RAB AND HIS FRIENDS.

sun was not up—was Jess and the cart, a
cloud of steam rising from the old mare.
I did not see James; he was already at
the door, and came up the stairs and met
me.

It was less than three hours since he
left, and he must have posted out—who |
knows how ?—to Howgate, full nine miles
off, yoked Jess, and driven her astonished
into town. He had an armful of blankets,
and was streaming with perspiration. He
nodded to me, spread out on the floor two
pairs of clean old blankets, having at their
corners, “ A. G., 1796,” in large letters in
red worsted. These were the initials of
Alison Graeme, and James may have looked
in at her from without—himself unseen,
but not unthought of—when he was “ wat,
wat, and weary,” and after having walked
many a mile over the hills, may have seen
her sitting, while “a’ the lave were sleep-
in’,” and by the firelight working her

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