and worthy notion of what a child was, and what could and
ought to be done for the development of the divine germ that lay in the
human egg, and had found that the best she could do for any child, or
indeed anybody, was to be good herself.

Rose married a young fisherman, and made a brave wife and mother. To the
end of her days she regarded the marquis almost as a being higher than
human, an angel that had found and saved her.

Kelpie had a foal, and, apparently in consequence, grew so much more
gentle that at length Malcolm consented that Clementina, who was an
excellent horsewoman, should mount her. After a few attempts to unseat
her, not of the most determined kind, however, Kelpie, on her part,
consented to carry her, and ever after seemed proud of having a mistress
that could ride. Her foal turned out a magnificent horse. Malcolm did
not allow him to do anything that could be called work before he was
eight years old, and had the return at the other end, for when Goblin
was thirty he rode him still, and, to judge by appearances, might but
for an accident have ridden him ten years more.

It was not long ere people began to remark that no one now ever heard
the piper utter the name _Campbell_. An ill-bred youth once--it was well
for him that Malcolm was not near--dared the evil word in his presence:
a cloud swept across the old man's face, but he held his peace, and to
the day of his death, which arrived in his ninety-first year, it never
crossed his lips. He died with the Lossie pipes on his bed, Malcolm on
one side of him and Clementina on the other.

Some of my readers may care to know that Phemy and Davy were married,
and made the quaintest, oldest-fashioned little couple, with hearts
which king and beggar might equally have trusted.

Malcolm's relations with the fisher-folk, founded as they were in truth
and open uprightness, were not in the least injured by his change of
position. He made it a point to be always at home during the
herring-fishing. Whatever might be going on in London, the marquis and
marchioness, their family and household, were sure to leave in time for
the commencement of that. Those who admired Malcolm--of whom there were
not a few even in Vanity Fair--called him the fisher-king: the wags
called him the kingfisher, and laughed at the oddity of his taste in
preferring what he called his duty to the pleasures of the season. But
the marquis found even the hen-pecked Partan a nobler and more