'Awake, my St John! leave all meaner things To low ambition, and the pride of kings; Let us (since life can little more supply), Than just to look about us, and to die----' "'Come, come, Willie, nane o' yer blarney for me,' said Sandy, now dismounting. 'Ye're no gaun to saft-sape me that way. What kind o' horses were they ye selt us? "'Just the very pick o' the country,' replied Willie, coolly. "'Ay, if ye mean the warst,' said Sandy. 'But to come to the point at ance--I'm sent here, Willie, by Mr Darsy--although I ken weel it's a fruitless errand--to tell ye that yer horses hae turned oot to be no worth their hides; that yer black ane has changed to a dirty grey wi' a shower o' rain, and is dead lame; and that the brown ane'll neither work in plough nor cart.' "'Dear me, Sandy, ye surprise me!' replied Willie, with a look of amazement as like the genuine as it was possible for any man to assume. "'Maybe I do,' said Sandy; 'but I hardly believe it. However, this being the case, my master has sent me to say that he expects you'll refund him the siller, as ye promised, or find him ither twa horses worth the amount, in their stead.' "'Whee-ee-ee-ou!' whistled Willie. 'Is that the next o't? Weel, I didna think your maister was sae unreasonable a man as that comes to, Sandy; but there's a heap o' queer folk in this world.' "'My feth! there's that,' said the latter; 'and some o' them no far aff.' "'As lang's _ye're_ sae near, ye may say that, Sandy,' replied Willie; 'but to gie ye an answer to Mr Darsy, tell him, wi' my compliments, Sandy, that there's a truth among Pope's maxims that he doesna seem to hae fan oot. Tell him, wi' my best respects, that, in 'Spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear, whatever is, is right. Tell ye him _that_, Sandy, and I'm sure he'll be perfectly satisfied.' "'Do ye no mean to refund the money, then?' inquired Sandy. "'Deil a cowrie,' said Willie. "'Nor to gie him ither horses in exchange?' "'No a hoof.' "'Weel, then, _ye_ are an infernal scoundrel--that's a' I hae to say,' replied Sandy, remounting his pony, and starting off on his return home. "On arriving at Dryfield, Sandy hastened to Mr Darsy's apartment, to inform him of the result of his mission, but, on opening the door, drew hastily back again, on finding a stranger in the room. "'Come in--come in, Sandy,' said Mr Darsy, on observing the former retreating. 'This gentleman will excuse your intrusion; for he is a 'Friend to truth! of soul sincere, In action faithful, and in honour clear.'