288 THE HOME OF A NATURALIST. 



After she was a widow, and took up the profession 

 of sick-nurse, Kirsty wore douce black raiment, and 

 the orthodox white cap with crimped border, and black 

 kerchief over it. But in her middle age I remember 

 her as usually wearing a short skirt of blue serge, a 

 loose jacket (called a " slug "), woollen stockings of 

 her own knitting and rivlins (skin moccasins). A 

 crimson or blue kerchief, knotted under the chin, kept 

 her grizzled hair in place. Her features were rugged 

 and masculine, but well formed, and she had a frank 

 intelligent expression. 



Full of vitality, her energy never flagged, she was 

 never idle, and never untidy: — a wholesome, hearty 

 country woman who believed implicitly in herself, and 

 the Powers that be. The supernatural and the super- 

 stitious had become so twisted together in her mind 

 that it was vain to attempt showing her where the one 

 properly began and the other left off! — vain to dream 

 of convincing her, " wha kent the Bible weel frae brod 

 to brod," that witches, giants, evil spirits, miracles, 

 were obsolete. 



"What's been may be," was Kirsty's answer to all 

 one might say on such points: and of course there 

 was no reply possible when she affirmed, "My dear 

 that ye are, I care no' what them that's upon the earth 

 this day may declare. This I can say, by Him that 

 rules abune, and has tauld in His blessed Book hoo 

 Satan and a' his kind shall be let loose at the last o' 

 Time, I have seen and heard what I may no' name to 

 2/ou." 



