glers, and blackguards of different descriptions, some carrying lighted torches, others bearing packages and barrels down the lane to the boat that was lying at the quay, to which two or three other fisher-boats were now brought round. They were loading each of these in their turn, and one or two had already put off to seaward. "This speaks for itself," said Bertram; "but I fear something worse has happened. Do you feel a strong smell of smoke, or is it my fancy?"
"Fancy?" answered Dinmont, "there's a reek like a killogie. Odd, if they burn the Custom-House, it will catch here, and we'll lunt like a tar-barrel a' thegither.—Eh! it wad be fearsome to be burnt alive for naething, like as if ane had been a warlock! Mac-Guffog, hear ye!"—roaring at the top of his voice, "an ye wad ever hae a haill bane in your skin, let's out, man! let's out!"
The fire began now to rise high, and thick clouds of smoke rolled past the window, at which Bertram and Dinmont were
