ine! I ken
there's mony a supper for the bairns and me in yon bits metal; but I
canna feel your siller as I feel your winsome smile--the drop in your
young een--an' the sweet words ye gied me, in the sweet music o' your
Soothern tongue, Gude bless ye!" (Where was her ice by this time?) "Gude
bless ye! and I bless ye!"

And she did bless him; and what a blessing it was; not a melodious
generality, like a stage parent's, or papa's in a damsel's novel. It was
like the son of Barak on Zophim.

She blessed him, as one who had the power and the right to bless or
curse.

She stood on the high ground of her low estate, and her afflictions--and
demanded of their Creator to bless the fellow-creature that had come to
her aid and consolation.

This woman had suffered to the limits of endurance; yesterday she had
said, "Surely the Almighty does na _see_ me a' these years!"

So now she blessed him, and her heart's blood seemed to gush into words.

She blessed him by land and water.

She knew most mortal griefs; for she had felt them.

She warned them away from him one by one.

She knew the joys of life; for she had felt their want.

She summoned them one by one to his side.

"And a fair wind to your ship," cried she, "and the storms aye ten miles
to leeward o' her."

Many happy days, "an' weel spent," she wished him.

"His love should love him dearly, or a better take her place."

"Health to his side by day; sleep to his pillow by night."

A thousand good wishes came, like a torrent of fire, from her lips, with
a power that eclipsed his dreams of human eloquence; and then, changing
in a moment from the thunder of a Pythoness to the tender music of some
poetess mother, she ended:

"An' oh, my boenny, boenny lad, may ye be wi' the rich upon the airth a'
your days--AND WI' THE PUIR IN THE WARLD TO COME!"

His lordship's tongue refused him the thin phrases of society.

"Farewell for the present," said he, and he went quietly away.

He paced thoughtfully home.

He had drunk a fact with every sentence; and an idea with every fact.

For the knowledge we have never realized is not knowledge to us--only
knowledge's shadow.

With the banished duke, he now began to feel, "we are not alone
unhappy." This universal world contains other guess sorrows than yours,
viscount--_scilicet_ than unvarying health, unbroken leisure, and
incalculable income.

Then this woman's eloquence! bless me! he had seen folk murmur politely