Litchfield enquirer., 1878-04-04

quite unlimited all down the hillside, linen lay bleaching in the sun, and another contrast was not only in the way it was left out at night but in the absence of bolts, bars, and shutters in the houses Not even the shop had shutters, and theft was as unknown there as though a mounted guard watched necessarily over the place.
 The shop (there was but one) sold every i'm aginable thing from treacle and herrings to needles and cheese, and the widow who kept the shop was an autocrat in her way. She was licensed to sell spirits, and it would be good for humanity if all ''licensed individu- als" acted on the same firm principles To some she positively refused to sell at alto others she allowed only what she considered right for them to have. She knew the private affairs of each individual and was guided by that. 1 have seen her refuse "a dram" to a ky-looking shepherd who, asked for one, saying to him in the tone you might use to an unreasonable child. ''Hoot ava, Sandy. ye ken weel your head is nae like ither heads, and drap will set it spinning: Ma, na, man, gang hame, and dinna compare your head with ithers!" and the man quietly withdrew with a look of sheepish resignation To anoth- CT man she said, Surely didna hear rightly 1; it's na dram ye're seeking and your wife sac sober" (which did not refer to sobriety, as
 
 he showed temper, she said, with change of voice that would have suited an actress ''Im sorry I've no spirit good enough for you, MT. Gran, but you'll get it at the next shop" which was exactly eleven miles off With this care fulness for the welfare of her neighbors. she was not at all above making a close bargain and feel convinced (and indeed my house. keeper never lets me forget it) that paid more than 1 ought to have done for some ban danas that bought at her shop.
 From this woman, who talked upon all sub- Jects con Gnaore, heard a great deal about old Mrs. Grant and Jean, and everything I heard was to the credit of both. The old woman had been an excellent mother to delicate daughter who died of broken heart on the sudden death of her husband. The only grandchild, Kenneth Malcolm,'' had been brought up by the grandmother, and, as was often the case in Scotland before school-boards came in the way, he had received a first-rate education, and had turned out by all accounts fine young fellow, and steady and clev- CT.
 Mrs. Grant had come to Burnside more than forty years before my first acquaintance with the place; no one knew aohy she had come there or anything about her antecedents. It was supposed the oldl laird was acquainted with her story, but he had never told it to any one. He had requested his nephew and successor to all low her to live out her life rent free, and, in addition to this, a small yearly sum was paid to her from some unknown source. She was necessarily busy, and her spinning and knitting were quite famous. Jean had gone to her when she was well-grown child of ten, and the re- lations between them were more those of moth CT and child than of mistress and servant. When she had been there two or three years mlsfortunes began to come, and they never come singly! Widow Grant fell and hurt herself so much that she did not recover from the injury; then she had a paralytic stroke, and by degrees sank into the complete state of helplessness in which she was when 1 first made her acquaintance. Jeans devotion was unceasing, and her spinning and knitting fill ed up the gap when the poor old woman was helpless. Very confused and various accounts were given of how and why Kenneth had gone away. All the people knew for certain was that Jean, for the first and only time since she had lived at Burnside, had gone to Skye, and returned only the very day Kenneth had left for New Zealand, and that they had not met.
 Not long after his departure the little sum of money which made the small household so comfortable suddenly ceased and Widow Grant had refused, in an excited and deter mined manner, to allow any inquiries to be made about it. Jean acquiesced. Their wants were very few, but everybody said that since kenneth's departure she had not looked the same; and it was evident that, as in all life's histories, a romance was woven through it all Though why, as by all accounts Kenneth had been ''sair set" on having her for his wife, she should have refused him, and have actually been the cause of his leaving the country, was beyond the comprehension of every one
 My visits to Burnside became of great inter est to me- The old woman began to look for ward to my arrival with much evident pleas ure, and the freshness and originality of Jeans remarks were very pleasant She had read nothing save the pages of nature so lavishly distributed round her; but everything came with such acute observance, and her mind nat urally was so refined, that used to feel when with her as if 1 had more to learn from her than she could learn from me.
 CHAPTER III.
 1 shall always remember certain autumnal day, not long before left this Highland spot "a day when the golden haze of an ''Indian Summer" filled the air. In valley, stretch ing away through the hills, some oats were ready to cut, and a neighboring farmer, who had imported the first reaping machine to that part of the country, had lent it for the occa- sion.
 Every one turned out as though it were a festival In harvest many respectable mar ried woman earns enough to clothe herself and her children for the rest of the year. The work is pleasant to them, and they are as proud of their quickness and dexterity as any London belle of her prowess in dancing. It was certainly one of the prettiest sights ever saw; the many colors of the various dresses, the activity and merriment as the machine worked round the field, leaving the straight lines of prOstrate corn in it's track in regular rows. At stated intervals one woman and a man were placed; dexterous little band, wo- ven from the cut corn, was laid on the ground and an armful of corn laid upon it then the mans stronger fingers knotted the ends round it, and set the sheaf upright. The driver and his fellows hurried on the horses and tried to keep the workers busy and the workers, with many a laugh and jest, exerted themselves with their utmost quickness, in order to stand ostentatiously idle. before the machine came round again. Seated on the hillside, where the lingering gorse flowers and wild thyme at tracted countless bees, l watched the scene, trying to distinguish the faces I knew
 After little while recognized Jean, her active and upright figure one of the busiest there. As usual she was bareheaded. and her hair gleamed like red gold in the sunlight. As usual too, her manner had the quiet reserve that she never laid aside; and noticeable thing was the silent respect with which the man with whom she worked treated her. He followed her footsteps as though one wishing to serve her, not as an equal. .
 sat long, enjoying the peaceful and happy scene, familiarity had only made me more fond of that secluded spot-and thought had learned to appreciate it better; sweet scents and sounds were all around me- The breeze swept past me as it rose and died away rlfiing the surface of the corn as it ruffled the surface of the sea, and hurrying the flight oi the countless insects that rustled their wings among the wild flowers.
 I was reused from my day-dream by seeing little barefooted lad knew run off to Jean l and pull her gown. In a moment she had snatched up her plaid, spoken to the manager, and was gone, followed by the boy. I con jectured' that the old woman was perhaps ill, but I was always afraid of intruding, and knew that if was wanted Jean would send for me. left the hillside and wound my way up steep path leading homeward. I paused at the top to rest a moment and take one oth CT look of the brilliant and busy scene, wher clear voice began to sing lovely Gaelic air with a uorrnfuI refrain in minor kav K