e house of a very old
friend of his, a Bailie Mac something and four syllables after it, who
lived in the old town of Edinburgh. There were the bailie's wife, and
the bailie's three daughters, and the bailie's grown-up son, and three
or four stout, bushy eye-browed, canny, old Scotch fellows, that the
bailie had got together to do honour to my uncle, and help to make
merry. It was a glorious supper. There was kippered salmon, and Finnan
haddocks, and a lamb's head, and a haggis--a celebrated Scotch dish,
gentlemen, which my uncle used to say always looked to him, when it
came to table, very much like a Cupid's stomach--and a great many
other things besides, that I forget the names of, but very good things,
notwithstanding. The lassies were pretty and agreeable; the bailie's
wife was one of the best creatures that ever lived; and my uncle was in
thoroughly good cue. The consequence of which was, that the young ladies
tittered and giggled, and the old lady laughed out loud, and the bailie
and the other old fellows roared till they were red in the face,
the whole mortal time. I don't quite recollect how many tumblers of
whiskey-toddy each man drank after supper; but this I know, that about
one o'clock in the morning, the bailie's grown-up son became insensible
while attempting the first verse of "Willie brewed a peck o' maut";
and he having been, for half an hour before, the only other man visible
above the mahogany, it occurred to my uncle that it was almost time to
think about going, especially as drinking had set in at seven o'clock,
in order that he might get home at a decent hour. But, thinking it might
not be quite polite to go just then, my uncle voted himself into the
chair, mixed another glass, rose to propose his own health, addressed
himself in a neat and complimentary speech, and drank the toast with
great enthusiasm. Still nobody woke; so my uncle took a little drop
more--neat this time, to prevent the toddy from disagreeing with
him--and, laying violent hands on his hat, sallied forth into the
street.

'It was a wild, gusty night when my uncle closed the bailie's door, and
settling his hat firmly on his head to prevent the wind from taking
it, thrust his hands into his pockets, and looking upward, took a short
survey of the state of the weather. The clouds were drifting over the
moon at their giddiest speed; at one time wholly obscuring her; at
another, suffering her to burst forth in full splendour and shed