Her hall is called Grief.

Famine is her table, and her only servant is Delay.

Her gate is a precipice, her porch Faintness, her bed Leanness,--Cursing and Howling are her tent.

Her glance is dreadful and terrifying,--and her lips are blue with the venom of Hatred.' These words," he added, "sound finer in Norwegian, but I have given the meaning fairly." "Ma certes!" said Macfarlane chuckling.

"I'll tell my aunt in Glasgie aboot it.