mother on any account.

About this time it was that my worthy and reverend parent came with one
of his elders to see my mother and myself. His presence always brought
joy with it into our family, for my mother was uplifted, and I had so
few who cared for me, or for whom I cared, that I felt rather gratified
at seeing him. My illustrious friend was also much more attached to him
than any other person (except myself) for their religious principles
tallied in every point, and their conversation was interesting,
serious, and sublime. Being anxious to entertain well and highly the
man to whom I had been so much indebted, and knowing that, with all his
integrity and righteousness, he disdained not the good things of this
life, I brought from the late laird's well-stored cellars various
fragrant and salubrious wines, and we drank, and became merry, and I
found that my miseries and overpowering calamities passed away over my
head like a shower that is driven by the wind. I became elevated and
happy, and welcomed my guests an hundred times; and then I joined them
in religious conversation, with a zeal and enthusiasm which I had not
often experienced, and which made all their hearts rejoice, so that I
said to myself. "Surely every gift of God is a blessing, and ought to
be used with liberality and thankfulness."

The next day I waked from a profound and feverish sleep, and called for
something to drink. There was a servant answered whom I had never seen
before, and he was clad in my servant's clothes and livery. I asked for
Andrew Handyside, the servant who had waited at table the night before;
but the man answered with a stare and a smile:

"What do you mean, sirrah," said I. "Pray what do you here? Or what are
you pleased to laugh at? I desire you to go about your business, and
send me up Handyside. I want him to bring me something to drink."

"Ye sanna want a drink, maister," said the fellow. "Tak a hearty ane,
and see if it will wauken ye up something, sae that ye dinna ca' for
ghaists through your sleep. Surely ye haena forgotten that Andrew
Handyside has been in his grave these six months?"

This was a stunning blow to me. I could not answer further, but sunk
back on my pillow as if I had been a lump of lead, refusing to take a
drink or anything else at the fellow's hand, who seemed thus mocking me
with so grave a face. The man seemed sorry, and grieved at my being
offended, but I ordered him away, and continued sullen