naturally shrewd, soon divined the state of the case, saw Jock's perturbation, and resolved to have some fun by teasing him a So with a "dunsh" of his elbow he began

bit.

"I

say, Jock."

"What?"

"Man, ye've gotten a braw lass for a sweetheart. I wuss I

"What wad a bit callant like you dae wi' a sweetheart? Ye are sune eneuch at that wark five year after this. But ye-ye think Peggy Sheerlaw a braw lass ?"

"Ay, and mony a lad forby me.

It's weel ye've nicket her. It was real smart o' ye, Jock, to get in afore the lave."

66 Dae-dae ye think ony o' the lads hae a notion o’ her ?” "Lots o' them. But of coorse, sin' ye hae gotten her promise, it' a' richt."

'Weel, but ye see, Jock-I-the fact is-I hinna got her promise yet, and that's what bathers me.”

"Losh! man, wull she no hae ye ?"

"I dinna ken. I'm gaun to ax her the nicht, and-andLord! it's an awfu' job."

"An awfu' job, sure eneuch," said Bob. "Mind, Peggy is no an ordinar' lass. She may coont ye very upsettin', Jock." "Just my ain thocht. I think, Bob, oo'l gang back."

66 No, no. Try her, man, try her. Naething like kennin' the best or the warst at ance. Come on-yonder's the licht o' Riggfit kitchen window. Come on, Jock, and I'll sune get Peggy oot tae ye."

"Stop-stop a minute, Bob lad-that is-I'm thinkin' it's owre sune to-to-see her."

"Owre sune!" echoed Bob resolutely, "it's no that; it's past nine o'clock, and ye ken her maister wunna let her oot if it's later. We maun gang forrit this minute, or ye'll no see her the nicht."

Thus goaded on, Jock proceeded down the hill in anything but an enviable state of mind. He was in for it now, and clenched his hands and set his teeth hard together in the effort to screw his courage to the sticking place. At a short distance from the house he paused by Bob's direction, while the latter went forward to perform his part of the night's business. In a

period much shorter than Jock wished, he was back with the intimation that he had succeeded in his errand.

"She's comin' oot as sune as she pits on the tatties for the supper."

"Hoo did

"Is she?" gasped Jock, a cold sweat breaking all over him, and a queer creeping sensation going down his back. she look when ye said that I had come to see her ?" "Awfu' cross," replied Bob, with a malicious grin. "Oh, Lord! Gang back again, Bob, and say I'll see her some ither nicht."

"I'll dae nae sic thing. Ye maun see her now. Sae guid nicht wi' ye, Jock. I'll be in my bed lang afore ye come back," and Bob, with another grinning laugh, scampered off.

Jock had some wild thoughts of rushing after him, but with a desperate effort he o'ermastered the impulse, and heroically stood his ground. Scarcely had Bob disappeared up the braewhen the faint sound of a door creaking on its hinges made his throbbing heart beat faster, and, when he discerned a figure glide past the end of the house and come towards him, he felt ready to drop. The figure was that of Peggy, happy with the hope that Jock meant at last to speak his mind. Mechanically the latter moved a step or two to meet her, but, do as he might, it was some moments ere he could articulate a syllable, and, when at last his tongue was a little loosened, all that he could say was

"P-P-Peggy, is this you?"

"Just me, Jock," was the prompt response. the nicht?"

"I'm rale weel. Hoo-hoo are ye yersel' ?" 'Brawly; I ne'er was better."

66

"Hoo are ye

"Eh-I'm gled o' that (a pause). It's very wundy."

66

Very. And it's awful cauld oot here on the road," hinted the maiden."

"So it is," assented Jock (another pause). "Hoo is the kye daein' noo, wuman?"

"Oh, just as weel as they used to do."

"And-and the hens?"

"The hens tae. They are layin' very big eggs the now." "I'm gled o' that, Peggy. It's a grand thing a hen's egg." There he stopped, and, silence again falling between them, Peggy broke in by giving another hint.

"We got the hay into the stackyard yesterday." "Did ye? Is't a guid crap?"

"I believe sae. They hae built twa stacks at the back o the hoose."

"Are—are they weel built?"

"Losh! what ken I aboot that?" returned Peggy, impatiently; "a' that I ken aboot them is that they mak'a fine beild on a wundy nicht like this."

"Ay-hay is a very warm thing. (Another pause). Yoyonder's the stars; are nae they very bonny?"

Oh, they are weel eneuch. Hech, but it's cauld."

"Dreedfu"," assented Jock, though the sweat was pouring over his face.

Again there was a pause, and it lasted so long that Peggy, despairing of getting him to understand, said

"I'll hae to gang awa' in now-it's getting late." "Ay-so-so it is."

"Guid nicht, than, Jock."

"Eh

"Guid nicht," and she began to move away.

"Oh, stop-stop a wee—

-I-I wad like tae hae a crack wi' ye." "But, man, it's sae cauld—and if ye hinna onything particular to say- ""

"Yes-I-I-hae-something-p-p-particular to say." "Then had we no better gang round to the stackyard—into the beild?"

Jock assented, and, moving roond to the lea side of the largest hay rick, she sat down, and down, too, sat Jock-at two yards distance.

"Weel, Jock, what is't?"

The awful moment had come now, and Jock made a desperate plunge into the subject by saying

66

Peggy, woman, what dae ye think o' me?"

"Troth, Jock, I think ye are no very weel enow."

"Ay-but-I mean-what dae ye think o' me a'thegither?" "What a daft-like question. I canna tell ye that, Jock.” “Then—may I tell ye what I think o' you?"

"If ye like."

"I-I think ye are a rale nice lassie-a rale-a very rale, nice, lassie, and-and I've lang thocht sae-ye-ye're no ill pleased, are ye?"

"What wad I be ill pleased for?"

"For me daurin' tae say sae. But-there's mair to comegin I could but get it oot-for, ye see—I—I—eh, Peggy, woman-I lo'e ye.'

"And what for did ye no tell me this afore, Jock?"

"Because I durstna," cried Jock, the fountain of his heart overflowing at last, and a full stream gushing forth. "I kenned I wasna guid eneuch for ye, and I was feared ye wad think me impident and upsettin'. But, oh, Peggy, lass, I lo'e ye weel-nicht and day hae I thocht o' ye, and a thoosand times hae I wished that I could open my mind. And, noo that I hae dune it, Peggy, dinna scorn me. If I hae displeased ye, oh, say sae gently, and I'll gang awa'-but dinna speak disdainfu', for that wad kill me. It may be very daurin' o' the like o' me to speak to you o' love-me that's but a man within the hoose--but I couldna help it, and if I hae dune wrang I'll leave Braxton at the Martinmas, and never trouble ye mair. Speak, Peggy, lass-speak, and tell me, for, oh, I lo'e ye weel." "I kenned that langsyne, Jock," said Peggy, in gentle, tremulous accents.

"Did ye—and ye-ye're no angert ?” "What would I be angert for?"

"And could ye-dae ye think ye ever could-lo'e me? Wull ye try?"

"I dinna need to try, Jock, for I lo'e ye already."

Jock sprang up and bent towards her. He saw she had turned her face full upon him, and in a very delirium of joy he sprang over the two yards which separated them, and clasped her rapturously to his bosom. Peggy gave herself freely up to his caress, glad at heart that he who had a place-and the only place-in her affections, had at length enabled her to acknowledge it without any breach of maidenly propriety.

Such was the happy issue of Jock Rippeth's Courtship. As to results, we shall discreetly draw a veil over those which took place on the instant, merely remarking that Peggy had no longer any reason to consider her lover "blate or bashfu." As for Jock himsel', Willie Harrower had predicted that he would return to Braxton "blythe as a lintie." That comparison fell far short of the reality. Jock went home" a new man a'thegither." His heavy burden of fear and despondency was gone. He had conquered his timidity, he had asserted his

manhood, he had confessed his honest love, and found that it was reciprocated; in a word, he had proved beyond question the truth of the good old proverb, "Never venture never win."

THE FOXES' TAILS.

"Weel, Sandy," said the minister of a parish church, in a small fishing village on the east. coast of Scotland, to his precentor, as he entered the vestry, after having preached what he thought a very learned and well-constructed sermon; "Weel, Sandy, man, and how did you like the sermon the day?"

"Eh?"

"I say, how did you like the sermon ?"

66

Oh, the sermon ; weel-a-a.

maist forget how I likit it."

"D'ye no mind the sermon, Sandy?"

The sermon ; od-a-I

"Weel, I wadna jist like to say I didna mind it, but ye see

"D'ye no mind the text, then ?"

"Oh, ay, I mind the text weel eneuch-I aye mind the text." "Weel, d'ye no mind the sermon ?"

"Bide a meenit-bide a meenit; I'm thinking. Hoots, ay, I mind the sermon, noo; ay, I mind it fine.”

"What d'ye mind aboot it?"

“A—a—ye—a—said the warl' was lyin' in wickedness."

"Tuts, man, ony fule kens that.

discourse as a whole ?"

"I thocht it was ower lang."

What did you think o' the

"Tut, tut. Weel, what did ye think o't in the abstract?” "The abstract? Weel, I thocht the abstract was raither drumlie now an' then, as a whole, like."

66 Man, d'ye understand yer ain language? I ask ye what was your opeenion o' the nature-the gist-pith-marrow o3. the discourse?"

"Ay, jist that. Weel, it was-it was evangelical."

'Evangelical! of course it was evangelical. Was't no more than that?"