this poor misbelieving unregenerate sinner, John Barnet.'"

"I hope I may say so indeed."

"There now! I tauld you how it was! But, d'ye hear, maister. Here
stands the poor sinner, John Barnet, your beadle an' servantman, wha
wadna change chances wi' you in the neist world, nor consciences in
this, for ten times a' that you possess--your justification by faith
an' awthegither."

"You are extremely audacious and impertinent, John; but the language of
reprobation cannot affect me: I came only to ask you one question,
which I desire you to answer candidly. Did you ever say to anyone that
I was the boy Robert's natural father?"

"Hout na, sir! Ha-ha-ha! Aih, fie, na, sir! I durst-na say that for my
life. I doubt the black stool, an' the sack gown, or maybe the juggs
wad hae been my portion had I said sic a thing as that. Hout, hout!
Fie, fie! Unco-like doings thae for a Melchizedek or a Saint Paul!"

"John, you are a profane old man, and I desire that you will not
presume to break your jests on me. Tell me, dare you say, or dare you
think, that I am the natural father of that boy?"

"Ye canna hinder me to think whatever I like, sir, nor can I hinder
mysel."

"But did you ever say to anyone that he resembled me, and fathered
himself well enough?"

"I hae said mony a time that he resembled you, sir. Naebody can mistake
that."

"But, John, there are many natural reasons for such likenesses, besides
that of consanguinity. They depend much on the thoughts and affections
of the mother; and it is probable that the mother of this boy, being
deserted by her worthless husband, having turned her thoughts on me, as
likely to be her protector, may have caused this striking resemblance."

"Ay, it may be, sir. I coudna say."

"I have known a lady, John, who was delivered of a blackamoor child,
merely from the circumstance of having got a start by the sudden
entrance of her negro servant, and not being able to forget him for
several hours."

"It may be, sir; but I ken this--an' I had been the laird, I wadna hae
ta'en that story in."

"So, then, John, you positively think, from a casual likeness, that
this boy is my son?"

"Man's thoughts are vanity, sir; they come unasked, an' gang away
without a dismissal, an' he canna' help them. I'm neither gaun to say
that I think he's your son, nor that I think he's no your son: sae ye
needna pose me nae mair about it."

"Hear then my determination, John. If you do not promise to