Reason, sir, is what he canna endure--he's a' for your vanities and volubilities; and he ance tell'd me (puir blinded creature!) that the Psalms of David were excellent poetry! as if the holy Psalmist thought o' rattling rhymes in a blether, like his ain silly clinkum-clankum things that he ca's verse.

Gude help him!--twa lines o' Davie Lindsay would ding a' he ever clerkit." While listening to this perverted account of my temper and studies, you will not be surprised if I meditated for Mr.Fairservice the unpleasant surprise of a broken pate on the first decent opportunity.

His friend only intimated his attention by "Ay, ay!" and "Is't e'en sae ?" and suchlike expressions of interest, at the proper breaks in Mr.
Fairservice's harangue, until at length, in answer to some observation of greater length, the import of which I only collected from my trusty guide's reply, honest Andrew answered, "Tell him a bit o'my mind, quoth ye?
Wha wad be fule then but Andrew?
He's a red-wad deevil, man--He's like Giles Heathertap's auld boar;--ye need but shake a clout at him to make him turn and gore.

Bide wi' him, say ye ?--Troth, I kenna what for I bide wi' him mysell.

But the lad's no a bad lad after a'; and he needs some carefu' body to look after him.