ay and was like the sealing
of a legal deed. Never since he became a Bailie had he seen his
boots--at least upon his feet--and his gait, as became his elevation,
was a stately amble, as when a huge merchant-man puts out to sea,
driving the water before her bow and yet swaying gently from side to
side in her progress. Sunday and Saturday--except when officiating at
the Sacrament, and of course he was then in full blacks--the Bailie wore
exactly the same kind of dress--a black frock-coat, close buttoned, and
grey trousers, with a dark blue stock, his one concession to colour. As
his position was quite assured, being, in the opinion of many, second
only to that of the Sheriff and the Fiscal, he could afford to wear his
clothes to the bone, and even to carry one or two stains upon his paunch
as a means of identification. Walking through the town, he stood at his
full height, with his hands folded upon the third button of his coat;
but when he reached the North Meadow, on his way home, and passed the
Seminary, he allowed his head to droop, and clasped his hands behind
after the manner of the great Napoleon, and then it was understood that
the Bailie's mind was wrestling with the affairs of State. People made
way for him upon the streets as he sailed along, and were pleased with a
recognition, which always took the form of a judgment from the Bench,
even though it dealt only with the weather or the crops.

There was no occasion, either in the Council or in the Presbytery, when
the Bailie did not impress; but every one agreed that he rose to his
height on the Bench. No surprise, either of evidence or of law, could be
sprung on him, no sensational incident ever stirred him, no excitement
of the people ever carried him away. He was the terror of the publicans,
and would refuse a license if he saw fit without any fear; but if the
teetotalers tried to dictate to him, he would turn upon them and rend
his own friends without mercy. When any Muirtown sinner was convicted in
his court he would preface his sentence with a ponderous exhortation,
and if the evidence were not sufficient he would allow the accused to go
as an act of grace, but warn him never to appear again, lest a worse
thing should befall him. There are profane people in every community,
and there were those in Muirtown who used to say in private places that
the Bailie was only a big drum, full of emptiness and sound; but the
local lawyers found it best to treat him with