“He has ower little o’ his ain; and siccan a name to keep up, it wad be a shame,” said Hobbie, “to burden him wi’ our distress.  And I’ll tell ye, grannie, it’s needless to sit rhyming ower the style of a’ your kith, kin, and allies, as if there was a charm in their braw names to do us good; the grandees hae forgotten us, and those of our ain degree hae just little eneugh to gang on wi’ themsells; ne’er a friend hae we that can, or will, help us to stock the farm again.”

“Then, Hobbie, me maun trust in Him that can raise up friends and fortune out o’ the bare moor, as they say.”

Hobbie sprung upon his feet.  “Ye are right, grannie!” he exclaimed; “ye are right.  I do ken a friend on the bare moor, that baith can and will help us—­The turns o’ this day hae dung my head clean hirdie-girdie.  I left as muckle gowd lying on Mucklestane-Moor this morning as would plenish the house and stock the Heugh-foot twice ower, and I am certain sure Elshie wadna grudge us the use of it.”

“Elshie!” said his grandmother in astonishment; “what Elshie do you mean?”

“What Elshie should I mean, but Canny Elshie, the Wight o’ Mucklestane,” replied Hobbie.

“God forfend, my bairn, you should gang to fetch water out o’ broken cisterns, or seek for relief frae them that deal wi’ the Evil One!  There was never luck in their gifts, nor grace in their paths.  And the haill country kens that body Elshie’s an unco man.  O, if there was the law, and the douce quiet administration of justice, that makes a kingdom flourish in righteousness, the like o’ them suldna be suffered to live!  The wizard and the witch are the abomination and the evil thing in the land.”

“Troth, mother,” answered Hobbie, “ye may say what ye like, but I am in the mind that witches and warlocks havena half the power they had lang syne; at least, sure am I, that ae ill-deviser, like auld Ellieslaw, or ae ill-doer, like that d—­d villain Westburnflat, is a greater plague and abomination in a country-side than a haill curnie o’ the warst witches that ever capered on a broomstick, or played cantrips on Fastern’s E’en.  It wad hae been lang or Elshie had burnt down my house and barns, and I am determined to try if he will do aught to build them up again.  He’s weel kend a skilfu’ man ower a’ the country, as far as Brough under Stanmore.”

“Bide a wee, my bairn; mind his benefits havena thriven wi’ a’body.  Jock Howden died o’ the very same disorder Elshie pretended to cure him of, about the fa’ o’ the leaf; and though he helped Lambside’s cow weel out o’ the moor-ill, yet the louping-ill’s been sairer amane; his sheep than ony season before.  And then I have heard he uses sic words abusing human nature, that’s like a fleeing in the face of Providence; and ye mind ye said yoursell, the first time ye ever saw him, that he was mair like a bogle than a living thing.”

“Hout, mother,” said Hobbie, “Elshie’s no that bad a chield; he’s a grewsome spectacle for a crooked disciple, to be sure, and a rough talker, but his bark is waur than his bite; sae, if I had anes something to eat, for I havena had a morsel ower my throat this day, I wad streek mysell down for twa or three hours aside the beast, and be on and awa’ to Mucklestane wi’ the first skreigh o’ morning.”