"Cost price, of course. How much, out of
the original four pounds, fourteen, and four-
pence-worth, had you disposed of?"

"I had cleared one pound three," said the
boy, "and not parted with a twelfth part of
the stock; but they found the money in my
stocking sole—I'll never wear stockings again,
for they're just a waste—and took it all, sir.
I hae na a farthing in the world."

"Poor lad!" said Charles Harburn. "Here's
all your life perhaps broken in your hand,
and nobody to help you. But cheer up,
man. I'm not very rich; but I'm very happy
just now,—and here, we'll share what I've
got." So saying, he drew out a purse, and
finding there were nine golden guineas in it,
he gave four to the boy, and said, "I told
you we would share it; but you see it's not
very easy, as here are nine Georges, and
neither of us has any change."

"We could toss may be for the half one,"
said Douglas Brand; but so low, that the
words escaped the ear of his benefactor, and
a blush came to his own cheek when he
thought what an ungrateful proposition it
was. "Oh, what can I do for you, sir?" he
said; "you've restored me to all my hopes.
My gratitude shall know no end, and I'll
think on ye and pray for ye till I die."

"Make a good use of your luck, my little
friend," said Harburn, "and that is all the
thanks I require. But, by the by, you said
you would pray for me. Now you are a very
innocent lad; you know your Bible, and
you're grateful to the good minister who
stood your friend; bow down on your knees
Douglas Brand, up with your hands, my wee
laddie, and pray that I may be Dumbarton
for seven years if required, and finally be
joined to Ailsa Craig."

"It's something like asking a miracle," said
the boy; "but if the heart's wishes have any
power, my petition will be heard, and many
more that I will not cease to make for blessings
on you and yours."

I am very happy, that you and I did
not see the scene that then occurred,—
Charles sitting on the back of his now quiet
horse, with his hat in his hand, and his head
bent reverently down, and Douglas Brand on
his knees in the public road, with closed eyes
and clasped hands, uttering prayers about
Dumbarton and Ailsa Craig, which he did not
quite understand, but which rose earnestly
and sincerely from a thankful heart, because
he believed, in some way or other, these
precipitous elevations were connected with the
happiness of his friend. We might have been
tempted to see something laughable in the
attitudes of the two; but perhaps, in the
apprehension of a Higher Intelligence, there
might have been something not quite worthy
of our contemptuous smiles in the sincerity
and fervent trust of the young man of twenty-
one and the pedlar boy. Who knows? A
slight shake of the rein, and a merry "Farewell!
and success attend you," set Harburn
forward on his homeward way at a pace
that soon took him out of sight of Douglas
Brand.

"I'll write down on the tables o' my heart,"
said the youth, "the name o' the kind
gentleman,—but wae's me, I never asked his
name. Oh, how I wish I had asked who he
was!—but, at any rate, I will never forget
Dumbarton and Ailsa Craig." And he took
a secret pocket in his jacket a tattered
old pocket-book that had escaped the notice
of his assailants, and wrote down the names
of these two well-known rocks, determining
to take steps, as soon as he was able, to
unravel the mystery that connected them
with his generous friend.

After a rapid career of six or seven miles,
the black horse turned of its own accord up
a narrow side-road, that lay in a very narrow
valley between two hills. The country grew
wilder as he continued his course along the
winding banks of a branching stream; hedges
soon ceased; enclosures disappeared from
fields; huge hills rose up on either side, with
no attempt at cultivation destroying the
primitive desolation of their surface,—but
suddenly, at an opening of the valley, a little
white gate pointed out a path leading round
a promontory of the mountain on the left,
and at the end of a small level space, forming
a peninsula of very rich land, surrounded on
three sides by a sinuosity of the burn, was
seen a low white-washed mansion, with
smooth green turf on the little lawn in front,
and supported on one side by a large orchard,
at this moment filled with the richest fruit,
and at the other by an ornamental garden, to
which there was a descent by a few steps
from a room at the west end of the house.
Standing on those steps, as if arrested in the
act of descending into the garden, a lady
waved her hand to the advancing horseman,
who leaped lightly from his horse, and putting
the reins on his neck, watched him trot
off in a very sedate and business-like manner
to a stable abutting on the orchard, where
a groom was waiting for his arrival. A
minute saw Charles in the garden by the
side of his mother, with his arm round her
waist.

"Before I ask you how you have sped," she
said, "I must tell you the great event has
happened. You are lieutenant in the regiment
we desired, and must leave me in a
week."

A start of gratification at the first part of the
news was checked by the tone of his mother's
voice. It conveyed to him as clearly as if
the idea had been expressed in words, "You
know how desolate I am, and yet you are
delighted to leave me." He was not at all
delighted to leave her. He could have stayed
with her all his life; only it looked such a
shrinking from the duties of his age and
station—such a selfish gratification of his
love of home, if he continued for ever to
reside with his mother, that he had applied