"And whare is your honours gaun the day," said the mendicant, "wi' a'
your picks and shules?--Od, this will be some o' your tricks, Monkbarns:
ye'll be for whirling some o' the auld monks down by yonder out o' their
graves afore they hear the last call--but, wi' your leave, I'se follow ye
at ony rate, and see what ye mak o't."

The party soon arrived at the ruins of the priory, and, having gained the
chancel, stood still to consider what course they were to pursue next.
The Antiquary, meantime, addressed the adept.

"Pray, Mr. Dousterswivel, what is your advice in this matter? Shall we
have most likelihood of success if we dig from east to west, or from west
to east?--or will you assist us with your triangular vial of May-dew, or
with your divining-rod of witches-hazel?--or will you have the goodness
to supply us with a few thumping blustering terms of art, which, if they
fail in our present service, may at least be useful to those who have not
the happiness to be bachelors, to still their brawling children withal?"

"Mr. Oldenbuck," said Dousterswivel, doggedly, "I have told you already
that you will make no good work at all, and I will find some way of mine
own to thank you for your civilities to me--yes, indeed."

"If your honours are thinking of tirling the floor," said old Edie, "and
wad but take a puir body's advice, I would begin below that muckle stane
that has the man there streekit out upon his back in the midst o't."

"I have some reason for thinking favourably of that plan myself," said
the Baronet.