there would come out a blatter o' curses--'Hell! hell! an' damn, damn!' The elder was a wee fear-stricken at first, as wha wadna? but then the ill words, an' the way they were said, made him angry--for he could never hear ill words withoot checking them--an' sae he turned round wi' a stern brow, an' asked the appearance what it wanted, an' why it should hae come to disturb the peace o' the kintra, and to disturb him? It stood still at that, an' said, wi' an awsome grane, that it couldna be quiet in the grave till there were some justice done to Widow Stuart. It then tauld him that there were forty gowd guineas in a secret drawer in his desk, that hadna been found, an' tauld him where to get them, an' that he wad need gang wi' the laird an' the minister to the drawer, an' gie them a' to the widow. It couldna hae rest till then, it said, nor wad the kintra hae rest either. It willed that the lave o' the gear should be gien to the puir o' the parish; for nane o' the twa folk that laid claim to it had the shadow o' a richt. An' wi' that the appearance left him. It just went back through the slap in the hedge; an', as it stepped owre the ditch, vanished in a puff o' smoke. "Weel, but to cut short a lang story, the laird and the minister were at first gay slow o' belief--no that they misdoubted the elder, but they thocht that he must hae been deceived by a sort o' waking dream. But they soon changed their minds, for, sure enough, they found the forty guineas in the secret drawer. An' the news they got frae the south about Keilly was just as the appearance had said--no ane mair nor anither had a richt to his gear, for he had been a foundlin, an' had nae freends. An' sae my mither got the guineas, an' the parish got the rest, an' there was nae mair heard o' the apparition. We didna get back oor auld farm; but the laird gae us a bittie that served oor turn as weel; an', or my mither was ca'ed awa frae us, we were a' settled in the warld, an' doin for oorsels." THE STORY OF THE MEALMONGER.