The occupant of the cart was an elderly man, whom accident had deprived of the lower part of his legs, both of which had been amputated just below the knee. He had the head of Falstaff, the shoulders of Hercules, and lack of exercise had made his thighs and back bulge out over the sides of his carriage, even as the bag of his pipes bulged under his elbow. He was dressed in tartan breeches and doublet, and he wore a huge Kilmarnock bonnet with a red knob on the top. The lower half of his face was distended by his occupation, and at the appearance of Flemington by the gate, he turned on him, above the billows of crimson cheek and grizzled whisker, the boldest pair of eyes that the young man had ever met. He was a masterly piper, and as the tune stopped a murmur of applause went through the audience. "Man, ye're the most mountaineous player in Scotland!" said the miller's man, who was a coiner of words. "Aye, dod, am I!" replied the piper. "Hae?" continued the miller's man, holding out an apple. The beggar took it with that silent wag of the back of the head which seems peculiar to the east coast of Scotland, and dropped it into the cart. Archie handed him a sixpence. "Ye'll hae to gie us mair noo!" cried the squinting child, whose eyes had seen straight enough, and who seemed to have a keen sense of values. "Aye, a sang this time," added its mother. "Ye'll get a pucklie meal an' a bawbee gin' ye sing 'The Tod,'"* [*Fox.] chimed in an old woman, who had suddenly put her head out of the upper story of the cottage. The beggar laid down his pipes and spat on earth. Then he opened his mouth and gave forth a voice whose volume, flexibility, and extreme sweetness seemed incredible, considering the being from whom it emanated. "There's a tod aye blinkin' when the nicht comes doon, Blinkin' wi' his lang een, and keekin' round an' roun', Creepin' by the farm-yaird when gloamin' is to fa', And syne there'll be a chicken or a deuk awa'. Aye, when the guidwife rises there's a deuk awa'! "There's a lass sits greetin' ben the hoose at hame, For when the guidwife's cankered she gie's her aye the blame, And sair the lassie's sabbin', and fast the tears fa', For the guidwife's tynt a bonnie hen, and it's awa'. Aye, she's no sae easy dealt wi' when her gear's awa'! "There's a lad aye roamin' when the day gets late, A lang-leggit deevil wi' his hand upon the gate, And aye the guidwife cries to him to gar the toddie fa', For she canna thole to let her chicks an' deuks awa'. Aye, the muckle bubbly-jock himsel' is ca'ed awa'! "The laddie saw the tod gae by, an' killed him wi' a stane, And the bonnie lass wha grat sae sair she sits nae mair her lane, But the guidwife's no contented yet--her like ye never saw, Cries she, 'This time it is the lass, an' she's awa'!' Aye, yon laddie's waur nor ony tod, for Jean's awa'!"