Christmas Doings. 55 



full of Christmas cakes called buns and shortbread, 

 and a flagon of " net-pint " or posset, to wish our 

 friends a " Happy New Year." At Christmas time a 

 set of men, called the Christmas Wakes, walked 

 slowly through the streets during the midnight 

 hours, playing our sweet Scotch airs on flageolets. 

 I remember the sound from a distance fell gently 

 on my sleeping ear, swelled softly, and died away 

 in distance again, a passing breeze of sweet sound. 

 It was very pleasing ; some thought it too sad. 



My grandfather was intimate with the Bos wells 

 of Balmuto, a bleak place a few miles to the north 

 of Burntisland. Lord Balmuto, a Scotch judge, 

 who was then proprietor, had been a dancing com- 

 panion of my mother's, and had a son and two 

 daughters, the eldest a nice girl of my age, with whom 

 I was intimate, so I gladly accepted an invitation to 

 visit them at Balmuto. Lord Balmuto was a large 

 coarse-looking man, with black hair and beetling 

 eyebrows. Though not vulgar, he was passionate, 

 and had a boisterous manner. My mother and her 

 sisters gave him the nickname of the " black bull of 

 Norr'away," in allusion to the northern position of 

 Balmuto. Mrs. Boswell was gentle and lady-like. 

 The son had a turn for chemistry, and his father took 

 me to see what they called the Laboratory. What 

 a laboratory might be I knew not, as I had never 



