ied up-stairs that was hard to pull along;
and there were a good many words that I am sure my Aunt Kezia would not
let me write, and--well, if He do look at what I am writing, I should
not like God to see them neither. I felt sure that the gentlemen were
being carried up to bed--such of them as could not walk--and such as
could were being helped along. I rather wonder that gentlemen like to
drink so much, and get themselves into such a queer condition. I do not
think they would like it if the ladies began to do such things. I could
not help wondering if Angus were among them. Flora, who had lain awake
for a long while, and had only dropped asleep, as she told me
afterwards, about half an hour before, for she heard the clock strike
one, slept on at first, and I hoped she would not awake. But as the
last lot were being dragged past our door, Flora woke up with a start,
and cried,--

"What is that? O Cary, what can be the matter?"

I wanted to make as light of it as I could.

"Oh, go to sleep," I said; "there is nothing wrong."

"But what is that dreadful noise?" she persisted.

"Well, it is only the gentlemen going to bed," said I.

Just then, sounds came through the door, which showed that they were
close outside. Somebody--so far as I could guess from what we heard--
was determined to sit down on the stairs, and Sam was trying to prevail
upon him to go quietly to bed. All sorts of queer things were mixed up
with it--hunting cries, bits of songs, invectives against Hanoverians
and Dissenters, and I scarcely know what else.

"Who is that wretched creature?" whispered Flora to me.

I had recognised the voice, and was able to answer.

"It is Mr Bagnall," said I, "the vicar of Dornthwaite."

"A minister!" was Flora's answer, in an indescribable tone.

"Oh, that does not make any difference," I replied, "with the clergy
about here. Mr Digby is too old for it now, but I have heard say that
when he was a younger man, he used to be as uproarious as anybody."

At last Sam's patience seemed to be exhausted, and he and Will between
them lifted the reverend gentleman off his feet, and carried him to bed
despite his struggles. At least I supposed so from what I heard. About
ten minutes later, Sam and Will passed our door on their way back.

"Yon's a bonnie loon to ca' a minister," I heard Sam say as he went
past. "But what could ye look for in a Prelatist?"

"He gets up i' t' pu'pit, and tells us our dooty