The Highland monthly - National Library of Scotland

Willie Gillies. 13;
—who, in truth, could not be said to die, but to be trans-
lated. I doubt the spiritual affinity between children and
parents. Souls, like faults, in many instances, appear to be
personal—to belong to the individual stamp exclusively.
My brother is not a bad fellow as the world goes, and my
sister-in-law is an admirable person, and my general
adviser ; but how little seemed in common between them
and the angel child, except that human affection which
makes families and all the world kin ?
I am straying again. Well, the long and the short of it
is, that for satisfactory study and relieving my brother of
the burden of which he never complained, I took a nice cot-
tage for myself, on the outskirts of a country town not far
from my brother's farm. For a sensible woman, as she is,
my sister-in-law upon this occasion was quite unreasonable.
She disapproved of the plan, and reproached me with want
of affection in leaving them. I was moved by her
reproaches and grief to the extent that I would have given
up my plan and forfeited a year's rent if I had not formed
a little scheme which was then a secret to all but myself.
When she saw that I was firm she yielded with a good
grace, set about furnishing my cottage with her usual
vigour, and completely forgot all her vexation in making
hard bargains with the upholsterers and tradesmen. I
handed to her my purse (my first year's salary opportunely
replenished it) and when all was finished to her taste, she
ushered me with some ceremony into my new abode, and
returned the purse, which was not empty, as I had good
cause to expect. We had a little party to celebrate the
event. My sister-in-law was a bit proud of her handiwork,
and drew more attention than was necessary to every
article of furniture in succession. Among other things she
begged me to notice the easy chair on the right side of the
fire as my seat of honour and meditation, " and there," she
said, pointing to a low-rocking chair opposite, " is the
place of your wife, if you give up your brown sheep-skins
(she meant parchments) and stinking old books, and, like a