"Ah! doctor, you little know the love these good young gentlemen bear for
you," replied the landlord. "Your absence, your long absence, had alarmed
them; and they rushed forth through the rain and darkness to seek you."

"And was this indeed so?" asked the doctor, in a softened tone, and
casting a tender and grateful look upon the three students. They, it is
but justice to mention, had simultaneously made a step forward in order to
contradict the egregious falsehoods of which Hugh's fancy was so fertile;
but he assumed an expression of such ludicrous entreaty, that it was
irresistible.

"But methinks their anxiety was not of long continuance," observed Dr.
Melmoth, looking at the wine, and remembering the song that his entrance
had interrupted.

"Ah! your reverence disapproves of the wine, I see," answered Hugh
Crombie. "I did but offer them a drop to keep the life in their poor young
hearts. My dame advised strong waters; 'But, Dame Crombie,' says I, 'would
ye corrupt their youth?' And in my zeal for their good, doctor, I was
delighting them, just at your entrance, with a pious little melody of my
own against the sin of drunkenness."

"Truly, I remember something of the kind," observed Dr. Melmoth. "And, as
I think, it seemed to meet with good acceptance."

"Ay, that it did!" said the landlord. "Will it please your reverence to
hear it?--

King Solomon of old, boys (a wise man I'm thinking),