“The housekeeper,” said Bothwell, taking a seat, and throwing himself upon it, “is neither so young nor so handsome as to tempt a man to follow her to the gauntrees, and devil a one here is there worth sending in her place.--What’s this?--meat?” (searching with a fork among the broth, and fishing up a cutlet of mutton)--“I think I could eat a bit--why, it’s as tough as if the devil’s dam had hatched it.” “If there is any thing better in the house, sir,” said Milnwood, alarmed at these symptoms of disapprobation--“No, no,” said Bothwell, “it’s not worth while, I must proceed to business.--You attend Poundtext, the presbyterian parson, I understand, Mr Morton?” Mr Morton hastened to slide in a confession and apology. “By the indulgence of his gracious majesty and the government, for I wad do nothing out of law--I hae nae objection whatever to the establishment of a moderate episcopacy, but only that I am a country-bred man, and the ministers are a hamelier kind of folk, and I can follow their doctrine better; and, with reverence, sir, it’s a mair frugal establishment for the country.” “Well, I care nothing about that,” said Bothwell; “they are indulged, and there’s an end of it; but, for my part, if I were to give the law, never a crop-ear’d cur of the whole pack should bark in a Scotch pulpit. However, I am to obey commands.--There comes the liquor; put it down, my good old lady.” He decanted about one-half of a quart bottle of claret into a wooden quaigh or bicker, and took it off at a draught. “You did your good wine injustice, my friend;--it’s better than your brandy, though that’s good too. Will you pledge me to the king’s health?” “With pleasure,” said Milnwood, “in ale,--but I never drink claret, and keep only a very little for some honoured friends.” “Like me, I suppose,” said Bothwell; and then, pushing the bottle to Henry, he said, “Here, young man, pledge you the king’s health.” Henry filled a moderate glass in silence, regardless of the hints and pushes of his uncle, which seemed to indicate that he ought to have followed his example, in preferring beer to wine. “Well,” said Bothwell, “have ye all drank the toast?--What is that old wife about? Give her a glass of brandy, she shall drink the king’s health, by”--“If your honour pleases,” said Cuddie, with great stolidity of aspect, “this is my mither, stir; and she’s as deaf as Corra-linn; we canna mak her hear day nor door; but if your honour pleases, I am ready to drink the king’s health for her in as mony glasses of brandy as ye think neshessary.”