by
another lawyer."

"And who was he?" asked Stewart. "He spoke sense at least."

I told him I must be excused from naming him, for he was a decent stout
old Whig, and had little mind to be mixed up in such affairs.

"I think all the world seems to be mixed up in it!" cries Stewart. "But
what said you?"

I told him what had passed between Rankeillor and myself before the
house of Shaws.

"Well, and so ye will hang!" said he. "Ye'll hang beside James Stewart.
There's your fortune told."

"I hope better of it yet than that," said I; "but I could never deny
there was a risk."

"Risk!" says he, and then sat silent again. "I ought to thank you for
your staunchness to my friends, to whom you show a very good spirit," he
says, "if you have the strength to stand by it. But I warn you that
you're wading deep. I wouldn't put myself in your place (me that's a
Stewart born!) for all the Stewarts that ever there were since Noah.
Risk? ay, I take over-many: but to be tried in court before a Campbell
jury and a Campbell judge, and that in a Campbell country, and upon a
Campbell quarrel--think what you like of me, Balfour, it's beyond me."
"It's a different way of thinking, I suppose," said I; "I was brought
up to this one by my father before me."

"Glory to his bones! he has left a decent son to his name," says he.
"Yet I would not have you judge me over-sorely. My case is dooms hard.
See, sir, ye tell me ye're a Whig: I wonder what I am. No Whig, to be
sure; I couldna be just that. But--laigh in your ear, man--I'm maybe no'
very keen on the other side."

"Is that a fact?" cried I. "It's what I would think of a man of your
intelligence."

"Hoot I none of your whillywhas!"[4] cries he. "There's intelligence
upon both sides. But for my private part I have no particular desire to
harm King George; and as for King James, God bless him! he does very
well for me across the water. I'm a lawyer, ye see: fond of my books and
my bottle, a good plea, a well-drawn deed, a crack in the Parliament
House with other lawyer bodies, and perhaps a turn at the golf on a
Saturday at e'en. Where do ye come in with your Hieland plaids and
claymores?"

"Well," said I, "it's a fact ye have little of the wild Highlandman."

"Little?" quoth he. "Nothing, man! And yet I'm Hieland born, and when
the clan pipes, who but me has to dance? The clan and the name, that
goes by all. It's just what you said yourself; my father learned it to
me, and a bo