which all these, and many more, appear, and give life and stir to the surroundings of this home at Abbotsford.

You will read that book by Lockhart some day, and you will find in it, that Tom Purdy was an old out-of-door servant of Scott, who looked after the plantation and the dogs, and always accompanied the master upon his hunting frolics and his mountain strolls. Laidlaw did service in a more important way in-doors, reading and writing for the master of the house.

Maida was a noble stag-hound, whom Scott loved almost as much as any creature about him, and of whom he has left a charming portrait in old Bevis, whose acquaintance you will make whenever you come to read the tale of Woodstock. As to Sibyl Gray, that was the name of the stout nag which carried Scott safely through fords and fens.

rec"ol-lec'tions, things recalled to

mind.

gen"er-a'tion, the men and women

living at a given time.

DONALD G. MITCHELL (Abridged).

pil'grim-age, a journey.
trudged, walked wearily.

portrait, a picture or description
of a person.

DONALD G. MITCHELL (1822- ) has written some delightful novels and essays under the pen-name of Ik Marvel. Mr. Mitchell gives a gently humorous turn to much of his writing, and besides being humorous, he knows how to express delicate sentiment in graceful language. He has always been a lover of nature, and for many years has lived on his farm, Edgewood, near New Haven, Conn. "About Old Storytellers," is the name of the book from which "Scott and His Home" is taken. The most famous of all Mr. Mitchell's books is his novel, "The Reveries of a Bachelor," but his nature studies of life at Edgewood are quite as fine in their way. This selection is reproduced by courtesy of Charles Scribner's Sons.

THE SINGING LEAVES

A Ballad

I

"What fairings will ye that I bring?" Said the King to his daughters three;

"For I to Vanity Fair am boun; Now say what shall it be?"

Then up and spake the eldest daughter,
That lady tall and grand:

66

"O bring me pearls and diamonds great, And gold rings for my hand."

Thereafter spake the second daughter,
That was both white and red:
"For me bring silks that will stand alone,
And a gold comb for my head."

Then came the turn of the least daughter That was whiter than thistle-down, And among the gold of her blithesome hair Dim shone the golden crown.

“There came a bird this morning

And sang 'neath my bower-eaves,

Till I dreamed, as his music made me,

'Ask thou for the singing leaves.” ”

Then the brow of the King swelled crimson With a flush of angry scorn:

"Well have ye spoken, my two eldest, And chosen as ye were born;

"But she, like a thing of peasant race,

That is happy binding the sheaves; Then he saw her dead mother in her face, And said, "Thou shalt have thy leaves."

II

He mounted and rode three days and nights Till he came to Vanity Fair,

And 'twas easy to buy the gems and the silk, But no singing leaves were there.

"Oh, where shall I find a little foot-page
That would win both hose and shoon,
And will bring to me the singing leaves
If they grow under the moon?"

Then lightly turned him Walter the page,
By the stirrup as he ran:
"Now pledge ye me the truesome word
Of a king and gentleman,

"That you will give me the first, first thing
You meet at the castle gate,

And the princess shall get the singing leaves,
Or mine be a traitor's fate."

The King's head dropped upon his breast
A moment, as it might be;

"Twill be my dog," he thought, and said,
"My faith I plight to thee."

Then Walter took from next his heart
A packet small and thin,

"Now give you this to the Princess Anne,
The singing leaves are therein."

III

As the King rode in at his castle gate,
A maiden to meet him ran,

And "Welcome, father!" she laughed and cried
Together, the Princess Anne.

“Lo, here the singing leaves,” quoth he, "And woe, but they cost me dear!" She took the packet, and the smile

Deepened down beneath the tear.

It deepened down till it reached her heart,
And then gushed up again,

And lighted her tears as the sudden sun
Transfigures the summer rain.

And the first leaf, when it was opened,
Sang: "I am Walter the page,
And the songs I sing 'neath thy window
Are my only heritage."

And the second leaf sang: “But in the land

That is neither on earth or sea,

My lute and I are lords of more

Than thrice this kingdom's fee."

And the third leaf sang: "Be mine! be mine!
And ever it sang, “Be mine!”

Then sweeter it sang and ever sweeter,
And said, "I am thine, thine, thine."

At the first leaf she grew pale enough,
At the second she turned aside,
At the third, 'twas as if a lily flushed
With a rose's red heart's tide.

"Good counsel gave the bird," said she, “I have my hope thrice o'er,