Upon the banks or shore of the Frith of Cree, at that point where it would be difficult to say whether the sea or the river prevailed, stood, in old times, a mud cottage, surrounded by a clump of trees. It was quite a nest of a thing; and beautifully did the blue smoke ascend, strongly relieved and brought out by the dark woodland. The ships in passing and repassing, sailed close to the door of this lonely dwelling, and would often, in fine weather, exchange salutations with its inmates. These inmates were Janet Smith and Nanny Nivison--the one old, and almost bedrid; the other young, and beautiful, and kind-hearted. Nanny, who was an orphan, lived with her grandmother; and, whilst she discharged the duties of a nurse, she was extremely efficient in earning their mutual subsistence. In these days, spinning-jennies were not; and many a fireside was enlivened by the whirr of the "big" or the birr of the "wee" wheel. The check-reel, with its cheerful click or challenge at every sixtieth revolution, was there; and the kitchen rafters were ornamented by suspended hanks of sale yarn. There sat, by a good, warm peat-fire, the aged and sleepy cat, winking contentment in both eyes, and prognosticating rain, by carefully washing her face with her fore-paw. There, too, in close alliance and perfect peacefulness, lay a blind cur-dog, who had known other days, and had followed to the field, if not some warlike lord, at least one of the lords of the creation, in the shape of John Nivison, who had been shot on the south range of the Galloway Hills for his adherence to the Covenant. His son Thomas, the brother of Nanny, had been long outlawed, and was supposed, even by his sister--his only sister--to have effected his escape to America. It was a beautiful and peaceful evening in the months of harvest--all was cheerfulness around. The mirthful band was employed, at no great distance, in cutting down and collecting into sheaves and stooks the abundant crop; and the husbandman, with his coat deposited in the hedge at the end of the field, was as busily employed as any of his band. The voice of man and woman, lad and lass, master and servant, was mixed in one continuous flow of rustic wit and rural jest. The surface of the Frith was smooth as glass, and the Galloway Hills looked down from heaven, and up from beneath, with brows of serenity and friendship. One or two vessels were tiding it up in the midst of the stream, with a motion scarcely perceptible. They had all sails set, and looked as if suspended in a glassy network, half-way betwixt heaven and earth. The sun shone westward, near to his setting, and the white and softly-rolled clouds only served to make the blue of a clear sky still more deep and lovely. The lassie wi' the lint-white locks spread over an eye of bonny blue-- "The little halcyon's azure plume Was never half so blue!"--