wondering if she really thinks I shall have the patience to make use of them, but I am resolved never to hurt her feelings again. She says you have done me good; I wish sometimes that I could be always steady and thoughtful-and yet I don't. I think it would be a horrid bore to be always on one's p's and q's. But I am getting melancholy and prosy, so I will say good-bye. Mind you all come, I shall never forgive you if you don't. "Ever yours,

"ESME."

Esmé was not doomed to disappointment. The two families from Baranmore and Glen Ellarich drove over on Christmas Eve, and sat down a merry party of twenty to celebrate Craigmore's birthday, as it happened to be. And though they had not all the adjuncts of an English Christmas-mistletoe, for instance, being unknown-they had their Christmas-boxes, their blazing plum-pudding, and their games of forfeits.

Christmas Day was lovely. They partly drove and partly walked to the English church, where Mrs. Leycester and her husband found it a great privilege to join once more in the prayers of their own service. During the Communion the younger ones walked in the churchyard, where the dead lie peacefully under the shade of spreading lime-trees, surrounded by the hills which open out just there to the south-east to give a glimpse of Arran, while within the little church Mr. Leycester knelt between his wife and eldest son; Norman beside his mother; Craigmore and his wife; and

solitary ones like Colonel Adair, Mr. Randall, and even the light-hearted midshipman joined with the rest in commemorating that Divine Love which, as shown forth in the Saviour's sufferings and death, is the source and spring of all earthly happiness and rejoicing. As Esmé and Edith leant over the little rustic bridge across the stream which enables the wayfarer to reach the church by a path through the fields, the former said,—

"Have you ever seen Helen's grave at Baranmore?" "Oh, yes, I have !" said Edith. "I had often noticed a path that led off from the Hill Walk and I found it brought me to an iron gate padlocked, through which I could see nothing from the thick shrubs that were planted close to the entrance. So one day I asked Norman, and he said, 'Oh, don't you know? Then I'll show

Sunday.""

"Well?" asked Esmé.

you next

"Next Sunday, when we were out for the usual afternoon stroll, he led me up this path, unlocked the gate, and bid me walk straight on. I must confess I was surprised when I found myself in a small burying-ground, beautifully kept, and with a perfect view over the woods and glens and out to sea. There were three graves, his father's, an aunt, who died a long time ago unmarried, and lastly Helen's, which I admired most. It was a white marble tomb, and on it, besides her name and age, the words—

For ever with the Lord."

Not a dead leaf lay upon the turf, but a Virginian creeper and a white rose had been planted near it, and a long

trailing branch of scarlet leaves lay across the top intertwined with a spray of roses in bloom. I thought I had never seen anything so lovely."

"I wonder they did not put a cross, though," observed Esmé; "it seems the most natural thing, doesn't it ?”

"Well, I don't know," returned Edith; "you see it might have been misunderstood by the poor people; and after all, if we have borne the Cross in our hearts during our lives it matters little whether we bear it on our graves! But," looking round her, "these Iona crosses are very pretty-and indeed this whole place looks just like the spot where one would choose to lie; and though it is pleasant for Mrs. Leslie to have her dear ones buried so near that she may visit their graves oftener, don't you think, on the whole, it is nicer to be buried where all the rest of the congregation are laid-close to the House of God? I should like it best."

"Certainly; and so should I," observed Esmé.

CHAPTER XXV.

FAREWELL TO ARGYLE.

B

UT though winter seemed to have forgotten them hitherto, some very bitter weather set in after

the New Year; not so much from the prevalence of frost as from the south-east gales, accompanied by drenching showers of sleet; these winds come laden with cold from sweeping over the German Ocean and the bleak hills of Northumberland. Heavy thunder-storms took place also about this time, being much more frequent now than in summer, and the thunder heard above the roaring of the gale, the lightning glancing from peak to peak, and the heavy hail-showers lashing the furious waves into still greater fury, made up at times an awful scene. The hard weather brought plenty of woodcocks, and in the intervals of calm the boys were often very successful in the covers near the shore.

The fishing season was now over; the boats were all drawn up on the shingle at the cove well above highwater line; their masts taken out and their sails and nets all stowed away. Those who held a croft were busy when

they could getting the ground in order; the season had been a good one, and comparative plenty reigned in these humble dwellings. Four marts, or young beasts, had been bought at the November market by joint subscription among the houses; they were killed and salted down to help out the herrings and potatoes. The clothing materials purchased at the sale had all been made up, and the children had a neat and comfortable look as, in spite of the weather, they made their way over to Sunday School. While for fuel, each cottar had his store of peats neatly stacked against the gable of his house, thatched with heather to keep it dry.

So, till the returning warmth of April would tempt them out to Stornaway, the men were all settled comfortably in their winter quarters, and one or two marriages took place, it being the season when families were all together and there was more leisure to arrange these matters. The old piper was quite making a fortune, it was said, for, to their amusement, the children found out how he was paid for his exertions. At Effie's wedding they noticed after each reel the dancers came up and each man put a penny into the piper's hand, often more, but never less. So in this way the musician would often make a pound or more in the evening.

A letter arrived about this time from Sir Gervase, in answer to one Mr. Leycester had written telling him of their future plans and thanking him for the kindness which had caused them to spend such a pleasant summer. As regarded himself, Sir Gervase had been so pleased with his stay in Russia that he did not intend returning to