Chapter 35 - Page 2

speak a few words of admonition respecting this
wicked ordinary--"

"Reserve the lesson, most honourable Richie," said Lowestoffe, "until
I have lost all my money," showing, at the same time, a purse
indifferently well provided, "and then the lecture is likely to have
some weight."

"And keep my share of it, Richie," said the other Templar, showing an
almost empty purse, in his turn, "till this be full again, and then I
will promise to hear you with some patience."

"Ay, ay, gallants," said Richie, "the full and the empty gang a' ae
gate, and that is a grey one--but the time will come."

"Nay, it is come already," said Lowestoffe; "they have set out the
hazard table. Since you will peremptorily not go with us, why,
farewell, Richie."

"And farewell, gentlemen," said Richie, and left the house, into which
they had returned.

Moniplies was not many steps from the door, when a person, whom, lost
in his reflections on gaming, ordinaries, and the manners of the age,
he had not observed, and who had been as negligent on his part, ran
full against him; and, when Richie desired to know whether he meant
"ony incivility," replied by a curse on Scotland, and all that
belonged to it. A less round reflection on his country would, at any
time, have provoked Richie, but more especially when he had a double
quart of Canary and better in his pate. He was about to give a very
rough answer, and to second his word by action, when a closer view of
his antagonist changed his purpose.

"You are the vera lad in the warld," said Richie, "whom I most wished
to meet."

"And you," answered the stranger, "or any of your beggarly countrymen,
are the last sight I should ever wish to see. You Scots are ever fair
and false, and an honest man cannot thrive within eyeshot of you."

"As to our poverty, friend," replied Richie, "that is as Heaven
pleases; but touching our falset, I'll prove to you that a Scotsman
bears as leal and true a heart to his friend as ever beat in English
doublet."

"I care not whether he does or not," said the gallant. "Let me go--why
keep you hold of my cloak? Let me go, or I will thrust you into the
kennel."

"I believe I could forgie ye, for you did me a good turn once, in
plucking me out of it," said the Scot.

"Beshrew my fingers, then, if they did so," replied the stranger. "I
would your whole country lay there, along with you; and Heaven's curse
blight the hand that helped to raise them!--Why do you stop my way?"
he added,