"I was only so glaid to see you an' Nicie 'at I forgot my mainners." "Then," returned Ginny, quite satisfied, "would you mind telling me what book you were reading ?" "It's a buik o' ballants," answered Donal.

"I'll read ane o' them till ye, gien ye like, mem." "I should like very much," responded Ginny.

"I've read all my own books till I'm tired of them, and I don't like papa's books .-- And, do you know, Donal!"-- Here the child-woman's voice grew solemn sad--"-- I'm very sorry, and I'm frightened to say it; and if you weren't Nicie's brother, I couldn't say it to you;--but I am very tired of the Bible too." "That's a peety, mem," replied Donal.

"I wad hae ye no tell onybody that; for them 'at likes 't no a hair better themsel's, 'ill tak ye for waur nor a haithen for sayin' 't.

Jist gang ye up to my mither, an' tell her a' aboot it.