of a goodly file of servants and hirelings—intending so to labour, from morning to night, with as much zeal and assiduity as I could look for from any of them, as well to prosper the work by my own exertion as to animate the workers by my example—when, lo! my resolutions were overthrown in a moment, by the simple fact of my brother's running up to me and putting into my hand a small parcel, just arrived from London, which I had been for some time expecting. I tore off the cover, and disclosed an elegant and portable edition of "Marmion."
"I guess, I know who that's for," said Fergus, who stood looking on while I complacently examined the volume. "That's for Miss Eliza, now."
He pronounced this with a tone and look so prodigiously knowing, that I was glad to contradict him.
"Your'e wrong my lad," said I; and taking up my coat, I deposited the book in one of its
