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Twa bottles of as nappy liqnor As over ream’d in horn of bicker, Behint the ark that hauds yon meal, Ye’ll find twa-standing corked weel.’ He said and fast'the miller fiew, And frae their nest the bottles drew ; Then first the scholar’s health he'roasted, Whase art had gart him feed on roasted; His father’s neist— and a' the rest Of his good friends that wish’d him best; Which were o’er langsome at the time, a short’ tale to put in rhyme, Thus while the miller and the youth Were  of their dromh, Bess, fretting, scarcely held frae greeting ; The priest, enclos’d, stood vex'd and sweating. O wow! said Hab, if ane might speer, Dear Master ,James, wha brought our cheer! Sie faits to us appear sae awfu', We hardly think your learning lawfu,' ‘To bring your doubts to a conclusion, Says James ken I’m a Rosicrusian, And of the set that never carries On traffic with black deils, or fairies, There’s mony a sp’rit that’s no a deil, That constantly around us wheel. Now, if you’ll drap your foolish fear, I’ll gar my Packet appear,’ Hab fidg 'd and leugh, his elbuck clew, Baith fear’d and fond a sp'rit to view; At last his courage wan the day, He to the scholar’s will gae way. Bessy be this began to smell but kept her mind to herself: