ppointment whilk your honour's father--"

"Do not call the phantom my father!" said Sir John, interrupting him.

"Well then, the thing that was so like him," said my gudesire; "he spoke
of my coming back to see him this time twelvemonth, and it's a weight on
my conscience."

"Aweel then," said Sir John, "if you be so much distressed in mind, you
may speak to our minister of the parish; he is a douce man, regards the
honour of our family, and the mair that he may look for some patronage
from me."

Wi' that, my father readily agreed that the receipt should be burnt; and
the laird threw it into the chimney with his ain hand. Burn it would
not for them, though; but away it flew up the lum, wi' a lang train of
sparks at its tail, and a hissing noise like a squib.

My gudesire gaed down to the manse, and the minister, when he had heard
the story, said it was his real opinion that, though my gudesire had
gane very far in tampering with dangerous matters, yet as he had refused
the devil's arles (for such was the offer of meat and drink), and had
refused to do homage by piping at his bidding, he hoped that, if he held
a circumspect walk hereafter, Satan could take little advantage by what
was come and gane. And, indeed, my gudesire, of his ain accord, lang
forswore baith the pipes and the brandy--it was not even till the year
was out, and the fatal day past, that he would so much as take the
fiddle or drink usquebaugh or tippenny.

Sir John made up his story about the jackanape as he liked himsell;
and some believe till this day there was no more in the matter than the
filching nature of the brute. Indeed, ye 'll no hinder some to thread
that it was nane o' the auld Enemy that Dougal and Hutcheon saw in the
laird's room, but only that wanchancie creature the major, capering on
the coffin; and that, as to the blawing on the laird's whistle that was
heard after he was dead, the filthy brute could do that as weel as the
laird himsell, if no better. But Heaven kens the truth, whilk first
came out by the minister's wife, after Sir John and her ain gudeman were
baith in the moulds. And then my gudesire, wha was failed in his limbs,
but not in his judgment or memory,--at least nothing to speak of,--was
obliged to tell the real narrative to his freends, for the credit of his
good name. He might else have been charged for a warlock.

The shades of evening were growing thicker around us as my conductor
finished his long narrative w