e, yet, to tell the truth, I do not think he would
have had firmness of mind to have gone through with it if I had not been
beside him."

"Ay! indeed?" said Oldbuck, in the tone used when one wishes to hear the
end of a story before making any comment.

"Yes truly," continued Sir Arthur--"I assure you I was upon my guard--we
did hear some very uncommon sounds, that is certain, proceeding from
among the ruins."

"Oh, you did?" said Oldbuck; "an accomplice hid among them, I suppose?"

"Not a jot," said the Baronet;--"the sounds, though of a hideous and
preternatural character, rather resembled those of a man who sneezes
violently than any other--one deep groan I certainly heard besides; and
Dousterswivel assures me that he beheld the spirit Peolphan, the Great
Hunter of the North--(look for him in your Nicolaus Remigius, or Petrus
Thyracus, Mr. Oldbuck)--who mimicked the motion of snuff-taking and its
effects."

"These indications, however singular as proceeding from such a
personage, seem to have been apropos to the matter," said the Antiquary;
"for you see the case, which includes these coins, has all the
appearance of being an old-fashioned Scottish snuff-mill. But you
persevered, in spite of the terrors of this sneezing goblin?"

"Why, I think it probable that a man of inferior sense or consequence
might have given way; but I was jealous of an imposture, conscious
of the duty I owed to my family in maintaining my courage under every
contingency, and therefore I compelled Dousterswivel, by actual and
violent threats, to proceed with what he was about to do;--and, sir, the
proof of his skill and honesty is this parcel of gold and silver pieces,
out of which I beg you to select such coins or medals as will best suit
your collection."

"Why, Sir Arthur, since you are so good, and on condition you will
permit me to mark the value according to Pinkerton's catalogue and
appreciation, against your account in my red book, I will with pleasure
select"--

"Nay," said Sir Arthur Wardour, "I do not mean you should consider them
as anything but a gift of friendship and least of all would I stand by
the valuation of your friend Pinkerton, who has impugned the ancient
and trustworthy authorities upon which, as upon venerable and moss-grown
pillars, the credit of Scottish antiquities reposed."

"Ay, ay," rejoined Oldbuck, "you mean, I suppose, Mair and Boece, the
Jachin and Boaz, not of history but of falsification and forg