_"When ye're my ain goodwife, lassie,
What'll ye bring to me?
A hantle o'siller, a stockin' o' gowd?
'I haena ae bawbee.'_

_"When ye are my ain goodwife, lassie,
And sit at my fireside,
Will the red and white meet in your face?
'Na! ye'll no get a bonnie bride.'_

_"But gin ye're my ain goodwife, lassie,
Mine for gude an' ill,
Will ye bring me three things lassie,
My empty hame to fill?"_

_"A temper sweet, a silent tongue,
A heart baith warm and free?
Then I'll marry ye the morn, lassie,
And loe ye till I dee."_


Avonsbridge lay still deep in February snow, for it was the severest
winter which had been known there for many years. But any one who
is acquainted with the place must allow that it never looks better or
more beautiful than in a fierce winter frost--too fierce to melt the snow;
when, in early morning, you may pass from college to college, over
quadrangles, courts, and gardens, and your own footsteps will be the
only mark on the white untrodden carpet, which lies glittering and
dazzling before you, pure and beautiful as even country snow.