"I mind it weel, for it spread from ilk shoulder to the other, covering corslet and pauldrons."
"Well, as he combed it out with a steel comb twelve inches long, and buckled on his armour, lo! there appeared before him, in the mirror—what think ye all?"
"I know not," replied the bailie, in his abstraction contriving to fill a third jug of ale; "but many strange sights were seen in those days. We a' ken o' the spectres that King James saw at Lithgow Kirk and Jeddart Ha', and of the weird spirit-herald who summoned the souls of the slain—the doomed men of the battle at Edinburgh Cross."
"But what think you my poor husband saw!"
"As I live, I know not," replied the bailie; while the hushed crowd of dependents drew near to listen.
"A mort head where his own comely face should have been!"
"Preserve us a'!"
"Our lady o' Whitehorn!"
"Say ye so, my lady?" were the varied exclamations of the servants.
"Yes!—there stood the shining reflection of his cuirass, pauldrons, and sleeves of Milan plate, just as we see them limned in yonder portrait; but the gorget was surmounted by a grinning skull. And yet he fell not with the king on that fatal ninth of September."