He sent the men to get their breakfast from Nancy: none but himself should do the last offices for Ruadh! With skilful hand he separated and laid aside the head--in sacrifice to the living God. Then the hard earth rang with mighty blows of the pickaxe. The labour was severe, and long ere the grave was deep enough, Hector and Rob had returned; but the chief would not get out of it to give them any share in the work. When he laid hold of the body, they did not offer to help him; they understood the heart of their chief. Not without a last pang that he could not lay the head beside it, he began to shovel in the frozen clods, and then at length allowed them to take a part. When the grave was full, they rolled great stones upon it, that it might not be desecrated. Then the chief went back to his room, and proceeded to prepare the head, that, as the sacrifice, so should be the gift. "I suppose he would like glass eyes, the ruffian!" he muttered to himself, "but I will not have the mockery. I will fill the sockets and sew up the eyelids, and the face shall be as of one that sleeps." Haying done all, and written certain directions for temporary treatment, which he tied to an ear, he laid the head aside till the evening. All the day long, not a word concerning it passed between the brothers; but when evening came, Alister, with a blue cotton handkerchief in his hand, hiding the head as far as the roots of the huge horns, asked Ian to go for a walk. They went straight to the New House. Alister left the head at the door, with his compliments to Mr. Sercombe. As soon as they were out of sight of the house, Ian put his arm through his brother's, but did not speak. "I know now about turning the other cheek!" said Alister. "--Poor Euadh!" "Leave him to the God that made the great head and nimble feet of him," said Ian. "A God that did not care for what he had made, how should we believe in! but he who cares for the dying sparrow, may be trusted with the dead stag." "Truly, yes," returned Alister. "Let us sit down," said Ian, "and I will sing you a song I made last night; I could not sleep after you left me." Without reply, Alister took a stone by the wayside, and Ian one a couple of yards from him. This was his song. LOVE'S HISTORY. Love, the baby, Toddled out to pluck a flower; One said, "No, sir;" one said, "Maybe, At the evening hour!" Love, the boy, Joined the boys and girls at play; But he left them half his joy Ere the close of day. Love, the youth, Roamed the country, lightning-laden; But he hurt himself, and, sooth, Many a man and maiden! Love, the man, Sought a service all about; But he would not take their plan, So they cast him out. Love, the aged, Walking, bowed, the shadeless miles, Bead a volume many-paged, Full of tears and smiles.