ught, and no
gratitude or kindness. To her I was something so lowly that she need
not take the pains to be civil, but must speak of me in my presence as
if it were a question of a stray hound. My first impulse was to refuse
to stir, but happily my good sense returned in time and preserved me
from playing the fool.

"I thank you, sir," I said gruffly--"and the lady. Do I understand that
I am free to go?"

"Through the door, down the left stairway, and you will be in the
street," said the gentleman.

I made some sort of bow and moved to the door.

"Farewell, Mr. Whiggamore," the girl cried, "Keep a cheerful
countenance, or they'll think you a Sweet-Singer. Your breeches will
mend, man."

And with her laughter most unpleasantly in my ears I made my way into
the Canongate, and so to my lodgings at Mrs. Macvittie's.

* * * * *

Three weeks later I heard that Muckle John was destined for the
Plantations in a ship of Mr. Barclay of Urie's, which traded to New
Jersey. I had a fancy to see him before he went, and after much trouble
I was suffered to visit him. His gaoler told me he had been mighty wild
during his examination before the Council, and had had frequent bouts
of madness since, but for the moment he was peaceable. I found him in a
little cell by himself, outside the common room of the gaol. He was
sitting in an attitude of great dejection, and when I entered could
scarcely recall me to his memory. I remember thinking that, what with
his high cheek-bones, and lank black hair, and brooding eyes, and great
muscular frame, Scotland could scarcely have furnished a wilder figure
for the admiration of the Carolinas, or wherever he went to. I did not
envy his future master.

But with me he was very friendly and quiet. His ailment was
home-sickness; for though he had been a great voyager, it seemed he was
loath to quit our bleak countryside for ever. "I used aye to think o'
the first sight o' Inchkeith and the Lomond hills, and the smell o'
herrings at the pier o' Leith. What says the Word? '_Weep not for the
dead, neither bemoan him; but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he
shall return no more, nor see his native country_.'"

I asked him if I could do him any service.

"There's a woman at Cramond," he began timidly. "She might like to ken
what had become o' me. Would ye carry a message?"

I did better, for at Gib's dictation I composed for her a letter, since
he could not wr