“I can’t for the life o’ me get her to work, Nor aw the lang Sunday to go near a kirk; Nor frae week en’ to week en’ a chapter to read, For the Bible ligs stoury abuin the duir-head. “She yence cud ha’e crammel’d and writ her awn neame, And Sunday and warday was teydey at heame: Now to see her whol’d stockin’s, her brat, and her gown, She’s a shem and a byzen to all the heale town. “O wad she be guided, and stick to her wheel, There’s nane kens how fain I wad see her dui weel.” “_O Wife,” by Anderson._ THE house once cleared of the Frenchmen, Miss Wewitz’s first act was to throw up all the windows of the best bed-room, amid an infinity of lamentations as to the state of her property in that apartment—and endless doubts as to the possibility of ever getting the smell of that horrid tobacco smoke out of the curtains, or restoring the place to its wonted cleanliness and sweetness. This done, she mounted the stairs towards the linen-room, congratulating herself on having got rid of the fellows without something dreadful occurring between them and Chutney, the bare thoughts of which had prevented her having a wink of sleep for the last two nights. On entering the linen-room, there sat the figure in the same dejected attitude as that in which Miss Wewitz had found it in the morning. The schoolmistress began to grow alarmed at what she imagined to be the extreme stubbornness of the girl; and addressing the figure in her most impressive manner, said— “I hope and trust, Miss, you have by this time been awakened to a sense of the impropriety of your conduct.” Miss Wewitz paused a moment or two for a reply, and obtaining no answer, she continued, raising her voice— “I did hope, Miss Chutney, I repeat, that you had become sensible of the shameful manner in which you have been behaving for the last two days.” Here she paused again. “But,” she continued, finding no notice taken of her observation on the subject of Miss Chutney’s penitence, “from your silence I am led to believe that you still require some few hours more self-communion, to bring you to a perfect consciousness of the wickedness of your ways.” Miss Wewitz made another pause in her discourse, believing that the girl’s sulkiness could not possibly hold out much longer; and then proceeded to inform her, that, in consideration of her attention to her French last “half,” if she chose to ask her pardon for all she had done, she might leave her place of confinement, and go down stairs immediately. Still, to Miss Wewitz’s horror at what she could not but consider as an instance of stubbornness unparalleled in the whole annals of scholastic misdemeanours, not a syllable was spoken by way of reply to her liberal offer.