hou hast not spoiled as many suits of armour as thou hast made."

"Why, he would be a bad armourer, father Simon, that could not with
his own blow make proof of his own workmanship. If I did not sometimes
cleave a helmet, or strike a point through a harness, I should not know
what strength of fabric to give them; and might jingle together such
pasteboard work as yonder Edinburgh smiths think not shame to put out of
their hands."

"Aha, now would I lay a gold crown thou hast had a quarrel with some
Edinburgh 'burn the wind' upon that very ground?"

["Burn the wind," an old cant term for blacksmith, appears in Burns:

Then burnewin came on like death, At every chaup, etc.]

"A quarrel! no, father," replied the Perth armourer, "but a measuring
of swords with such a one upon St. Leonard's Crags, for the honour of
my bonny city, I confess. Surely you do not think I would quarrel with a
brother craftsman?"

"Ah, to a surety, no. But how did your brother craftman come off?"

"Why, as one with a sheet of paper on his bosom might come off from the
stroke of a lance; or rather, indeed, he came not off at all, for, when
I left him, he was lying in the Hermit's Lodge daily expecting death,
for which Father Gervis said he was in heavenly preparation."

"Well, any more measuring of weapons?" said the glover.

"Why, truly, I fought an Englishman at Berwick besides, on the old
question of the supremacy, as they call it--I am sure you would not have
me slack at that debate?--and I had the luck to hurt him on the left
knee."

"Well done for St. Andrew! to it again. Whom next had you to deal with?"
said Simon, laughing at the exploits of his pacific friend.

"I fought a Scotchman in the Torwood," answered Henry Smith, "upon a
doubt which was the better swordsman, which, you are aware, could not be
known or decided without a trial. The poor fellow lost two fingers."

"Pretty well for the most peaceful lad in Perth, who never touches a
sword but in the way of his profession. Well, anything more to tell us?"

"Little; for the drubbing of a Highlandman is a thing not worth
mentioning."

"For what didst thou drub him, O man of peace?" inquired the glover.

"For nothing that I can remember," replied the smith, "except his
presenting himself on the south side of Stirling Bridge."

"Well, here is to thee, and thou art welcome to me after all these
exploits. Conachar, bestir thee. Let the cans clink, lad, and thou shalt
have a