For, ye observe," continued Thomas, giving me, as I took it to myself, another queer side-look, "the purpose of the offisher making the inspection, was to see that they laid out their pay-money conform to military regulation; and not to fyling their stamicks, and ruining baith sowl and body, by throwing it away on whisky--as but ower mony, that aiblins should have kenned better, have dune but too often." "'Tis but ower true," said I till him; "but the best will fa' intil a faut sometimes.

We have a' our failings, Thomas." "Just so," answered Thomas; "but where was I at ?--Ou, about the whisky.
Weel, speaking about the whisky, ye see the offisher, Lovetenant Todrick I b'lief they called him, had made an observe about Duncan's kettle; so, when he came to him, Duncan was sitting in the lown side of a dyke, with his red nose, and a pipe in his cheek, on a big stane, glowring frae him anither way; and, as I was saying, when he came to him he said, "'Weel, Duncan MacAlpine, what have ye in your kettle the day, man ?' "And Duncan, rinning down his lang fork, answered in his ain Highland brogue way--'Please your honours, just my auld favourite, tripe.' "''Deed, Duncan,' said Lovetenant Todrick, or whatever they caa'd him, 'it is an auld favourite surely, for I have never seen ye have onything else for your dinner, man.' "'Every man to his taste, please your honour,' answered Duncan MacAlpine; 'let ilka ane please her nain sell,'-- hauling up a screed half a yard lang.

'Ilka man to his taste, please your honour, Lovetenant Todrick.'" "'Od, man," said I to him, "'Od, man, ye're a deacon at telling a story.
Ye're a queer hand.

Weel, what came next ?" "What think ye should come next ?" quo' Thomas drily.
"I'm sure I dinna ken," answered I.
"Weel," said he, "I'll tell--but where was I at ?" "Ou, at the observe of Lovetenant Todrick, or what they caa'd him, about the tripe; and the answer of Duncan MacAlpine on that head, 'That ilka man has his ain taste.'" "'Vera true,' said Lovetenant Todrick, 'but lift it out a'thegither on that dish, till I get my specs on; for never since I was born, did I ever see before boiled tripe with buttons and button-holes intill't.'" At this I set up a loud laughing, which I could not help, though it was like to split my sides; but Thomas Burlings bade me whisht till I heard him out.
"'Buttons and button-holes!' quo' Duncan MacAlpine.

'Look again, wi' yer specs; for ye're surely wrang, Lovetenant Todrick.' "'Buttons and button-holes! and 'deed I am surely right, Duncan,' answered the Lovetenant Todrick, taking his specs deliberately off the brig o' his nose, and faulding them thegither, as he put them first into his shagreen case, and syne into his pocket--'Howsomever, Duncan MacAlpine, I'll pass ye ower for this time, gif ye take my warning, and for the future ware your pay-money on wholesome butcher's meat, like a Christian, and no be trying to delude your ain stamick, and your offisher's een, by holding up, on a fork, such a heathenish mak-up for a dish, as the leg of a pair o' buckskin breeches!'" "Buckskin breeches!" said I, "and did he really and actually boil siccan trash to his dinner ?" "Nae sae far south as that yet, friend," answered Thomas.