f
Sheriff of Berwickshire, but was reinstated in 1715. His lady being
dead, he came to take up his residence in Berwick-upon-Tweed; and there,
when the heroic Grizel, who was now a wife and a mother (being married
to the son of his unfortunate friend, Mr Bailie of Jerviswoode), came
with her children and friends to visit him for the last time, as they
danced in the hall, though unable to walk, he desired to be carried into
the midst of them, and, beating time with his foot--

"See, Grizel," exclaimed the old patriot, "though your father is unable
to dance, he can still beat time with his foot."

Shortly after this, he died in Berwick, on the 1st of August, 1724, in
the eighty-third year of his age--leaving behind him an example of
piety, courage, and patriotism, worthy the imitation of posterity.

THE SERJEANT'S TALES.

THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON.

At the next opportunity, I got Serjeant Square to resume the narrative
of his adventures.

No feeling that the human mind is called upon to sustain (said he) is
more depressing than the consciousness of being alone in a strange place
without friend or acquaintance--the populous city and the desert are
alike lonely. I have been, in the wildernesses of America and in London,
the victim of this saddening sensation, and felt it perhaps less keenly
when a solitary wanderer in the trackless wilds; for there bodily
exertion, and the hopes of soon being in the haunts of men, deadened its
force; while, in the populous city, I felt as if I had, after severe
suffering and toil, attained an object to me worse than worthless.
Amidst the densest crowds, after all, a man can only feel himself truly
alone when no hand is held out to him, no eye beams the glance of
recognition, and all is strange as a dream. Such were my feelings on the
morning after my arrival in Berwick, on my way to London on foot.
Fortune had been adverse to me in my native city, Edinburgh--in truth, I
had hitherto been her plaything; and, even now, had no definite object
in view. Tired of my walk, I had agreed with the captain of a trader for
my passage by sea, for the remainder of my journey; and lay upon my bed,
awaiting the morning light, a prey to my feelings, and musing upon my
chequered fortunes. The wind began gradually to rise and mourn sadly
through the windows and in the chimney of the room where I lay. As the
morning advanced, the storm increased and raged, so that no vessel could
put to se