hymns to the rising sun. She, of a' women, was the maist likely to
bewitch puir Sandy; and she did bewitch him. A strong liking sprang up
between them. They couldna conceal their partiality for ane anither.
He was everything that was perfect in her een, and she was an angel in
his. Her name was Ann; and he had celebrated it in every measure, from
the hop-and-step line of four syllables to that o' fourteen, which
rolleth like the echoing o' the trumpet.

Now her faither, though a ceevil and a kind man, was also a shrewd,
sharp-sighted, and determined man; and he saw the flutter that had
risen up in the breasts o' his daughter and the young tutor. So he
sent for Sandy, and without seeming to be angry wi' him, or even
hinting at the cause--

"Mr Rutherford," said he, "you are aware that I am highly gratified
with the manner in which you have discharged the duties of tutor to my
boys; but I have been thinking that it will be more to their advantage
that their education, for the future, be a public one, and to-morrow I
intend sending them to a boarding-school in Yorkshire."

"To-morrow!" said Sandy, mechanically, scarce knowing what he said, or
where he stood.

"To-morrow," added Mr. Crompton; "and I have sent for you, sir, in
order to settle with you respecting your salary."

This was bringing the matter home to the business and the bosom o' the
scholar somewhat suddenly. Little as he was versed in the ways o' the
world, something like the real cause for the hasty removal o' his
pupils to Yorkshire began to dawn upon his mind. He was stricken with
dismay and with great agony, and he longed to pour out his soul upon
the gentle bosom o' Ann. But she had gone on a visit with her mother
to a friend in a different part of the country, and Mr Crompton was to
set out with his sons for Yorkshire on the following day. Then, also,
would Sandy have to return to the humble roof o' his mother. When he
retired to pack up his books and his few things, he wrung his
hands--yea, there were tears upon his cheeks--and, in the bitterness
of the spirit, he said--

"My own sweet Ann! and shall I never see thee again--never hear
thee--never hope!" And he laid his hand upon his forehead, and pressed
it there, repeating as he did so--"never! oh, never!"

I was surprised beyond measure when Sandy came back to Annan, and, wi'
a wobegone countenance, called upon me. I thought that Mr. Crompton
was not a man of the discernment and sagacity that