at possessed within the boundaries of their cerebral dominions a single
peg on which they could hang a veritable or plausible doubt of the true
character, origin, and destination of this twelve-o'clock visiter of the
good old town of "Christ's Kirk on the Green."

Such was the state and condition of public opinion in the town of Leslie on
this most important and engrossing subject, on the breaking of the day with
which our history begins--this eventful Hogmanay. As the evening
approached, every one trembled; but the inspiration of incipient drams had
had the effect of so far throwing off the incubus as to enable some of the
inhabitants, and, in particular, those we have mentioned, to go about the
forms of the festival with decent freedom; while the guysers and "reekers,"
after the manner of buoyant youth, had been flirting with their terrors,
and singing and blowing to "keep their spirits up," in the execution of
what they conceived to be a national duty, as well as very good individual
fun. But there was little real sport in the case; and we would give it as a
stanch, and an unflinching opinion, were it put to us, that the terror of
the stranger, and not a love of the liquor she carried, was the true cause
of Jenny Simson's having emptied the bottle before she arrived at the
residence of Christy Lowrie. Nay, more, we might safely allege--and there
is no affidavit in the case--that there might have been more than smoke in
the cause of the rapid flight of John Simson and Meg Johnston from their
own houses to that of Wat Webster; and more than the roses in the cheeks of
the fair Marion, or Wat Webster's pith of anecdote, that produced the
congregation of individuals round his "blazing ingle," at the approach of
the eerie hour of twelve, when it was probable the mysterious stranger
would again appear. Be all this as it may--and we have no wish to overstate
a case in which it is scarcely possible to carry language too far--there
cannot be a doubt that the bells of the Franciscan monastery, as they
tolled, in reverberating sounds, the termination of the old year and the
beginning of the new, on that eventful night, struck a panic into the
boldest Heich Hutcheon that ever figured in "Christ's Kirk on the Green."

The statement of Christy Lowrie was perfectly true. Just as the bell
tolled, the identical personage, with the red cravat, was seen hurrying
forward with his ordinary agility--taking immense strides, and, at times,
la