Both Quirkum and Skimclean at once declared their willingness to do so—the latter from a wish to serve his friend, the former from a wish to serve himself, as he saw in the affair something like the promise of a very tolerable job.
In the meantime, Moffat, rather alarmed at the formal and business-like manner in which his complimentary remarks on the laird's character had been taken up, first endeavoured to back out of the scrape, and, in default of success in this, sneaked out of the room, leaving the laird an infinitely happier man than he had found him; for he was now provided with a most unexceptionable ground for an action-at-law. It was a most unexpected piece of good fortune; chance having done for him in a moment what a long period of anxiety, directed to the same end, had failed to accomplish. It was truly delightful, and the laird was delighted, delighted beyond measure. But, alas! by how frail a tenure is all earthly felicity held! By how frail a thread is life itself suspended! We make the remark, and the sequel illustrates it.
The laird having given instructions on the spot to Quirkum to commence an action immediately against his defamer, the party broke up. The professional member repaired to his own house, and the laird and Skimclean mounted the Greenock coach, which passed within a short distance of their respective residences. Fatal proceedings. The coach was overturned, and the laird, falling on his head, received an injury which, in half-an-hour, proved fatal to him. Skimclean, more fortunate, escaped with some slight bruises. The latter was the first to come to the poor laird's assistance after the vehicle had capsised. He found him lying on his face on the road, bleeding profusely, and apparently insensible. On turning him round, however, and raising him up a little, he opened his eyes, and, recognising Drumwhussle, said, in a slow and scarcely audible tone—"The record's closed wi' me, Skimclean. I hae gotten my mittimus. Fate has decerned against me. It was an irregular summons; but it maun be obeyed, for a' that."
The poor laird was now conveyed to an adjoining house, where he was assiduously attended by his friend, Skimclean, to whom his last request was, that he would consult Quirkum, and see whether it would not be competent for him, Skimclean, to carry on the action against Moffat after his own decease. Shortly after making this request, the poor laird sank into a state of insensibility; and, just before he expired, having lain for some time previously without moving, scarcely breathing, he began muttering, evidently in delirium, something which the bystanders could not make out. Skimclean stooped down to catch the words. They were quivering on his lip, and proved to be, "Clo-clo-close the Record."
THE PROFESSOR'S TALES.
FAMILY INCIDENTS.
There is a beautiful glen in Dumfries-shire, which I would willingly point out to any as the very beau-ideal of all glens whatever. It is, in fact, entirely surrounded by high grounds, rising ultimately, towards the north in particular, into hills, or, more properly speaking, mountains, making part of the Queensberry range. In the centre of this glen, or vale, there is a round and conical green eminence, around which a small mountain-stream winds and wanders, as if unwilling to encounter the tossings and turmoil of the linn and precipitous course beneath. I could never behold, or even think, of this snug quietude in the bosom of unadulterated nature, without, at the same time, considering it as emblematic, in a striking degree, of man's experience in life. In infancy and youth all is snug, sunny, and peaceful as this little sheltered stream; but the linns and precipices of after-life assimilate but too closely to the foam, and tossing, and tumbling of the passage beneath. On the summit of that grassy mound, there once stood a thatched cottage, with which my story is connected.
It was evening, or rather twilight, or, as emphatically expressed in Scottish dialect, it was the "gloaming," when Janet Smith, a poor widow woman, sat in her own doorway—