I replied that I did; and added, that it was a very respectable part of the town, and hoped his friends were happy.

"Ou, deed are they, for ony thing I saw," said Matthew, "an' weel to live. Tammas is in a gude way o' doin', an' has na forgotten his juggery pawkery tricks yet wi' the magic lantern, as he ca's't. He gangs i' the e'enin's to some grand college-the schule o' airts, I think, where he gets a power o' insight, an' he says, the day may came when he'll be as grand as the walthiest professor amang them. It may sae happen-I'm sure I could na say. But here comes the boat, an' I expect a parcel frae him wi' her; sae we had better muve down a bit farther."

Whether Matthew received his parcel I know not-we parted like old friends, and I stept into the boat.

A few years afterwards I visited Edinburgh, with the intention of spending a few days with an old friend attached to the law. As I could only enjoy my friend's society in the evenings, time occasionally hung heavy on my hands. During one of my morning attacks of ennui I formed the resolution of visiting my old acquaintance Phemie, though where to find her I knew not. In a state of unusual excitement, I sallied forth, and soon found myself at Stockbridge; but all my inquiries at grocers' and bakers' shops, those most likely sources of information, was unavailing, and I was compelled to abandon the pursuit in despair; and again became the victim of idleness.

My friend perceived my uneasiness, and endeavoured to relieve it. He informed me in the morning that succeeded my goosechase, that he was about to take a precognition of an important witness in a case of illegal marriage; and that, if I chose, I might accompany him. I willingly assented, for the thing was new to me, and promised amusement, if nothing better. This witness resided in the Canongate, and was by profession a spirit dealer.

Nothing remarkable occurred by the way; if seeing a poor wretch in the Calton Police Office, who had thrown himself that morning over the North Bridge, be excepted. He was fearfully mangled, and lay there for general inspection, till he should be recognised by his friends, and carried away for interment. We at last arrived at the house specified in the address. It bore no resemblance to a shop, nor could we perceive any indications outside that it was inhabited. My friend, however, had no hesitation in entering, as he was certain it answered to the direction with which he had been furnished.

Such an appearance of wretchedness as the interior presented I never beheld. The hovel was dingy and squalid; furniture there was none, and we saw no inmate save one little girl, of perhaps

thirteen or fourteen years of age, who sat cowering over the embers of a dying fire. On being asked if her father was at home, the young partner of misery answered "No" in a voice that seemed to shake with dread, and with a sudden glance at the interrogator as if she suspected no good from the visit.

"Then can you not tell us, my good girl, where he is?"

The child was silent; but an answer from another person issued from a dark recess which we had scarcely observed: "there's naebody here can tell whare he is; but I dread he's nae gude gate." From her mode of utterance it seemed too evident that the speaker was in a state of intoxication; and this was confirmed by the manner in which she immediately afterwards scolded and punished an infant that shared her straw couch for uttering some feeble cries and moans.

My friend endeavoured to explain to her the occasion and object of his visit, but he was interrupted. "If he signed ony sic a paper, he was an idiot to do sae: I never saw ony gude come o' his meddlin' wi' things he had naething to do wi' yet. It's been the cause o' a' my sorrow, the ruin o' himsel' an' his family. Little thought I when I first saw him, an' heard him speak aboot his learning, that it was to come to this. But I've been strugglin' wi’ death for a week, an' it 'll sune be ower noo, an' I'll cease to lament that for the grandeur o' Edinbro' I left the happy, happy house o' my auld father in Glassy-howe Glen."

The words thrilled through me like electricity—“ Phemie Lyel!" I involuntarily exclaimed, " can this be Phemie Lyel? And yet why did I not at once in that child's face recognise the image of its mother in those days when "--but as I was surveying the countenance of the astonished girl, scarcely aware of what I was doing, sobs and hysterical bursts were heard from the straw pallet. Phemie -for I cannot alter her name-had recognised me; and all the tender recollections of the Glen had come over her brain, and mastered her senses.

In this state of insensibility she remained for a considerable time, and our fears that her exhausted frame would not recover from the shock so suddenly given were at last put to flight by her opening her languid eyes, and gazing upon us with an unmeaning stare. Oh! how changed she was from that happy, sylph-like, being, who filled her native glen with joy! Poor creature! she was all unconscious of the dreadful situation she was in, and seemed utterly unable to comprehend the meaning of the soothing words of comfort which were addressed to her. If reason had not indeed altogether left her, it was plain her memory groped amid dim and confused ideas on which it could not for a moment rest. At length her eye

settled upon me, and apparently with an effort, she kept it fixed on my countenance. I spoke to her-and she called me by my name, and muttered some words in a tone so low that they were quite unintelligible. It was evident from her altered manner that sense was returning; for her eye gradually assumed an expression of greater intelligence, and tears began to fall over her pale and wasted cheeks. She was now able to return brief answers to any inquiries we made, though conversation, from the state of complete exhaustion in which the miserable being lay, was obviously a burden. Perceiving this, we determined to commit her to the care of a surgeon, and leave her to enjoy repose.

When about to leave the hovel in order to put our purpose into execution, we were interrupted by a body of men bearing a load which bore a greater resemblance to a bier than any thing else. They were accompanied by two constables and a number of boys who seemed to have been attracted by curiosity. They immediately entered the room where we were standing, and straightway proceeded in silence to deposit their burden on the floor. One of the party, who wore the garb of a common chairman, in a low and respectful tone, expressed his hope that Mrs Henderson had been apprised of the melancholy accident, and prepared for the present scene. On my replying in the negative, the poor fellow, who had all along kept as much out of sight as possible, seemed struck to the heart with astonishment and grief. He lost no time, however, in remedying his error, for he whispered, "It is her husband-but who will inform her now ?"

By this time Phemie had wonderfully recovered, and her attention was arrested by the strangers who now filled the apartment. After having quietly surveyed them, she said in a feeble, melancholy tone," It's oure late-ye can get naething now-a jail is nae new thing an' nae frichtsome thing to me, but I'll ne'er enter ane again. Oh! take care o' my bairns,-be gude to them--but if the God o' heaven does na protect them when father an' mither leave them, what can I expect frae man ?"-Then extending her hand to me, she said, "But I'll no wrang you by sayin' sae-ye mind o' me when I was young an' happy-ye see me now-ye hae the power, an' I'm sure ye dinna want the heart-oh! save my poor bairns frae an early grave!"

I promised faithfully to attend to her injunctions, and the light of happiness gleamed for a moment over her corpse-like features. "Then I'll die in peace," she said—“ I forgive all-I forgive him -oh, my ruined husband!"-and again she burst into a flood of tears.

When the paroxysm of grief had passed away, she slightly raised

herself on her arm, as if she wished to communicate something farther to me; when unfortunately she caught a glimpse of the covered burden on the floor. The truth seemed to darken over her mind like a shadow; new life animated her frame; she suddenly arose from her pallet, like a spectral shape from the grave; she advanced to the bier-tore the covering from the dead 'man's face-instantly recognised it to be her husband's, and, with a loud and piercing shriek, fell upon his mangled corpse, and expired!

It may easily be conjectured that all present were deeply affected by a scene so horrible. After some consultation, my friend and I pledged ourselves to those present, to see that proper steps were taken for the decent interment of the ill-fated pair, and also for the maintenance of the orphan children, in the meantime-a pledge fully and strictly redeemed.

As we were quitting the house, the chairman who had spoken to me, took me aside, as if he had had somewhat of importance to disclose. His accent at once revealed him to be a highlander, and some dim idea crossed my mind that I had seen him before, though where or when I could not guess. He looked me full in the face, and, addressing me with an air of familiarity, which tended to puzzle me still more, said, "ye'll hae forgotten me noo, sir, deed wull ye. It's lang sin' we met."

I replied that certainly he was not a total stranger to me, but that he was right in his conjecture. "Do you no mind of me puttin' ye on the richt road, when ye tint your gate on the moors, seekin' Matthew Lyel? It's seventeen year sin' syne, come the time. An' do ye no mind o' the ploy we had killin' the ether that my dog kickit up sic a collieshangie wi' amang the heather?"

"I do I remember well-you are Allan M'Gregor, that should have married" but I saw that a jarring chord had been touched, and was silent.

"My name's Allan M'Pherson, sir, no M'Gregor, an' it was just about her that I was wussin to speak to you."

"Well, Allan, here is my address; call to-morrow forenoon, and tell me all."-Allan punctually obeyed, and from him I learned the following particulars.

For some time after Henderson's marriage, it appeared, he sustained his character of a sober, industrious mechanic, and Phemie enjoyed every comfort her heart could desire. Being possessed of strong natural talents, he made a very conspicuous appearance in the Edinburgh School of Arts, in which, as is well known, mechanics and others, for a small fee, are instructed in the elements of mathematical and physical science. This success flattered his vanity, of which he possessed a disproportionate share, and led

him to form and cherish ideas of advancement in society which rendered him thoroughly dissatisfied with his humble station in life, from which he madly hoped, at one mighty bound, to escape. As usually happens with such aspirants, he took the very worst means possible to attain his object. Instead of remaining steadily engaged in his professional labours (for which, at that period, there was ample remuneration) he chose to frequent the tavern, where, seated "the cock of the roost," among other would-be-philosophers, he declaimed on the inequality of rank, and the oppression of those in "pride and place." This gradually and insensibly tended to beget dissipated and idle habits, and these, in their turn, soured his mind more and more to the undignified calling he had embraced. His income, in consequence, was abridged; his family (only two out of seven were alive) was neglected; and he was forced by degrees to retreat from one abode to another, until, as a last resource, he commenced spirit-dealer himself, on a small scale, in the same hovel where I saw him for the last time. Poor Phemie's heart seemed breaking under such an accumulation of disasters and, miserable refuge! she at length was forced to drown her cares in the intoxicating cup: and who shall rashly condemn such conduct in the victims of poverty and sorrow?

When I mentioned the circumstance of Henderson's death, and asked Allan why he had so unadvisedly brought the body to the house, he informed me, that, from what could be gathered, Henderson had that night, when returning from the tavern with some of his acquaintances-all of them intoxicated-in a sudden fit of desperation, thrown himself over the North Bridge; and as he was being conveyed to the Office, was recognised by Allan. It was his intention to convey the mournful tidings himself to Phemie; but when he arrived at the door, and perceived me and my friend in the room, he hastily conjectured that tidings of the dismal event had been communicated to the minister of the parish, and that he was then engaged in fortifying the widow's mind with the consolations of religion. This mistake occasioned the heart-rending scene which has been briefly narrated.

I have only to add that the youngest child died in a few days after its mother; but that her namesake, Phemie, is still alive and happy in the Highlands among her friends. In consequence of the arrival of the grand-daughter, it was impossible longer to conceal from old Matthew the woeful history of his beloved Phemie; and though a "shock of corn fully ripe" (for he numbered four score and five years) it was evident to all that his departure was thereby hastened to that land where "sorrow and sighing are for ever fled away."

D. A.