Hae mercy on his soul, oh God!
As he'd a-had, had he been God,
An ye'd been David Elginbrod."
Yes, there is food for thought here too. David must have been a queer one.
The sky grew darker, and the far-off woods faded into a cloud upon the horizon; the party rose, and in so doing regained their usual hilarity—forgot all about tombs and were off for a run hand-in-hand down the gentle slope to the valley, shouting and laughing in great glee—and so on over the pretty bridge to their delightful inn.
Douglas, July 20.
Edinburgh, Scotia's darling seat, only forty-four miles distant. All aboard, this pretty morning, for Edinburgh! "Right, Perry!" and off we went quite early through Douglas, for the capital. Our path was through woods for several miles, and we listened to the birds and saw and heard many of the incidents of morn so prettily described by Beattie:
"The wild brook babbling down the mountain-side,
The lowing herd; the sheep-fold's simple bell;