She recommended him, while his hand was in, to paint out the entire name, and, with white paint and a smaller brush, to substitute some other female appellation.

So saying, she tripped off.
Mr.Liston on this was guilty of the following inconsistency; he pressed the paint carefully out of the brush into the pot.

Having thus economized his material, he hurled the pot which contained his economy at "the Johnstone," he then adjourned to the "Peacock," and "away at once with love and reason." Thenceforth, when men asked who was Christie Johnstone's lad, the answer used to be, "She's seeking ane." _Quelle horreur!!_ Newhaven doesn't know everything, but my intelligent reader suspects, and, if confirming his suspicions can reconcile him to our facts, it will soon be done.
But he must come with us to Edinburgh; it's only three miles..