TOM LAWES was dead. "He had " -80 ran the announcement which accompanied the invitation to his funeral — “exchanged this troublesome world for a better." And for nearly a week past this interesting fact sustained the conversation in every ale-house parlor, and interfered with the business of the markets, besides strangely affecting the conscience of certain good Christians. There never was a nobler or more expressive language than the tongue of the dear old ladies who were our grand- There was a fascination in the submothers and great-grandmothers in ject, because Tom had been such an these southern and western counties of evident living man for so long a timeScotland. Let us try to keep it equally and now, those who knew him best felt free from Anglicisms which come by that he had gone to limbo, and was rail, Irishisms which arrive by the shrouded to them in an impenetrable short sea-route, from the innuendo of mystery which was positively awful. the music-hall comic song, and the And this sensation was reasonable refinements of the boarding-school – enough, seeing that he died at home, in fact, from all additions, substrac-in that village where so many members tions, multiplications, and divisions, by of his family had acted out their parts whomsoever introduced or advocated. | for the space of two full centuries. There is an idea abroad that in order to He-the last of them to go hence — write Scottish dialect, it is enough to leave out all final g's and to write dae for do- which last, I beg leave to say, is the hall-mark of the bungler! Now the honest Doric is a sonsy quean, clean, snod, and well put on. Her acquaintance is not to be picked up on the streets, or at any closemouth. The day has been when Peg was a lady, and so she shall be again, and her standard of manners and speech shall be at least as high as that of her sister of the South. possessed to the uttermost those characteristics for which his family was remarkable. Very frequently the resemblance in person and life extended to the manner of their death, and all lay indicated so plainly upon the surface, that it almost seemed as though in them humanity abandoned those arts and hereditary devices which began with the sewing of fig-leaves. They played no part in politics beyond helping in the distribution and consumption of liquor consequent upon an thropists, but they took the best of this world's wealth that came within their reach to their own enjoyment; and the things of literature, art, or science were as far from them as the dim sayings of Holy Writ itself. The result will not show in the re-election. They never posed as philanports of the Board of Trade; neither will it make Glasgow flourish yet more abundantly, or the ships crowd thicker about the Tail of the Bank. But it will give broad Scotland a right to speak once more of a Scottish language, and not merely of a Dundee, a Gallowa', แ or a Doon-the-watter" accent. And it will give her again a literature frankly national, written in her ancient language, according to the finest and most uncorrupted models. S. R. CROCKETT. With irregular features, coarsening as they aged, sturdy, well-knit figures, heavy jaws, and low foreheads, the young ones followed the old ones into the seventies, and sometimes into the eighties, in spite of hard drinking and exposure to all the severities of the English climate. Now and again one in his generation met his death as Tom had just done, who- till after he was seventy drove the fastest horse in the county, and that very often at night and without lamps, till some accident befell, and the hard-going life was suddenly snuffed out. It happened so with Tom. He was coming home late at night, having stayed his time at the Green Mau, with other friends, and then, as usual, he made up for it on the road. He said he knew he could do it, although the roads were bad and there was a steaming fog. He had often done it before, when he had business appointments at home, and feared he would be late. To not a few Tom Lawes, if not exactly a benefactor, was at any rate the best master and the best friend they had known; and though it was true that he had no wife or child to add, by their mourning, to the pathos of his end, still his family was a large one; and beyond it the circle of the business connection which he inherited from his father stretched almost over the whole kingdom. At all horse fairs and sales, and wherever horses for the plough or van changed hands, there Tom Lawes' broad figure and close-shaven face were a familiar sight. Even He was not a loquacious man. liquor would never melt a secret out of These simple things are the hazards him which Tom desired to keep. But of life, for a man may do a great deal he was punctual in business matters. if the road is clear; but on this par- His word was as good as his bond, and ticular evening it chanced that another he was always ready to pay his price. man had been delayed, possibly by the He was a good judge of animals in his same cause as Tom. He, too, was own line of business, and knew the making up on the road; and these men pedigrees and secret histories of most met in the fog, each driving his hard-horses that were worth considering at est, and Tom was thrown out on his all. This gave him great prestige head. The other was a younger man, among younger members of the profesand escaped with a good shaking; but sion, just as his regular and attentive Tom was drawn out from where he lay business habits commanded the respect among the smashed spokes of the other of men of his own standing. He was man's wheel, and carried home to his no scholar, but he could write a cheque, own house on a gate. He was a heavy and put a higher figure to it than most man to fall, and his head, though hard people, if he chose. Report credited enough, was too old to bear such a bat-him with twice as much of the needful tering. A few days passed, during as any of his forefathers possessed; which the strong frame heaved and but perhaps he could afford to be more struggled for life, and the poor, bewil-free with his money only because he dered mind strove to piece together had neither wife nor children, He recent events and to clear up the hard was not a charitable man; neither hosproblem what strange thing had hap-pitals nor schools ever saw his money; pened to itself and the world at large. Then, like a child tired out with too long a day, the breath came and went easily, till at last he slept - Tom Lawes was dead. Then a wail rose up from the hearts of many who had taken his strong life as a matter of course -as one of those things like the "strength of the hills," or "the depths of the sea," which were ordered as we find them long before we were born, and which form so far a necessary part of this world's scheme that we could not fancy the world without them. but if an old stable-helper or drover out of employment came to Tom Lawes, he generally found him something to do, and kept him out of the workhouse. Therefore his praises were sung in many a public house, and it is an open question whether a man's good name is not more likely to be challenged in a public house than a church. As he had no land to speak of, Tom took no offence at poaching-and yet he had his morality, and he was not the less respected because it was known that there was a limit to his for. "Poor Tom!" said one. "Gone at last." "Terr'ble sudden." "There's a-many will miss him.” "Allus tuk things quiet." 66 66 Say as his nephies take it mortal bearance. No servant of his might all three men felt disturbed in their thieve. As to drinking they might mind with a sense of disaster. be "drunk as lords" when he did not want them, which was sometimes the case on Sunday; but when Monday morning came, either they were fit for work or they received no pay. With the parson and church-going Tom held as little as he did with schools and hos-hard.' pitals. There were times when a parson was necessary, and it was handy for people to be able to sign their names. When the parish doctor could not help a poor man, the hospital was the best place for him; besides, doctors must learn their business somewhere; doctoring and the mysteries of physic were not to be picked up in the hedgerows. Tom was proud of being a'ith him to-day." Churchman, and though he never went to church except to attend weddings or funerals, he would have scorned to go to chapel upon any pretext whatever. But now they were going to take Tom Lawes to church for the last time. He was to be taken to the family vault, where his father and mother lay, and where his brothers would come to join him not long hence. They take on so." "Quiet livin' fellows, too." "They ain't at all fast." "They be church-goers - reglar." "That's along of their mother." "She don't use no force, neither.” Pretty nigh time for poor Tom by that clock." "Hope as they own't be late along "Him wot were allus so punctual." "Say! A sight o' people to see the last o' him." "Bless ye! That man had a sight o' friends." "T warn't for much as he said, neither." "If you axed him, Tom 'ud liefer say as he 'din't know.' And all the time, he knowed!" "That were the w'y o' he." "An' yit a straighter man never walked." "Different to Michael Symmonds." "But did you never notice as how they niver drank out o' the same glass?" "For all they was friends these many years, yo niver see that done." "Don't blame Tom neither! Couldn't abide that ere Michael Symmonds." It was a still autumn day, serene and calm, and warm as summer. The pungent scent of dead leaves filled the air; a soft sun shone tenderly over the pale haze of the distant plain, and touched with loving light the quaint outline of the russet-tinted oaks. From the great grey tower of Kentish rag, the deep bell swung out its loud-toned wail. The three roads which ran up the steep hill to the church were dotted by knots of people, who were all converging towards one spot. Now and again a farmer or dealer from a distance whisked past in his little gig, flicking "He ain't no friend o' mine niver his pony to urge him into the long wore an' niver will be that's one hill. That much accomplished, some thing." threw down their reins and jumped out without pulling up. These were the younger men, and three of them reaching the last pitch about the same time, greeted one another with a nod, and leaving the animals to mount the hill alone, drew towards each other and talked in low voices. From their "No less than 'twere for the busishort, jerky sentences it was clear that ness." "Married the widdy o' the Bird in Hand." "Aye! And niver no fear o' their lettin' the stuff git bad atween 'em." "Tom never had that weakness. He drank his glass, but no wimmen never got the better o' he." "He were a deal too straight for 'em. | self on his intimacy, and above all his They warn't agoin' for to kitch he to knowledge of the race. The unfamarry they." miliar scent of stephanotis came up to "Haply he took up with married him where he sat and reminded him wimmen?" not disagreeably of greenhouses in "Wot! Them as had husbands winter time. He could see white a-ready? That he din't!" flowers laid in masses on the grass and on an old tomb. "But that's the best w'y to be sure. Square it along 'ith the husbands fust.” "Lord bless ye, wot luck that man had!" "Aye, that wouldn't never do for sich as you and me to try it on the same as he did." "Ah- but Tom -'e know'd ! " The rapid clanging of the great bell announced to the assembled crowd that the funeral drew near. Conversation ceased, and punctual to the stroke of three, four black horses drew the hearse which contained the last of Tom Lawes to the lych-gate. Human beings and their labors interested the robin. All that morning men had been at work bending over picks and spades — and he had perched on clods they had turned out. Some scraps they laid aside. They said the parson would "call out" if he saw them. How they toiled! And what for? He shook himself and winked his eye. He would stir them up with another tune, and forthwith he flung out his cheeriest song, till suddenly he was silenced, startled by the deep human voice reading with measured resonance, and the earnestness of con All hats were doffed as the bearers drew out the massive coffin. One by viction : one the mourning coaches containing "I know that my Redeemer livrelatives and friends followed in suc-eth cession, while a body of friends walked "E knowe, do 'e?" soliloquized before the coffin- and far off, still far Jonas Lopes; "'e s'y as 'e knowe." off, was the white flutter of surplice, and the glint of sunlight on the gilt edges of a book. A solemn hush held the crowd almost breathless; but one old mau a stablehelper-pressed on up the hill in spite of evident fatigue. "Jonnas," he murmured, addressing himself, "yo mun be to toime. They was hisn words." Up above in the lych-gate, a robin was busy looking for spiders. They are fat and prosperous in the autumn, and their eggs, which are so plentiful then, clear the voice. The many flies which have nourished them all through the summer are also fat and sleepy in the autumn, and walk easily into the large webs so daringly displayed. The robin flung out a gay song in the intervals when his sharp beak was not employed picking the plump assassins from their thievish lurking-places, where they sat in darkness planning murder. The crowd excited rather than disturbed the robin. He liked to watch human beings, and prided him The crowd passed from the mellow sunshine through the dark portals. The last glimpse of the white flowers which lay on the heavy burden passed out of sight. The robin knew the church inside and out. Just to-day the sun was pleasant. It was the perversity of that human nature which it was his business to study that made them crowd inside. Outside in the road the ponies grazed, and were minded by boys on whom the police kept their eyes. People came to church that day who never came at other times. Amongst these was Jonas Lopes. Jonas was arrayed in very thin old black clothes. They were his very best, and for the most part, were presented to him at odd times by the deceased. He only douned these precious garments on very particular occasions, and when he was sure of being sober, or, as he expressed it, "dry." As he edged his way into church, a thousand thoughts whirled through his mind, and fairly bewildered his brain. The great west door was wide open to allow the people to throng into the church; rich and poor were there mingled together, but all trod softly, and were too bent upon a common object to notice a humble four-footed intruder. He had walked about fourteen miles to | to hear in his time, and had forgotten be present at this funeral, and to en- long ago. He was anxious-oh, how sure being sober had tasted nothing terribly anxious he was! — to show all since breakfast, fearing that food dutiful respect to the man whom he would produce thirst, and that thirst had called "Master," but whom he would get the better of him. Jonas reckoned to be his only friend in life. never drank anything but beer. He was older than he used to be, he told himself, for he felt a curious faintness overcome him, but this, on reflection, he decided was proper and natural to being dry, and was not to be wondered at. All church-goers were dry, and he Suddenly a sharp howl made Jonas knew just how they looked when they start. He turned his head quickly and were on the road for church. recognized to his horror a lean liverHe had come so far to see the last of | and-white mongrel bitch as his own Tom Lawes, and see it he must. After not too honorably maintained - posit was over he would take measures to session. It was as though that side of correct his dryness, and he drew his hand across his mouth when he thought of the Bird in Hand. So he pressed on with the crowd, keeping his eyes fixed on the great oak coffin borne aloft, and the masses of snow-white flowers, and trying to associate these unfamiliar sights with old Tom Lawes. He strained his ears to listen to what the parson was saying, with a vague kind of hope that some of it might relate to Tom, and tell of his present condition. But the words sounded strange and difficult. They ran in a language that Tom never used, and referred to things that he never remarked upon. his life most remote from church-going was rising up against him, and the moment was one of exceeding bitterness. The muddy and disreputable-looking dog was looking and snuffing in all directions to find him, and Jonas trembled lest in spite of his best clothes he should not escape her unquestionable nose. It was a terrible visitation. The authorities would blame him for a disturbance, and perhaps they would both be turned out together, and what a scandal that would be and at Tom's funeral too. He turned his eyes away, and kept them fixed upon the parson. He would not see the dog. With all his might he strove to understand the words. Haply he might get some good out of them. "As one star differeth from another star." Some one in the congregation saw Jonas, and recognized the old stablehelper. Divining the devotion which had brought him so far, and perhaps touched with sympathy, this man beckoned Jonas, and made room for him in his seat. This unexpected condescension was very gratefully accepted, and "Poor Tom!" he thought wearily as he sank wearily on the bench Jonas as he remembered the coming winter. felt himself almost a church-goer. He" Aye! 'e's a long way off Oy reckon, sat on the edge of the seat, holding his and Oy shall miss him afore Christmas. hat very nervously before him, and Oy kean't but think o' the toime Oy straining his ears to hear the mingled sound of the bearers' measured tread and the deep cadence of Holy Writ. The solemnity of the moment impressed him inexpressibly. He felt in a dim sense that he was catching some perception of the breath of sanctity. And he racked his brains to remember any good words which he had chanced were a-thievin' o' they tarnups. Oy niver did it agin, Tom! Noa, nut after yo kitched o' me that unce." Another sharp howl from the puppy made him start and interrupted his reflections. "Cuss ye ye darnistable cuss! Can't ye be quiet? I ain't a-goin' to see ye, and the Lord send ye don't see me! Wotiver are ye at, a |