e time was when I might have been a piece of a minister, but I was too
sensible of my own incapacity to engage in any state affair. And I thank
God that I had always too great a value for those few abilities which
Nature has given me, to employ them in doing any drudgery, or any job of
what kind soever. I have, ever since I set out in the world (and I
believe few have set out more early), served my prince with my tongue; I
have served him with any little interest I had, and I have served him
with my sword, and in my profession of arms. I have held employments
which I have lost, and were I to be to-morrow deprived of those which
still remain to me, and which I have endeavoured honestly to deserve, I
would still serve him to the last acre of my inheritance, and to the last
drop of my blood--"

Mrs. Saddletree here broke in upon the orator:--"Mr. Saddletree, what
_is_ the meaning of a' this? Here are ye clavering about the Duke of
Argyle, and this man Martingale gaun to break on our hands, and lose us
gude sixty pounds--I wonder what duke will pay that, quotha--I wish the
Duke of Argyle would pay his ain accounts--He is in a thousand punds
Scots on thae very books when he was last at Roystoun--I'm no saying but
he's a just nobleman, and that it's gude siller--but it wad drive ane
daft to be confused wi' deukes and drakes, and thae distressed folk
up-stairs, that's Jeanie Deans and her father. And then, putting the very
callant that was sewing the curpel out o' the shop, to play wi'
blackguards in the close--Sit still, neighbours, it's no that I mean to
disturb _you;_ but what between courts o' law and courts o' state, and
upper and under parliaments, and parliament houses, here and in London,
the gudeman's gane clean gyte, I think."

The gossips understood civility, and the rule of doing as they would be
done by, too well, to tarry upon the slight invitation implied in the
conclusion of this speech, and therefore made their farewells and
departure as fast as possible, Saddletree whispering to Plundamas that he
would "meet him at MacCroskie's" (the low-browed shop in the
Luckenbooths, already mentioned), "in the hour of cause, and put
MacCallummore's speech in his pocket, for a' the gudewife's din."

When Mrs. Saddletree saw the house freed of her importunate visitors, and
the little boy reclaimed from the pastimes of the wynd to the exercise of
the awl, she went to visit her unhappy relative, David Deans, and his
elder d