CHAPTER XI.
Let them have meat enough, woman--half a hen; There be old rotten pilchards--put them off too; 'Tis but a little new anointing of them, And a strong onion, that confounds the savour.
Love's Pilgrimage.
THE thunderbolt, which had stunned all who were within hearing of it, had only served to awaken the bold and inventive genius of the flower of majors-domo.

Almost before the clatter had ceased, and while there was yet scarce an assurance whether the castle was standing or falling, Caleb exclaimed, "Heaven be praised! this comes to hand like the boul of a pint-stoup." He then barred the kitchen door in the face of the Lord Keeper's servant, whom he perceived returning from the party at the gate, and muttering, "How the deil cam he in ?--but deil may care.

Mysie, what are ye sitting shaking and greeting in the chimney-neuk for?
Come here--or stay where ye are, and skirl as loud as ye can; it's a' ye're gude for.

I say, ye auld deevil, skirl--skirl--louder--louder, woman; gar the gentles hear ye in the ha'.

I have heard ye as far off as the Bass for a less matter.