fterwards to Mysie, "that wad hae
made a fu' man hungry, and them to sit there laughing at it!"

"But," said Miss Ashton, composing her countenance as well as she could,
"are all these delicacies so totally destroyed that no scrap can be
collected?"

"Collected, my leddy! what wad ye collect out of the sute and the ass?
Ye may gang down yoursell, and look into our kitchen--the cookmaid in
the trembling exies--the gude vivers lying a' about--beef, capons, and
white broth--florentine and flams--bacon wi' reverence--and a' the sweet
confections and whim-whams--ye'll see them a', my leddy--that is," said
he, correcting himself, "ye'll no see ony of them now, for the cook
has soopit them up, as was weel her part; but ye'll see the white broth
where it was spilt. I pat my fingers in it, and it tastes as like sour
milk as ony thing else; if that isna the effect of thunner, I kenna what
is. This gentleman here couldna but hear the clash of our haill dishes,
china and silver thegither?"

The Lord Keeper's domestic, though a statesman's attendant, and of
course trained to command his countenance upon all occasions, was
somewhat discomposed by this appeal, to which he only answered by a bow.

"I think, Mr. Butler," said the Lord Keeper, who began to be afraid lest
the prolongation of this scene should at length displease Ravenswood--"I
think that, were you to retire with my servant Lockhard--he has
travelled, and is quite accustomed to accidents and contingencies of
every kind, and I hope betwixt you, you may find out some mode of supply
at this emergency."

"His honour kens," said Caleb, who, however hopeless of himself
of accomplishing what was desirable, would, like the high-spirited
elephant, rather have died in the effort than brooked the aid of a
brother in commission--"his honour kens weel I need nae counsellor, when
the honour of the house is concerned."

"I should be unjust if I denied it, Caleb," said his master; "but your
art lies chiefly in making apologies, upon which we can no more dine
than upon the bill of fare of our thunder-blasted dinner. Now, possibly
Mr. Lockhard's talent may consist in finding some substitute for that
which certainly is not, and has in all probability never been."

"Your honour is pleased to be facetious," said Caleb, "but I am sure
that, for the warst, for a walk as far as Wolf's Hope, I could dine
forty men--no that the folk there deserve your honour's custom. They hae
been ill advi