And, later still, when times were changed, And tend’rer thoughts came o’er thee, When abject, suppliant, and poor, Thy injurer came before thee. How thou did’st freely all forgive, Thy heart and sword presented, Although thou knew’st the deed must be In tears of blood repented. Scotland! the land of all I love, The land of all that love me; Land, whose green sod my youth has trod, Whose sod shall lie above me! Hail! country of the brave and good, Hail! land of song and story; Land of the uncorrupted heart, Of ancient faith and glory! R. C. STORY OF MRS MACFARLANE. ——“Let them say I am romantic—so is every one said to be, that either admires a fine thing or does one. On my conscience, as the world goes, ’tis hardly worth any body’s while to do one for the honour of it. Glory, the only pay of generous actions, is now as ill paid as other great debts; and neither Mrs Macfarlane, for immolating her lover, nor you for constancy to your lord, must ever hope to be compared to Lucretia or Portia.”—_Pope, to Lady M. W. Montague._ It was formerly the fashion in Scotland for every father of a family to take all the people under his care along with him to church, leaving the house locked up till his return. No servant was left to cook the dinner, for it was then judged improper to take a dinner which required cooking. Neither, except in the case of a mere suckling, was it considered necessary to leave any of the children; every brat about the house was taken to church also; if they did not understand what was said by the minister, they at least did not prevent the attendance of those who did; and moreover—and this was always a great consideration—they were out of harm’s way. One Sunday, in autumn 1719, Sir John Swinton of Swinton, in Berwickshire, was obliged to omit his little daughter Margaret from the flock which usually followed him to church. The child was indisposed with some trifling ailment, which, however, only rendered it necessary that she should keep her room. It was not considered requisite that a servant should be left behind to take charge of her, for she was too sagacious a child to require any such guardianship; and Sir John and Lady Swinton naturally grudged, with the scruples of the age, that the devotions of any adult member of their household should be prevented on such an account. The child, then, was left by herself in one of the upper bed-rooms of the old baronial mansion of Swinton, no other measure being taken for her protection than that of locking the outer door.