pounds of cold roast mutton which he had discussed at his mid-day stage,—Dinmont, I say, fell stoutly upon the good cheer, and, like one of Homer's heroes, said little, either good or bad, till the rage of thirst and hunger was appeased. At length, after a draught of home-brewed ale, he began by observing, "Aweel, aweel, that hen," looking upon the lamentable reliques of what had been once a large fowl, "was na a bad ane to be bred at a town-end, though it's no like our barn-door chuckies at Charlies-hope—and I am glad to see that this vexing job has no ta'en awa' your appetite. Captain."
"Why, really, my dinner was not so excellent, Mr. Dinmont, as to spoil my supper."
"I dare say no, I dare say no:—But now, hinny, that ye hae brought us the brandy and the mug wi' the het water, and the sugar, and a' right, ye may steek the door, ye see, for we wad hae some o' our ain cracks." The damsel accordingly
