"
"I dinna ken muckle about the law," answered Mrs. Howden; "but I ken,
when we had a king, and a chancellor, and parliament men o' our ain, we
could aye peeble them wi' stanes when they werena gude bairns--But
naebody's nails can reach the length o' Lunnon."
"Weary on Lunnon, and a' that e'er came out o't!" said Miss Grizel
Damahoy, an ancient seamstress; "they hae taen away our parliament, and
they hae oppressed our trade. Our gentles will hardly allow that a Scots
needle can sew ruffles on a sark, or lace on an owerlay."
"Ye may say that--Miss Damahoy, and I ken o' them that hae gotten raisins
frae Lunnon by forpits at ance," responded Plumdamas; "and then sic an
host of idle English gaugers and excisemen as hae come down to vex and
torment us, that an honest man canna fetch sae muckle as a bit anker o'
brandy frae Leith to the Lawnmarket, but he's like to be rubbit o' the
very gudes he's bought and paid for.--Weel, I winna justify Andrew Wilson
for pitting hands on what wasna his; but if he took nae mair than his
ain, there's an awfu' difference between that and the fact this man
stands for."
"If ye speak about the law," said Mrs. Howden, "here comes Mr.
Saddletree, that can settle it as weel as ony on the bench."
The party she mentioned, a grave elderly person, with a superb periwig,
dressed in a decent suit of sad-coloured clothes, came up as she spoke,
and courteously gave his arm to Miss Grizel Damahoy.
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