But though Mr.Walker invited him up after dinner to partake of a glass of spirits and water, to which he was supposed not to be very averse, yet he would not speak frankly upon the subject of his occupation.

He was in bad humour, and had, according to his phrase, no freedom for conversation with us.
His spirit had been sorely vexed by hearing, in a certain Aberdonian kirk, the psalmody directed by a pitch-pipe, or some similar instrument, which was to Old Mortality the abomination of abominations.

Perhaps, after all, he did not feel himself at ease with his company; he might suspect the questions asked by a north-country minister and a young barrister to savour more of idle curiosity than profit.

At any rate, in the phrase of John Bunyan, Old Mortality went on his way, and I saw him no more.
The remarkable figure and occupation of this ancient pilgrim was recalled to my memory by an account transmitted by my friend Mr.Joseph Train, supervisor of excise at Dumfries, to whom I owe many obligations of a similar nature.

From this, besides some other circumstances, among which are those of the old man's death, I learned the particulars described in the text.