CHAPTER XXVIII.
Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound, by holy vow, To bless a good man's store Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men! And use it as ye may JOANNA BAILLIE.
Brown could now reckon his foes: they were five in number; two of them were very powerful men, who appeared to be either real seamen or strollers who assumed that character; the other three, an old man and two lads, were slighter made, and, from their black hair and dark complexion, seemed to belong to Meg's tribe.

They passed from one to another the cup out of which they drank their spirits.

'Here's to his good voyage!' said one of the seamen, drinking; 'a squally night he's got, however, to drift through the sky in.' We omit here various execrations with which these honest gentlemen garnished their discourse, retaining only such of their expletives as are least offensive.
'A does not mind wind and weather; 'a has had many a north-easter in his day.' 'He had his last yesterday,' said another gruffly; 'and now old Meg may pray for his last fair wind, as she's often done before.' 'I'll pray for nane o' him,' said Meg, 'nor for you neither, you randy dog.

The times are sair altered since I was a kinchen-mort.

Men were men then, and fought other in the open field, and there was nae milling in the darkmans.