s Henry Smith termed it, they saw the Oliver meet with
a Rowland. But when the bonnet maker's adversary was seen to bestride
him, and handle him in the manner described, the armourer could hold out
no longer.

"Please you, good Master Bailie, I cannot endure to see our townsman
beaten and rifled, and like to be murdered before us all. It reflects
upon the Fair Town, and if it is neighbour Proudfute's misfortune, it is
our shame. I must to his rescue."

"We will all go to his rescue," answered Bailie Craigdallie; "but let no
man strike without order from me. We have more feuds on our hands, it is
to be feared, than we have strength to bring to good end. And therefore
I charge you all, more especially you, Henry of the Wynd, in the name of
the Fair City, that you make no stroke but in self defence."

They all advanced, therefore, in a body; and the appearance of such a
number drove the plunderer from his booty. He stood at gaze, however, at
some distance, like the wolf, which, though it retreats before the dogs,
cannot be brought to absolute flight.

Henry, seeing this state of things, spurred his horse and advanced far
before the rest of the party, up towards the scene of Oliver Proudfute's
misfortune. His first task was to catch Jezabel by the flowing rein, and
his next to lead her to meet her discomfited master, who was crippling
towards him, his clothes much soiled with his fall, his eyes streaming
with tears, from pain as well as mortification, and altogether
exhibiting an aspect so unlike the spruce and dapper importance of
his ordinary appearance, that the honest smith felt compassion for
the little man, and some remorse at having left him exposed to such
disgrace. All men, I believe, enjoy an ill natured joke. The difference
is, that an ill natured person can drink out to the very dregs the
amusement which it affords, while the better moulded mind soon loses the
sense of the ridiculous in sympathy for the pain of the sufferer.

"Let me pitch you up to your saddle again, neighbour," said the smith,
dismounting at the same time, and assisting Oliver to scramble into his
war saddle, as a monkey might have done.

"May God forgive you, neighbour Smith, for not backing of me! I would
not have believed in it, though fifty credible witnesses had sworn it of
you."

Such were the first words, spoken in sorrow more than anger, by which
the dismayed Oliver vented his feelings.

"The bailie kept hold of my horse by th