her crew, which consisted of four broth- small piece of sail set, flitted out of the ers, were drowned. One morning the crew of a boat had all taken their places with the exception of one man, who was late. When he reached the boat he handed his line on board, and looking solemnly at his companions said, "Boys, I dinna ken what t' say 'bout gaun aff this mornin'." "What's the matter, Jemmy?" asked the others somewhat excitedly. "Weel, I met that lout Dod Hay, wi' his limpin' (lame) horse, as I cam doon.” "D'ye say sae, Jemmy? 'Ay, bo', I did, an' I dinna like it." "Ye may weel say that, Jemmy," said the others. There was a silence of a few moments' duration, which the owner of the boat broke by saying, harbor in the gray dawn like dark birds skimming over the surface of the water. As the boat to which the young fisherman belonged was being unmoored, he stepped up to his father, who was the owner and captain of the boat, and said, "Feyther, I met a wumman this mornin'." "What's that, Buswing (the nickname of the young man); ye met a wumman, d' ye say?" "Ay, feyther; I did in the Prince's Opens" (an alley known by that name). "D'ye hear that, men?" the father inquired of the remainder of the crew. "Ay, ay, bo'; she looks dirty enough too, away t' th' narrit" (referring to the weather), answered one of the crew. "Meetin' a wumman's a bad sign, "What d'ye say, boys; shall we try men," the owner of the boat remarked. her?" "Jest as ye like, bo', only I dinna like the looks a' the thing," answered one of the crew. "Nor me naether," said another. "Then I think, boys, we 'd better let her tak' her swagger fur this mornin'," said the owner of the boat. "It's the safest plan," said the others; and mooring the boat they shouldered their lines and returned to their homes. If one of the crew of a boat was unfortunate enough to meet a woman, and did not speak to her, when going to the boat in the morning, no earthly power could by force or bribe induce that boat's crew to proceed to sea that day. The younger fishermen were less superstitious than their elders, and a good story was told of how one young lad, who wanted a holiday to visit a neighboring village, managed to obtain it. It was in winter, and the morning was very cold, with a strong breeze blowing from the northwest. The sea was smooth, however, and the boats made preparations for going out. The young fisherman, while anxious that his boat should not go to sea, was careless as to whether the others went or not, so one by one they were unmoored, and with a 66 Ugh!" came from the crew in chorus. "What's t' be done, men?" inquired the owner. "Let her take her swag," said one. "Better sit at yer fireside an' starve, than gae aff there an' be drooned," said another gloomily. "What's the matter, men?" asked the owner of another boat, coming up at this moment. "Buswing met a wumman, as he cam doon wi' his line this mornin'," replied the father. "Heh! d'ye say sae? Did ye speak t' her, Buswing?" “I did,” answered the youth, “bit she didna answer me back again." "Weel, I met her too, an' there 's na affin fur me this mornin'. What are ye gaun t' do, men?" "Stap ashore," answered Buswing's father. "As Jemmy says, better starve than droon; fur when ye 're starvin' ye ken where ye are. Tak' yer lines, men, an' gae hame." The crews of both boats went home and lost a day's fishing. The morning turned out beautiful; but the fishermen who did not go to sea were confident that if they had the weather would have been stormy. No death had occurred in the village since its foundation but had been "forewarned," so the old women said. On "the night that Widow Ruffel's bairn died," a pig, with its throat cut, had been seen to walk across the kitchen floor and disappear beneath the hearthstone. And the "night that auld Tam Crystal died, a black cat cam doon the chimley an' walked out at the door." When old Jemmy Benney was in his last sickness, a strange man was seen at midnight standing near the door of the house, with a bloody razor in his hand. Next morning Jemmy was dead. "Jack Johnson's dog growled a' night when Tammy Rutherford died," and on the night that the Lapwing was lost, with all hands, a woman with disheveled hair was seen on the beach just before dark, wringing her hands and weeping. VI. NOTED CHARACTERS. characters. Old and feeble they were, but each one had a strongly marked individuality. One (Joe Steele) bore the reputation of having been the greatest liar in the village, and though age had dimmed his eyes it had not impaired his inventive faculty. Standing with one foot in the grave, he could tell a lie at which Munchausen would have shuddered, with as much satisfaction and as earnestly as when he was in the full possession of his strength. Village boys, in giving each other the lie, would say: "That's ane o' Joe Steele's figgers." Another (Jamie Smith) was noted as the laziest man of the village, and nobly he sustained his reputation. Labor he regarded with the greatest aversion. He was too lazy to go to bed, and after he got to bed, too lazy to get up. Nothing but the pangs of hunger could induce him to exert himself to eat, and after eating he wished he would remain satisfied forever. His peculiarity was visible in his dress. Each garment was fastened with only one button. He had no laces in his shoes. "What's the use," said he, "of havin' show laces; if ye fas'n them i' the mornin' ye have t' loos'n them again at night." The only subject in which he appeared to take an interest was that of new inventions. He looked forward to the time when men "wadna need t' have buttons on their claes, and when chairs wi' soft cushions wud be placed at street corners." I HAVE already mentioned the jetty corner. This was a piece of common situated near the river's edge, where a small landing, for the ferryboats which plied between the village and Berwick-on-Tweed, ran out. It was the custom of the old men of the village to meet at this place and indulge in the latest gossip. It was also the debating ground. All disputes that were found impossible of settlement by physical Another, and the most striking charmeans were brought to the jetty corner acter was William Johnson, familiarly and submitted to the patriarchs for set- known as au'd Wull Johnson. He was tlement. Debate often ran high, and it a very old man, nearly ninety but strong was not uncommon to hear one disparag- and vigorous. He was the champion ing the character of another. Although debater of the "outs" of the assembly. it might be called the village parliament, He always differed from everybody, and no order was observed in conducting de- in his own belief he was always right. bate. All the members spoke at once He never formed an opinion until everyand gave their opinions in the same body else had formed his; then, after breath. At such times the by-stander all had delivered themselves, he would could not hope to understand a word of take a position in direct antagonism to what was being spoken. The patriarchs each, and he always triumphed, no matthemselves did not understand each ter how numerous and how strong the other. The debate went on, neverthe- majority. And how he enjoyed his triless. umphs! How he would chuckle and Some of these old men were peculiar mutter to himself, "Beat them again, the d-d fyells." These, with a few others, formed the assembly which daily met at the jetty corner to discuss the topics of the day. Sometimes their subjects took a wide range, embracing political economy, astronomy, grammar, geography, history, cheap breed (bread), bait, and ethics. The debate one day touched on the definition of words"practice "being the word in question. Joe Steele, the liar, defined it as "the habit of doing anything, use, etc.; also a rule in arithmetic." The others, with the exception of Wull Johnson, agreed with Steele. -- "Walker's," replied Joe Steele. "Walker's!" repeated Johnson. Then in the most contemptuous tone imaginable, An' wha the deevil is Walker?" No one could answer the question. "I see, I see," Wull continued. "Another d-d upstart's been writin' a dictionary, an' he doesna ken a bee frae a bull's fut. Walker! ho, ho! an' ye thought t' impose upon me by that upstart Walker! Did ye think me a jackass?" "Weel, Wull," said Joe Steele apologetically, "I didna ken but that Walker cud be trusted." "Weel, man Joe," said Johnson, commiseratingly, "ye 're t' be pitied; I didna think ye wur sae ignorant." And so Wull Johnson triumphed. Wull, true to his name, swore that Johnson's Dictionary was the only standard authority for Spittalers. There came a day, however, when the champion disputant was to be vanquished. Alas that such a day should ever have dawned! An old and much respected woman, long known in the village for her kind and benevolent disposition, went the way of all the living, and her funeral was attended by the assembly in a body. A few of the patriarchs, among them Wull Johnson, stood at the grave and watched the coffin-a plain pine on the lid of which a small metal plate bore the dates of her birth and death and her age-slowly lowered, and the earth placed upon it. On the following day the assembly met early to discuss the probable chances of the deceased reaching heaven. Contrary to his usual custom, Wull Johnson coincided in the opinion of the others that "she was a' right." But shortly after, when the question of her age came up, Wull affirmed that the others had mistaken the figures on the coffinplate. He had carefully scrutinized them, - indeed he attended the funeral for that purpose, and the woman was not so old, by five years, as the others stated. The others had also seen the figures on the coffin-plate, and they were certain that Wull Johnson was wrong. 66 Feegurs! what d' ye ken aboot feegurs! where did ye learn feegurs? ye 're as igorant as a cuddy" (ass). "Never mind, the wumman was seeventy year au'd." Wull Johnson flew into a terrible passion; the other members sided with Steele. As usual Wull himself, unaided and alone, represented the minority, and he braced himself for the contest. From morn till noon they argued, from noon till dewy eve. Wull Johnson would not budge an inch. The assembly did not adjourn for tea, but continued the debate, and midnight found them exhausted, but as far from settlement as At last Joe Steele proposed that the assembly should proceed to the grave-yard, disinter the coffin, examine the dates on the plate, and fill in the grave again. The proposition was favorably received, and, provided with ever. spades, the patriarchs tremblingly took their way to the grave-yard. Stationing a sentinel at the gate, they proceeded to the grave and in a short time the coffinlid was laid bare. A match was lighted and the figures on the plate revealed to the gaze of all. Wull Johnson was wrong! Chuckling with glee the triumphant patriarchs filled up the grave, and when the last shovelful of earth had been thrown upon the mound, Joe Steele, with a smile of triumph, turned to Wull Johnson and in an exulting tone said, "Weel, Wull, what have ye t' say now, eh? Ye've seen the feegurs an' they are jest as we said." "Oh! ye ignorant anes, ye shuckleheeds, yes, I've seen the feegurs, but the feegurs have been changed since I saw them afore!" "What! wha cud change them since yesterday, an' the coffin i' the grave?" "I dinna ken, nor I dinna care, bit they've been changed." A general laugh drove Wull from the grave-yard. He did not make his appearance at the jetty corner next day. His spirit was crushed. He never held up his head again, and when the doctor told him he was dying, he could only murmur, "Ye're a liar," and without continuing the argument, breathed his last. After Wull's death the assembly was broken up. Where they all agreed, it was impossible to get up a dispute. Joe Steele for some time managed to draw them together by relating his marvelous adventures, but they tired of these at last; and six months after Wull's death, the jetty corner was deserted by all save lazy Jamie Smith, who dragged himself to the old rendezvous every morning - too lazy to change his old habits and lay sleeping until carried home by his son at night. The patriarchs have been gathered to their fathers, and the village, which now boasts an Episcopal as well as a Presbyterian church, is being educated and otherwise improved. But the fishermen still think, with a sigh, of the good old days when they drank gin at every meal, and could get drunk on “boat lānchin' day” without being taken to task for it. George Runell Jackson. PISA. ON the Lung' Arno, in each stately street, Sad Pisa! in thy garments obsolete Thine inconsolable gaze speaks widowhood, A trance more lonely-lo! not many rods From the shrunk Arno, a more slumberous air, A dream of heaven in marbles rich and rare! Oppressed with sleep the Campanile nods; But in the Campo Santo's hush of breath, Orcagna's pathos paints, not Sleep, but Death! William Gibson. III. A FOREGONE CONCLUSION. DON IPPOLITO had slept upon his interview with Ferris, and now sat in his laboratory, amidst the many witnesses of his inventive industry, with the model of the breech-loading cannon on the work-bench before him. He had neatly mounted it on wheels, that its completeness might do him the greater credit with the consul when he should show it him, but the carriage had been broken in his pocket, on the way home, by an unlucky thrust from the burden of a porter, and the poor toy lay there disabled, as if to dramatize that premature explosion in the secret chamber. His heart was in these inventions of his, which had as yet so grudgingly repaid his affection. For their sake he had stinted himself of many needful things. The meagre stipend which he received from the patrimony of his church, eked out with the money paid him for baptisms, funerals, and marriages, and for masses by people who had friends to be prayed out of purgatory, would at best have barely sufficed to support him; but he denied himself everything save the necessary decorums of dress and lodging; he fasted like a saint, and slept hard as a hermit, that he might spend upon these ungrateful creatures of his brain. They were the work of his own hands, and so he saved the expense of their construction; but there were many little outlays for materials and for tools, which he could not avoid, and with him a little was all. They not only famished him; they isolated him. His superiors in the church, and his brother priests, looked with doubt or ridicule upon the labors for which he shunned their company, while he gave up the other social joys, few and small, which a priest might know in the Venice of that day, when all generous spirits regarded him with suspicion for his cloth's VOL. XXXIV.NO. 202. 10 sake, and church and state were alert to detect disaffection or indifference in him. But bearing these things willingly, and living as frugally as he might, he had still not enough, and he had been fain to assume the instruction of a young girl of old and noble family in certain branches of polite learning which a young lady of that sort might fitly know. The family was not so rich as it was old and noble, and Don Ippolito was paid from its purse rather than its pride. But the slender salary was a help; these patricians were very good to him; many a time he dined with them, and so spared the cost of his own pottage at home; they always gave him coffee when he came, and that was a saving; at the proper seasons little presents from them were not wanting. In a word, his condition was not privation. He did his duty as a teacher faithfully, and the only trouble with it was that the young girl was growing into a young woman, and that he could not go on teaching her forever. In an evil hour, as it seemed to Don Ippolito, that made the years she had been his pupil shrivel to a mere pinch of time, there came from a young count of the Friuli, visiting Venice, an offer of marriage; and Don Ippolito lost his place. It was hard, but he bade himself have patience; and he composed an ode for the nuptials of his late pupil, which, together with a brief sketch of her ancestral history, he had elegantly printed, according to the Italian usage, and distributed among the family friends; he also made a sonnet to the bridegroom, and these literary tributes were handsomely acknowledged. He managed a whole year upon the proceeds, and kept a cheerful spirit till the last soldo was spent, inventing one thing after another, and giving much time and money to a new principle of steam propulsion, which, as applied without steam to a small boat on the |