"My destiny," thought Ravenswood, "seems to lead me to scenes of fate and of death; but these are childish thoughts, and they shall not master me.

I will not again suffer my imagination to beguile my senses." The old man rested on his spade as the Master approached him, as if to receive his commands; and as he did not immediately speak, the sexton opened the discourse in his own way.
"Ye will be a wedding customer, sir, I'se warrant ?" "What makes you think so, friend ?" replied the Master.
"I live by twa trades, sir," replied the blythe old man--"fiddle, sir, and spade; filling the world, and emptying of it; and I suld ken baith cast of customers by head-mark in thirty years' practice." "You are mistaken, however, this morning," replied Ravenswood.
"Am I ?" said the old man, looking keenly at him, "troth and it may be; since, for as brent as your brow is, there is something sitting upon it this day that is as near akin to death as to wedlock.

Weel--weel; the pick and shovel are as ready to your order as bow and fiddle." "I wish you," said Ravenswood, "to look after the descent interment of an old woman, Alice Gray, who lived at the Graigfoot in Ravenswood Park." "Alice Gray!--blind Alice!" said the sexton; "and is she gane at last?
that's another jow of the bell to bid me be ready.

I mind when Habbie Gray brought her down to this land; a likely lass she was then, and looked ower her southland nose at us a'.

I trow her pride got a downcome.