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well-known voice said to him, 'Geordie! what is the matter wi' ye, Geordie?' George was provoked beyond measure at the insolence of the question, for he knew the voice to be that of Chirsty Halliday, bis wife, 'I think ye needna ask that, seeing what ye see,' said George. O my poor Dawtie, where are a' your jinkings and prancings now, your moopings and your wincings? I'll ne'er be a proud man again—bereaved of my bonny pair.'
'Get up, George; get up, and bestir yourself,' said Chirsty Halliday, his wife. You are wanted directly, to bring in the Lord President to the Parliament House. It is a great storm, and he mnst be there by nine o'clock,—Get up—rouse yourself, and make ready—his servant is waiting for you.'
'Woman, you are demented!' cried George. 'How can I go and bring in the Lord President, when my coach is broken in pieces, my poor Dawtie lying with twa of her legs broken and Duncan dead? And, moreover, I have a previous engagement, for I am obliged to be in in hell before twelve o'clock.'
Chirsty Halliday now laughed outright, and continued long in a ft of laughter, but George never moved his head from the pillow, but lay and groaned, for in fact, he was all the while lying snug in his bed; while the tempest without was roaring with great violence, and which circumstance may perhaps account for the rushing and deafening sound which astounded him so much in hell. Bnt so deeply was he impressed with the realities of his dream that he would do nothing but lie and moan, persisting and believing in the truth of all he had seen. His wife now went and informed her neighbours of her husband's plight, and of his singular engagement with Mr R. of L. at twelve o'clock. She persuaded one friend to harness the horses, and go for the Lord President; but all the
