Yet she could not go in; she felt that something unusual had happened, and stood waiting for whatever was coming.

It was a poor, little, half-drowned baby.
Andrew took it from under his plaid, and laid it in her arms, saying, "I maun go now and look after the mither.

I'll need to yoke the cart for her; she's past walking, and I'm sair feared she's past living; but you'll save the bit bairn, Mysie, nae doot; for God disna smite aften wi' baith hands." "Where is she, Andrew ?" "'Mang the Druids' stanes, Mysie, and that's an ill place for a Christian woman to die.

God forbid it!" he muttered, as he lit a lantern and went rapidly to the stable; "an evil place! under the vera altar-stane o' Satan.

God stay the parting soul till it can hear a word o' his great mercy!" With such a motive to prompt him, Andrew was not long in reaching the ruins of the old Druidical temple.