woman, however much she may worship his Satanic
Majesty, cares not for his familiarities. The widow fainted; and what may
be supposed her feelings, when she found, on coming to herself, that that
identical and terrific red liquor had had a share in her recovery! Again
she screamed; but no kindly neighbour came to rescue her from her perilous
situation. Those who heard her cries, had many strange thoughts as to what
species of punishment she was undergoing, for her sins. The conjectures
were endless. "What could he be doing to Widow Lindsay?" was the universal
question. Some supposed that she was in the act of being carried off, and
was struggling to get out of his talons; some looked for the passing flame,
in the midst of which, the poor widow, clasped in his arms, would be seen
on her luminous journey to the lower world; and there were not few who
pretended to find, in the past life of the wretched victim, a very good
legitimate cause for the visit of the stranger, and the severity he was
clearly exercising towards her.

"Thou'lt be the better for thy faint, Widow Lindsay," said the stranger, as
she recovered, "seeing that what blood it has sent from thy heart, will be
returned with the addition of that liquor which is truly the water of life.
Dost forget, good widow, that, when I was last here, thou and Meg Johnston
would have fought for a can of it, if I had not made the can two? Come now,
and let us fuddle our noses till they be as red as the liquor itself, and
thy spectacles shew thee two noses, before they melt with the heat of their
ruby supporter.

"'However this world do change and vary,
Oh, let us in heart never more be sary.'"

"Avaunt ye! in the name o' the five holy wounds!" muttered the widow, as
she held up the Sathanifuge crow in his face.

"Well, and if thou wilt not, here goes!" replied he, as he threw the
contents of the bicker in the fire, which blazed up till the house seemed,
to those waiting fearfully in the distance, to be in flames.

Many an eye was now directed to the door and windows, to see Widow Lindsay
take her pyromantic flight through the flaming fields of ether; and they
continued their gaze till they saw him of the red cravat sally forth, when
fear closed up the vision, and they saw no more. Meanwhile he strode on,
singing all the way--

"Full oft I muse, and be's in thocht;
How this false world is aye on flocht,"

till he came to the door of Meg Johnston's cotta