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 laird in a right frame, expatiated on the joys of heaven and the terrors of hell. At this last subject he declared, that sinners who did not repent, that is to say, betake themselves to faith and grace, would be burned by the devil until they were as black as the skin of a roasted potatoe. And come, here's a bumper to your honour's salvation, and I shall be glad at time and place convanient to lend you a lift. You're in a blessed disposition, and if you keep to it you're sure of getting to heaven among the saints and the pretty little angels; and heaven, let me tell you, is as fine a place as the Curragh of Kildare, or the lake of Killarney itself." "Yes," answered the laird, with true Caledonian gravity, "it is a blessed mansion, where God grant we may arrive with due speed." "Oh," replied Roger, "there's no hurry." The laird now whistling, the landlady