CHAPTER XIV.
Oh, wad some pow'r the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
And foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
A few days after Erskine's departure, Mrs. Harvey entered Jane's room hastily,—"Our village," she exclaimed, "is the most extraordinary place in the world; wonders cease to be wonderful among us."
"What has happened now?" inquired Jane, "I know not from your face whether to expect good or evil."
"Oh evil, my dear, evil enough to grieve and frighten you. Your wretched cousin David Wilson has got himself into a scrape at last, from which all the arts of all his family cannot extricate him. You know," she continued, "that we saw an account in the New-York paper of last week, of a robbery committed on the mail-stage: the robbers have been detected and taken, and Wilson, who it
