and left him "clean dune oot." At last the fish lay,
a magnificent monster, stretched on the shingle. With aching arms but
thankful heart, Rob moved away a trifle to lift a stone wherewith to
smite his captive over the head. And with that, Rob's back being partly
turned, from the tail of his eye he saw the salmon give a wammle. In
novels, it is usually "but the work of a moment" for the hero to turn
and perform some noted feat. Here, alas! it was different. It was but
the work of a moment, certainly, for Rob to turn, and to jump on the
huge salmon. But there all resemblance to the typical hero ceased, for
the line fouled his foot, and broke as it tripped him up; and before the
fisherman knew where he was, he and the salmon were struggling together
in deep water. It was only Rob that came out. _Sic transit_. Trust not a
fish till the bag closes on him.

THE GHOST THAT DANCED AT JETHART

Six centuries before Edward the Peacemaker reigned over Britain, the
people of Scotland knew the blessing of having for a King one who was
known as "The King of Peace."

Alexander the Third was a child of eight when he inherited the Scottish
crown, and was only two years older when he married the Princess
Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry the Third of England. Even in his
early boyhood the young King displayed a wisdom, an energy, and a
forcefulness in his management of affairs that marked him for a great
ruler, and made his royal father-in-law's fond vision of gradually
gaining such an ascendancy over Scotland, that he might in time be able
to claim that kingdom as an appanage of England, fade altogether away.
Alexander had only recently come of age when he had to defend his
country against her old enemies, the Norsemen, and his complete victory
was a triumph for him and for his people. Nineteen years later, his only
daughter, Margaret, married Eric, King of Norway, and the Scots saw
peace for them and for their children smiling on them from every side.
But if prosperity as a monarch was his, misfortune overshadowed King
Alexander's private life. His wife died; his children died. His eldest
son, born at Jedburgh, and married, as a lad, to a daughter of the Count
of Flanders, died childless. His daughter, the young Queen of Norway,
died the year after her marriage, leaving behind her the baby who has
come down to us, even through chilly history, as a pitiful little
figure, known as "The Maid of Norway."

In 1285 King Alexande