re for his brother Sandy, I shall
be the more glad to see thee back."

So in a little Wat Gordon and I (Hugh Kerr and John Scarlet being with
us) were riding with Claverhouse's despatches to the Privy Council.

Northward we travelled through infinite rough and unkindly places, vexed
ever with a bitter wind in our faces. As we passed many of the little
cot houses on the opposite hillsides, we would see a head look suddenly
out upon us. Then the door fell open, and with a rush like wild things
breaking from their dens, a father and a son, or such-like, would take
the heather. And once, even, we saw the black coat of a preacher. But
with never a halt we went on our way, sharp-set to reach Edinburgh.

As we went, Wat Gordon spoke to me of the great ones of the town, and
especially of the Duchess of Wellwood, with whom, as it appeared, he was
high in favour. But whether honestly or no, I had no means of judging.
It was passing strange for me, who indeed was too young for such love,
even had I been fitted by nature for it--to hear Wat speak of the
gallantry of the great ladies of the Court, and of the amorous doings at
Whitehall. For I had been strictly brought up--a thing which to this day
I do not regret, for it gives even ill-doing a better relish. But in
these times when there are many new-fangled notions about the upbringing
of children and the manner of teaching them, I ever declare I do not
know any better way than that which my father used. Its heads and
particulars were three--the Shorter Catechism for the soul, good oatmeal
porridge for the inward man--and for the outward, some twigs of the
bonny birk, properly applied and that upon the appointed place.

So that to hear of the gay French doings at the Court, which by Wat's
telling were greatly copied in Edinburgh, was to me like beholding the
jigging and coupling of puggy monkeys in a cage to make sport for the
vulgar.

"The Lord keep me from the like of that!" I cried, when he had told me
of a ploy that my Lady Castlemaine and my pretty Mistress Stuart had
carried through together--the point of which was that these two quipsome
dames were wedded, like man and wife, and eke bedded before the Court.

And at this Wat Gordon, who had not much humour at the most of times,
turned on me with a quizzical look on his face, saying, "I think you are
in no great danger, Cousin William."

Which I took not ill, for at that time I cared not a jot about the
appearance of my