her head, bearing herself so erect, and stepping so light and free
under her burden, that it seemed rather an ornament than an encumbrance. The
lads of the neighbouring suburb, who held their evening rendezvous for putting
the stone, casting the hammer, playing at long bowls, and other athletic
exercises, watched the motions of Effie Deans, and contended with each other
which should have the good fortune to attract her attention. Even the rigid
Presbyterians of her father's persuasion, who held each indulgence of the eye
and sense to be a snare at least if not a crime, were surprised into a moment's
delight while gazing on a creature so exquisite, - instantly checked by a sigh,
reproaching at once their own weakness, and mourning that a creature so fair
should share in the common and hereditary guilt and imperfection of our nature.
She was currently entitled the Lily of St. Leonard's, a name which she deserved
as much by her guileless purity of thought, speech, and action, as by her
uncommon loveliness of face and person.
    Yet there were points in Effie's character which gave rise not only to
strange doubt and anxiety on the part of Douce David Deans, whose ideas were
rigid, as may easily be supposed, upon the subject of youthful amusements, but
even of serious apprehension to her more indulgent sister. The children of the
Scotch of the inferior classes are usually spoiled by the early indulgence of
their parents; how, wherefore, and to what degree, the lively and instructive
narrative of the amiable and accomplished authoress of »Glenburnie« has saved me
and all future scribblers the trouble of recording. Effie had had a double share
of this inconsiderate and misjudged kindness. Even the strictness of her
father's principles could not condemn the sports of infancy and childhood; and
to the good old man, his younger daughter, the child of his old age, seemed a
child for some years after she attained the years of womanhood, was still called
the »bit lassie,« and »little Effie,« and was permitted to run up and down
uncontrolled, unless upon the Sabbath, or at the times of family worship. Her
sister, with all the love and care of a mother, could not be supposed to possess
the same authoritative influence; and that which she had hitherto exercised
became gradually limited and diminished as Effie's advancing years entitled her,
in her own conceit at least, to the right of independence and free agency. With
all the innocence and goodness of disposition, therefore, which we have
described, the Lily of