Oh, say not that the mother's breast,

Is to her ailing child a nest.

When she is laid, the turf below,

Who then shall soothe the orphan's woe?

I WAS born in the little village of Bonnytown, so cosily situated in one of the pleasantest holms of the sylvan Esk. Many a day, both of cloud and sunshine, has passed over me since I bade it farewell; but the trees and hedges are still evergreens in my remembrance; and I never look at "the pictures in the big Ha' Bible," where the saints are seen crowned with glory,

but I think of the sanctified old church, sur

rounded, in the solemnity of the churchyard, with its halo of tomb-stones.

My father was a poor man, but honest and industrious. With hard labour, constancy, and the fear of God, he followed the trade of a nailmaker. In his religious principles, he was a Presbyterian of the old leaven of the Covenant; and, since I have had an opportunity of seeing men, and of observing their walk and conversations in the world, I have not met with a more conscientious Christian. He was lowly and meek in his dispositions, and regarded with a sorrowful gentleness the faults, as well as the frailties of human nature.

His constitutional piety made him see all things with the eyes of benevolence, and he cherished a sedate persuasion, that whatsoever came to pass, though at the time it might be an affliction, was yet the forerunner of good. Supported by this comforting opinion, he endured misfortunes with singular patience, even whilst it was evident, that to him evils were no lighter than to those who were more audible in their sufferings. He enjoyed, likewise, a large

gift of common sense, which enabled him to discern the latent folly of many a plausible speculation, and by this sober mother wit, he ob tained greater reverence amongst his neighbours than belonged to his humble station, or even to the sanctity of his office, as an elder of the parish.

The earliest event whereof I retain any distinct imagery, was the death of my mother. I was then in my third year; of herself I bear no recollection, but the death-bed spectacle is still vivid. I yet see the family weeping around her, and I hear a fearful sound:-my father gives her drink from a small white porringer which, long afterwards, as it stood untouched in the cupboard, I regarded with awe and sorrow, I knew not wherefore-He softly withdraws his arm from behind her-he rises from the bed-side, -the sound is gone, and she moves no more.

My father, as I have said, was poor, but he was very kind, and his straitened means gave him only a small command over the serviceable. The woman whom he hired to keep his house was negligent, and had but little sympathy for her helpless trust. By her carelessness-I, being

weakly and needful of cherishing-lost the use of my limbs, and fell into a dwindling condition, insomuch, that when I was upwards of ten years old, a five year bairn was in comparison a Sampson.

During this period I learned something of the mysteries of human nature, as I lay playing like an ashy-pet on the hearth. Those around regarding me as a heedless, harmless baby, said and did many things in my presence, presuming I knew not their meaning or intent: many a droll scene, and favours, secret, sweet, and precious have I witnessed among the lads and lasses who used of a night to assemble at our house, in the winter evenings, when my father, he being an elder, was at the Session, anent the crying consequences of siclike kittling in corners.

But even in that state of neglect and misfortune, by which I was marred in my growth and made a lamiter for life, as it was then thought, I can yet see, as in all my other troubles, that present evil is the husk in which Providence has enclosed the germ of prosperity. If my decrepid limbs would not let me be a

partaker in the bounding blessedness of the Saturday afternoon, they caused me to sit on the stool of observation, and to read with thoughtfulness the daily page of passing time. It is true, that the treatise of our homestead was of small matters, but in riper years, when far abroad in the world, I often wondered that the wise and the learned and the business of great cities, were so little different from the carls and the cares of our own lown and lowly village.

Thus it came to pass, that the neighbours thought me, while I was yet but a perfect laddie, something by ordinar, and the minister once said to my father before me, who was lamenting my weakly condition, that if I was a dwarf in body I had surely a giant's head.

"I hope no', reverend Sir," said I, "for I never heard that giants were remarkable for sagacity; but the wee fairies, ye ken, are masters of men in understanding."

It was not only in that way that my infirmity proved profitable: it became, when I had recovered my health, a spur in the side of my ambition, and led me to ettle at butts far be