Mr. Bell had not left me many minutes, when the puff of passion to which he had put the spunk was out, and I began to repent of my rudeness—for rude I had been, and more so than the provocation warranted; at least it seemed so, when I came to reflect on whose service he was in, and the livery by which he was protected.

While I was in this vexed and contrite mood, meditating on the course I should take to procure a reconciliation, who should come into the store to console me but Bailie Waft, from Babelmandel. I had not seen him for some time, and although I might, probably, on proposition, have eschewed a meeting, I was yet glad at his now coming, as he did unawares upon me; for it is an infirmity of my nature to take an attachment to every thing I happen to grow familiar with, and I really liked the bodie almost for the tribulations he had inflicted.

“How do you do, Mr. Todd?” said he, looking behind cautiously, as if he was followed, or was likely to have been overheard. “What can have come o’er the minister? I met him, stalking, as it were, with seven-league boots; his eyes looking up through the hair of his bushy eyebrows, his lips drawn back, and his teeth grinning like an atomy’s, while his hands and arms were going like a drummer's with the firebeat.— Gude guide us, Mr. Todd!—surely yon man's delirious!”

As the conduct of the bailie, subsequent to the first day, had been in every way praiseworthy towards Mr. Bell, I was desirous to drop the curtain on the scene of our altercation, and to avoid saying any thing that might tend to diminish the respect with which the unfortunate man had re-inspired him. Accordingly, I merely remarked, in an off-hand manner, that he and I had a few words of argument about the church, which, in consequence of the rent the Methodists had offered, the Presbyterians were cut off from the chance of obtaining.