"Well I do like Mr. Basil for speaking out so honestly and I think it quite true every word he says," whispered Miss Hilaire to Miss Lawrence.

"Don't you think Mr. Basil says very odd things," said Miss Flaccid to another young lady. "I never met in with a young man so odd or who talks like him, before."

"You are quite right," said Miss Lawrence, with an irony which Miss Flaccid did not appreciate, "Mr. Basil is very different from other young men, certainly as far as my experience goes.

"And wha will yon Maister Basil be,” said the old Highland lady, "wha taks sae muckle on himself. A painter," said the old lady whose ideas immediately reverted to visions of ladders, white lead, and house painting "ye dinna mean to tell me that Mrs. Grainger wud hae askit me to meet wi' a painter." Her Highland blood was somewhat cooled by the explanation of the word; but still she was far from being reconciled to Mr. Basil or his profession.

"A portrait painter fræ America, my certie. He's a camsteary chiel to set up wi' his gab that gate afore folk sæ muckle aulder and wiser. The warld's at a pretty come-to-pass, when a lad educate in the outlandish countries where there's naething but savages and wild beasties is sæ glib on a' subject. I wuss he maunna hæ dethical (deistical) principles, but I'se na like to answer for him wi' his newfangled notions. It canna be expected that ane brought up in the far awa wilderness countries can hae the moral and releegious training o' the youth o' Scotlan'."

"And that's a maist sensible observe o' yours, Mrs. Clishmaclaver," said Mrs. Wearygab. "I rede ye tak tent o' Maister Close wha iver hard him setting up wi' sic idle clashes. Mony, and mony's the evening ye'll no hear him spak word good nor bad, and I ken weel its no in's head nor heart to devise any sic oreeginal and republican principles; but, indeed, there'll be few to compare till him for douce, wise-like behaviour. We aw ken Mrs.

Grainger, he's just a pattern to the rising generation and a credit to the kirk. I wad as soon expect to see the pu'pit wanten Mr. Mucklewhackit as to ken Maister Close absent frae the twa services. Odd, but it does my heart gude to hear him skirlin up the psalm."

Alic Flaccid had in the meantime been endeavouring to make himself agreeable in his usual way by a repetition of ancedotes generally having reference to parties present. He had told a number of stories about Mr. Mucklewhackit and Dr. Dottlewit, some of which, whether founded on fact or imagination, were ludicrous enough. According to him, Mr. Mucklewhackit had on one occasion given a very striking proof of his zeal in the pulpit. One of the congregation, a devout man, wishing to shut out every object which might by any chance withdraw his thoughts from the chapter in the bible which the minister was reading, had covered his eyes with his hands, and presented to an ordinary observer the appearance of being fast asleep, though in reality,

not losing a word. In an unlucky moment for him, the minister's eye fell upon this seemingly careless disciple, and, fired with wrath at what he imagined so deliberate a breach of propriety, he took deliberate aim at the defaulter with the bible which he had been reading, crying out as the missile left his hand with fatal accuracy"Odd mon gin ye winna hear the word of God, I'se mak ye feel it."

Miss Hilaire laughed so long and so loud at this anecdote, that Mrs. Wearygab, as she expressed it, could thole it no longer; and her abrupt rising proved the signal for a general break up, and thus terminated Ernest's first experience of a Free Church converzazione.

CHAPTER XI.

MISS FAIRWEATHER SPENDS HER LAST EVENING AT MRS. BASIL'S-A TETE-A-TETE AND ITS RESULTS.

THE limits of Miss Fairweather's sojourn in Y, began to draw so very near, that Ernest felt if he would speak at all he must speak quickly. Such was the thought which occupied his mind while listening to the bewitching melody of Miss Fairweather's voice one evening she spent at his mother's but a few days before that fixed on for her departure. On this occasion she seemed more lovely, more enchanting, more engaging than ever. Miss Fairweather had evidently perceived his admiration, and seemed willing to heighten it as far as possible on this evening by appearing to the utmost possible advantage. She sang all his favourite songs to-night as if by intuition. What a witch-what an abandon there is about a lovely woman's singing to her lover.