for the Laird o' Tinlie, and God bless oor Leader!" (Uproariously given, with a "Hip-Hip-Hurrah!" thrice repeated.) The Right Honourable Reginald Bluff bounce, in his own name and in that of his friends, again thanked the Electors "for their Entertainment," and complimented me by declaring that he "never wished a fairer Chairman." On hearing a few suppressed growls at his sarcastic use of the term “Entertainment," and being eager to prevent any fresh explosion, I at once congratulated the Electors of Castlebraes on their first "Free and Independent Meeting on Public Affairs," and hoped that they might "often confer again," to settle all "the still burning affairs of Church and State." But, for the meantime, I declared "this Meeting duly closed." Jean Darumple lived to see several of her dreams. within the range of practical Politics, and some of them actually accomplished or at least beginning to be so. I devoutly hope to see them all on the way to being realized, or made possible of realization by those who are worthy, before I cross the Bourne. But the Right Honourable Reginald Bluffbounce never again came back to Castlebraes. A Woman, God-fashioned, God-filled With Soul-light shot through and through! Where she came-all the Graces distilled Their essences, fresh as dew; When she spake-all the Passions be-stilled, When she prayed-all the Heavens were hushed, To hear her plead for a Soul ; When she wept-all our Hearts fell crushed, And she to the Citadel stole ; While she lived-our Earth-Life shone, Wherever her footsteps trod; When she died-we bewailed her as gone,— But No! She still draws us to God. Tinlie Rhymes. 2 SISTER FANNY. "LA AIRD!" exclaimed Jean Darumple, one evening as I passed down the Village Gate of Castlebraes," that was the happiest day this Pairish ever saw, whan Lord John Scott an' Leddy Hetty cam' tae veesit at the Tinlie." "How so?" I inquired. 'Weel, ye see, Sir," continued Jean, "tae illustrate what I mean:— -Whan ma wark was dune for the day, an' the Shop door could be steekit, I took a bit rin up the Gate, tae see that puir half-wutted wratch, Seedy Nannie, confined o' her third Bairn last week, an' no a faither for yin o' them,-puir silly Foondlin' hersel', an' no a' there; but God's het curse'll licht on them that had nae peety or protection for her, even against hersel'-thae deevils that were far waur to blame nor her! "Weel, as I slippit awa' ben the hut o' a Hoose, nae doot thinkin' within masel' that I was daein' a michty fine kind thing, in condescendin' tae cairry up a pickle tea an' sugar for her, an' a |