ite instructions. "Now, sir, it's as
muckle as your life's worth--that wad be dear o' little siller, to be
sure--but it is as muckle as a' our lives are worth, if ye dinna mind
what I sae to ye. In this public whar we are gaun to, and whar it is like
we may hae to stay a' night, men o' a' clans and kindred--Hieland and
Lawland--tak up their quarters--And whiles there are mair drawn dirks
than open Bibles amang them, when the usquebaugh gets uppermost. See ye
neither meddle nor mak, nor gie nae offence wi' that clavering tongue o'
yours, but keep a calm sough, and let ilka cock fight his ain battle."

"Muckle needs to tell me that," said Andrew, contemptuously, "as if I had
never seen a Hielandman before, and ken'd nae how to manage them. Nae man
alive can cuitle up Donald better than mysell--I hae bought wi' them,
sauld wi' them, eaten wi' them, drucken wi' them"--

"Did ye ever fight wi' them?" said Mr. Jarvie.

"Na, na," answered Andrew, "I took care o' that: it wad ill hae set me,
that am an artist and half a scholar to my trade, to be fighting amang a
wheen kilted loons that dinna ken the name o' a single herb or flower in
braid Scots, let abee in the Latin tongue."

"Then," said Mr. Jarvie, "as ye wad keep either your tongue in your
mouth, or your lugs in your head (and ye might miss them, for as saucy
members as they are), I charge ye to say nae word, gude or bad, that ye
can weel get by, to onybody that may be in the Clachan. And ye'll
specially understand that ye're no to be bleezing and blasting about your
master's name and mine, or saying that this is Mr. Bailie Nicol Jarvie o'
the Saut Market, son o' the worthy Deacon Nicol Jarvie, that a' body has
heard about; and this is Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, son of the managing
partner of the great house of Osbaldistone and Tresham, in the City."

"Eneueh said," answered Andrew--"eneueh said. What need ye think I wad be
speaking about your names for?--I hae mony things o' mair importance to
speak about, I trow."

"It's thae very things of importance that I am feared for, ye blethering
goose; ye maunna speak ony thing, gude or bad, that ye can by any
possibility help."

"If ye dinna think me fit," replied Andrew, in a huff, "to speak like
ither folk, gie me my wages and my board-wages, and I'se gae back to
Glasgow--There's sma' sorrow at our parting, as the auld mear said to the
broken cart."

Finding Andrew's perverseness again rising to a point which threatened