e in
the neighbourhood, and vented a round execration on the laziness
or drunkenness of his comrade, who had not appeared at the place of
rendezvous.

'I will go with you instead of him,' said I, in a sudden whim; 'and I
will give you a crown to introduce me as your comrade.'

'YOU gang instead of Rob the Rambler! My certie, freend, ye are no
blate!' answered Wandering Willie, in a tone which announced death to my
frolic.

But Maggie, whom the offer of the crown had not escaped, began to open
on that scent with a maundering sort of lecture. 'Oh Willie! hinny
Willie, whan will ye learn to be wise? There's a crown to be win for
naething but saying ae man's name instead of anither. And, wae's me! I
hae just a shilling of this gentleman's gieing, and a boddle of my ain;
and ye wunna, bend your will sae muckle as to take up the siller that's
flung at your feet! Ye will die the death of a cadger's powney, in a
wreath of drift! and what can I do better than lie doun and die wi' you?
for ye winna let me win siller to keep either you or mysell leevin.'

'Haud your nonsense tongue, woman,' said Willie, but less absolutely
than before. 'Is he a real gentleman, or ane of the player-men?'

'I'se uphaud him a real gentleman,' said the woman.

'I'se uphaud ye ken little of the matter,' said Willie; 'let us see haud
of your hand, neebor, gin ye like.

I gave him my hand. He said to himself, 'Aye, aye, here are fingers that
have seen canny service.' Then running his hand over my hair, my face,
and my dress, he went on with his soliloquy; 'Aye, aye, muisted hair,
braidclaith o' the best, and seenteen hundred linen on his back, at the
least o' it. And how do you think, my braw birkie, that you are to pass
for a tramping fiddler?'

'My dress is plain,' said I,--indeed I had chosen my most ordinary suit,
out of compliment to my Quaker friends,--'and I can easily pass for a
young farmer out upon a frolic. Come, I will double the crown I promised
you.'

'Damn your crowns!' said the disinterested man of music. 'I would like
to have a round wi' you, that's certain;--but a farmer, and with a hand
that never held pleugh-stilt or pettle, that will never do. Ye may pass
for a trades-lad from Dumfries, or a student upon the ramble, or the
like o' that. But hark ye, lad; if ye expect to be ranting among the
queans o' lasses where ye are gaun, ye will come by the waur, I can tell
ye; for the fishers are wild chaps, and will bide nae taunts.