would not hear of resigning the dignity of town piper.

"That's fine, daddy," returned the youth. "Wull I mak oot the
parritch? I'm thinkin ye've had eneuch o' hingin' ower the fire
this het mornin'."

"No, sir," answered Duncan. "She'll pe perfectly able to make ta
parritch herself, my poy Malcolm. Ta tay will tawn when her poy
must make his own parritch, an' she'll be wantin' no more parritch,
but haf to trink ta rainwater, and no trop of ta uisgebeatha to
put into it, my poy Malcolm."

His grandson was quite accustomed to the old man's heathenish
mode of regarding his immediate existence after death as a long
confinement in the grave, and generally had a word or two ready
wherewith to combat the frightful notion; but, as he spoke, Duncan
lifted the pot from the fire, and set it on its three legs on the
deal table in the middle of the room, adding:

"Tere, my man--tere's ta parritch! And was it ta putter, or ta
traicle, or ta pottle o' peer, she would be havin' for kitchie tis
fine mornin'?"

This point settled, the two sat down to eat their breakfast; and
no one would have discovered, from the manner in which the old
man helped himself, nor yet from the look of his eyes, that he was
stone blind. It came neither of old age nor disease--he had been
born blind. His eyes, although large and wide, looked like those
of a sleep walker--open with shut sense; the shine in them was
all reflected light--glitter, no glow; and their colour was so