sea monsters have been united. The sailors and fishermen are all blue
cloth and wash-leather gloves."

_Miss V._ "He! he!"

_Tal._ "The fishwives unite the colors of the rainbow--"

_Lady Bar._ "(And we all know how hideous they are)--to vulgar, blooming
cheeks, staring white teeth, and sky-blue eyes."

_Mrs. V._ "How satirical you are, especially you, Lady Barbara."

Here Lord Ipsden, after a word to Lady Barbara, the answer to which did
not appear to be favorable, rose, gave a little yawn, looked steadily at
his companions without seeing them, and departed without seeming aware
that he was leaving anybody behind him.

_Hither._ "Let us go somewhere where we can quiz the natives without
being too near them."

_Lady Bar._ "I am tired of this unbroken solitude, I must go and think
to the sea," added she, in a mock soliloquy; and out she glided with the
same unconscious air as his lordship had worn.

The others moved off slowly together.

"Mamma," said Miss Vere, "I can't understand half Barbara Sinclair
says."

"It is not necessary, my love," replied mamma; "she is rather eccentric,
and I fear she is spoiling Lord Ipsden."

"Poor Lord Ipsden," murmured the lovely Vere, "he used to be so nice,
and do like everybody else. Mamma, I shall bring some work the next
time."

"Do, my love."

PICNIC NO. 2.

In a house, two hundred yards from this scene, a merry dance, succeeding
a merry song, had ended, and they were in the midst of an interesting
story; Christie Johnstone was the narrator. She had found the tale in
one of the viscount's books--it had made a great impression on her.

The rest were listening intently. In a room which had lately been all
noise, not a sound was now to be heard but the narrator's voice.

"Aweel, lasses, here are the three wee kists set, the lads are to
chuse--the ane that chuses reicht is to get Porsha, an' the lave to
get the bag, and dee baitchelars--Flucker Johnstone, you that's sae
clever--are ye for gowd, or siller, or leed?"

_1st Fishwife._ "Gowd for me!"

_2d ditto._ "The white siller's my taste."

_Flucker._ "Na! there's aye some deevelish trick in thir lassie's
stories. I shall ha to, till the ither lads hae chused; the mair part
will put themsels oot, ane will hit it off reicht maybe, then I shall
gie him a hidin' an' carry off the lass. You-hoo!"

_Jean Carnie._ "That's you, Flucker."

_Christie Johnstone._ "And div ye really think we are gawn to let you
see a