The meeting broke up about one in the morning, and as I was putting on my topcoat I observed some waiters busy arranging tumblers, &c., in the next room, and wondered what meeting there could be at that hour. It was ourselves! A new chairman and croupier were elected, and we began again. I don't know when this meeting broke up, for my watch had stopped. It was a dark night, or morning rather, when Stewart and I set out for home; and I should think we would be about half-way when I grew very eloquent in praise of Burns, and I had just finished what I thought a grand quotation, and was waiting for Stewart's approbation, when I discovered I had lost him. This caused me the greatest concern, for I thought he had taken what some people would call "just plenty," and others "too much." So I immediately sat down to look for him. I felt a little overcome; and though the grass was damp and there was a cold wind whistling through the hedge, I must have waited a considerable time without finding Stewart. So I determined to go without him. I had gone about a mile, I should imagine, and was thinking I must be near home, when I heard in the distance a glee-party singing "We are na fou." As we approached I heard the rumble of a trap, which turned out to contain some of the party who had been detained by a second adjournment. They recognised me in passing by the light of their lamps, and pulled up, asking where I was going. I said, "To Brewlands," the name of Stewart's place. I think they laughed, and told me I was going the wrong way, and that if I had gone a little farther I would soon have been at the hotel. I did not want them to know I was not aware of where I was going, and explained I was looking for "Brewlands," the name Stewart usually gets, as farmers are generally called by the name of their farm. "Jump in," they said, "there's nae fear o' him; he can aye find his way hame. We'll tak' ye up an' see if he has onything in the bottle." They were right. When we arrived at the farm we saw a light in the dining-room, and Stewart, evidently hearing the sound of the wheels on the gravel, came out, and when he found I was one of the company he said, "Whaur hev ye been? Man, I was jist comin' oot to look for ye. I didna miss ye till I was near hame, an' I thocht I wad jist gang in for a lantern." He had evidently not had time to get the lantern, but I noticed he had found time to take a dram, as the bottle was on the table, and a tumbler with what appeared to be whisky and water in it. Stewart's version of the affair was quite different from mine. He explained to the party that he was reciting some o' Robbie's fine bits to me when he became aware that he wasn't, for I was not there. "An' noo I think on't," he said, "I fancy I dae mind o' a sound like you sittin' doon suddenly on the roadside."