Laird, I hae an inklin' that Providence has some guid use for me yet." "It's a risk, woman. "What way, Laird?” "Just because we had a gentleman ca'ing on us last week, an' he had been someplace an' saw a newspaper, and there was news in't sayin' that twenty-three Rushiuns had been kilt by electric telegraph." "Ou, ay, but that's far awa', Laird; forby, it must hae been some mismanagement." "Weel, that micht be, but-I wadna heed aboot it. I wad rather gang by the steam-coach.” "Maybe ye wad, Laird, but it's a heap cheaper by the telegraph; besides, it's only a maitter o' twa or three meenits, and ye're clappit doon in Lunnon. I intend being back the morn's nicht. I lea' this wi' the first 'bus in the mornin'." "Ay, and what time does it start?" "The 'bus?" " No, the telegraph." "Ou, they tell me they'll send ye off as soon's ye enter the office, and a' the charge is three shillin's." "Ay, Chirsty, it's wonderfu'! Ay, but, preserve us! I think I wad rather tak' the steam-coach, as I said before, though, for my part, I don't think I'll ever need ony o' them." "Weel, maybe no, Laird; but ye see riches bring their troubles wi' them, though, to be sure, they have their comforts too. I was thinking, Laird," said Chirsty, with an air of peculiar condescension, "tho' ye ken it gangs ill ower wi' me--I was thinkin' if ye could lend me the sum o' five or six shillin's mair to tak' me up an' doon. I could just pey ye a'thegither when I come back with the siller. I've nae doot there's plenty of folk in the village wad be prood o' the honour; but wad I condescend! Na, na, Laird; them that will gloom at me under a cloud winna get smilin' at me in sunshine. I wad rather tak' it frae you (and Chirsty lowered her voice and got wonderfully confidential) as twice as muckle frae ony sic turn-coats." The Laird, of course, could not but comply with such a patronising appeal; and Chirsty, after having borrowed the requisite money for her journey, departed to make further preparations, assuring the Laird that he should always find them the same. Next morning dawned clear and sunshiny, and the seven o'clock chime found Chirsty safely exalted on that unaristocratic portion of the 'bus, beside the driver, vulgarly called the "dickey," and Chirsty's John stood on the pavement, beside the 'bus officer, watching her every move 66 66 ment with feelings of the deepest anxiety. "Will ye dae, Chirsty?" cried John, with a look of the deepest solicitude, as the business half of him squeezed herself unceremoniously in between the end of the seat and an old gentleman of immensely corpulent proportions. "Hech, but it's sair wark! said Chirsty, as she elbowed her way into the seat, considerably to the annoyance of her great travelling companion. "I doot they're squeezin' ye?" said John, sympathetically. "Och, och, ay; but if some folk were like ordinar' folk," giving a side glance at the great man, we wad a' hae plenty o' room." Hey, man! wad ye ease ower a wee?" said John, addressing the driver. "My wife's squeezed." The driver gave a patronising smile, and kept his seat. "Never mind, John, it's easy seen what sort o' passengers they carry-there's nae provision made for the better kin' o' folk. We'll need tae excuse them." "I'll tell you what it is, honest woman," said the large gentleman on the box, reddening with indignation and the force of Chirsty's elbows; "if you come here and crush yourself into quarters where there's no room for you, and then give impudence over and above, we'll have you unseated immediately." "My certes! but ye speak big, sir. If they carry you for a single fare there sudna be a humbler man in the 'bus; but its aye yer kin' that's the noisiest," continued Chirsty, punching her elbow further into his side. "Murder! driver, I tell you I can't bear this; you're not licensed to carry tigers, are you?" "No, it's honest folk, guid man; so the sooner ye're doon the better, baith for yersel' and the lave o' the passengers." Ominous movements were being made. The stout man, not finding himself a match for Chirsty in the scolding department, was about to draw his stick. The interference of the driver, however, brought hostilities to a close, and the last horn was about to be sounded. Chirsty had recovered somewhat, and was beginning to reflect calmly, when suddenly a want came to her remembrance. "Conscience! John, I forgot my lace mantle!" cried Chirsty, vehemently. John, as if electrified, turned himself homeward. "Rin man, rin, ye'll fin' it in the auld closet behint the kitchen door; rin for yer life, or I'll be lost on the telegraph." John was not the man to require a second bid ding, especially when the command came from such an authority as his wife, and off he ran with wonderful alacrity, while the coach-guard blew the ominous sounds of departure. John had got some distance from the coach, but still within view, when, suddenly turning a corner, the smith's athletic collie, happening to be exactly of the same mind as himself, but coming from a different quarter, they came into serious collision, and John went right over him into a dirty heap of mud which, unhappily, had been collected at the corner; while off ran the collie, wagging his unshapely tail, in a state of the most ecstatic satisfaction. John did not gather himself for a few seconds, and ere he had full time to gain his equilibrium, the last notes of the horn had sounded, and the horses moved off, while the great man on the dickey, much to the injury of Chirsty's feelings, smirked over the misfortune tremendously, and, forgetting his own aching sides, chuckled maliciously the whole way into the city. The great clocks had just measured out in their most effective tones the hour of mid-day, and the streets were heaving with the vast tide of fashionable humanity taking its sunshiny promenade, when Chirsty-plain-stuffgowned, white-mutched, tartan-shawled Chirsty-passed up the most fashionable thoroughfare, and soon was making her curious demands at the door of the "Electric Telegraph Office." "Weel, mistress, what is't?" said the boy on opening the door. "What is't? ye impident scaur-crow ! is that a' the mainners ye hae? Is yer maister no in?" No, mem; but come ben and he'll soon be." "When does the first telegraph start?" said Chirsty, addressing one of the clerks. "First telegraph? what do ye mean, mem?” “I just mean the first telegraph. What wud I mean?" "Do you intend sending a message?" No, but ye'll send me, and I'll carry the message mysel' ?" The clerks looked puzzled. "Where are you going?" "To Lunnon." "Oh! then, mem, you mean the railway?" "If I meant the railway dae ye think I'd come here; there's a guid ane. I want a ticket for the telegraph, and there's three shillin's. as fast as ye can." 66 So be All the clerks had gathered round, and, seeing Chirsty's ludicrous deception, the office was soon echoing with 66 laughter. "When does the first telegraph start, I tell ye?" said Chirsty, getting angry. (A roar from the clerks.) At last a more serious youth came forward and endeavoured to show her her error. "You are labouring under a very great mistake, my good woman. We can only send messages." "Weel, weel, can ye no send me with ane ?" (Another roar from the clerks.) "No, mem, we work this peculiar process of transmitting the messages by the passage of the electric fluid along the wires." Toots, ay. Electric nonsense! Nane o' yer smoothfaced havers, but gie us a ticket." "It's only words we send," persisted the youth. Weel, weel, ye man send somebody wi' the words; so there's three shillin's, and awa' wi' me; I might hae been there by this time." "Since she is so determined to go, can't we give her a trial?" said one of the youths, in humorous mood. "We can let her hold on by the battery for a few seconds, and see how she likes it, though I can assure ye, mistress, its none o' the pleasantest ways o' travelling." Never you fret aboot that, if I gie in the faut's no yours; gie me the ticket, and I'll gie you the siller." 66 66 The clerk now hurriedly scribbled some mysterious hieroglyphics on a piece of paper, pocketed the three shillings, and led the way to the region of the sunk flat, with half-a-dozen clerks bringing up the rear to see Chirsty taking her departure. The apartment was dimly lighted by a diminutive blink of gas in a corner. Chirsty looked for the carriage by which she was to accomplish the journey, but nothing was seen corresponding to her pre-conceived notions of an electric trip. "You'll better take your stand here," said the leader, directing her to a small platform. "But you'll require to stand all the way, unfortunately." 'Weel, weel, for a' the time it's nae odds. Awa' wi't as fast as ye can." Her guide now handed her two massive keys, to which were fastened two electric wires. "What's this?" said Chirsty, examining the keys. "Hold them fast!" cried the clerk. "If you lose those you'll not get out at the other side." "Ay, exackwilly; and ye'll be ready when I come back again ?" "Of course." "Weel, awa' wi't." Her conductor touched one of the batteries, and sent a slight flow of electricity up the wire. Chirsty looked uneasy, but still held the keys. "If you should feel unable for the journey," said the clerk, still adding more electricity, "you can just tell us, and we'll bring you back." "Ay-ay-ay-is't awa'-a-yet, eh ?" "Yes, its just off." "Och!-mercy!" Chirsty began to think of the poor Russians, and all her ill-doings flashed up before her mind in a moment. The gas was now screwed out, and the apartment was left in darkness, and Chirsty was groaning frightfully under the shock. "Oh! dear-dear-dear, am I near Lunnon yet?" "Not half-way," cried a faint voice from the other end of the room. Another touch of electricity was added. “Oh, murder! murder! I'm no prepared to dee. It's ower muckle for me. Oh, dear, let me back; let me back. Murder, murder. I'll no ask the three shillin's. Oh-o-o- -o-dear." A few seconds elapsed before the sportive clerks yielded to her entreaties. "You are no traveller at all, good woman," said the conductor, as he threw off the fluid. "Traveller! Guidness preserve us! the thing was trailin' me. Certes, I hae maist lost the arms." Oh, yes; but people must put up with little inconveniences now and again." "If ye hinna a mair comfortable passage than that, guid man, I doot ye'll soon lose yer custom. Let me oot. I'm past gaun tae Lunnon 66 for a wee at ony rate." A back door was opened, and a figure was thrust into the street. Meantime, Christy's "dickey" seat is secured for home, and her twenty pound fortune is still in the hands of the London banker. Faithless Sally Brown. YOUNG BEN he was a nice young man, A carpenter by trade; And he fell in love with Sally Brown, That was a lady's maid. But as they fetch'd a walk one day, They met a press-gang crew; The Boatswain swore with wicked words, |