held myself bound upon my vanity to make good that boastfulness. Nay,
and he hit me with the other end of the stick; for he accused me of a

kind of artful cowardice, going about at the expense of a little risk
to purchase greater safety. No doubt, until I had declared and cleared

myself, I might any day encounter Mungo Campbell or the sheriff's
officer, and be recognised, and dragged into the Appin murder by the

heels; and, no doubt, in case I could manage my declaration with
success, I should breathe more free for ever after. But when I looked

this argument full in the face I could see nothing to be ashamed of.
As for the rest, "Here are the two roads," I thought, "and both go to

the same place. It's unjust that James should hang if I can save him;
and it would be ridiculous in me to have talked so much and then do

nothing. It's lucky for James of the Glens that I have boasted
beforehand; and none so unlucky for myself, because now I'm committed

to do right. I have the name of a gentleman and the means of one; it
would be a poor duty that I was wanting in the essence." And then I

thought this was a Pagan spirit, and said a prayer in to myself, asking
for what courage I might lack, and that I might go straight to my duty

like a soldier to battle, and come off again scatheless, as so many do.
This train of reasoning brought me to a more resolved complexion;

though it was far from closing up my sense of the dangers that
surrounded me, nor of how very apt I was (if I went on) to stumble on

the ladder of the gallows. It was a plain, fair morning, but the wind
in the east. The little chill of it sang in my blood, and gave me a

feeling of the autumn, and the dead leaves, and dead folks' bodies in
their graves. It seemed the devil was in it, if I was to die in that

tide of my fortunes and for other folks' affairs. On the top of the
Calton Hill, though it was not the customary time of year for that

diversion, some children were crying and running with their kites.
These toys appeared very plain against the sky; I remarked a great one

soar on the wind to a high altitude and then plump among the whins; and
I thought to myself at sight of it, "There goes Davie."

My way lay over Mouter's Hill, and through an end of a clachan on the
braeside among fields. There was a whirr of looms in it went from

house to house; bees bummed in the gardens; the neighbours that I saw
at the doorsteps talked in a strange tongue; and I found out later that

this was Picardy, a village where the French weavers wrought for the
Linen Company. Here I got a fresh direction for Pilrig, my

destination; and a little beyond, on the wayside, came by a gibbet and
two men hanged in chains. They were dipped in tar, as the manner is;

the wind span them, the chains clattered, and the birds hung about the
uncanny jumping-jacks and cried. The sight coming on me suddenly, like

an illustration of my fears, I could scarce be done with examining it
and drinking in discomfort. And, as I thus turned and turned about the

gibbet, what should I strike on, but a weird old wife, that sat behind
a leg of it, and nodded, and talked aloud to herself with becks and

courtesies.
"Who are these two, mother?" I asked, and pointed to the corpses.

"A blessing on your precious face!" she cried. "Twa joes o'mine: just
two o' my old joes, my hinny dear."

"What did they suffer for?" I asked.
"Ou, just for the guid cause," said she. "Aften I spaed to them the

way that it would end. Twa shillin' Scots: no pickle mair; and there
are twa bonny callants hingin' for 't! They took it frae a wean

belanged to Brouchton."
"Ay!" said I to myself, and not to the daft limmer, "and did they come

to such a figure for so poor a business? This is to lose all indeed."
"Gie's your loof, hinny," says she, "and let me spae your weird to ye."

"No, mother," said I, "I see far enough the way I am. It's an unco
thing to see too far in front."

"I read it in your bree," she said. "There's a bonnie lassie that has
bricht een, and there's a wee man in a braw coat, and a big man in a

pouthered wig, and there's the shadow of the wuddy, joe, that lies
braid across your path. Gie's your loof, hinny, and let Auld Merren

spae it to ye bonny."
The two chance shots that seemed to point at Alan and the daughter of

James More struck me hard; and I fled from the eldritch creature,
casting her a baubee, which she continued to sit and play with under

the moving shadows of the hanged.
My way down the causeway of Leith Walk would have been more pleasant to

me but for this encounter. The old rampart ran among fields, the like
of them I had never seen for artfulness of agriculture; I was pleased,

besides, to be so far in the still countryside; but the shackles of the
gibbet clattered in my head; and the mope and mows of the old witch,

and the thought of the dead men, hag-rode my spirits. To hang on a
gallows, that seemed a hard case; and whether a man came to hang there

for two shillings Scots, or (as Mr. Stewart had it) from the sense of
duty, once he was tarred and shackled and hung up, the difference

seemed small. There might David Balfour hang, and other lads pass on
their errands and think light of him; and old daft limmers sit at a

leg-foot and spae their fortunes; and the clean genty maids go by, and
look to the other aide, and hold a nose. I saw them plain, and they

had grey eyes, and their screens upon their heads were of the Drummed
colours.

I was thus in the poorest of spirits, though still pretty resolved,
when I came in view of Pilrig, a pleasant gabled house set by the

walkside among some brave young woods. The laird's horse was standing
saddled at the door as I came up, but himself was in the study, where

he received me in the midst of learned works and musical instruments,
for he was not only a deep philosopher but much of a musician. He

greeted me at first pretty well, and when he had read Rankeillor's
letter, placed himself obligingly at my disposal.

"And what is it, cousin David!" said he - "since it appears that we are
cousins - what is this that I can do for you! A word to Prestongrange!

Doubtless that is easily given. But what should be the word?"
"Mr. Balfour," said I, "if I were to tell you my whole story the way it

fell out, it's my opinion (and it was Rankeillor's before me) that you
would be very little made up with it."

"I am sorry to hear this of you, kinsman," says he.
"I must not take that at your hands, Mr. Balfour," said I; "I have

nothing to my charge to make me sorry, or you for me, but just the
common infirmities of mankind. 'The guilt of Adam's first sin, the

want of original righteousness, and the corruption of my whole nature,'
so much I must answer for, and I hope I have been taught where to look

for help," I said; for I judged from the look of the man he would think
the better of me if I knew my questions. "But in the way of worldly

honour I have no great stumble to reproach myself with; and my
difficulties have befallen me very much against my will and (by all

that I can see) without my fault. My trouble is to have become dipped
in a political complication, which it is judged you would be blythe to

avoid a knowledge of."
"Why, very well, Mr. David," he replied, "I am pleased to see you are

all that Rankeillor represented. And for what you say of political
complications, you do me no more than justice. It is my study to be

beyond suspicion, and indeed outside the field of it. The question
is," says he, "how, if I am to know nothing of the matter, I can very

well assist you?"
"Why sir," said I, "I propose you should write to his lordship, that I

am a young man of reasonable good family and of good means: both of
which I believe to be the case."

"I have Rankeillor's word for it," said Mr. Balfour, "and I count that
a warran-dice against all deadly."

"To which you might add (if you will take my word for so much) that I
am a good churchman, loyal to King George, and so brought up," I went

on.
"None of which will do you any harm," said Mr. Balfour.