the houses on the north side of the Grassmarket. The boys took a
barrel to the Castlehill, filled it with small stones, and then shot it
down towards the roofs of the houses in the Grassmarket. The barrel
leapt from rock to rock, burst, and scattered a shower of stones far
and wide. The fun was to see the "boddies" look out of their garret
windows with their lighted lamps or candles, peer into the dark,
and try to see what was the cause of the mischief.

Sir David Baird, the hero of Seringapatam, played a trick of the same
kind before he went to India.

Among my father's favourite companions were the two sons of Dr. John
Erskine, minister of Old Greyfriars, in conjunction with the equally
celebrated Dr. Robertson. Dr. Erskine*
[footnote...
Dr. Erskine is well described by Scott in Guy Mannering, on the
occasion when Pleydell and Mannering went to hear him preach a famous
sermon.
...]
was a man of great influence in his day, well known for his literary
and theological works, as well as for his piety and practical
benevolence. On one occasion, when my father was at play with his
sons, one of them threw a stone, which smashed a neighbour's window.
A servant of the house ran out, and seeing the culprit, called out,
"Very wee!, Maister Erskine, I'll tell yeer faither wha broke the
windae!" On which the boy, to throw her off the scent, said to his
brother loudly, "Eh, keist! she thinks we're the boddy Erskine's sons."

The boddy Erskine! Who ever heard of such an irreverent nickname
applied to that good and great man? "The laddies couldna be his sons,"