nd so Sir Patrick Charteris retired, fully convinced he had discharged
the office of a comforter in the most satisfactory manner.

With very different impressions did the unfortunate lover regard the
tidings and listen to the consoling commentary.

"The provost," he said bitterly to himself, "is an excellent man; marry,
he holds his knighthood so high, that, if he speaks nonsense, a poor man
must hold it sense, as he must praise dead ale if it be handed to him
in his lordship's silver flagon. How would all this sound in another
situation? Suppose I were rolling down the steep descent of the
Corrichie Dhu, and before I came to the edge of the rock, comes my Lord
Provost, and cries: 'Henry, there is a deep precipice, and I grieve to
say you are in the fair way of rolling over it. But be not downcast,
for Heaven may send a stone or a bush to stop your progress. However, I
thought it would be comfort to you to know the worst, which you will
be presently aware of. I do not know how many hundred feet deep the
precipice descends, but you may form a judgment when you are at the
bottom, for certainty is certainty. And hark ye! when come you to take
a game at bowls?' And this gossip is to serve instead of any friendly
attempt to save the poor wight's neck! When I think of this, I could go
mad, seize my hammer, and break and destroy all around me. But I will
be calm; and if this Highland kite, who calls himself a falcon, should
stoop at my turtle dove, he shall know whether a burgess of Perth can
draw a bow or not."

It was now the Thursday before the fated Palm Sunday, and the champions
on either side were expected to arrive the next day, that they might
have the interval of Saturday to rest, refresh themselves, and prepare
for the combat. Two or three of each of the contending parties were
detached to receive directions about the encampment of their little
band, and such other instructions as might be necessary to the proper
ordering of the field. Henry was not, therefore, surprised at seeing a
tall and powerful Highlander peering anxiously about the wynd in which
he lived, in the manner in which the natives of a wild country examine
the curiosities of one that is more civilized. The smith's heart rose
against the man on account of his country, to which our Perth burgher
bore a natural prejudice, and more especially as he observed the
individual wear the plaid peculiar to the Clan Quhele. The sprig of oak
leaves, worked in sil