"To stack my farm? Mr. Pleydell, your honour kens mony things, but ye dinna ken the farm o' Charlies-hope--it's sae weel stockit already, that we sell maybe sax hundred pounds off it ilka year, flesh and fell thegither--na, na." "Can't you take another then?" "I dinna ken--the Deuke's no that fond o' led farms, and he canna bide to put away the auld tenantry; and then I wadna like, mysell, to gang about whistling and raising the rent on my neighbours." [*Whistling, among the tenantry of a large estate, is, when an individual gives such information to the proprietor, or his managers, as to occasion the rent of his neighbour's farms being raised, which, for obvious reasons, is held a very unpopular practice.] "What, not upon thy neighbour at Dawston--Devilstone--how d'ye call the place?" "What, on Jock o' Dawston? hout na--he's a camsteary [*Obstinate and unruly.] chield, and fasheous [*Troublesome] about marches, and we've had some bits o' splores thegither; but deil o' me if I wad wrang Jock o' Dawston neither." "Thou'rt an honest fellow," said the lawyer; "get thee to bed. Thou wilt sleep sounder, I warrant thee, than many a man that throws off an embroidered coat, and puts on a laced nightcap.--Colonel, I see you are busy with our Enfant trouve. But Barnes must give me a summons of wakening at seven to-morrow morning, for my servant's a sleepy-headed fellow; and I dare say my clerk, Driver, has had Clarence's fate, and is drowned by this time in a butt of your ale; for Mrs. Allan promised to make him comfortable, and she'll soon discover what he expects from that engagement. Good-night, Colonel--good-night, Dominie Sampson--good-night, Dinmont the downright--good-night, last of all, to the new-found representative of the Bertrams, and the Mac-Dingawaies, the Knarths, the Arths, the Godfreys, the Dennises, and the Rolands, and, last and dearest title, heir of tailzie and provision of the lands and barony of Ellangowan, under the settlement of Lewis Bertram, Esq., whose representative you are." And so-saying, the old gentleman took his candle and left the room; and the company dispersed, after the Dominie had once more hugged and embraced his "little Harry Bertram," as he continued to call the young soldier of six feet high. CHAPTER LI. --My imagination Carries no favour in it but Bertram's; I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away.-- All's well that Ends Well.