callants bicker there
wi' snaw-ba's as they whiles do, that when Mattie and I gae through, we
are fain to make a baik and a bow, or run the risk o' our harns being
knocked out--it suld be looked to.*--But come awa'wi' your tale--what
fell neist?"

* The boys in Scotland used formerly to make a sort of Saturnalia in a
snow-storm, by pelting passengers with snowballs. But those exposed to
that annoyance were excused from it on the easy penalty of a baik
(courtesy) from a female, or a bow from a man. It was only the refractory
who underwent the storm.

On my mentioning the appearance of Mr. Campbell, Jarvie arose in great
surprise, and paced the room, exclaiming, "Robin again!--Robert's
mad--clean wud, and waur--Rob will be hanged, and disgrace a' his
kindred, and that will be seen and heard tell o'. My father the deacon
wrought him his first hose--Od, I am thinking Deacon Threeplie, the
rape-spinner, will be twisting his last cravat. Ay, ay, puir Robin is in
a fair way o' being hanged--But come awa', come awa'--let's hear the
lave o't."

I told the whole story as pointedly as I could; but Mr. Jarvie still
found something lacking to make it clear, until I went back, though with
considerable reluctance, on the whole story of Morris, and of my meeting
with Campbell at the house of Justice Inglewood. Mr. Jarvie inclined a
serious ear to all this, and remained silent for some time after I had
finished my narrative.

"Upon all these matters I am now to ask your advice, Mr. Jarvie, which, I
have no doubt, will point out the best way to act for my father's
advantage and my own honour."

"Ye're right, young man--ye're right," said the Bailie. "Aye take the
counsel of those who are aulder and wiser than yourself, and binna like
the godless Rehoboam, who took the advice o' a wheen beardless callants,
neglecting the auld counsellors who had sate at the feet o' his father
Solomon, and, as it was weel put by Mr. Meiklejohn, in his lecture on the
chapter, were doubtless partakers of his sapience. But I maun hear
naething about honour--we ken naething here but about credit. Honour is a
homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street;
but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat
play."

"Assuredly, Mr. Jarvie," said our friend Owen, "credit is the sum total;
and if we can but save that, at whatever discount"--

"Ye are right, Mr. Owen--ye are right; ye speak weel and wisely; and