A Daughter of Fife

"Each on his own strict line we move

And some find death ere they find love,

So far apart their lives are thrown

From the twin soul that halves their own."

"Oh, nearest, farthest! Can there be

At length some hard-earned heart-won home,

Where--exile changed for Sanctuary--

Our lot may fill indeed its sum,

And you may wait and I may come?"

About twelve o'clock the wind rose, there was a rattling breeze and a

tossing sea all night; and David did not return until the early morning

tide. Allan was roused from sleep by young Johnson singing, "We cast our line in Largo Bay."

and soon after he heard David greet Maggie in an unusually cheerful

manner. He was impatient to tell him the good news, and he dressed

hurriedly, and went into the house place. Maggie was scattering the meal

into the boiling water for breakfast; and David, weary with his night

work, sat drowsing in his father's big chair. Maggie had already been out

in the fresh, wet breeze, and she had a pink kerchief tied over her hair;

but she blushed a deeper pink, as she shyly said, "Gude morning, sir."

Then David roused himself--"Hech, sir!" he cried, "I wish you had been wi'

us last night. It was just a joy to feel the clouds laying their cheeks to

the floods, and the sea laying its shouther to the shore; I sat a' night

wi' the helm-heft in my hand, singing o'er and o'er again King David's

grand sea sang-"The floods, O Lord, hae lifted up

They lifted up their voice;

The floods have lifted up their waves

And made a mighty noise.

But yet the Lord, that is on high,

Is more of might by far

Than noise of many waters is,

Or great sea-billows are."

[Footnote: Psalm 93. Version allowed by General Assembly of the Kirk of

Scotland.] "And I couldna help thinking," he continued, "that the Angels o' Power,

doing His will, wad be likely aye to tak' the sea road. It's freer o'

men-folk, and its mair fu' o' the glory o' God."

"I am glad you had such a grand night, David. It is well to take a fine

farewell of anything, and it was your last fishing. Dr. Balmuto sends you

this word about Glasgow University--'go, and the Lord go with thee.' He

has given me a letter to a professor there, who will choose the books you

want, and set you the lessons you are to learn between now and the opening

of the classes in September. The books are to be the doctor's gift to you.

He would hear tell of nothing else."

David was as one that dreams for a moment; but his excitement soon

conquered his happy amazement. He had to put his breakfast aside.