Dr. Guthrie shook hands long and warmly with Sir John, and they had plenty of time; and when Dr. Guthrie did speak, it was with a “forty parson” power. He excelled himself, enchained his audience, and that soiree is a “red-letter” day in Blinkbonny Free Church annals.
Bell said it was “awfu’ splendid,”—“just magnificent,”—“it beat everything,”—“she just couldna say what it wasna,—it was ‘maist awfu’, awfu’ splendid!”
THE ANGEL’S WHISPER.
By Samuel Lover.
A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland, that when a child smiles in its sleep it is “talking with angels.”
A baby was sleeping, its mother was weeping,
For her husband was far on the wild raging sea,
And the tempest was swelling round the fisherman’s dwelling,
And she cried, “Dermot, darling, oh, come back to me!”
Her beads while she number’d, the baby still slumber’d,