“Maybe,” replied her Ladyship; “but it has been long in our family. I copied these lines out of a muckle book entitled the _Prophecie of Pitlyal_, just before I came to you, in order to have your opinion on some of the obscure passages of it. And you will do me a great favour if you will read it out loud, and I will tell you what I think of it as you go on.” ‘Here, then, with a smile at the oddity of the request, and a mixture of impatience in his manner, he read the following lines, while she interrupted him occasionally to remark upon their meaning: When the crown and the head shall disgrace ane anither, And the Bishops on the Bench shall gae a’ wrang thegither; When Tory or Whig, Fills the judge’s wig; When the Lint o’ the Miln Shall reek on the kiln; O’er the Light of the North, When the Glamour breaks forth, And its wild-fire so red With the daylight is spread; When woman shrinks not from the ordeal of tryal, There is triumph and fame to the House of Pitlyal. “We ha’e seen the crown and the head,” she said, “disgrace ane anither no very lang syne, and ye may judge whether the bishops gaed right or wrang on that occasion; and the _Tory_ and _Whig_ may no be very ancient, and yet never be the less true. Then there is the Lint o’ the Miln—we have witnessed that come to pass; but what the ‘Light of the North’ can mean, and the ‘Glamour,’ I canna mak’ out. The twa hindmost lines seem to me to point at Queen Caroline; and if it had pleased God to spare my son, I might have guessed he would have made a figure on her trial, and have brought ‘Triumph and fame to the House of Pitlyal.’ I begin, however, to think that the prophecie may be fulfilled in the person of my daughter, for which reason I have brought her to Edinburgh to see and get a gude match for her.” ‘Here Mr Jeffrey put on a smile, half serious half quizzical, and said: “I suppose it would not be necessary for the gentleman to change his name.” “It would be weel worth his while, sir; she has a very gude estate, and she’s a very bonny lassie, and she’s equally related baith to Airlie and Strathmore; and a’body in our part of the warld ca’s her the Rosebud of Pitlyal.” ‘Mr Jeffrey smiled as his eyes met the glance of the beautiful flower that was so happily placed before him; but the Rosebud herself returned no sign of intelligence. ‘A pause in the conversation now ensued, which was interrupted by her Ladyship asking Mr Jeffrey to tell her where she could procure a set of _fause teeth_. “_Of what?_” said he, with an expression of astonishment, while the whole frame of the young lady shook with some internal emotion. “A set of fause teeth,” she repeated; and was again echoed by the interrogation, “_What?_”