Milton ower an' ower, though I dinna believe the half o't; but, oh!
weel I like some o' the bonny bitties at the en' o't."

"Il Penseroso, for instance?"

"Is that hoo ye ca't? I ken't weel by the sicht, but hardly by the
soun'. I aye missed the name o't, an' took to the thing itsel'.
Eh, man!--I beg yer pardon, sir--but its wonnerfu' bonny!"

"I'll come in some evening, and we'll have a chat about it," replied
Sutherland. "I must go to my work now."

"We'll a' be verra happy to see you, sir. Good mornin', sir."

"Good morning."

David went to the garden, where there was not much to be done in the
way of education at this season of the year; and Sutherland to the
school-room, where he was busy, all the rest of the morning and part
of the afternoon, with Caesar and Virgil, Algebra and Euclid; food
upon which intellectual babes are reared to the stature of college
youths.

Sutherland was himself only a youth; for he had gone early to
college, and had not yet quite completed the curriculum. He was now
filling up with teaching, the recess between his third and his
fourth winter at one of the Aberdeen Universities. He was the son
of an officer, belonging to the younger branch of a family of some
historic distinction and considerable wealth. This officer, though
not far removed from the estate and title as well, had nothing to