It gave me a kind of pain to think of him and his dogs, all lying in the dust together; and yet it was pleasant to hear this little remark of him, as if it were made by those who had often seen, and were fond of thinking of him. The dog's name was Coal, and he was black enough, and remarkable enough, to make a figure in a story—a genuine Melrose Abbey dog. I should not wonder if he were a descendant, in a remote degree, of the "mauthe doog," that supernatural beast, which Scott commemorates in his notes. The least touch in the world of such blood in his veins would be, of course, an appropriate circumstance in a dog belonging to an old ruined abbey.
Well, I got home, and narrated my adventures to my friends, and showed them my reliquary purchases, and declared my strengthening intention to make my ghostly visit by moonlight, if there was any moon to be had that night, which was a doubtful possibility.
In the course of the evening came in Mr. ——, who had volunteered his services as guide and attendant during the interesting operation.
"When does the moon rise?" said one.
"O, a little after eleven o'clock, I believe," said Mr. ——.
Some of the party gaped portentously.
"You know," said I, "Scott says we must see it by moonlight; it is one of the proprieties of the place, as I understand."
"How exquisite that description is, of the effect of moonlight!" says another.
"I think it probable," says Mr. ——, dryly, "that Scott never saw it by moonlight himself. He was a man of very regular habits, and seldom went out evenings."
The blank amazement with which this communication was received set S—— into an inextinguishable fit of laughter.