TOUR TO NORTH-WEST HIGHLANDS. 139 



thine amble gentle and measured, as thou wert a 

 lady's palfrey and no war-horse. Methought I saw 

 a light and there again ! 



Swivel. Some rnarsh-lanthorn or Will o' Wisp. 



May. Nay, Doctor, nay ; lift thy head and opine 

 on't. Is't this King's-house, think you ? 



Swivel. A haunted cairn, Bill, and a witch at her 

 cantrips. 



May. 'Tis the inn, Doctor, I wager a round sum. 

 Halt, and let me dismount ere I am jostled to death. 



Swivel. Thou art a poor equestrian, Bill but 

 look ! there be two figures approaching us from the 

 stream side. 



May. Heaven defend us ! move quicker. 



Swivel. thou craven ! where are thy ails and 

 heart-burns ? How gottest thou wings in such a 

 hurry ? Speed, speed, speed ! the Celts are after 

 thee, Bill ! (May-fly exit.) What hath seized the 

 fool, and who are here to harm him ? Do none walk 

 i' th' night save cut-throats ? white-liver ! what 

 cost is't to resemble a man, and by an assumption 

 of courage hold his attitude, albeit having no more 

 o' the true virtue in thee than a mouse's hide. 

 Were there not twain of us besides, should they 

 prove dishonest ? An air of common resolution 

 would have scared them. But these are no night 

 marauders. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Otter and Jack Leister. 

 Enter OTTER and LEISTER. 



Leister. Even so, Doctor. What dost thou here ? 



