indie there," stammered Jock with delight.

"'Glass of whisky free!'"--and Speug took a fresh turn in the hay--"it's
against law to drink whisky in a grocer's shop--and him a magistrate!
He'll no meddle wi' the Seminary again."

"Be early!'" chanted Jock, "'be early!' My word! They'll be there, all
the waufies of Muirtown; there'll no be room in the street. 'Glass of
whisky free!'" and Jock wiped his eyes with his knuckles.

Upon Saturday, at noon, just as the Bailie was going along the Terrace
to his house and congratulating himself that on that day at least he was
free from all annoyance by the way, another character of Muirtown had
started out through a very different part of the fair city. London John
was as well known in Muirtown as the Bailie himself, and in his way was
quite as imposing. Tall and gaunt, without an ounce of superfluous
flesh, and with an inscrutable countenance, dressed in a long frock-coat
which he had worn for at least a quarter of a century, and a tall hat
which he had rescued from an ashpit, with the remains of a pair of
trousers, and something in the form of a shirt which was only seen when
he laid aside the outer garment for active service, London John stalked
with majesty through the streets of Muirtown. He earned his living as a
sandwich man, or by carrying in coals, or by going errands, or by
emptying ashpits. He could neither read nor write, but he remembered a
number and never forgot what was due to him, and the solitary subject on
which he spoke was the wonders of London, where it was supposed he had
lost such reason as he had at once possessed. His coming was always
welcome in the poorer parts of the town, for the sake of his discourse
on London, but never had he received such an ovation before in the
Vennel, which was largely inhabited by tramps and tinkers, unskilled
labourers and casuals of all kinds. The cheap tea might not have aroused
their enthusiasm, but at the mention of a free glass of whisky the
deepest emotions of the Vennel were stirred.

"Tea at elevenpence halfpenny," cried Tinkler Tam, who jogged round the
country with petty wares, which he sold in exchange for rabbit-skins,
old clothes, and other debris of a house, "and a glass of whisky free!
Ma certes? let me get a sight o' that," and London John was brought to a
standstill while Tam read aloud the advertisement to a crowd who could
appreciate the cheapness of the tea, and whose tongues began to hang out
at the v