Who was Lost and is Found

thian was Mrs Ogilvy, still often called Mrs James by the elder people who had known her predece

f all the old-fashioned vegetables and most of the old-fashioned flowers of its period. But in front it was the trimmest cottage, low but broad, opening upon a little round platform encircled by a drive, and that, in its turn, by closely clipped holly-hedges, as thick as a wall and as smooth. Andrew, the gardener, thought it more genteel to fill the little flower-border in front with bedding-out plants in the summer,—red geraniums, blue lobelias, and so forth—never the pansies and gillyflowers his mistress loved,—and it was only with great difficulty that he had been prevented from shutting out the view by a clump of rhododendrons in the middle of the grass plot. “The view!” Andrew said in high contempt: but this time his mistress had her way. The view, perhaps, was nothing very wonderful to eyes accustomed to fine scenery. A bit of the road that led to Edinburgh and the world was visible am

in all climates and regions. Ladies who were critical said that this was a bad habit, and that there was nothing so becoming for a woman as to sit in her own drawing-room, in her own chair, where she could always be found when she was wanted. But a seat that was just under the drawing-room window, was not tha

any younger and prettier things in the world: which I allow is quite true in the general: yet there may be advantages in it, once in a way. She wore much the same dress all the year through, which was a black silk gown of varying degrees of richness (her best could “stand alone,” it was so good), or rather of newness—for the best gown of one year was the everyday dress of another, not so fresh perhaps, but wearing to the last thread, and always looking good to the last, as a good black silk ought to do. Over this she wore a white shawl, which on superior occasions{5} wa

ending that she was a woman who went a great deal among the poor. That fashion of charity had not come into use in her days. The Scotch poor are farouche, they are arrogant, and stand tremendously on their dignity—which is thought by many people a fine thing, though, I confess, I don’t{6} think it so; but it was no doubt cultivated more or less by good people like Mrs Ogilvy, who never visited among them, yet was ready to give with a liberality which was more like that of a Roman Catholic lady “making her soul” by such mean

d by the minister and some other{7} connoisseurs of the village to be a Rubens (which meant, I suppose, even in their sanguine imaginations, a copy); and a row of black silhouettes, representing various members of the family, over the mantelpiece. Therefore it will be seen there was great impartiality in respect to artistic value. The carpet was partially covered with a grey linen cloth to preserve it, which gave the room a somewhat chilly look. It was in the dining-room that Mrs Ogilvy chiefly sat. She would have found it a great trouble to change from one to another at every meal. The large dining-table had been placed against the wall,

which he could discourse, but only themes which Janet knew by heart. They were a most peaceable couple, never quarrelling, working into each other’s hands as the neighbours said, keeping the Hewan outside and inside as bright as a new pin; and I have no doubt that the sincerest affection, as well as every tie of habit and long companionship, bound them together: but still there were moments very probably when Janet, without using the word or probably understanding it, was bored. The “fore-night” was long, and the ticking of the clock, so offensively distinct when

aside her stocking, which went on by itself mechanically, but she turned her cou

. Andrew he’s away taking a look at Sandy. You would think he is a

, mindful of everybody’s

e less preceese about what he hears and sees. A man is mair about, he canna miss wha

s in the news is more entertainment i

but when onything important is stirring—there’s another muckle paper-mill to be set up on our water. It brings

is not like anything else in the world! It’s just life itself! It sees everything happen and flows on—no stopping for the like of us creatures of a day. It heartens me to think that

ough of it coming up through the trees; but none of the paper-mills would stop that. And when y

and strange men to sit and drink, and roar their dreadful songs at the public-house door; and more publics, and more di

for the new folk; but it is a grand thing to be making something, and putting work into men’s hands to do. Thae poor Millers themsel

e little blue-eyed one, that wa

unfortunate family like that, ye canna have a sair fin

He has laid his foundations in his first-born, and established his gates on his youngest son. You must tell Andrew that I wil

ye the Lord t

ound, we should be prepared for what it will bring forth, and no look for leaves of silver and apples of gold; but{12} why sh

ith a look that was not like the calm of the place. Whether Janet noted this or merely followed the instinct o

er, for she would learn nothing. She’s grown the biggest woman on a’ Eskside, and they call her Muckle Tammy, and mony an adventure she’s had since she left my kitche

We have had our experiences with our girrls, Janet,” Mrs Ogilvy said, with a

le—but some of them have turned out no so{13} ill

me small bit creature

s for the market at Edinburgh; for she is a lass with a tocher, her mother’s kailya

d him to keep everything clean and trig; but there’s no telling. A change like that works many ferlies. You must just see, Janet,

d by me, you will let it be no too much. If only one of these dishes had been stoppit off her wages it would have been

s that last the best. And now, if you{14} were to cry in And

hapter,” usually from one of the Gospels, and read in sequence night by night. Janet was of opinion that she never understood so well as when her mistress read, and indeed Mrs Ogilvy had a little pride in her reading, which was very clear and distinct with its broad vowels. The little prayer which was read out of a book did not please Andrew so much, who was of opinion that prayers ought never to be previously inve

med to Andrew that if he might speak “straught from the hairt” instead of that cauld prayer that was printed, the Lord would hear. I need not say that even in a Scotch book of domestic worship the words were varied from day to day, but the meaning was always the same. They left the mistress of the house in a certain commotion of mind when her old servants had bidden her good night and withdrawn. She had a way then of walking about the room, sometimes pausing as if to listen. There was deep silence about the Hewan, uplifted on its little brae, and with few houses near,—nothing to be heard except the distant murmur of the Esk, and the rustling of the trees. But{16} the night has strange mysteries of soun

mmer and winter every night a light burned till morning. People shook their heads at it as a piece of foolish sentiment and very extrava