nd young--I trow ye were doing for yoursell at
the last riding of the Scots Parliament, and that was in the gracious
year seven, sae ye can be nae sic chicken at ony rate."

Plumdamas, who acted as squire of the body to the two contending dames,
instantly saw the hazard of entering into such delicate points of
chronology, and being a lover of peace and good neighbourhood, lost no
time in bringing back the conversation to its original subject.

"The Judge didna tell us a' he could hae tell'd us, if he had liked,
about the application for pardon, neighbours," said he "there is aye a
wimple in a lawyer's clew; but it's a wee bit of a secret."

"And what is't--what is't, neighbour Plumdamas?" said Mrs. Howden and
Miss Damahoy at once, the acid fermentation of their dispute being at
once neutralised by the powerful alkali implied in the word secret.

"Here's Mr. Saddletree can tell ye that better than me, for it was him
that tauld me," said Plumdamas as Saddletree came up, with his wife
hanging on his arm, and looking very disconsolate.

When the question was put to Saddletree, he looked very scornful. "They
speak about stopping the frequency of child-murder," said he, in a
contemptuous tone; "do ye think our auld enemies of England, as Glendook
aye ca's them in his printed Statute-book, care a boddle whether we didna
kill ane anither, skin and birn, horse and foot, man, woman, and bairns,
all and sindry, _omnes et singulos,_ as Mr. Crossmyloof says? Na, na,
it's no _that_ hinders them frae pardoning the bit lassie. But here is
the pinch of the plea. The king and queen are sae ill pleased wi' that
mistak about Porteous, that deil a kindly Scot will they pardon again,
either by reprieve or remission, if the haill town o' Edinburgh should be
a' hanged on ae tow."

"Deil that they were back at their German kale-yard then, as my neighbour
MacCroskie ca's it," said Mrs. Howden, "an that's the way they're gaun to
guide us!"

"They say for certain," said Miss Damahoy, "that King George flang his
periwig in the fire when he heard o' the Porteous mob."

"He has done that, they say," replied Saddletree, "for less thing."

"Aweel," said Miss Damahoy, "he might keep mair wit in his anger--but
it's a' the better for his wigmaker, I'se warrant."

"The queen tore her biggonets for perfect anger,--ye'll hae heard o' that
too?" said Plumdamas. "And the king, they say, kickit Sir Robert Walpole
for no keeping down the mob of Edinbur