"We all hae our blessings, Colonel; but in some way or ither the Lord taks them oot o' us. He taks them a' oot o' me in rhuematics. Bid the minister hame wi' ye, sir, for a bite and a sup and a warld-like company. He's been stepping atween the dead and the kirk lang enough for ae Sawbath day's preaching." In a few moments they reached the kirk, and all peered curiously into the solemn yard around it. A deeper darkness had settled there, for the old yew trees cast black shadows over the lonely spot. But the white flags which made a path around the kirk were all the more distinct, and on them the minister was slowly walking, now visible, now lost to sighta gloomy, spectral figure, whose slow, deliberate movements had a singular fascination. They watched him for a few moments, and then the Colonel passed onward without a word. A great depression seemed to fall upon each, and the rest of their walk was taken hastily, as if escaping from something unhappy. Old Grizel's thin, querulous voice, the preacher's solemn vigil, the sad portents of the sighing yew trees and the ghost-like gravestones-even the hard, motionless, granite idea of the old kirk assailed their hearts through their imaginations, and for the moment they could not escape those rudimental terrors of darkness and death which we bring into the world with us and only conquer in moments of triumphant faith and hope. "How uncanny the minister was," said Bertha to her sister, as they removed their cloaks and furs; "he looked so tall in the gloom and his down-bent face so white and phantom-like." "And Bertha, I fancied there were people-ghosts I mean behind us, after we left the kirk-yard. I expected to feel a hand, or hear a whisper, every step I took. Father stayed out too long; and the influence of the Stone Pillar was on me. Whether we were interested or not, perhaps those behind us were." "I do not believe they either know, or care, anything about an old granite bowlder, with some Latin and Gaelic words on it. The next life can be little better than this if such things interest the dead. Of course, I would not say so to father, but—" "May not such things be symbols of family honor and faith? and of family ties, that are not broken by death?" "The dead are so far off." "How can we tell? They go out from us, but perhaps only to the next room of life." Peo "The Bible says nothing about a next room. ple go either to heaven or hell when they die. I am afraid a great many go to hell. Did you see that letter on the table beside father's place? I have an idea that it is from our cousin Blair. I suppose he is coming here soon." "Father told me so. He is our nearest kin." "And wants to be nearer. He is only thirty years old, and mother has read about him at the games. They say he is the prettiest man in Perthshire': that is, he has the most inches, and can run the farthest, and leap the highest, and shoot the closest, and do all sorts of wonderful things beside. Will he be handsome, also, do you think?” "I dare say he will have cheeks like carnation, and black eyes, and black hair, and a loud voice, and red hands. And he will make puns, and consider them 'wit.'" "And he will sing, 'Will you go to Inverness ?' and 'Cam' ye by Athole?'" "And his talk will be of bullocks." 66 Perhaps it is not right, Scotia, to say such things. He may be thinking nicely of us." It was a conversation of the lips; neither girl thought much of the words she uttered. Scotia stood erect, watching her sister make still smoother the smooth bandeaux which gave her round, baby face such an innocent look. But she was really thinking of that dark figure in the kirk-yard, and her soul was, in a dim, unacknowledged way, keeping with his soul the lonely session with the darkness and the dead. "Let us go downstairs, Scotia. I dare say father is waiting for us." Bertha was now satisfied with her appearance. If the minister came in late, as he had done once or twice, there was not a hair of her head out of its place, and she glanced at Scotia's flowing locks, and wondered how they could be at once so untidy and so becoming. "Let us go downstairs, father will be waiting for us. It is time for the Exercise;" and her tone was almost reproving. For a moment, Scotia felt as if she had been the cause of the delay. The servants, old and young, male and female, had already gathered in the parlor ; and the Colonel, at his daughters' entrance, rose with The Book in his hand. He was not a scholar, but Scotia thought no one could read like him. He gave out the portion in its course-"The Word of the Lord by Joel the son of Pethuel; the First Chapter." The leaves rustled in the hands of the hinds and the maids; there was a short deep stillness, and then softly and solemnly, the wondrous picture grew, verse by verse :-the fig tree stripped of its bark, standing white against the arid landscape-the bride wailing for her husband-the night-watch of the supplicating priests-the empty garners the perishing herds. And how forcible were these things to the men and women who knew the hopes and fears of agricultural and pastoral life! Ere the chapter was ended, the minister came quietly among them; and it was his voice that lifted the supplicating prayer. Scotia thought it had tones in it she had never heard before, and she wondered if they had been caught in that solemn communion from which he had just come. Bertha heard them not, she was congratulating herself upon her prudence. She felt that she could do herself perfect justice; her hair was in beautiful order; her collar fresh; on her feet were the red sandals so coquettishly becoming; on her hands the rings which accentuated their whiteness, and drew attention to their small size. Yes, people do think of such vanities, even in the presence of God. For an ear for spiritual discourse is quite as distinct a thing as an ear for music; and Bertha Rodney had no comprehension of that prayer which is the motion of an hidden.fire. But she knew that a beautiful woman kneeling is doubly beautiful; and that the act of worship is, in itself, one of the most poetic acts of humanity. II. WORDS HALF SPOKEN. "Why are we whose strength is but for a day, so full of schemes? Let the mind which is now glad hate to carry its care beyond the present, and temper the bitters of life with easy smiles."-Horace. "To-night Love claims his full control And with desire and with regret -Rosetti. RODNEY HOUSE was at this date a beautiful residence, half castellated, and half-monastic in style; a house with a home-like air; long, rambling, old, and full of all pleasant conditions. It was surrounded by a wide garden space, laid out in the Dutch fashion. In summer and autumn this garden was a very paradise of sweet scents; flowers, and fruits, and herbs mingling their separate perfumes in one general spicy fragrance. Around, the land was hilly and woody, broken by miniature copses, full of the tones of water, and the inland sounds of trees and birds; of the cuckoo's sweet dissyllable, and the nightingale's solemn music; and from the meadows and the painful furrows, the lark's all-invincible song of hope. The sea was not far away, and its blessed breezes mingled with the landward winds, and charged them |