The first to welcome the new laird to his property was Macculloch the factor. Urquhart of Meldrum, or Captain Urquhart, as he was termed, had made his money on sea--some said as a gallant officer in the Spanish service, some as the master of a privateer, or even, it was whispered, as a pirate. He was a rough unpolished man, fond of a rude joke, and disposed to seek his companions among farmers and mechanics, rather than among the people of a higher sphere. But, with all his rudeness, he was shrewd and intelligent, and qualified, by a peculiar tact, to be a judge of men. When Macculloch was shown into his room, he neither returned his bow nor motioned him to a seat, though the lawyer, no way daunted, proceeded to address him in a long train of compliments and congratulations. “Humph!” replied the Captain. “Ah!” thought the lawyer, “you will at least hear reason.” He proceeded to state, that as he had been intrusted with the sole management of Sir George’s affairs, he was better acquainted than any one else with the resources of the estate and the character of the tenants; and that, should Mr. Urquhart please to continue him in his office, he would convince him he was the fittest person to occupy it to his advantage. “Humph!” replied the Captain; “for how many years, Sir lawyer, have you been factor to Mackenzie?” “For about five,” was the reply. “And was he not a good master?” “Yes, sir, rather good, certainly--but his unfortunate habits.” “His habits!--he drank grog, did he not? and served it out for himself? So do I. Mark me, Sir factor! You are a ---- mean rascal, and shall never finger a penny of mine. You found in Mackenzie a good simple fellow, who employed you when no one else would; but no sooner had he unshipped himself than you hoisted colours for me, ---- you, whom, I suppose, you could tie up to the yard-arm for somewhat less than a bred hangman would tie up a thief for;--ay, that you would! I have heard of your dinner, sir, and your bonfires, and of the death of Lady Margaret (had you another bonfire for that?) and now tell you once for all, that I despise you as one of the meanest ---- rascals that ever turned tail on a friend in distress. Off, sir--there is the door!” Such was the reward of Macculloch. In a few years after, he had sunk into poverty and contempt; one instance of many, that rascality, however profitable in the degree, may be carried to a ruinous extreme, and that he who sets out with a determination of cheating every one, may at length prove too cunning for even himself.