respect due from one mortal to another, Sandy Elshender. Double
Sandy was a soutar, or shoemaker, remarkable for his love of sweet
sounds and whisky. He was, besides, the town-crier, who went about
with a drum at certain hours of the morning and evening, like a
perambulating clock, and also made public announcements of sales,
losses, &c.; for the rest--a fierce, fighting fellow when in anger
or in drink, which latter included the former.

'What's the sicht, Sandy?' asked Robert, coming up with his hands in
the pockets of his trowsers.

'Sic a sicht as ye never saw, man,' returned Sandy; 'the bonniest
leddy ever man set his ee upo'. I culd na hae thocht there had been
sic a woman i' this warl'.'

'Hoot, Sandy!' said Robert, 'a body wad think she was tint (lost)
and ye had the cryin' o' her. Speyk laicher, man; she'll maybe hear
ye. Is she i' the inn there?'

'Ay is she,' answered Sandy. 'See sic a warl' o' kists as she's
brocht wi' her,' he continued, pointing towards the pile of luggage.
'Saw ye ever sic a bourach (heap)? It jist blecks (beats) me to
think what ae body can du wi' sae mony kists. For I mayna doobt but
there's something or ither in ilka ane o' them. Naebody wad carry
aboot toom (empty) kists wi' them. I cannot mak' it oot.'

The boxes might well surprise Sandy, if we may draw any conclusions
from the fact that the sole implement of personal adornment which he
possessed was two inches of a broken comb, for which he had to
search when he happened to want it, in the drawer of his stool,