time, something like a summer afternoon, keeping little George down and quiet, watching that bull grazing a ridge-breadth or two in the field on the opposite side, while the brute was continually keeping an upturned eye to my point of observation, as if cunningly sensible that we were there, and on my least stir in attempt to creep away he would gove up his head and prick his ears in the startling act to pursue me, when down I would again cower, squat in the ditch, and press the boy in to me to hide the closer. I can at will conjure up the particular eye and horns of that fever-bull to this hour; he was of the Highland breed, of a reddish-black colour.

On coming out of this fever entirely free of cold or uneasiness, for the first few days I felt the most pleasant sensations over my whole body that I have ever experienced in life, and a soft kind of holy calm of soul was produced, filling me with love, and hope, and happiness, approaching to bliss itself. I would give all the kingdoms of a thousand planets to inherit such bodily and mental feelings for ever; yet I was then, and hitherto had been from earliest youth, rather religiously disposed upon the whole, could have grasped all animated nature in the arms of benevolence, had love even to a toad, because I saw it had a sense to fear and to feel, and to enjoy in quiet, and was the handiwork of God, the author of myself, and all of great or small, even the stars in space, which I had long apprehended and now clearly perceived to be worlds. In regard to this class of feelings I have stood much the same ever since, except that from the tug, tear, and wear-out amidst the selfishness of life, one is apt to lose

much of respect and native veneration for man generally, and I feel that a part also of the enthusiasm which then gave a higher colour to life has evanished along with some of the keener sympathies of youthful existence. But what need I say, since upon closer examination I perceive that it is only the cunning selfishness of men that I hate, being in the main as socially disposed as ever, and now I love many new faces as well as the old ones, my grandchildren also as well as, or perhaps better than, I even loved my own, their fathers and mothers; and my poor, fading, half-blind Nan is as dear to me this day as when we first nestled in together. In proportion as we dislike the evil dispositions of men, do we venerate the good; and I hope that the love of God and His creatures will abide with me, as an influencing spiritual grace, to the end; it gives such comfortable feelings, and is nearly all that appears now left me amidst the approaching cold privations of advanced life and fading energies.

CHAPTER XXIV.

N process of recovering from this illness, it was some months before I gathered strength sufficient for my usual employment; but, secured from actual present want, I took the matter as easy as possible, finding pleasure in conscious existence and the dream of future prospects. I had also some visiting companions, in whose company I delighted, with a true taste of the pleasure of their temperate sociality. Besides, the prospects of the past, the present, and the future were all seemingly on the dawn of opening up before me.

The past took the form of an ideal prospect as well as the rest, the pleasure of which seemed to lie in books, which I determined to get hold of by every means in my power. The present lay in the enjoyment of social intercourse with my favourite companions, amongst whom, from his poetical tastes, I very naturally preferred old Andrew Scott, and also James M'Donald as much from his partiality for me as for his very amusing powers of perception and description of living character. James was very little older than myself. We enjoyed each other's most perfect confidence; and he could note and

relate with the most graphic minuteness what came under his observation. Hence, we regarded each other with more than common friendship. My future prospects were made up of rainbow hopes of I knew not what, of which, however, a book I then got hold of seemed to give me an astonishing presentiment. This was Ferguson's "Young Ladies' and Gentlemen's Astronomy," on which I sported my mind, and in which in delighted imagination I flew through the heavens. I have since wondered that in then opening up these paths through the milky way I should have sailed in imagination out beyond the rules there laid down nearly as far as Mr. Nichol has since done by the combination of that faculty of the mind and the aid of the best telescopic observation..

I then supposed systems beyond systems in ever rising infinitude of variety, with new creations going on daily and progressively, and which I believed the human mind qualified to comprehend, in idea at least, from its felt wonderful powers of comprehension, expansion, and condensation; its elasticity, and faculty of combination; its individuality and divisabilityin fact, a spark of divinity in some grand link of connection with the eternal mind. I supposed that if we were not bound down to grapple with each other about silly pride and interest, as well as the real or supposed means of obtaining life's comforts, daily bread, and so on (and this not so much from the circumstance of God's dispensations in universal providence, as from mismanagement amongst ourselves, in our wranglings about principles of civil government), we might severally find plenty of time and opportunity to inquire and expatiate freely through

out our generations. We might thus also arrive at much more useful and pleasant knowledge than is generally conceived to lie within the verge of our human speculation. Be this as it may, we had in the meantime, in that village, a medley variety of character, from the statedly cautious, church-plodding son of wisdom, to the "born idiot," as our then worthy priest (Mr. Balfour) emphatically designated one of our most knowing, money-scraping, bargainmaking, corn and cattle-dealing farmers, who was at the same time generally regarded as more worldlywise than the current run of his neighbours. That village was then reckoned rather remarkable for the number of deranged or silly characters-somewhat eccentric, from something that appeared like a general individuality in their manners and way of life; and the remark was current about St. Boswell's here that Bowden was a hundred years behind the other surrounding villages. I used to combat this foolish assertion as made in the vanity of ignorance, and could always name about a dozen of men in Bowden whom I would venture to match against any dozen from any neighbouring village in point of general knowledge or other ability, as well as respectability of general character. And, besides that, Bowden could produce a greater number of what might be accounted good scholars than perhaps any Border village of equal population. Indeed, Bowden was rather remarkable for this, having for some time previously, as well as then and since, enjoyed the very particular blessing of a succession of very successful teachers in the office of the parish schoolmaster, and this I have always considered as a far