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 ride and play wi' the broadsword a bit, but ye wad be roaring about your blessing and your grey hairs. (Here Mause's exclamations became extreme.) "Weel, weel, I but spoke o't; besides ye're ower auld to be sitting cocked up on a baggage-waggon wi' Eppie Dumblane the corporal's wife. Sae what's to come o' us I canna weel see—I doubt I'll hae to tak the hills wi' the wild whigs, as they ca' them, and then it will be my lot to be shot down like a mawkin at some dykeside, or to be sent to Heaven wi' a Saint Johnstone's tippit about my hause."

"O, my bonnie Cuddie, forbear sic carnal, self-seeking language, whilk is just a misdoubting o' Providence—I have not seen the son of the righteous begging his bread, sae says the text; and your father was a douce honest man, though somewhat warldly in his dealings, and cumbered about earthly things e'en like yoursel, my jo!"

"Aweel," said Cuddie, after a little