.
An' aye &c.

The mistress is plenty for that same gear,
Though ye sangna ear' nor late.
It's to draw the deid frae the moul' sae drear,
An' open the kirkyard gate.
An' aye &c.

Na, na; it's a better sang nor yer ain,
Though ye hae o' notes a feck,
'At wad mak auld Barebanes there sae fain
As to lift the muckle sneck!
But aye &c.

Better ye sing nor a burn i' the mune,
Nor a wave ower san' that flows,
Nor a win' wi' the glintin' stars abune,
An' aneth the roses in rows;
An' aye &c.

But I'll speir ye nae mair, sir, said the herd.
I fear what ye micht say neist.
Ye wad but won'er the mair, said the bird,
To see the thouchts i' my breist.

And aye he sang, an' better he sang,
An' the worms creepit in an' oot;
An' ane he tuik, an' twa he loot gang,
But still he carolled stoot.

I doubt whether Ginevra understood this song better than the first,
but she was now more careful of criticizing; and when by degrees it
dawned upon her that he was the maker of these and other verses he
read, she grew half afraid of Donal, and began to regard him with
big eyes; he became, from a herd-boy, an unintelligible person,
therefore a wonder. For, brought thus face to face with the maker
of verses, she could not help trying to think how he did the thing;
and as she felt no possibility of making verses herself, it remained
a mystery and an astonishment, causing a great respect for the poet
to mingle with the kindness she felt towards Nicie's brother.

CHAPTER XXXI.

THEIR REWARD.

By degrees Gibbie had come to be well known about the Mains and
Glashruach. Angus's only recognition of him was a scowl in return
for his smile; but, as I have said, he gave him no farther
annoyance, and the tales about the beast-loon were dying out from
Daurside. Jean Mavor was a special friend to him: for she knew now
well enough who had been her brownie, and made him welcome as often
as he showed himself with Donal. Fergus was sometimes at home;
sometimes away; but he was now quite a fine gentleman, a student of
theology, and only condescendingly cognizant of the existence of
Donal Grant. All he said to him when he came home a master of arts,
was, that he had expected better of him: he ought to be something
more than herd by this time. Donal smiled and said nothing. He had
just finished a little song that pleased him, and could afford to be
patronized. I am afraid, however, he