nister now, for the first time, found out the condition that Colin was in, and insisted on his retiring and undressing immediately; and Mrs. Thornhill and the servant-girl got Ellen to her chamber, and the young lady wet her pillow out of gladness and joy; and Louis and Mr. Thornhill got Colin put to rights, whilst Sandy Glass acted as valet to the honest fellow Macbean, first bringing him a large pail-full of water for his feet, then running to the minister:

"Ho! sir, I winna ye gi' Maister Macbean a pair of stockings, and your auld breeks, an' the waistcoat ye had on when he skelpit down on his bair knees for a blessing, when the braw lads a' gaed away, an' an auld coat. Į ken ye've ane; Mr. Macbean dis na hae a red coat now; na, na, he's nae the sider roi; an he'll, nae doubt,

be glad to put on a coat o' the holy claith."

"Yes, yes, Sandy; take my excuse to the sergeant for not welcoming him, and go an' take them to him."

"Here, Mr. Macbean, here's clais for ye; a pair o' gude stockings specket a' owr like a paitrycke's egg; an' a breeks, the vera ains the minister had on when ye gat his blessing; aye! and: here's a waistcoat, and here's a coat; an' ye can say, ye were ainse drest in holy clais."

The scene this morning, at the humble manse, was truly pathetic; but by nine o'clock breakfast was got ready, and the sergeant and Glass were the only persons that knew what an appetite was.

On the second day after Colin arrived, he wrote to Edinburgh, and addressed his letter to Mr. Stuart; and, in ten days more, Monsieur Villejuive

returned from his tour, and came directly to the manse, to see Colin, and congratulate Ellen on the safe arrival of her brother.

The fiscal, baillie Ilan Dou, and the minister, with Colin, had held several consultations about redeeming the mortgage which Mon. Villejuive now held; but as St. Clyde could raise only a moiety of the sum, Mon. Villejuive very politely offered to remain as he was till the rent should accumulate, to enable the heir to disburse the claim his uncle had on it. St. Clyde, who was under a very solemn engagement to visit the father of his late friend, Colonel Dunmorven, who had fallen by his side, prepared to fulfil, in a few weeks, this last sad duty.

The account now current of the attack on St. Clyde and the sergeant, caused a very considerable sensation to be excited among the people, who

prayed all maledictions on the men who could attempt the life of St. Clyde and Serjeant Macbean, and the story lost nothing by travelling. The man, on the other side of the channel, detailed the fight in all the terrors and wonders of battle.

The sergeant said little about it, but only lamented he had not had his claymore, or his dirk, as the fellows would have felt the keenness of hard steel; and acknowledged that Macbean's heart, and the strength of his arm in battle, were not yet diminished.

It was not many days after the arrival of St. Clyde, when Levingstone, who had now returned from London, came to Bute, to welcome home his old acquaintance and friend; and their meeting was that of those who had in early life participated in virtuous pleasures and useful acquisitions; for Levingstone, ever and anon haunted by

the lang legs o' the chield hardly touch the ground," came from the lips of Macbean, as he stretched out his neck and gazed at Glass running towards them.

"You feel better, Colin;" said Louis. "I do, I do, but you have not said what Norah died of. Tell me, tell me, when did she die?"-"An hour before your mother."-" And what was the matter with her, did she die through. grief?

"Ohon! I'm a peur man; this is. ware then the worst battle we e'er fought; dinna, dinna, dinna baith make yoursells like weans; ye're baith begruttin eneugh already," said the sergeant.

"And Norah's dead! and she died of grief! O, cruel fates! O God! why am I alive till this hour!" uttered Colin in the most bitter anguish.

"Aha! Sauney, my man," said Mac