The waits, or minstrels of the burgh, played during the repast, and in the intervals of the music one of them recited With great emphasis a long poetical account of the battle of Blackearnside, fought by Sir William Wallace and his redoubted captain and friend, Thomas of Longueville, against the English general Seward--a theme perfectly familiar to all the guests, who, nevertheless, more tolerant than their descendants, listened as if it had all the zest of novelty.
It was complimentary to the ancestor of the Knight of Kinfauns, doubtless, and to other Perthshire families, in passages which the audience applauded vociferously, whilst they pledged each other in mighty draughts to the memory of the heroes who had fought by the side of the Champion of Scotland.

The health of Henry Wynd was quaffed with repeated shouts, and the provost announced publicly, that the magistrates were consulting how they might best invest him with some distinguished privilege or honorary reward, to show how highly his fellow citizens valued his courageous exertions.
"Nay, take it not thus, an it like your worships," said the smith, with his usual blunt manner, "lest men say that valour must be rare in Perth when they reward a man for fighting for the right of a forlorn widow.
I am sure there are many scores of stout burghers in the town who would have done this day's dargue as well or better than I.For, in good sooth, I ought to have cracked yonder fellow's head piece like an earthen pipkin--ay, and would have done it, too, if it had not been one which I myself tempered for Sir John Ramorny.

But, an the Fair City think my service of any worth, I will conceive it far more than acquitted by any aid which you may afford from the common good to the support of the widow Magdalen and her poor orphans." "That may well be done," said Sir Patrick Charteris, "and yet leave the Fair City rich enough to pay her debts to Henry Wynd, of which every man of us is a better judge than him self, who is blinded with an unavailing nicety, which men call modesty.

And if the burgh be too poor for this, the provost will bear his share.

The Rover's golden angels have not all taken flight yet." The beakers were now circulated, under the name of a cup of comfort to the widow, and anon flowed around once more to the happy memory of the murdered Oliver, now so bravely avenged.