f a servant with the newspapers
produced a seasonable calm.

They lay, however, untouched upon the table till Mrs. Ramsay
requested some one to read over the claims that were putting in
for the King's coronation, and see if there was any mention of
hers.

"What is your claim?" said Mr. Sandford.

"To pyke the King's teeth," was the reply.

"You will think it very singular," said Mr. Guthrie, "that I
never heard of it before; will you tell us how it originated?"

"It was in the time of James the First," said she, "that monarch
cam to pay a visit to the monks of Arbroath, and they brought
him to Ferryden to eat a fish dinner at the house o' ane o' my
forefathers. The family name, ye ken, was Spelden, and the dried
fish was ca'd after them.

"The king was well satisfied wi' a' thing that was done to honor
him. He was a very polished prince, and when he had eaten his
dinner he turned round to the lady and sought a preen to pyke
his teeth.

"And the lady, she took a fish bane and wipit it, and gae it to
the king; and after he had cleaned his teeth wi' it, he said,
'_They're weel pykit._'

"And henceforth, continued he, the Speldins of Ferryden shall
pyke the king's teeth at the coronation. And it shall be done
wi' a fish-bone, and a pearl out o' the Southesk on the end of
it. And their crest shall be a lion's head wi' the teeth
displayed, and the motto shall be _weel pykit_."

Mr. Sandford read over the claims, but there was no notice given
of the Speldins.

"We maun just hae patience," said Mrs. Ramsay, "and nae doubt it
will appear in the next newspaper."

Some one inquired who was the present representative?

"It's me," replied Mrs. Ramsay Speldin; "and I mean to perform
the office mysel'. The estate wad hae been mine too, had it
existed; but Neptune, ye ken, is an ill neighbor, and the sea
has washed it a' away but a sand bunker or twa, and the house I
bide in at Ferryden."

At supper every one was eager to have a seat near Mrs. Ramsay
Speldin. She had a universal acquaintance, and she even knew Mr.
Sandford's mother, when he told her that her name was Catherine
Douglas. Mr. Sandford had in his own mind composed a letter to
Sir Walter Scott, which was to have been written and despatched
on the morrow, giving an account of this fine specim