Common humanity prompted me to offer her a place in my carriage back to the city. I inquired of the serjeant who the deceased was. He informed me that he was a young Scotch officer--that his marriage had offended his friends--that they had denounced him in consequence--that he had enlisted--and that the officers of the regiment which he had first joined, had procured him an ensigncy in a corps of Sepoys, but that he had died, leaving the young widow who wept over his grave, a stranger in a strange land. And, added the serjeant, "a braver fellow never set foot upon the ground." When the last sod had been placed upon the grave, I approached the young widow. I respectfully offered to convey her and the serjeant to the city in my carriage, as the violence of the storm increased. At my voice she started--she uttered a suppressed scream--she raised her head--she withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes!--I beheld her features!--and, gracious Heaven!--whom, sir!--whom--whom did I see, but my own Katie Alison! "Doctor!--doctor!" exclaimed the old dominie, starting from his seat, "what do I hear?" "I cannot describe to you," continued the other, "the tumultuous joy, combined with agony, the indescribable feelings of that moment. We stood--we gasped--we gazed upon each other; neither of us spoke. I took her hand--I led her to the carriage--I conveyed her to the city." "And, oh doctor, what then?" inquired the dominie. "Why, sir," said the doctor, "many days passed--many words were spoken--mutual tears were shed for Jamie Johnstone--and bonny Katie Alison, the lassie of my first love, became my wife, and is the mother of my children. She will be here in a few days, and will see her old dominie." THE CONTRAST OF WIVES.[B]