So there was some little ground for the wool-carder's remark.

How much a second constable would have availed, however, is doubtful.
"I never saw sic widdiefows!" (gallows-birds), chimed in a farmer's wife who was standing in the shop.

"They had a tow across the Wast Wynd i' the snaw, an' doon I cam o' my niz, as sure's your name's Charles Chapman--and mair o' my legs oot o' my coats, I doobt, than was a'thegither to my credit." "I'm sure ye can hae no rizzon to tak' shame o' your legs, gude wife," was the gallant rejoinder; to which their owner replied, with a laugh: "They warna made for public inspection, ony gait." "Hoot! hoot! Naebody saw them.

I s' warran' ye didna lie lang! But thae loons--they're jist past a'! Heard ye hoo they saired Rob Bruce ?" "Fegs! they tell me they a' but buried him alive." "Ow! ay.

But it's a later story, the last." "It's a pity there's no a dizzen or twa o' them in Awbrahawm's boasom .-- What did they till him neist ?" Here Andrew Constable dropped in, and Chapman turned towards him with the question: "Did _ye_ hear, Mr Constable, what the loons did to Robert Bruce the nicht afore last ?" "No.