pproaching sufficiently near to the musicians--

"Fittlers," he shouted, at the top of his voice, "I say, can you'll kive
us 'Rothiemurchus' Rant,' or the 'Trucken Wives of Fochabers?'"

Then turning to his partner, and flinging his arms about her neck in an
ecstasy of Highland excitation, capering at the same time hilariously in
anticipation of the coming strain--

"Them's the tunes, my lass, for putting mettle in your heels."

A scream from the lady with whom Donald was using these unwarrantable
personal liberties, and a violent attempt on her part to escape
from them, suddenly arrested Donald's hilarity, and excited his
utmost surprise. In the next instant he was surrounded by at least
half-a-dozen angry cavaliers, amongst whom there was a brandishing of
swords and much violent denunciation, all directed against Donald, and
excited by his unmannerly rudeness to a lady. It was some seconds before
Donald could comprehend the meaning of all this wrath, or believe that
he was at once the cause and the object of it. But on this becoming
plain--

"Well, shentlemen," he said, "I did not mean anything wrong. No offence
at all to the girl. It was just the fashion of my country; and I'm sorry
for it."

To this apology of Donald's, of which, of course, not a word was
understood, the only reply was a more fierce flourishing of brands, and
a greater volubility and vehemence of abuse; the effect of which was at
once to arouse Donald's choler, and to urge him headlong on extremities.

"Well, well," he said, "if you'll not have satisfaction any other way
than py the sword, py the sword you shall have it."

And instantly drawing, he stood ready to encounter at once the whole
host of his enemies. What might have been the result of so unequal a
contest, had it taken place, we cannot tell--and this simply because
no encounter did take place. At the moment that Donald was awaiting
the onset of the foe--a proceeding, by the way, which they were now
marvellously slow in adopting, notwithstanding the fury with which
they had opened the assault, a party of the king's guard, with fixed
bayonets, rushed into the apartment, and bore Donald forcibly out into
the street, where they left him, with angry signs that if he attempted
to return, he would meet with still worse treatment. Donald had prudence
enough to perceive that any attempt to resent the insult that had been
offered him--seeing that it was perpetrated by a dozen men armed with