hey are all like
the casters of a lot with them--like the preparing of a table for the
troop, and the furnishing a drink-offering to the number."

"There's a fine sound of doctrine for you, Mr Morton! How like you that?"
said Bothwell; "or how do you think the Council will like it? I think we
can carry the greatest part of it in our heads without a kylevine pen and
a pair of tablets, such as you bring to conventicles. She denies paying
cess, I think, Andrews?"

"Yes, by G--," said Andrews; "and she swore it was a sin to give a
trooper a pot of ale, or ask him to sit down to a table."

"You hear," said Bothwell, addressing Milnwood; "but it's your own
affair;" and he proffered back the purse with its diminished contents,
with an air of indifference.

Milnwood, whose head seemed stunned by the accumulation of his
misfortunes, extended his hand mechanically to take the purse.

"Are ye mad?" said his housekeeper, in a whisper; "tell them to keep
it;--they will keep it either by fair means or foul, and it's our only
chance to make them quiet."

"I canna do it, Ailie--I canna do it," said Milnwood, in the bitterness
of his heart. "I canna part wi' the siller I hae counted sae often ower,
to thae blackguards."

"Then I maun do it mysell, Milnwood," said the housekeeper, "or see a'
gang wrang thegither.--My master, sir," she said, addressing Bothwell,
"canna think o' taking back ony thing at the hand of an honourable
gentleman like you; he implores ye to pit up the siller, and be as kind
to his nephew as ye can, and be favourable in reporting our dispositions
to government, and let us tak nae wrang for the daft speeches of an auld
jaud," (here she turned fiercely upon Mause, to indulge herself for the
effort which it cost her to assume a mild demeanour to the soldiers,) "a
daft auld whig randy, that ne'er was in the house (foul fa' her) till
yesterday afternoon, and that sall ne'er cross the door-stane again an
anes I had her out o't."

"Ay, ay," whispered Cuddie to his parent, "e'en sae! I kend we wad be put
to our travels again whene'er ye suld get three words spoken to an end. I
was sure that wad be the upshot o't, mither."

"Whisht, my bairn," said she, "and dinna murmur at the cross--cross their
door-stane! weel I wot I'll ne'er cross their door-stane. There's nae
mark on their threshold for a signal that the destroying angel should
pass by. They'll get a back-cast o' his hand yet, that think sae muckle
o' the c