A LESSON IN BOTANY.


No lassie in all the hill country went forth more heart-whole
into the June morning than Winsome Charteris. She was not, indeed,
wholly a girl of the south uplands. Her grandmother was never done
reminding her of her "Englishy" ways, which, according to that
authority, she had contracted during those early years she had
spent in Cumberland. From thence she had been brought to the farm
town of Craig Ronald, soon after the death of her only uncle, Adam
Skirving--whose death, coming after the loss of her own mother,
had taken such an effect upon her grandfather that for years he
had seldom spoken, and now took little interest in the ongoings of
the farm.

Walter Skirving was one of a class far commoner in Galloway sixty
years ago than now. He was a "bonnet laird" of the best type, and
his farm, which included all kinds of soil--arable and pasture,
meadow and moor, hill pasture and wood--was of the value of about
L300 a year, a sum sufficient in those days to make him a man of
substance and consideration in the country.

He had been all his life, except for a single year in his youth
when he broke bounds, a Marrow man of the strictest type; and it
had been the wonder and puzzle of his life (to others, not to
himself) how he came to make up to Ailie Gordon, the daughter of
the old moss-trooping Lochenkit Gordons, that had ridden with the
laird of Redgauntlet in the killing time, and more recently had
been out with Maxwell of Nithsdale, and Gordon of Kenmure, to
strike a blow for the "King-over-the-Water." And to this very day,