tionable,
but excellent."

"And what for dinna ye drink it, then?" said Meg, sharply; "folk should
never ask for mair liquor than they can make a gude use of. Maybe ye
think we have the fashion of the table-dot, as they ca' their newfangled
ordinary down-by yonder, where a' the bits of vinegar cruets are put awa
into an awmry, as they tell me, and ilk ane wi' the bit dribbles of
syndings in it, and a paper about the neck o't, to show which of the
customers is aught it--there they stand like doctor's drogs--and no an
honest Scottish mutchkin will ane o' their viols haud, granting it were
at the fouest."

"Perhaps," said Tyrrel, willing to indulge the spleen and prejudice of
his old acquaintance, "perhaps the wine is not so good as to make full
measure desirable."

"Ye may say that, lad--and yet them that sell it might afford a gude
penniworth, for they hae it for the making--maist feck of it ne'er saw
France or Portugal. But as I was saying--this is no ane of their
newfangled places, where wine is put by for them that canna drink
it--when the cork's drawn the bottle maun be drank out--and what for
no?--unless it be corkit."

"I agree entirely, Meg," said her guest; "but my ride to-day has
somewhat heated me--and I think the dish of tea you promise me, will do
me more good than to finish my bottle."

"Na, then, the best I can do for you is to put it by, to be sauce for
the wild-duck the morn; for I think ye said ye were to bide here for a
day or twa."

"It is my very purpose, Meg, unquestionably," replied Tyrrel.

"Sae be it then," said Mrs. Dods; "and then the liquor's no lost--it has
been seldom sic claret as that has simmered in a saucepan, let me tell
you that, neighbour;--and I mind the day, when, headache or nae
headache, ye wad hae been at the hinder-end of that bottle, and maybe
anither, if ye could have gotten it wiled out of me. But then ye had
your cousin to help you--Ah! he was a blithe bairn that Valentine
Bulmer!--Ye were a canty callant too, Maister Francie, and muckle ado I
had to keep ye baith in order when ye were on the ramble. But ye were a
thought doucer than Valentine--But O! he was a bonny laddie!--wi' e'en
like diamonds, cheeks like roses, a head like a heather-tap--he was the
first I ever saw wear a crap, as they ca' it, but a' body cheats the
barber now--and he had a laugh that wad hae raised the dead!--What wi'
flyting on him, and what wi' laughing at him, there was nae minding ony
oth