If the hale hypothec were to fa', I think, laddie, I would dee! Excuse a daft wife that loves ye, and that kenned your mither.

And for His name's sake keep yersel' frae inordinate desires; haud your heart in baith your hands, carry it canny and laigh; dinna send it up like a hairn's kite into the collieshangic o' the wunds! Mind, Maister Erchie dear, that this life's a' disappointment, and a mouthfu' o' mools is the appointed end." "Ay, but Kirstie, my woman, you're asking me ower much at last," said Archie, profoundly moved, and lapsing into the broad Scots.

"Ye're asking what nae man can grant ye, what only the Lord of heaven can grant ye if He see fit.

Ay! And can even He! I can promise ye what I shall do, and you can depend on that.

But how I shall feel--my woman, that is long past thinking of!" They were both standing by now opposite each other.