ter which occurred in
Mr. Davidson's last illness. I use the words of the excellent clergyman
who attended him, who gave the account to a reverend gentleman of the
same persuasion:--

'I read to Mr. Davidson the very suitable and interesting truths you
addressed to him. He listened to them with great seriousness, and has
uniformly displayed a deep concern about his soul's salvation. He died on
the first Sabbath of the year (1820); an apoplectic stroke deprived him
in an instant of all sensation, but happily his brother was at his
bedside, for he had detained him from the meeting-house that day to be
near him, although he felt himself not much worse than usual. So you have
got the last little Mustard that the hand of Dandie Dinmont bestowed.

'His ruling passion was strong even on the eve of death. Mr. Baillie's
fox-hounds had started a fox opposite to his window a few weeks ago, and
as soon as he heard the sound of the dogs his eyes glistened; he insisted
on getting out of bed, and with much difficulty got to the window and
there enjoyed the fun, as he called it. When I came down to ask for him,
he said, "he had seen Reynard, but had not seen his death. If it had been
the will of Providence," he added, "I would have liked to have been after
him; but I am glad that I got to the window, and am thankful for what I
saw, for it has done me a great deal of good." Notwithstanding these
eccentricities (adds the sensible and liberal clergyman), I sincerely
hope and believe he has gone to a better world, and better company and
enjoyments.'

If some part of this little narrative may excite a smile, it is one which
is consistent with the most perfect respect for the simple-minded invalid
and his kind and judicious religious instructor, who, we hope, will not
be displeased with our giving, we trust, a correct edition of an anecdote
which has been pretty generally circulated. The race of Pepper and
Mustard are in the highest estimation at this day, not only for
vermin-killing, but for intelligence and fidelity. Those who, like the
author, possess a brace of them, consider them as very desirable
companions.

NOTE 4, p. 232

The cleek here intimated is the iron hook, or hooks, depending from the
chimney of a Scottish cottage, on which the pot is suspended when
boiling. The same appendage is often called the crook. The salmon is
usually dried by hanging it up, after being split and rubbed with salt,
in the smoke of the turf