"Ir is a grand thing, true and genuine morality! If I were a minister, I wad never preach up onything but just pure morality," said Cuddy Cauldrife to his neighbour shepherd, Michael Moody, one morning as they sat on the top of Lochfell, and cast their eyes over the fair dales of the West Border.

"An' what for wad ye no be preachin' ought but morality, Cuddy? We hae muckle need o' hearing some other sort o' doctrine than cauld morality, an' to hae some other thing to put our trust in, too, beside that.'

"Quite wrong, my good fellow, I assure you. There is no doctrine which should be inculcated at all times, and in all places, but that of sound morality, because it is the bond of society and good manners, and goes to counteract the enormous mass of general turpitude within us."

"I dinna think that observation is quite applicable to us as Scotsmen.” "And wherefore not applicable to Scotsmen ?"

"Because ye ken it is reported that we are unco subject to the Scots fiddle.

Now, if there war sae verra muckle turpentine within us, ane wad think it should act as a preventative." "Whew! There's nae body can ever get a solid argument frae you, but aff ye flee at a tangent into the wilds of absurdity."

"I'll tell you what, my friend Cuddy. As I take it, there's just as muckle solidity in your morality as your turpentine-a aff in a bleeze. Have ye ony kind o' notion that ye are a man o' sound moral principles ?"

"I hope and trust that there has never been any great moral turpitude perceivable in my character or de

meanour.

"Maybe sae, maybe sae. I hope it is true; but let us bring things to the test. The first an' leading error that we shepherds fa' into, is that o' kissing the lasses. That's weel kend to be our besetting sin. Now, I dinna think you are very guilty o' that, for there winna ane o' the lasses let you come near her, or touch her. But Cuddy, wasna there aince a kind o’ queer story about a wild young wife, a neighbour o❜ yours? Was there nane

o'-what is't you ca' the thing, then? Moral something?”

"I don't know if there was any great depravity or moral turpitude in the action, supposing it to be true, for argument sake, if the consarcination of their conjugality is taken into account."

"There for it! There goes sound morality, full sail afore the wind o' delusion! I'll tell you what, neighbour Cuddy, when a man has to modify the law o' God to suit his sinfu' propensities, it is a braw easy way o' squaring his accounts. The moral law is gayan explicit on that point; and yet, try it a point by point, an' you will find that you have not only broken the whole law, by being guilty of one breach, but broken the sum total of all the righteous commandments. For instance, I dinna ken if ever you killed ony o' your neighbours; but that you haena used a lawfu' endeavours to preserve their lives, I ken weel. For do you no mind when we were gawn awa' to the courting aince, that ye persuadit me against my ain conviction, to venture on the ice, and after I had gaen down ower the lugs, and was within a hairsbreadth o' being drowned, ye war a' the time lying laughin' sae, that ane might hae bound you wi' a strae? What kind o' morality was that? I trow, right near mortality to me. And mair be token, I dinna think ye wad steal ane o' your neighbour's sheep, but weel do ye like to get a pluck o' his gerse at a quiet corner.'

"My dear fellow, there was no moral turpitude there. That was probably because I know that neighbour to be daily getting part of his grass from me."

"Ay, that's just the way wi' a' you grand moral men! Ye never square your actions to the law, but the law to your actions. But that is just the way wi' poor human nature; whenever she tries to uplift hersell, she is degraded. And particularly in this, that I never yet knew a grand declaimer on the principles of sound morality, who ever was an upright, charitable, and amiable character; and I hardly ever knew a man of humility, who placed his hopes on the works of

for rattans like them?" quo a gruesome Scots tinkler.

another who had stood in his stead, that was not a model of what the other inculcated. But the best way o' settling a' these points atween herds, is by instances, and as I remember a beautifu' ane, I'll just tell you it.

Weel, ye see there are twa towns stand near other, no very far frae here, and we shall distinguish them by the twa names that their neighbours ca' them, The Gude town, and The Bad town. They belang baith to the same parish, but far frae being friendly wi' ane another; for the fo'ks o' the gude town scorn to associate wi' the others. Now, there was a body in the bad town that they ca'd Betty Rae, wha let out lodgings to poor fo'ks, at a penny the night, and a weel filled house she often had, though her lodgers warna just the maist respectfu' i' the community. Yet, I believe mony a good Christian, and mony a humble heart, wha hadna great routh o' the things o' this warld, were obliged, at times, to take shelter aneath Betty's roof. Ilk ane paid his penny as he came in, and there were nae questions asked; and whatever else they wanted was a' paid for aforehand.

Weel, there was ae night, amang others, a woman and her daughter came in for lodgings, paid their twopence, and went away to a bed in the end where the women slept, without asking for any thing to eat or drink. The woman had the appearance of having seen better days, for in her manners she was a lady, although in her looks much emaciated; and the little girl, scarcely ten years of age, was as beautiful as a cherub. Betty had learned long before to read in the looks and bearing of her customers the precise state of their finances; so, when she returned from shewing this pair to their bed, she said to the rest of her burly customers, I fear that puir body an' her bit lassie are rather run short o' the needfu', for I'm unco far mistaen gin they haena mair need o' their supper than ony o' us hae the night, an yet they hae ordered naething. I hae just been thinkin', if ye could hae spared me happenies a-piece, I wad hae added twa or three mysel', an' bought something good for them. For, dye ken, the poor wee lassie's greetin o' hunger?"

"Hoh! deil hae them! wha cares

"I waudn't be mynded to help wonysooken trash for my own peart," said an English gaberlunzie.

"The buddies 'll mubby hae sumthing alangs wee thum. Far de they cumin frae?" said an Aberdeen man.

"And, by my shoul and body, man, and what is the matter where they come from, or where they are going either, if they are to be after dying of hunger in the first place? And, be Jasus, if you will all give a penny a piece, I will give my last one, before the dare shouls should be under the death-warrant of hunger,” said a ragged Irishman.

"Hersel pe hafing no shange, else she would pe kiffing tem a pawpee," said Nicol Shaw, an old Highlander, who sat with a snuff-horn in his hand, and which horn had a snuff-spoon, a hare's foot, and a neesepike append ed.

"O, but I'll gie you change, honest man," said Betty Rae." What is the soom ye want changed?"

Shaw winked with the one eye, and looked silly with the other, like one catched in a fault, brushed his nose with the hare's foot, and replied, "She pe fery pad shange in tis pad town."

Paddy losing patience, cursed them all for hard-hearted rascals, and pulling down a decanter of tin, he ran out, and after an absence of about ten minutes returned with a penny roll, and a brimming decanter of sweetmilk, warm from the cow.

"Where got you these, Paddy? How came you by these?" was asked by all.

"Pray thee don't be after bothering people with so many questions just now," said Paddy, and rushed with his earnings ben to the poor woman's bed.

"Oho, mistress, and so you thought to chate us out of your swate com pany, and go supperless to bed? But may Shant Patrick be my namhe* if you shall do so. Oh botheration, no! And this little dare shoul too? Why Paddy Murphy would rather be after wanting his supper twenty times than the swate little darling should be famishing with hunger. And, oh, I declare and sware that she must be after

dhying already, for her belly is not bigger nor a paraito. That's my swate honey! Take your supper heartily! And when it is done you shall have plenty more."

In this manner did Paddy Murphy run on all the while the half-famished pair were at their meal. A Scotsman would have tried to discover their names, friends, or qualities. An Englishman, if they had any connexion with any mercantile house; but Paddy had no conception of any thing of the sort. When he returned to the kitchen he could neither tell who they were, whence they had come, or whither they were going, but only that they were there; that he was sure of, and had been very hungry, but he had cured them of that disease.

There having, by this time, been some interest excited about the two strangers, Betty Rae went to reconnoitre farther, and returned with word that the poor woman was very ill, and like dying, for that "the meat had taken her by the heart, and she was a' drawn thegither wi' pain." She added farther that the woman was a minister's daughter, and belonged to the Highlands, but her husband had been killed in the wars, and she was left destitute, and far from home.

"But, poor woman, she'll never see hame," said Betty, mournfully," an' "an' what's to come o' her bit bonny helpless bairn, the Lord only kens!"

But

This observation made Paddy wipe his eyes, but he could do no more, for he had spent his last penny on a roll for her, and stolen the milk, by milking some of Squire Hardy's cows; and so Paddy was obliged to content himself with blessing them a hundred times or two, and praying that Jasus and Shant Patrick would take the swate darlings under their care. old Nicol Shaw, hearing they belonged to the Highlands, after a good deal of hesitation and exclamations of pity, actually, at last, untied his cotton neckcloth. Below it there was another one, which he also loosed; and from a knot in the inner corner of that, and which corner lay exactly in the hollow part of his neck, he took a small parcel of gold pieces, and gave his hostess one in exchange for silver. What part of that he gave to the sufferer next day be kept to himself. The rest of the lodgers suspected that he had given her nothing; but in this they were wrong, as afterwards became manifest.

The next day, the mother was so ill as to be unable to lift her head, and old Betty Rae, who had long been compelled, by the uncertain characters among whom she dealt, to give nothing for nothing, was sadly puzzled how to act, for a sick person in her dormitory was a blow to her business ; so, after a private conference with Nicol Shaw, she set away over to the good town, to the parish minister, to lay the case before him and his session.

Now, this parish minister, it is well known, is the most brilliant and most strenuous preacher up of good works in the whole kingdom. Sound morality is with him, like you, all and all; the only path to Heaven and to hap piness; yet no kind or disinterested action has ever been recorded, even in the traditions of his parish, of this man. So, when told that Betty Rae wanted him, he said, he had nothing to say to Betty Rae; she was always seeking something for some of her delinquent customers. Betty, however, told the servant girl, that she would not leave the manse till she had spoke with the minister, who was obliged to lift his window reluctantly, and ask the intruder's business.

"Troth, sir, it is joost neither less nor mair than this. There is an officer's widow taken ill at my bit house owerbye yonder, and lying, I fear, at the point o' death. She has a follower, too, poor woman! a dear, kind-hearted, little girl. An' ye ken, sir, I canna afford to maintain them, an' get skeel for them, an' nurse them; sae ye maun consider, an say what fund is to draw on for this purpose."

"

"Draw on your own funds, Mrs Rae, since you have been so imprudent as to encumber yourself with such lodgers; get quit of them the best way you may. Your house, by drawing beggars about it, is a perfect nuisance in the parish."

"I won my bread as honestly, and a great deal hardlier than ye do, sir, an' yet I dinna joost trust to my good warks awthegither. But I hae nae ither means o' keeping mysell out o' your parish funds, and think I rather deserve praise than blame for my poor exertions. But that's naething to the purpose; tell me what's to be done wi' the poor lady an' her bairn, for, as the head o' the session, you are bound to see after her, that I ken; an' gin I dinna get a satisfactory an◄

swer, I'll lay her down at your door in the course of an hour."

There was nothing terrified the minister so much as this, and that Betty kend weel. So he then judged it proper to come to terms with this hostess of the poor, by asking to what parish the woman belonged, and what was her name?

"Alack-a-day, sir, I fear she is far frae her native parish," said Betty; "for they ca' it Abernethy, on a great river ca'd the Spey, that rises somegate i' the Heelands, near the North Pole; and her name's Mistress M'Queen, and she's a minister's daughter. An' as ye hae daughters o' your ain, sir, an' dinna ken what they may come to, ye should open your heart to the condition o' the poor woman, wha has seen better days."

"Why, Mrs Rae, there is only one rule in our parish laws, which is this: -We must convey her to the next parish. That parish to the next again, and so on, till she reach her own. I have no power of ordering anything farther."

"Than ye may save yoursell the trouble of ordering that, sir, for if ye offer to lift her out o' her bed just now, and pit her intil a cart, ye may as weel hing her ower a bauk at aince, or cut off her head an' be done wi' her. Sae, for the sake o' Christian charity, ye maun think o' some ither plan for the present; for I am mistaen gin ye be lang fashed wi' her. A little wine, or as muckle siller as wad hire the carter, wad hae been a mair feasible award frae ane that's sae keen o' good warks."

But auld Betty Rae was only hard and niggardly by habitual practice, it being by pennies and half-pennies that she made her livelihood; for she had many of the tender feelings so natural to a woman, and so inherent in a true Christian. She never thought of parting with the stranger, unless she could procure a better lodging for her, which she had little hope of, knowing the fountain head at which she had to apply. But she did hope to secure some remuneration for the expense and trouble she was likely to incur. She was mistaken. The minister, who had on his dressing-gown, retired to his study, to continue the penning of his splendid eulogium on good works, but left such poor devils as Betty Rae to the practice of them.

As Betty went home, she could not help entertaining some severe reflec tions on, "the hale fashionable principle o' gude warks," as she termed it; and as she was buying some wine and cordials from Christopher Little, she says to him, "Gudesake, gie me fair weight an' measure, Kirsty! But I believe ye're a man o' sound morality?"

'Ay, just sae an' sae, Bessie, neighbour like."

"Ye dinna expect that your gude warks are to tak ye till Heaven thendo ye?"

"If we had nae ither grip, I fear you an' I wad hae baith but a poor chance, Bessie."

"Ay, like enough. But d'ye think our minister's are sure enough to tak him there?"

"Our minister's! O I coudna say about that, for it is the first time ever I heard tell o' them."

"Ah, ye've a way, Kirsty! But there's nae fun i' my mind; for I hae a poor dying widow lady i' my house, an' the minister winna help me wi’ ony thing but a cart to take her away in."

"She maun be ill-looking, I fear. An' in that case the parson's resolution is quite orthodox-because ye ken, Bessie, gude warks shoudna be extendit to aught that's no beautifu' in itself-Eh?"

Bessie smudged and leugh at the shopman's insinuations, and returned home with a physician, who prescribed to her patient; and in short, for a whole quarter of a year there was not a good thing that the bad town could produce, that Mrs M'Queen was not

treated with. Neither did Betty ever apply any more to the minister; and instead of doing her house ill, the singular act of benevolence raised her character so high among her motley customers, that they were proud of counting acquaintance with her; and her house became so well frequented, that she was obliged to take in an assistant, and raise the price of her lodg ings. She grew particularly attached to the little girl, Annabell M'Queen, a perfect pattern of comeliness and kindness of heart. Betty often insinuated to the sufferer, that she should write to her friends in the north, but this she always declined complying with, from what motive was not understood, but it was most probably from an aversion at being found in such mean circumstances.

However, after three months' confinement in Betty Rae's house, the poor woman was enabled to proceed on her journey homeward. Nor did she travel far on foot, for, near the village of Graitney she got into a coach, and the driver afterwards declared that she paid her fare, and was set down in Edinburgh. No farther word was heard of her for many years, but the act of benevolence made Betty Rae's fortune. It was blazoned over the whole country what she had done, and what the minister of the gospel had refused to do; and there was not a lady in the parish, and but few in the district, who did not send Betty presents. It was calculated that she got at least fifty presents, every one of which amounted in value to the whole sum expended on the invalid. And to crown all, at the next quarterly meeting of the heritors, a gentleman (Mr Ker of Holm) laid the case before the others, to the great shame and prejudice of the minister, and got a liberal allowance for Betty.

Now, mine hostess of the mendicants chuckled in her sleeve, and took all this bounty with great thankfulness and humility, after saying, "Dear sirs, dear sirs! I had nae merit at a' in sheltering the poor woman. How could ony Christian soul turn out a poor sick creature to dee at the back o' the dike? Od, we may easily ken that by oursells. How wad ony o' us like to be turned out wi' a poor little orphan i' our hand, to dee at the back o' the dike? I had nae merit at a', and I wish ye wadna mention it ony mair, for fear ye mak me as proud o' my

gude warks an' sound morality, as the minister is o' his."

Now the truth is, that Betty had some merit, but not half so much as the country supposed, or that you, Cuddy Cauldrife, are at this moment supposing; for there is another person whom we have long lost sight of, like the greater part of our lady novelists, who introduce characters for the mere purpose of showing them off (vide The Lairds o' Fife, Rich and Poor, and a thousand others.) But we must not quite lose sight of them all, though in a short tale like this one cannot get the most made of them. However, it will be remembered, that on the night of Mrs M'Queen's arrival in the Bad town, there was lodged at Betty's house a Scots itinerant tinker, or gipsie, a character well known; an Englishman, who was an excise spy, and a great blackguard, and who subsequently got himself shot in an affray with smugglers, and well deserved it; an Irishman, who was on his way to the east country for harvest, and who was at no loss to beg his way till he found work; and an old Highlander, ycleped Nicholas Shaw, but more commonly denominated Old Nick, or Nicol, in courtesy. This old carle, it will be remembered, changed half a guinea with the landlady, in order to give the sufferer a part of it; and had a short conference that night with Mrs M'Queen, from which he returned greatly agitated.

Now, this old Nicol Shaw was not a beggar, though he had very much the appearance of one; for Nicholas in his own country of Strathspey, was accounted a very independent man: But an Englishman, or even a Scots Lowlander, has no conception to what extent Highland frugality can be car ried, especially when there is any family object in view. The attachment of a genuine Highlander, in the first place, to his family; in the second place, to his kinsfolk; and in the third and last place, to his whole clan, is beyond what any man but a Highlander can comprehend; and even in all these three, there are but very small shades of difference; for, in spite of existing circumstances, he still looks upon the clan as in reality one family, of which the chief is the parent-a charity extending beyond these,-her nain-sell does not comprehend.

Old Shaw was one of those true