The course of the vehicle had for some time lain along the banks of a turbulent river, whose waters, when not brawling over a rocky bed in impetuous velocity, or raging down a narrow gorge in misty spray, were curling calmly in deep pools or cauldrons, the dark surfaces of which were speckled with foam, and occasionally broken by the leap of a yellow trout or a silver salmon.

To an angler the stream would have been captivating in the extreme, but his ardour would have been somewhat damped by the sight of the dense copsewood which overhung the water, and, while it added to the wild beauty of the scenery, suggested the idea of fishing under difficulties.

When the coach reached the narrowest part of the pass, the driver pulled up, and intimated that "she would be obleeged if the leddies and gentlemen would get down and walk up the brae."

Hereupon there descended from the top of the vehicle a short, stout, elderly gentleman, in a Glengary bonnet, green tartan shooting-coat, and shepherd's-plaid vest and pantaloons; two active youths, of the ages of seventeen and fifteen respectively, in precisely similar costume; a manservant in pepper and salt, and a little thin timid boy in blue, a sort of confidential page without the buttons. All of them wore drab gaiters and shoes of the thickest conceivable description. From the inside of the coach there issued a delicate elderly lady, who leaned, in a helpless manner, on the arm of a young, plain, but extremely fresh and sweetlooking girl of about sixteen, whom the elder lady called Lucy, and who was so much engrosssd with her mother, that some time elapsed before she could attend to the fervent remarks made by her father and brothers in regard to the scenery. There also came forth from the interior of the coach a large, red-faced angry woman, who dragged after her a little girl of about eight, who might be described as a modest sunbeam, and a little boy of about five, who resembled nothing short of an imp incarnate. When they were all out, the entire family and household of Mr. Sudberry stood in the centre of that lovely Highland pass, and the coach, which was a special one hired for the occasion, drove slowly up the ascent.

What the various members of the family said in the extravagance of their excited feelings on this occasion we do not intend to reveal. It has been said that the day was doubtful: in the south the sky was red with the refulgent beams of the setting sun, which gleamed on the mountain peaks and glowed on the purple heather. Towards the north dark leaden clouds obscured the heavens, and presaged stormy weather. A few large drops began to fall as they reached the crest of the road, and opened up a view of the inclosed valley or amphitheatre which lay beyond, with a winding river, a dark overshadowed loch, and a noble

background of hills. In the far distance a white house was seen embedded in the blue mountains.

“Yonder's ta hoose,” said the driver, as the party overtook the coach, and resumed their places the males on the top and the females inside. "Oh, my dear! look! look!" cried Mr. Sudberry, leaning over the side of the coach; "there is our house-the white house-our Highland home!"

At this moment a growl of distant thunder was heard. followed by a scream from Mrs. Sudberry, and a cry of— "You'd better send Jacky inside, my dear."

It was

"Ah, he may as well remain where he is," replied Mr. Sudberry, whose imperfect hearing led him to suppose that his spouse had said, "Jacky's inside, my dear!" whereas the real truth was that the boy was neither out nor inside.

Master Jacky, be it known, had a remarkably strong will of his own. During the journey he preferred an outside seat in all weathers. By dint of much coaxing, his mother had induced him to get in beside her for one stage; but he had made himself so insufferably disagreeable, that the good lady was thereafter much more disposed to let him have his own way. When the coach stopped, as we have described, Jacky got out, and roundly asserted that he would never get in again. When the attention of the party was occupied with the gorgeous scenery at the extremity of the pass, Jacky, under a sudden impulse of wickedness, crept stealthily into the copse that lined the road, intending to give his parents a fright. In less than five minutes these parents were galloping away at the rate of ten miles an hour, each happy in the belief that the sweet boy was with the other.

Somewhat surprised at the prolonged and death-like silence that reigned around him, Jacky returned to the road, where he actually gasped with horror on finding himself the solitary tenant of an apparently uninhabited wilderness. Sitting down on a stone, he shut his eyes, opened wide his mouth, and roared vehemently.

At the end of about five minutes he ventured to re-open his eyes. His face instantly assumed an expression of abject terror, and the roar was intensified into a piercing shriek when he beheld a fierce little black cow staring at him within a yard of his face!

A drove of shaggy Highland cattle had come suddenly round a turn in the pass while Jacky's eyes had been shut. They now filed slowly and steadily past the transfixed boy, as if they were a regiment and he a reviewing general. Each animal as it came up stopped, stared for a few seconds, and passed slowly on with its head down, as if saddened by the

sight of such a melancholy spectacle. There were upwards of a hundred animals in the drove; the prolonged and maddening agony which Jacky endured may therefore be conceived but cannot be described.

Last of all came the drover, a kilted, plaided, and bonneted Highlander, quite as shaggy as the roughest of his cattle, and rather fiercer in aspect. He was not so in reality however, for, on coming to the place where the poor boy sat, he stopped and stared as his predecessors had done.

"Fat is she doin' there?" said he.

Jacky paused, and gazed for one moment in mute surprise, then resumed his roar with shut eyes and with tenfold vigour.

As it was evident that any farther attempt at conversation must prove fruitless, the drover took Jacky in his arms, carried him to the extremity of the pass, set him down, and, pointing to the white house in the blue distance, said,

"Yonder's ta hoose; let her see how she can rin.”

Jacky fixed his eyes on the house with the stare of one who regarded it as his last and only refuge, and ran as he had never done before, roaring while he ran.

"She's a clever callant," observed the drover with a grim smile, as he turned to follow his cattle.

Meanwhile the Sudberry family reached the white house in the midst of increasing rain and mists and muttering thunder. Of course Jacky's absence was at once discovered. Of course the females screamed and the males shouted, while they turned the mail-coach entirely inside out in a vain search for the lost one. The din was increased by nine shepherd dogs, who rushed down the mountain-side, barking furiously with delight (probably) and with excitement (certainly) at the unwonted sight of so many strangers in that remote glen. Presently the coach was turned round, and the distracted father galloped back towards the pass. Of course he almost ran over his youngest son in less than five minutes! Five minutes more placed the recovered child in its mother's Then followed a scene of kissing, crying, laughing, barking, and excitement, which is utterly indescribable, accompanied by thunder, lightning, and rain, in the midst of which tempestuous mental and elemental commotion, the Sudberry family took possession of their Highland home.

arms.

(To be continued.)

CHRISTMAS-EVE IN THE SNOW.

BY THOMAS MILLER.

THERE

THERE had been a heavy fall of snow, and the old carrier started later than usual; but then, as he said, "the snow is as good as moonlight to travel by, for it makes the country roads as white and light, and there's not much fear of a body losing his way." It was an extra journey, made purposely, because the next day was Christmas; and he had been compelled to leave many packages behind on market-day, so heavy was his last load. "I shall be sure to come again the day before Christmas, if God spares me," he said to the shopkeepers on market-day, when they wanted him to carry more goods than his cart would hold, or his two horses could well draw along a heavy road; for he only made a journey once a week to the little market town, where he put up at the sign of the Old Red Lion, as his father and grandfather had done before him, for they had been a family of carriers for many generations.

What packages of currants and raisins, candied peel, almonds, moist and loaf sugar, and spices, were packed into that old tilted cart, all for Christmas, on the previous market-day! "You see, it would not do to leave these behind on any account," said the old carrier to those who wanted him to load with other things, "for there's the Christmas cakes to make and bake, and the things to be got ready for the puddings; and a pretty to do there would be in the village and all the farmhouses about the neighbourhood amongst the young ones, were I to leave these behind until Christmas-eve. Why, there would be no cakes to their ale and elderberry wine, and what would Christmas-eve be without these things, I should like to know? Why, it would be no Christmas-eve at all.”

So the heavy packages of salt and saltpetre to cure the pigs were left behind for boxes of candles and bottles of oil, the new pots and pans that were wanted for boiling the puddings, tubs and pails, and even bonnets and dresses-for what did not the old carrier carry?

"A heavy load, John," said George Greenwood, coming up with a smile on his handsome face, as the old man was buckling his traces ready to start. "I've come to ride with you as far as Bilberrymoor Lane-end, if you've no objection and have room for me, for I promised to be home on Christmas-eve."

"I'd make room for thee, George, if I had to leave a hundredweight or two of goods behind, if it were only to show the respect I have for thy father," replied the old man. "But I'm very much afraid thou'lt find it a heavy drag along Moor-lane and over the moor, for I hear there has been a much heavier downfall among the hills than we have had in the low roads, though the snow lies pretty deepish, for all that, in many of our parts."

"Dash and I will work our way through it, never fear-won't we, Dash!" who answered with a cheerful bow-wow-wow, as if he said in his way, "I should think we shall; for I know they've been pigkilling for Christmas, and that I shall come in for a tightener or two.' "I should have set off this morning after breakfast and walked it," continued George, "only sister Anne moved into their new house yesterday, and so I have been helping to get things a bit to-rights for Christmas. I shall be home in time for the elderberry wine and cake if I walk pretty brisk. You'll be at the Lane-end in about

four hours?"

"Can't say to an hour, Georgy, with a heavy load and heavy roads," answered old John, "but somewhere thereabout, I hope, for thy sake. I wish from my heart thou hadn't come, my lad; or, now thou hast come, would go all the way home with me. That moor's a nasty place after a heavy fall of snow, when the roads are drifted up, and you can't see your way a bit about anywhere at all.”

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'Many thanks for your kindness, John, for you always were very kind to me," replied George, his tone of voice telling that the words he uttered expressed the feelings of his heart; "but I know every gate and hovel, tree and hedge, along the way, and have walked it often after dark; and you know how light the snow makes the country for miles around. Why, I've seen the wolds from the moor when there has been no moon, and the snow has covered the ground. I don't see how I can go wrong, unless I go out of my way purposely; and Dash is a good guide."

"I know every inch of the ground as well as thyself, and maybe a good deal better," replied the carrier; "for my old dame lived servant with thy grandfather before I married, as thy father well knows; for many a bit of game did he make of me, when he was a young lad, because I came such a long way a-courting my sweetheart. Hey, Georgy that's forty long years ago, my lad!" and the old man stood with the thong he was passing through the buckle in his hand, motionless and silent for a few moments, as if, through his "inward eye," he was looking back on those bygone years, when, in the