With short and springing footstep pass
The trembling bog and false morass;

Across the brook like roebuck bound,
And thread the brake like questing hound;
The crag is high, the scaur is deep,

Yet shrink not from the desperate leap;
Parched are thy burning lips and brow,
Yet by the fountain pause not now;
Herald of battle, fate, and fear,
Stretch onward in thy fleet career!

Fast as the fatal symbol flies,

In arms the huts and hamlets rise;
From winding glen, from upland brown,⚫
Then poured each hardy tenant down;
Nor slacked the messenger his pace;
He showed the sign, he named the place,
And, pressing forward like the wind,
Left clamor and surprise behind.

The fisherman forsook the strand;
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand;
With changéd cheer the mower blithe
Left in the half-cut swath the scythe;
The herds without a keeper strayed;
The plow was in mid-furrow stayed;
The falconer tossed his hawk away;
The hunter left the stag at bay;
Prompt at the signal of alarms,
Each son of Alpine rushed to arms.

Speed, Malise, speed! The lake is passed,
Duncraggan's huts appear at last,

Half hidden, in the copse so g
There may'st thou rest, thy la
Their lord shall speed the sign

[The order for the gathering is given, and Ma messenger.]

6. Angus, the heir of Duncan's li Sprang forth and seized the fa In haste the stripling to his si His father's dirk and broads w But when he saw his mother's Watch him in speechless agon Back to her opened arms he fl Pressed on her lips a fond adi "Alas!" she sobbed, --" and And speed thee forth, like Du

7. Then, like the high-bred colt, First he essays his fire and sp He vanished, and o'er moor an Sped forward with the fiery cr O'er dale and hill the summon Nor rest nor pause young Ang The tear that gathered in his e He left the mountain breeze to

8. Swoln was the stream, remote But Angus paused not on the Though the dark waves dance Though reeled his sympathetic He dashed a mid the torrent's

His right hand high the crosslet bore,
His left the pole-ax grasped, to guide
And stay his footing in the tide.

He stumbled twice; - the foam splashed high
With hoarser swell the stream raced by;
But still, as if in parting life,

Firmer he grasped the cross of strife;
Until the opposing bank he gained,
And up the chapel pathway strained.

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes,
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze,
Rushing, in conflagration strong,
Thy deep ravines and dells along,
Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow,
And redd'ning the dark lakes below;
Nor faster speeds it, nor so far,
As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand
Could hardly buckle on his brand,

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow
Were yet scarce terror to the crow,
Each valley, each sequestered glen,
Mustered its little horde of men,
That met as torrents from the height
In Highland dales their streams unite,
Still gathering, as they pour along,
A voice more loud, a tide more strong;

Till at the rendezvous they stood,
By hundreds, prompt for blows and blood;

There is something so comical in those pygmy and stockings sprawling on the floor, they look they could jump up and run off if they wanted here is something so laughable about those little rs, which appear to be making futile attempts to up into the easy-chair, the said trousers still ng the shape of Johnny's active legs, and refusgo to sleep; there is something, I say, about things, and about Johnny himself, which makes icult for me to remember that, when Johnny is , he possesses the cunning of Machiavel and the oid of the Capitaine Fracasse.

I verily believe he was not more than eleven days d twenty-two inches long, when he showed a def temper that would have been respectable in an iant. On that occasion he turned very red in the - he was superfluously red before, doubled up liculous hands in the most threatening manner, nally, in the impotency of rage, punched himself eye.

By the time he was two years of age I had got the ing bitter maxim by heart: "Whenever J. is parly quiet, look out for squalls." He was sure to be ne mischief. I am not thinking so much of the when he painted my writing-desk with raspberry s of the occasion when he perpetrated an act of al cruelty on Mopsey, a favorite kitten in the

hold.

We were sitting in the library. Johnny was playthe front hall. In view of the supernatural ess that reigned, I remarked suspiciously, "Johnny y quiet, my dear." At that moment a series of cic mews was heard in the entry, followed by a vio