All was happiness on their arrival at Mr. Scott's; an excellent dinner was prepared for them, which they were too happy to do much justice to. Soon after dinner, Mr. Scott proposed going with them to their own house; and said he hoped they had not forgotten how to walk, as he should expect a visit from them every day, and their house was a little distance from Craigie Hall. They laughed, and continued chatting with him and Mrs. Scott all down the river, till they came to the very cottage they had admired so much in the morning. "Pray, Sir," asked John, "who lives here now? Mr. Elliott I think must have left it, for he was not very famous for keeping his house in such excellent order."--"He is dead," answered Mr. Scott, "and it has been lately sold to a gentleman that has come from foreign parts. The family are not yet come down to it, but I believe are shortly expected. Would you like to look at the inside of the house? it is very well worth seeing; for, according to my taste, it is as pretty a neat box as you will meet with any where." Marion said she should like to see it of all things; they therefore turned up the little path that led to the door. Mr. Scott knocked, and it was opened by Peggy Oliphant, dressed in her best Sunday's gown; she curtesied and looked eagerly at John, who shook hands with her on entering. They went over every room, and all the different adjoining offices, Mr. Scott seeming to take particular pleasure in pointing out all its superior qualities. John thought he never had seen so complete a thing and almost wished he had not examined it, for fear of finding his own much inferior. At length when every thing had been admired, Mr. Scott taking John's hand, said, "Now, my dear son, Marion, long ago, let me into a secret about this cottage, and when your joyful letter arrived, a thought came into my head, that I would surprise you. Mr. Elliott had been dead some time, and I knew his heirs wanted to dispose of the farm; I therefore made them an offer, which was accepted. I have fitted it up according to what I think will be pleasing, both to you, my dear children, and even to your intended guest. I have only to add, it is my wedding gift to my daughter, who I hope, will never again quit her native dale, at least during her mother's life and mine." John and Marion were so overcome with their own happiness and Mr. Scott's kindness, that they could only answer him with their tears; Marion threw herself into his arms, calling him the best and kindest of fathers. "Oh," at last said John, "had I known what a fortune Marion was, I scarcely think I could have had courage to ask her to be my wife." "I am very glad you knew nothing about it then," said Mr. Scott, "for we should have been all in the wrong without you, Marion would never have had any other man; you know she has been in love with you ever since you jumped over Bob's ears; and to own the truth, I approve her taste from the bottom