"But, just to give ye a few instances o' my simplicity:—I was walking, on a summer evening, as my custom was, about a mile out o' the town, when I overtook a Mr Swanston, a very respectable sort o' man, a neighbour, and an auld acquaintance, who appeared to be in very great tribulation. I think, indeed, that I never saw a fellow-creature in such visible distress. His countenance was perfectly wofu', and he was wringing his hands like a body dementit.
"'Preserve us, Mr Swanston!' says I, 'what's the matter wi' ye?—has onything happened?'
"'Oh! happened!' said he; 'I'm a ruined man!—I wish that I had never been born!—that I had never drawn breath in this world o' villany! I believe I'll do some ill to mysel'.'
"'Dear me, Mr Swanston!' quoth I, 'I'm sorry to hear ye talk so. It is very unchristian-like to hear a body talking o' doing harm to theirsels. There is a poet, (Dr Young, if I mistake not,) that says—
'Self-murder! name it not, our island's shame!'
Now, I dinna like to hear ye talking in such a way; and though I have no wish to be inquisitive, I would just beg to ask what it is upon your mind that is making ye unhappy?'
"'Oh, Mr Middlemiss,' said he, 'it is o' no use telling ye o't, for I believe that sympathy has left this world, as weel as honesty.'
"'Ye're no very sure o' that, neighbour,' says I; 'and I dinna think that ye do mysel' and other people justice.'
"'Maybe not, sir,' said he; 'but is it not a hard case, that, after I have carried on business for more than twenty years, honestly and in credit wi' all the world, that I should have to stop my business to-morrow, for the want o' three hundred pounds?'
"'It certainly is,' said I, 'a very hard case; but, dear me, Mr Swanston, I always thought that ye would be worth twenty shillings in the pound.'