"_Service_, man--wi' yeer _sarvice!_ will ye neer gie ower miscaaing his Majestie's English? But weel a weel, and it may not be the last I will render ye, so nae mair about it, man; I meant nae offence,--and to say sooth, my mind was away among the hill-folk, the puir persecuted remnant whereof my great-grandfather was an unworthy member; and mony a weary nicht did he skirl up the Psalms on the wet hillside, before he was exalted, with the cauld spongy fog[1] for a mattrass, and a damp rash bush for a pillow." [1] Moss. "Ho, ho!" chuckled Peter at this; "you are always gammoning about old stories, and book-larning; but I have you now, Master Lennox;--your great-grandfather was _exalted_, was he?--that is hanged, I suppose?" I was a good deal tickled at this, and listened, in spite of myself, to hear how my Scotch friend would brook this insinuation. Lennox replied, quite calmly--"He _was_ hanged." "Ha! ha! I have you on the hip now, my master," shouted Peter. "Indeed, man, you are a coorse-minded animal," responded the corporal. "I spoke in yae sense metaphorically, and alluded to his reward in Heaven--where I have nae doubt he went--but leeterally, I will no deny, in another; for he was in verity hanged by that villain Lauderdale in the Lawnmarket, and sang this very hundredth Psalm, that you have heard raised on board that vessel, at the"---- "What, the whole of it?" interrupted honest Peter. "Ay, the whole of it, from stem to stern, on the scaffold." Here poor Lennox's voice fell a little, so that honest Peter, thinking that the disclosure of his great-grandfather's _exaltation_, which, in his innocence, he considered he had cleverly wrung from him, was giving him pain, sung out, in what was meant for a consolatory tone--"Never mind, Lennox, man--don't mind; better men have been hanged than your grandfather;--but what was it for, man?"--his curiosity combating with his kindly feelings--"I dare say something the poor fellow had done in his drink; some unfortunate blow or thrust that rid the world of a vagabond; or a little bit of forgetfulness in signing another man's name for his own, eh?" "Why, freend Peter," chimed in Lennox, "since ye crack sae croose--wha may _yeer_ great-grandfather hae been?--tell me that." Peter was rather caught. He twisted himself about. "My father I know--I am sure I had a father,--and a grandfather too, I suppose; but as to a great-grandfather"---- "I say, Peter, my man, 'never cudgel yeer brains about it,' as Shakspeare hath it; and never again disparage a man wha can authentically show that he had a great-grandfather, even although he had the misfortune to be hanged, until ye can honestly tell whether ye ever had a grandfather or no _at all_. But _none_ of these brought him to his end, noo since ye _maun ken_." "Well, well, I hope it was not for stealing," said honest Peter, bearing no malice; "that's a low vice, you knows, Lennox."