"Perfectly true," replied Duncan. "I promised to pay the bill, and should hae paid the bill; but I was determined I wadna pay the bill. Accordingly, I ran awa for nae ither purpose than to avoid payin it." "A trick ye'll no play a second time," said the publican seizing him. "No," said Duncan, taking out the money, "seein I am come to pay ye plack and farthin. Let us adjourn to Mr. Gavin's prison." "The vera place I intended to tak ye to," said the man. They proceeded to the room where Andrew was confined, and found him sitting in a sombre fit of melancholy. As they entered, he looked at Duncan with an appearance of mixed anger and satisfaction. The latter feeling predominated, as his mind suggested that the poor weaver had been prevented by drunkenness from returning immediately to pay the bill, and had now come to make amends. "I have been angry at you, Duncan," said he; "but I might have had more faith in your honour, than to doubt you, without better proof of dishonesty than not returning (when you were not able) to pay your debts." "Ye couldna hae a better proof o' my dishonesty," replied Duncan, sternly; "for, last nicht, when I ran awa withoot payin the lawin, I had nae mair intention o' comin back than I had o' gangin doun to the bottomless pit." Andrew looked at the speaker with the same amazement as was exhibited by his wife. "How comes it, then," said the writer, "that thou hast returned here this morning?" "I hae got some new _licht_," replied Andrew. "Ye ken-- 'So long's the lamp hold's on to burn The greatest sinner may return.' I hae returned, no only to this tavern to pay my debt, but to a proper sense o' what is due to Heaven and to my fellow-creatures. I am a changed man, sir. Nae 'vision o' judgment,' penned by Southey or Byron, ever transcended that o' the bottle-blawers o' Leith." The writer considered him mad, and trembled for the payment of the bill, which could not be extorted from a maniac. The tavern-keeper took a calmer view, and thought he was still drunk. "What are ye starin at?" said Duncan. "Did ye never before see a repentant sinner? Bring yer bill, sir. And, Mr. Gavin, I refer ye to Mrs. Gavin for some information, regarding a wab o' rotten linen I sauld ye yesterday, bought back again, and sauld again to her this mornin." The tavern-keeper brought the bill, which Duncan discharged. "I cheated ye, Mr. Gavin, also o' the price o' the stirrup-cup." "Let us drink it now," said Mr. Gavin--"Bring us a gill"--to the tavern-keeper. The whisky was brought, and the writer took cleverly his morning dram, a practice which the craft has latterly renounced, but which they should have recourse to again, as a glass of whisky is a good beginning to a day's roguery, and has, besides, sometimes the same effect upon the conscience that it produces on the toothache--stills the pain. A glass was next filled out for Duncan. He took it up and held it in his hand.