I dare say Mr Skriegh can sing us the ballant."
"Good-wife," said Skriegh, gathering up his mouth, and sipping his tiff of brandy punch with great solemnity, "our talents were given us to other use than to sing daft auld sangs sae near the Sabbath-day."
"Hout fie, Mr Skriegh, I'se warrant I hae heard ye sing a blythe sang on Saturday at e'en—But as for the family carriage, Deacon, it has nae been out o' the coachhouse since Mrs Bertram died, that's sixteen or seventeen years sin syne—Jock Jabos is away wi' a chaise of mine for them;—I wonder he's no come back. It's pit mirk—but there's no an ill turn on the road but twa, and the brigg ower Warroch burn is safe eneugh, if he haud to the right side. But then there's Heavieside-brae, that's just a murder for post-cattle—but Jock kens the road brawly."—
A loud rapping was heard at the door.
"That's no them. I dinna hear the
