"Naebody's vexed me; it's just to see you here your lane," said Agnes through her tears. Agnes, left alone thus, and very well content to have discharged her errand so far, sat down on the wooden stool by the empty armchair, and relieved herself by concluding her interrupted fit of crying. A considerable time elapsed before she again heard these steps approaching, and now they were not alone. "Gang in, my man, ye 'll be wearied after your travel," said Kirstin Beatoun, thrusting "Is 't very desolate to look at?" said Kirs- her son in before her through the open door. tin, glancing round with a faint grieved" Ye've been a lang time gane, Patie, and curiosity. I could put up the shutter, but I think naebody cares to look in and spy upon a puir lone woman now." 66 "It's no for that; and I'm no vexed," said Agnes, breathlessly, for a familiar foot. step seemed to her excited fancy to be drawing near steadily, and with a purpose, to the widow's door. "I'm no vexed; I'm just as thankful and glad as onybody could be tere 's ane come to the town this night with news to make us a' out of our wits with joy.' 66 Poor bairn!" said Kirstin. "But I mind when I was as glad mysel at any great news from the wars that was for the men pressed out of the Elie, to think there might be a chance of peace, and of them coming hame; but I've turned awfu' cauld-hearted this year past, Nancy. I think I canna be glad of onything now. "But ye 'll be glad of this," said Agnes. "Oh, if I durst tell without any mair words! but I'm feared for the joy.' Kirstin grasped the slender wrist of her visitor, and drew her to the centre of the room, into the full lamp-light. Agnes Raeburn's eyes looking out of tears, her face covered with wavering rosy flushes, her mouth all full of smiles, yet ready to melt into the lines of weeping, brought a strange disturbance to the dead calm of Kirstin's face. "I can be glad of naething but the dead coming back out of their graves out of the sea or of my ain call to depart," she said, in a hurried tone of excitement. "Wha's that on my door-stane? Wha 's that hovering about my house at this hour of the night? Pity me, pity me, my judgment 's gane at the last! I'm no asking if it's a man or a spirit it's my son's fit, and my son's een. I've had my wits lang enough, and my heart 's broken. Let me gang, I say for his face is out there someplace out there in the dark -and wha 's living to heed me if I am mad the morn 's morn?" nae doubt ye 'er sair worn-out, and glad to come ashore; and I wouldna say but ye thought whiles, like me, that ye were never to see your ould mother again; but we'll say naething about the past; it's an awfu' time. You're hame first, Patie; and when did ye say he was to come himsel? Bairns, I dinna want to make ye proud, but we 'll hae the haill toun out the morn, to see the sloop come up to Elie harbor, and him come hame." Poor desolate heart! Joy had done what grief could not do; and for the moment, with these wild smiles quivering on her face, and her restless hands wandering about her son as she seated him in a chair, Kirstin Beatoun was crazed. laugh "Mother, mother," said Patie sadly, "he 's hame in another place; he 'll never plant a foot on Elie shore again. Mother, I'm my lane; ye 'll have to be content with me." "Content?" repeated Kirstin, with a low "content?ay, my bonnie man, far mair than content. But I wouldna say but Nancy Raeburn would be wanting a share of ye for a handsel; and I'll no deny her so far as I have ony say, for she 's a fine lassie; but you 've never tellt me yet when he 's coming hame himsel." Agnes and Paite exchanged sorrowful, bewildered glances; they did not know how to deal with this. 66 Mother, there were nane saved but me," said Patie, hurriedly. "My father gaed down in the sloop, yesterday was a year. It 's best for ye to ken; he never can come hame, for he 's been dead and gane this twelve-month. Do ye understand me, mother? There 's little to be joyful for after a'; them that were best worth perished, and there 's naebody saved but me. Patie's eyes fill, for he too had felt very deeply his father's death. Kirstin stood by him a moment in silence; then she sat down in her former seat, and, folding her arms upon the table, laid down | sister-in-law's little sitting-room, leaving her head upon them. They could only hear Patie at the door. - they could not see the prolonged and unresisted weeping which came upon her; but when she rose, her face was calm, full of gravity, yet full of sober light. "God be thanked that has brought you hame again, Patie, my son, and that has preserved me to see this day," said Kirstin, solemnly. "He has sent sorrow, and he has sent joy. He has baith given and taken away but them that's gane is safe in His ain kingdom, Patie, and He has made the heart of the widow this night to sing for joy." After this there was room for nothing but rejoicing-the danger was past. Mrs. Plenderleath, too, was preparing for rest, and sat before the fire, the great family Bible still lying open upon the table, herself placed with some state in her arm-chair, her hands crossed in her lap, her foot upon a footstool; solitary, too, as Kirstin Beatoun had been an hour ago; but with a look of use and wont in her solitude, and many little comforts adapted to it lying about her, which, in some degree, took away its impression of painfulness. "There's word of them," said Ailie, rising stiffly from her seat, and glancing round with the unsteady, excited eyes which had never lost their look of wild eagerness since the day of the wreck. And Ailie grasped tightly with her trembling hands the edge of the table and the edge of the mantel-shelf, unwilling to reveal the strong anxiety and agitation which shook her like a sudden wind. "But I've little to set before my stranger," said Kirstin, looking with a half smile at her neglected cup of tea. "You'll no be heeding muckle about the like of that, Patie; and I'm no that weel provided for a family again. It's late at night noo: if you 'll rin east to my guiddaughter, Nancy my woman, she 'll be my merchant for ae night; and ye 'll hae to gang yoursel, Patie, and see John." "I'll rin east and see that Euphie puts my son half a dozen haddies to the fire," said Agnes; "and ye 'll come yoursel, Patie and you. I ran a' the way from the braes the night to let you ken the guid news, and you 're no to contradict me." 66 Na, I mustna do that, at no hand," said Kirstin, with a smile; "but there's your Auntie Ailie has had near as sair a heart as me. We'll have to gang there first, Patie, and then, Nancy my woman, I'll bring my son to see Euphie and John.' Agnes had not run so much or so lightly for many a day; and now she set off upon another race, full of the blithest and most unselfish exhilaration; and it was not until she had almost reached Euphie's door, that a dread remembrance of her gray beaver-hat, with its nodding feather, and the new camel's-hair shawl, and what her mother would think of her wearing them to-night, came in to disturb her happy mind. Ah, culprit Agnes! and all the great pieces of thinking left undone, though the decision does seem something more certain than when you left home so gravely to seek the little cove among the braes; but in spite of these sobering considerations, Agnes carries in such a beaming face to the fireside of her sister, that the very sight of it is preparation enough to John and Euphie for hearing all manner of joy. CHAPTER XV. "Ailie, I've come to tell you I've gotten a great deliverance," said Kirstin Beatoun, with solemn composure, as she entered her "There 's word of ane of them," said Kirstin. "Ailie, I'm a widow woman a' my days, and you have nae brother; but my son -I've gotten back my darlin' laddie - the comfort of his auld age and mine!" 1 And Ailie Rintoul, catching a glimpse, as Kirstin had done, of the young face looking in at the door, advanced to him with steps of slow, deliberate dignity, holding out both her hands. Other sign of emotion she would show none, but Patie never forgot the iron grasp in which she caught his hands. For Ailie's soul was shaken as by a great tempest; bitter disappointment, satisfac tion, thankfulness, joy, she scarcely could tell which was strongest; and her impulse was to lift up her voice and weep, as she welcomed the dead who was alive again. Some strange piece of pride, or fear of committing herself out of her usual gravity before "the laddie," prevented this indulgence, and, by a great effort, very stiffly and slowly Ailie went back to her chair. It was only when she had reached it again, that she could command her voice sufficiently to speak. "It's the Lord's ain wise way - it's His ain righteous pleasure. It's nae news to onybody that your man, Kirstin Beatoun, my brother that 's departed, was a man of God for mony a year; and nae doubt he was ready for his call, and it came just at the best time; whereas it has aye lain heavy at my heart that the laddie was but a laddie after a', and heedless, and had thought but little upon his latter end. Patie, the Lord's sent ye hame to gie ye anither season to make ready. See that ye dinna tempt him, and gang to the sea unregenerated again." In a very short time after, the mother and son left Ailie; for not even the excitement of high sea, and our boat was nothing to brag of this great event could make such a break in her habits as to tempt her out with them to the family meeting in her nephew's house. When they left her, Ailie Rintoul sat for a long time silent by the fire, now and then wiping away secret tears. Then, without missing one habitual action, she went quietly to her rest. Heart and mind might be disturbed and shaken to their foundations, but nothing disturbed the strong iron lines of custom and outward habitude - -the daily regulations of her life. "Ye may think what kind of a time it was to me," said Patie Rintoul, and every eye around him was wet with tears "the sloop drifting away helpless into the black night, and me clinging with baith my hands to a bit of slippery rock, and the water dashing over me every wave. The next gleam of moonlight I saw her again. I saw she was settling down deeper and deeper into the sea, and the auld man at the helm looking out for me, thinking I was gone. I gied a great cry, as loud as I could yell, to let him ken I was living, and just wi' that the sloop gied a prance forward like a horse, and then wavered a moment, and then gaed down, and I mind anither dreadful cry- whether it was mysel that made it, or anither drowning man like me, I canna tell- and then the rock slipped out of my hands, and I kent naething mair till I came to mysel aboard the Dutch brig, where there wasna a man kent mair language than just to sell an anker of brandy or a chest of tea. I canna tell how lang I had lain there before I kent where I was, but when I came to my reason again my head was shaved, and the cut on We twa! Agnes is in her corner again, my brow near healed - ye can scarce see the deep in the shadow of the mantel-shelf, and mark o't now, mother—but ane of the men no one sees the blush which comes up warmly that had some skill in fevers let me ken after, on her half-hidden cheek. No one observes when I had come to some understanding of her at all, fortunately for Euphie has been their speech, that it was striking against the sitting with the breath half suspended on her rock, as I slipped off my grip, that touched red lip, and the tear glistening on her eyelash my brain and gave me my illness. I've nae- -John covers his face, and leans upon the thing to say against the Dutchmen. They table Kirstin Beatoun, with her hand perwere very kind to me in their way, and would petually lifted to wipe away the quiet tears aye give me a word in the bygaun, or a joke from her cheek, sees nothing but the face of to keep up my spirit. Nae doubt it was in her son—and even Mrs. Raeburn, forgetful Dutch, and I didna ken a syllable, but there of her offence at Patie for the loss of the sloop, was the kindly meaning a' the same. Weel, gives him her full, undivided attention, and I found out by and by that the brig was a enters with all her heart into his mother's smuggler running voyages out of Rotterdam, thanksgiving. So Agnes in her corner has and thereaway, to mair ports than ane on the time to soothe the fluttering heart which will east coast. They were short of hands, and not be still and sober, and, in the pauses of feared for me forby, thinking I might lay in- her breathless listening, chides it like an unformation; so, whenever we came near a har-ruly child. Here is but a scene of home-like bor, whether it was Dutch or English, I had joy, of tearful thanksgiving - the danger and a man mount guard on me like a sentry, and toil and pain and separation lie all in the behoved to be content to bide with them, for past. Ghosts and spectres are dead and gone; a' it was sair against my will. We had gane on this way as far as the month of August, when ae day, down by the mouth of the Channel, a cutter got wit of us, and got up her canvass to chase. It was a brisk wind and a life, young and warm and sweet, is in the very air: hearts, that would do naught but dream to-day, when there was serious work in hand, now, content with all this unexpected gladness, learn to be sober-for one little hour; but Agnes only hears a mutter of defiance as she repeats again and again the unheeded command. Secretly, by Euphie's connivance, the Sabbath shawl and Sabbath hat have been conveyed home, while the house-mother was not there to see; but they lie heavy still on the conscience of Agnes; and heavy too lies poor Colin Hunter, whom now no elaborate piece of thought will avail, for, looking up, she finds Patie Rintoul's eye dwelling on her-dwelling on her with a smile; and the blush deepens into burning crimson as Agnes remembers the secret she told to Patie, and to the grave rocks and curious brambles, by the little fairy cove among the Elie braes. CHAPTER XVI. I'll tak my plaid and out I'll steal, They could put up the shutter on the window, "And this is to be the end o 't a'-a' the Patie went away another voyage in the pains I've ta'en wi' ye and a' the care? Eh," Justitia" of Dundee; Patie came home Nancy Raeburn! weel may your faither say mate, with a heavier purse and a face more I've spoilt ye baith wi' owre muckle concern bronzed than ever; and Mrs. Raeburn had for ye. To think you should set your face to long ago forgotten her little skirmish with this, and Euphie there, that might ken better, Euphie, and her angry injunction to Agnes, uphauding ye in a' your folly! Wha's the Rintouls, I would like to ken, that I should ware a' my bairns upon them?-A fisher's sons, bred up to the sea, with neither siller nor guid connections. I'm sick of hearing the very name!" "I think ye might have keeped that till I wasna here, mother," said Euphie indignantly. "I'm no denying the Rintouls were fishers; but I would like to ken wha would even a fisher to a tailor, or the like of thae landward trades; and I ken ane of the name that's as guid a man as ye 'll find in a' Fife; and Patie's a fine lad, if he's no sae rich as Colin Hunter, and no so discreet as our John. For my part, I wonder onybody has the heart to discourage the puir laddie, after a' he 's come through. never to cross Euphie's door when ane of the Rintouls was there." It was a very useless caution this, so long as the Elie itself remained so little and so quiet, and the braes were so pleasant for the summer walks from which Agnes could not be quite debarred. By and by, too, father and mother began to be a little piqued that no one else did honor to the good looks of Agnes; and so, gradually, bit by bit, there came about a change. When another year was out, Samuel Raeburn solemnly assisted at the induction of Captain Plenderleath -now returned a competent and comfortable man, to spend his evening time at home, a magnate in his native town-as one of the redoubtable municipality of the Elie; and as the new bailie's nephew disinterestedly offered to the old bailie his escort home, Samuel Raeburn saith with much solemnity "He came through naething at our hand," said Mrs. Raeburn;" and weel I wot he has little cause to look for comfort from us, and "Patie Rintoul! I hae twa daughters, as him airt and pairt in the loss o' the sloop wi'ye ken, and a matter of eight hundred pounds a' our gear. Just you dry your cheeks, and to divide between them when I dee- onygang back to your wark, Nancy; and let me way, I had that muckle afore your faither and see nae mair red een in my house; for if you lost the sloop. Now the wife tells meyou'll no take Colin Hunter, ye maun just and I have an ee in my ain head worth twa make up your mind to be your faither's daugh- of the wife's, that you're looking after our ter a' your days, for Samuel Raeburn will Nannie. Be it sae. I conclude that's setnever give his consent to marry ye to Patie tled, and that's the premises. Now I maun Rintoul." say it was real unhandsome usage on your pairt and your faither's to encourage John Rintoul, Euphie's man, to stay at hame for the sake of her havers, and then to let the sloop gang down that hadna had time in our aught to do mair than half pay her ain price ; And it turned out, in the most conclusive sae I consider · canna ye gang straight, manner possible, that Agnes certainly did not man! that I 've paid ye down every penny want Colin Hunter; and Colin Hunter, stung of Nannie's tocher, and that ye 're to look for by kindred pride and disappointment, took naething mair frae me; and that being alimmediate steps to revenge himself, but hap-lowed and concluded on, ye can settle a' thẻ VOL. I. 27 "I'm no asking his consent - I'm no wanting Patie Rintoul," cried poor Agnes, in a passion of injured pride and maidenliness. "I'm wanting naebody, mother, if folk would only let me alane." OCCCLXIX. LIVING AGE. -- rest with the wife, and let the haill afhir be nae mair bother to me." Having said this loftily, Samuel Raeburn went home with placid dignity, and left his house-door open behind him for the unhesitating entrance of Patie Rintoul. Euphie was angry; Captain Plenderleath indignant; Ailie Rintoul lofty and proud; but the others, most deeply concerned, received very gladly the tocherless bride, to whom her mother did not refuse a magnificent "providing," richer in its snowy, glistening stores, its damask table-cloths and mighty sheets, than ever Euphie's had been; for by this time Mrs. Raeburn had remembered her old friendship for Kirstin Beatoun, and forgotten that she was sick of the very name of Rintoul. And a humble monumental stone, marking a memory, but no grave, was seen soon among the other grave-stones by the eyes which once looked up reverently to the stately patriarch fisher, the first John Rintoul. Within sight of the place where he used to stand in his antique blue coat and thick white muslin cravat, lifting his lofty head, grizzled with late snows, over the plate where the entering people laid their offerings, stands now a framework of stone, somewhat rudely cut, enclosing From "The Transactions of the Entomological Society." MR. SPENCE exhibited specimens of the fly called "Tsétsé," which he found were identical with the Glossina mossitans of Westwood. He also communicated some observations thereon, founded on a note forwarded to Dr. Quain, by W. Oswell, Esq., who has travelled extensively in Africa, and on one occasion lost forty-nine out of fifty-seven oxen, of which his teams consisted, by the attacks of this fly, the animals dying in a period of from three to twelve weeks after being bitten. It appears that three or four flies are sufficient to kill a full-grown ox; and the following appearances were observable in numerous examples which were examined. On raising the skin, a glairy condition of the muscles and flesh, the latter much wasted; stomach and intestines healthy; heart, lungs, and liver, sometimes all, and invariably one or the other, discased; the heart, in particular, being no longer a firm muscle, but collapsing readily on compression, and having the appearance of flesh that had been steeped in water; the blood greatly diminished in quantity and altered in quality-not more than twenty pints could be obtained from the largest ox, and this thick and albuminous; the hands when plunged into it came out free from stain. The poison seems to grow in the blood, and through it to attack the vital organs. All domesticated animals, except goats, calves, and sucking animals, die from the bite of this insect; man and all wild animals are bitten with impunity. This fly is confined to particular districts, chiefly between the 15th and 18th degrees of south latitude and the 24th and 28th degrees of east longitude, and is never known to shift. a bit of dark sea-worn wood, carved with the name of Elder John the sun shines on it, brightly tracing out the uncouth characters, with a tender, renovating hand; and your heart blesses the gracious sunshine as it takes this gentle office, cherishing the name of God's undistinguished servant as tenderly as if it were inscribed upon a martyr's grave. No martyr, though his Master hose for him another than the peaceful way of going home which an aged man himself might choose. In the deep heart of his widow's unspoken love, a canonized saint-to the profound regard of his only sister, a prophet high and honored to the universal knowledge, a godly man; and the earth, which has no grave for him, and the sunshine which plays upon the great mantle with which the sea encloses his remains, are tender of his name all that is left of him on the kindly soil of his own land. Gowans and tender grass slowly encroaching on its base, verdant mosses softly stealing along its thick stone edge the sea within sight, whereon he lived and died, and the humble roof where he had his home; and many a kindly and friendly eye pauses, with reverent comment, to read the "Lost at Sea" which puts its solemn conclusion to the life of John Rintoul. The inhabitants herd their cattle at a safe distance from its haunts; and if in changing their cattle-post they should be obliged to pass through the country in which it exists, they choose a moonlight winter's night, as during the cold weather it does not bite. It seems to differ in several particulars from the account given by Bruce of the fly called "Zimb," which was only found on plains of "black, fat earth," whereas this was an inhabitant of jungles and country not open. Mr. Oswell, who was present as a visitor, gave a more detailed account of his experience with this African pest. WILLIAM HOBSON PALMER was indicted for the manslaughter of Charlotte Cardwell. Palmer is a "herb doctor ;" he administered "Dr. Coffin's medicines" to the deceased. After her death a large quantity of husks of lobelia were found in her stomach; lobelia is largely employed in Coffin's medicines; Dr. Letheby pronounced the quantity taken by the woman as sufficient to cause death. But Mrs. Cardwell had suffered from asthma, and after death the lungs were found much inflamed; medical witnesses admitted that lobelia may be employed in asthmatic cases; it is a modern medicine; persons who have taken it for a length of time can swallow large doses with impunity. Mr. Justice Maule pronounced the evidence insufficient to warrant a conviction; and a verdict of "Not guilty" was returned. The judge then remarked, that lobelia was a dangerous medicine, and persons should be very cautious how they administer it. Spectator. |
