the
attention of the company with an eye of disdain, while Balmawhapple
proceeded,--

If up a bonny black-cock should spring,
To whistle him down wi' a slug in his wing,
And strap him on to my lunzie string,
Right seldom would I fail.

After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sung the
first over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declared there was
'more sense in that than in all the derry-dongs of France, and Fifeshire
to the boot of it.' The Baron only answered with a long pinch of snuff
and a glance of infinite contempt. But those noble allies, the Bear and
the Hen, had emancipated the young laird from the habitual reverence in
which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronounced the claret
shilpit, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought; and
now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising from this Dutch
concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in the strange
compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, the Laird of
Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks with which the Baron of
Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his entering
upon political discussion, demanded a bumper, with the lungs of a
Stentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet who did such service in
1702, and may the white horse break his neck over a mound of his making!'

Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that King
William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to his
horse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined to take umbrage at a
toast which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's eye, to have a
peculiar and uncivil reference to the Government which he served. But,
ere he could interfere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the
quarrel. 'Sir,' he said, 'whatever my sentiments tanquam privatus may be
in such matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything that may
impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my roof. Sir,
if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respect the
military oath, the sacramentum militare, by which every officer is bound
to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at Titus Livius, what
he says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappy as exuere
sacramentum, to renounce their legionary oath; but you are ignorant, sir,
alike of ancient history and modern courtesy.'

'Not so ignorant as ye wo