bad, I'll deny it point blank.'

"'Ye mayna think it bad,' says she again, 'but I fear ye like a _dram_,
and my bairn's happiness demands that I should speak o' it.'

"'A dram!' says I; 'preserve us! is there ony ill in a _dram?_--that's
the last thing that I wad hae thought about.'

"'Ask the broken-hearted wife,' says she, 'if there be ony ill in a
dram--ask the starving family--ask the jailer and the gravedigger--ask
the doctor and the minister o' religion--ask where ye see roups o'
furniture at the cross, or the auctioneer's flag wavin' frae the
window--ask a deathbed--ask eternity, David Stuart, and they will tell
ye if there be ony ill in a dram.'

"'I hope, ma'am,' says I,--and I was a guid deal nettled,--'I hope,
ma'am, ye dinna tak' me to be a drunkard. I can declare freely, that
unless maybe at a time by chance (and the best o' us will mak' a slip
now and then), I never tak' aboon twa or three glasses at a time.
Indeed, three's just my set. I aye say to my cronies, there is nae luck
till the second tumbler, and nae peace after the fourth. So ye perceive,
there's not the smallest danger o' me.'

"'Ah, but, David,' replied she, 'there _is_ danger. Habits grow
stronger, nature weaker, and resolution offers less and less resistance;
and ye may come to make four, five, or six glasses your set; and frae
that to a bottle--your grave--and my bairn a broken-hearted widow.'

"'Really, ma'am,' says I, ye talked very sensibly before, but ye are awa
wi' the harrows now--quite unreasonable a'thegither. However, to satisfy