son in that?
If you think I have done you wrong, I'll go before your shudge, though
I neither know his law nor his language."

A general cry of "No, no--no law, no lawyer! a bellyful and be
friends," was echoed by the bystanders.

"But," continued Robin, "if I am to fight, I have no skill to fight
like a jackanapes, with hands and nails."

"How would you fight then?" said his antagonist; "though I am thinking
it would be hard to bring you to the scratch any how."

"I would fight with proadswords, and sink point on the first plood
drawn----- like a gentlemans."

A loud shout of laughter followed the proposal, which indeed had
rather escaped from poor Robin's swelling heart, than been the
dictates of his sober judgment.

"Gentleman, quotha!" was echoed on all sides, with a shout of
unextinguishable laughter; "a very pretty gentleman, God wot--Canst
get two swords for the gentleman to fight with, Ralph Heskett?"

"No, but I can send to the armoury at Carlisle, and lend them two
forks to be making shift with in the meantime."

"Tush, man," said another, "the bonny Scots come into the world with
the blue bonnet on their heads, and dirk and pistol at their belt."

"Best send post," said Mr. Fleecebumpkin, "to the squire of Corby
Castle to come and stand second to the _gentleman_."

In the midst of this torrent of general ridicule, the Highlander
instinctively griped beneath the folds of his plaid.

"But it's better not," he said in his own language. "A hundred curses
on the swine-eaters, who know neither decency nor civility!"

"Make room, the pack of you," he said, advancing to the door.

But his former friend interposed his sturdy bulk, and opposed his
leaving the house; and when Robin Oig attempted to make his way by
force, he hit him down on the floor, with as much ease as a boy bowls
down a nine-pin.

"A ring, a ring!" was now shouted, until the dark rafters, and the
hams that hung on them, trembled again, and the very platters on the
_bink_ clattered against each other. "Well done, Harry."--"Give it him
home, Harry."--"Take care of him now--he sees his own blood!"

Such were the exclamations, while the Highlander, starting from the
ground, all his coldness and caution lost in frantic rage, sprung at
his antagonist with the fury, the activity, and the vindictive purpose
of an incensed tiger-cat. But when could rage encounter science and
temper? Robin Oig again went down in the unequal contest; and as th