ot it; but at ilka whizz an' growl the
wind gae, baith Sandy an' Mistress Kenawee startit an' took a lang
breath.

I'm shure we hadna abune a moofu' o' tea drucken, an' Sandy was juist
awa' to tak' aff' the ham, when the fryin' pan was knockit ooten his
hand, an' doon the lum cam' a pozel o' bricks an' shute that wudda
filled a cairt. Sandy fell back ower an' knockit Mistress Kenawee
richt i' the flure. The ham dip gaed up the lum in a gloze, an' here
was Sandy an' Dauvid's wife lyin' i' the middle o' a' the mairter o'
rubbitch. Mistress Kenawee's face, puir thing, was as white as a
cloot; but Sandy's was as black as the man More o' Vennis, the bleckie
that smored his wife i' the theatre for carryin' on wi' a sodger.

What a job Dauvid an' me had gettin' them roond. We poored a drappie
brandie doon baith their throats; an' Sandy opened his een an' says,
"Ay; I've been an awfu' blackgaird; I have that!" He had come doon wi'
the back o' his heid on a biscuit tin fu' o' peyse meal, an' had
smashed the tin an' sent the meal fleein' a' ower the hoose. But the
cratur had gotten an awfu' tnap on the back o' the heid, an' he was
bluidin' gey sair. Gin daylicht brook, Dauvid an' me had gotten the
twa o' them akinda into order, and Sandy was able to open the shop. He
had an awfu' ruggin' an' tuggin' afore he cud get the door to open; an'
he cam' into me an' says, "Dod, Bawbie, I think the hoose has gotten a
terriple thraw. The shop door 'ill nether go back nor forrit!"

I gaed oot to see what was ado. Eh, sirce, if you had only seen oor
street! The beach ootby at the Saut Pan, whaur there's a free coup for
rubbitch, was naething till't! It juist mindit me o' the picture, in
oor big Bible, o' Jerusalem when the fowk cam' back frae Babylon
till't--it was juist a' lyin' a cairn o' lowse steens an' half bricks.

There's neen o's 'ill forget Friday nicht in a hurry, or I'm muckle
misteen.

X.

SANDY AND HIS FAIRNTICKLES.

There's twa things Sandy Bowden's haen sin' ever I got acquant wi'
him--an' that's no' the day nor yesterday--that's fairntickles an'
cheepin' buits. I never kent Sandy bein' withoot a pair o'
'lastic-sided buits that gaed squakin' to the kirk like twa croakin'
hens. I've seen the fowk sometimes turn roond-aboot in their seats,
when Sandy cam' creakin' up the passage, as gin they thocht it was a
brass-band comin' in. But Sandy appears to think there's something
reverint an' Sabbath-like