''
``I wish I could think sae, sir, for his mother's
sake; but Mr Treddles was in trade, and though
be had no preceese right to do so, yet there was
some warrant for a man being expensive that imagined
be was making a mint of money. But this
unhappy lad devoured his patrimony, when he
kenned that he was living like a ratten in a Dunlap
cheese, and diminishing his means at a' hands
---I canna bide to think on't.'' With this she
broke out into a snatch of a ballad; but little of
mirth was there either in the tone or the expression:---
``For he did spend, and make an end
Of gear that his forefathers wan;
Of land and ware he made him bare,
So speak nae mair of the auld gudeman.''
``Come, dame,'' said I, ``it is a long lane that
has no turning. I will not keep from you that I
have heard something of this poor fellow, Chrystal
Croftangry. He has sown his wild oats, as
they say, and has settled into a steady respectable
man.''
``And wha tell'd ye that tidings?'' said she,
looking sharply at me.
``Not perhaps the best judge in the world of his
character, for it was himself, dame.''
``And if he tell'd you truth, it was a virtue he
did not aye use to practise,'' said Christie.
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