man as ye could see; indeed I took him to be a particular serious and honest man.  So there was ae night that I was rather mair than ordinary hearty, and says he to me:  ‘Mr Stuart,’ says he, ’will you lend your name to a bit paper for me?’ ‘No, I thank ye, sir,’ says I; ‘I never wish to be caution for onybody.’  ‘It’s of no consequence,’ said he, and there was no more passed.  But as I was rising to gang hame, ‘Come, tak’ anither, Mr. Stuart,’ said he; ‘I’m next the wa’ wi’ ye—­I’ll stand treat.’  Wi’ sair pressing I was prevailed upon to sit doun again, and we had anither and anither, till I was perfectly insensible.  What took place, or how I got hame, I couldna tell, and the only thing I remember was a head fit to split the next day, and Jeannie very ill pleased and powty-ways.  However, I thought nae mair about it, and I was extremely glad I had refused to be bond for the person who asked me; for within three months I learned that he had broken and absconded wi’ a vast o’ siller.  It was just a day or twa after I had heard the intelligence, I was telling Jeannie and her mother o’ the circumstance, and what an escape I had had, when the servant lassie showed a bank clerk into the room.  ‘Tak’ a seat, sir,’ said I, for I had dealings wi’ the bank.  ‘This is a bad business, Mr. Stuart,’ said he.  ‘What business?’ said I, quite astonished.  ’Your being security for Mr. So-and-so,’ said he.  ‘Me!’ cried I, starting up in the middle o’ the floor—­’Me!—­the scoundrel—­I denied him point blank!’ ’There is your own signature for a thousand pounds,’ said the clerk.  ’A thousand furies!’ exclaimed I, stamping my foot; ’it’s a forgery—­an infernal forgery!’ ‘Mr. Such-a-one is witness to your handwriting,’ said the clerk.  I was petrified; I could hae drawn down the roof o’ the house upon my head to bury me!  In a moment a confused recollection o’ the proceedings at Luckie Macnaughton’s flashed across my memory, like a flame from the bottomless pit!  There was a look o’ witherin’ reproach in my mother-in-law’s een, and I heard her mutterin’ between her teeth, ’I aye said what his three tumblers wad come to.’  But my dear Jeannie bore it like a Christian, as she is.  She cam forward to me, an’, poor thing, she kissed my cheek, and says she, ‘Dinna distress yoursel’, David, dear—­it cannot be helped now—­let us pray that this may be a lesson for the future.’  I flung my arm round her neck—­I couldna speak; but at last I said, ’Oh Jeannie, it will be a lesson, and your affection will be a lesson!’ Some o’ your book-learned folk wad ca’ this conduct philosophy in Jeannie; but I, wha kenned every thought in her heart, was aware that it proceeded from her resignation as a true Christian, and her affection as a dutiful wife.  Weel, the upshot was, I had robbed mysel’ out o’ a thousand pounds as simply as ye wad snuff out a candle.  You have heard the saying, that sorrow ne’er comes singly; and I am sure, in a’ my experience, I have found its truth.  At that period I had two thousand pounds, bearing