the labours of the poor during the late hard season, and one of which
bears the name of Pattison's path, while the other had been kindly
consecrated to my own memory, by the title of the Dominie's Daidling-
bit. Here I made certain to meet my associate, Paul Pattison, for by
one or other of these roads he was wont to return to my house of an
evening, after his lengthened rambles.

Nor was it long before I espied him descending the Gusedub by that
tortuous path, marking so strongly the character of a Scottish glen. He
was easily distinguished, indeed, at some distance, by his jaunty
swagger, in which he presented to you the flat of his leg, like the
manly knave of clubs, apparently with the most perfect contentment, not
only with his leg and boot, but with every part of his outward man, and
the whole fashion of his garments, and, one would almost have thought,
the contents of his pockets.

In this, his wonted guise, he approached me, where I was seated near
the meeting of the waters, and I could not but discern, that his first
impulse was to pass me without any prolonged or formal greeting. But as
that would not have been decent, considering the terms on which we
stood, he seemed to adopt, on reflection, a course directly opposite;
bustled up to me with an air of alacrity, and, I may add, impudence;
and hastened at once into the middle of the important affairs which it
had been my purpose to bring under discussion in a manner more becoming
their gravity. "I am glad to see you, Mr. Cleishbotham," said he, with
an inimitable mixture of confusion and effrontery; "the most wonderful
news which has been heard in the literary world in my time--all
Gandercleuch rings with it--they positively speak of nothing else, from
Miss Buskbody's youngest apprentice to the minister himself, and ask
each other in amazement, whether the tidings are true or false--to be