“My feelings were in such a state that I couldna write mysel’, and I got a minister to send a letter to my mother, puir woman, stating what had happened.  An acquaintance o’ my faither’s looked after the cattle, and disposed o’ them at Morpeth; and I, having hired a hearse at Alnwick, got the body o’ my faither taen hame.  A sorrowfu’ hame-gaun it was, ye may weel think.  Before ever we reached the house, I heard the shrieks o’ my puir mither.  ‘O my faitherless bairn!’ she cried, as I entered the door; but before she could rise to meet me, she got a glent o’ the coffin which they were takin’ out o’ the hearse, and utterin’ a sudden scream, her head fell back, and she gaed clean awa.

“After my faither’s funeral, we found that he had died worth only about four hundred pounds when his debts were paid; and as I had been bred in the droving line, though I was rather young, I just continued it, and my mother and me kept house thegither.

“This was the only thing particular that happened to me for the next thirteen years, or till I was thirty.  My mother still kept the house, and I had nae thoughts o’ marrying:  no but that I had gallanted a wee bit wi’ the lasses now and then, but it was naething serious, and was only to be neighbour-like.  I had ne’er seen ane that I could think o’ takin’ for better for warse; and, anither thing, if I had seen ane to please me, I didna think my mother would be comfortable wi’ a young wife in the house.  Weel, ye see, as I was telling ye, things passed on in this way till I was thirty, when a respectable flesher in Edinburgh that I did a good deal o’ business wi’, and that had just got married, says to me in the Grassmarket ae day:  ‘Davy,’ says he, ‘ye’re no gaun out o’ the toun the night—­will ye come and tak’ tea and supper wi’ the wife and me, and a freend or twa?’

“‘I dinna care though I do,’ says I; ‘but I’m no just in a tea-drinkin’ dress.’

“‘Ne’er mind the dress,’ says he.  So, at the hour appointed, I stepped awa ower to Hanover Street, in the New Town, where he lived, and was shown into a fine carpeted room, wi’ a great looking-glass, in a gilt frame, ower the chimley-piece—­ye could see yoursel’ at full length in’t the moment you entered the door.  I was confounded at the carpets and the glass, and a sofa, nae less; and, thinks I, ‘This shows what kind o’ bargains ye get frae me.’  There were three or four leddies sitting in the room; and ‘Mr. Stuart, leddies,’ said the flesher; ’Mr. Stuart, Mrs. So-and-so,’ said he again—­’Miss Murray, Mr. Stuart.’  I was like to drap at the impudence o’ the creatur—­he handed me about as if I had been a bairn at a dancin’ school.  ‘Your servant, leddies,’ said I; and didna ken where to look, when I got a glimpse o’ my face in the glass, and saw it was as red as crimson.  But I was mair than ever put about when the tea was brought in, and the creatur says to me, ’Mr. Stuart, will you assist the leddies?’ ‘Confound him,’ thought I, ’has he