Various

“ As far as one could see across the moor it was one broad expanse of purply heather, kindled into a glowing crimson by the blaze of ruddy sunshine, and lighted here and there by bright patches of the thorny golden rod. Dame Nature had evidently painted out of her summer paint-box, and had not spared her best and brightest colours. Crimson-lake, children; you know what a lovely colour it is, and how fast it goes, for you are very fond of using it, and there is only one cake in each of your boxes. ”

“ Elsie's mind was so full of her own affairs that it was quite a shock to her to find that Duncan had taken so little heed of her words. "It's a good thing I'm not such a silly baby as you are," she said, contemptuously—a way in which she so often spoke to Duncan that he quite believed Elsie to be the cleverest, most daring, and bravest creature in existence.
"This place is like a furnace," she cried, irritably throwing the sheet which covered her down on to the floor. "Why should I be poked up here and Robbie sleep downstairs with mother and grandmother, eh, Duncan?" ”

“ Didn't I always say I'd love a long feather like the ladies at the manse? and why shouldn't I have one, and a silk pelisse, and gloves upon my hands, and sweet little shoes for walking in?"
"Why, you'd be just a lady," Duncan said.
Elsie laughed a pleased soft laugh. "A lady, just a bonny lady," she said over to herself; "and wouldn't you love to be a little laird, Duncan?"
"I don't know what it's like, Elsie," Duncan said thoughtfully.
"It isn't like fetching milk and sleeping in a loft," Elsie said sharply. "It isn't like porridge for breakfast and porridge for supper. ”

“ Elsie replied shortly; "and it's much more interesting than I thought it would be. It's about you and me."
"You and me?" echoed Duncan, who was of a matter-of-fact mind, and was always content with things just as he found them.
"Yes, stupid," said Elsie, crossly; "I always said mother favoured Robbie, and so she does. Why he has new things much oftener than you, and you're older too. Do you and me have boots and stockings for week-a-days? then why should Robbie? Don't you wonder why mother pets him so?"
"No," Duncan answered truthfully. "He's ever so much more babyish than me." ”

“ Paulina began to cry.
"If you make such a dreadful noise I shall fly away. Otherwise I shall stay, and tell you what to do in order to get Peter back."
"I will do anything in the world," said Paulina; "whatever you tell me to do I will at once do."
"There is but one thing to do—you must become an artist."
"That is impossible," sobbed Paulina. "What shall I do? What shall I do?"
"Take off that prim little cap. Tie up your hair with black ribbon, and put on a blouse. Then you will be an artist." ”

“ The young cuckoo is ever gaping for food, and for weeks the poor foster-parents are kept hard at work to supply its hunger. Why do they do so? Probably because they regard it as one of their own offspring, though they may have a sort of instinctive notion that there's something wrong; and so the weary round of fagging goes on until the cuckoo takes itself off to start life on its own account. So greedy, lazy, and thoroughly selfish, however, is this bird that after it has outgrown its nest, and is quite able to provide for itself, it will still look to its industrious comrades for its meals. ”

“ Duncan almost held his breath, for there were signs of a storm. Mrs. MacDougall's face was red, her mouth ominously screwed up; she waved her hand angrily towards them—an action which Elsie pretended not to see.
"Where have you been all this time, madam?" she burst forth, when they reached her. "I will teach you to hasten your footsteps. Did I not send Robbie to the gate to beckon you to be quick? You suppose you may do as you like, but you are mistaken, you lazy, ill-behaved wench. The new frock I had bought you shall be given to Nannie Cameron, and you shall wear your old one to the kirk. ”

“ It is not pleasant work to sit all night in a close little hot room, with the gas flaring, and to hear the din, and feel the rolling of the great machinery, while you have to read all sorts of things that you don't care much for, and haven't time to think about; but that is what the "reading-boy" has often to do, though he sometimes has a good deal of running up and down stairs, and now and then rushes out to fetch tea, bread-and-butter, bacon, and other things for the men, or for himself and his companions. ”

“ But contrary to what one might expect, the black, woolly-headed children of Nature show a strange distaste for glossy beads; so much so indeed, that the Venetians find it necessary to deaden the natural brilliancy which all glass obtains when it becomes cold, by grinding it, and thus softening the otherwise shining surface.
Notwithstanding all this, however, the bead industry of Venice is but a poorly-paid one; only the most skilful among the hands can manage to make a decent livelihood. Not very many of the women can earn more than about 41⁄2d. ”

“ Duncan remarked.
"A penny indeed!" laughed Elsie contemptuously. "I wonder whether you really could keep a secret, Duncan?"
Duncan was rather hurt at the implied doubt. "I never told tales of you, Elsie, never," he said, earnestly.
"Look here," Elsie exclaimed, "I was weeding my bit of garden just under the kitchen window yesterday, and granny was sitting at the window, yet never saw me. She was reading some old letters, peering at them ever so hard through her spectacles, and talking to herself all the time. ”

“ I thought perhaps that it was about that mother was angry with Elsie, but it wasn't, after all; you're sure of that, Duncan?"
"Oh no; it was about the milk," Duncan returned, readily.
"And Elsie's asleep now. Well, well, youth must be chastised sometimes," crooned the old woman, softly. "You needn't talk about the paper I've lost, Duncan. It's safe enough in the fire, no doubt; but if you see a scrap of paper lying anywhere, bring it to grandmother, and she'll give you a penny for sharp eyes." ”

“ Any one who is standing there may hear a curious buzzing, and now and then a dull thump, and looking about may see more than one big building with its windows all aglow, and the shadows of people moving across them. Now and then a door will open, and a lad, perhaps without a cap, and with his jacket tied round his neck by the sleeves, will rush out as though the place were on fire and he had been sent to fetch an engine. ”

“ Agnes added wistfully.
"Well, my dear, your uncle is not quite like other people. He suffers a great deal with his nerves, and he has had a many sorrows, which he keeps all to himself; but he's the most just and most generous gentleman in the world, and I'm sure he will be very kind to you; only you must do just what he says, my dear. All the troubles in the world came of disobedience, I think, and have done so since the Garden of Eden. If poor Mr. Frank had only——but there, what is the use of talking?" and Mrs. Mittens sighed.
"Did you know my father, ma'am?" ”

“ They reached the cottage in good time. Robbie and their grandmother had only just come downstairs. Mrs. MacDougall seemed to be in an unusually pleasant temper this morning. "I'm glad you've hastened, my child," she said to Elsie. "Sit down to the table, and get slicing that cucumber I've just cut. It'll be more refreshing with some bread-and-butter and a cup o' milk than the porridge, and a change too."
Duncan glanced at Elsie with a half shame-faced expression, as much as to say, "Mother is kind, you see, when you're good. She's sorry you had to be beaten last night." ”

“ Perhaps their mother did not care to trust the little fellow with Elsie, knowing too well that she was thoughtless, and unable in her own robust strength to understand the fatigue and listlessness of her little brother. Elsie told him he would run well enough without shoes and stockings, but their mother had most particularly charged him that he was never to take them off without special permission, for he was too delicate to run the risk of damping his feet. Elsie and Duncan thought it great nonsense, and both pitied and despised Robbie for being such a miserable molly-coddle. ”

“ But it's those dear little wild things that seem to grow here just to make us happy that I love best. I prefer painting flowers to anything."
"I don't; great artists never trouble about flowers," Eddie said, joining them. "When I grow up, I'll paint splendid figures and grand scenes, like the 'Raising of Lazarus,' or the 'Descent from the Cross': those are the kind of pictures great men love to paint and the world to look at."
"But Uncle Clair says people can't paint like the old masters now, and that no one would buy their pictures if they did," Agnes replied. ”

“ Eddie started from a reverie, and looked questioningly at his brother. "Aunt Amy? what put her into your head, Bert?"
"I don't know, I'm sure, unless it's Uncle Frank. Don't you think it's very funny to have a lot of relations you never see, hear from, or speak about—very exciting, too, to have cousins drop in on you when you least expect it. I hope, Ned, when you're master of Riversdale, you won't banish me, and forget my very existence till I'm dead. What did Aunt Amy do, I wonder?"
"She married some one papa did not approve of—an artist, I think: that's all," Eddie said gravely. ”

“ The girl started guiltily; she had seen nothing of Miss Agnes all the evening; so Bertie began a hunt over the house for her, and found her at last in the dining-room alone.
"Oh, Agnes! what shall we do? Poor papa!" he cried, bursting into tears; and she clung to him, weeping too, but trying to comfort him, and then brokenly he told her all that had happened. At five o'clock Mr. Rivers became suddenly worse. The doctor had stayed with him, and only sent home his carriage, and when he saw the change he sent for the boys at once. Eddie was in the library, Bertie was out in the grounds. ”

“ I shall call her 'she.' You can call her what you like. Why does she pretend to be our mother when she isn't? It's different with granny, 'cos she's our granny right enough. Didn't I hear her say 'Meg 'ud rue it?' It's a shame to have made a secret of it."
Duncan had been turning it over in his poor little mind. He formed ideas very slowly, but there was often more sense in them when formed than in the quick conclusions of cleverer children.
"But if Uncle Grosvenor is our father, Elsie, why don't we live with him? He never's been to see us, never. ”

“ They knew well enough why, for they had heard the tale often enough. Their Aunt Nannie had been their mother's beautiful young sister, and the news of her death had come to them when Robbie was a baby of a week old. They had never even seen her, for Duncan was but a year old, and Elsie not three, when she died, and she had been living in England with her English husband at the time.
"Robbie reminds me so of her," Mrs. MacDougall said softly. "She was fair. He takes after her wonderfully, doesn't he, mother?" ”

“ Even polenta, that very frugal Italian national dish, is for them only a Sunday's treat; the rest of the week nature provides them with turnips and other roots, great piles of which, cooked on an open hearth, greet us in all the streets of Venice, where they are eagerly devoured by the hungry crowd. ”

“ But what was the matter now?"
"It was about fetching the milk," Duncan replied. "Elsie don't like it, and she wouldn't be quick."
"Eh, well; but it's the place of the young to fetch and carry," said the old woman, in a much more cheerful tone than she had used before. "But Duncan, my laddie, have you picked up a wee bit of paper with writing on it, what grandmother has dropped?"
"No, granny, I haven't never picked up a piece," Duncan replied.
"Nor seen it lying about neither, dearie? Come now, think if you picked it up and threw it in the fire. I won't be angry if you tell the truth." ”

“ Elsie replied, sulkily, only she said it in a broad Scottish accent which you would hardly have understood had you heard it, and certainly could make nothing of if I were to try to write it.
"Then we'll get beaten when we get back," Duncan said, miserably. "Mother's always scolding, and it's your fault, Elsie."
Elsie looked at him contemptuously. "Go on by yourself," she cried; "I ain't afraid. It's only Robbie that they're in such a hurry to get the milk for, and I'm not going to hurry for Robbie. Go on by yourself, do." ”

“ Mount to the seat and paint as fast as you can, for if the painting is not finished before the stars come out, Peter will never come home again."
Paulina scrambled up; she took the palette in one hand, the brush in the other, and began to put on the colour as fast as she could. She did not take any pains, but dabbed away, beginning in the left-hand corner. She scarcely looked at what she was doing; but somehow or other it answered, and the picture progressed rapidly. Paulina herself was surprised, but she knew that she must lose no time, for the stars were only waiting for the twilight. ”

“ The tit-bit having been greedily snatched and devoured, the cuckoo would peck fiercely at its tiny attendant—bidding it, as it were, fetch more food and not be long about it. Wordsworth tells us in a famous line that "the child is father of the man," and no apter illustration of this truth could be found than the cuckoo. Let us trace his early life history, and to begin with, peep into, say, a wagtail's nest. It contains a few eggs all seemingly alike. In due time they are hatched, and you at once notice that one of the baby birds is quite different from the rest. ”

“ Should he ask that he might plant his feet upon the neck of all his enemies, not one daring to raise up a finger against him? Or should he desire that the vast riches, that had been heaped up by his father during his long and victorious wars, and that had been left to him, might be still further increased, and that he might be the richest and grandest king on the face of the earth? ”