aid, 'When fair in Scotland, always carry an umbrella;
when it rains, please yourself,' and I sometimes agree with Stevenson's
shivering statement, 'Life does not seem to me to be an amusement
adapted to this climate.' I quoted this to the doctor yesterday, but he
remarked with some surprise that he had not missed a day's golfing for
weeks. The chemist observed as he handed me a cake of soap, 'Won'erful
blest in weather, we are, mam,' simply because, the rain being
unaccompanied with high wind, one was enabled to hold up an umbrella
without having it turned inside out. When it ceased dripping for an
hour at noon, the greengrocer said cheerily, 'Another grand day, mam!'
I assented, though I could not for the life of me remember when the last
one occurred. However, dreary as the weather may be, one cannot be dull
when doing one's morning round of shopping in Pettybaw or Strathdee. I
have only to give you thumb-nail sketches of our favourite tradespeople
to convince you of that fact.

. . . .

We bought our first groceries of Mrs. Robert Phin, of Strathdee, simply
because she is an inimitable conversationalist. She is expansive, too,
about family matters, and tells us certain of her 'mon's' faults which
it would be more seemly to keep in the safe shelter of her own bosom.

Rab takes a wee drappie too much, it appears, and takes it so often that
he has little time to earn an honest penny for his family. This is bad
enough; but the fact that Mrs. Phin has been twice wed before, and that
in each case she innocently chose a ne'er-do-weel for a mate, makes
her a trifle cynical. She told me that she had laid twa husbands in the
kirk-yard near which her little shop stands, and added cheerfully, as
I made some sympathetic response, 'An' I hope it'll no' be lang afore I
box Rab!'

Salemina objects to the shop because it is so disorderly. Soap and
sugar, tea and bloaters, starch and gingham, lead pencils and sausages,
lie side by side cosily. Boxes of pins are kept on top of kegs of
herrings. Tins of coffee are distributed impartially anywhere and
everywhere, and the bacon sometimes reposes in a glass case with
small-wares and findings, out of the reach of Alexander's dogs.

Alexander is one of a brood, or perhaps I should say three broods, of
children which wander among the barrels and boxes and hams and winceys
seeking what they may devour,--a handful of sugar, a prune, or a
sweetie.

We often see the bairns at