Year: 1878




Gilbert Ainslie was poor man and
he had been poor man all the days of
his life, which were not few, for his
thin hair was now waxing gray. He
had been born and bred on the small
moorland farm which he now occupied /;
and he hoped to die there, as his father
and grandfather had done before him,
leaving a family just above the more
bitter wants OF this world. With his
own hands he had ploughed, sowed,
and reaped his often scanty harvest, as
! sisted, as they grew up, by three sons,
who, even in boyhood, were happy to
work along with their father in the
fields. Out of doors or in, Gilbert
Ainslie was never idle. The spade, the
shears, the plough shaft, the sickle, aud
the fail, all came readily to hands that
grasped them we'll and not a morsel
of food was eaten under his roof, or a
garment worn there, that was not hon
estly, severely, earned. Gilbert Ainslie
was slave, but it was for them he
loved with a sober and deep affection.
The thraldom under which he lived
God had imposed, and it only served
to give his character shade of silent
gravity, but not austere to make his
smiles fewer, but more heartfelt; to
calm his soul at grace before and after
meals; and to kindle it in morning and
evening prayer.


There is no need to tell the character
of the wife of such man. Meek and
thoughtful, yet gladstone and gay
withal, her heaven was in her house ;
and her gentler and weaker hands
helped to bar the door against want.
OF ten children that had been born to
them, they had parted with three and
of the seven that survived, two sons
were farm servants in the neighborhoOd
while three daughters and two SONS re-
manned at home, growing, or grown up,
a small, happy, Woodworking house
hold.


Many cottages are there in Scotland
like MOss-side, and many such humble
and virtuous cOttagers as were now be-
meath its roof of straw. The eye of the
passing traveller may mark them, OF
mark them not, but they stand peace
! fully in thousands over all the land
and most beautiful do they make it,
through all it's wide valleys and narrow
glens-its low homes encircled by the
rocky walls of some bonny burn-its
green mounts elated with their little
crowning groves of plane trees-its yel-
low cornfields, its bare pastoral hill
sides, and all its healthy mOors, Oh
whose black bosom lie shining or con-
cealed glades of excessive verdure, in
habited by fowres, and visited only by
the far-fying bees.


In this cottage Gilbert's youngest
child, girl about nine years of age
had been lying for IA week in fever
1t was now Saturday evening, the eve
of the New Year, and the ninth day o.
the disease. Was she to live or die
1t seemed as if very few hours were
between the innocent creature an(
heaven. All the symptoms were those
of approaching death. The parent:
knew we'll the change that comes owe
the human face, whether it be in infan
cy, youth, or prime, just before the de
parture of the spirit and as they stOOt
together by Margaret's bed, it seemed
to them that the fatal shadow had fall
ell upon her features. The surgeon o
: the parish lived some miles distant, bu
they expected him now every moment
and MANY wistful look was directet
by fearful eyes along the moor.


The calm, nOiseless spirit of life wa
in and around the house, while dealt
seemed dealing with one who fev
days ago was like light upon the hool
and the sound of music, that alway
: breathed up when most wanted; gla'
); and joyous in common talk-sweet, sill
: very, and mournful, when it joined il


hymn and psalm. One after another
they all continued going up to the bed
side, and then coming away sObbing o
silent, to see their merry little sister


who used to keep dancing all day lik
!. butterfly in the meadowfield in sum
. mer, or like butterfly with shut wing
on a flower, trifing for while in tn
silence of her joy, now tossing restless
ly on her bed, and scarcely sensible t
the words of endearment whispere
: : around her, or the kisses dropt wit
e tears, in spite of themselves, on he
g burning forehead.


Utter poverty often kills the affec