Christie, looking askant at the animal, explained: “A moose is an awesome beast--it's no like a mon!” and still her eye was fixed by fascination upon the four-footed danger. Jean, who had not been herself in genuine tranquillity, now turned savagely on the little Wombwelless. “An' div ye really think ye are to come here wi' a' the beasts i' the Airk? Come, awa ye go, the pair o' ye.” These severe words, and a smart push, sent the poor little biped off roaring, with the string over her shoulder, recklessly dragging the terrific quadruped, which made fruitless grabs at the shingle.--_Moral._ Don't terrify bigger folk than yourself. Christie had intended to go up to Edinburgh with her eighty pounds, but there was more trouble in store this eventful day. Flucker went out after dinner, and left her with Sandy Liston, who was in the middle of a yarn, when some one came running in and told her Flucker was at the pier crying for her. She inquired what was the matter. “Come, an' ye'll see,” was all the answer. She ran down to the pier. There was poor Flucker lying on his back; he had slipped from the pier into a boat that lay alongside; the fall was considerable; for a minute he had been insensible, then he had been dreadfully sick, and now he was beginning to feel his hurt; he was in great anguish; nobody knew the extent of his injuries; he would let nobody touch him; all his cry was for his sister. At last she came; they all made way for her; he was crying for her as she came up. “My bairn! my bairn!” cried she, and the poor little fellow smiled, and tried to raise himself toward her. She lifted him gently in her arms--she was powerful, and affection made her stronger; she carried him in her arms all the way home, and laid him on her own bed. Willy Liston, her discarded suitor, ran for the surgeon. There were no bones broken, but his ankle was severely sprained, and he had a terrible bruise on the loins; his dark, ruddy face was streaked and pale; but he never complained after he found himself at home. Christie hovered round him, a ministering angel, applying to him with a light and loving hand whatever could ease his pain; and he watched her with an expression she had never noticed in his eye before. At last, after two hours' silence, he made her sit in full view, and then he spoke to her; and what think you was the subject of his discourse? He turned to and told her, one after another, without preface, all the loving things she had done to him ever since he was five years old. Poor boy, he had never shown much gratitude, but he had forgotten nothing, literally nothing. Christie was quite overcome with this unexpected trait; she drew him gently to her bosom, and wept over him; and it was sweet to see a brother and sister treat each other almost like lovers, as these two began to do--they watched each other's eye so tenderly.