ere I saw
her, and oh! how I rushed to snatch a grip o' her before she was carried
ower the rocks! But it was in vain--a moment sooner, and I might hae
saved her; but she was hurled ower the precipice when I was within an
arm's length, and making a grasp at her bit frock! My poor little
Jeannie was baith felled and drowned. I plunged into the wheel below the
linn, and got her out in my arms. I ran wi' her to the house, and I laid
my drowned bairn on her mother's knee. Everything that could be done was
done, and a doctor was brought frae Dunse; but the spark o' life was out
o' my bit Jeannie. I felt the bereavement very bitterly; and for many a
day, when Margaret and Andrew sat down at the table by our sides, my
heart filled; for as I was helpin' their plates, I wad put out my hand
again to help anither, but there was nae ither left to help. But Jeannie
took our bairn's death far sairer to heart than even I did. For several
years she never was hersel' again, and just seemed dwinin' awa.
Sea-bathing was strongly recommended; and as she had a friend in
Portobello, I got her to gang there for a week or twa during summer. Our
daughter Margaret was now about eighteen, and her brother Andrew about
fifteen; and as I thought it would do them good, I allowed them to gang
wi' their mither to the bathing. They were awa for about a month, and I
firmly believe that Jeannie was a great deal the better o't. But it was
a dear bathing to me on mony accounts for a' that. Margaret was an
altered lassie a'thegither. She used to be as blithe as a lark in May,
and now there was nae gettin' her to do onything; but she sat couring
and unhappy, and seighin' every handel-a-while, as though she were
miserable. It was past my comprehension, and her mother could assign nae
particular reason for it. As for Andrew, he did naething but yammer,
yammer, frae morn till night, about the sea; or sail boats, rigged wi'
thread and paper sails, in the burn. When he was at the bathing he had
been doun aboot Leith, and had seen the ships, and naething wad serve
him but he would be a sailor. Night and day did he torment my life out
to set him to sea. But I wadna hear tell o't--his mother was perfectly
wild against it, and poor auld grannie was neither to hand nor to bind.
We had suffered enough frae the burn at our door, without trusting our
only son upon the wide ocean. However, all we could say had nae
effect--the craik was never out o' his head; and it was still