Na, na, ye maunna lock the door; that's no fair play." When the door was put ajee, and the furm set fornent the fire, I gave Isaac a dram to keep his heart up on such a cold stormy night.

'Od, but he was a droll fellow, Isaac.

He sung and leuch as if he had been boozing in Luckie Thamson's, with some of his drucken cronies.

Feint a hair cared he about auld kirks, or kirkyards, or vouts, or through-stanes, or dead folk in their winding-sheets, with the wet grass growing over them; and at last I began to brighten up a wee myself; so when he had gone over a good few funny stories, I said to him, quoth I, "Mony folk, I daresay, mak mair noise about their sitting up in a kirkyard than it's a' worth.

There's naething here to harm us ?" "I beg to differ wi' ye there," answered Isaac, taking out his horn mull from his coat pouch, and tapping on the lid in a queer style--"I could gie anither version of that story.