th much about
the same grace which he exhibited in tossing a truss of hay with a
pitchfork. "There, man, tak half-a-dizzen o' cuts like that, and then ye
may say ye hae made a bit supper o't."

Robert Adair was, in truth, but a rough table attendant, but he was a kind
one, and in all he said and did meant well, however uncouthly it might be
expressed.

Of this the stranger seemed perfectly aware; and, although he could not
eat, he appeared fully to appreciate the sincerity of his host's
invitations to him to do so.

After persevering, therefore, a little longer, as if to please his
entertainer, he at length laid down his knife and fork, and declared that
he was now satisfied, and could take no more. On his making this decided
movement--

"My faith," said his hospitable landlord, "an' ye be na waur to water than
to corn, I think I could board ye, an' no be a loser, for a very sma'
matter. Rosy, bring butt the bottle."

Obedient to the command, Rosy tripped out of the kitchen, and in an instant
returned with the desiderated commodity--a dumpy, bluff, opaque bottle, of
about a gallon contents--which she placed on the table. Adair seized it by
its long neck, and, filling up a brimming bumper, tossed it off to the
health of his guest. This done, he filled up another topping glass, and
presented it to the stranger, with a strong recommendation on the score of
excellence. "Ra-a-l guid stuff, sir," he said, "tak my word for't. Juist a
cordial. Noo, dinna trifle wi' your drink as ye did wi' your meat, or I'll
no ken what to think o' ye at a'."

The stranger, with renewed acknowledgments for the kindness shewn him, took
the proffered beverage; but, instead of taking it off as his worthy host
had expected, he merely put it to his lips, and replaced it on the table.

"Weel, that cowes the gowan!" said Adair. "Ye'll neither hap nor
wyn--neither dance nor haud the candle. Try't again, man, try't again.
Steek your een hard, gie ae gulp, an' ower wi't."

The worthy man, however, pressed in vain. The stranger would not drink; but
once more acknowledged the kindness and well-meant hospitality of his
entertainer.

During all this time, the stranger had neither said nor done any single
thing which was capable of imparting the slightest idea of who or what he
was--where he was from, or whence he was going. Indeed, he hardly spoke at
all; and the little he did speak was almost all confined to brief
expressions of thanks for the ki