“I dare swear you are,” answered Bothwell; “you look like a fellow that would stick to brandy--help thyself, man; all’s free where’er I come.-- Tom, help the maid to a comfortable cup, though she’s but a dirty jilt neither. Fill round once more--Here’s to our noble commander, Colonel Graham of Claverhouse!--What the devil is the old woman groaning for? She looks as very a whig as ever sate on a hill-side--Do you renounce the Covenant, good woman?” “Whilk Covenant is your honour meaning? Is it the Covenant of Works, or the Covenant of Grace?” said Cuddie, interposing. “Any covenant; all covenants that ever were hatched,” answered the trooper. “Mither,” cried Cuddie, affecting to speak as to a deaf person, “the gentleman wants to ken if ye will renunce the Covenant of Works?” “With all my heart, Cuddie,” said Mause, “and pray that my feet may be delivered from the snare thereof.” “Come,” said Bothwell, “the old dame has come more frankly off than I expected. Another cup round, and then we’ll proceed to business.--You have all heard, I suppose, of the horrid and barbarous murder committed upon the person of the Archbishop of St Andrews, by ten or eleven armed fanatics?” All started and looked at each other; at length Milnwood himself answered, “They had heard of some such misfortune, but were in hopes it had not been true.” “There is the relation published by government, old gentleman; what do you think of it?” “Think, sir? Wh--wh--whatever the council please to think of it,” stammered Milnwood. “I desire to have your opinion more explicitly, my friend,” said the dragoon, authoritatively. Milnwood’s eyes hastily glanced through the paper to pick out the strongest expressions of censure with which it abounded, in gleaning which he was greatly aided by their being printed in italics. “I think it a--bloody and execrable--murder and parricide--devised by hellish and implacable cruelty--utterly abominable, and a scandal to the land.” “Well said, old gentleman!” said the querist--“Here’s to thee, and I wish you joy of your good principles. You owe me a cup of thanks for having taught you them; nay, thou shalt pledge me in thine own sack--sour ale sits ill upon a loyal stomach.--Now comes your turn, young man; what think you of the matter in hand?” “I should have little objection to answer you,” said Henry, “if I knew what right you had to put the question.” “The Lord preserve us!” said the old housekeeper, “to ask the like o’ that at a trooper, when a’ folk ken they do whatever they like through the haill country wi’ man and woman, beast and body.” The old gentleman exclaimed, in the same horror at his nephew’s audacity, “Hold your peace, sir, or answer the gentleman discreetly. Do you mean to affront the king’s authority in the person of a sergeant of the Life-Guards?”