ives were released from the places of their imprisonment. I have
already twice mentioned the infirm state of my wife's health; and we were
residing at Spittal, for the benefit of the sea air and bathing, and the
Spa Well, (though it had not then gained its present fashionable
popularity,) when a post-chaise drove to the door of our lodgings. An
elderly gentleman stepped off from the dicky beside the driver, and out of
the chaise came a young lady, a gentleman, and two bonny bairns. In a
moment I discovered the elderly gentleman to be my old friend the French
Count. But, oh! how--how shall I tell you the rest! I had hardly looked
upon the face of the younger stranger, when I saw my own features in the
countenance of my long lost Robie! The lady was his wife--the Count's bonny
daughter; and the bairns were their bairns. It is in vain for me to
describe to you the feelings of Agnes; she was at first speechless and
senseless, and then she threw her arms round Robie, and she threw them
round his wife, and she took his bairns on her knee--and, oh! but she was
proud at seeing herself a grandmother! We have all lived together in
happiness from that day to this; and the more I see of Robie's wife, the
more I think she is like an angel; and so thinks his mother. I have only to
inform you that bold Jonathan Barlowman was forced to leave the
country-side shortly after his valiant display of courage, and since then
nobody in Dunse has heard whether he be dead or living and nobody cares.
This is all I have to tell ye respecting the _false alarm_, and I hope ye
are satisfied.

FOOTNOTES:

[A] It is evidently from the beautiful chalk cliff near Ednam House (though
now not a very prominent object) that Kelso derives its name--as is proved
by the ancient spelling.

HOGMANAY;

OR, THE LADY OF BALLOCHGRAY.

The last fifty years of mortal regeneration and improvement have effected
more changes in the old fasts, and feasts, and merrymakings of Scotland,
than twice and twice over that time of any other period since it became a
nation. Every year we see the good old customs dying out, or strangled by
the Protaean imp Fashion, who, in the grand march of improvement of which we
are so proud, in the perking conceit of heirs-apparent of the millennium,
seems to be the only creature that derives benefit from the eternal changes
that, by-and-by, we fear, will turn our heads, and make us look _back_ for
the true period of happiness and w