however, nor without a struggle; and she had been engaged several weeks before she could summon courage to communicate the intelligence to Mrs. Eldon. It was in vain she repeated to herself that she “had only her own happiness to consult,” and that “she cared not what others said.” Her usual independence almost deserted her, and for the first time in her life she dreaded a smile, and shrank from hearing “plain English.” “Dear, dear Sarah!” exclaimed Mrs. Ludlow, as she embraced her friend most affectionately, “how could you keep me so long in the dark? But I am come to congratulate, and not scold you. And now tell me all about it;” and the how, and the when, and the where, followed in quick succession, and was listened to with such animated interest and cordial sympathy, and all that Mary knew or thought, or had ever heard, that was favorable to Mr. Allen, was poured forth so kindly, that Sarah’s spirits rose, and, as she parted with her friend, she felt an elasticity and joyousness of heart that she had not experienced since her engagement. “Heaven bless her kind nature!” said Sarah, with a degree of enthusiasm that was unusual to her; “I always feel better after I have been with her.” Had the same observation ever been made on parting with Sarah? We doubt it. CHAPTER II. It made me laugh to hear Jock skirl in the chimney. “Now,” said I, “you know what hanging is good for.” HEART OF MID LOTHIAN. “Mr. Allen looks feeble, Sarah,” said Mrs. Eldon to her sister, some time after her marriage—“Is he well?” “Yes, perfectly,” replied Sarah. “Pray don’t put it into his head that he is not, or you will make him more indolent than ever. He wants exercise, that is all. I wish him to ride on horseback before breakfast.” “At what hour do you breakfast?” inquired Mrs. Eldon. “At six,” replied her sister. “At six at this season!” exclaimed Mrs. Eldon. “Why it can scarcely be light. Does Mr. Allen like such early hours?” “No,” answered Mrs. Allen, laughing, “he would greatly prefer nine, I believe. But such indolent habits destroy all order and regularity in a household.” “Now, Mrs. Eldon, I appeal to you,” said her brother-in-law, good-humoredly, “if there is any use in being up at candle-light. I tell Sarah we have the twenty-four hours before us. I do not see the use of hurrying so. It appears to me I hardly get asleep before the bell rings for breakfast.” “The use of early rising,” replied Sarah, “is that we need never hurry. There is time for every thing, and unless the master and mistress are up, every thing stands still. And, after all, it only depends upon habit whether we dislike it or not;” and there was something in her tone and manner that implied it was a habit her husband must acquire.