, opened and
gave admittance to his hand. He made me remark, as if to break short the
subject on which Bailie Jarvie had spoken, that a small steel pistol was
concealed within the purse, the trigger of which was connected with the
mounting, and made part of the machinery, so that the weapon would
certainly be discharged, and in all probability its contents lodged in
the person of any one, who, being unacquainted with the secret, should
tamper with the lock which secured his treasure. "This," said he touching
the pistol--"this is the keeper of my privy purse."

The simplicity of the contrivance to secure a furred pouch, which could
have been ripped open without any attempt on the spring, reminded me of
the verses in the Odyssey, where Ulysses, in a yet ruder age, is content
to secure his property by casting a curious and involved complication of
cordage around the sea-chest in which it was deposited.

The Bailie put on his spectacles to examine the mechanism, and when he
had done, returned it with a smile and a sigh, observing--"Ah! Rob, had
ither folk's purses been as weel guarded, I doubt if your sporran wad hae
been as weel filled as it kythes to be by the weight."

"Never mind, kinsman," said Rob, laughing; "it will aye open for a
friend's necessity, or to pay a just due--and here," he added, pulling
out a rouleau of gold, "here is your ten hundred merks--count them, and
see that you are full and justly paid."

Mr. Jarvie took the money in silence, and weighing it in his hand for an
instant, laid it on the table, and replied, "Rob, I canna tak it--I downa
intromit with it--there can nae gude come o't--I hae seen ower weel the
day what sort of a gate your gowd is made in--ill-got gear ne'er
prospered; and, to be plain wi' you, I winna meddle wi't--it looks as
there might be bluid on't."

"Troutsho!" said the outlaw, affecting an indifference which perhaps he
did not altogether feel; "it's gude French gowd, and ne'er was in
Scotchman's pouch before mine. Look at them, man--they are a'
louis-d'ors, bright and bonnie as the day they were coined."

"The waur, the waur--just sae muckle the waur, Robin," replied the
Bailie, averting his eyes from the money, though, like Caesar on the
Lupercal, his fingers seemed to itch for it--"Rebellion is waur than
witchcraft, or robbery either; there's gospel warrant for't."

"Never mind the warrant, kinsman," said the freebooter; "you come by the
gowd honestly, and in payment of