d the headstones and
railings of the gentry (for we must all die), and the black corbies in
the steeple-holes cackled and crawed in a fearsome manner. Oh, but it
was lonesome and dreary; and in about an hour the laddie wanted to rin
awa hame; but, trying to look brave, though half-frightened out of my
seven senses, I said, "Sit down, sit down; I've baith whiskey and porter
wi' me. Hae, man, there's a cawker to keep your heart warm; and set down
that bottle of Deacon Jaffrey's best brown stout to get a toast."

The wind blew like a hurricane; the rain began to fall in perfect
spouts. Just in the heart of the brattle the grating of the yett turning
on its rusty hinges was but too plainly heard.

"The're coming; cock the piece, ye sumph!" cried the laddie, while his
red hair rose, from his pow like feathers. "I hear them tramping on the
gravel," and he turned the key in the lock and brizzed his back against
the door like mad, shouting out, "For the Lord's sake, prime the gun, or
our throats will be cut before you can cry Jack Robinson."

I did the best I could, but the gun waggled to and fro like a cock's
tail on a rainy day. I trust I was resigned to die, but od' it was a
frightful thing to be out of one's bed to be murdered in an old
session-house at the dead hour of the night by devils incarnate of
ressurrection men with blacked faces, pistols, big sticks, and other
deadly weapons.

After all, it was only Isaac, the bethrel, who, when we let him in, said
that he had just keppit four ressurrectioners louping over the wall. But
that was a joke. I gave Isaac a dram to kep his heart up, and he sung
and leuch as if he had been boozing with some of his drucken cronies;
for feint a hair cared he about auld kirkyards, or vouts, or dead folk
in their winding-sheets, with the wet grass growing over them. Then,
although I tried to stop him, he began to tell stories of Eirish
ressurrectioners, and ghaists, seen in the kirkyard at midnight.

Suddenly a clap like thunder was heard, and the laddie, who had fallen
asleep on the bench, jumped up and roared "Help!" "Murder!" "Thieves!"
while Isaac bellowed out, "I'm dead! I'm killed!--shot through the head!
Oh, oh, oh!" Surely, I had fainted away, for, when I came to myself, I
found my red comforter loosed, my face all wet, Isaac rubbing down his
waistcoat with his sleeve--the laddie swigging ale out of a bicker--and
the brisk brown stout, which, by casting its cork, had caused all t