ild hills, Robin,
and your kilted red-shanks--it disna become my place, man."

"The devil damn your place and you baith!" reiterated Campbell. "The
only drap o' gentle bluid that's in your body was our great
grand-uncle's that was justified at Dumbarton, and you set yourself up
to say ye wad degrogate frae your place to visit me! Hark thee, man, I
owe thee a day in harst--I'll pay up your thousan pund Scots, plack
and bawbee, gin ye'll be an honest fellow for anes, and just daiker up
the gate wi' this Sassenach."

"Hout awa' wi' your gentility," replied the Bailie: "carry your gentle
bluid to the Cross, and see what ye'll buy wi't. But, if I were to
come, wad ye really and soothfastly pay me the siller?"

"I swear to ye," said the Highlander, "upon the halidome of him that
sleeps beneath the gray stane at Inche-Cailleach."

"Say nae mair, Robin--say nae mair. We'll see what may be dune. But ye
maunna expect me to gang ower the Hieland line--I'll gae beyond the
line at no rate. Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of
Aberfoil, and dinna forget the needful."

"Nae fear--nae fear," said Campbell; "I'll be as true as the steel
blade that never failed its master. But I must be budging, cousin,
for the air o' Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to be a
Highlander's constitution."

"Troth," replied the merchant, "and if my duty were to be dune, ye
couldna change your atmosphere, as the minister ca's it, this ae wee
while. Ochon, that I ad ever be concerned in aiding and abetting an
escape frae justice! it will be a shame and disgrace to me and mine,
and my father's memory, forever."

"Hout tout, man! let that flee stick in the wa'," answered his
kinsman; "when the dirt's dry it will rub out. Your father, honest
man, could look over a friend's fault as weel as anither."

"Ye may be right, Robin," replied the Bailie, after a moment's
reflection; "he was a considerate man the deacon; he ken'd we had a'
our frailties, and he lo'ed his friends. Ye'll no hae forgotten him,
Robin?" This question he put in a softened tone, conveying as much at
least of the ludicrous as the pathetic.

"Forgotten him!" replied his kinsman, "what suld ail me to forget
him?--a wapping weaver he was, and wrought my first pair o' hose. But
come awa, kinsman,

"Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses, and call up my man;
Come open your gates, and let me gae free,
I daurna stay langer in bo