ountered him once more. We had not fought long at this second turn
before I saw a man hastening towards us; on which I uttered a shout of
joy, and laid on valiantly; but my very next look assured me that the
man was old John Barnet, whom I had likewise wronged all that was in my
power, and between these two wicked persons I expected anything but
justice. My arm was again enfeebled, and that of my adversary
prevailed. I was knocked down and mauled most grievously, and, while
the ruffian was kicking and cuffing me at his will and pleasure, up
came old John Barnet, breathless with running, and, at one blow with
his open hand, levelled my opponent with the earth. "Tak ye that,
maister!" said John, "to learn ye better breeding. Hout awa, man! An ye
will fight, fight fair. Gude sauf us, ir ye a gentleman's brood, that
ye will kick an' cuff a lad when he's down?"

When I heard this kind and unexpected interference, I began once more
to value myself on my courage, and, springing up, I made at my
adversary; but John, without saying a word, bit his lip, and seizing me
by the neck threw me down. M'Gill begged of him to stand and see fair
play, and suffer us to finish the battle; for, added he, "he is a liar,
and a scoundrel, and deserves ten times more than I can give him."

"I ken he's a' that ye say, an' mair, my man," quoth John. "But am I
sure that ye're no as bad, an' waur? It says nae muckle for ony o' ye
to be tearing like tikes at one anither here."

John cocked his cudgel and stood between us, threatening to knock the
one dead who first offered to lift his hand against the other; but,
perceiving no disposition in any of us to separate, he drove me home
before him like a bullock, and keeping close guard behind me, lest
M'Gill had followed. I felt greatly indebted to John, yet I complained
of his interference to my mother, and the old officious sinner got no
thanks for his pains.

As I am writing only from recollection, so I remember of nothing
farther in these early days, in the least worthy of being recorded.
That I was a great, a transcendent sinner, I confess. But still I had
hopes of forgiveness, because I never sinned from principle, but
accident; and then I always tried to repent of these sins by the slump,
for individually it was impossible; and, though not always successful
in my endeavours, I could not help that, the grace of repentance being
withheld from me, I regarded myself as in no degree accountable for t