Saddletree," said Butler, thus pushed hard for an answer. His faint and exhausted tone of voice was instantly drowned in the sonorous bray of Bartholine.

"No understand me, man ?-Ictus is Latin for a lawyer, is it not?"

"Not that ever I heard of," answered Butler, in the same dejected tone..

"The de'il ye didna!-See, man, I got the word but this morning out of a memorial of Mr Crossmyloof's-see there it is, ictus clarissimus et perti-peritissimus-it's a' Latin, for it's printed in the Italian types."

"O you mean juris-consultus-Ictus is! an abbreviation for juris-consultus.”

"Dinna tell me, man," persevered Saddle tree, "there's nae abbreviates except in adjudications; and this is a' about a servitude of water-drap that is to say, tillicidian, (maybe ye'll say that's no Latin neither) in Mary King's Close, in the High Street.".. Very likely," said poor Butler, overwhelmed by the noisy perseverance of his

He meant, probably, stillicidium..

3

visitor. you."

"I am not able to dispute with

"Few folks are few folks áre, Mr Butler, though I say it, that should na say it,” returned Bartholine, with great delight. "Now it will be twa hours yet or ye're wanted in the schule, and as ye are no weel, I'll sit wi' you to divert ye, and explain t'ye the nature of a tillicidian. Ye maun ken the prisoner, Mrs Crombie, a very decent woman, is a friend of mine, and I hae stude her friend in this case, and brought her wi' credit into the court, and I doubtna, that in due time she will win out o't wi' credit, win she or lose she. Ye see, being an inferior tenement or laigh. house, we grant ourselves to be burthened wi' the tillicide, that is, that we are obligated to receive the natural water-drap of the superior tenement, sae far as the same fa's frae the heavens, or the roof of our neighbour's house, and from thence by the gutters or eaves upon our laigh tenement. But the other night comes a Highland

quean of a lass, and she flashes, God kens what, out at the eastmost window of Mrs MacPhail's house, that's the superior tenement. I believe the auld women wad hae greed, for Luckie MacPhail sent down the lass to tell my friend Mrs Crombie that she had made the gardy-loo out of the wrang window, out of respect for twa Highlandmen that were speaking Gaelic in the close below the right ane. But luckily for Mrs Crombie, I just chanced to come in in time to break aff the communing, for it's a pity the point suldna be tried. We had Mrs MacPhail into the Ten Mark Court-The hieland limmer of a lass wanted to swear herself free-but haud ye there, says I"

The detailed account of this important suit might have lasted until poor Butler's hour of rest was completely exhausted, had not Saddletree been interrupted by the noise of voices at the door. The woman of the house where Butler lodged, on returning with her pitcher from the well, whence she had been fetching water for the

family, found our heroine Jeanie Deans standing at the door, impatient of the prolix harangue of Saddletree, yet unwilling to enter until he should have taken his leave.

The good woman abridged the period of hesitation by enquiring, "Was ye wanting the gudeman or me, lass?"

"I wanted to speak with Mr Butler, if he's at leisure," replied Jeanie.

Gang in bye then, my woman," answered the goodwife; and opening the door of a room, she announced the additional visitor, with " Mr Butler, here's a lass wants to speak t'ye."

The surprise of Butler was extreme, when Jeanie, who seldom stirred half a mile from home, entered his apartment upon this annunciation.

"Good God!" he said, starting from his chair, while alarm restored to his cheek the colour of which sickness had deprived it; "some new misfortune must have happened."

"None, Mr Reuben, but what you must hae heard of but O ye are looking ill yoursell!"—for the " hectic of a moment" had not concealed from her affectionate eye the ravages which lingering disease and anxiety of mind had made in her lover's person.

"No: I am well-quite well," said Butler, with eagerness; " if I can do anything "if to assist you, Jeanie-or your father."

"Ay, to be sure," said Saddletree; "the family may be considered as limited to them twa now, just as if Effie had never been in the tailzie, puir thing. But Jeanie, lass, what brings you out to Libberton sae air in the morning, and your father lying ill in the Luckenbooths ?"

"I had a message frae my father to Mr Butler," said Jeanie, with embarrassment; but instantly feeling ashamed of the fiction to which she had resorted, for her love of and veneration for truth was almost quaker like, she corrected herself" that is to say, I wanted to speak with Mr Butler about