On my return in the evening to Glasgow, I went straight to the house of Mr. Possy, to announce my final determination that we should stop payment. It might perhaps have been in some respects more prudent, had I postponed the execution of this resolution till the morning, but there was always so much of incalculable weakness disclosed by him when suddenly thrown into perplexity, that I considered it as well to have this trial over.

On reaching the door, I felt myself considerably disturbed; I was the bearer of evil tidings, and I had an unpleasant impression from the appearance of the house, that I was to be witness to some scene of extravagant distress. Unusual lights seemed to shine from the windows, and the curtains being down, they had each, as I thought at the moment, a cast of something that reminded me of a sick chamber. But I rallied my fortitude, and the door was immediately opened by one of the maids, a simple country girl, who, when she saw who was there, raised her hand in a tragedy attitude, and shaking it, said,

“Wheest, wheest! speak laigh.”

I stepped, in consequence of this mysterious admonition, softly forward, and paused as she gently closed the door: when she turned round she was in tears.

“What has happened?” said I; “who is ill? Has Mr. Possy, or your mistress, or any of the children met with an accident?”

“Oh, oh, hoch hone!” was all the answer she could make, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron.