ing was deposited. When Caleb saw the coast fairly clear, he took an invigorating pinch of snuff, to sharpen and confirm his resolution.
"Cauld be my cast," thought he, "if either Bide-the-bent or Girder taste that broche of wild-fowl this evening;" and then addressing the eldest turnspit, a boy of about eleven years old, and putting a penny into his hand, he said, "Here is twal pennies,[1] my man; carry that ower to Mrs Sma'trash, and bid her fill my mill wi' snishing, and I'll turn the broche for ye in the meantime—and she will gi'e ye a ginge-bread snap for your pains."
No sooner was the elder boy departed on this mission, than Caleb, looking the remaining turnspit gravely and steadily in the face, removed from the fire the spit bearing the wild-fowl of which he had undertaken the charge, clapped his hat on his
- ↑ Monetæ Scoticæ scilicet.
