over!'
"'No, but it's not,' she said; 'it is not over, nor will be.
Was it not, then,' she asked, 'the name I called you first by?
No, Mr. Philip, no. You have kissed me enough for two nights.
No.--Come, Philip, come, or I'll go myself without you.'
"'You never call me Philip,' he answered, 'until I kiss you.'"
--pp. 47, 48.

David Mackaye gives his consent; but first Hewson must return to
College, and study for a year.

His views have not been stationary. To his old scorn for the idle of
the earth had succeeded the surprise that overtook him at Balloch:
and he would now hold to his creed, yet not as rejecting his
experience. Some, he says, were made for use; others for ornament;
but let these be so _made_, of a truth, and not such as find
themselves merely thrust into exemption from labor. Let each know his
place, and take it, "For it is beautiful only to do the thing we are
meant for." And of his friend urging Providence he can only, while
answering that doubtless he must be in the right, ask where the limit
comes between circumstance and Providence, and can but wish for a
great cause, and the trumpet that should call him to God's battle,
whereas he sees

"Only infinite jumble and mess and dislocation,
Backed by a solemn appeal, 'For God's sake, do not stir there.'"
And the year is now out.
"Philip returned to his books, but returned to his Highlands after....
There in the bright October, the gorgeous bright October,
When the brackens are changed, and heather blooms are faded,
And, amid russet of heather and fern, green trees are bonnie,
There, when shearing had ended, and barley-stooks were garnered,
David gave Philip to wife his daughter, his darling Elspie;
Elspie, the quiet, the brave, was wedded to Philip, the poet.....
So won Philip his bride. They are married, and gone to New Zealand.
Five hundred pounds in pocket, with books and two or three pictures,
Tool-box, plough, and the rest, they rounded the sphere to New Zealand.
There he hewed and dug; subdued the earth and his spirit."
--pp. 52-55.

Among the prominent attributes of this poem is its completeness. The
elaboration, not only of character and of mental discipline, but of
incident also, is unbroken. The absences of all mention of Elspie in
the opening scene and again at the dance at Rannoch may at first seem
to be a failure in this respect; but second thoughts will show it to
be far otherwise: for, i