rsion. She played something brilliant, and
then sang an Italian song in strillaceous style, revealing to
Donal's clownish ignorance a thorough mastery of caterwauling. Then
she asked Miss Kimble to play something, who declined, without
mentioning that she had neither voice nor ear nor love of music, but
said Miss Galbraith should sing--"for once in a way, as a
treat.--That little Scotch song you sing now and then, my dear," she
added.

Ginevra rose timidly, but without hesitation, and going to the
piano, sang, to a simple old Scotch air, to which they had been
written, the following verses. Before she ended, the minister, the
late herd-boy, and the dumb baronet were grouped crescent-wise
behind the music-stool.

I dinna ken what's come ower me!
There's a how whaur ance was a hert; (hollow)
I never luik oot afore me,
An' a cry winna gar me stert;
There's naething nae mair to come ower me,
Blaw the win' frae ony airt. (quarter)

For i' yon kirkyaird there's a hillock,
A hert whaur ance was a how;
An' o' joy there's no left a mealock--(crumb)
Deid aiss whaur ance was a low; (ashes)(flame)
For i' you kirkyaird, i' the hillock,
Lies a seed 'at winna grow.

It's my hert 'at hauds up the wee hillie--
That's hoo there's a how i' my breist;
It's awa' doon there wi' my Willie,
Gaed wi' him whan he was releast;
It's doon i' the green-grown hillie,
But I s' be efter it neist.

Come awa', nichts and mornin's,
Come ooks, years, a' time's clan;
Ye're walcome ayont a' scornin':
Tak me till him as fest as ye can.
Come awa', nichts an' mornin's,
Ye are wings o' a michty span!

For I ken he's luikin' an' waitin',
Luikin' aye doon as I clim':
Wad I hae him see me sit greitin',
I'stead o' gaein' to him?
I'll step oot like ane sure o' a meetin',
I'll traivel an' rin to him.

Three of them knew that the verses were Donal's. If the poet went
home feeling more like a fellow in blue coat and fustian trowsers,
or a winged genius of the tomb, I leave my reader to judge. Anyhow,
he felt he had had enough for one evening, and was able to encounter
his work again. Perhaps also, when supper was announced, he
reflected that his reception had hardly been such as to justify him
in partaking of their food, and that his mother's hospitality to Mr.
Sclater had not been in expectation of return. As they went down
the stair, he came last and alone, behind the two whisperi