All the family arose from their knees with altered looks. Thus fenced, a new energy glowed in every breast. Poor Maysey, proud of her husband’s bold and sublime intercession, and trusting in the divine fence now raised around them, rose with the tear in her eye, seized the lamp, and led the way, followed by all the rest, to retake the apartment of Kirky’s ghost by open assault. Nanny, whose faith wont to be superior to all these things, lagged behind, dreading to see the sight that she had seen on the Saturday night before; and the bold intercessor himself kept her company, on pretence of a sleeping leg; but, in truth, his faith in his own intercession and fence did not mount very high. All the apartment was searched—every chest, corner, and hole that could be thought of—every thing was quiet, and not so much as a mouse stirring!—not a bed–cover folded down, nor the smallest remembered article missing! All the family saw Kirky’s ghost enter in his own likeness, and heard him speak in his wonted tongue, except old Nanny. It was a great and wonderful victory gained. They were again in full possession of their own house, a right which they never seemed before to have duly appreciated. They felt grateful and happy; and it was hinted by Maysey, Dan, and uncle Nicholas, that Davie Tait would turn out a burning and a shining light in these dark and dismal times, and would supersede Messrs Renwick, Shields, and all the curates in the country. He had laid a visible ghost, that might be the devil for aught they knew to the contrary; and it was argued on all hands, that “Davie was nae sma’ drink.” The whole of the simple group felt happy and grateful; and they agreed to sit another hour or two before they went to sleep, and each one read a chapter from the Bible, and recite a psalm or hymn. They did so, until it came to Nanny’s turn. [Music: A Cameronian’s Midnight Hymn. O thou who dwell’st in the heavens high, Above yon Stars and within yon Sky, Where the dazzling fields never needed light, Of the Sun by day nor the Moon by night, Where the dazzling fields never needed light, Of the Sun by day nor the Moon by night. ] She laid her hands across each other on her breast, turned in the balls of her half–closed eyes so that nothing was seen but the white, and, with her face raised upwards, and a slow rocking motion, she sung the following hymn, to a strain the most solemn that ever was heard. A scrap of this ancient melody is still preserved, and here subjoined, for without its effect the words are nothing. O thou, who dwell’st in the heavens high, Above yon stars, and within yon sky, Where the dazzling fields never needed light Of the sun by day, nor the moon by night! Though shining millions around thee stand, For the sake of one that’s at thy right hand, O think of them that have cost him dear, Still chained in doubt and in darkness here!