ntenance.--"Mr. Lovel's bed's ready, brother--clean sheets--weel aired--a
spunk of fire in the chimney--I am sure, Mr. Lovel," (addressing him),
"it's no for the trouble--and I hope you will have a good night's
rest--But"--

"You are resolved," said the Antiquary, "to do what you can to prevent
it."

"Me?--I am sure I have said naething, Monkbarns."

"My dear madam," said Lovel, "allow me to ask you the meaning of your
obliging anxiety on my account."

"Ou, Monkbarns does not like to hear of it--but he kens himsell that the
room has an ill name. It's weel minded that it was there auld Rab Tull
the town-clerk was sleeping when he had that marvellous communication
about the grand law-plea between us and the feuars at the Mussel-craig.
--It had cost a hantle siller, Mr. Lovel; for law-pleas were no carried
on without siller lang syne mair than they are now--and the Monkbarns of
that day--our gudesire, Mr. Lovel, as I said before--was like to be waured
afore the Session for want of a paper--Monkbarns there kens weel what
paper it was, but I'se warrant he'll no help me out wi' my tale--but it
was a paper of great significance to the plea, and we were to be waured
for want o't. Aweel, the cause was to come on before the fifteen--in
presence, as they ca't--and auld Rab Tull, the town-clerk, he cam ower to
make a last search for the paper that was wanting, before our gudesire
gaed into Edinburgh to look after his plea--so there was little time to
come and gang on. He was but a doited snuffy body, Rab, as I've heard
--but then he was the town-clerk of Fairport, and the Monkbarns heritors
aye employed him on account of their connection wi' the burgh, ye ken."

"Sister Grizel, this is abominable," interrupted Oldbuck; "I vow to
Heaven ye might have raised the ghosts of every abbot of Trotcosey,
since the days of Waldimir, in the time you have been detailing the
introduction to this single spectre.--Learn to be succinct in your
narrative.--Imitate the concise style of old Aubrey, an experienced
ghost-seer, who entered his memoranda on these subjects in a terse
business-like manner; exempli gratia--At Cirencester, 5th March, 1670,
was an apparition.--Being demanded whether good spirit or bad, made
no answer, but instantly disappeared with a curious perfume, and a
melodious twang'--Vide his Miscellanies, p. eighteen, as well as I can
remember, and near the middle of the page."

"O, Monkbarns, man! do ye think everybody is as bo