an I come upo' onything by ord'nar' tasty!"

"That ye du, Anerew, or I dinna ken what wud come o' my sowl ony mair
nor o' your boady! Sae ye see, sir, we're like John Sprat an' his
wife:--ye'll ken the bairns' say aboot them?"

"Ay, fine that," replied Donal. "Ye couldna weel be better fittit."

"God grant it!" she said. "But we wad fit better yet gien I had but a
wheen mair brains."

"The Lord kenned what brains ye had whan he broucht ye thegither," said
Donal.

"Ye never uttert a truer word," replied the cobbler. "Gien the Lord be
content wi' the brains he's gien ye, an' I be content wi' the brains ye
gie me, what richt hae ye to be discontentit wi' the brains ye hae,
Doory?--answer me that. But I s' come to the table.--Wud ye alloo me
to speir efter yer name, sir?"

"My name 's Donal Grant," replied Donal.

"I thank ye, sir, an' I'll haud it in respec'," returned the cobbler.
"Maister Grant, wull ye ask a blessin'?"

"I wad raither j'in i' your askin'," replied Donal.

The cobbler said a little prayer, and then they began to eat--first of
oat-cakes, baked by the old woman, then of loaf-breid, as they called
it.

"I'm sorry I hae nae jeally or jam to set afore ye, sir," said Doory,
"we're but semple fowk, ye see--content to haud oor earthly
taibernacles in a haibitable condition till we hae notice to quit."

"It's a fine thing to ken," said the cobbler, with a queer look, "'at
whan ye lea' 't, yer hoose fa's doon, an' ye haena to think o' ony
damages to pey--forby 'at gien it laistit ony time efter ye was oot o'
't, there micht be a wheen deevils takin' up their abode intil 't."

"Hoot, Anerew!" interposed his wife, "there's naething like that i'
scriptur'!"

"Hoot, Doory!" returned Andrew, "what ken ye aboot what's no i'
scriptur'? Ye ken a heap, I alloo, aboot what's in scriptur', but ye
ken little aboot what's no intil 't!"

"Weel, isna 't best to ken what's intil 't?"

"'Ayont a doobt."

"Weel!" she returned in playful triumph.

Donal saw that he had got hold of a pair of originals: it was a joy to
his heart: he was himself an original--one, namely, that lived close to
the simplicities of existence!

Andrew Comin, before offering him house-room, would never have asked
anyone what he was; but he would have thought it an equal lapse in
breeding not to show interest in the history as well as the person of a
guest. After a little more talk, so far from commonplace that the
common would have