I always make it a rule never to quit the tavern (unless ordered on duty) while my purse is so weighty that I can chuck it over the signpost.

[Note: A Highland laird, whose peculiarities live still in the recollection of his countrymen, used to regulate his residence at Edinburgh in the following manner: Every day he visited the Water-gate, as it is called, of the Canongate, over which is extended a wooden arch.

Specie being then the general currency, he threw his purse over the gate, and as long as it was heavy enough to be thrown over, he continued his round of pleasure in the metropolis; when it was too light, he thought it time to retire to the Highlands.

Query--How often would he have repeated this experiment at Temple Bar ?] When it is so light that the wind blows it back, then, boot and saddle,--we must fall on some way of replenishing .-- But what tower is that before us, rising so high upon the steep bank, out of the woods that surround it on every side ?" "It is the tower of Tillietudlem," said one of the soldiers.

"Old Lady Margaret Bellenden lives there.