be readily supposed that Morton did not venture to dispute this
invitation, however unpleasant. He rose and accompanied Claverhouse.

"I must apprise you," said the latter, as he led the way down stairs,
"that you will get off cheap; and so will your servant, provided he can
keep his tongue quiet."

Cuddie caught these last words to his exceeding joy.

"Deil a fear o' me," said he, "an my mither disna pit her finger in the
pie."

At that moment his shoulder was seized by old Mause, who had contrived to
thrust herself forward into the lobby of the apartment.

"O, hinny, hinny!" said she to Cuddie, hanging upon his neck, "glad and
proud, and sorry and humbled am I, a'in ane and the same instant, to see
my bairn ganging to testify for the truth gloriously with his mouth in
council, as he did with his weapon in the field!"

"Whisht, whisht, mither!" cried Cuddie impatiently. "Odd, ye daft wife,
is this a time to speak o' thae things? I tell ye I'll testify naething
either ae gate or another. I hae spoken to Mr Poundtext, and I'll tak the
declaration, or whate'er they ca'it, and we're a' to win free off if we
do that--he's gotten life for himsell and a' his folk, and that's a
minister for my siller; I like nane o' your sermons that end in a psalm
at the Grassmarket." [Note: Then the place of public execution.]

"O, Cuddie, man, laith wad I be they suld hurt ye," said old Mause,
divided grievously between the safety of her son's soul and that of his
body; "but mind, my bonny bairn, ye hae battled for the faith, and dinna
let the dread o' losing creature-comforts withdraw ye frae the gude
fight."

"Hout tout, mither," replied Cuddie, "I hae fought e'en ower muckle
already, and, to speak plain, I'm wearied o'the trade. I hae swaggered
wi' a' thae arms, and muskets, and pistols, buffcoats, and bandoliers,
lang eneugh, and I like the pleughpaidle a hantle better. I ken naething
suld gar a man fight, (that's to say, when he's no angry,) by and
out-taken the dread o'being hanged or killed if he turns back."

"But, my dear Cuddie," continued the persevering Mause, "your bridal
garment--Oh, hinny, dinna sully the marriage garment!"

"Awa, awa, mither," replied. Cuddie; "dinna ye see the folks waiting for
me?--Never fear me--I ken how to turn this far better than ye do--for
ye're bleezing awa about marriage, and the job is how we are to win by
hanging."

So saying, he extricated himself out of his mother's embraces, and
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