bours, no information regarding others, but--strange from
Hector Garret's stern lips, and sweet as strange--murmurs of fondness
and devotion: "Sweet Leslie! mine only--mine always!" Scoutings at
weariness, cheery reckonings of their way, his heart beating against
hers, her cheek to his; and it was only when Bridget Kennedy opened
the door, and he asked her whether she had yet a chamber for this
truant, that Leslie was aware how well Hector Garret had performed his
part, and how many guests the hospitable walls of Otter sheltered that
eventful night.

Bridget was solemnly praising heaven, whose arm had been about them, and
restored them both in the flower of their days, to Otter, and to their
bairn.

"We have come back for more than Otter and the bairn, Leslie. Bridget
and all the men of Ayr could not have held her here, my faithful wife
that needs must be my love, she has proved herself so true!"

He was throwing off her drenched cloak, and chafing her cold hands. One
of them was clenched on its contents. He opened the stiffened finger,
and found a lock of hair.

"It was all belonging to you that I had, Hector," she whispered; "I took
it long ago, with your knowledge but without your consent. I would not
look at it, or touch it; I kept it for little Leslie. But you said that
you were mine, and it was something of yours to hold; you were mine, and
it was part of you."

* * * * *

"Better for Scotland that weans greet than bearded men," averred the
Lord of Glammis; but he did not say, better for the men, or better for
those who plight hand and heart with them, that the keen, clear eye melt
not, either with ruth or tenderness. Nay, the plants of household faith
and love, scathed by some lightning flash, pinched by some poverty of
soil, will lift their heads and thrive apace when once they have been
watered with this heavenly rain--and like the tree of the Psalmist
growing by the river, will flourish pleasantly, and bear much goodly
fruit thenceforth, and fade not at all, but instead, be transplanted
into "the land that is far away."

THE OLD YEOMANRY WEEKS.

I.--THE YEOMEN'S ADVENT.--PRIORTON SPRUCES ITSELF UP.

Time changes both defences and amusements. Now we have volunteer reviews
in place of old yeomanry weeks. But it is worth while looking back on
what was so hearty, quaint, humorous, and stirring in times bygone.

Beasts as well as men had their day in the past. The