But you forget that the affront descended like a benediction into the pouch of the old gaberlunzie, who overflowed in blessings upon the generous donor--long ere he would have thanked thee, Darsie, for thy barren veneration of his beard and his bearing.

Then you laugh at my good father's retreat from Falkirk, just as if it were not time for a man to trudge when three or four mountain knaves, with naked claymores, and heels as light as their fingers, were scampering after him, crying FURINISH.

You remember what he said himself when the Laird of Bucklivat told him that FURINISH signified 'stay a while'.

'What the devil,' he said, surprised out of his Presbyterian correctness by the unreasonableness of such a request under the circumstances, 'would the scoundrels have had me stop to have my head cut off ?' Imagine such a train at your own heels, Darsie, and ask yourself whether you would not exert your legs as fast as you did in flying from the Solway tide.

And yet you impeach my father's courage.