to question:  although, were we to do so, ours would not he a solitary specimen of such ingratitude.[18] On the day of our publishing the first portion, we received a notice to desist from its continuance,—­full of the causticity of our friends on the other side of the Tweed, and with whom, for the credit of the south, we hope the measure originated.  We next resolved to suspend the conclusion; since the brutum fulmen became louder and louder still, in an advertisement actively inserted in the London newspapers.  To make short of what is and ought to be but a trifling affair, we have abridged the whole story, and accordingly now present the conclusion to our readers, though certainly not in the promised state; how far we have exculpated ourselves, is for our patrons to determine.—­A few words at parting, on the policy of the above conduct.  We need not enlarge upon the advantages which publishers (and, to some extent, authors) derive from portions of their works appearing in periodical journals.  The benefit is not reciprocal, but largely on their side, if they consider how many columns of advertisement duty they thereby avoid.  It is well known that the first edition of any work by such a master-spirit as Sir Walter Scott is consumed in a few days by the circulating libraries and reading societies of the kingdom; but how many thousands would neither have seen nor heard of his most successful works, had not the gusto been previously created by the caducei of these literary Mercuries.  Again, sift any one of them, with higher pretensions to originality than our economical sheet will admit of, and you shall find it, in quantity, at least, to resemble Gratiano’s three grains.  But we are not inclined to quarrel with the scheme, for with Johnson we say, “Quotation, sir (Walter), is a good thing,” in the hope of hearing our readers reply, “This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons peas.”—­ED.]

Some words passed after the departure, of Robin Oig, between the bailiff, and Harry Wakefield, who was now not indisposed to defend Robin Oig’s reputation.  But Dame Heskett prevented this second quarrel by her peremptory interference.  The conversation turned on the expected markets, and the prices from different parts of Scotland and England, and Harry Wakefield found a chap for a part of his drove, and at a considerable profit; an event more than sufficient to blot out all remembrances of the past scuffle.  But there remained one from whose mind that recollection could not have been wiped by possession of every head of cattle betwixt Esk and Eden.

This was Robin Oig M’Combich.—­“That I should have had no weapon,” he said, “and for the first time in my life!—­Blighted be the tongue that bids the Highlander part with the dirk—­the dirk—­ha! the English blood!—­My muhme’s word—­when did her word fall to the ground?”