"Are you mad?” said the mendicant. "Francie o' Fowlsheugh, and he was the best craigsman that ever speel'd heugh (mair by token, he brake his neck upon the Dunbuy of Slaines), wadna hae ventured upon the Halket-head craigs after sundown. It's heaven's grace, and a great wonder besides, that ye are not in the middle o' that roaring sea wi' what ye hae done already. But to venture up again-it's a mere and a clear tempting o' Providence." "I have no fear," answered Lovel; "I marked all the stations perfectly as I came down, and there is still light enough left to see them quite well-I am sure I can do it with perfect safety. Stay here, my good friend, by Sir Arthur and the young lady." with those lights of evening which still remained amidst the darkness of the storm. On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled. The fishers had brought with them the mast of a boat, and as half of the country fellows about had now appeared, either out of zeal or curiosity, it was soon sunk in the ground, and sufficiently secured. A yard across the upright mast, and a rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair, well secured and fastened, down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted. Their joy at hearing the preparations going on for their deliverance was considerably qualified when they "Deil be in my feet then," answered the bedes-beheld the precarious vehicle by means of which man sturdily; “if ye gang, I'll gang too; for between the twa o' us, we'll hae mair than wark eneugh to get to the tap o' the heugh." they were to be conveyed to upper air. It swung about a yard free of the spot which they occupied, obeying each impulse of the tempest, the empty air all around it, and depending upon the security of a rope, which, in the increasing darkness, had dwindled to an almost imperceptible thread. Besides the hazard of committing a human being to the vacant atmosphere in such a slight means of conveyance, there was the fearful danger of the chair and its occupant being dashed, either by the wind or the vibrations of the cord, against the rugged face of the precipice. Yet wild as the sounds and sights of danger were both above, beneath, and around, and doubtful and dangerous as the mode of escaping appeared to be, Lovel and the old mendicant agreed, after a moment's consultation, and after the former, by a sudden strong "The skriegh of a Tammie Norie," answered pull, had, at his own imminent risk, ascertained Ochiltree, "I ken the skirl weel." "No, by Heaven," replied Lovel, "it was a human voice!" the security of the rope, that it would be best to secure Miss Wardour in the chair, and trust to the tenderness and care of those above for her being safely craned up to the top of the crag. A distant hail was repeated, the sound plainly distinguishable among the various elemental noises, and the clang of the sea-mews by which they were surrounded. The mendicant and Lovel exerted their voices in a loud halloo, the former waving Miss Wardour's handkerchief on the ending accurately the security of each knot. of his staff to make them conspicuous from above. Though the shouts were repeated, it was some time before they were in exact response to their own, leaving the unfortunate sufferers uncertain whether, in the darkening twilight and increasing storm, they had made the persons who apparently were traversing the verge of the precipice to bring them assistance, sensible of the place in which they had found refuge. At length their halloo was regularly and distinctly answered, and their courage confirmed, by the assurance that they were within hearing, if not within reach, of friendly assistance. With the sedulous attention of a parent to a child, Lovel bound Miss Wardour with his handkerchief, neckcloth, and the mendicant's leathern belt, to the back and arms of the chair, ascertain The shout of human voices from above was soon augmented, and the gleam of torches mingled "Farewell, my father," murmured Isabella"farewell, my-my friends;" and shutting her eyes, as Edie's experience recommended, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who were above. She rose, while the chair in which she sat was kept steady by the line which Lovel managed beneath. With a beating heart he watched the flutter of her dress, until the vehicle was on a level with the brink of the precipice. Canny now, lads, canny now!" exclaimed old Mucklebackit, who acted as commodore; "swerve the yard a bit. Now-there! there she sits, safe on dry land!" A loud shout announced the successful experi ment to her fellow-sufferers beneath, who replied "Ane that's weel worth ony twa o' us, Monkbarns-it's the young stranger lad they ca' Lovel and he's behaved this blessed night as if he had three lives to rely on, and was willing to waste them a' rather than endanger ither folks'. Ca' hooly, sirs, as ye wad win an auld man's blessing! mind there's naebody below now to haud the gy "Right, right, that's right. But he's safe now, and here a' comes (for the chair was again-hae a care o' the Cat's-lug-corner-bide weel aff lowered, and Sir Arthur made fast in it, without Crummie's-horn!" much consciousness on his own part) here a' comes -bowse, away my boys-canny wi' him. Welcome, welcome, my good old friend, to firm land, though I cannot say to warm land or to dry land." While Oldbuck ran on in this way, Sir Arthur was safely wrapped in the close embraces of his daughter, who, assuming that authority which the circumstances demanded, ordered some of the assistants to convey him to the chariot, promising to follow shortly. She lingered on the cliff, holding an old countryman's arm, to witness probably the safety of those whose dangers she had shared. "What have we here?" said Oldbuck, as the vehicle once more ascended. 'What patched and weather-beaten matter is this?" Then, as the Lovel did, in fact, run a much greater risk than any of his precursors. His weight was not sufficient to render his ascent steady amid such a storm of wind, and he swung like an agitated pendulum, at the mortal risk of being dashed against the rocks. But he was young and bold, and retained his alertness of exertion and presence of mind; and it was not until he was safely grounded upon the summit of the cliff that he felt temporary and giddy sickness. As he recovered from a sort of half swoon, he cast his eyes eagerly around. The object which they would most willingly have sought, was already in the act of vanishing. Her white garment was just discernible as she followed on the path which her father had taken. THE WONDERS OF THE LANE. STRONG climber of the mountain side, Yet walk with me where hawthorns hide The moorland hath not yet put on His purple, green, and gold. But here the titling* spreads his wing, Where dewy daisies gleam; And here the sunflowert of the spring Burns bright in morning's beam. To mountain winds the famished fox Complains that Sol is slow O'er headlong steeps and gushing rocks But here the lizard seeks the sun, Oh, then, while hums the earliest bee, * The Hedge Sparrow. For, oh, I love these banks of rock, These tufts, where sleeps the gloaming clock, As spirits from eternal day Look down on earth secure, Gaze thou, and wonder, and survey A world in miniature; A world not scorned by Him who made And splendid in his light. O'er storm-loved mountains spread, Or widely-teaching sun and star Thy glorious thoughts are read; Yon drop-fed lake, six inches wide, Is Huron, girt with wood; This driplet feeds Missouri's tide- What tidings from the Andes brings That down from heaven in madness flings Do I not hear his thunder roll-- "Tis mute as death!-but in my soul It roars, and ever will. What forests tall of tiniest moss What pigmy oaks their foliage toss O'er pigmy valleys lone! With shade o'er shade, from ledge to ledge, Ambitious of the sky, They feather o'er the steepest edge Of mountains mushroom high. O God of marvels! who can tell What myriad living things On these grey stones unseen may dwell! I feel no shock, I hear no groan A hundred ruined realms! Lo! in that dot, some mite, like me, May crawl, some atom cliffs to see- Lo! while he pauses, and admires The work of Nature's might, Spurned by my foot, his world expires, And all to him is night! O God of terrors! what are we ?Poor insects, sparked with thought! Thy whisper, Lord, a word from thee, Could smite us into nought! But shouldst thou wreck our father-land. And mix it with the deep, Safe in the hollow of Thy hand Thy little ones would sleep. THE SCHOOL. THE SCHOOLMASTER AND AMONG the worthies of the village that enjoy the He is a native of the village, and was a contemporary and playmate of Ready-Money Jack in the days of their boyhood. Indeed, they carried on a kind of league of mutual good offices. Slingsby was rather puny, and withal somewhat of a coward, but very apt at his learning; Jack, on the contrary, was a bully-boy out of doors, but a sad laggard at his books. Slingsby helped Jack, therefore, to all his lessons; Jack fought all Slingsby's battles; and they were inseparable friends. This mutual kindness continued even after they left school, notwithstanding the dissimilarity of their characters. Jack took to ploughing and reaping, and prepared himself to till his paternal acres; while the other loitered negligently on in the path of learning, until he 49-VOL. I. penetrated even to the confines of Latin and mathematics. In an unlucky hour, however, he took to reading voyages and travels, and was smitten with a desire to see the world. This desire increased upon him as he grew up; so, early one bright, sunny morning, he put all his effects in a knapsack, slung it on his back, took staff in hand, and called on his way to take leave of his early schoolmate. Jack was just going out with the plough: the friends shook hands over the farm-house gate; Jack drove his team afield, and Slingsby whistled "over the hills and far away," and sallied forth gaily to "seek his fortune." Years and years passed by, and young Tom Slingsby was forgotten; when, one mellow Sunday afternoon in autumn, a thin man, somewhat advanced in life, v. a coat out at elbows, a pair of old nankeen gaiters, and a few things tied in a handkerchief, and slung on the end of a stick, was seen loitering through the village, He appeared to regard several houses attentively, to peer into the windows that were open, to eye the villagers wistfully as they returned from church, and then to pass some time in the churchyard, reading the tombstones. At length he found his way to the farmhouse of Ready-Money Jack, but paused ere he attempted the wicket, contemplating the picture of substantial independence before him. In the porch of the house sat Ready-Money Jack, in his Sunday dress, with his hat upon his head, his pipe in his mouth, and his tankard before him, the monarch of all he surveyed. Beside him lay his fat house-dog. The varied sounds of poultry were heard from the well-stocked farm-yard; the bees hummed from their hives in the garden; the cattle lowed in the rich meadow; while the crammed barns and ample stacks bore proof of an abundant harvest. The stranger opened the gate and advanced dubiously towards the house. The mastiff growled at the sight of the suspicious-looking intruder, but was immediately silenced by his master, who, taking his pipe from his mouth, awaited with inquiring aspect the address of this equivocal personage. The stranger eyed old Jack for a moment, so portly in his dimensions, and decked out in gorgeous apparel; then cast a glance upon his own threadbare and starving condition, and the scanty bundle which he held in his hand; then giving his shrunk waistcoat a twitch to make it meet his receding waistband, and casting another look, half sad, half humorous, at the sturdy yeoman, “I suppose," said he, “Mr. Tibbets, you have forgot old times and old playmates ?" The latter gazed at him with scrutinising look, but acknowledged that he had no recollection of him. “Like enough, like enough," said the stranger; "everybody seems to have forgotten poor Slingsby." "Why, no sure! it can't be Tom Slingsby?" "Yes, but it is, though!" replied the stranger, shaking his head. Ready-Money Jack was on his feet in a twinkling; thrust out his hand, gave his ancient crony the grip of a giant, and slapping the other hand on a bench, "Sit down there," cried he, "Tom Slingsby !" rolling stone gathers no moss." He had sought his fortune about the world, without ever finding it, being a thing oftener found at home than abroad. He had been in all kinds of situations, and had learnt a dozen different modes of making a living; but had found his way back to his native village rather poorer than when he left it, his knapsack having dwindled down to a scanty bundle. As luck would have it, the squire was passing by the farmhouse that very evening, and called there, as is often his custom. He found the two schoolmates still gossiping in the porch, and, according to the good old Scottish song, "taking a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne." The squire was struck with the contrast in appearance and fortunes of these early playmates. Ready. Money Jack, seated in lordly state, surrounded by the good things of this life, with golden guineas hanging to his very watch chain, and the poor pilgrim, Slingsby, thin as a weasel, with all his worldly effects, his bundle, hat, and walking-staff, lying on the ground beside him. The good squire's heart warmed towards the luckless cosmopolite, for he is a little prone to like such half-vagrant characters. He cast about in his mind how he should contrive once more to anchor Slingsby in his native village. Honest Jack had already offered him a present shelter under his roof, in spite of the hints, and winks, and half remonstrances of the shrewd Dame Tibbets; but how to provide for his permanent maintenance was the question. Luckily the squire bethought himself that the village school was without a teacher. A little farther conversation convinced him that Slingsby was as fit for that as for any. thing else, and in a day or two he was seen swaying the rod of empire in the very schoolhouse where he had often been horsed in the days of his boyhood. Here he has remained for several years, and being honoured by the countenance of the squire, and the fast friendship of Mr. Tibbets, he has grown into much importance and consideration in the village. I am told, however, that he still shows, now and then, a degree of restlessness, and a disposition to rove abroad again, and see a little more of the world; an inclination which seems particularly to haunt him about springtime. There is nothing so difficult to conquer as the vagrant humour, when once it has been fully indulged. A long conversation ensued about old times, while Slingsby was regaled with the best cheer the farmhouse afforded; for he was hungry as well as wayworn, and had the keen appetite of a poor pedestrian. The early playmates then talked over their subsequent lives and adventures. Jack had but little to relate, and v 3 never good at a long story. A prosperous life, passed at home, has little incident for narrative; it is only poor Since I have heard these anecdotes of poor devils, that are tossed about the world, that are Slingsby, I have more than once mused upon the the true heroes of story. Jack had stuck by the picture presented by him and his schoolmate, paternal farm, followed the same plough that his Ready-Money Jack, on their coming together forefathers had driven, and had waxed richer and again after so long a separation. It is difficult to richer as he grew older. As to Tom Slingsby, he determine between lots in life, where each is atwas an exemplification of the old proverb, "Atended with its peculiar discontents. He who |