,
M.D., M.R.C.S.), but winter weather at Ardmuirland is not altogether of
a balmy nature. Consequently it is necessary that these precious lungs
of mine should not be exposed too rashly to

"the cauld, cauld blast, on yonder lea."

This leads to much enclosure within doors during a good share of the
worst of our months--say from February to May, off and on; this again
leads to a dearth of interesting occupation.

It is Val who is really to be blamed for this literary attempt. When,
in an unlucky moment, I was one day expatiating on the material
afforded to a book-maker (I do not use the word in a sporting sense, of
course) by the varied characters and histories of our people, and the
more than ordinary interest attaching to some, he beamed at me across
the dinner-table, a twinkle of humor disclosing itself from behind his
glasses, and said:

"Why not write about them yourself, Ted? You complain of having
nothing to do in bad weather."

The idea took root; it was nourished by reflection. Here is the fruit;
pluck it or not, gentle reader, as your inclination bids.

II

MEMORIES

"Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain."
(_Goldsmith--"Deserted Village"_)

I have heard a complaint made of some reverend preachers (untruthfully,
I well believe) that they could never begin a sermon without harking
back to the Creation. Now it is not my intention to travel quite so
far back into the past, but I must confess to a desire to dig somewhat
deeply into the history of Ardmuirland in days gone by before touching
upon more recent happenings. Such a desire led me to investigate the
recollections of some of our "oldest inhabitants."

Willy Paterson, I well knew, was to be trusted for accurate memories of
a certain class of happenings; but for more minute details of events
the feminine mind is the more reliable. So I determined to start with
Willy's wife, Bell. Their dwelling is nearest to ours; it stands,
indeed, but a few yards down the road which leads past our gate. It is
a white-walled, thatched house of one story only--like most of the
habitations in Ardmuirland; it stands in a little garden whose neatness
and the prolific nature of its soil are standing proofs of Willy's
industry in hours of leisure.

Owing to the prevalence in our neighborhood of some particular
patronymics--Macdonald, Mackintosh, Mackenzie, and the rest--many
i