the beuk."

Meg's mother stood at the cottage door, with arms akimbo and clouded
brow, calling through the boles of a little forest of fir-trees
after her daughter. One would naturally presume that the phrase she
employed, comparing her daughter's motions to those of a shuttle
that had "gane wull," or lost its way, implied that she was watching
her as she threaded her way through the trees. But although she
could not see her, the fir-wood was certainly the likeliest place
for her daughter to be in; and the figure she employed was not in
the least inapplicable to Meg's usual mode of wandering through the
trees, that operation being commonly performed in the most erratic
manner possible. It was the ordinary occupation of the first hour
of almost every day of Margaret's life. As soon as she woke in the
morning, the fir-wood drew her towards it, and she rose and went.
Through its crowd of slender pillars, she strayed hither and
thither, in an aimless manner, as if resignedly haunting the
neighbourhood of something she had lost, or, hopefully, that of a
treasure she expected one day to find.

It did not seem that she had heard her mother's call, for no
response followed; and Janet Elginbrod returned into the cottage,
where David of the same surname, who was already seated at the white
deal table with "the beuk," or large family bible before him,
straightway commenced reading a chapter in the usual routine from
the Old Testament, the New being reserved for the evening devotions.
The chapter was the fortieth of the prophet Isaiah; and as the
voice of the reader re-uttered the words of old inspiration, one
might have thought that it was the voice of the ancient prophet
himself, pouring forth the expression of his own faith in his