THE BARLEY BREE 255 



' never tell me that three glasses o' Susy's whisky 

 will fill ye fou, when ye have drank twa o' mine, 

 which you say is three times as strong, and you 

 feel all the better for it.' Hey, mon, I never was 

 so ta'en by the face in a' my life ! I didna ken 

 where to luk. The deil faw me if ever he cotch 

 me so again ! " 



Tom Purdie's forbearance, however, was not of 

 an enduring quality ; his eyes glistened as he 

 followed the course of the bottle ; three times was 

 his arm extended to make a grap at it, and thrice 

 did he draw it back with modest confusion. At 

 length when all were served he could hold out no 

 longer, but elongating his dexter, he laid fast hold 

 of the bottle, and filling the quaigh to the brim, 

 " Here goes," said he, " to the lousy stranger." 

 After he had drunk, and mended his draught, he 

 kept the bottle in his own custody with a pretty 

 smart allowance in it, in the character of residuary 

 legatee. I had an account, however, to settle with 

 him ; for being the only stranger in company, I 

 fancied his toast meant a reflection upon my 

 cleanliness. What did he mean by the dirty and 

 degrading epithet ? This I demanded, advancing 

 with a warlike countenance, and leister in the rest ; 

 and had not Tom been in a very benign humour, 

 this book might never have been inflicted on the 

 public, for the man was well armed and resolute, 

 and might have leistered me according to art. But 

 putting on his sweetest smile, he assured me that 

 by the " lousy stranger " he meant a newly-run fish 

 with tide lice on it, " which," said he, " are far the 

 best, ye ken." This I well knew, though the 



