"Harlot, thief, witch, and gypsey," answered Sampson again.
"O troth, Laird," continued Meg, during this bye-talk, "it's but to the like o' you ane can open their heart; ye see, they say Dunbog is nae mair a gentleman than the blunker that's biggit the bonnie house down in the howm. But the like o' you, Laird, that's a real gentleman for sae mony hundred years, and never hounds puir folk off your ground as if they were mad tykes, nane o' our fowk wad stir your gear if ye had as mony capons as there's leaves on the trysting-tree.—And now some o' ye maun lay down your watch, and tell me the very minute o' the hour the wean's born, and I'll spae its fortune."
"Aye, but, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here's a student from Oxford that knows much better than you how to spae his fortune—he does it by the stars."
"Certainly, sir," said Mannering, entering into the simple humour of his land-
