another path over the lawn." I thanked the kind old gentleman,
and took my departure.

THE SCOTCH LASSIE'S REGRET

It was not long before I was at the old hall. I rapped at the
kitchen-door according to orders, and a woman of about forty summers made
her appearance. When I mentioned the name given me by the old gentleman
she laughed heartily, and said that if I would come in I should have a
horn or two of beer--if I liked. She was a pleasant-spoken Scotchwoman,
and before I took my leave she said chaffingley that it was a pity she
wasn't twenty years younger, for then she might have been "my lassie."

A BEAUTIFUL LANDSCAPE

Quitting the house I took into the park, and to say that I was delighted
with the scene is not in anywise doing justice to the feelings I
experienced at the time. I can truly say that I have never seen anything
so lovely since--the splendid walks, with their long avenues of
wide-spreading and noble-looking trees; the bright gardens and sparkling
fountains; the babbling burns, crossed here and there by pontoon bridges;
and last, but by no means least, the panoramic bits of the distant
landscape visible through the openings in the trees--all these went to
make up a veritable Arcadia. Then, as I walked further into the park I
saw numbers of wild deer, which looked up at me as I passed by as much as
to say, "What business have you to intrude on our sacred rights?" Well, I
walked and walked, until I thought I was not coming to the end of the
park that day. But soon the path dropped, and disclosed a little valley,
in which were located about a half-dozen thatched dwellings. Here, I
found, lived the gamekeeper and a few farm labourers. At the house I
called at the wee laddies and lassies wondered whatever I was; they had
never before seen a "walking target." The gamekeeper told me that if I
was stationed at Greenlaw Barracks I had walked in a very curious
direction, for I was thirteen miles, by the ordinary road, out of my
course. I was exceedingly ill at ease to hear this pronouncement, and
told him that it would be "hot" for me if I was not in before the
"tattoo," or the "last post." The keeper, I found, was a true Scotchman,
and of a very obliging nature. He proffered to take me through the wood
to a place called Milton Bridge. We started, and were soon at the village
mentioned, where, at the "Fishers' Tryst," we had a "drappie o' whuskey"
over the matter. Then we parted, and I got into b