we are by the Creator o' us a', ye'll save as mony Sowls frae Hell, that gate, an' cheer as mony on tae Heeven-ay, far mair!-than by granein' an' gruntin' an' drawin' a lang face an' tryin' to mak ither fowks as meeserable as yersel'. A clean Conscience, then, say I, an' a cheery Face, an' a contented Mind, tae us a', an' let the Warld wag as it wull!" (Cheering, renewed again and again.)

Bauldy, who, under this stirring oration, and the excitement aroused by the Miller's unwonted eloquence, had fairly recovered from his disappointment about the Haggis, leapt up and cried,—“Three cheers for the Miller, and three mair for the Leddy." These he led off so lustily, and with such a pair of lungs, that Moudie Jamie declared they "wad hae blawn his ain Smiddy Fire, better than ony pair of bellows ever bocht at The Toon."

"Neebours an' Freens," replied the Miller, "Oor herty thanks tae ye, yin an' a'. The Leddy and Me are gey an' prood tae hae the honour o' yer company an' yer freenship."

After a decent silence, he looked up, and resumed, with a very composed yet perfectly natural manner: -"An' noo, I think, ye'll a' agree that it wad be a Christianly an' a comely thing, gif oor auld Acquentance, Angell James, wad just read tae us twa-three gude words, an' pit up a bit petition for us a', afore we pairt? Wife, rax doon The Book, an' I'll set an' trim the Caunle."

Without apology and without pretentiousness, just as if it were as natural to him as eating when hungry, the Old Pilgrim began to adjust his Specs, laid open the Big Family Bible, and reverently said:

"Let us compose oor minds and herts tae worship God."

Then he continued :-" But, mibbe, Freens and Neebours, ye wad like this nicht tae hear a verse or twa, frae The Auld Book, aboot the Hairst an' the Cornfields?" So, turning to pages with which his eye was familiar, he read, first of all, about "the Valleys clothed with corn," and how the little Hills on every side were "glad,” and how they "did shout and sing" to their Creator; and his voice had in it the rapture of the lark in June.

Again turning over, he read about some going forth and "sowing in tears," but at last coming back with joy and "bringing home their sheaves"; -and his voice began in a sob, and ended with a Hallelujah.

Next, going on to the New Testament, he remarked, in the same kindly and winsome tones, but all so real :- "We'll mibbe better hear noo the wairnin' o' the Maister Himsel', aboot Harvestin' only for Self." Whereon he began to read with heart-subduing solemnity the story of "the Rich Fool," as told by Jesus, who pulled down his barns to build greater; and his lip quivered when he repeated the awful words, "Thou Fool! This night shall thy Soul be required of thee;"-and his voice had in it the shudder of the Judgment Trump.

But, turning once again, he continued:-" Just anither wee portion to reveal tae us a' the true, and the only, glory o' existence." And then there began to fall on our ears the entrancing words--" Who are these in white robes, and whence came they?" As the answer fell thrilling on us from lips inspired

with faith and with impassioned love to Jesus,-as we saw the Blessed Dead, rising out of their “Great Tribulations," washing their robes and making them white in the Blood of the Lamb,-as we heard of their "hungering no more neither thirsting any more," and beheld them in vision led by the Lamb to the "Living Fountains," and God Himself "wiping away all their tears";—the fragrance of Paradise Restored filled that homely Kitchen, the splendours of Heaven opened before our eyes, and the voice of the reader echoed the Music that is unspeakable and full of glory!

But all, to him, was as natural as to take his frugal evening meal. And so he continued again : -"Afore we kneel tae pray, the Leddy'll lead us in a bonnie Sang, dear tae a' the Pilgrims tae Zion; let us a' join in this finest Hymn for the Family Altar ever written, the Anthem o' the Hearth-Stane

"O God of Bethel, by whose Hand
Thy People still are fed.”

When they had sung it to the close, not without an occasional "tear in the voice," here and there, each turned round in comely silence, and knelt at the Chair whereon he had been sitting. After a solemn and breathless pause, the voice of Angell James rose on the ear, softly and winsomely, pouring out the following petitions, intercessions, and oblations of thanksgiving, as our leader at the Throne of God:

"O leevin' Faither o' a' Mankind, the God an' Faither o' oor Lord Jesus Christ, Thou art oor

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God an' oor Portion for ever and ever. lowly thegither afore Thee, aroon this Faimily Altar ; an' we pray Thee to bless the Miller an' his Leddy an' a' their Bairns, them at Hame an' them far awa'; far awa' frae us, but never far frae Thee, O God o' the Faimilies o' Israel.

"We thank Thee, this nicht, for giftin' Thy Servant, the Miller, wi' a lichtsome hert an' a cheerfu' speerit. It does us a' gude tae ken 'im an' tae meet 'im; especially, some o' us here, upon whom the burden o' life sits heavily, an' sometimes amaist threatens tae crush us; while, as maitter o' fact, every yin o' us has gude cause to be gled, tae rejoice, yea tae rejoice always, whan we think and see. what great things the Lord God hath dune for us, whence joy to us is brocht.

"We praise Thee, O Giver o' a' Gude, for the Hairst, noo theekit an' raipit, safe frae storm an' weet an' waste. Weel ken we, an' brawly it becomes us tae confess, that hooever fermers may plant an' water, the God o' a' the Yirth alane can gie the increase. O Life-givin' Lord, the licht o' Thine ee was i' the sunbeam, whan it shot through the cauld yird an' soucht oot the buried seed, an' smote it in love, an' stirred it, till it pushed up the bonnie Braird in a million spikes o' maist lovely green, ilk yin strugglin' to shoot higher an' higher, nicht an' day, that it micht rise nearer to Thy Sun, the Fountain o' a' life and joy. An' the pearly-drappin' dew, an' the saftly-swaithin' rain, cam' tae us frae thine oot-stretched Haun', shooerin'-fou o' blessings for the sons o' men; till the Braird shot up into fruitfu' stalks, an' ilk stalk tasseled its heid wi'

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gowden corn, that yellowed i' the glowin' Sun, in some thretty, in some saxty, and in some a hunder fauld, each yin an' a' thegither, waving tae the Great Creator's praise, an' thereby movin' us to praise Thee, likewise, O Thou Giver o' a' that's Gude!

"An' noo, Lord God, we bless Thee for this Happy Hairvest Hame. Forgie us, mercifu' Faither, if in tryin' tae please yin anither we hae in onything displeased Thee. Alas, Lord Jesus, that it should be sae; but, as Thou kens, it springs frae oor weakness, na frae oor wull! Veesit a' oor Freens an' Neebours, this nicht, wi' some personal token o' Thy Faitherly care an' savin' grace; an' mak' their herts burn within them on their beds, as they think o' Thy love that passeth knowledge, till they cry, 'O the breadth an' depth an' height!'

Specially, blessed Lord Jesus, do Thou guard as the apple o' Thine ee a' the dear Laddies and sweet Lassocks o' Castlebraes. Constreen them tae yield themsel's tae Thee in the dew o' their youth; an' do Thou shiel' them frae the fiery dairts o' the Wicked Yin. O gie them grace to bridle the wild horses o' passion, an' harness them tae the Cross o' Christ!

"Finally, O Shepherd o' the Lambs, fauld a' the Bairns o' Castlebraes tenderly in Thine Airms o' Love. May they cuddle doon close tae Thy Hert, as tae their Mithers' warm embrace; an' may they learn tae trust God as their Faither, tae follow Jesus as their Saviour, an' tae fear nae Ill in Time or in Eternity. An' whan at length, langer or shorter be it according to Thy Blessed Wull, we reach the end