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The consternation of the body-lifters may be imagined. The one who was wheeling the barrow suddenly let his hold, by which means it upset, and both taking to their heels, they ran as it the evil on himself had been in chase of them. By the upsetting of the barrow, Tam Merrilees was rolled upon the ground: however, having managed to get entirely free from the sack; and regain his legs, he found himself at the end of the Cross causeway, near St. Leonard's. He scratched his head, and taking a snuff, began to consider how he was to dispose of the barrow. "It is no sic a bad wheelbarrow," said he; “I'll just tak it hame wi' me," so throwing into it the sack, he made the best of his way home, feeling a good deal soberer for his adventure. On his arrival at home he deposited the barrow in a small yard at the back of the house; and without facing his expectant spouse, he proceeded straightway to the dwelling of Maister Peter Mitchell, an old acquaintance, and moreover an elder of the kirk. On his road thither he indulged in no very gentle denunciations against the sexton. “A fine fellow to trust folks' bodies wi'! I'se warrant all the corpses that's been buried thonder for the last twalvemonth hae gaen the same gate as that yin wad if I had na' prevented it. It's an awfu' thing that folk canna get leave to rest in their graves
