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"It's travell'd earth that," said Edie, "it howks gae eithly I ken it weel, for ance I wrought a simmer wi' auld Will Winnet, the bedral, and howkit mair graves than ane in my day; but I left him in winter, for it was unco cald wark; and then it cam a green Yule, and the folk died thick and fast for ye ken a green Yule makes a fat kirkyard; and I never dowed to bide a hard turn o' wark in my life sae aff I gaed, and left Will to delve his last dwellings by himsell for Edie."

"It's travell'd earth that," said Edie, "it howks gae eithly I ken it weel, for ance I wrought a simmer wi' auld Will Winnet, the bedral, and howkit mair graves than ane in my day; but I left him in winter, for it was unco cald wark; and then it cam a green Yule, and the folk died thick and fast for ye ken a green Yule makes a fat kirkyard; and I never dowed to bide a hard turn o' wark in my life sae aff I gaed, and left Will to delve his last dwellings by himsell for Edie."

Modern Italy had her classical authors, and Spain had every right to believe that she also had hers at a time when France was yet seeking hers. A few talented writers en dowed with originality and exceptional animation, a few brilliant efforts, isolated, without following, interrupted and recommenced, did not suffice to endow a nation with a solid and imposing basis of literary wealth.