<r'
'Z&
SO
"%J3AINIH¥^
so
AOKAUFORfc
^Aavaaitt^ ^AwaaiH^
r 2 —
^WHNIW/a ^
^GlJDNYSOV^ ^
^UlBRARYQc
D %
^AHvaaiH^
<<Jt\EUN!VER%.
3s>
^EUNIVERJ^
^lOSANCfl^
V 'I
^lOSANCfl^.
^/saaAiNiwv^
^tUBRARYQ^ <^
^fOJITY3JO^ ^S
^10SANGFI% ^UIBRARYQ^ ^UBRARY^
"SSBBAIWHI^
^•UBRARY^
'fownjn\n.ji\^ r
^tawiWHtf^ ^»0JllY3iO^ ^judnvsov^
^lOSANCEl^ ^OFCAUFOB^ ^OFCAUFO^
<\V\E«NIVER% ^
"%mim4V^ ^atoih^ ^Aavnan-a^ <tti»sov^ ^
,\\mivers/a ^ios«i&>
^•UBRARYQ^ ^
^linww.cm^ -^/oiaAiMnitf^ %!/n-inV3JO^
^UIBRARY^.
^l-UBRARYQc
^ttOJIIVDJO^
^frUNIVERSJfc.
^lOSANCO^
^QFCALIF(%
^Aavaain^
^0FCAIIF(%
y 0Anvaan-#
^EUNIVHM^
^clOSANCflG^
%TOS0V^
^\KUNIVER%
^DNVSQV^
^clOSANCtl%
<AtUBRARY<fc. <#UBRARY0/,
lurri %\\cA
%ojnvD^ %oi\m^
<TiU0NVSOl^
^tOSANGFlfj^. <JjOFCA
CAUFOJb*.
%HAIM4l\^
^AWHerr#' ^Aavaan-^
^lUBRARYO?
^OFCAUFOfyfr
<#UBRARY<K
^OFCAUFOJ!^
^Auvaan^ ^Aavaan-#
^«!VER%
^dOSMFlft
^JMVSOV^
^
3 V
^IDSANCEUr^
mavvv*
^•«NIVFJ% ^lOSANCH^
%v„
mtu pm
W? "Y/h\\%i • ittn iitV'V
4$HIBRARYg^ jfflM
mn irv
^ %
'limmn.itvtJ
Scotch Readings.
Scotch Readings
Humorous and Amusin
or
Er
lex and Eft G. Murdoch
Author of "Recent and Living Scottish Potts."
tc
A hearty laugh is the sauce of life."
FOURTH EDITION
GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON.
LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO.
1889,
I , t a > ■
> * * *
I
1 *
ft I
en
?A/
6i ye
1889
Preface.
Of late years a somewhat new sort of literature has sprung
up in our midst, which has taken considerable hold upon
the estimation of the masses. The compositions here
referred to may not, in the opinion of cultured litterateurs,
be regarded as of a high order of merit, nor, indeed, of
any great degree of interest. Nevertheless, there cannot
be a doubt as to the feeling which is evinced by the
people at large relative to the matter.
To define exactly this new species of book-writing
would not be easy ; but the term by which it may be
most familiarly recognised is Readings. The meaning of
J5 the term must be pretty generally understood, — by all,
t? we should imagine, but the very learned. That this
Q new departure is a good one and increasing in popularity
is everywhere evident. All that gives really innocent
amusement, and brings man into contact with those
kindly influences which broaden his sympathy with his
fellows, is surely to be commended. It is freely admitted
that Readings, to an eminent degree, occupy such a
sphere of usefulness.
:: 41 6777
I) V E EFAC E.
Compositions of the kind, in order to fulfil the ends
that are really desired, whether they be for the platform,
or intended for the more humble gathering at the social
fireside, must necessarily abound in humour and character,
otherwise they fail of their purpose.
The author of the present work has already issued
several small contributions in this department of literature
The kind appreciation with which these have been received
by his fellow-countrymen, has encouraged him to issue a
new series, and on a somewhat larger scale.
As will be manifest to the reader, the author has
confined himself to depicting character and incident as
found among his countrymen, than which, as he believes,
no richer or more entertaining subject can be found.
Some of the life-scenes and phases of character portrayed
in these pages, may not be quite such as many readers
have been accustomed to come in contact with. Notwith-
standing this, they are all in accordance with actual Scotch
life among the working classes, as taking place in the
occurrences of every day.
CONTENTS OF EIUST SERIES.
-♦-♦-
PAGH
MRS. M'FARLAN'S RABBIT-DINNER, . . . - 9
THE WASHIN -HOUSE KEY, U
THE WOOIN' 0' KATE DALRYMPLE, 28
A POET'S BID FOR FAME, .......&?
JOCK BROON'S PATENT UMBRELLA, .. - - . 49
COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS, 52
WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY, . - 60
THE STAIRHEID MAN A WDGE, 63
WEE BOBBIE BAREFEET, 7?
LAMPLICHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR, SB
TAMMAS THORL'S FOTTYGRAPHIC EXPERIENCES, - S?
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD, 96
RAISIN' HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW, 107
WHA RULES THE HOOSE? lit
SANDY M' 'TARTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS, - - - 1H
Scotch Eeadings.
FIRST SERIES.
MRS. MACFARLAX'S RABBIT-DINNER.
Johnny Macfarian was a shaemaker's mechanic. He
ea'd in the tackets in the heels of the buits and
shune, and was considered a crack hand at the job. Plenty
of ordinary workmen might be able to do the plain work
— that is, ca'in' the tackets in the soles — but Johnny had
a geometrical genius for curves, and, with his "specks" on,
could walk roun' the edges o' the heels like an experienced
Corporation scavenger sweepin' the circle o' a lamp-post.
Personally, Johnny was a wee man, but possessed — by
way of effective contrast — a big wife, and an extra big sma'
family. Johnny's weight corresponded with his size; he
weighed seven stane in his stockin's — before breakfast.
What additional weight he might have " scaled " after
breakfast, consequent on the absorption o' a basin o' weel-
biled parritch, an' a big floury baker's scone, wash't
doon wi' a chappin o' sour milk, is a question touching
atmospheric displacement in the stomach, which it would
be kittle to guess at.
Regarding Mrs. Macfarlan, or Betty, as Johnny com-
monly styled her, she was the physical opposite of her
" man " Johnny, and in point of bodily weight, was a per-
fect whistler.
2
10 MRS. MACFARLAN'S RABBIT-DINNER.
Betty, in view of her size, ruled the domestic roast, of
course ; but Johnny seldom fell into her angry hands — he
was sae plaguey wee and ill to catch. Even at the worst,
their domestic rows were never very serious, and ended
generally by Johnny sensibly capitulating to his angry
spouse, and then gallantly sclimbin' up on a chair to tak' her
twa rosy cheeks atween his hands and fondly kiss her.
Now, Johnny Macfarlan, although a good man in many
ways, was, I fear, not a particularly religious man. Some
said Johnny was at heart a Socialist, and believed very
much in the good time coming, when nations all over the
earth would fraternise and live at peace — when happy
working men would put five-pound notes between their
breakfast rolls instead of corn'd meat — when colliers would
be let down pit-shafts by silver ropes, and so forth.
Anyhow, Johnny was the reverse of orthodox in his
" views," and delighted in joking about Christianity and its
exported adjuncts — hot rum and cold missionar}'. Johnny,
it is true, had a " sate in the kirk," but the said " sate " was
too often conspicuous by the owner's absence. His wife,
Betty, however, was there every Sunday afternoon, and as
she had a keen memory for passages in the, sermon appli-
cable to Johnny's " lost state," she made up for her hus-
band's absence frae the kirk by flingin' lumps o' the sermon
at his heid at the Sunday dinner-table, which annoying
artillery practice Johnny humorously checkmated by shov-
ing into her plate the toughest bits o' girsle he could
pick oot o' the dinner stew, so as to effectively "jab up"
her clackin' tongue.
But Johnny, altho' no a kirk-gaun man, was a capital
hand at cooking a guid Sunday dinner. Pie could toast
the breid to a fair hair, cut the ingans, minsh the " shooet "
(suet), and saut and pepper the " stew " to perfection. Then,
as for " maskin' the tea," there wasna a man nor an auld
wife in Gleska could bate Johnny Macfarlan at that.
MRS. MACFARLANS RABBIT - DINNER. 11
Weel, to come to the story of the grand rabbit- dinner ?
Maggie, their auldest bit lassie, had been " oot at service "
for some short time, and having got her first three months'
wages, was at hame frae Saturday nicht to Monday morn-
ing; and as the bit lassie had brocht hame some bawbees
wi' her, the fond parents resolved on having a grand rabbit-
dinner on Sunday. The proposition, which was made by
Betty, was all the more readily assented to on account of
Wee Mosey, their fifth auldest laddie, having had for
some time a young rabbit in the cellar, and which had be-
come awkwardly " in the road " on account of its removal
to the house, consequent on a cairt o' coals having been put
into the said cellar. The rabbit was therefore doomed, and
its martyrdom was readily agreed to by all except Wee
Mosey, who, unfortunately for the tragic sequel, had no
voice — other than an appropriately small voice — in the
matter.
" An' hoo will ye manage to cook it, Johnny ?" inquired
Mrs. Macfarlan, on the preceding Saturday nicht. "Ye
ken it's an extra dish, an' ye hav'na had muckle experience
that way, I'm certain."
" Never ye mind hoo I'll cook it,' promptly replied Johnny,
"I'll cook it, Betty, an' that's enough."
" But, Johnny "
" No a word, Betty, if you please — no a single word. I'll
cook the precious thing, dinna ye doot. Jist ye leave oot
an ingan, a spunef u' o' floor, an' a pair o shears. As for the
rabbit, I ken whaur to get her," and Johnny yerked his
head in the direction of the bed-pawn, signifying that the
innocent subject of the sacrificial dinner was probably at
that very moment sleeping under the kitchen bed, bliss-
fully unconscious of the culinary fate awaiting it on the
morrow.
And now let us conceive Sunday morning as having ar-
rived. Butty has gotten herself, and some six or eight o£
12 MRS. macfarlan's rabbit-dinner.
the auldest of the bairns ready for the kirk, and is now tor-
menting Johnny with her final instructions — the proper dis-
posal of the rabbit,as was natural, coming largely to the front.
" Noo, Johnny dear," she said, " I've tell'd ye a' that's
necessary for the richt bilin' o' the rabbit "
"An' a great deal raair," interrupted Johnny, with a touch
of sarcasm in his voice. " Pey ye attention to auld Mr.
Orthodoxy's sermon, Betty ; an' I'll pey attention to the
richt bilin' o' the rabbit."
An' now that Betty was gone, it was the dinner Johnny
had to do with ; but the first principle of it — the rabbit —
was curiously amissing. Everything, in fact, was waiting
on the rabbit. There was the spunefu' o' floor, the ingan, the
pepper and saut, alang wi' the knife an' the shears for the
skinnin' o't. Besides all that, there was a glorious fire
burning — in fact, a rale special fire, which visibly endangered
the safety o' the " lum ; " the pat was also sittin' ready, an'
so also was the tureen to " dish't " in. But the Hamlet of
the play, the rabbit, was conspicuously amissing !
Ay, where was that blessed rabbit hiding itself ? Appa-
rently scenting murder in the air, it had for the last two
hours been strangely absent from even accidental sight.
"Clearly," thought Johnny, "it's time I was setting to
work. The kirk's barely in twa hours a'thegither, an' the
pat needs an' hour-an'-a-half's guid bilin' ! I maun buckle
up my sleeves, an' fa' to in richt earnest !''
This said, Johnny got on his " specks," as his sicht was a
trifle fail't, and began rum magi n' aboot the odd corners o'
the hoose in search o' the missing rabbit. If it had only
been the cat he wanted, he could have begun skinnin'
operations at once, as he was i'a'in' owre't every ither
minute in his search for the missing rabbit. In fact so often
did the poor cat come in his way that Johnny iinally dealt
it a smart kick, which sent it flying below the kitchen-bed
like a streak of greased lightning.
MRS. MACFARLANS RABBIT - DINNER. 13
No ; that rabbit couldn't be got — it was simply nowhere !
He looked here, he looked there ; he looked high, he looked
low; he looked over the bed, and he looked under it; he
looked within presses, and on shelves ; in drawers, under
chairs, and, as a final climax, in the wean's cradle ! But
no ; there was no trace of the missing rabbit to be found
anywhere.
At his wit's end, Johnny, as a last shift, set the hale o'
the remaining weans who had not been taken to the kirk by
their mither to help him in the search. Their united
efforts, however, completely failed to discover the missing
rabbit's place of hide.
The search being thus at all points a failure, Johnny, be-
thinking himself for a moment, suddenly remembered that
he had looked both in and under every place — except
under the cradle.
The cradle was sitting before the tire ; he shifted its posi-
tion, and out leapt the missing rabbit, and with a nervous
jump-jump-jump, was in at the back of a big kist in a
second, pursued by Johnny and the hale jing-bang o' the
shouting weans ! Reaching doon his hand at the back o'
the kist, Johnny picked up the trembling victim, and
ca.ri>d it into the scullery for instant "despatch," with-
out, I fear, the least Christian, or even Socialistic compunc-
tion.
Pausing for a moment to consider what way, and at what
part he would begin the work of death, the rabbit, appre-
hensive of danger apparently, gave a sudden wriggle, and
getting freed from Johnny's grip, it scurried across the
floor, and was presently hid from sight below the kitchen-
bed.
Uttering an angry expletive, Johnny dashed after it, and
in less than no time brought it out of quarters, and hurriedly
despatched it. The rabbit fought toughly fur its little life,
and proved a " fell thief " to master, as Johnny afterwards
14 ilRS. macfarlan's rabbit-dinner.
admitted. But he managed it at last, and, in the inside o'
five minutes, had it skinned and thrust holus-bolus into the
dinner-pot.
The fire did the rest, and it did its work well. In twenty
minutes the pot was " bilin' like onything," and Johnn}-
hoped to save his reputation as a grand Sunday cook, by
having the dinner " dish't " in proper time for Betty's return
f rae kirk. In fact, he hoped for even more than that. His
reputation would not only be sustained by the " dish " which
he was now preparing, but would be very much enhanced
thereby, he fondly hoped. If the cooking of the rabbit-
dinner proved a success, he would, in common justice, be
entitled to some extra credit. There were many, no doubt,
who could cook professional rabbit-dinners, but whaur was
the man (Johnny asked himself) wha could mind five or
six steerin' weans, nurse a "screamer" in the cradle, and
cook at the same time a rabbit-dinner, including the killin'
an' the skinnin' o't ? Yes, John Alacfarlan proudly looked
round the kitchen, and boldly asked the walls — " Where
was that gifted man ? ; ' and defeated Echo promptly an-
swered — " Nowhere ! "
''It's just delicious," soliloquised Johnny, as he tasted the
savoury " brae " with an unctuous smack of the lips ; " in
fact, it's mair than merely delicious, it's jist perfectly ex-
quishous! Saut an' pepper to taste pits the capstane on
guid cooker}'," added Johnny, as he withdrew the tasting
spoon from his lips, and prepared to dust a fresh sprink-
ling of pepper atop of the savoury soup.
Five minutes more passed, and — " I'll now venture to lift
it," quoth Johnn}', and forthwith he whipped the pot from
off the fire, and presently " dish't " the rich morsel in full
view of the admiring children.
" There ! an' if Betty's no pleased wi that dish I'll eat
my auld bauchels. It's weel cooked, carefully sautet an'
peppcr'd, an' bonnily ' dish't,' an' onything mair or better
MRS. MACFARLANS RABBIT - DINNER. 15
than that it couldna weel be. But, guidsake, there's Betty
at the door ! "
And in two seconds thereafter, the veritable Betty, with
her numerous family brood around her, stood on the centre
of the kitchen-floor, admiring the " dish't " rabbit, and de-
lightfully snuffing the savoury atmosphere which every-
where filled the homely apartment.
" Weel, Johnny dear, ye've managed to cook the rabbit I
see, as ye said ye wad," was Mrs. Macfarlan's first salutation :
" weel dune for you, Johnny ! "
" Oo, ay, lass, I've cook't its goose nicely, an' I'm hopin'
it'll prove a toothsome dish for us a'."
" Weel, Johnny, if it tastes hauf as weel as it smells, the
pirnickiest mooth '11 ha'e naething to fin' faut wi\"
" I'll tak' my affy-davy on the taste o't, Betty ; the taste
o't '11 be, if onything, upsides wi' the smell o't, for it's cook't
according to Cocker, ye may depend ; — a spunefu' o' floor, a
moderate-sized ingan, twa pints o' water to bile't in, an'
finely sautet an' pepper't to taste."
" Weel, we'll jist sit doon an' taste it, Johnny, dear," said
Betty. And having now denuded herself of her Sunday
"braws" she got on a working wrapper, and sat herself
down to " carve " the rabbit forthwith.
" Eh, Johnny, dear, d'ye ken, that rabbit brae's jist grand,"
remarked Mrs. Macfarlan, as she helped herself to a spoonful
of the rich gravy.
Johnny said nothing, but only sat and complacently
smiled, his twa thumbs stuck in the armpits of his waist-
coat, and his hands spread out delightedly, like a man neck-
deep in the warmest of domestic clover.
" An' the rabbit itsel's jist quite perfeckshous, Johnny —
as tender's a bit o' chicken ! Oh, Johnny, ye're jist a fair
love o' a man — a perf eck auld sweetie — a rale wee dear ! "
Johnny ventured nothing in reply ; his soul was too full
to speak ; he could only alternately snuff up the rich flavour
16 MRS. MACFARLANS RABBIT-DINNER,
of the rabbit, and the still richer flavour of Mrs. Macfarlan's
flattering incense. His two thumbs, however, gradually slid
round to the top of the armpits of his waistcoat, under the
rise of his swelling feelings, until the tips of his fingers were
level with the crown of his head, and this characteristic
position he maintained till his well-pleased better-half had
put down his share of the rabbit-soup, and told him to
" enrich his bluid wi't," and to mentally " thank his Maker
for the toothsome mercies bestowed."
Johnny, feeling in his heart that the " cook " had already
been duly thanked, did not hesitate to inwardly thank, the
''bestower of the mercies" agreeably to Mrs. Macfarlan's
request. Thereafter the whole family circle sat down to
discuss their share of the grand rabbit-dinner.
" An' what was the minister savin' till't the day, Betty ? "
asked Johnny, as he warmed to his savoury dinner.
" Oh, he was jist grand, Johnny, dear," joyfully responded
Mrs. Macfarlan, as she " sooked," with evident relish, one of
the " hint legs " of the rabbit.
" Was he as guid's the rabbit, Betty ? "
" Eh, ye sly auld sweetie ; ye're tryin' to fish anither com-
pliment frae me ? "
" Weel, then, Betty, tell me what was auld Mr. Orthodoxy's
subject this afternoon — effectual calling ? fore-ordination ?
foreign missions ? local Dorcas societies ? "
" Nane o' them, Johnny," interrupted Mrs. Macfarlan.
" What then, Betty ? "
•' The New Jerusalem."
" The New Jerusalem ! — h'm."
"Ay, an' I wish we were a' safe there, Johnny."
" Will there be ony biled rabbits there, Betty ? "
" I hope sae, Johnny ; an' if they taste as weel's this yin,
there canna be owre mony, I think."
" Ay, but, Betty, ye maun bethink yersel' a bit ; a Scotch
rabbit cooked owre a hamelv coal-fire is a' richt enough, but
MRS. MACFARLAN S RABBIT - DINNER. 17
what aboot a sidereal rabbit ? — wha can tell the flavour of a
sidereal rabbit, born an' bred amang the rolling spheres, an'
cooked maybe ; by a stroke o' lichtnin' ! Eh, ye wisna thinkin'
on that, Betty ? "
" Sidereal rabbits, Johnny ; what sort of animals are
they?"
"Inhabitants o' the spheres, Betty, inhabitants of the
rollin' spheres — star rabbits, ye ken. Ye surely dinna sup-
pose, Betty, that ye're to be the only immortalised being up
yonder ! For my pairt, Betty, I wad rather stay where I
am on this roun' ball, than inhabit the New Jerusalem wi'
some folks I ken."
" What roun' ball d'ye refer to, Johnny?" quite innocently
asked Mrs. Macfarlan, looking at the same instant under
the table ; " what kind o' a roun' ball are ye referrin' to ? —
is't a ball o' worset, or what ? "
" Oh, this earth, Betty. Ye ken as weel's me that it's jist
roun', an' nae ither possible shape, although ye'll no admit
it."
" Noo, Johnny, I want nae mair argie-bargiement aboot
the circularosity o' the earth. I had mair than enough o'
that subject frae ye the nicht afore yestreen. . Besides, it's
no a Sunday subject to argie aboot."
" Weel, d'ye admit it's roun', then ? "
" No ; an' I'll never admit ony sic nonsense. D'ye think
I ha'e lost my e'esicht, Johnny Macfarlan, an' my senses
alang wi't ? Does that flat table look roun' ? G'wa' wi' ye,
Johnny Macfarlan ; it's even waur than your daft Socialism,
an' that's daft enough."
" Weel, then, Betty, it maun be either roun' or flat ; if it's
roun' "
" We wad rowe afF o't," triumphantly put in Mrs. Mac-
farlan.
" An' if it's flat, wad we no be in danger o' walkin' owre
the edge o't, and fa'in' doon, doon, doon into naething, eh?"
18 MRS. macfarlan's rabbit-dinner.
" I ne'er heard tell o' onybody fa'in' owre the edge o'b
Johnny, lang as I've leev'd."
" There's maybe a muckle heich wa' built a' roun' the
outer edge o't, then, Betty, to prevent accidents, eh ? "
" I wadna wonder, Johnny; but the roun'ness o' the earth
is jist aboot as hard to believe in as the nonsense ye talk o'
the world spinnin' in space. Sic blethers ! Jist imagine ;
if the world's spinnin' east at sic a rate, a body in Gleska
wad never be able to get west the length o' Greenock, so
they wadna ! "
" Ha-ha-ha ! 'Od, Betty, I never saw't in that licht afore.
Betty, ye' re an unappreciated genius — ha-ha-ha ! "
" Oh, ay, jist lauch awa', Mr. John Macfarlan ; but I've
the richt en' o' the stick for a' that, ye unconverted Sawb-
bath-breakin', Socialistic auld vaigabond that ye are ! drag-
gin' me into a heathen discussion on the Lord's Day aboot
sidereal rabbits, the shape o' the earth, an' sic like nonsense !
'Od, if ever again ye bring up the question o' star-rabbits,
or the earth's shape, in my hearin', Sunday or Setterday,
I'll— I'll— I'll "
' Wheesht, Betty, wheesht ! mum's the word ; ye've con-
verted me ; I see't a' noo as plain's a penny. If the earth's
liurryin' east, it's impossible we can ever get faur west ; ye
micht manage the length o' Paisley wi' a stress, but Green-
ock's quite oot o' the question. Ye were in the richt a'
alang, Betty ; the earth's clearly flat, and it's staunin' stock
still. That was a bit guid' rabbit."
Ay, ye're speakin' sense noo, Johnny. If ye'd stick to
the rabbits, an' let the stars alane, it wad be muckle better
for my comfort an' yer ain peace o' mind."
Mrs. Macfarlan at this juncture rose from the dinner-
table, and began putting aside the dishes, in which job sne
was handily helped by her auldest lassie, Maggie.
She was nae mair than half thro' wi't, however, whei>
Johnny, who was jist preparing hansel' for a leisurely
MRS. MAUFARLAN'S RABBIT -DINNEK. 19
"smoke," was startled, doon to the length o' his very
bauchels, by a terrific scream, which was instantly followed
by the crash o' some delf, which Mrs. Macfarlan had ner-
vously let fall to the floor.
« oh ! — oh ! ! — oh ! ! ! " — yelled Mrs. Macfarlan, every ex-
pletive rising to a higher note of horror.
" In the name o' guidness, Betty, what's gaen wrang at
a' ? Ha'e ye swallowed a fork, or what ? "
" Oh, Johnny Macfarlan, what's this ye've dune ? In the
name o' mercy, what's that I see ? " and Mrs. Macfarlan,
her eyes staring in her head, kept pointing at an object only
half discovered under the pawn of the kitchen-bed.
Johnny looked as directed, and, horror ! the head of the
rabbit was peering out, its delicate nostrils twitching with
nervous excitement.
Johnny, it must be confessed, was almost, if not altogether,
as clean dumfoundert at the startling sight as was his wife,
Betty.
The idea of the " biled-and-eaten " rabbit discovering it-
self below the pawn of the kitchen-bed ! and it safe and
snug, too, in the general family stomach ! The thing was
clearly impossible ! — nonsense !
Johnny went nervously over to grup the " thing," as
he called it, when fuff, it jump't briskly across the floor, in
sight of the entire family circle.
" Oh, Johnny Macfarlan ! Johnny Macfarlan ! what's this
ye've dune to me ! What was it ye biled in the pat ? "
" It was the rabbit, Betty, the — the — the rabbit ! "
"Then tell me what's that?" retorted Mrs. Macfarlan,
pointing pathetically at the still alive rabbit.
" It's— it's— it's, eh, an optical delusion ! " gasped out
Johnny, who was at as great a loss as his wife, Betty, to
understand the startling situation.
" An optical delusion !— eh, Lord, what sort o' a thing was
that to bile in a pat ? An optical delusion ! Ye've been
!iO MRS. MACFAELAS'S RABBIT-DINNER.
experimenting on me, ye heartless monster ! Oh, I'm
pushion't ! I feel I'm pushion't ! Rin for the doctor ! —
oh-oh! oh-oh! oh-oh!"
" Ay, Betty, an optical delusion ! or .f ye — ye — ye'll no
believe that, it must then have been a sort o' — sort o' — sort
o' spiritualistic rabbit — the late article! — a kind o' rabbit
medium, so to speak, that has got sort o' — eh — sort o' —
— sort o' — eh — materialised again, ye understan'. Ye see,,
Betty, there's nae real reason, when ye look at it, why rabbits
shouldna ha'e souls as weel as men and women folks — wee
souls, ye ken, Betty, maybe the size o' hazel nits — an' grant-
ing that, Betty, the late biled-an'-eaten rabbit has maybe .
cam' back in the material flesh, so to speak, jist to kind o'
bid us an affectionate guid-bye; though, I frankly confess,-
Betty, I'd much rather see the animal sittin' in a higher
sphere the noo, chowin' a spiritualistic cabbage blade, than
fuddin' aboot oor floor-heid, after being, to a' intents and
purposes, baith bilcd an' eaten! It's a problem, Betty, the
reappearance o't — an incomprehensible, mysterious, philo-
sophic problem."
" Tell me this moment what ye biled in that pat ? ye low,
reckless, experimenting vaigabond !"
" The rabbit, Betty ; I bile't naething out the late rabbit ;
an' ye must allow it was carefully sauted an' pepper't to
taste."
" Whaur dia ye fling the skin an the feet o't ? answer
me that, Johnny Macfarlan, that I may see what in a' the
earth ye biled in the pat ? Whaur put ye the feet o't ? "
" In the asb-bakey there," frankly ad *tted the puzzled
husband.
In a moment Mrs. Macfarlan, fearfully suspicious of the
awful truth, had caught up the domestic article of use
named, and was anxiously peering inside of it.
A single brief trlance assured her wavering mind of the
shocking truth. There lay the cat's skin, and the cat's four
THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY. 21
paws which Johnny had so cleverly snipped off. Horror of
horrors! they had actually eaten the cat ! which, through
short-sightedness, Johnny had killed in place of the rabbit.
When the awful disclosure was thus made certain to poor
Mrs. Macfarlan, she lifted up her voice afresh and — yelled,
literally yelled ! At the same moment, too, she dropped the
" bakey " on the floor, and would the next instant have
dropped bodily herself, if Johnny had not caught her in his
heroic arms.
" Weel," quo Johnny, " I've heard o men folks gettin' the
babby to haud ; but och, it's a sair morning when a man o'
licht wecht gets the wife to haud, an' her seventeen stane, if
she's an ounce ! Neither biled rabbits nor German sausages
could lang withstand an arinf u' like that ! '
THE 17ASHIKG-H0USE KEY.
Mrs. Peascone was a Gleska housewife, and her man Patie
was a journeyman baker. She lived in the top flat of a
five-story East-end tenement, and had for a " below-neibor "
a certain Mrs. Sooty, whose worthy guidman was " daein'
for himsel'," as a thriving sweep.
Now Mrs. Peascone and her neibor-housewife, Mrs. Sooty,
were about as like each other in temper as their worthy
husbands were opposite in trade-colour, and that's no saying-
little.
They were both badly afflicted with uppish notions, were
jealous of each other " getting on " in the world, and had
tongues in their head that went without greasing.
A fortnight back, the worthy pair had a bigger row than
usual, and it a' riz oot o' the disputed possession o' that
vexatious article o' domestic need — the washin'-hoose key.
22 THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY.
Last Monday mornin', it was clearly somebody's " turn "
o' the washin'-hoose, but, the day being fine, twa o' the
tenants claimed it, and hence the awfu' row.
" Can I get that washin'-hoose key frae ye the day, Mrs.
Peascone ? " asked Mrs. Sooty, resting her hands on her twa
stout hainches, as she defiantly confronted her rival, the
baker's better-half.
" No, indeed, Mrs. Sooty, I'm needn't mysel' ; what's mair,
it's no your turn," answered Mrs. Peascone.
" But it is my turn," replied the sweep's charmer
" But it's no, an' ye'll no get it," retorted Mrs. Peascone
■ But it is, an' I will," persisted Mrs. Sooty.
" But I'm tellin' ye, ye'll no," snapped Mrs. Peascone, her
words tasting of temper.
" An' what am I to dae, then This is my day o't ; my
things are a' turned oot an' ready for the biler ; tell me, what
on a' the earth am I to dae, Mrs. Peascone ? "
" Oh, jist dae withoot it, Mrs. Sooty, as mony a better
woman has often had to dae before noo," snapped Mrs.
Peascone.
" Ye impident woman ! " returned Mrs. Sooty, " to pre-
sume to talk to yer betters in that fashion ! There's
peascone conceit for ye ! H'm ! oeascones, five for tip-
pence!"
" My betters ! — h m ! I'm or mail account than an auld
pock o' soot, onyway," retorted Mrs. Peascone.
" Weel, maybe, Mrs. Peascone, but let me tell ye this :
you, above onybody, should never be in a hurry to expose
your poverty-stricken washin' ; for it's weel ken't there's
no a ra<r ye hing oot but has a hole in't a craw could tiee
through ; an' as for your puir man's shirts, they're jist fair
greetin' apologies ! "
" An' what business ha'e ye to meddle wi' my man, or
what he pits on his honest back, ye arrant jaud that ye are !
He's aye white an' clean onyway, an' that's a deal mair than
THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY. 23
can in common conscience be said o' your dirty auld pock o'
soot ! " and Mrs. Peascone slapped her hands together by
way of enforcing her sarcastic taunt.
" My dirty auld pock o' soot ! Weel, a sweep's as guid as
twa floury bakers ony day. What's mair, Mrs. Peascone,
oor Johnny's no nearly sae auld as your floury Pate ; an'
that's tellin' ye to your face, Mrs. Peascone ! "
" Ay ! ou, ay ! an' I suppose, according to that, ye'll be for
makin' oot that ye yoursel' are really younger than I am,
Mrs. Sooty ? "
" By a guid dizzen o' years ony way, auld peascones, five
for tippence ! "
" Weel, if ever I heard the like o' that ! " exclaimed Mrs.
Peascone, lifting her two hands as if in supplication, " an'
me jist twenty-five next Martimas ! "
" Twenty-five next Martimas, Mrs. Peascone ! Ye're fifty,
if ye're a day ! an' that's tellin' ye to your faded face ! "
" My faded face ! Weel, of course, it's no sae puffy as
your puddin' face— that's understood, Mrs. Sooty. We're
no a' sae dooble-faced as ye are, feedin' a' day on ham and
eggs behind your puir man's back ; while he has to hing
thegither on parritch the hale week ! It's no what a woman
mak's o' hersel', Mrs. Sooty— it's what she mak's o' her
man. Compare oor twa men, Mrs. Sooty ! — compare oor
twa men ! Ah ! ye're sair hit there, my woman ! "
A shout of derisive laughter was Mrs. Sooty 's tantalising
response.
" Oh, ye may lauch, but it's what a' body kens," persisted
Mrs. Peascone.
" Ay, I may weel lauch," sneered Mrs. Sooty ; " an' dae ye
really ca' puir, wander't-lookin' Patie Peascone a ' man ' ?
If ye dae, ye're a darin' woman, Mrs. Peascone ! "
'Weel, he's certainly something better than a twisted-
lookin', bowley-leggit, wee handfu' o' humanity like your
insignificant bit object o' a man!" thrust in Mrs. Peascone.
24 TUE WASHING-HOUSE KEY.
"An' wad ye really ha'e the cheek to compare for a mo-
ment yon lang, thin, shilpit, pipe-shankit, white-chaff't
drink-o'-soor-milk-an'-cauld-gruel to oor Johnny ? Na, na !
Patie Peascone will never for one moment compare wi'
Johnny Sooty ; for if Johnny is a thocht bowley in the legs,
he's no in-knee'd, thank guidness ! "
" H'm ! a bonnie airmf u' atweel ! " sneered Mrs. Peascone ;
" set her up wi' a black sweep ! "
" He's as guid-lookin' as your lang, white, deein'-lookin'
streak-o'-cauld-dough, onyway ! " snapped Mrs. Sooty. "An'
if I but ken't the bake-house he tramps the dough in wi'
his big splay feet, I wadna alloo mysel' to carry a single
loaf oot o' the premises — neither for love nor money ! D'ye
hear that, Mrs. Peascone ? "
" An' if I ha'e to tramp five miles when next I need my
kitchen lum soop't, your man '11 no dae 't ; dae you hear
that, Mrs. Sooty ? The last time he pretended to soop my
kitchen vent, he chairged me sixpence for twa minutes'
wark, an' it was smokin' waur than ever three days
after 't ! "
" Sixpence, did ye say, Mrs. Peascone ? It's ninepence
that's the professional price. Bat oor Johnny's a rale
feeling man, an' if he only chairged you sixpence, it's been
because he took fair pity on your cauld nose an' starved-
lookin' face, puir woman ! "
" I want nane o' your insultin' remarks, ye ill-tongued
sweep's wife! " replied Mrs. Peascone, warming up a bit.
" Nor I yours either, ye lang, ill-filled, bag o' flour ! " re-
torted Mrs. Sooty.
" G'wa oot o' my presence, ye black-lookin' pock o' soot !"
rejoined Mrs. Peascone, making to shut her door.
" Deliver me up that washin'-hoose key, then, ye peascone-
lookin' fricht ! " demanded the wroth Mrs. Sooty.
"Ay, when it's your turn o' the washin'-hoose; but no
till then, if ye were to bring the Ian' doon aboot my lugs ! "
THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY. 2o
and with a loud bang Mrs. Peascone slammed her door in
the face of her defeated rival.
Mrs. Sooty, though thus severely handicapped, was not to
be so easily done. She wanted the last word, and she had
it. Bending down, she placed her mouth at the key-hole of
the closed door, and shouted in —
" Ye're a' there, Mrs. Peascone ; hut tell me, if } 7 ou please,
wha was't put a bawbee in the kirk-plate, an' lifted oot
the fourpenny bit, eh ? Answer me that, auld taurrie
fingers ? "
Mrs. Sooty waited an answer, which, however, never
came ; so, having thus spiked the enemy's cannon, she con-
sidered herself free to withdraw with honour from the field
of strife.
The " row," however, was not yet ended. About eight
o'clock that same evening, a loud assertive knock brought
Mrs. Sooty to her door with unusual promptitude, and, on
opening the door, she was slightly taken aback to find her-
self confronted with the worthy man of flour himself —
Patie Peascone.
Mrs. Sooty took in the situation at a glance, and awaited
impending hostilities.
" Did you ca' my wife a thief this mornin', Mrs. Sooty ?"
solemnly asked the baker, his eyes rolling in his head with
nervous excitement.
" No ; I never used siccan words, Mr. Peascone."
" Did ye no say Mrs. Peascone drap't a bawbee in the
kirk-plate, an' pick't up a fourpenny bit ? Answer me that"
" Johnny, come here a moment ; Mr. Peascone wants to
see ye," was Mrs. Sooty's adroit reply.
In two seconds the veritable Johnny was at the door, still
unwashed, like his toiling brother Patie, who had come down
to settle the row in his shirt-sleeves.
" What's wrang ? " inquired the sweep. " Wha's lum's on
fire ? "
3
26 THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY.
"Mrs. Sooty, there, ca'd my wife a thief this mornin';
that's what's wrang wi' the batch o' bread ! "
" I never did," answered the sweep's charmer ; " I merely
asked her. in a ceevil way, wha was't put the bawbee in
the kirk-plate, an' syne lifted oot the fourpenny bit ; that
was a'!"
" An' is that no ca'in' my wife a thief in plain words ? "
asked the wroth baker.
" Well, not necessarily," put in the ingenious man of soot,
sticking his two thumbs in the armpits of his waistcoat ; " it
simply implies that the points o' your wife's five fingers
were unduly magnetised ; that's a' ! "
" I want nae nonsense, Mr. Sooty."
" Neither dae I, Mr. Peascone."
"Then what apology am I to cairry up to my abused
mistress ? " demanded the angry man of flour.
" Nane whatever," answered the self-assured man of soot.
" Then tak' that ! " said the baker, slapping the sweep's
begrimed " face-plate " with his floury bonnet.
" An' tak' you that ! " as smartly replied the man of soot,
leaving the black impress of his five sooty knuckles on the
baker's floury countenance.
A free fight thereupon ensued. Consider the exquisite
situation — a sweep and a baker fechtin' ! The result in a
pictorial sense was graphic and amusing in the extreme. In
ten seconds the whole stairhead was turned out, including
the rival housewives, and for some minutes nothing was to
be seen but a great cloud of white and black dust, with the
legs and arms of the combatants flashing through it like the
spokes of a revolving wheel.
The alarm being raised, Dugal MacSporran, a Highland
constable, who happened to be perambulating the back-
court, came hurrying up, and seeing a great cloud of dust
on the stairhead, with a wheel of human legs and arms
revolving through it, he concluded that the house below
THE WASHING-HOUSE KEY. 27
•was on fire, and that the imprisoned tenants were struggling
to burst their way up through the broken ceiling.
Clutching at a displayed hand, he quickly dragged out
Mrs. Peascone, who made strong efforts to return, crying
aloud, —
" My man ! my puir murdered man ! "
" Haud her back ! " sang out the excited constable, while,
quick as thought, he made seizure of a second arm, and
dragged into view the veritable baker, who was spotted
from head to heel with great black splairges of soot.
In a crack, the energetic constable had succeeded in haul-
ing out from the heart of the supposed flames the two
remaining victims, thus completing the noble work of
rescue, and the cloud of dust having cleared away, the mis-
taken constable saw with astonishment the lobby floor
whole and uninjured.
" Bless my heart ! " he once more exclaimed, addressing
the turned-out stairhead, " if I'll no thocht there was a great
fire racing in ta hoose below, wi' six or twa o' the tenants
being burned to death in ta raging flames ! "
" It's waur than even that," answered the man of dough,
" it's the murder o' my wife's character by that black woman
there, an' the attempted murder o' mysel' by that African
man o' hers ! — that common lum-sw r eep ! "
" An' I've a counter chairge against that peascone lunatic
there," retorted the man o' soot. " Look at the awfii' mess
he's made o' my ' mournings ' ! I'll need to be rubbed a'
owre wi' a cake o' Nixey's black-lead to get back my lost
trade colour. The floury rascal has spotted me like a
Chinese panther. Look at the mess I'm in ! Just look at
that ! Catch me gettin' into grups again wi' a baker ! Not
if Joseph knows it ! " — (vigorously brushing off* the white
flour from his sable " mournings.")
" I'll see ! I'll see ! It's shist a common stairhead-fecht,"
said the constable ; " an' when you'll next fecht, my goot
28 THE WOOIN' 0' KATE DALRYMPLE.
friends, I hope that, like ta Kilkenny cats, ye'll no stop till
there's naething left o' ta lot o' ye but six or fowr pairs o'
auld bachels. Coot nisrht ! "
Mrs. Sooty and the worthy Mrs. Peascone are far f rae being
close friends yet, but a few days after the diverting " row,"
the twa husbands successfully " made it up " owre a snug
dram, shaking hands with each other up to the very elbows.
As for the disputed washing-house key, it still remains a
bone of contention on that same stairhead, and is likely to
remain so, unless the disputants learn to think less of them-
selves and more of their neighbours — an advice worthy of
the best domestic cultivation.
THE WOOIN' 0' KATE DALRYMPLE.
In the gable end of a row of old thack houses, which formed,
half-a-century since, a wing of the weaving clachan of
Strathbungo, lived Kate Dalrymple, a homely old maid of
some sixty odd summers.
Kate, according to rumour, was quite the reverse of a
beauty. She had neither features nor complexion, and cir-
cumstances had made her very poor and dependent.
Thus situated, poor, neglected Kate Dalrymple had been
allowed to vegetate into the condition of a sour old maid,
without a single lover ever " speerin' her price." Kate, of
course, maintained a very different story. She had been
asked in marriage times without number, but she had never
yet seen the man she could thole to love and live with.
But the chance occurrences of life are many, and an acci-
dental event — the rumour of which was already brewing in
the parish — was destined to completely change the quiet
tenor of Kate Dalrymple's lonely and neglected existence.
THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE. 29
Her maternal uncle — a rich, old Indian merchant — had died
suddenly abroad, leaving her, rumour said, a legacy of
£10,000.
There was a grain of truth in the rumour. The rich old
uncle had really died, and had left his obscure relative, Kate
Dalrymple, ten pounds— if not £10,000 ! The bulk of the
deceased uncle's fortune had gone to a surviving sister in
England, and the ten pounds legacied to poor Kate Dal-
rymple had been gratuitously magnified by the village
gossips into the startling sum of £10,000 !
Kate, it must be understood, was not responsible for tne
error. She was daily and hourly hearing the sum left her
variously stated, each rumour taking a higher flight than
the former, until — in imagination, at least — she might rate
herself the wealthiest maiden lady in the village.
The result of all this, as was to be expected, was amusing
in the extreme. By a curious reversion of all her former
experiences, Kate, hitherto the loneliest and most neglected
of womankind, now found herself the observed of all ob-
servers. Hats and caps were respectfully lifted to her as
she modestly limped by; while courtesies and congratulations
from unknown friends and relatives were freely offered her.
All this was novel and amusing to poor Kate, if not
actually agreeable and pleasant. It was useless attempting
to reason down the absurd rumour. It daily grew in pro-
portion to the opposition offered it. The village had made
up its mind on the matter, and lucky Kate Dalrymple was
now a wealthy and fortunate woman, who would prove a
fine " catch " to some needy fortune-hunter, gifted with an
elastic conscience, and an oily flattering tongue. Within
the last few da} 7 s, she had been visited in turn by the
entire village, from the parish minister down, and the
harder she tried to reason her friends out of the amusing
mistake, the more strongly did the wondering villagers
believe in the reality of her £10,000 legacy !
SO THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE.
The rumour soon spread beyond the parish boundaries,
and Willie Postie, the village letter-carrier, was " jist kept
on the trot " delivering letters of congratulation to Kate,
from outlying friends and relations, of whose existence she
had never known before.
A number of these epistles took the form of love-letters,
the writers of which, in numerous instances, made business-
like offers for her hand ; and Kate Dalrymple was an
amused, if not a happy woman in the perusal of their con-
tents.
It was an occasion of this kind that Kate, having had an
•extra bundle of letters put into her hand one evening, sat
down to a perusal of their contents, fortified against any-
thing approaching to nervous surprise by taking a good pre-
liminary pinch of snuff. Seating herself by the fire, she
proceeded to inspect the letters in detail.
" Here's yin frae David Dinwiddie, warper, Clayslaps.
Weel, we'se hear what Davoc Dinwiddie's sayin' till't, tho'
I'm certain I never in life had the pleasure o' even kennin'
him."
Kate reads :— « 12 Stoor Terrace,
" Clayslaps, October the second.
"* My deer Miss Kate, — Pleeze acep the followin' pome,
addrest to yoor sweet self. I hav long admired yoo in
seekret, and I now taik the followin' oppertunity of ad-
dressin' my love-shoot to yoo in person, direck from the
auld Clayslaps, where, in youth's flowery morning, wee twa
ha'e paidl't in the burn, and pu'd the gowans fine. — Hopin
I am not forgotten, yours till death do us divide,
" David Dinwiddie.
" POME.
"To Miss Kate Dalrymple.
" (Written and Composed by her loving admirer, David Dinwiddie.)
" When you an' I was young, Kate,
We wercna vera auld,
We roam'd thegither thro' the 'Slaps,
As I've in trooth been tauld.
THE WOOIN' 0' KATE DALRYMPLE. 31
Sometimes we walkit airm in airm,
Sometimes we sittit doon,
But aye the owre-come o' oor sang
Was love's seraphic tune.
" I lov'd the weegle in your walk,
Sae bonnilie ye went ;
I lov'd the sneevil in your talk,
Doon thro' the nostrils sent ;
I lov'd ye early, lov'd ye late —
Nae love, dear Kate, like mine !
O, wilt thou — wilt thou — wilt thou be
My ain auld valentine ?
" P.S. — Dear Kate, — Sir Walter Scott addresst a pome
to Mrs. Scott's eyebroos — but, between you an' me, Kate,
there's no yae feature o' yer bonnie face mair than anither
that I could specialise oot for pomeing. Where all is sweet-
ness an' grace, it wood be invidious to particularise. Per-
fection whispered passing by, ' There goes Kate Dalrymple ! '
" Second P.S. — A line frae you to Clayslaps telling me
when to call on ye, wood much oblige your devoted
"D. D.
" Na, na, Davoc Dinwiddie," soliloquised Kate, " it'll no
fit; yer statement's a stowp that'll no cairry water. I'll
gi'e yer love-epistle a warm reception onyway, whatever
comes o' yer threatened visit," and, pou the warper's billet
was thrown into the fire.
" What's next, I wonder ? "
Reads : —
" Coal-Ree Square,
' Towe-Rowe Land, Cross-Bungo,
'Thorsday Morning, October 33rd.
" Mrs. Kait Drympell.
" Dear Mum, — I'm after axin yees, ii ye've any noshun
ov chingine yer single life into the W style ? If yees have.
I'm yer man ! And let me tell ye, a better or a more shoot-
able husband than meself ye'll not find attwix this and —
I dont know whare. I've got a good-going Coal-ree, well
stock't wid all the latest black ' digs ; ' wid ten small
32 THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALEYMPLE.
hand-barrows — all new, too, d'ye moind ; not to mention a
second-hand cuddy an' a cart — which the entire same is at
yer swate disposall, if you'll be after having me. An' let
me tell yees, in wan word — that's there not a harder- workin'
coal-ree manufacturer between Towe-Rowe and I dont no
whare — and miles beyond that, too, or may the hangman's
rope know me neck ! I've £2 in the bank ; an', what's
more, I'm a good man as well as a wealthy man. I've two
karracters from the good priest here, and live from the ould
parish minister — an' al ov racent date too, d'ye moind ! — be-
sides a whole chestful ov ould karracters, the same which
I'm prepared to sell for a moderate price to any man in
want ov a situation, and any single wan of which would set
up a man for life ; and it's the virgin truth I'm tellin' yees.
An', mum, if ye're on for me, an' me Coal-ree, an' me karrac-
ters, an' me twelve new hand-barrows, an' me cuddy an' me
cart, an' me £2 in the bank, an' I dont no what al, jist
say what night I'll come round an' pay me addresses to yees,
wid a clane shirt an' me best hat on ; for I'm fairly be-
witched wid yer purty face, an' yer winsum, wilin' ways,
an' yer low swate musickall voice. So, name the happy
day, mum, an' take possession of
" Yoor ould an' earnest Admirer,
" Barney Coal-Gum.
"P.S. — May I ax yees to favour me be return ov post
wid a fottgraph ov yer own swate face, so as I may hev
some noshun ov the personal appearance ov the swate an'
cnticm Judy I'm now addressin' ? Plase also to state if
yees can count, as I've the intintion of giving yees the
entire charge ov the weigh-scales in the Ree, when wance
you've become the happy Mrs. Coal-Gum. — Hopin' to hev a
favourable reply,
" I am, deer mum, yours entirely,
" Barney.
" P.S. wance more. — If vees moind makin' any personal
enquiries about me, yees needn't; for there's not a wan in
Towe-Rowe knows a happorth about me, except ould Mickey
M'Ghee, and he knows nothing about me whativer; an'
that's the virgin truth I'm tellin' yees, or may the rope
know me neck.
" Yoor devoted wan,
" Barney."
THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE. 33
" My certie ! " exclaimed Kate, " a coal-ree's no to be
sneezed at, wi' the winter fast settlin' doon to frost an'
snaw ; but, meantime, we'll pit Barney Goal-Gum's epistle
amang its local acquaintances — the heart o' the fire. But,
preserve us, here's anither ! an' a' the way frae the Hielan's,
tae ! "
Beads : —
" Ta Skyes,
" Portree, October ta 85.
" To Miss Kate Dalrimple.
" My teer Mattam, — I wass pe very klad to meet wis an
old friend of mine from Klasko, as was bee tellin' me he wass
saw you there next week, and you wass be keepin' very well
whatever, and was twice as more petter than you had been
before for both before and since. My wife, Petsy, is rale pad
shust now with ta windy kolics in ta stomach, and if ta
gale increases to a hurricane, and she'll die, I'll hev to come
down to Klasko to pe seekin' a new wife ; and as I'll hev
heard you'll hev got ten soosand pounds left you, you cood
not get a more petter man to took care of it than your well-
meaning friend and future husband,
"Dougal M'Tavish.
" P. S. — My father and your father were well acquant,
and were in a manner related to each other, as I'll hev
heard tell, for they very frequently often exchanged snuff-
boxes, and took numerous drams wis each other on Sundays
petween the kirk-preachings. So, if anything happens wis
Petsy, I'll come down ta Klasko in my fishing-poat at wance,
and arrange ta pisness in private wis your own sweat self.
" Yours till death, and twice as more,
" Dougal."
In a second Kate had flung Dou<ral's fish-smelling letter
into the fire, and picked up the next to hand. Glancing at
the address on the envelope, she read —
" Mis Kate Dalrimpel,
"At the Auld ThacJc Hooscs,
" Strabungo."
S4< THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE.
" Oo ay, I ken fine wha's scraggy handwriting that is —
it's frae auld Jean Tow, the ' Camlachie relict,' widow o'
auld Johnny Tow, an' a forty-second kizzen o' my mither's.
Noo, I wonder what auld Jean's wantin' wi' me ; but stop
— it's the siller, I'll wager. The soogh o' my legacy's gane
east the length o' Camlachie, and this is Jean's note o' con-
gratulation."
Reads : —
" Weaver's Raw, Camlachie,
" Thursday nite,
" | past 10 p.m.
Deer Miss Kate, — I hop this reeches yew all well, as
it leeves me at presint, except a bad koff, wheech bothers
me at nite, and wheech I am poultisin' with linseed meel
and mustart, and a chapter off Scriptur. And now, my
deer Miss Kate, to return to family matters, doo yew know,
I have found out that yew and I are klossly related to
each other. My late respectit faither — rest and bless him !
— was half-kizzen to a full kizzen of yoor respectit mither.
And so, my dear Miss Kate, to come to the pint, I'm rale
glad to think ye, in a measure, blood off my blood, and
flesh off my flesh. And I'm certain sure, if my late lamented
Johnny Tow was leevin this day, he would be the first to
congratulate us baith on the happy relashunship. But I'll
be yont yoor way the morn's afternoon, when I'll tell yew-
all the news. For I'm wearyin' rale mutch to see yew, as
there's no anither woman atween Camlachie and Stra'bungo
that I respeck haff so mutch as I do my deer oot-lying frien'
and blood relashun, Kate Dalrimpel.
" From yoor most affeckshunate relative,
"Jeanie Tow.
* P.S. — I was very neerly forgettin' to mention the news
I've just heard — that you've been left a fortin'. I'm rale
glad to heer o't. Is it true ? Ten thoosand pounds, they
say ! Oh, my, Kate ! if Johnny Tow had only been livin'
this day — rest and bless him ! — would not he have valued
his wife (noo, alas ! a relict) and her wealthy relashuns.
Eh, me, my deer Miss Kate, but it's an unco kald bisness
to be a deid man's relict, mair especially when the blankets
THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE. 35
are worn thin, and there's nae meal in the girnel, nor ham
in the f ryin' pan, no to mention a ' bottle ' as dry as a simmer
stove ! But I'll be roond yoor way the morn's afternoon,
Kate, and till then I'm yoor devoted frien' and klossly-
r elated blood relashun,
"Jeanie Tow."
" Me a blood relation o' auld Jean Tow's ! Weel, if that's
no the hicht o' impidence ! She needna try to tak' the len'
o' me wi' her 'My dear Miss Kate' this, and 'My dear
Miss Kate' the ither thing, for — fuff— there gangs her letter
into the fire ! But stop ! there's a knock at the door, an'
I hope it's no auld Jean herself.
Kate (from the inside)—" Wha's that ? "
Voice (from the outside)— " It's me, Jeanie Tow, frae
Camlachie, relict o' Johnny Tow, bless his beautifu'
memory ! "
Obedient to the summons, Kate got to her feet, and going
to the door admitted the interesting " relict."
" It's you, Jean ! " was Kate's salutation ; " what blast o'
win' has blawn you here ? "
" 'Od, ye may weel ask that, Kate ; I've jist been blawn
clean oot o' breath in comin' sae faur on fit. Yes, I'll sit
doon a blink, thankee, for I'm jist fair dune oot. Hech
me ! when a body gets up in life a bit, their legs fail them
Ye ken, Kate, I haena oor John's kind airm to lean on noo
Eh, lass, when yince a woman's been in the twa-some traces,
life's a wearisome journey wantin' the bit man. Thankee,
I'll tak a bit taste o't— jist the wee'st pourin', tho', for I'm
deid against the dram for onything mair than medicine.
A bit thimblefu' o't, tho', syndet owre wi' a strong pepper
mint drap, breaks the win' on the stammach finely. Yes,
Kate, in wan moment I'll tak' it oot o' yer han', thankee,
but stop till I get off this precious bonnet, for I declare, the
win' got sae muckle into the coal-scuttle back o't comin'
doon the road there that the strings nearly cuttit awa the
33 THE WOO IN' O KATE DALRYMPLE.
very breath o' my being. Here, pit it past, if you please,
an' tak care o' the feathers, for they're jist preen'd in, as ye
may see."
" That's no a rale ostrich feather, is't, Jean ? "
" An ostrich feather ! Fack, no ! Ye'll no find Johnny
Tow's modest relict sportin' an ostrich feather in her hat,
Kate. It's jist a bunch o' hen's feathers. I pu'd them frae
the win^s o' a neibor's auld clockin' hen this mornin'."
" Weel, if that disna bate a' ! An' what ava brocht ye
roun' my way, Jean ? "
" Oo, jist to congratulate ye on your fortin, ye ken. I
wrote an' posted ye a most beautifu' and touchin' letter,
tellin' ye I was comin', did I no ? "
" Ay, Jean, but what was the use o' puttin' yersel sae
much aboot owre a triflin' bit legacy that's no worth
speakin' aboot ? "
" Eh, me, Miss Kate, that my twa lugs should hear ye ca'
ten thoosan pounds a trifling legacy ! "
" Wha tell'd ye it was ten thoosan pounds, Jean ? "
" Oh, ilka yin says't."
" Weel, ilka yin's wrang."
" Wrang ! " gasped the relict.
" Ay, wrang ; it was only ten pounds I was left, an' no'
ten thoosan as the folks roun' aboot here threep."
" Eh, Miss Kate, but ye're a slee yin. But ye needna be
ocht but confidential wi' me, for I'm no snokin' after yer
fortin, guid kens ; it's yer ain personal health an' comfort
I'm concerned aboot, Kate, an' no yer ten thoosan pounds."
" Thankee, Jean ; but I repeat it was only ten pounds
that was left me, an' no a broon penny mair ! "
" Lassie ! lassie ! the craws 'ill get ye for that big lee.
But, d'ye ken, Miss Kate, I've brocht ye a grand present."
" An' what's that, Jean ? "
" It's jist this, Kate " (unwrapping from a newspaper an
old family-sized umbrella), " an' ye're no to be perneckity
THE WOOIN' O' KATE DALRYMPLE. 37
modest, an' set up an affronted refusal. There ! tak' it ! a
grand auld family umbrella, scarcely ever used, an' no a
preen-pint the waur. Here, tak' it, Miss Kate, an' lang may
ye wauchle thro' life under its protectin' hap ! "
" Thankee, Jean ; the umbrella's big awee, but it'll prove
usefu' in a doonfa' o' rain."
" Ay, an' in simmer sunshine tae, Miss Kate ; for, let me
remind ye, it's yer ladyship's complexion that's needin' pre-
servin', noo that ye've become a Missey o' fortin. An',
believe me, Miss Kate, a better sunshade than that same
auld family umbrella disna exist between Camlachie an'
the Amerikeys."
" Ay, ay, Jean ; but for ony sake gi'e owre that haver
aboot my legacy, my ladyship, an' a' that nonsense. It's
only ten pounds, an' no a penny mair, I've been left, tak'
my honest word for't."
" Miss Dalrymple, the craws '11 get ye for that big lee.
Weel, I'm sure it's neither here nor there to me whether it's
ten pounds or ten thoosan'. Wi't, or wantin't, ye'll aye be
dear to me, as the auld sang says ; tho', for yer ain dear
sake, Kate, I'd like to think it the big sum."
"Thankee, Jean; but, as I've got to answer for't, it's
only ten pounds I've fan heir to, an' no a bawbee mair."
This was a staggerer to the relict, and completely
changed, as if by a stroke of magic, the whole tenor of her
mind and tongue.
"An' what in a' the earth — as I should use siccan words —
what in a' the earth put it into yer heid to gang an' circulate
siccan an ill-set, leein', punishable rumour — eh ? "
" Me set afloat the rumour ! On the contrary I've been
tryin' to fecht it doon for six weeks back, an' there it is, as
your presence here this day shows, as lively as ever."
" Whaur's my bonnet, Kate ? " demanded the confounded
relict.
" Yer bonnet, Jean ! 'Od, ye're surely no gaun to hurry
410777
o
8 A POET'S BID FOR FAME.
awa' that way, withoot sayin' a word aboot yer ain health,
or tellin' me what flowers ye're growin' owre Johnny's
lamented grave — eh ? "
" The deil ban you an' Johnny baith for a pair o' even-
doon swindlers ! Whaur's my bonnet, Kate ? It's my
bonnet I'm wantin', an' this vera moment, too. Tae think
(tying on her bonnet) I've come sae faur for sae little — a
perfect gowk's errand ! 'Od, I'm jist fair bilin'. Whaur's
that umbrella I gied ye ? "
" What ! the ' present ' ye made me ? Are ye gaun to
tak' that awa' wi' ye tae ? "
" I've a precious guid mind to tak' the shank o't across
yer chafts, ye leein', deceitfu' auld besom that ye are \
Draggin' me fowr miles thro' the mud to yer miserable door
a' the way frae respected Camlachie; an' a' for jist naething,
tae ! " and seizing up the family umbrella with an angry
snap, the Camlachie relict flounced out of the doorway in a
precipitate rush for home.
" She's awa' ]" reflected Kate ; " but I've yae comfort left
me — I've seen the last o' Tow Jean an' her auld family
umbrella, an' that's yae blessin', if no twa."
A POETS BID FOR FAME.
Johnny Khymer was a carpet-weaver to trade, and a poet
by nature. He spun rhymes as easily as he spun cloth ;
but the latter commodity was more in request than the
former, otherwise Johnny might have made a fortune out
of his " poetry."
At last, however, a wag suggested to Johnny the pro-
priety of selecting higher themes, and going in for a volume
— and fame!
a poet's bid for fame. S'j
A volume and fame ! How Johnny, simple, confiding
man, caught at these talismanic words.
The idea of a book of his poems was lor long a sweet
and well-kept secret. At last, however, he grew so full of
the ethereal subject that he was forced, under an overpower-
ing sense of ecstasy, to confidentially communicate the
momentous project to his wife.
" Mattie," he said, one night, as the pair sat before the
fire, "Mattie, I'm gaun to communicate a great secret to ve."
" Ay, Johnny ; an' what's that ? "
" But ye maunna blab it, mind ye— maunna whisper even
the wee'st word o't, d'ye hear ? "
" It's hard for me when I dinna ken it yet ; what's your
secret, Johnny ? "
"It's this— I'm gaun to publish a volume o' poems— a
volume o' my poems, mind ye."
" Awa' to yer bed, Johnny ; ye've been owre lang up the
nicht," was Mattie's crushing answer.
" Ay, oh ay ; that's a' the encouragement I get frae you.
I'm to keep my poetic licht hid under a bushel, an' jist leeve
an' dee a common carpet-weaver."
" An' what else are ye, I'd like to ken ? Naething else
but a plain-gaun carpet-weaver, the mair's the pity.'
" I'm a poet, Mattie, an' the world will hear o't before the
year's oot," was Johnny's self-conscious answer.
" If you've ony spare time on hand, Johnny, dinna, for
pity's sake, spend it on poetry. There's the grate to black-
lead for yae thing, an' a hundred mair things to help me
wi', apairt frae rockin' the cradle on the washin'-days."
"But there's money in the project, Mattie— there's money
as weel as fame in't."
" Money in't, is there ? Oh, in that case ye'd best pro-
ceed. Noo, when I reflect on't, there's naething I'm fonder
o' than jist a bit namely clinkin' Scotch verse."
" Ay, Mattie ; but it's something lofty I maun try for the
40 A poet's bid foe fame.
... — — ■ — — W— ■ -
public — something higher, more elevated, and with some
aspiring soul in it — higher ! higher ! higher ! " and Johnny,
wrapt in his theme, pointed from floor to dresser, and from
dresser to shelf, until his rising imagination was summarily
checked in its upward flight by the unpoetic ceiling.
" Is't an attic ye're intendin' to flit to, Johnny ? "
asked Mattie, in perfect sincerity.
" An attic ! " sneered Johnny ; " woman, ye're no fit to
be the wife o' a poet. Ay, it's an attic ; but it's an attic of
the soul, Mattie, an attic of the soul ! "
"Preserve us ! " ejaculated the guileless Mattie, who knew
as much about soul attics as she did about arithmetic,
which was exactly nothing at all. " Weel, Johnny, if
there's money in yer ploy, as ye say there is, the sooner
ye're intae't, heid an' feet, the better. Wee Johnny's sair
wantin' a new pair o' shune, an' I mysel' am jist on the
parish for a new bonnet."
" Dinna ye be speakin' o't, Mattie, but if my poems are
published, ye'll no only get a new bonnet, but I'll promise
ye a grand new ostrich feather for't, as lang's yer airm."
The pleased smile which a moment after illuminated
Mattie's homely countenance broadened so ineffably as to
almost put the ends of her rather large mouth into contact
with the tips of her two ears, and the plot of publishing
Johnny's " poems " was thereupon mutually agreed to as the
right and proper thing to do.
So, after a mature consideration of about three minutes
duration, Johnny sat down and concocted a grand " pro-
spectus," in the following " drawing " terms : —
In the Press, and tuill be shortly Published
Price (to Subscribers) 2s. Gd.,
THREADS FROM THE SHUTTLE OF SONG,
By Johnny Rhymer.
In submitting his prospectus the author desires to state
that he has been very warmly encouraged to do so by
A poet's bid foe fame. 41
numerous friends and admirers of his works in verse.
The volume will contain fifty-seven pieces in all, in-
cluding the author's three popular topical songs : —
" Maggie, is your Mother out ? "
" Don't Lift a Dog by the Tail."
" Give Me a Chance to do Well."
The author was in high hopes of making up the collec-
tion to sixty pieces, but his laudable intention was twice
frustrated, his youngest child having one week suc-
cumbed to the measles, while the following Friday
happened to be " washing-day," which once more upset
his sweet incantations with the Nine delightful Muses.
Although flattered by the warm praises of perhaps
too partial friends, the author has not, he sincerely
hopes, allowed his native modesty to be altogether
eclipsed. He recognises himself, poetically of course,
as a small fly on one of the wheels of the great Chariot
of Poetry, as drawn through space by the glorious steeds
of the sun! He hopes, however, to one day have an
honoured seat on the "dicky," and to jerk a god-like rein.
Intending subscribers should send in their names
and addresses without delay (as the edition is limited)
to the author,
Johnny Rhymer,
963 Poetical Place
(Off Poverty Square),
Glasgow.
Eight-hand Door (3rd in the Lobby),
(7 Stairs Up).
God Save the Queen!
" That'll draw subscribers, Mattie, just like a fair mustard
poultice," said Johnny, the moment he had completed the
composition of it, the sweat hailing down his rubicund nose
in crystal beads.
" I hope sae," was Mattie's cautious response, " for I'm in
sair need o' a new bonnet."
" Dinna talk aboot bonnets the noo, Mattie ; cultivate, for
at least six weeks to come, a soul above ribbons an' sic
F. s. 4
42 A poet's bid foe fair
falderals," was Johnny's rather cutting retort, as he rammed
on his hat and hurried like lichtnin' to the printer's, with
the prospectus of his poems in his breeks' pocket.
Next day Johnny was gratified in seeing his "prospectus"
in all the glory of print, and he handed copies about to his
friends and acquaintances with a self-complacent smile
which was truly delightful to behold. Johnny Rhymer, it
seemed, was already on the high road to fame — was, in fact,
off the mere wheel, and was now sitting on " the dicky "
of the great Chariot of Poetry.
" What's the meaning of God Save the Que ex at the
end of your prospectus ? " very gravely asked a Radical
friend of Johnny's ; " is it a bid for a pension, or what ? "
" No, no, no ! It's loyalty ! loyalty ! loyalty ! " proudly
answered Johnnj'-.
" And you a Radical, Johnny ? "
" True friend ; but remember I am also a poet ! — a poet !
and being a poet, my soul is broad enough to take in all
sects and schisms. I am a liberal-minded Radical, and my
soul is as wide in its sweep as the circling heavens ! " and
making his hand fly round at arm's length, expressive of
his words, he accidentally struck off the hat of his friend,
who quickly concluded that poetry had " tooken " Johnny's
brain ; that he was not quite responsible for his actions ; and
that he very probably meant murder against all such as
refused to subscribe for his poems. So picking up his hat
in a hurry, he cried aloud : —
" Put down my name for a copy of your blooming book
of poetry, and let me off safe ! " And in ten seconds the
excited subscriber had put such distance between himself
and the gifted son of the Muses as his bodily safety seemed
to require.
Indeed, the job of canvassing subscribers' names was
a very disheartening one to Johnny, whose spirit was as far
above servility as his poetic soul was above potatoes. One
a poet's bid for fame. 43
rascally person told him that he had no desire to encourage
self-imposed lunacy, and invited him, if ho was a poet worth
his salt, to find a rhyme for the word " orange," a feat
which Johnny distinctly failed to accomplish. Another man,
at whose house he called, set the dog on him ; while a third
callous ruffian threatened to hand him over to the authori-
ties, under warrant of the Police-Bill clause affecting the
disposal of beggars. Moreover, a professional phrenologist
on whom he waited, wanted to " read " his head " as a
curiosity;" a local barber threatened to "shave him;" while
a rival poet whom he accidentally met, and who was also
" on the cadge " with his prospectus, fought him with his
two fists on the question of priority of canvass, and left
Johnny lying on the ground figuratively bleeding at every
pore, and seeing six ways at once. In fact, what Johnny
Rhymer endured on account of his aspiring bid for poetic
fame, the gross material world shall never, never, never
know ! Johnny, in just revenge, wrote an epigram on the
business, which was as follows: —
FAME.
Say, what is Fame ? — a treacle stick ;
The poet, he aspires to suck it ;
It spins and fades — a showman's trick —
And he is left to kick-the-bucket !
In other words, the Summer skies,
That lured him on, resolve to Winter;
The hope recedes ! the vision dies !
And he is left to f echt the printer !
Having thus emptied his charged soul, Johnny concluded
to canvass names no more, but to depend on the merits of
his book, and a public advertisement.
Thus, when the book was really ready for sale, Johnny
took his wife into extreme confidence on the subject, and in-
serted a drawing advertisement in a local weekly newspaper.
He was a poet, of course, and being a poet was very san-
guine of success, so he naturally expected a rush of letters
44 A poet's bid fok fame.
for copies of his book. Thus, he hopefully invested sixpence
in two quires of white wrapping paper, 2 id. in a small ball
of coloured string, a penny in a bottle of gum "warranted to
stick," and about five shillings in postage stamps, — all for
the sending out of his books.
The advertisement duly appeared, and at the kirk on the
following Sunday Johnny could not fix his mind on the
minister's sermon for two consecutive minutes for thinking
of the shoal of letters expected by the Monday morning
post. In fact, he didn't go out that morning to his work,
so as to be ready for the arrival of the 8 o'clock post, and
between 8 and 9 o'clock he asked his wife, Mattie, a hundred
times, " if the postman wasna to be seen in the street yet ? "
Ah, yes ! there was that anxiously-waited-for postman at
last ! He came down the street, crossed over to Johnny's
side, and — passed on to the close below !
" It's a mistake ! " gasped out Johnny ; '' that postman's
no' a' there ! he's overlooked my bag o' letters ; I'll see him
aboot it," and he was making for the door, when an idea
struck him, with the .force of a brick, that perhaps the
replies to the "advertisement" were so numerous, and the
bundle of letters so ver}' huge, that a special man would
shortly arrive at the house with the whole bagful on his
aching back, or a postal van, perhaps, painted red, and with
V.R inscribed on each side of it, would consign its bulky
contents at his door, 9G3 Poetical Place, Poverty Square.
Full of this pleasing delusion, Johnny waited at home
till ten minutes before ten o'clock, but no bagful of letters
arrived, and with a rather vague sense of defeat at his
heart, he returned to work responsive to the imperative
call of the factory bell.
All that day he was busy inventing excuses for the non-
appearance of the expected letters. It was too soon to look
for replies, as the public hadn't yet had time to write.
When he returned home at night there would, of course, be
a poet's bid for fame. 45
quite a pile of letters waiting him, and he would be gloriously
busy all night wrapping up books for the post.
At six o'clock Johnny returned home, and his first words
to Mattie were —
" Is there ony letters ? "
" Yes," said Mattie.
" Hooray ! hoo mony ? "
" Yin ! "
" Great Jupiter ! " gasped out Johnny, as he extended his
hand for the solitary reply to his newspaper advertisement.
He opened it, and found, to his sheer disgust and disap-
pointment, that the writer was also a poet, who, having
seen his address, took the liberty of asking him to subscribe
for his volume, to help him to pay the printer, as he had
lost £10 by the venture, hoping that he (the advertiser)
would be more successful.
Johnny flung the letter into the fire, and drew a sigh
three feet in length.
For the three succeeding days he received letters from
various quarters on quite a variety of topics, but no sub-
scriptions for his volume. He had letters from German
lottery-dealers, cards from local jobbing printers, and re-
quests from country poets to furnish them with details of
the cost of publishing a book of poems, with directions as to
the best method of procedure. All these Johnny de-
liberately tossed into the fire, without the slightest feeling
of compunction, poetical or otherwise. He was hunting up for
a solitary subscriber to his book, but hadn't yet found one.
At last, to bring matters to a crisis, the printer's account
arrived — a truly formidable document, which gave Johnny
a combined dose of the toothache and the " shakers."
However, light was at last born out of the darkness
which surrounded him. A letter by-and-by did come ! — a
letter of the right sort, too, which was a veritable prophecy
of golden fortune to him.
46 A rOET'S BID FOR FAME.
The heaven-sent epistle ran thus : —
" Priory Gardens, Gorse-TWn.
" My Dear, Beloved Bard, — I notice with unfeigned
pleasure the advertisement relative to your book of poems.
Modestly, j-et with a feeling of just pride, you state yourself
to be the author of that most charming of modern song-
gems, which I have never read, ' Give Me a Chance to do
Well.' I will give you a chance, my dear, delightful brother
bard. Put me down for fifty copies of your book of poems,
at £1 each ! Please deliver them here in person, at your
very earliest convenience, and, believe me, your sincere
admirer, " Fred Fanciful.
" To Johnny PJiymer, Poet."
" Hooray ! hooray ! ! hooray ! ! ! " shouted Johnny, when
he had read the flattering and highly generous epistle.
" Mattie, my fortune's made ! I've found a generous patron
at last ! Hooray ! "
" Then my new bonnet's a' richt, Johnny, I suppose ? "
" Gor, woman, can ye no baud yer clackin' tongue aboot
bonnets till a body gets richt baud o' a spoke o' the whirlin'
wheel o' fortune ! I'm fair sick o' baith } 7 ou an' your new
bonnets. Cultivate poctiy, woman ; there's something grand
an' soul-ennoblin' in the very name o't! Weather wet or
dry, I tak' the road for Gorsc-Town the morn's mornin'."
And Johnny did take the road by eight o'clock next
morning, with a sweet bundle of fifty copies of his Poems
on his back — a happy sort of poetical Pilgrim's Progress
vsetting out from the City of Neglect, his eyes and his hopes
set on the fair Gardens of Patronage, to which the bene-
ficent voice of a golden Promise had generously invited him.
Gorse-Town Avas eight miles distant from Glasgow, and
within two hours he had sighted Priory Gardens, and was
presently within the wicket-gate opening on the lawn,
A venerable-looking old gentleman, with long, flowing,
wnite hair, and a smiling expression of countenance, was
complacently sunning himself in a green arbour, which
A POET'S BID FOR FAME. */
overlooked a sloping garden of flowers. In the distance,
the stone porticoes of a noble old country manor-house
were seen through the intervening trees.
" Meet residence for a patron of the poets ! " muttered
Johnny to himself, as he stepped towards the venerable-
looking old gentleman in the arbour, whom he rightly con-
cluded to be the proprietor and good genius of the place,
who had so generously invited him there.
"Mr. Frederick Fanciful, I presume," deferentially said
Johnny, dropping his bundle of books on the gravel walk.
" That's me," said the venerable-looking old gentleman,
smiling with a most angelic sweetness of expression. " Pray,
sir, whom have I the pleasure of addressing ? "
" I'm Johnny Rhymer, the — the — the poet, sir,' stam-
mered out Johnny.
" Abraham — Isaac — and — Jacob ! " exclaimed the enrap-
tured patron, " do my privileged eyes indeed behold a poet !
Oh, this is a proud moment of my existence ! — a red-letter
field-day in the diary of my life ! Come to my arms, my bard !
my brother !" and before Johnny could wink twice, he was
literally in the fond arms of his generous patron, and all
but suffocated with pressure and snuff!
" Achee ! achay ! achoo ! " sneezed Johnny, when relieved
from his patron's choking embrace. Then, he first wiped
the water from his weeping eyes, and afterwards ventured
to make an allusion to the kind order for the fi'ftv copies
of his book of poems so generously given him.
" Oh, yes, of course, of course," answered the good, kind
old gentleman, " I will be delighted to patronise and reward
you ; but, alas ! here comes my evil genius. I must get me
gone. Adieu for the present; may we meet above!" and
kissing his jewelled hand to Johnny, the venerable-looking
old gentleman bowed himself most amiably off.
In two seconds a big, strong, rough-looking fellow con-
fronted Johnny.
48 A poet's bid fob fame
" What do you want here, fellow ?" he gruffly demanded.
Johnny, in faltering accents, detailed the nature and pur-
pose of his visit.
" Great sticks ! are you another poet ? " said the fellow,
with a shout of laughter ; " there have been fourteen poets
here this week already ! Are you not aware the old guv 'nor
(directing his finger at the retiring figure of the good genius
of the gardens) — are you not aware, I ask, that the old
guv'nor is touched ? (tapping his brow with his forefinger).
It's his weakness to write to poets offering them sums of
money, averaging from £5 to £500 for so many copies of
their works. This is your lot of books, I presume? [Johnny
nodded.] Well, pick it up and begone ! "
" But the books were ordered ; I have the old gentleman's
letter, and I claim damages — expenses," put in Johnny, his
whole poetic soul rising into his mouth ; " yes, I claim sub-
stantial damages ! "
" You claim damages, you do ? Then you shall have
them," said the rough-looking keeper, and catching up
Johnny he at once chucked him bodily over the hedge into
the roadway.
Johnny lighted on his physical " fours," and had just suc-
ceeded in scrambling to his two ordinary feet, when he was
once more struck to the earth by his bundle of books which
the unceremonious keeper had thrown after their excom-
municated author.
Such was the end of Johnny Rhymer's dream of fame.
Crest-fallen and broken-hearted, he trudged back to the
city as dead in spirits as a door-nail. He has since aban-
doned poetry as a fraud, and now sticks to carpet-weaving.
Mattie, poor woman, is aye wearing her auld bonnet yet;
the printer's account is still unpaid ; while Johnny remains
a fixed resident in Poverty Square.
JOCK brook's patent umbrella. 49
JOCK BROOX'S PATENT UMBRELLA.
Jock Broon was a neglected genius of an inventive turn
of mind, who believed in himself, and had ideas. Jock was
a born genius, as his mother declared, and had suggested
improvements on the rockers of his cradle as soon as he
could articulate speech. Before he had grown up to man-
hood Jock had invented a whole lot of crack ideas, which
the stupidity of the public, unfortunately for themselves,
would neither acknowledge nor adopt. Jock regretted this,
but hopefully wrocht awa' at his inventions, until his
mither's back-room was as full of plans, sectional views,
drawings, and mechanical models as a town's museum.
" Man, Jock," said his mither yae day, " if ye could only
manage to invent something usefu' your fortune wad be
made. Try your talents on something domestic — an im-
provement in the way o' dress, for instance. There's lots o'
room for improvements there."
Thus encouraged, Jock set to, and invented a machine for
stamping the buttons on bachelor's shirts without the trouble
o' shooin' them on wi' thread ; the poor married men, as Jock
observed, seldom having shirts to shoo buttons on. The
bachelor part of the population, however, fatally blind to
their own interests, never took up Jock's brilliant idea.
Nothing daunted, however, Jock next tried his hand on
what he loftily styled a " New Patent Combination
Umbrella-Hat." The hat in dry weather looked an or-
dinary one ', but, when rain came down, by touching a
small elastic spring, out flopped a broad waterfall rim,
which completely covered and protected face, back, and
shoulders.
This was an original idea. The first day Jock tested ifc
he was chased for his life down the Gleska Gallowgate by
)0 JOCK b boon's patent umbrella.
a howling mob of boys, and half-a-dozen of frenzied
policemen as an escaped lunatic. By running twice round
King William's statue, however, he slipped his pursuers,
and finall} 7 escaped up yin o' the dark stairs o' the Tontine
Close. Concluding, therefore, that this last " idea " was a
trifle in advance of the age, Jock philosophically dropped
the Umbrella-Hat notion, and wisely thought of something
else.
Weel, yae stormy nicht, shortly afterwards, in comes
Jock's mither wi' her auld umbrella blawn outside-in, and
a look o' distress on her face calculated to draw tears o'
sympathy frae a tailor's goose.
" Man, Jock," she said, " could ye no steep yer brains a
bit, an' invent a new umbrella that wad be storm-proof as
well as rain -proof, an' wadna be liable to be blawn
ootside-in ? "
" Oo, ay, easy,' said Jock, and there and then he fell to,
and completed in three weeks a grand new " Patent Storm-
Proof Umbrella," of most capacious size, and which was as
full of ribs, and stays, and patent snap-fastenings as it
could stick. When completed, Jock warranted his new
hurricane umbrel.la to successfully withstand forty pounds
o' win' to the square inch, outside or inside !
Having the courage of his convictions, Jock, on the first
wild stormy day, .set out to test his new 7C-ribbed storm-
proof umbrella,and the result was picturesque in the extreme.
It was raining sma' burns, an' blawin' like perfect mad,
when Jock triumphantly set out, and he hadn't proceeded
six yards till he knew his invention to be a great and
unqualified success. Twa-thrce times terrific gusts o' wind
caught the wide-spread umbrella right under, and nearly
lifted the inventor off his twa feet, but Jock held firmly on,
and the umbrella, to his great satisfaction, remained unre-
versed, and was apparently quite irreversible. Neither wind
nor hail could succeed in even shaking it. Nothing, in fact,
JOCK BROOX'S PATENT UMBRELLA. 51
short of a tumble-down chimney-can, or an overset street
wall, was at all likely to affect its stability in the slightest
degree.
" It's a grand success," thought Jock, as he ploughed his
way along, " my fortune's made at last," when, on turning
the corner of a street a terrible gust of wind caught him
from behind, and Jock, holding bravely on, was dragged
along the street at a break-neck pace, his great invention
draaroing him after it with extraordinary velocity.
" Help ! help ! shouted Jock, as he flew past a Highland
policeman like a visible telegram.
The astonished Bobby dashed after the flying apparition.
So, also, did a butcher's dog, which succeeded, after a stiff
chase, in pinning Jock by the coat-tail. Jock, however,
held firmly on, so did the wind, so did the butcher's dog,
and so, also, did the patent umbrella.
In three seconds more Jock was caught clean up off his
feet, somewhat to his own surprise, with the butcher's dog
clino-ino- to his nether garments. When about a story high,
Jock's coat-tail tore clean away, and down came the butcher s
door, with the same in his mouth.
Thus lightened, Jock continued his aerial flight, a graphic
illustration of the irreversibility of his grand new " Patent
Storm-Proof Umbrella."
Careering over the house-tops, Jock and his umbrella at
length descended in an adjacent street. Elated beyond
measure with the success of his idea, but not particularly
anxious to further test its value, Jock flopped down his
umbrella, stuck it under his arm, and having fixed up his
remaining coat-tail under his waistcoat, he took his way
down the street, and was presently met by the alarmed
Highland constable, who was hurrying excitedly up.
" Did you'll teuk notice off and opserve a thief of an
umbrella runnin' awa' wi' a man an' a dowg?" frenziedly
asked the constable.
52 THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QU1GGS.
■ I did," said Jock, " they're awa'— they're awa' — they're
awa' "
i »
" They're awa' whaur ? Speak ■ Tell her !
" They're awa' wi' the win' — north by north !'' said Jock.
"They're beyond the Campsie hills by this time, but if
ye tak' the first express train to Perth, ye'll maybe
catch them on the way." Thus relieved of the constable's
presence, Jock strode loftily home, and has since made a
gift of his patent umbrella to the Corporation o' Camlachie.
Injustice to Jock's genius, however, his faculty of inven-
tion is not yet exhausted. He is bringing out at the
present time a grand new extra-powerful telescope for
bringing into view a policeman when he's wanted ! If
Jock succeeds in this great novelty, he will have done the
public a real service, and will have the honour of having
satisfactorily solved one of the most incomprehensible
problems of the age.
THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS.
Jonathan Quiggs was a well-dressed bachelor, of middle
age, and select tastes. He was lloor-walker in a large dra-
pery establishment, and was particularly attentive to well-
dressed young lady customers.
The lady customers — particularly those of an 'uncertain
a ge_frequently smiled on Quiggs, and the polite Quiggs
invariably smiled on them in return. It was his business
to do so, as well as his inclination ; for Quiggs, although a
ripe middle-aged bachelor, had not by any means dismissed
from his romantic mind the consideration of matrimony.
His mind was highly sentimental in tone, and his heart was
quite young, having nothing in common with the iceberg
feelings of your theoretical bachelor, whose sawdust heart
THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS. 53
has shrunk through disuse into the condition of a dried
speldring.
At the same time, it must be admitted that Quiso-s had
no immediate intention of marriage. He was hopefully
waiting his chance, and had been gracefully posing for many
years back as a sort of starched and pomaded matrimonial
Micawber, on the hopeful look-out for some beautiful
heiress, or perhaps a rich young Chancery ward.
But the years were passing on, and the beautiful heiress
had not yet turned up, and Jonathan Quiggs still remained
an elaborately starched and pomaded bachelor, the jest of
young maids, and the hope of old.
Time, however, brings many surprises, and Quiggs, the
romantic bachelor of forty-five summers, fell deeply and
suddenly in love.
In his younger years,Quiggs had seen and adored numerous
beautiful girls ; but never, surely, had he ever beheld such a
peerless beauty as this ! He had often been— well, yes, he
would admit it — in love to a certain extent ; but never had
he been in love like this ! He was intoxicated ; took to
writing poetry ; lost his appetite, and went completely off
his dinner ; but the martyrdom was an exquisite one, and
Quiggs daily bloomed, literally bloomed, in flowers, yellow
kids, and spotless shirt-front.
But who was the fair enslaver ? — the dazzling Venus
whose fair face had thus put Quiggs off his quarter-of-a-
pound of dinner sausages ?
Wilhelmina Rose-ina Mumford was a milliner and dress-
maker, who had quite recently taken apartments in a tene-
ment directly opposite Quiggs's bedroom window.
Wilhelmina had a lovely complexion — the rose and the
lily combined — and the first accidental glimpse of her, as
she sat sewing at her window, had given Quiggs the sensa-
tion of a drink of hot treacle. He read his destiny in that
single glance — he was in love; he was a candidate for
54 THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS.
matrimony ; his long-deferred fate was there and then
sealed !
The window at which Wilhelmina usually sat at once
became a source of indescribable charm to him. It was in
Quiggs's eyes the most interesting and special window in
the whole street. It was pleasant to look at even in
Wilhelmina's absence; but when the loved one 'sat and
sewed there, it was a perfect paradise !
By a process of reasoning easily explainable under the
tender circumstances, Quiggs, who loved poetry, found him-
self hourly repeating Hood's analogous poem of
" Over the Way.
" Alas ! the flames of an unhappy lover,
About my heart, and on my vitals prey;
I've caught a fever, and I can't get over,
Over the way !
" My wasted form ought of itself to touch her ;
My baker feels my appetite decay;
And as for butcher-meat — oh, she's my butcher !
Over the way ! "
In point of fact, Quiggs had quite a severe attack of
" over the way," and it brought him into trouble and ex-
pense in various ways, besides " over the way."
In the first place, he was fiftecnpence extra every week
for shirt-fronts, cuffs, and collars, and a good deal more for
scent-bottles and hair pomades. Besides, ho was compelled
— actually compelled — by the warmth of his feelings to pur-
chase a second-hand opera-glass at a cost of 2s. Gd., for
the express and sole purpose of bringing the beloved one
nearer to him when both were seated at their respective
windows.
His appetite for the beautiful, however, was not appeased
thereby one whit, but rather grew with what it fed on.
So much, indeed, was this the case, that Quiggs's jealousy
fairly got the better of his judgment, and his misgivings
THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAX QUIGGS. 55
■were confirmed when one day a rival, as he wildly imagined,
suddenly appeared on the scene.
It was a beautiful summer Saturday afternoon, when
Nature was robed in her gayest attire. The window flower-
boxes were in full-bloom ; the city sparrows flitted from
house-top to house-top ; the street-organs discoursed their
sweetest strains; the house-flies buzzed playfully against
the window-panes, and all was peaceful, bright, and gay.
Quiggs, sitting at his window on the beautiful afternoon
in question, opera-glass in hand, had Wilhelmina delight-
fully focussed, when, ah! he witnessed — yes, actually
witnessed — an elderly person — he wouldn't call him a gen-
tleman — stop right before Wilhelmina's, window, and — look
up !
Quiggs was horror-stricken. With Othello rising in his
breast, he first dashed down his opera-glass, and then dashed
down the stair.
In three seconds he had crossed the street, and reached
the unconscious Cassio of the play, who was an elderly gen-
tleman, carrying gold spectacles and a silk umbrella.
" Y — y — your business, villain ? " seizing the old gentle-
man by the throat.
" Looking for lodgings !" gasped out the terrified victim.
"Ah, 'tis well ! — 'tis well I find not Cassio's kisses on her
lips ! " and loosening his hold of the victim, Quiggs hurried
back to his window, and his — opera-glass.
It is needless to remark that the staid old gentlenU
made instant tracks from the spot, concluding that lunatics
were most certainly about, and that unprotected walking in
that neighbourhood was extremely dangerous.
In yet another way, Quiggs's " over-the-way " mania
brought him into trouble. His daily duty was the onerous
one of directing customers of both sexes, but principally the
fair sex to the different departments, where their wants would
be supplied.
56 THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS.
Now, Wilhelmina Rose-ina Mumford was an ever-present
fact in Quiggs's mind. Her beautiful shadow haunted him
by night and day, and toned his every thought, so that very
frequently in replying to questions asked by customers and
others as to where such-and-such goods were to be had,
Quiggs, wrapped in visions of Wilhelmina sitting sewing at
her window, would reply, without hesitation,"Over the way!"
This laconic advice was in several instances construed by
customers in a strictly literal sense, who, withdrawing from
the premises, effected their purchases, according to instruc-
tions, in a flourishing opposition house on the opposite side
of the street.
Yes, Wilhelmina was a bewitching fact; and at length
poor Quiggs was morally certain that in her, his beautiful
ideal, he had at last met his long-delaved fate '
Wilhelmina Rose-ina Mumford ! — how he luxuriated in the
sonorous cadences of that highly classic name ! He knew
that was her dear, sweet name ; because, had he not read
and admired it in secret, a hundred times over, on the close-
mouth, where it read in gold letters : —
" Miss Wilhelmina Rose-ina Mumford,
"Milliner and Dressmaker.
" 1 Stair up."
Wilhelmina was a prize ; further delay might be danger-
ous; villainous Cassios might be about, where so much
captivating beauty was thoughtlessly exposed at a front
window !
He seriously thought out the position. He had not yet
had a formal introduction to Wilhelmina, but there were
cither ways of reaching the fair one's ears and heart. The
post-office was safe and handy ; so he resolved to conduct
his romantic courtship by letter.
Once decided, Quiets was neither slow nor bashful in
preferring his suit, backed by an immediate offer of his
heart and hand : —
THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS. 57
"My Dearest Wilhelmina Rose-ina" — (he wrote), —
*' Were, oh, were you ever loved by a member of the ruder
sex ? I hope not, although your personal attractions render
the wild hope futile. If, however, your charming heart is
at present ' to let ' — I mean unoccupied — kindly, oh kindly
say so. For I, Jonathan Quiggs, love you dearly, and have
long pined — now three weary weeks ! — for the blessing of
your hand. Will you, oh, will you, be mine ? Tell me by
return of post, and meantime accept of these dumb kisses as
so many warm tokens of my love [here followed half a page-
ful of small crosses], and believe me,
" Your devoted adorer,
"Jonathan Quiggs.'
Quiggs posted this gushing love-epistle at half-past ten
that same night, and next evening, on returning to his lode;-
ings, he found a reply-letter awaiting him. It was a
delicious morsel to handle and to look at; for it was encased
in a pink envelope, and emitted all the blissful scents of
'"' Araby the blest."
"From Wilhelmina!" he exclaimed, as he slit the top
of the envelope with his penknife. " Yes, from darling
Wilhelmina!" and delightedly he perused its contents: —
" My Sweet Jonathan, — You ask me, was I ever loved
by a man, and I reply, ' Yes, I were ! ' by hundreds ! — [' Ah ! '
sighed poor Quiggs, ' I too truly guessed so ; dreadful ! dread-
ful !'] — But I never, never loved one in return, except you.
[Here Quiggs literally smiled from ear to ear.] You
ask me, will I be yours ? and I answer, I id ill I My heart,
my hand, and my purse are all at vour sweet disposal.
Name, oh, name the happy day !
" Oh ! look not in my eyes love,
They tell a tale too true ;
See not my blushes rise, love,
Nor listen to my sighs, love,
For blushes, sighs, and eyes, love,
All speak — all speak for you 1
u Yours for ever,
" Wilhelmina Rose-ina Mumford.
r~ s. 5
58 THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS.
(Here followed three pages of small X kisses, and a post-
script longer than the letter itself, warning Quiggs to be
secret and careful, as she had a dear mamma who was the
sworn enemy of all lovers — Jonathan Quiggs included — and
who wouldn't on any account, tolerate a single visit.)
" Well, that's certainly comforting ! " exclaimed Quiggs.
" Assuredly, I have the prospects of a beautiful mother-in-
law, with a fine temper, too, — the old Gorgon ! But faint
heart never yet won fair lady ; and I'll carry off my beloved
Wilhclmina in spite of her mamma's watchful care. A
romantic and spirited elopement instantly put into execu-
tion is the proper thing to do. I'll elope with the fair one
to-morrow night, taking the express train — to Paisley!"
Thus resolved, Quiggs hastily wrote a second note — a note
of secret assignation — in which he warned his Wilhelmina
to prepare and hold herself in instant readiness, as he had
resolved to elope with her — heart, hand, and purse — on the
following night, at eight o'clock prompt !
By way of consent, Wilhelmina sent him over her check-
key, so as to facilitate matters on the following fateful
evening.
Quiggs was in raptures, and did everything but push
round the hands of the clock to hasten on the happy hour
of — elopement !
By six o'clock he stood ready, stiff with cuffs, collar, and
shirt-front.
When half-past seven came round, he could stand it no
lender, and, sticking his hat on his head, he dashed across
to Wilhelmina's residence, and presently reached the door.
Without stopping to knock, Quiggs instantly applied the
check-key, and presently found himself in a short lobby,
and immediately afterwards he stood in the actual presence
of his fair enslaver !
Wilhelmina was seated before a small looking-glass, ar-
ranging her personal toilet.
THE COURTSHIP OF JONATHAN QUIGGS. 59
" Half-an-hour too soon ! " she exclaimed, with a gasp,
turning half round on her chair.
Quiggs rushed up and seized her in his fond arms.
Her left cheek was red, he saw ; her right cheek white I
" You blush on the one cheek, my dearest Wilhelmina ? "
" The side of my heart, dear ? Can you, oh, can you draw
an inference ? "
" I can, my dear, and a champagne cork, too ! " answered
Quiggs, and kissing her warmly on the blushing cheek,
his lips left a white stain, and — lie thought he smelt paint !
Just at that perplexing moment, the piercing voice of his
prospective mother-in-law was heard crying aloud : —
" Wilhelmina ! Wilhelmina ! come here instantly ! "
" Not this time," cried back the gallant lover ; " it's death,
or Paisley ! " And, catching up the fair one in his fond
arms, Quiggs rushed blindly down stairs, heedless of the
screams of Wilhelmina, who yelled out : —
" Stop ! stop ! for goodness sake ! My leg ! my leg ! "
" Wh — wh — what's the matter with your leg, dearest ? "
asked Quiggs, depositing his fair burden against a lamp-
post at the close-mouth. " Rheumatism — eh ? "
" Oh dear, no ! — not that ! not that ! I've left it in the
room — standing against the mantelpiece !" blushed the fair
one.
"Ah!" gasped Quiggs, "and your purse, Wilhelmina, your
purse ? "
" Oh, it's all right ; it's here," slapping her dress-pocket.
" How much, dearest ? "
" Seventeen and sixpence ! " answered the beautiful
heiress.
" Seventeen and sixpence, and a wooden leg ! Christopher
Columbus ! "
In less than no time, Quiggs had replaced the fair heiress
in her own room, and taken French leave of the premises,
with a lot of the romance taken out of his mind.
GO WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
"Oh, you vile deceiver !— you wolf in sheep's clothing!"
the deserted Wilhelmina cried after him ; " you miserable
sixteen-shilling-a-week counter-louper ! Deceived! deceived !
deceived ! O-ho ! o-ho ! o-ho ! "
But Quiggs went off, and returned not.
Three weeks after he was served with a legal notice of
Mumford v. Quiggs, in a breach of promise case, the damages
being laid at £500.
Quiggs failed to appear, and a warrant of apprehension
was issued against him.
The sheriffs officer went for Quiggs, and Quiggs went to
America.
The case is still unsettled ; so is Quiggs. Wilhelmina is
still unmarried ; so is Quiggs. She hopes she may yet catch
him; so does Quiggs!
WILLIE WEEDRAFS DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
"Willie Weedrap was a clog-maker in the Sautmarket o
Gleska. He was of a highly scientific turn of mind, and was
fond of astronomy, and — a dram.
He was a much married man, Willie, but took humorous
views of life — married life included — and honestly tried on
all occasions to treat domestic differences as he did auld
clogs, that is — to speedily mend them.
His wife Betty had a temper as keen as a bit of Sheffield
cutlery, and domestic rows were commonly frequent, and
not uncommonly high-pitched.
Willie, however, patiently wrocht awa', accepting his fate
as a thing that wadna wash oot, like the cross on the cuddy's
back. Willie was domestically doon-in-the-mooth a bit;
WILLIE WEEDRAP's DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY. 61
but there were waur things in life than a nettlcsome wife,
an' that was — nae wife ava' !
But although only a clog-maker to trade, Willie haa a
soul in his breast, and nursed in his leisure moments aspi-
rations above leather, and cultivated spheres of thought
vastly beyond the circumscribed radius of mere cluggs.
He went boldly in for the study of astronomy assisted by
observations taken through an Eighteen-Penny Spy-Glass,
and could tell his wondering cronies and customers all
about the theory of the planetary system, including the
mountains in the moon, and the composition of the sun.
His wife, Betty, however, gave him no encouragement
whatever in his moonstruck studies, but rather sat on him
as often as he offered to trot out his astronomical craze.
" Leather and science ! cluggs an' star studies!" she would
contemptuously exclaim ; " a fine mixture atweel ! Talk
about comets' tails, an' sic like ; dowgs' tails wad serve ye
better, Willie, pittin' aside for the moment the question o'
guid clugg leather!"
" Weel, maybe, Betty, maybe ; but if ye think I'm to be
tied doon to a dowg's tail a' my days, jist like an' auld tin-
can, ye're labourin' under a gross mistake, my dear woman ;
for let me tell ye, yince for a', that I've a soul greatly above
dowgs' tails, tanned leather, an' clu^c-heels — a soul that
rises to the very heavens on the wings o' knowledge ; while
you — you — you, Betty, were formed by Nature to wear
your puddin head in a mutch, an' plowter awa' a' your
days wi' a washin'-cloot, a hearth-broom, an' a black-lead
brush ! "
After some such lofty tirade as this, Willie, knowing his
wife's Sheffield-cutlery temper, would invariably make for
the door, and would disappear from the fireside for the rest
of the evening, to smoke a pipe an' talk astronomy with a
friend over a social gill in the back-room of one of the
too numerous local " pubs."
€2 WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
The social dram, indeed, was honest Willie's weak bit — the
one vulnerable point in his moral armour which rendered
Betty's persecution of him possible, and, so far, justifiable.
Willie, however, stoutly denied the charge of intemper-
ance at all points, declaring that it was Betty's cutting
temper that was in the blame, and that a canny, nerve-
steadying dram was his only available solace and antidote.
And thereby often hung a tale.
Well, one night shortly since, Willie was at a social merry-
making in an auld frien's house, the occasion being that of
a brother cloa'-maker's marriage to a third wife — a buxom
widow of forty-five summers, who owned an oyster-shop in
the Gallowgate.
Willie's wife would not accompany him, " no' having a
wise-like bonnet to pit on her heid," as she declared, though
Willie saw little wrang wi't ; so our hero took the road
himself, weighted to the moral scupper-holes with strict in-
junctions to "mind and be licht on the dram," and to be
" sure an' be hame by the ring o' ten."
"A' richt, Betty, my dear," assented Willie, " a' richt I'll
no' jist say I'll come strccht hame, as I'm a wee boo'd in the
back, ye ken, but I'll dac my level best, Betty — I'll dae my
level best."
Once outside his own door, Willie dismissed his wife's in-
junctions as just so much useless back-balance, and once
among his friends and fellow-tradesmen, he was merry in
the extreme.
It was eight o'clock in the evening when the marriage
party assembled, and, long before the hour of ten, song and
.sentiment were going the round of the room to the merry
squeak of a fiddle.
Willie had sung three times, and now his turn had come
round once more, and everybody was impatiently applaud-
ing his expected fourth " go " ; so, under the inspiration of
his seventh glass, our hero rose and said : —
WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY. Co
" Ladies and gentlemen, — My next song will be a lecture,
an' the subject o' my discourse will be
DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
Domestic astronomy is yin o' the grandest o' the sciences, an'
bate's cock-fechtin' a' to sticks. (Hear, hear.) It's a remote
theme ; but the application of its grand and lofty principles
to domestic matters is worthy the attention o' every workin'-
man wha values harmonic peace and quateness at his ain
fireside. Courtship and marriage are baith illustrated in
its magnificent laws. (Sensation, and considerable rubbing
of specks, and a voice — ' The dram's tooken Willie's pow.')
In the first place, as the ministers say, the uncertain course
o' love has its counterpart in the laws o' attraction an' re-
pulsion that govern the stellar worlds. There is gravitation,
or the mutual attraction o' twa opposite bodies, an' that's
courtship. (Laughter and applause.) Then, secondly, there's
a law o' repulsion in nature, an' that's exemplified in the
rejected-lover tragedy. (Hear, hear, and laughter.) Thirdly,
there are over-ruling laws o' harmonious concord an' sweet
amity in nature, an' that's married life — wi' a hook ! (Loud
laughter, in the midst of which the lecturer was seen to
stick his two thumbs in his vest pockets, and play sugges-
tive piano-notes with his remaining fingers, accompanied by
a sustained wink of the left eye.) Furthermore, the heid
of the hoose may be fitly likened to the parent sun, the
grand centre o' the fireside starry system, an' the bairns the
wee planets that revolve aroond him, receiving frae him
their light, their life, an' their heat. (Applause, and a voice
— ' An' the wife, Willie, What aboot her ? as she the mune,
or what ? ') Oh, the wife, the wife ! — let me see ; she's a
— she's a — she's a — a — a disturbin' comet that wad been
better left oot o' the programme a' thegither. (Loud laugh-
ter from the spectacled husbands, and groans from the
married wives all round.) Then, gentlemen, if your mind
is harassed wi' care or domestic differences, the contempla-
Gl WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
tion o' the grand starry worlds, aided by a guid-gaun pipe,
soothes the troubled mind, as a linseed poultice daes a sair
linger. Man, proud man, looks wee in comparison wi' the
starry universe ; an' woman — wee'r ! (Hear, hear, from
the married men.) Then, fourthly, there's the unknown
composition o' the sun. (A voice — ' Ay, that's a fizzer t
What's it like, Willie?') It's like the composition o' a
woman's mind — mystery, contradiction, and incomprehen-
sibility. (Angry protestations from the married wives, and
laughter all round.) But maybe, gentlemen, after a', like
the sun himsel', we couldna dae vera weel withoot the
women folks. It's a ticklish question, an' I'll leave every
married man to decide it for himsel'. (Hear, hear, and ironical
cheers.) Weel, to cairry on the analogy a bit farrer, there's,
in conclusion, the November meteors — the * shooting stars,
as they're commonly ca'd. Noo, what possible domestic use,
think ye, can they be applied to ? (A voice — ' Kitchen
coals.') Better than that. Noo listen, married men, for
what I'm gaun to say vitally affects your interests an' do-
mestic peace o' mind. It's said that nae less than fowr hun-
der an' fifty thoosand meteoric stanes fa' frae the heavens
an' strike this earth every day during the year. Noo, it
stan's to reason that if oor wives were instructed in elemen-
tary astronomy, then, when a fellow cam' hame frae a spree,
wi' a wee drap in his e'e, alang wi' a cut heid an' a badly-
damaged hat, an' tell't his flytin' wife that he was struck by
a meteor, she wad certainly believe him. There's no a doubt
o't. (Hear, hear, and laughter.) But apairt frae an' above
a' mere theoretical applications, the study o' astronomy is
the best domestic salve an' comfort a man can have, for it
tak's him oot o' himsel', an enables him to fling aff, as he
wad his topcoat, a' petty annoyances — including the taxes,
the rent-day, and the Sheffield-cutlery temper of a nettle-
some wife." (Loud and continued applause, during which
the ingenious lecturer resumed his scat.)
WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY. G5
Willie's amusing lecture was pronounced the event of the
evening, and thereafter the general fun went so very mer-
rily, that it was well on for the " wee short hour ayont the
twal' " before he thought of rising.
And when at last he did take the road for home, he was
in a state of elevation nearly equal to that of the shining
stars overhead.
But great as was our hero's mental elevation, he could not
rise above the dread of his wife Betty, who he had good reason
to fear was waiting for his return, armed with a sentiment
of just wrath, a tattie-beetle in her right-hand, and a Shef-
field-cutlery lecture, twa yards in length, on the neb o' her
stinging tongue.
" O ! Willie, Willie ! " he muttered to himself, as he stotted
hame, " what'll your wife Betty say to you this nicht when
ye set fit inside your ain door ? Ten by the ring o' the
clock was to see ye hame, and there's the toon-bells ringing
twa o' the mornin' ! Gosh, but I'll cop't frae the wife this
nicht, as sure as clugg-heels are aim. Talk aboot astro-
nomy ! It'll be tangs-an'-poker-onomy for me when I reach
hame, I fear. Ow ! what's that — what's gane wrang V
This latter exclamation was forcibly expelled from our
hero by a pitch-in he had with something stiff, straight, and
unyielding as a stone-wall.
He looked up stupefied for the moment, and saw that he
had collided with a lamp-post.
He felt his head, and it felt bad. He had looked at his
felt hat, and it both looked and jelt bad.
" My heid's naething — it'll mend in a day or twa,' he mut-
tered to himself, considerably sobered by the collision.
" But what'll Betty say to my staved-in hat ? And it a
split-new yin tae ! But stop ! I have it ! I'll apply the
principles o' my ain lecture on domestic astronomy, an' tel)
her I was struck by a falling meteor. If she disna believe
it, assisted by the evidence o' her ain twa een, as exemplified
GG WILLIE WEEBRAPS DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY.
in my cut broo and my badly-damaged hat, she micht dae'fc,
that's a' I'll say."
Thus resolved, our hero stotted on, laughing up his sleeve
at the device he had so ingeniously resolved on adopting,
hoping and mentally praying for its success.
In a few minutes, rap-tap, tirr-rap ! went his knuckles on
the door, and presently his angry better-half appeared at
the door, a nicht-mutch on her head, and wrath written in
capital letters on her countenance.
" It's you, ye thochtless ne'er-do-weel ! What kin' o' con-
duct's this, Willie Weedrap ? At your auld tricks again!
•com in' harne frae your merry-meetings at twa in the mornin'
as fou's the Clyde in spate ! Eh, mercy me ! what a hat !
an' what a pair o' black een ! Whaur, in a' the earth, ha'e
ye been, sir ; tell me this vera instant ?"
" Stop ! stop ! Betty, my dear; dinna let your temper rin
■awa' wi' your judgment; it's a' richt, as richt's the mail.
Gi'e mo a moment's breathing grace, an' I'll explain the
matter wi' the speed o' a sixpenny telegram. My hat's
bash't awec, it's true, an' so is my heid [tenderly fingering
the organ of Benevolence], no' to mention my twa ' keekers.'
But I can explain a' — explain a', Betty."
" So can I, Willie. I can explain't a' tac. Ye're fou ! an'
that explains everj'thing ! "
" No, no, Betty, my dear ; as sure's ye're staunin' there, I
havena tasted twa ' half -y ins ' since I left the hoose ! (In
an aside: They were a' hale yins.) But the fact is, Betty, I
was struck on the heid the nicht wi' a meteoric stanc !"
" A meteoric stane, Willie ? "
" It's a fack's ye're there ! "
" A meteoric stane, ? "
"Ay. Betty, a falling star, ye ken. Sec, there's the evi-
dence o't ; jisfc look at the condition o' that hat; it speaks
eloquently for itscl', if no' for my theory. It's a mercy I'm
a loevin' man this minute! It was a sair whack on the
WILLIE WEEDRAP'S DOMESTIC ASTRONOMY. 67
napper I got, I can tell ye " (fingering the crown of has
head).
" A falling star, Willie, did ye say ? "
" A}-, a falling star, Betty ! Did ye no' read in the Weekly
Mail the ither day aboot a hale shoo'er o' them ? "
" I daursay I did, noo that I bethink mysel' a wee. An'
dae ye mean to stan' there, an' tell me to my face, that you
were struck on the heicl the nicht by a falling star ? "
" Faith, Betty, my dear, baith my hat an' my heid ken
that this minute. They were comin' doon as thick as hail-
stancs ; the Trongate's f u' o' them. We're passin' through
the tail o' a comet the noo, ye ken, an' that accoonts for the
phenomenon ! "
"An could ye no' put up your umbrella, Willie ?"
" That's exactly whaur I was tooken short, Betty — the
want o' an umbrella. I was storm-sted in a close at the
heid o' the Sautmarket for better than twa hours ; an' when,
thinkin' on you, Betty dear, I did at last venture oot, I was
struck doon before I had coonted twenty paces."
" Eh, me ! what's things comin' to, I w T onder ? It's surely
near the end o' the world. An' was there nae accidents
happened to life an' limb besides your ain mishap, Willie ? "
" Accidents, Betty dear ? Ay, faith, lots o' them ! The
Sautmarket's f u' o' deid policemen. Jist wait till ye see the
newspapers the morn ! "
"Eh, Willie! it's a fair mercy ye're a leevin' man this
nicht. What a pity ye didna think o' takin' an umbrella
wi' ye ; there's an auld yin below the bed there that a hale
street could hide in."
" Weel, I'll try an' mind that next November, Betty ; in
the meantime, squeeze back that damaged hat into some-
thing like Christian shape, an' syne mak' a cauld-watter
poultice for the croon o' my heid ; for the fell crack I got
on my napper this nicht is like to be the death o' me. It's
gowpen like a puddock's jump ; an' my twa blessed lugs
CS THE STAIEHEID MANAWDGE.
have been singin' ' Paddy Whack, the Piper,' ever since I
got the murderin' skelp."
" Ay, Willie, but listen awee. Meteroic stanes here, or
meteoric stanes there, the vera best cauld-watter poultice
an' protecting umbrella-cover ye can get for your heidbetween
this and the next November starry stane-battle, is jist the
the signin' o the teetotal pledge ! That umbrella protecting
ye, ye may safely whistle—' What's a' the steer, kimmer ? '
an' blavv rain,blaw snaw, ye'll then come hame as hale in baith
hat an' heid as a dooce kirk-elder returning frae a Presbytery
meeting. The meteoric theory 'ill no' haud watter, Willie ;
it let's oot at baith ends. The meteor that knocked ye doon
the nicht vas jist the wee mischief- workin' gill-stowp. It
cowp't you, as it has often cowp't mony a stronger man.
Sae, the vera best thing ye can dae, Willie, is to firmly pit
in the pin, an' laying astronomy aside, stick like glue to
the makin' an' mendin' o' cluggs."
" But think, Betty, only think for a moment on the lofty
music of the rolling spheres ! "
" The music o' the rollin' spheres ! H'm ! there's better
music in the hamely tramp o' a pair o' guid aim-shod
cluggs ony day."
" Wcel, that's at least guid, sensible domestic astronomy
onyway, Betty, if it's no science ; an' I'll no' say but ye may
be richt, after a'. Ye've gotten haud o' the best end o' the
stick onyway; for you've got, like a true woman, the last
word, an' I've got — a splittin' headache."
TEE STAIR1IEID MANAWDGE.
Every Scottish housewife of the working-class order knows
what a manawdge is ; but for the information of all and
sundry, a Stairheid Manawdge may be explained as a sort of
THE STAIR HEID MANAWDGE. 69
fireside accommodation bank, into which weekly payments
are made and which is conducted on lottery principles in the
" drawing " for the accumulated money. The manawdge may
include all the housewives in a certain tenement, or may, for
that matter of it, extend its operations so as to include a whole
district. Thus, if ten housewives agree to pay in to the
manawdge wife, say 2s. per week, that puts at her disposal
a weekly bonus of £1, which is to be drawn for by lottery —
priority in the use of the money being regarded as a stroko
of good fortune. "Contributions" and "draws" are thus
made every week, until each member of the small circle of
financial investors has been paid out in full, the transaction
repeating itself as often as the investors wish.
Mrs. Gruppy was a manawdge wife who had considerable
experience in the business. She was a sort of accepted stair-
head banker and chancellor of the local exchequer.
She was a most managing woman, Mrs. Gruppy, and
managed among other feats, to live on the profits of her
numerous little money transactions with her neighbours.
Her man had been a sodger in his youth, and had lost his left
leg at the battle of the Alma, for which mishap he was granted
a Government pension, and a widden leg. The said leg was
not much to walk with, but when its owner got drunk —
which happened every " pension day " — it evinced a vicious
propensity for kicking, as Mrs. Gruppy knew to her cost.
Fireside fechts were thus of frequent occurrence, but the
advantage was never long on the side of the sodger ; for
Mrs. Gruppy, watching her chance, would quickly bear down
point-blank on the enemy, seize and screw aff the widden leg
and hide it below the bed, or " plank " it on the highest shelf
in the house, leaving the one-legged hero to hop about the
floor like a hen on a rainy day, or to tumble into bed and
sleep aff the drink, while she was busy " rypin' his pooches "
for the melancholy remains of his pension-money.
In addition to her other transactions, Mrs. Gruppy was
70 THE STAI R II E I D 11 A XAWD G E.
reputed to sell a wee drap on the sly to drouthy housewives
especially on the Monday mornings when the manawdge was
met. But ye couldna ca 't a sheebeen. Oh, no ! It was
merely to accommodate the neebors that Mrs. Gruppy kept
a twa-gallon jar in her benmost press, and for nae other
purpose. Oli, no !
Monday mornings were the paying and " drawing " days
in Mrs. Gruppy 's assembled circle, and the scene I have to
depict relates to one of these interesting Monday mornings?
as witnessed in the manawdge wife's house.
Mrs. Gruppy 's domestic domicile was an airy one-roomed
garret, four stairs up, the last yin, like her man's left leg,
being a widden yin, which skrecht and whussle't under the
feet like disordered fiddle-strinirs.
It was ten o'clock by the ring of the little Swiss clock that
wagged industriously against the kitchen wall. Business
was in near prospect, and Mrs. Gruppy was knittin' by the
fireside, waiting with expectancy the first welcome " rap " at
the door.
Presently, a heavy step was heard ascending the top-stair,
which creaked and screamed aloud under the extra pressure
with startling distinctness.
" Eh," quoth Mrs. Gruppy to herself, " I ken fine wha's
this comin' ; it's auld Kirsty, the tripe-wife. Oh, Ijist hate
the wearisome pech o' her. She's a fair palaver o' a woman
and never weary bummin' aboot her stootness o' bod}', an'
her want o' breath. I'm fair sick o' baith her an' her
bodily troubles. But here she comes, blawin' like a blast-
furnace. Welcome, Kirsty; come awa' in; I'm rale glad
to see ye — hopin' ye're as wcel's I'd like ye to be, an' then
ye'll dae !"
" Eh, Mrs. Gruppy — (pech) — thir awfu' stairs o' yours ! —
(pech) — I declare, I 'm fair knockit clean oot o' breath — eh,
me ! — (pech). It's nae ord'nary wark to yin o' my stootness
o' body — (pech) — an' shortness o' breath, I can tell ye — eh,
THE STAIRHEID M A N A W D G E. 71
sirs-the-day ! — (pech). Is— is— is there onything in the jar..
Mrs. Gruppy ?"
" Weel, Kirsty, my woman, that's mair than I'm strictly
aware o', but I hope there's a thimblefu' left for you." And
without further waste of words, Mrs. Gruppy went over to
the cupboard and took out the jar.
" Hoo much, Kirsty, my dear ?"
" Oh, jist say a nate sixpence worth — that's a taste to the
piece o' us before the folks gather."'
" Oh, ye ken, Kirsty, lass, I dinna taste — unless wi' a
frien'."
" An' am I no' a frien', Mrs. Gruppy ?"
" I would like to ken wha wad daur to say ye wisna ! Ay,
an' a rale particular frien' tae," promptly replied Mrs.
Gruppy, pouring a portion of the spirits iuto a tea-cup, and
handing it to the tripe-wife. " Yes, Kirsty, I'll taste wi 7 .
you when I wadna consent to dae't wi' anither. Here's
your vera guid health, Kirsty, wishing the tripe-trade pros-
perity, an' yersel' every comfort !"
" The same to you, Mrs. Gruppy ; an' Iang may ye mak*
the bawbees clink. (Drinks.) Eh, me, that's refreshin' I
D'ye ken, Mrs. Gruppy, I fair thocht I wad hae lost my
heart a'thegither, comin' up thir awfu' stairs o' yours , I'm
sae plaguey stoot, ye see — although I was yince on a time jimp
enough aboot the waist, though ye maybe wadna think it."
" What ! Kirsty, is that the rale truth ye're tellin' me ?
— you thin ! "
" Ay ! me thin, Mrs. Gruppy, muckle as it surprises ye to
heart. I never grew stoot till I got married."
" That's the way wi' the maist o' us women folks, Kirsty.
But here comes auld Mrs. Toddler frae the street-fit. Giad
to see ye, Mrs. Toddler ; come awa' ben."
Mrs. Toddler sat down with a pleased smile, and was
quickly succeeded in that act by Mrs. Haiver, a talkative
body, from the stairhead below.
72 THE STAIRHEID MANAWDGE.
In a few minutes further additions were made to the
graphic circle, in the persons of Peggy Gundy, the glessie-
wife, and young Mrs. Safty, a newcomer to the tenement.
Salutations were freely exchanged, in that particularly
homely style so very characteristic of the auld-fashioned,
west-of-Scotland housewife.
By-and-hy, Mrs. Snappy, the baker's wife, came in, in a
sort o' hurry, as if she was fear't she would lose something
if she didna rin for't.
She was quickly followed by Washin'-Maggie, as she
was commonly called, who was " cleaner " in general for
the whole district, and washer-wife for Mrs. Gruppy's
manawdge-circle in particular.
Other arrivals speedily succeeded, and Mrs. Gruppy's
house before long was as ringing fu' o' clatter as a boat-
yard on the Clyde.
Mrs. Haiver, who always had a lot to say, and who
usually spoke with her eyes half shut, like one in a trance,
proceeded to assure the circle, with great gravity of voice,
that she had just "gotten her man oot to his wark that
mornin' after a twa-weeks' complicated attack o' short-time
an' naethin^ to dae." And " richt thankfu' she was," she
said, " to hae the fireside yince mair to hersel', wi a week's
full pey in prospect. It was a blessin' to be thankfu' for
baith ways."
Mrs. Snappy, the baker's charmer, next threw a bomb
among them, by prophesying a hap'ney on the loaf before
this time next month, if no three-fardins !
" A hap'ney on the loaf ! " exclaimed the whole circle in
chorus.
" Eh, me ! " said Mrs. Toddler, " what's things comin' to ?
It'll be naething for us puir women folks noo but turning
oor auld bonnets into new yins for twa years to come :
wiser-like they'd put the hap'ney on the unce o' tobacco."
" Ye're aboot richt there, Mrs. Toddler," put in Kirsty,
THE STAIRHEID MANAWDGE. 73
the tripe-wife ; " at the same time, folks are no bound to
exist on flour-bread a'thegither. The Scripters say — ' Man
shall not live by bread alone.' "
" N — no," retorted the baker's wife, who accepted the
remark as a gentle cut at loaf -bread in general and herself
in particular ; " wantin' the bit loaf, we could, of course, fa'
back on biled tripe ! "
A general laugh was the answer, and Mrs. Snappy rather
believed in her own mind that she had effectually shut-up
the tripe-wife and her Scriptural quotation as well.
' Weel, weel, leddies, there's waur than a jug o' guid
tripe," said the manawdge wife, with a mollifying laugh.
" What think you, Mrs. Safty ? "
" Me ? I think I'll need to hurry doon the stair, for I've
left my wean sleepin' in the cradle, an' if yon big Irish
bowl-wife comes rappin' to my door, she'll no leave aff till
she has the wean up."
"In that case, ye'd maybe better pey up an' draw, leddies,"
said the manawdge wife, placing her lottery-bag on the table.
The request was at once acted on. Small squares of
paper, bearing the names of each member of the circle, were
thrown promiscuously into a green cloth bag, and the bag,
having been well shaken, like a doctor's bottle, Washer-
Maggie was deputed to draw.
She consented, with a smile which connected her two
ears with her mouth, and putting her hand into the bag, she
pulled forth a piece of paper bearing the name of — Mrs.
Safty !
" Eh, me ! the lucky woman ! " sang out the whole party ;
"a paper pound in her hand, nae less ! "
"Noo, noo, Mrs. Safty," began the manawdge wife, with
persuasive manner, "ye' re no' to be rinnin' awa' as fast
ye can wi' a hale pound-note in your hand, an' an exkase
on your tongue aboot a waukrife wean in the cradle.
Ye maun be neiborlv, an' stan' a bit treat a' roond."
74 THE STAIRHEID MANAWDGE.
" Of course she will ; an' withoot coaxin' tae," put in
the baker's better-half. " It's the custom, ye ken, Mrs
Safty."
" An' ye maunna be odd, or mair stickin' than your
neibors," added the manawdge wife, producing at the same
instant the whisky jar. " Is't to be glasses roond, Mrs.
Safty?"
" Weel, I suppose sae — if that's the standin' rule," said
Mrs. Safty.
" Oh, yes ! " replied the lot in one unanimous voice.
So the twa-gallon whisky jar was brought out, and very
soon any amount of cups were clinking on the table.
" Your verra guid health, Mrs. Safty !" was thereupon the
order of the evening ; " no' forgettin' yours, Mrs. Gruppy,
an' yours, Mrs. Snappy! an' yours! — an' yours! — an'
yours!" And so on, round the merry circle the dram went,
till they had emptied the manawdge wife's whisky jar,
and drank twelve shillings' worth of simple Mrs. Safty 's
pound-note.
" That's you an' me clear," said the manawdge wife, as
she returned back Mrs. Safty her change ; " an' thank you
very much, Mrs. Safty."
Mrs. Safty took the money, and made for the door, re-
marking that she would now have " to rin," as she had to go
into " the toon " to buy a bit fresh meat for her husband's
dinner.
" A word wi' you, Mrs. Safty," said the baker's wife, " jist
one word wi' you before ye gang. Dinna ye feed up your
man wi' butcher meat ; it's no proper feedin' for a workin'
man. A plate o' ham an' eggs is needed for yoursel', but if
ye want to get the upper hand o' your man, like ither
clever hoosewives, feed him on parritch. If he kicks
at parritch, try him wi' pease-brose. They're baith fine,
cheap, economical dishes, an', ma certie, they tak' the up-
scttin' spunk oot o' the men ! "
THE STAIRIIEID M A X A W D G E. 75
Having been primed with this advice, young Mrs. Safty
was allowed to depart.
" She's a rale nice bit buddy that," remarked Mrs. Toddler.
" I maun ken her better than I dae."
" She's saf t awee," said the manawdge wife, " an' has a lot
to learn yet, puir thing. Her man can rowe her roond his
thoomb, jist like that."
" I wad alloo nae man to rowe me roond his thoomb," said
the baker's charmer.
" Nor me either," added the washer-wife ; " the women
think owre muckle o' the men, an' faur owre little o' them-
selves. I mind the day my man was carried hame to me on
a shutter, wi' a broken leg. I was wash in' that day, as usual,
when yin o' his fellow workmen said to me, wi' a frichtsome
lang face :
" ' I have a most painful duty to perform, my good woman.
Your husband '
" ' He'll be on the spree again, I suppose ? '
" ' No, my good woman, he 's '
" ' Got lockit up in jail again, I'll be bound ? '
"'No, no ; he has had the misfortune to fall from a scaffold,
and has broken his left leg.'
" ' An', confound your nonsense, what gar'd ye come here
frichtin' folks in that way, makin' a buddy think that some-
thing had happened. Bring him hame, an' tak' care that
naething fa's oot o' his pooches.' That's what I tell't them.
H'm, makin' a sang aboot naething."
"But the men-folks have sic wheedlin' ways wi' them,"
put in Mrs. Haiver ; " for instance, there's oor John " — (here
all the listeners began to cough in concert, knowing from
experience that when ones Mrs. Haiver trotted oot " oor
John," it was domino with all the others, so far as getting
in a word was concerned) — "ay, there's oor John, as I was jist
sayin' ; he has the awf u'est treacley tongue in his heid ever
ye kenn'd ; it's as sweet as sugar whiles, an' could wile the
76 THE STAIKHEID MANAWDGE.
vera bird aff the tree. I mind fine o' the nicht he popped the
question " (went on Mrs. Haiver, oblivious to the fact that
the neibors were already rising and leaving the room, one
after the other). " It was a bonnie, bonnie munelicht nicht,
an' we were baith sittm' an' sighin' on an auld cairt-wheel
before the smith's shop."
" ' Katie/ says he, wi' a love-sick sigh, an' a look on his
face as pathetic as a thrupenny finnan haddie ; ' Katie, my
dear.'
" ' What ? ' says I, quite innocent-like, never jalousin' for
one moment what the man meant.
" ' Will ye be mine ? ' an' syne he kissed me sae ten erly.
(He had been catin' a saut herrin', but that's neither here
nor there.)
" Weel, d'ye ken," resumed Mrs. Haiver, ;< I coodna in
my heart say ' No,' if I had been shot for't. An' mind ye,
I had lots o' grand offers on hand at the time. I had yin
frae worthy auld Mr. Geography, the village schulemaister.
He was in a weel-daein' way, Mr. Geography, an' cood
speak grammar as easily as I cood knit a stockin'. Mair
than that, a mate in yin o' the canal-boats was jist fair daft
for me. An' a fine braw fellow he looked, wi' his sou'-
wester an' his pilot-jacket on. But I was aye of a vera
nervous habit, an' never cood have made a canal-boatman's
wife. Oh, no. Every time I heard the win' beginning to
rise, I wad have been thinking on my puir sailor laddie
tossing on the ra^ini: main — no' to mention the danger o
his boat colliding wi' a canal-brig on dark nichts, or the
tow-rope snappin' in twa. Oh, no; I never, never wad have
dune for a sailor's wife — never ! An' then, my third lover.
He was a tailor lad — Lang Jaik-jag-the-Flae they ca'd him.
Eh, but he was a clean-limbed, soople-jointed, licht-hcarted,
cahouchie-heeled chappie, the tailor lad. He cood threid a
needle jist like that I an' as for shooin' up the legs o' a pair
o' troosers, it was fair electricity."
WEE BOBBIE BAR EFEET. 77
" Stop ! stop ! Mrs. Haiver," here put in the manawdge
wife ; " d'ye no' see the neibors have a' left you an' ' John '
baith to your pleasure ? — they're awa' doon the stairs three
minutes a^o."
" Preserve me ; so they are ! " exclaimed Mrs. Haiver,
lifting her eyes from the floor, and looking about with a
dazed expression of countenance. " Weel, I'll e'en need to
toddle like the rest. Your ta, the noo, Mrs. Gruppy ; I'm
awa' ; for if oor John comes hame an' finds me oot, an' the
fire in a similar condition, he'll gang clean distracted.
Ta-ta ! "
WEE BOBBIE BAREFEET.
Wee Bobbie Barefeet was an orphan laddie, wha lived wi'
his granny. He was a rale wee city Arab, who had a
natural genius for plunkin' the schule, havryin' birds' nests,
and raisin' slides on the pavement in the winter time.
Bobbie was just ten years of age come Martinmas, and
rejoiced in open-air freedom, and a small daily independency
acquired by selling the earliest and latest editions of the
evening newspapers.
Up till the date of our story, Bobbie had successfully
eluded anything more than a very irregular, and, what the
spectacled School Board considered, a highly informal at-
tendance at school.
Bobbie's progress at school had thus been very slow, and
he had never got beyond the plain line of reading existing in
the " High Sevenpenny." Grammar was a mysterious conun-
drum to Bobbie, and his knowledge of geography was limited
to the street in which he lived, and the alleys adjoining it.
Spelling was confusion to him ; and, in the matter of
78 WEE BOBBIE BAEEFEET.
writing he was wofully behind. As a latest effort in writ-
ing, he had done a copy-book of German text, the more
promising pages of which looked as if a half-drowned fly,
just escaped from an ink-bottle, had incontinently crawled
across the surface of the paper. Then, as for arithmetic,
figures were always a terribly trying task to Bobbie. In
fact, Bobbie had not in any way a genius for figures, al-
though, it must be admitted, he was a smart hand at count-
ing out ".change back " for a sixpence, to all such customers
as purchased an evening newspaper off his hands. Daily
practice in that matter had brought about perfection, but
as for figures on a school-slate, Bobbie always sat down to the
terrible task like a sick child making wry faces at medi-
cine. And at length when he had struggled through Simple
Addition, and graduated into the profounder mysteries of
Subtraction, he one day applied the principle at issue to
his own small case, and cleverly subtracted himself from
the grasp of a School-Board officer, who had actually caught
him playing on the pavement during school hours.
School Board officers and policemen, in fact, were the two
terrors of Bobbie's innocent life. The policeman he knew
little of by his proper name ; but he was familiar with him
as "the Nick," "the Slop," "the Scufter," and "the Bobby,"
and the glance of a policeman's buttons coming suddenly
round a street-corner, was sufficient to scatter like stour a
stiff game at the "bools," or an exciting throw-up at pitch-
and-toss, at both of which amusements Bobbie was an expe-
rienced adept.
As for the dreaded officers of the local School Board,
Bobbie simply spoke of them in the lump as the " Schule-
Board," and the cry of " The Schule-Board — there's the
Schulc-Board Man!" was sufficient at any moment to make
Bobbie leap three feet into the air, and bound away from
the spot like a young antelope.
"When the officer of the district looked Bobbie up, which
WEE BOBBIE BAKEFEET. 70
occurred almost daily for a time, Bobbie was usually out ;
and when by accident he happened to be in, he was invari-
ably out also — in the sense that the instant the dread official
voice was heard at the door, the kitchen-window, which
opened on a back court, stood Bobbie handy, and through it
he would instantly go, with the precision of a clown doing
the disappearing leap at a pantomime. The next moment
he was down the close, and flying away along the street at full
speed, to escape the clutchesof the terrible Schule-Board Man !
In this way, as may be readily understood, Bobbie's
very existence, by and by, came to be almost officially for-
gotten, when one day, while he was merrily propelling
himself along the street by a series of side-somersaults,
making his little body gyrate along the pavement like an
animated wheel, he was suddenly confronted by a spectacled
and very important-looking School-Board officer, who seized
him with a sort of official snap, as if he felt assured that he
had at length made such a clever capture as would assuredly
gain him promotion with the Board — if not, indeed, public
thanks.
The incident happened thus : Bobbie that morning had
just demolished his bowl of porridge, and having washed
his face at a street-pump, he began revolving himself along
the pavement as described, hand over hand, like a self-act-
ing wheel, singing aloud —
" A, B, buff,
Gi'e the maister a cuff;
Gi'e him yin, gi'e him twa,
Knock his heid against the wa\"
when, horror of horrors ! on recovering his equilibrium, he
found that he had unwittingly plunged right into the grasp
of the dreaded School-Board Man !
" Hillo ! my fine boy ; what school are you attending —
eh?"
80 WEE BOBBIE B AREFEET.
" Oh, it wisna me, sir ; as sure as death I wisna daein'
ony thing ; let me awa' an' I'll never say't again ! "
"Ay, ay, a very likely story; and what's your name ?
boy?"
" My name ? "
" Yes ; what do they call you ? "
" Bobbie, sir,"
" Bobbie what ? "
"N — no; it's no Bobbie What; it's jist Bobbie they ca'
me — that's a.' "
" And where do you live, boy ? "
" Roun' the corner, sir.'
" And what's your father's name, boy 1"
" M — m — my faither's name, sir ? "
"Yes, boy; what is your father's name ?"
" I never had nae faither."
" Your mother's name, then ? "
" I never had a mithcr naither."
" What ! never — had — a — mother, boy ? "
"Na; as sure's death, sir — my granny's my mithcr."
" Oh, yes, yes ; I understand your meaning, boy ; you're
what's called an orphan — is that it ? "
" An orphan, sir ? "
" Yes, an orphan laddie, of course."
" Na ; I'm a Gleska laddie."
" Tuts, tuts ! And how does your grandmother do then ? "
" She's quite wed the noo."
" Oh, nonsense, boy ; I mean what occupation does she
follow ? "
" She's— she's— she's "
" Well, yes, boy ; answer my question : she's a what ?"
" She's— she's— she's " '
" Come now, boy, answer the question : What docs your
grandmother do ? She's a what — eh ? "
"She's a — she's a — she's a caivlyman, sir."
WEE BOBBIE BAREFEET. 81
" A — a — a candyman ? — your grandmother a candyman ? "
" Ay ; for when auld Candyman Jock dee't, his widow
sell't my granny his hand-barrow, alang wi' the guidwill o'
the bisness for 9|d., payable in weekly instalments."
" Then your grandmother really wheels a candy barrow,
boy ? "
" Ay, an' she keeps awf u' guid glessie."
" Do you know who made you, boy ? "
"Made me ?" (scratching his head distractedly).
" Yes, you ; who made you ? "
" If it's my claes ye mean, my granny made them doon
for me."
" What deplorable ignorance ! " exclaimed the officer.
" Were you ever at school, boy ? "
"Ay."
" You're quite sure of that now ? "
"As sure as death, sir."
" What reading-book was you in ? "
" The ' High Sevenpenny.' "
" Can you write 1 "
" Ay."
" What length were you in writing ? "
"I gaed through ivhiips, strokes, an' big text."'
" And you can count a bit, of course ? "
" Y — y — yes, sir."
" What length in figures were you ? "
" Distraction, sir."
" Subtraction, you mean, of course ? "
" Ay, Distraction," persisted Bobbie.
"Well, Bobbie, my boy, answer me this — take one from
two, and how many's left. Now, take time and think it
well out ; take one from two, and how many's left ? "
Bobbie vigorously scratched his touzie head with both
hands, as if undergoing acute mental distress. The proposi-
tion seemed to fairly stagger him for a moment. Then his
82 LAMPLICHTEE DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR.
eyes showed a gleam of merry light, as if an idea had taken
acute inspirational possession of him. Glancing straight
ahead to see if the way was clear, he exclaimed —
" Tak' yin f rae twa, an' there's yin left, an' that's you ! "
and giving his small body a sudden, eel-like twist, he swung
himself free of the officer's grasp in a moment, and was
presently bounding away along the street at a high-rate of
speed in the direction of — freedom !
And that outwitted School-Board officer dashed madly
after him, with a word of anger on his lips, and a prophecy
in his mind that he would speedily recapture and bring to
book the long-headed little rogue ; but — he hasn't caught
him just yet !
LAMPLICHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR
Wee Davie Lamp was originally a handloom-weaver to
trade, but was latterly a lamplichter through necessity.
He wrocht the heddles and treddles as long as they sup-
ported him in a humble way, but when his earnings had
fallen as low as seven shillings and sixpence a-week, and his
morning porridge had become attenuated to the drumliness
of Clyde water, Davie very wisely concluded that it was
about time he was seeking a change of occupation.
Davie, therefore, applied for a situation as a city lamp-
lichter, at the handsome salary of twelve shillings a-week.
His application was backed by the influence of three Bailies,
live Town Councillors, thirty-six Ward Committee signa-
tures, and two hundred weight of valuable testimonials.
He got the job. A city lamplichter ! There was dignity
in the very name of it — at least, so thought Mrs. Lamp,
Davie's better-twa-thirds, who was proud to tell all her en-
LAMPLICHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR. 83
vions neighbours that " Oor Davie was nae langer a puir,
half-starved weaverty-waverty, but was now a City Lamp-
lichter, nae less ! "
" Haud yer tongue, Mrs. Lamp," said Mrs. Toddle-Bonnie
when she first heard of it ; " \e dinna mean to tell me that
your Davie's gotten on to the Toon Cooncil — eh ? "
" It's as true's ye're there, Mrs. Toddle-Bonnie," replied
Mrs. Lamp, with a proud toss of her mutch-strings.
" An' will Davie wear a cock't-hat like a' the ither Toon
Cooncil'bodies ? " further questioned Mrs. Toddle-Bonnie.
"Weel, I'll no say for the cock't-hat; but he's to get a hand-
lamp, an' a skippet bonnet wi' a red band roond it, onyway."
" Eh, me, Mrs. Lamp ! job's o' that kind gaun aboot, an'
oor Tarn gaun idle ! Is there ony mair vawcancies think
ye, Mrs. Lamp ? "
"What!— is your Tarn still gaun idle, Mrs. Toddle-
Bonnie ? "
"Ay, Mrs. Lamp, he's still gaun idle ; an', what's waur
he's got an inflammation in his twa een wi' gaun aboot
the toon lookin' for wark ! Could your Davie no pit in a
word for him at the Cooncil, think ye ? "
"Weel, I'll mention't to Davie, Mrs. Toddle-Bonnie, I" 1
mention fc to oor Davie ; but, mind ye, Tarn '11 need to be
highly recommended an' testimonified ; for it's a purehy
patronage job, an', like kissin', it maistly gangs by favour."
But if Davie's wife was well pleased with his grand new
civic appointment, Davie himself was still more so. He
was elated beyond measure, and felt quite proud of himself
when attired in his semi-official clothes, not to speak of his
lichted lamp — a shining symbol of modern enlightenment
and civilisation.
Davie's first experience was to light the stair-gases at
night, and put them out in the morning. After a necessary
apprenticeship at this preliminary job, he hoped to be pro-
moted in time to the responsible dignity of carrying a patent
84 LAMPLIGHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR.
"stick'' for lighting the street-lamps, which would obviate
the necessity of "humphing" about a ladder and a hand-
lamp, which, of course, he was required to do in the light-
ing of the stair gases.
" Meantime, however, after an approved three months'
experience of stair-gas lighting, Davie was promoted to the
onerous post of a street-lamp cleaner, with a gratifying ad-
vance of a shilling a-week.
Davie's experiences in this new phase of his career were
varied, and occasionally picturesque in the extreme. Some-
times his ladder would get " fankled " in the crowd, as he
hurried along the street. This was a common experience,
and frequently brought about quite frightful results ; for,
on such occasions, Davie, on turning round to apologise,
would instantly knock off the hats of six or eight citizens
before the astonished owners could get out of the way.
But, bad as those street-accidents were, the numerous
" fa's aff the ladder " which he suffered, were decidedly
the worst mishaps he had to endure.
Once he fell slap across a baker's " brod," £nd badly frac-
tured the man of flour beneath it. On another striking
occasion, he crushed into momentary unconsciousness a
speculative Quaker, who, on recovering his equilibrium and
his senses, said — " Friend ! I am a man of peace ; go, and
joke no more ! " While, on a third memorable occasion — ■
missing his man this time — Davie " lichtcd " on his left leg,
and permanently shortened that useful bodily member by
fully three inches.
The most extraordinary incident that befel him in this
connection, however, remains to be told.
Davie had been out as usual doing his lamp-cleaning turn,
and was just finishing his afternoon's work, when the lad-
der on which he was mounted was forcibly run into by a
local Salvationist preacher, a certain Captain Hallelujah,
the commandant of the district Salvation Army Corps.
Now the Captain happened to be mentally wrestling for
LAMPLICHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR. 85
a special " sign "just at the moment of colliding with Davie's
ladder, and as Davie fell plump across his shoulders, the
Salvationist shouted, " Hallelujah ! " and instantly hurried
off to the local Barracks, with the special " sign," in the
shape of Davie, clinging to his pious back.
Arrived at the Barracks, the Captain rushed into the hall,
and deposited Davie on the platform in sight or. the whole
audience.
Recovering his feet and suspended senses at the same in-
stant, Davie expostulated aloud, and struggled to free him-
self, but the energetic captain stuck to his man, and in few
words explained, that while coming along to the Barracks,
he had wrestled like Jacob of old for a " sio;n," and the
devil had sent him this unruly heathen. He suggested that
every member of the rank and file of the Army should fire
a salute over the culprit, and send him home converted.
" Not for Davie ! " shouted out the alarmed captive, who
imagined that he was about to be shot dead on the spot,
" not for Davie ! " and, with one splendid leap, he cleared
the platform, and escaped to the street before the Salvation
platoon had time to cover him with their spiritual rifles.
But Davie's last noteworthy experience was of a still
more comic character, and very nearly dragged him into a
complex breach of promise case.
The incident came about thus : On one of the stair-heads
in Davie's beat, lived an auld maid, named Miss Peggy Pep-
permint Draps.
Now Miss Peggy was a blooming maiden on the sunny
side of sixty, who had, of course, refused hundreds of eligible
Gffers in her day.
One night Davie met her on the stair, and by way of
courtesy he remarked —
" It's a cauld nicht this, m'em."
Miss Peggy answered that it was a "rale cauld nicht, in-
deed,' 1 and smiled on Davie with quite juicy sweetness
SO LAMPLIGHTER DAVIE'S LOVE AFFAIR.
jSIext night, when Davie's fit was heard lampin' up the
.stair, Miss Peggy opened her door, and handed him a cup
of warm tea.
Davie, agreeably surprised, drank the warm tea, and
briefly thanked her.
On the third night, however, things were brought to
an acute crisis by Miss Peggy bestowing a heart-melting
look on Davie, and saying to him —
"David, things are crowing serious between you and me.
When, oh when, is it to be ? "
" When is ivhat to be ? " said Davie.
" Oh, Davie Lamp! Davie Lamp! hoo, oh hoo, can ye thus
trifle wi' a lonely woman's feelings ? Answer -me, Davit',
if ye value yer ain peace o' mind, when is it to be ? "
" When is what to be, Miss Peggy ? "
" AVhen are we to be married ? "
" Married, be hang't ! shouted David ; " the knot was
tied wi' me twenty years since, an' I've been hangin' by the
neck an' kickin' for my life ever since !" and picking up his
ladder, Davie was at the bottom of the stair with the speed
of a sixpenny telegram.
"Oh, ye perjured, twa-faced, heartless man!" he heard
Miss Peggy cry after him, " to cairy on an innocent lassie
sae far, and you a married man ! I'll write an' tell your
wife, ye unfeelin' monster ! "
And so she did ; for yae nicht shortly after, as Davie was
sitting at the fireside, enjoying a canny blaw o' the pipe, he
received a sudden slap on the back of the head, which made
him see brilliant fireworks for the moment.
Looking round, he beheld Mrs. Lamp standing sentry
over him, w r ith a frying-pan in her right hand, and a letter
from Miss Peggy in her left.
"Wh— wh — what's the matter?" yelled the astonished
husband, " Copenhagen an' Camlachie ! what's the mcanin'
o' this ? Murder and blue-sticks ! is the woman mad ? "
TAMMAS TUORL'S FOTTYGEAPHIC EXPERIENCES. 87
" 'Od, I'll mad ye, ye heartless rascal ! makin' proposals
o ; marriage to a stairheid auld maid, an' you a twenty-year
married man! Read that! The women folks, it seems,
dinna ken ye're married ; but I'll pit my domestic mark
on ye, my line man ! "
" Feth, an' ye've dune that already," said Davie, patheti-
cally fingering the back o' his head, whereon had arisen in
the short interval a lump as big as three closely associated
duck-eggs. " The public 'ill ken I'm a married man noo wi"
a vengeance
l"
A full explanation was afterwards given and accepted,
but Davie, poor man, was not able to put on his official
skippet-bonnet next morning on account of the swelling on
the back of his head ; and he has since been forced to wear
his worset nicht-cap. So, if ye should happen to see a Gleska
lamplichter rinnin' aboot wi' a Kilmarnock cool on, that's
Davie ! He's a weel-disposed, innocent, harmless man,
Davie ; but if ye're " on for fun," and ye want him to throw
his ladder at ye, jist ye ask him—" Hoo's Miss Peggy ? an'
whan is't comin' aft"? "
That mak's a lively subject o' Davie !
TAMMAS THORL'S F OT TYGRA P II I C
EXPERIENCES.
Tammas Thorl was a working joiner to trade, and was a
sort of universal genius in his way. He was naturally
inventive and versatile, and was seldom at a loss in
rinding some loop-hole to escape from a difficulty.
He was a very extensively married man, Tammas, enjoy-
ing every day of his blessed life the sweet society of his
wife and hale fourteen of a family.
S8 TAMMAS THORL'S FOTTYGRAPHIC EXPERIENCES.
When trade was brisk, and wages were good, Tammas
got on fairly well, but a time of trade slackness was a
terrible affliction to the Thorl family.
Now, trade had been flat for some considerable time, and
at last Tammas was thrown idle. As a natural consequence
Mrs. Thorl showed temper — was, in fact, in a high state of
revolt with herself generally, and with Tammas Thorl in
particular.
" It's a black look-oot this, Tammas," she said to her
husband one morning when the last handful of meal had
gone into the family parritch-pat. " What we're to dae for
food, fire, an' clothing this winter, gudeness only kens. Oh,
that I ever flung mysel' awa' on a puir workin' joiner, wi'
a white apron on, an' his sleeves up, when I micht hae
gotten an elegant counter-lowper, wi' sixteen shillin's a-
week, nae broken time, an' a braw starched ' dickie ' on !"
Tammas was silent ; his heart was sad, and his hope, like
Lis pipe at that particular moment, was completely burned
out. What more could he do ? He had tried hard for a
job, however humble, and had failed. He had worn out his
boots, and latterly lost his " specs " looking for work, and
all to no purpose.
" You that's a genius, Tammas," continued his spouse,
"can ye no' try something or ither, nae matter what, only
leb if be — something ? "
" What wad ye suggest, Mattie ? "
" Oh, onything at a', Tammas ; poetry, for instance, — yc're
gleg at clinkin' the rhymes."
" Poetry, be hang't ! D'ye want me to get sixty days in
B^rnhill Poor's-house ? "
" Weel, then, Tammas, could ye no' become a bailie, or a
toon-cooncillor, or, say, a member o' Parliament ? There's
lots o' nice sugary tit-bits an' canny perquisites gaun wi'
the bailie jobs, I'm tell't. What's mair, the bailies are no'
subject to idle-sets, like puir workin'-men."
TAMMAS THORL'S FOTTYGRAPIIIC EXPERIENCES. 89
" A bailie — a toon-cooncillor — a member o' Parliament,"
repeated Tammas, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. " Weel,
I have maybe the genius, Mattie, but I'm fair stuck for
the want o' eddication."
" Ed-i-ca-tion ! " sneered Mattie ; " h'm ! a' that ye've got
to dae is jist to imitate the rest o' the candidates by
swallowing every kind o' electoral pill put before ye, pledgin'
yersel' to bring in hunders o' ' bills ' for the workin'-men,
an' promisin' to grow them cabbages as big as cab-wheels.
An' if ye seriously think on't, Tammas, there's Johnny
Gibb, the lath-splitter, he could be yer richt-haun'
' committee-man ; ' for last week, nae farrer back, he got a
new suit o' claes on ' tick,' an' had his hair cut by a
journeyman barber !"
"No, no, Mattie ; there's owre mony at the job already."
" "Weel, then, there's the ' Schule-brod,' Tammas ; ye'd
mak' a first-rate Schule-Brod officer; — ye've jist a heid for
a lum hat ! "
" What, Mattie ! me a Schule-Brod officer ! chasm' bare-
heided an' bare-fittit wee laddies up an' doon back wynds
an' closses ! No, no, Mattie ; not for Tammas Thorl ! "
" Weel, then, there's Bill-deliverin', Lamp-lichtin', an' Win-
dow - cleanin'; Shooin'- machine, Prudential Society, an'
Book canvassin'."
" Stop, stop, Mattie ! I have it noo. I was reading the
other day aboot Fottygraffy, an hoo to learn it. I'll set to
an' mak' a fottygraff box, an' tak' likenesses at sixpence a
heid. Bring oot my tool chest, Mattie."
" Eh, Tammas, that's jist the verra thing," agreed Mattie;
"ye've the genius, Tammas; ye've the tools; ye've the wood,
an' ye've me an' your fourteen bairns to experiment on."
So, all at once, in a sense, Tammas Thorl found himself
putting together a photographer's " box," on the most
improved principles, the sweat of honest endeavour on his
brow, and a bright hope of success in his heart.
f. s. 7
90 TAMMAS THORLS FOTTYGRAPHIC EXPERIENCES.
In three clays he had completed his preparations, and
was ready for a start in business as an amateur photo-
grapher.
Just by way of experiment, he consented to try his
prentice hand on a family group of Mattie and the bairns.
The picture was a striking success. It struck Mattie, and
the few who saw it, all of a heap. It was as black as a
sweep's face, and looked like a free sketch done on the
banks of the Congo — Mattie representing an aged negress,
surrounded by fourteen young African " hopefuls," and all
mouthed from ear to ear with sable smiles. Tammas in-
geniously blamed the mixed atmosphere of the kitchen
for the sooty complexion of the picture, and prophesied
bright success in the elevated garret he had just rented
for a month as a professional studio.
"But Tammas, my man," remarked his managing spouse,
"ye'll need to tak' a new name, if ye mean to prosecute
the art professionally. Plain Tammas Thorl, ye ken, wad
never, never, never dae."
" That's already settled, Mattie. I've jist lengthened my
name into Russian - Polish. See, there's my sign - brod,
jist this moment finished ; the pent's no dry yet (holding
up a rudely-lettered trade-sign.) Can ye read ? —
Signor Tammaski Thorlowski,
Family Fottygraffer.
KB.— Country Orders PunJaualhj Attended to.
"Hoo will that dae, Mattie? It's up to Tommy, I
think, no' sayin' owre muckle for mysel'."
"Eh, me, Tammas, that's jist rale braw," said Mrs.
Thorlowski, admiringly ; "an if ye wad only cut affyer chin-
beard, Tammas, leaving on naething but your moustache,
stiffened at baith ends wi' a lick o' caun'le grease, an'
TAMMAS THORLS FOTTYGRAPIIIC EXPERIENCES. 91
learn to speak broken English, then there's no' a man nor
woman in the toon but wad tak' ye for a rale foreigner."
" The idea's grand, Mattie. Trust me ; I can imitate the
foreigner to perfection."
In high hopes, therefore, and sanguine of success, Signer
Thorlowski at once occupied his " studio," hung out his
graphic " trade-ticket," and patiently awaited the first sign
of public favour.
But when was genius rewarded ? Hour after hour
passed wearily by, but no individual unit of the great
public outside found the way up to Signor Thorlowski's
photographic chambers.
But ah, stop ! there at last was one sensible man, sur-
veying, from the street below, his " trade-ticket " through an
eye-glass !
He was a smart young man to look at, with just the faintest
tendency to apparent " seed " in his get-up; carried a worn
umbrella under his left arm ; wore shoes rather down-at-heel,
and two sizes small ; and had on his hands the interesting
remains of a pair of yellow " kids."
After a careful scrutiny of Signor Thorlowski's picturesque
sign-board, the smart-looking young stranger disappeared
in the entry leading to the ' : studio," and presently reached
the top of the lofty staircase.
" Signor Thorlowski, I presume ? " said the smart-looking
young man, bowing most graciously.
Signor Thorlowski bowed in return.
" Do you speak English, Signor ? "
" I speak English do," returned Tammas, whose only idea
of broken English was simply a reversing of the words.
" Then, let me tell you, Signor," began this plausible young-
man, " let me tell you, that if you mean to run the photo-
graphic business successfully, you must advertise! — advertise!
— advertise ! Do you comprehend, Signor ? "
" Me comprehend very much ! " replied Tammas.
92 TAMMAS THORL'S FOTTYURAPHIC EXPERIENCES.
"Well then," resumed the smart young man, "you must
understand, Signor, that I'm local reporter and advertise
ment-lifter for the Commercial Gazette. Advertise in our
columns and I'll puff you. Will you advertise ? "
" Advertise I certainly will."
" Good ; and to what extent, Signor ? "
" Extent any ! " replied the interesting Tammas, throwing
apart his two hands expressive of the unreserved amplitude
of his advertising order.
" My fortune's made ! " said the smart young man, in a
low aside. Then turning about, he said aloud : —
" Will you kindly put yourself exclusively in my hands
in this matter ? I will draw up your advertisement, Signor ;
believe me, I have had great experience in that line."
" Put in your hands myself I exclusively will," frankly re-
plied Tammas. " Experience you have much ; experience I
have none, none ! " (shaking his head depreciatingly).
" Ah, very good ! very good ! And now, good day, Signor,
and many thanks ! Expect a newspaper puff] and a crowd
of customers at your studio door to-morrow. Good day ! "
and the smart young man effusively bowed himself out.
Next morning Tammas got a copy of the Commercial
Gazette wet from the press, and was delighted to read as
follows :
"Signor Thorlowski's New Studio. — We direct the
attention of our numerous readers to Signor Thorlowski's
advertisement in another column. This talented gentleman,
we understand, has obtained Royal recognition on the Con-
tinent, and stands at the head of the photographic profession.
The Signor's ' machine ' is new, his process patent and in-
stantaneous, and his charges are most moderate. During
his brief stay in town, he is likely to sweat daily under the
pleasing confusion of blocked doorways and endless calls
upon the exercise of his charming and unrivalled art."
" Faith," thought Tammas to himself, "Signor Thorlowski's
a big success. After a', there's something in a name. A rose
TAMMAS THORL's FOTTYGRAPHIC EXPERIENCES. 93
may smell as sweet by any other name, but no' plain Tammas
Thorl ! But, hillo ! here's my first customer ! "
The door of the " studio " was banged up, and in swaggered
a local Jack Tar, a fresh-water sailor, two-thirds liquored,
his " bunting " gaily flying, and himself bowling along
under a fresh breeze and an easy helm.
" Glad to find ye aboard, Cap'n ! (hitching up his loose
pants). I've rolled in to have my phottygraff done ; how's
the wind for the job, Cap'n — eh ? "
" Dee wind is beaut'ful ; will you please seat take ? "
" No, I want myself ' done ' aboard ship, you understand ?
climbing a for'ard rope, like — see ? " and Jack at once threw
himself into the picturesque attitude of an able-bodied
seaman hauling himself up a bowline, hand-over-hand.
Signor Thorlowski smiled consentingly.
" Stop ! steady ! one moment ! don't stir ! patent action !
instantaneous production ! there ! " and before Jack could
wink, he was instantly " photographed " in the graphic
attitude of a sailor ascending with great activity an ima-
ginary rope !
" Hillo ! " shouted Jack, when he saw the " picture " " I'm
agoin', it there, Cap'n ; I look smart and happy, eh ? I'm
a-climbin', I guess ; but — where's the rope ? "
" Ah, my good friend, dee rope's understood — dee rope's
understood."
" All right, Cap'n, all right ! It's a curiosity of art — this
is ; I'm agoin'. Good-bye ! "
"Six-pence, my dear friend; six-pence I require!" said the
Signor, extending his hand.
" For what, Cap.'n ? "
" For pay-ment."
" All right, Cap'n, all right ! the payment like the rope, is
understood." And spreading his canvas, the fresh-water tar
" lay stiff to the wind " and sailed smartly out.
The Signor was in the act of following him, when he was
94 TAMMAS TIIORL'S FOTTYGRAPIIIC EXPEIUENCES.
suddenly confronted by a second customer, in the shape of a
sun-burnt farmer, cudgel in hand, who explained that he
wanted his " fottygraph " done in oil, with the seed-apron
on, and he in the act of " sowin' the ground."
" Delightful ! " exclaimed the Signor, " I shall be very
much happy, indeed ! Will you please seat take ? '
In two seconds the worthy farmer had laid aside both
his cudgel and his coat, assumed the seedman's " apron,"
and was busy waving his hand backwards and forwards as
if in the act of sowing the seed in an imaginary field.
" Can ye tak' my han' gaun that way ? " asked the subject.
" I am Signor Thorlowski ! " was the sufficient reply.
" Steady ! a regular sweep of dee arm ; there ! " and, presto,
the Signor disappeared, and almost instantly returned
with the negative.
The " picture " was a screamer ; it looked like a man in
his .shirt sleeves, with six hands !
Immediately the farmer saw it, he hitched on his coat,
picked up his cudgel, and went for the astonished Signor,
who vanished down stairs like a telegram, closely pursued
by the enraged customer.
Gaining the street, the ingenious Signor dodged up and
<lown several streets, and cleverly eluding his pursuer,
he returned to his " studio " by a back court.
Reaching his room, he found a third customer awaiting
his return, in the shape of a stout " lodging-house " wife, of
some fifty fat summers.
" Are ye the fottygrapher ? " was the new customer's reply
to the Signor 's gracious bow.
" Yes, ma — dame, I am that highly-sookccssful man, at
your pleas — ure."
" Can ye ' draw ' me weel na ? for the pictur's for my
' intended,' wha'll prove my fifth man."
" I promise you I will sat — is — fy your five husband very
much. I have just returned from being ' treated ' by a de-
TAMMAS THORL'S FOTTYGRAPHIC EXPERIENCES. 95
lighted custom — er. He was in great rap — ture about his
' picture,' he was ! "
" Ye're a' oot o' breath ; ye've been rinnin' ? "
" He was pursuing me with his hospitality, that cus-
tomer ! but I don't drink ; no, no ! I don't drink ! "
" Weel, tak' me quick, for I'm in a bleezin' hurry ! "
" In wan min — ute ! steady ! there ! " and, like magic, the
nimble Signor had placed the ' picture ' in the hands of his
stout customer.
The photograpli looked like a cart of coals emptied over a
chair !
An agonised yell, and the enterprising Signor's fat cus-
tomer had collapsed on the floor.
" Faith ! " thought the Signor, after he had succeeded in
resuscitating his collapsed patron, " I've auced the foreign
fottygrapher lang enough. It's no' gaun to turn oot a pay-
ing spec, I see. I'll drap the hale business, an' become plain
Tammas Thorl yince mair."
That same afternoon Tammas shut up his " studio," and
returned home to the bosom of his family and — starvation !
The joke, however, did not end there ; for next morning,
Tammas was horrified to read the following paragraph in
the Commercial Gazette :
" A Mad Photographer. — An escaped lunatic, calling
himself Signor Tammaski Thorlowski, is under warrant of
arrest on a charge of causing the death of a lady-customer,
■who fainted through fright on seeing her own " likeness," as
done by the mad Signor. The photograph was upside down
and looked like a heap of roadside metal. In the course of
the same day, our local reporter has learned, this same
lunatic photograper took a sailor's photo, which was mis-
taken for a chimpanzee climbing a tree for a cocoa-nut !
The ingenious signor also took a west - country farmer
in the act of seeding the soil : the farmer came out with
six hands, and a face like a Chinese-Peruvian. Last week
we announced the escape from custody of an inmate of Gart-
navel Lunatic Asylum. We seriously ask the local authorities
96 THE sittin'-doon cauld.
to connect the escape of that patient with the lunatic ap-
pearance of Signor Tammaski Thorlowski, and to have the
madman securely housed again. Signor Thorlowski's patent
flip-flap, instantaneous, no-preparation, self-acting photo-
graphic box is a gross fraud, like its mad inventor, whose
disordered head wants instant shaving by a local barber."
" Great Jerusalem ! " exclaimed Tammas, dropping the
paper with nervous trembling. " It's a mercy, Mattie, that
I happened to adopt a foreign name. Henceforth, and for
ever, I'm plain Tammas Thorl, an' nae ither body ; for it's
safer, I see, to starve as a joiner, than to fatten as a f otty-
graffer. But, let me catch that smart reporter ! He may
be a clever han' at liftin' advertisements, but I'll show him
hoo to lift a rascal a kick ! "
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD.
Douce-gaun, quate-tongued, and canny-minded Wattie
Wabster drew cotton thread through a handloom, in the
Gorbals of Glasgow, some twenty-five years ago.
Now Wattie, who was on the wrong side of fifty, had
been an abstainer in practice, if not in professed principle,
for a quarter of a century. He had never been blessed with
a family ; and for want of occupation of a more pronounced
domestic nature, had for many years occupied his leisure
hours with books, and the study of elocution, economising
his talents in that way by making an occasional appearance
as a local Hamlet in the amateur theatricals of some of the
outlying suburbs, such as Strathbungo and Camlachie.
Now Wattie, poor man, had been suffering from a chronic
cold in the head for a whole month back, and had exhausted
a full score of homely cures on the head of his " sittin'-doon
cauld," rather than trust himself to the tender mercies and
expenses of doctor's drugs.
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAUL D. 97
" Toots ! " Wattie would say, when remonstrated with for
his persevering obstinacy, " I wadna gi'e ae wag o' my auld
granny's mutch-strings owre my trouble — if she was only
to the fore, daicent body ! — for a' the M.D.'s between this
and far enough ; deed no ! "
So Wattie stuck by hame-poulticing, and his sittin'-doon
cauld stuck by him, and things went on in this unsatisfac-
tory way until Mattie says to him one day —
" Noo, guidman, I'll tell ye what ye'll dae. Your voice,
ye ken, is sunken awa' doon to a kirk-yaird hearseness,
your nose is rinnin' like a burn, an' your twa een are as red
as collops, sae ye'll tak' and try for the last time a perscrip-
shun was gi'en me the day by Mrs. flowdie, the auld-wife
medical, wha leeves owre by at the burn-side, an' she warrants
me ye'll be as hale's hersel' the morn's mornin'. Sae ye'll
dae't, Wattie, an' get that unco plaguey cauld lifted oot o'
ye ; for ye've been naething but a crunkle't an' yisless auld
man ever since it settled doon on ye, an' that wasna yes-
terday, atvveel."
" What's the nature o' the cure, Mattie ? " quo' Wattie,
looking up inquiringly.
" Ye'll get a yaird or twa o' new flannel row't roun' your
heid, six or eicht pairs o' auld stockins drawn on ilka foot,
hauf-a-dizzen o' woollen grauvits row'd roun' your throat ;
and then ye'll super-add to that my ain auld marriage-
plaid tied roun' your shouthers ; then ye'll next "
" Mattie ! " quo' Wattie, in a tone of expostulation.
" Then ye'll next swallow a pint o' XXX porter, warm,
wi' a gill o' Irish whisky mixed up wi't, alang wi' "
" Mattie ! Mattie ! " again broke in the amazed patient.
" Alang wi' a guid bit sprinklin' o' cayenne pepper
to mak' it ream," continued Mattie ; an' then, guidman, ye'll
cannily say the Lord's Prayer, an' tummle into bed."
"Mattie' Mattie! Mattie!" interposed Wattie, for the
third time ; " feth, lass, an' I wad ha'e richt muckle need
98 THE SITTIN'-DOON CAUL D.
to say the Lord's Prayer, an' repeat the Psalms o' Dauvifc
into the bargain, to face a cure o' siccan stupendous pro-
portions ! "
" It's a desperate case, Wattie, and needs a desperate cure.
The trouble maun be swat oot o' ye, guidman, at ony cost,
and if Mrs. Howdie's perscripshun disna sort ye, there's
witchcraft in't, an' we'll be forced, as a last shift, to heeze
3 T e owre the kirk-steeple ; draw ye three times under a cud-
die's belly ; or get ye to eat a roastit moose, to charm the
wearifu' cauld oot o' ye."
" Aweel," quo' "Wattie, resignedly, " if it maun be, I sup-
pose it maun jist be. But ye ken, Mattie, I dinna meddle
wi' the dram, an' I'm no certain hoo the cure wad particu-
larly affeck me," and Wattie dubiously shook his head as if
he was morally suspicious of the porter and pepper both,
not to speak of the added whisky.
" The cure'll work a' the better o' that, guidman, tak' ye
nae fear, an' the morn's mornin' 'ill see ye a new man."
So the " cure " it was agreed, was to be at once acted upon,
and Mattie immediately proceeded to envelope Wattie in a
triple and quadruple proof-plaiting of woollen hose, soft
flannel, and picturesque plaiding, which martyrdom he
withstood as became a man, a Christian, and — a weaver !
Then the XXX stout was brought in, the cayenne pepper
and the Irish whisky added, a handful of sugar thrown in,
and then Wattie heroically swallowed the contents of the
chappin bowl, and immediately thereafter warstled into bed
with an ill-suppressed groan, and a feeling that he had been
fairly done for by Mattie.
Immediately Wattie, douce man, had got into bed, Mattie,
kind woman, began to pile fresh blankets and bed-coverlets
over him, and to super-add to that anything and every-
thing she could lay hands on in the shape of bed-covers,
petticoats, short-gowns, top-coats, and general drapery.
"Oh, Mattie, Mattie!" groaned poor Wattie, his Hushed
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD. 90
nose being alone visible through a chink in the enormous
pile of bed-clothes.
" What's the maitter, Wattie, dear ? "
" The maitter, Mattie ! Ye've surely put Ben-Lomond on
the tap o' me ; I'm fair bilin' wi' sweat ! "
" Patience, Wattie ! ha'e patience for a wee. Thanks to
Mrs. Howdie, the cure's workin' grand," answered Mattie,
throwing over him, by way of an addendum to her remarks,
an extra half-dozen old coats and petticoats.
" Deil tak' Mrs. Howdie, an' her East Indian cure baith !
Dinna pit ony mair coats on me, Mattie, for goodness sake,
or ye'll destroy me a'thegither. There's forty-five pund o'
steam on every square inch o' the blankets already, an' if
ye dinna act wi' caution there'll be an explosion, an' I'll
be blawn ayont the mune, like the witches in Macbeth,
before the morn's mornin'."
The bowl of mixed liquors which Mattie had induced her
guidman to swallow was clearly beginning to act, and Wattie
was fast becoming imaginative and poetical.
" Lie still, Wattie, dear ! lie still ! " said Mattie, in a per-
suasive tone of voice, emptying over him a last basketful
of discarded clothing. " Lie still, an' sleep ! "
There was silence for a few minutes, and then, spoken in
a low, melancholy, impressive, and deeply tragic voice, these
words were heard issuing from underneath the piled-up
blankets : —
" Sleep, gentle sleep, how have I frighted thee ;
That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in f orgetf ulness ! "
" Dod, he's awa' wi't noo," quo' Mattie to herself, as she
cocked her ears to Wattie's slumberous soliloquy.
Presently the voice of Wattie was again heard issuing
from under the bed-clothes, this time in a subdued and per-
suasive undertone : —
100 THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD
" How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank !
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Look, Jessica : see how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
There's not the smallest orb which thou beholdest,
But in its motion like an angel sings ;
Such harmony is in immortal souls."
At the name " Jessica," Mattie visibly started.
" Wha was Jessica ? " she mentally queried, with an
offended cast o' her dangling " mutch " strings, " I won'er
if the daft auld fule is dreamin' o' some fair ' flame ' o' his
young days. Dod, it's true, I see, what the auld proverb
says — when the dram's in, the wit's oot; Oh,Wattie,Wattie!"
and lifting a portion of the mixed mass of coverlets that
enswathed him, she stared severely at poor Wattie, and
suspiciously shook her head.
But Wattie was fast becoming unconscious to his every-
day surroundings. He had mounted his dramatic Pegasus,
and in fancy was bounding brilliantly through the star-
roofed realms of Action. His eyes were full of supernatural
light, and fixing a withering look upon Mattie, he ex-
claimed —
" Take, oh take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes — the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn."
" The man's fairly by himsel'," ejaculated the astonished
Mattie.
Presently there was a moment's quietude, and then,
suddenly, and without warning, the superincumbent mass
of bedclothes heaved up like an active volcano, and Wattie,
his eyes flashing fire, and the perspiration thickly beaded
on his brow, sat bolt upright in the bed, and cried aloud
with decn intonation, and melo-dramatic gesture —
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD. 101
" Give me another horse — bind up my wounds !
Oh coward conscience, how thou dost afflict me ;
The lights burn blue — it now is dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear ? — myself ?
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse !"
" Mercy me ! " exclaimed Mattie, with both hands spread
above her head in astonishment, " the puir man's clean daft,"
and the next moment Wattie verified the statement by
taking a terrific leap across the table fronting the bed, right
out to the centre of the floor.
Catching up the poker, he flourished it above his head,
exclaiming —
" Let Rome in Tiber melt ! and the wide arch
Of the rang'd Empire fall ! Here is my space ;
On this firm spot unmov'd I stand — or fall ! "
" Clean gone ! " screamed Mattie, clasping her hands to-
gether, "as daft's the Barber o' Dunse!" and the next
moment, noticing Wattie fixing his glowing eyes on her,
she ran for the stairhead, to seek the shelter of the house
next door.
Mattie, simple woman, never dreamt for a moment that
the " chappin' bowl o' liquor " had taken the goodman's
head. She had never seen Wattie the " waur o' drink," had
never, in fact, seen him in such a state of ecstasy before,
and wrongly guessed that the fever had mounted to his
brain, and that there was " naething for puir Wattie noo
but the hospital an' a shaved heid."
But if Mattie was justly alarmed at the sudden turn in
her husband's condition, the neighbours, on hearing her
flurried and disconnected story, were with reason more so.
She had neither nerve nor time to particularise the nature
of the cure which she had prescribed to Wattie an hour
before. Therefore the whole stairhead, justly alarmed, and
curious to know the extent of the danger, turned out in
102 THE sittin'-doon cauld.
force, and advanced into the presence of the disordered
weaver in a collective group.
The sicrht which met their eves on entering was ludicrous
in the extreme, and, despite the insane condition of the
dramatic weaver, produced roars of laughter. From his
head depended a yard of flannel, like the jaunty flap
characteristic of the slashed hat of a pirate. Over his feet
and legs were drawn an uncounted number of pairs of
stockings, which gave his " understandings " the appearance
of being very far gone in a dropsy. Across his shoulders
Mattie's " marriage plyde " was artistically thrown — while
his own shirt-tails did duty for a starved-looking kilt. In
his right hand he flourished the kitchen poker, handling it
much in the style of a General's sword, His eyes were
dilated and fixed on vacancv. Starting back on seeing the
turned-out stairhead enter the house, Wattie extended the
poker towards them, exclaiming —
"Look where they come ! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine them to that sweet sleep,
Which they own'd yesterday."
" Puir auld Wattie ! " said a commiserative neighbour.
" Bin for the pollis," responded a thin acid voice.
"Get him coaxed into bed," suggested a third party.
Jack Seam, a tailor, who lived on the stairhead, and a
thin little apology for a man, made bold to step out from the
rest, and thought to overawe the demented wabster by com-
bining a gallant bearing with an assumed show of authority.
" Walter Wabster," he began, speaking in as deep a tone
of voice as his diminutive form would allow, "I conjure
thee to lay aside that misused bludgeon, and to re-assuino
thy suspended rationality," and the little tailor made a stout
show of advancing upon him.
" .Another step," exclaimed Wattie, "and I shall run thee
through ! Caitiff, depart ! "
THE SITTIN'-DOOX CAULD. 10'
" Tak' care o' yer skin ye adventurous buddy ! " said some
one, " if Wattie kaimes yer heid wi' that poker, ye'll claw
whaur it's no yuckie for lang an' mony a day."
" L; y down these arms ! " continued the valiant Knight of
the K eedle, stretching himself upwards to his full height,
which was less than moderate.
" W ithdraw ! withdraw ! " retorted Wattie ; —
" A thousand hearts are great within my bosom,
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ;
Our ancient word of courage — fair St. George ! —
Inspires us with the spleen of fiery dragons :
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms ! "
Saying which, Wattie flourished aloft his domestic bludgeon,
and rushed upon his foes.
Instantly there was a general stampede. The crowd of
alarmed neighbours made for their several places of abode,
and the last animated object noticed was the retreating form
of the tailor, whose heels were seen to play like forked
lightning in their flying passage down stairs.
" Now are our brows' bound with victorious wreaths,
Grim-visag'd War Has smooth'd his wrinkl'd front,"
triumphantly exclaimed Wattie, as he proudly surveyed the
deserted stairhead.
Wattie, however, despite his intellectual transmutation to
a higher sphere, was not physically beyond frost-bite, and
the stairhead being cold and draughty, and his kilts pain-
fully short, he prudently returned to the shelter and warmth
of the kitchen-fire. Whether or not he saw the immemorial
" faces in the fire " patent to midnight reveries, is not given
to say, but he sat there for some time, unmolested and serene,
complimenting himself on his brilliant victory in the choicest
of Shakesperian quotations.
As for Mattie, poor body, she had meanwhile run over to
acquaint Mrs. Howdie with the result of the " cure," and as
104? THE sittin'-doon cauld.
the distance was a good Scotch mile, she had not yet re-
turned.
By and by, when the melo-dramatic wabster had exhausted
Shakespeare and himself both, 'he dozed over into a quiet
sleep. The terrible poker had all but dropped from his
nerveless grasp, and he was just on the point of completing
a third deliberate snore, when a pair of rough hands were
laid on his shoulders, and starting up, he found himself con-
fronted by two Highland policemen, who each made a
seizure of him.
"'What ho! Without there! Unhand me, villains!'"
exclaimed Wattie, making an abortive effort to shake him-
self free.
" She's fou," said No. 188 policeman.
"As fou's ta Clyde," responded No. 199, taking at the
same time the poker from Wattie by sheer force.
Full of heroism, Wattie at once sprang to his feet, ex-
claiming —
" Give me my sword, put on my glorious crown,
I have immortal longings in me.
Now, now, no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist my lips.
Softly, good friends ; release me where I stand ! "
" Hooch !" exclaimed No. 188 policeman, glancing sarcas-
tically at bewildered Wattie's shoulder-plaid and kilt, " she'll
pe gaun to act ta pold Rob Hoy an' sign ta teetotal all at
wance an' ta same time. Come awa' to ta office, Shakes-
peare ! " and the two officials made a move towards the
door.
Simultaneously with the appearance of the two police-
men, the alarmed neighbours, upon whom Wattie had made
his brilliant charge, had one by one returned to the stair-
head, where much interested discussion took place over his
capture and excited mental condition; and as none of the
neighbours, in the absence of Mattie, knew anything of the
THE SITTIN'-DOON CAULD. 105
trueca : Watties temporary derangement, the constables
e at a loss bow to act. Some insisted on Lis instant
removal to prison, or an asylum ; whilst others sensibly de-
' '. be put once more to bed.
Whil -.' i gs i -emained in this way, llattie, accompanied
-Irs. Howdie, rushed in upon the scene.
• ] exclaimed llattie, when she beheld the two
policemen ; " what s happened at a' ? — wha's murdered ? —
what stroke o' mischief ha'e ye committed,
A chorus of voices replied to Mattie's question in a
jen different ways ; but above the din of argument and
deep-toned, tragic voice of the disordered
s heard in appeal —
"I have done nought,
within me hath been so at war.
And thus hath so bestirr'd me in my sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon my brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream.
And in my head strange notions have appear 'd,
trenches, tents, frontiers, and parapets,
: cannon, culveriu, of soldiers slain.
And all the currents of a heady fight :
Thus, thus, good friends, if I have sinn'd in aught,
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be."'
"Lowse yet ban's affmy guidman this moment, ye ill-set
ds," broke in Mattie, in an excited tone of voice, catching
up at the same instant a hearth-brush wherewith to enforce
her command.
- Grup the angry auld wife, Donal, an' 1*11 baud on b}'
Hamlet s id policeman No. 18S. " Tak' the proom frae
There's craftwitch in her e'e."
"When Dougal said "craftwitch,'* he probably meant witch-
craft, and as he happened to be looking over his left shoul-
. b sj :ke, that fact may partly account for the
. :>f the syl I les.
F. S. S
106 THE SITTIN'-DOON C A U L D.
Policeman No. 199 gallantly went for Mattie, and Mattie,
with the courage of her convictions, threw herself into posi-
tion, and stoutly defended herself behind a chair.
" Give me my sword ! Put on my warrior crown ! "
again exclaimed Wattie, on seeing his wife in danger, the ex-
citement brinsdnsf on a return of his disorder.
"Stop 1 stop! for guidness sake, let me explain maitters!"
exclaimed Mrs. Howclie, and thereupon she proceeded to
inform the company as to the nature of Wattie's trouble —
* A sair sittin'-doon cauld that wadna lift ; how Mattie had
come to her for advice ; the ' cure ' that had been recom-
mended and tried ; and this — the misguided result."
" An what aboot Shakespeare, then ? " asked policeman
No. 188, pointing significantly to Wattie, the stairhead
tragedian.
" Pit the puir excited man into his bed, and let him sweat
oot the trouble under the blankets," said Mrs. Howdie.
"Ring down the curtain ! Hark ! the prompter's bell,"
added Wattie, with his eyes romantically turned upwards
to the ceilimr. And to this alternative the two constables
agreed.
" Han'le him gently, then," said Mattie, and in two
minutes more Wattie was carefully deposited under
the bed-clothes, with the Shakespearian steam pretty well
blown off his bewildered brain.
On the rctiral of the company, the last incident witnessed
was Wattie magnificently waving his hand to them by way
of adieu —
" And now, good friends, a long and last farewell."
So, Mrs. Howdie sat doon by Wattie's bedside, and assisted
Mattie to sweat the " dour cauld oot o' him." This task they
finally accomplished by the " breck o' daylicht," the method
raisin' his mother-in-law. 107
of cure being simply a persistent repetition of the hard
sweating process.
Then, when the cure had done its work, and Wattie had
sunk at last into the silence of exhaustion, his memory of
Shakespeare completely defeated and used up, did the sweet
influence of sleep, gentle sleep — the blessing of which he
had so feelingly invoked in the earlier stage of his disorder
— descend upon his troubled senses, smoothing the "wrinkled
front of war" within him, and leading his Thespian charger
into the peaceful stable.
Next morning, when Wattie had recovered his lost senses,
he looked about him inquiringly, and finding Mattie to be
alone, he made a signal for " the len' o' her lug a moment,"
and cautiously whispered —
" Mattie, what ha'e ye made o' Mrs. Howdie ? "
" She gaed hame wi' the first breck o' licht," replied Mattie
" an' ye may thank her skill an' patience that ye're in the
land o' the leevin' this day. She han'ult ye like a licensed
doctor."
" Maybe ay, an' maybe yes," quo' Wattie, with a dubious-
head-shake. " Nae doot she's a won'erfu' woman, Mrs. How-
die ; but Mattie, I'll tell ye a deid secret — the cure was waur
than the disease ! "
RAISIN' HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW.
Tam Frew was a journeyman corkcutter in the Sautmarket
of Glasgow, half-a-century ago.
He was a gey " wide " chap, Tam, and was strongly-
attached to what he termed " the Auld Kirk o' Scotland,"'
which, in Queen's English, meant a stiff dram.
Indeed, so very fond was Tam of " turnin' up his pinkie,"
that he latterly lost both his credit and character, surren-
108 HAISIN' II is mother-in-law.
derino- himself very much to the blandishments of idleness
and street-corner " loafing."
Tarn's faithful better-half, who was a mill-lass before
marriage, rebelled in vain against her husband's frequent
idle-sets as often as they occurred, and which generally
consumed about three weeks of every calendar month.
Tarn always frankly admitted his fault, expressing un-
limited contrition and repentance, and promising amend-
ment for the future — a future which never came. To make
ends meet, Tarn's young wife was thus forced to return to
her former occupation as a steam-loom weaver, while Tarn,
the muckle ne'er-do-weel, habitually ate the bread of idle-
ness, and hung aimlessly about the street-corners, an inter-
esting specimen of the " man who can't get work."
Things drifted on in this purposeless way for better than
a year after Tarn's marriage, and would have gone on for
lono- enough, but for the vigorous interference of his
spirited mother-in-law, who had a genuine interest in her
daughter, and who, according to Tarn's version, had a tongue
like the "toon-bells," and a temper like ten ordinary
women.
Anyhow, it was clear that Tarn's mother-in-law was " an
able yin," and proved herself the perfect " bubbly-jock " of
her worthless son-in-law's idle existence. She faced-up to
him in season and out of season ; she covered him with
ridicule ; she showed him her nails ; and on one extreme
occasion she took him so severely to task that he was fain
to cry for quarter, and had to finally fly the premises !
" Talk about legal separations," quoth Tarn to himself,
when he had gained the safety of the open street, " we've
but sma' need for lawyers, an' legal deeds o' separation, as
lang's we enjoy the great blessing o' a beloved mother-in-
law ! As for what's at the back o' that, an a' the rest o't,
let us pray ! "
Tarn having been thus thrown upon his own resources,
raisin' his mother-in-law. 100
very soon found himself in sore straits, and was fain before
long to turn his thriftless hands to any odd jobs that chance
might throw in his way.
It was the terrible " resurrection times ' in Glasgow, the
recollection of which is still referred to with feelings of hor-
ror by elderly people. Comedy, however, is proverbially
mixed up with tragedy in the drama of human life, and
the story I have to tell belongs to the humorous side of
things.
Well, to resume, Tarn was standing one day at the fit o'
the Can'leriggs, within an easy bow-shot of the gate of the
old Ramshorn Churchyard. He had been idle as usual for
a short time — about seventeen weeks only !— and was in a
bad way financially, and, indeed, in every other way. His
waistcoat hung frightfully loose on his empty stomach, and
his throat was fair cracking with drouth. In point of fact,
Tarn was just clean desperate, and was ready to undertake
any sort of job which might turn him in a penny.
' Hillo ! Tam, ye're the vera man I'm wantin' to see," said
Johnny Treddles, an oot o' work Radical weaver ; " can ye
tak' a share in a risky, but guid-peying job ? "
" A guid-peying job, Johnny ; man, that's what I'm fair
deein' for the want o' ; can ye put me in the way o't ? "
" Can ye keep a secret, Tam ? "
" Brawly, Johnny, brawly,— if I'm in the pie, ye ken."
" That's jist what I'm after, Tam— a trusty confederate.
Lend me your lug a moment, Tam."
Tam freely inclined his " lug " towards Treddles, who
whispered a few startling words in his ear.
" What ! lift a cleid body, Johnny ? "
" An' what for no ? The money's white the moment
the job's dune."
' Weel, that's certainly a temptation, Johnny, but what
aboot the risk ? "
" Oo, Tam, as for that, we'll jist tak' the risk as it chances
110 raisin' his mother-in-law.
to turn oot ; it's but a triflin' concern that. Arc ye on for
a share in the job ? "
" I'm your man, Johnny ; a starving stomach canna afford
to stan' lang on ceremony."
" That's richt, Tarn ; leave it there '." and the two friends
-mutually shook hands over the bargain.
At a late hour that same night, Tarn met by appoint-
ment his friend Treddles in the back-room of an attic
apartment, occupying the gable-corner of a dilapidated
apartment situated in College Street, where, for an hour
before, a couple of strong-boclied Irish labourers had been
anxiously awaiting their arrival.
Here the immediate business of the night was discussed
with whispered words and bated breath, lest any of the
numerous chinks in the walls, or in the decayed floorage of
the room, should reveal the secret of their unlawful
purpose.
The town-clocks were heard to proclaim the hour of
twelve before the four "resurrectionists" thought it
prudent to stir from their dilapidated domicile ; but with
the stroke of " one " they found themselves scaling the low
back wall of the old Ramshorn Kirkyard, carrying spades,
a, dark lantern, and a large coarse pock in which to
steal away the lifted body.
With hushed footsteps they furtively crossed the inter-
vening space, and were presently standing around a newly-
formed grave.
" What sort o' body is't, Johnny ? " anxiously enquired
Tarn, feeling nervous a bit at thought of the ghastly job in
hand ; " is't man, woman, or child we're gaun to lift ? "
" Oh, it's a woman, Tarn ; only a woman ! Here, man,
see, tak' a 'pull' at that before ye tak' spade in hand."
And Treddles handed his nervous associate a half-mutchkin
bottle of spirits.
" Is — is — is the ' watch ' set a' richt, Johnny, was ye
raisin' his mother-in-law. Ill
sayin' ? " once more questioned Tain, as he handed back
Treddles the half-mutchkin bottle.
"Paddy M'Rory's ahint the dyke," promptly answered
Treddles.
" Ye're quite sure o' that, Johnny ? "
"It canna possibly be otherwise, Tam, if there's ony
truth in arithmetic ; Barney Rooney here mak's the third
man o' the original fowr o' us. Let's fa' to."
Delay they each knew was dangerous, and with one
accord the three resurrectionists applied themselves, pick
and spade, to the grim task in hand.
In a few moments they had cleared a foot of earth, and
were just beginning to warm to their work, when an eerie
cry, as of some ghostly night-bird, startled them, down to
the length of their boots.
"What's that?" gasped out Tam, dropping the spade
with fright.
" What's what t " asked Treddles, resting on his pick.
"What's which V added Rooney, the Irishman.
"It's jist— naething!" said Treddles, with re-assuring
voice, resuming suspended operations; "stick in, chaps,
we're already mair than half-way doon; the grave's but
shallow, an' the warst o't's owre."
In a few minutes Rooney 's spade had touched the coffin-
lid, and anxiety reached a climax.
"Get the pock shaken oot an' ready, Tam," said
Treddles ; " we'll prise the lid open in a jiffey."
Tam did as directed, feeling a kind of cold shivery sweat
creeping down his back as he watched his associates apply-
ing their spades to lever open the coffin-lid.
" There na, that's it ; fine, man ! " exclaimed Treddles, a
moment after, as Rooney wrenched off the lid ; " a splendid
corp ! tak' care o't, Rooney ; the pock, Tam, the pock ! come
doon, man, an' gie's a bit lift in wi't."
Tam jumped into the shallow cutting, and began to lend
112 W II A RULES THE HOOSE?
a hand in " bagging " the resurrected bod\ T , when, all of a
sudden, a gleam of moonlight clearly revealed the identity
of the corpse to his startled eyes.
With a yell of horror, Tarn dropped the body, shouting
aloud
" Stop ! stop ! put her back, for goodness sake ! I — I — I
wouldn't unearth that woman for a thousand worlds!"
" What's the matter, Tam ? is't your sister ?"
" Waur than that, Johnny."
" Your wife, then ? "
" Waur than that — waur than even that, Johnny."
" Och sure, then, it must be the devil!" exclaimed
Rooney, the Irishman, with a laugh.
" The devil couldna baud a can'le to her," yelled Tam ;
" put her back ! put her back ! keep her down, for good-
ness sake ! She's -"
" Who ? speak ! quick ! out with it ! who is she ?"
" My blessed mother-in-law ! ! ! "
WIIA RULES THE IIOOSE ?
Watty Wilson was a turkey-red dyer wha lived at number
9 Nettlesome Lane, in the East End o' Gleska. He stood
just five feet and half an inch in his stockings. Being
small in stature, he was, by way of compensating reversion,
large of mind, and following up his ambitious instincts, ho
had married Jean Jamieson, the biggest wife-body in the
district.
Jean Jamieson was a winder in Bartholomew's Mill
when Watty yae nicht popped the question, and brocht his
bird doon.
Jean stood a foot above him in point of stature, and
WHA RULES THE IFOOSE? 113
after marriage towered ever so inony feet above him in the
matter of domestic precedence — a condition of things that
Watty did not at all relish, and against which he kicked
in vain.
In the extremity of their domestic differences they flung
epithets the reverse of complimentary at one another,
which was amusing to their neighbours, if exasperating to
themselves.
Watty, thrust into a corner by his better twa-thirds,
would cry out, by way of ridiculing her great size —
" Six feet ! Big six feet ! " Whereat Jean would retal-
iate with —
" Five feet ! Wee five feet ! "
This contemptible thrust never failed to rouse Watty's
anger ; and stung into hot reprisal, he w T ould next sing
out —
" Elephant ! Muckle elephant ! "
Jean following up with —
" Midge ! wee midoie ! "
And so on, the domestic duel would proceed, Watty
invariably coming off second best.
Thus far, and we proceed — the locality of our story
changing to the back room of a Glasgow " public."
"Weel, Watty," one day said Bachelor John, a carpet
weaver in a neighbouring factory ; " an' hoo's a' wi' ye the
nicht ? Ye look a thocht dowff, dae ye no ? "
" Dowff! H'm, it's a wonder I'm leevin'."
" What's gaen wrang, Watty ? Is the wife badly, or
what ? "
" Badly, by Jing ! I wish I saw her cauld and streekit ! "
" Oh, Watty, Watty !" reproachfully exclaimed Bachelor
John, lifting up his hands like a parish minister about to
pronounce the benediction.
" Ay ! — oh, Watty, Watty ! " sarcastically retorted the
forlorn husband, " but set ye on a hot domestic gridiron, as
Ill' W U A RULES THE HOOSE?
I am, and tell mo if ye'd dae ocht but dance ? Oh, Watty,
Watty, indeed ! If I had been as lang-heided a loon as ye
are, Johnny, and never looked near the weemen-folks, it wad
ha'e been muckle to my comfort this day."
" Eh, man, Watty, it's the auld story owre again, I see —
blighted love ! I'm rale vexed for ye, Watty. Can I dae
ocht for ye — i' the way o' comin' atween you an' Jean, I
mean ? "
" If ye value yer heid keep awa' frae number 9 Nettle-
some Lane," was the suggestive answer.
" Has Jean a bit o' temper, Watty ? "
" A bit o' temper ! " retorted the other. " Il'm, if it wis
only a bit, a body could pit up wi't. Man, Johnny, she has
a hale worl' o' temper. She's a fair Tartar."
" Is she snuff ? " questioned Bachelor John.
" Waur than snuff! " ruefully answered Watty.
" Sulphur ? " put in Bachelor John.
" Waur than sulphur ! " answered the dejected husband.
Bachelor John bethought himself a moment, and then,
with a sudden lighting up of the countenance, he leaned
across the table and whispered —
" Saltpetre ? "
" Waur than Saut-Peter ! " forlornly replied Watty.
Bachelor John recast in his mind the small dictionary of
explosive words at his command, and after a thoughtful
pause suggested as a climax —
" Gunpowder ? "
" Waur than even gun-poother ! " persisted the not-to-be
comforted husband.
" Then,Watty,my lad, Jean's a conundrum, an' I gie her up."
" Think it oot a bit further," suggested the heart-crushed
Watty.
" Then, at a venture, I'll go in for gun-cotton ? "
" Ye're on the track noo," encouragingly responded the
desperate husband. " Keep at it."
WHA RULES THE HOOSE? 115
"Dynamite?" shouted aloud Bachelor John, as a last
effort.
" A compound and general mix up c' a' the destructive
elements ye've named, that's what she is ! " rejoined the
desperate Watty.
" Weel, that bates a' ! " replied Bachelor John. " But,
hark ye, Watty, I'll tell ye o' a ploy."
" What's that ? "
" Pretend ye've listed, an' gang back this nicht to tak' a
final fareweel o' her. There's something in that, ye'll find."
" Listed ? " retorted Watty. " Man, I wadna venture to
present mysel' afore the jaud unless I had the gun fairly on
my shoother, by way o' self-preservation. She'd flee at me
like a Bengal teegur ! "
" The gun can be gotten," was the daring reply of Bach-
elor John. " An' what's mair, Watty, I'se gang up to the
hoose wi' ye as a ' support.' "
"There'll be bluidshed, I fear," replied Watty; "but
never mind. Onything's better than gaun thro' life wi' a
cuisten-doon heid, an' a domestic hen crawin' like a cock owre
ye, wi' its neb sunk in the nape o' yer neck. I'll 'list this
vera nicht ; an' to be consistent I'll join the Koyal Forty-
second, pit on the kilts, an' hand owre Jean my breeks
as a farewell gift ! "
That same nicht Wattie was seen repairing to number 9
Nettlesome Lane, with a veritable gun on his shoother, and
no end of recruit ribbons on his bonnet, accompanied by
his ingenious friend, Bachelor John, who had resolved to
start forth as Watty's domestic guide, philosopher, and friend.
The gun — which, although uncharged, was of most
formidable size and appearance — had been borrowed for
the occasion.
" D'ye think I'll dae ? " asked the martial recruit, as he
and his friend plodded their way towards the domestic fort
about to be stormed.
116 WHA RULES THE II O O S E ?
" Dae ? Why, you'll cairry the position \vi' a single
rush ! "
Watty groaned in spirit, and was less than half-sure of
the result.
" If ye only knew her temper/' he replied. " She wad
face a Krupp cannon, let alane this empty stick that's
hingin' owre my left shoother ! "
" She's no to ken the gun's fu' o' naething, Watty. If
she yokes ye wi' her cankery tongue, jist ye present the
mooth o't at her, and I'll wager my best Sunday hat she
tak's the farthest awa' corner o' the hoose for't."
" Ye — ye — ye dinna ken her, Johnny," replied the
terrorised husband ; " she can birl a spurkle like a
dragoon's sword ! But cannie ! cannie there ! this is the
stair-fit ; let's keep a calm sough as we approach the door.
It's a crisis in my domestic career this — I feel it ! "
" Courage, Watty, courage ! Keep yer chin weel up, and
dinna disgrace the Queen's coat ! "
"Are ye a' richt an' ready ? " finally asked the shivering
W T atty, as the pair at last stood before the door.
" Advance ! The position's ours ! " was Bachelor John's-
over-confident reply.
The next moment — tap, tap, tlrrap ! went Watty's-
knuckles on the door, with an assumed vigour and self-
confidence which the shaky condition of his mind scarcely
warranted.
On opening the door, Jean glowered — literally glowered
— at the sight of her guidman with recruit ribbons tied to
his bonnet, and a real gun on his shoulder, finding, for the
moment, no words to fitly express her amazement.
Taking an adroit advantage of her baffled silence, the
heroic Watty strode into the kitchen as loftily and
courageously as his short stature and secret nervous alarm
would permit of, leaving his friend standing on the stair-
head, behind the door.
WHA RULES THE HOOSE? 117
"Jean," he began, not choosing to sit down; "Jean,
you've dune the trick for me at last !"
" What's that, Watty ? "
" I've tooken the shillin' ; I'm 'listed ! "
" Wha has been gi'en the buddy drink ? " was her
crushing reply, followed up by a skirl of derisive laughter.
" It's nae laughin' maitter, Jean. I've come to tak' a
last fareweel o' ye — for ever ! "
"Watty Wilson! Watty Wilson ! an' has it come to this!"
cried Jean ; " yow 'listed into the sodgers ! Five feet nae-
thing a sodger ! Cast aff yer ribboned bannet ; pit aside
that custock aff yer puir auld crookit shoother — that I'm
sure's sair wi' the wecht o't — and sit quately doon to yer
pease-brose."
" Present the gun at the jaud, Watty, that'll fricht her
into submission," whispered the defeated husband's guide,
philosopher, and friend, from behind the shelter of the door.
" Ye muckle elephant that ye are," sang out Watty,
levelling the gun at her; " if ye taunt me ony further I'll
put a brace o' bullets through yer brisket !"
Watty was not quite sure what the word " brisket " in-
ferred, or whereabouts the "brisket" was physically located,
but he had come across the word in story phraseology, and,
as it sounded bi^ and formidable, he thrust it at her entire,
in the hopes of securing a speedy capitulation at the
enemy's hands.
" Ye demented buddy that ye are ! " screamed the
domestic virago ; " wad ye daur to level firearms at me ! "
and wheeling adroitly about, she seized a heavy potato
beetle, and made a dash at the shivering Queen's recruit.
"Ground yer arms! " sang out Watty in the last extremity
of mortal terror ; " ground yer arms, or feth, I'll circwm-
splode ye ! " Watty obviously meant to affirm that he
would blow her to pieces, but in the agony of his terror, his
language, like his wits, had got inextricably mixed up.
118 WHA RULES THE IIOOSE?
In a moment the angry woman had driven aside the
formidable-looking musket, and was instantly on her
husband's unprotected " tap," and the next moment poor
Watty found himself flung out bodily on the stairheid,
minus the musket, and all bruises and aching sores.
Believing that his friend, Bachelor John, was still inside,
Watty mentally commiserated his fearful fate, and rushed
downstairs in quest of needed help.
" She'll batter him into blue lumps ! " he sorrowfully
sighed, as he hurried forth to regain the open street.
At the " close mouth " he was more than astonished to
find his philosophic " support " vigorously blowing a police-
call for assistance.
" In the name o' a' that's uncannie, hoo cam' ye there,
Johnny ? Did the jaud throw ye owre the back window?"
" Watty, I'll never be able to tell hoo I got doon the
stairs. I'm here, thank guidness, an' that's a' I'm sure o\
But, Watty ; whaur's the gun ? "
" Up i' the hoose ; I had nae time to think o't. It was
awfu' work for twa-three seconds. The gun's "
" What ! in her possession, Watty ? "
" In her possession — defeat o' the British ! — victory o' the
enemy ! — and great capture o' military stores ! Gang ye up
an' beg the gun affher, Johnny."
" Beg the gun aff her ! No, no ; not for ten thousand
worlds, Watty ; not for ten thousand worlds ! "
That night poor Watty lost hope and courage entirely,
and refused to be comforted, lie had challenged his wife,
and had been beaten ignominiously, and his philosophic
"support" sent flying hence. So he resolved, poor man,
to find his meals and lodgings outside till such time as he
concluded on Jean's dragoon-wrath having settled down.
But—" No ! no ! Watty ; ye'll dae naething o' the kind,"
put in Bachelor John. " Ye'se share my bed for this nicht,
WHA' RULES THE HOOSE? 119
an' the morn's nichfc we'll try anither game wi' Jean —
attack her frae some ither point of vantage — perceive ? "
"Oo, ay, I perceive weel enough," frankly answered
Watty ; " but I choose to be the commanding General this
time, wha stan's at a safe distance surveying and directing
the attack thro' a lang telescope."
" Wheesht, wheesht, Watty ; there's nane o' us '11 hae to-
gang under fire this time. The enemy has captured our
gun at the point o' the tattie-beetle, it is true, and the posi-
tion is clearly Jean's, nae doot. But, hark ye, lad ; I've
hit on a plan to work the oracle wi' her. '
" An' what's that ? '
" It's this, Watty ; ye ken big Fechtin' Jock o' Bruiser
Lane ? "
" Brawly," replied Watty, "an my jaw kens him tae, as
weel. He clooted my chafts yae nicht, just for fun, as he
ca'd it, an' sent me into the middle o' the following week
wi' the speed o' a sixpenny telegram ! "
" Weel, Watty," proceeded his philosophic friend, " I'll get
Fechtin' Jock to come alang for a dram, an' we'll pit him
up to the game, which '11 be this — You an' him 'ill gang up
to Jean the morn's nicht ; an' yell cry out — ■ Open the door,
Jean, till I lether ye!' Then ye'll slip a wee bit back into the
dark o' the lobby, leavin' Fechtin' Jock stan'in' in yer place
before the door. Out'll come Jean, bouncin' an' threatenin'
yer verra life — the tattie-beetle in her ban', an' then Fechtin'
Jock '11 fa' upon her, an' wallop her weel, an' that tae be-
fore she has time to see in the dark o' the lobby wha deals
the blows. Then, when she's fairly floored, Jock '11 with-
draw wi' a jump, an' in you'll slip, Watty, stan'in' boldly
owre her wi' up-buckled sleeves, an' a' panting wi' exertion
and excitement, as if ye had jist that moment struck her
the finishin' blow, waitin' impatiently to hear her first ex-
pressed word o' repentance an' domestic submission."
" It looks gran' in theory," answered Watty, " but in
1 20 v;ha rules the hoose'I
practice it '11 prove a risky job. Iloosumever, if Fechtin'
Jock clisna mind a fractured skull owre much, an's willin'
to come, then, death or life ! I'll risk it."
Imagine, then, to-morrow night come round, and the fate-
ful hour at hand. Fechtin' Jock's services have been secured,
and Watty and his highly ingenious friend, are on their way
to what, in military parlance, we may here call " the front."
Watty is only half sure of the game, and his heart is
thumping excitedly against his sides with the swing of an
eight-day clock pendulum, notwithstanding the fact that,
within the hour previous, he has swallowed three full
glasses of Campbeltown whisky !
" Keep up yer pecker, Watty," puts in Bachelor John,
" immortal glory, honour, and domestic house-sovereignty
await ye. Ye'll come oot o' this adventure a local and
domestic Lord Wolsele} 7 , and be voted for the remainder o'
yer life a potato-beetle peerage, wi' a grant o' unlimited
pease-brose a' the week, an' a tea breakfast on Sunday
mornings. Fechtin' Jock, there, is richt able for his work."
" Yes!" exclaimed the fighting man, " I'll smartly turn on
her claret tap, tingle the ivories in her potato box, and con-
found her eyesight and understanding in a jifYey."
"For your ain sake, my man, as weel as for that o' a'
concerned, jink the tattie-beetle," cautioned Watt\ T . " Yae
weel-planted blow frae Jean would remit ye to anither and
— let me piously hope — a higher sphere ; but cannie, lads ;
we're here at the dreaded stair-fit yince mair."
" Courage, Watty, courage ! " sang out the philosopher,
" resolution is the half of success ! Why fear the result ?
The ball rolls well. Let the cry be — On ! on ! Forward !
Death or victory ! "
" Ay, imph ! " sneered the unassured husband, " an' what
pairt are ye gaun to play in the bluidy drama, Johnny ?
It's a' very fine to stan' behind a door an' cry oot — ' On ! on !
Forward ! Death or victory ! ' But, kennin' the enemy's
WHA RULES THE HOOSE? 121
mettle as I dae, it's a vera different thing to march into a
death's den an' withstan' the fierce haffet-clawin' o' an
enraged woman."
" Oh, ye ken, Watty, I'll stan' by ye as a * support.'
Victory is often assured by a timely moving to the front o'
the reserved ' supports,' ye ken."
" Ay," thocht Watty to himsel' ; " ye'll be gaun to act as
a flying column, I suppose," but he didn't venture to speak
out the sarcasm.
" Now, Watty, ye'll demand the gun, in stern, command-
ing tones, outside the door, immediately the 'chapp' is
given," explained Bachelor John, as the detachment
cautiously ascended the stair; "an' you, Jock, ye'll be ready
to floor her before she sees what's what, ye un'erstan' ?"
" I'll close up her ' daylights ' pop, pop ! " significantly
answered Fechtin' Jock.
" If I could only manage to mak' my heart lie still"
lamented the excited Watty. " It's fleein' aboot my breist
like a new-caught bird in a cage."
" Courage ; the day is ours ! Sound the advance ! "
resolutely whispered the philosophic organiser of the ex-
pedition. " Now, lad, lay your knuckles firmly against the
panel o' the door."
Thump, thump, thump, went Fechtin' Jock's shut fist
against the door, and a moment after the voice of Jean was
heard rumbling: inside somewhere, like rising thunder.
" Wha's that layin' their ill-set feet against my door ? "
she cried from within.
" My door," thought Watty to himself; "she still claims
the hoose as hers ! Feth, an' we'll ha'e a teuch fecht for
possession, I see."
Thump, thump, thump, was repeated on the shaken
door-panel by way of answer to her question, and the next
moment the voice of Watty was heard tremulously palpitat-
ing on the dread silence —
».8. 9
122 WHA RULES THE HOOSE?
" Open — the — door, Jean ; I com — manrl ye ! "
"What! an' that's you, Watty, that's thumping sae im-
pidently at my door ? Ye wee five feet, soor-dook sodger !
'Od, if I rise frae my sate I'll clash your chafts wi' a wat
dishcloot ! "
" Demand the gun, Watty," the voice of the philosophic
commandant was heard shouting from somewhere behind
the kitchen door; "demand the immediate and uncon-
ditional surrender and restoration of the gun ! "
" I demand," blurted out Watty, " I demand the im-im-
immediate and undivisional sur-sur-surrender and conspli-
cation of the g-g-gun. Give me the g-g-gun ! "
" Gi'e you the gun, ye wee morsel that ye are ! I'll mak'
firewood o't first. If ye treat me to ony mair o' yer sraa'
jaw, I'll rise an' wring the bit neck o' ye."
" The gun, woman, the gun ! " demanded Watty,
strengthened into firm speech and daring by the re-assuring
words of the philosophic commandant.
" It's the gun ye want," answered the storming virago ;
" but I'll treat ye to the tattie-beetle."
"The tattie-beetle!" yelled out the alarmed Watty, his
hair galvanised into erect birses with perfect fright.
" Stand fast. Victory or glorious death ! " sung out the
commandant from behind the door.
" Lordsake, here she comes ! It's you an' her for't now,
Jock!" cried Watty, darting like lightning into a recess of
the dark lobby. " Into her, but tak' care o' yer skull."
A moment after the door flew open, ami — there was a
scutlle, a series of yells, and a collapse of something heavy
on the floor.
Waity dashed in as the victorious pugilist withdrew, and
stood valiantly over his prostrate wife, who was half-
blinded with confusion and facial derangement.
"D'ye want ony mair o't?" coolly inquired Watty,
assuming a lofty air, although his heart was going like an
\V II A EULES THE HOOSE: 123
express engine. " If sae, just tell me afore I pit doon my
shirt sleeves ?"
"Oh! oh! oh! Watty Wilson! Watty Wilson! To
think ye wad ha'e sae abused your ain lawf u' wife — at your
ain fire-en', tae. Oho ! oho ! oho !"
"My ain fire-en'," soliloquised the much-delighted Watty.
My ain fire-en' ! 'Od, that's a sweet bit to row in a married
man's mouth. Jean, yer han' on't. I'm sorry for the
thrashin' I've gi'en ye. But, lass, my temper got clean the
better o' me, an' I couldna restrain my han's. When fairly
roused, an' on my mettle, Jean, I've the strength o' thirty-sis
African lions ! But wheesht, wheesht, lass ; dinna tak' it
sae sair to heart. If it's a bargain atween us that I'm to
rule an' you're to serve, then there's my han' on't, an' I'll
never lift it against my loving and respected wife again.
What say ye, Jeannie ? "
" The sodgers ! the soclgers ! " cried out the conquered
wife. " They'll come an' steal ye awa' frae yer ain loving
Jeannie ! "
" Say the word, an' it's no too late yet."
" Yes ! yes ! " sobbed Jean.
" Yer han' on't, then."
" There ! "
" An' noo, Jeannie, I'll aff an' awa' back to the barracks
wi' the gun."
" Tak' it oot o' my sicht, Watty ; an' oh, tak' care o'
yersel' wi't, an' dinna be owre lang awa' frae yer ain loving
doo. I'll be lonely till ye come back."
" In a crack, Jeannie, I'll be back to kiss an' comfort yo
— my ain sweet lovey ! " answered the delighted Watty ;
and I have only to add, in conclusion, that twa happier
domestic doos than Watty Wilson and Jean Jamieson dinna
at this day dab kisses frae ilk ither at ony fireside in braid
Scotland.
124 SANDY M'TARTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS.
SANDY M'TARTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS.
Sandy M'Taetan, and his loving spouse, Kirsty, paid a
visit to the " Shows " last year, and turned oot twa o' the
greatest curiosities to be seen there.
Arriving at the spot, they very soon found themselves
part and parcel of the densely-packed crowd, and, like other
sight-seers, were jostled and hustled hither and thither
with ceaseless repetition.
To avoid separation, Kirsty " cleekit " Sandy, and hung
upon his arm like a firmly glued and dove-tailed fixture.
M'Tartan observed to Kirsty that the crowd was a mixed
one, as they struggled through it, but Kirsty, with out-
spoken humour, flatly declared that there was " nae mix-
tures aboot it, for it was entirely made up o' Gleska
keelies."
" Weel, then, Kirsty, let's get inside some ' Show r to be
clear o' them."
" Na, na, guidman ; that wad be jumpin' oot o' the fryin'
pan into the fire. We'll keep in the air — ootside."
So they wandered hither and thither with the swaying
crowd, and got glimpses of pictorial advertisements of
many wonderful and curious pennyworths to be witnessed
inside. Irish giants who could liirht the streets of Dublin
without the help of a ladder; and Yankee tall men who, for
a challenge of £100, could for height " flop" all creation.
Wherever a giant was on exhibition, a dwarf, by way of con-
trast, was invariably the second feature of the establishment.
Then, there were also to be seen people with two heads, and
women with full-grown beards; animals with too many legs,
and animals with too few ; acting monkeys, and speaking
fish; intelligent and calculating ponies, and star mammoth
rigs ; knock- nie-out Sallys, and knock-me-down nine-pins ;
merry-go-rounds driven by engines, and organs going by
SANDY M'TARTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS. 125
steam; stands covered with icebergs of ice-cream, and tables
smoking with " blows of hot peas ; " ascending London
boxes, and high-flying swings ; tents of pantomime fun, and
booths of bleeding tragedy; waxworks, sparring booths,
circuses, menageries, wizards' tents and hobgoblinscopes,
with almost every other conceivable and inconceivable
incongruity. Each booth had a great front of highly-
coloured picture - canvas, illustrative of the scenes and
wonders to be seen inside. The menageries especially were
rich in pictorial display. At the stair-way of one of the
largest " collections " a crier stood, who, with the aid of a
good voice and a long tapered stick, with a tassel made
of strips of coloured cotton adorning the top end of it,
called frequent attention to a tremendous-looking picture
of—
" The great Hafrican lion, Nero, the pride hov the forest!
— the huntameable monarch hov the Hafrican wilds,
genTmen, as has heaten and swallered six h-alive keepers
within the past four years ! To be seen h-alive, genTmen,
to be seen h-alive ! No waiting ! no delay ! "
With the expiry of each half-dozen words, the " crier "
flopped the canvas picture with his stick, said picture
representing the "pride hov the Hafrican forest" in the act
of swallowing an " h-alive keeper."
" Supposing we gang in and see the African ' monarch o'
the wuds,' -Kirsty, eh ? "
"Na, na, guidman; I'll e'en dae naething o' the kind; the
fearsome britt micht tak' a fancy for you or me for supper.
Let's move roond wi' the crood."
' Weel, let's try the ' acting monkeys/ Kirsty ; they'll no
eat us alive, surely. They ha'e a born genius for crackin'
a nit, but I never heard o' yin o' them takin' waur liberties
wi' a man-body than chowin' the button aff his coat."
" Gae awa' wi' you an' yer monkeys," retorted Kirsty ;
" nesty, itchy britts ; I hate the vera sicht o' them ! "
126 SANDY M'TAUTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS
" Weei. fry a gless o' ice-cream," insisted M'Tartan.
" It wad raise the tuithache in my three auld stumps."
" Try a bowl o' het pease, then."
"It wad develop the win' on the stammack."
" Here, then," said M'Tartan, excitedly, " hand oot yer
haun'. There's a penny ; get on the back o' a haooy-horse
for five minutes, while I try a roond wi' the gloves," and
before Kirsty had time to wink, M'Tartan had darted inside
of a sparring booth, where some Birmingham men were show-
ing how human eyes may be successfully discoloured, and
noses scientifically put out of shape.
Kirsty -was paralysed with astonishment. She looked up
at the announcement of the performance on the canvas over
the door, and saw that each entertainment wound-up with
a regular " set-to " between the "Birmingham Cock" and
the " Belfast Chicken," these being the professional
sobriquets of the two leading men of the sparring
establishment.
"Eh, me," quo' Kirsty to hersel', "and he's really in to see
a cock-fccht! Fine wark for a Scotchman and a Christian !"
and she resolved to stand by for a time, mentally determined
that a second fecht between a certain domestic cock and hen
would be openly instituted on his return.
Meantime M'Tartan had got himself well placed next the
"ropes," and the audience having been invited to take a turn
at the "gloves," M'Tartan boldly challenged the "Birming-
ham Cock " to a bout, the more so that the English pugilist
had just knocked down a " kiltit sodger" twice his own
weight, who had ventured to face him. The honour of Scot-
land was thus at stake, and our hero was prepared to vindi-
cate it at all personal risk. M'Tartan, as may well be
imagined, was a rare sight to sec when he had laid aside his
stick and coat and donned the formidable-looking "gloves."
" Noo, lead aft", my cockie," he remarked, " an' nae hittin'
below the belt. I'll dust yer winkers, my man, an that
SANDY M'TARTAN'S VISIT TO THE SHOWS. 127
afore twa ticks. There, tak' that ! " and driving out his
right fist at the Birmingham man, that " expert " smartly
drew aside his head, and allowed M'Tartan's blow to waste
its virtue on the unresisting air, complimenting him, at the
same time, with a stiff one on the bread-basket, which sent
Sandy outside the " ropes," and into the arms of the
laughing spectators.
" 'Odsake, the birkie can hit ! " was M'Tartan's exclama-
tion on being set up on his pins ; " but if he has scored the
first knock-doon blow, I'll draw the first bluid. Come on,
my man ; tippence for first bluid ! "
Again M'Tartan shot out his hand, and again, quick as
light, his understandings went uppermost, and he came
down on the sawdust, this time on his bulky posterior.
A roar of laughter succeeded, which M'Tartan heeded not.
Rubbing the dust from his eyelids, he once more valiantly
confronted his lithe and wary enemy.
Humorously warning him to "mind his left e'e, as he was
£aun to illuminate that orjran," M'Tartan tried a swingim;-
side-blow at his opponent's right ear. The Birmingham man
ducked cleverly, with a faint smile, and M'Tartan, amid.st,
shouts of laughter, whirled three times round on his heel,
and fell pop down on the saw-dust floor for the third time.
The audience laughed aloud, and, dropping his gloved
hands by his side, so also did the " Birmingham Cock."
But his triumph was of brief duration. A commotion was
presently seen amongst the spectators, and a peculiar shreigh
of excitement told M'Tartan that Kirsty was within the
booth. Such was indeed the case ; and a moment after
the redoubtable Kirsty was inside the "ring," and had broken
her auld umbrella over the Birmingham man's head.
" Ye wad knock doon ma guidnian, ye vagabond that ye
are ! " she exclaimed, following him up all round the ring,
amidst shouts of laughter. " Dod, an' I get ye, I'se thraw
the neck o' ye, ye keelie-looking craitur that ye are ! "
128 SANDY M'TARTANS VISIT TO THE SHOWS.
" Does the old ' missus ' want a ' go ' ? " asked the
Birmingham man, throwing himself into fighting position.
" Ay ; haud ye there, fechtie, till I get at ye !" exclaimed
Kirsty, uplifting her damaged umbrella menacingly for a
second blow.
But " fechtie," perceiving the humour of the situation,
dropped his fists, and precipitately retired from the ring.
And thus, by an apparent paradox, the " cock " having fled
the spot, Kirsty virtually became the hen of the walk.
"Kirsty!" cried M'Tartan, adjusting his deranged apparel,
" this way, lass, afore ye affront me," and the heroic pair
were presently outside the booth.
" What for did ye interfere ? " resumed M'Tartan, as they
made for the outside of the crowd ; " twa minutes mair o't,
an' I wad ha'e poother't the birkie's pow wi' some swankin'
blows. As it is, I've sent the chiel hame wi' a sarkfu' o'
sair banes, I'm thinkin' ! The cock-a-doodle craw o' him
was jist mair than I could stan'."
" Sair banes or no sair banes," answered Kirsty, " I'm
confident the birkie has a gey sair heid the noo. But I'm
clean vext for my guid auld umbrella — the handle's fairly
broken in twa."
"Here, Kirsty !" suddenly exclaimed M'Tartan, " let's try
a shot at the ' Lang Rifle Bange ' before we leave the grun'.
I'm itchin' to ' pap ' the bull's-eye."
" Pap yer wa's hamewards, guidman ; ye're no safe to be
left alane in a crood like this. See, here's the tram-car
waitin' on us ; in wi' ye." And ere M'Tartan had time' to
expostulate, the amusing pair were inside the car and
whirling westwards towards home.
'o
End of First Series.
Scotch Readings
Scotch Readings
Humorous and Amusing
SECOND SERIES
By
Alexander G. Murdoch
Author of "Recent and Living Scottish Poets "
" A merrie buke's guid companie "
SECOND EDITION
GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON
LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO
1888
GLASGOW: PRINTED BY ROBERT MACI.EHOSE,
153 West Nile Street.
Pkeface.
In issuing a second series of Scotch Readings, the author
desires to thank both the press and the public for the kind
and encouraging reception accorded to the first series which
was issued last year, and is already in the third edition.
This very gratifying measure of success has encouraged
him, to still further exercise his fancy in the same popular
direction, and he hopes that the present series may be
accorded, a similar reception on the part of the reading-
public.
The literary merit requisite for such productions is not
necessarily high. Of this the author is well aware. At
the same time, literature of this class will be read and
heartily enjoyed by a large section of the public, who, from
the arduous nature of their employment, or for other reasons,
have not the time or taste necessary for the perusal of
works of a more elaborate and pretentious nature, and
which often remain unread and neglected.
V'i PREFACE.
The scenes depicted in the following pages are exclusively
Scotch, both in character and detail. They are all cast
in that humorous vein, in which broad laughter predomin-
ates, a distinct merit in itself in these hurried and exciting
days of wear and tear, when business, worry, and care, press
so heavily on men's minds.
The truth of the modern aphorism, that there is no
particular merit in a book being seriously unreadable, was
never more forcibly apparent than now, and on this latter
point, the author believes, the most censorious of readers
will be at one with him.
Glasgow, January, 1S88.
CONTENTS.
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY, 9
THE MEN DIN' 0' JOHNNY MACFARLAN'S LUM HAT, 27
THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE, - 38
THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN, - - - - U
JOCK TURNIP'S MITHER-IN-LA W, S3
LODGINGS AT ARRAN, 59
00 R JOHN'S PATENT ALARUM, 63
MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS BOON THE WATTER, - - 70
SANDY M'TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GOVAN, - 82
ROBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER, - - - 87
JOHNNY SAFTYS SECOND WIFE, ... - 95
THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN, - - -104
DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE, - - 110
GLESKA MUTTON, U. PER POUND, 115
Scotch Keadings.
SECOND SERIES.
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
If ye've half an hour to spare, I'll tell ye the story o' Johnny
Gowdy's funny ploy ; for, altho' it's a grave story, it's at the
same time a gey merry yin. and's weel worth the kennin'.
" There's a snell nicht, Mysie," said Eobin Tamson, yarn
merchant in the auld Candleriggs, as he presented his
rubicund countenance and portly well-preserved form inside
the narrow doorway of Johnny Gowdy's wee tobacco and
snuff shop at the foot of the High Street of Glasgow, one
chill wintry night some eighty years ago. when the law
regarding debt and imprisonment was very different from
what it now is.
" A rale nippin' December nicht, atweel," responded
Mysie, wife of Johnny, " an' it strikes me we'll hae a fa' o'
snaw before daylicht the morn.''
" 'Deed, lass, I widna winder, an' if it brings a wee hue
o' heat wi't, it's comin's welcome. Fill that, Mysie ; ye
ken my likin'." And the customer placed a silver snuff-
box on the small counter to be substantially replenished.
" Licht broon an' macabaw, I suppose ?" asked the tosh
shopwife.
10 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
" Are ye speirin' my taste that way, Mysie ? O'd, if
Johnny himsel' was here he'd ken better, I'm thinkin'. He's
as familiar wi' my taste in snuff as he is wi' the face o' the
auld Tolbooth clock. What's cam'owre the loon the nicht?"
" Oo," replied the shopwife, proceeding to replenish Eobin's
box, " he's snug seated in the back kitchen there, readin'
awa' at the papers, an' up to the tap o' his twa lugs in the
French wars."
" Cry him ben, Mysie."
A moment after and Johnny "himsel"' was at the back
of the counter, full of inquiring wonderment, the " papers "
still in his hand, and his auld flint specks thrown up on his
bald and shining brow. Johnny was a short, podgy body,
of a somewhat humorsome turn, a sort of short comedy
in home-spun hodden-grey, with a persistent disposi-
tion to close one eye when tickled — which was often — and
laugh with the rest of his features.
" Eobin Tamson !" he exclaimed, " is it possible ye're oot
in sic a nose-nippin' nicht as this is ! O'd, laird, I hope
ye've left yer croighley hoast ahint ye at yer ain fire-en', for
it's no for exposure on a frosty December nicht like this."
" Ye may weel say't, ye may vveel say't, Johnny ; but
the mist's aye waur than the frost for a hoast, ye ken. It's
the neb o' my nose that suffers the nicht ; till I had a pinch
o' Mysie's famous mixin', my nose was just as cauld when I
first cam' into the shop here as the ' black boy ' ye hae as a
signbrod above yer door-heid. Here, Johnny, tak' a dip."
" Ay !" continued Eobin, half to himself and half aloud,
while Johnny helped himself at the box, Mysie, meantime,
having moved off a bit to serve another customer — "there's
waur than coughs an' cauld noses in this world," and re-
ceiving back the box from Johnny, he re-applied himself to
its comforting contents so vigorously as to cause his con-
cerned cronie to ask —
"What ava's the maitter — ony thing wrang, Eobin?"
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 11
" A's wrang thegither, Johnny," replied Eobin ; " Deacon
Spreull's gaun to bring my worldly a' to the hammer,
an' sen' me to the Tolbooth. Hae ye an hour to spare wi'
me up-bye in auld Jenny Middleton's Tontine taproom,
Johnny ?"
Johnny jerked his thumb in the direction of his spouse,
Mysie, who was busy with a wife customer at the far end of
the counter, and closing his left eye, suggested strong doubts
on the subject.
" Is't no at a' possible, Johnny, think ye ?"
" "We'll try her, Eobin, we'll try her," and then, turning
to his spouse, he said — " Mysie, I'll need to gang oot a
wee while, I fear."
" Xoo, Johnny- !"
" It's a' richt, Mysie, it's a' richt an' ticht ; no a drap,
lass, believe me, no a drap '11 cross my craig this blessed
nicht ! The fack is," he continued, with a fluency of inven-
tion which would have made the fortune of a novelist, " the
French have jist landed on a hill at the back o' Camlachie,
the laird here tells me, an' they're likely to be in the toon
playin' Tom an' Herry wi' a'thing the morn's mornin'."
" The Lord help us !" cried Mysie, unconsciously skailin'
a haill skipfu' of snuff which she was in the act of serving
to a customer. " O'd, I hope they'll no come doon the
High Street."
" I hope no, Mysie," continued the facetious snuff-dealer ;
" but I'll hae to "an^ awa' roon to the Council Chambers
alang wi' Robin, an' see the Provost an' the Bailies a bit ;
for a' the toon burgesses are to be summoned there this
nicht for the protection o' the city, an' we'll maist likely be
served oot wi' a baton or a musket, to gie the bit puddock-
eatin' French bodies a fell threshin' when they come."
" Eh, me, the Lord keep us !" sighed the terror-stricken
Mysie. " D'ye think I should pit on the window-brods ?"
" It wad be safer," said Johnny. " I wad almost bid ye
12 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
strike a compromise between war and business by pittin' on
the ' brods ' hauf an' hour earlier the nicht ; say half-past
nine instead o' ten o'clock ; an', Mysie, dinna wait up for
me. The foreign loons '11 no be here before ten o'clock
the nicht, Eobin — eh ? "
" Oo, the shop windows are perfectly safe till ten o'clock
the nicht ; hoo lang they may remain sae's anither question,"
responded Robin, as the pair prepared to depart.
" See an' tak' care o' yer skin, Johnny, an' no be brocht
hame to me on a shutter, wi' yae leg shot aff an' the tither
only hauf on — mind ye !"
"Death or glory !" cried back the gallant snuff-dealer, and
the twa bosom cronies thereafter passed out into the chill
street, and turning the corner of the Cross steeple, they
immediately sought the seclusion and comfortable cheer
offered nightly at auld Jenny Middleton's snuggery situated
at the head of the once famous " Tontine Closs."
Arrived in Jenny Middleton's, there the twa cronies found
Willie Campbell, a " grocer buddy," who own'd a thriving
wee Jenny-a'-thing shop at the head of the auld Sautmarket,
cornering the east end of the Trongate. Willie kept every-
thing saleable in stock, and a few things more, but would
answer to no trade designation but the very respectable one
of " grocer," his auld faither, decent, worthy man, having
been that before him. Willie was a gleg, eident, thrifty,
honest sort of a body, inheriting a useful talent for making
twopence out of a penny. Willie, therefore, had about
equal credit in kirk, bank, and market, and being in addition a
toon burgess, he was personally and in numerous other ways
" nae sma' beer."
"An' hoo's his lairdship haudin' ?" Willie asked, and
Robin's answer was prompt and significant : —
" Deil ill, Willie, an', what's worse, no like to be better !
Financially, I'm jist an auld cask in the ban's o' a fell
cooper, an' it's a hanging question whether they'll ca' the
.IOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 13
bottom clean oot o' me or gie me anither chance an' ' girr '
me up anew."
" Wha's the cooper, Kobin ?" significantly asked the Saut-
market grocer.
" Deacon Spreull, o' the Stockwell. "
" Then, the bottom's already oot o' ye, Eobin," rejoined the
other.
" That's what I'm fell fear'd o'," put in Johnny Gowdy,
" the Deacon's mercy's like the North Pole, it's kin' o' cauld
awee, an' tho' it's believed to exist it has never yet been
yince seen."
" Ye've said it, Johnny, ye've jist said it," acceded the
yarn merchant with a heavy sigh, " I'm this nicht, I fear,
naething better than jist a gone cask. The grim auld
Deacon has me completely in his power. I'm hopelessly
involved — bonded, mortgaged, post obited, and, in fact,
generally and completely water-logged ; an' hoo to come oot
o't, or hoo to escape the jile (gaol) is mair than I can even
imagine, let alane soberly reason oot. Hech-howe ! this is
a crookit warld when the penny '11 no rin richt," and the
troubled yarn merchant dived his fore-finger and thumb into
the centre of his well-filled box, and liberally replenished
his capacious nostrils, which had unusually fine accommo-
dation for snuff.
" Gor, laird, an' are things owre bye in the Can'leriggs
as bad as that ?" asked the Sautmarket grocer, his hair rising.
on end ; and presently adjusting his spectacles he looked
interestedly at the yarn merchant, as if searching there for
facial proof of the impending financial disaster.
" As bad, an' even waur, Willie," rejoined the all but
broken man of yarn, " the Deacon maun hae his money
immediately, or he threatens to roup me oot — stick an' stow."
" Weel," put in Johnny Gowdy, "it's e'en a black frost
wi' ye if ye're to lippen to the tender mercies o' Deacon
Spreull. The Deacon, it's baith weel an' wide ken'd, is a
14 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
hard creditor ; he could ' whussle ' a psalm tune an' skin a
debtor alive. As faur as I can see, there's naething for ye,
Eobin, but to conveniently dee ; that's the sair logic o' the
position," and the adviser closed his left eye, and laughed
with the lee side of his face.
" Dee ! " exclaimed both the yarn merchant and the Saut-
market grocer in a single breath.
" Ay dee, Eobin ; to escape the Deacon's grup ye'll be
obleeged to e'en dee."
"Dee at just sixty !" retorted the man of yarn, " fack no,
I'll no try that trick yet ; I'm e'en sixty, as I say, but,
according to Scripture, I've ten years guid to the fore yet ;
an', mair than that," he continued, " I've a solid kist here
(tapping his stout chest) an' a bit o' soond clock-wark here
(touching his deeply-furrowed brow) which should gi'e me a
firm haud o' life till eichty guid. I'll dee to pleesure neither
deil nor deacon ! "
" Hoots man ! ye dinna unnerstan' me, Robin. There's
only yae way o' being born, but there's fifty ways o' gettin'
to heaven, an' still mair ways o' leavin' this worl'. To illustrate
my meaning, a man that's sair pressed an' pitten tae can con-
veniently dee by proxy, or by hoaxy, ye unnerstan'."
"By proxy, or by hoaxy!" interjected the perplexed man
of yarn.
" Baith ways," persisted the snuff dealer, " break in
business the morn, Kobin, dee suddenly the next day, an'
come to life again in Greenock the week after. Willie
there, an' mysel', 'ill see that ye're decently coffined an' in-
terred ; an' if ye're anxious for posthumous fame, we can
e'en pit up a bit canny stane owre ye, an' tell as big a lee
about yer piety as ithers. Listen : —
HERE LIES
Eobin Tamson, Yarn-merchant in the auld Can'leriggs o'
Glasgow, who departed this weary sojourn thro' a wicked
JOHNNY GOVVDY S FUNNY PLOY. 15
wilderness o' thorns, to enter a better life — at Greenock!
Much respected ; deeply regretted, etc., etc.
His yarn is broke : his hank is spun :
His f echt is f ocht : his race is run ! "
"Weel, laird," resumed the ingenious snuff-dealer, "are
ye gaun to tak' my grave advice — an' dee to escape the jile ?"
" I'm a corp before this day week, Johnny, I may as weel
dee in my bed as be killed on the street by the French —
eh," laughingly rejoined the man of yarn.
So, it was there an' then definitely fixed and arranged
that Eobin Tamson, toon burgess and yarn merchant, in the
Candleriggs, should, in view of extreme possibilities, die an'
be buried by " hoax-y," as had been humorously suggested,
on an agreed day of that week, and should, by some
spiritualistic transmutation, come to life again in Greenock
the week following and so end his years in peace and
financial comfort. Thereafter the three friends separated.
Things had gone all right thus far, when, in the course of
the next afternoon, a rap-tap-tap came to the yarn mer-
chant's door, which was promptly answered.
"Weel, mistress," said Johnny Gowdy to the deceased
yarn merchant's widowed spouse, as he and Willie Campbell
stood together at the door of the bereaved house ; " hoo are
ye stannin' yer sair heart-trial?" and half-closing his left
eye, Johnny threatened laughter with the remainder of his
face, a result which the gravity of the situation alone forbade.
" Oo, just come yer wa's in ; I'm haudin' fairly. I hope
I see ye baith weel ? "
"Oh, Peter Dumdick!" merrily put in Willie Campbell,
" we're baith thrivin' like spring cabbages — fresh-lookin' an'
overflowin' wi' usefu' blossom," an' there an' then the worthy
pair passed gravely inside.
" An' hoo's the corp, Betty ?" resumed the snuff-dealer, as
the pair followed the mistress of the house upstairs. " I
was speirin' after the corp, Betty ; ye're absent a wee."
16 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
" Oo, the healthiest corp I ever saw or heard tell o',"
truthfully answered the " widow," " put owre a pund o'
pope's eye steak to its dinner the day, was unco sair on the
toddy bowl, an's jist fell mad for snuff ; a thrivin' halesome
corp atweel."
"Hillo, Johnny, is this yersel' ?" shouted the corpse from
the room above. " I ken the sough o' yer hamely voice, an'
that o' auld Willie Campbell, tae ! Come awa', freens ! come
awa' ! Ye're richt welcome here," and the corpse, with its
feet in warm slippers, a pair of horn " specks " across its
rubicund nose, an' a snuff-box in its han', heartily invited its
late bosom cronies to tak' a dip oot o' its box.
" An' what aboot the ither world, Eobin ; is the place ocht
better than this ?" facetiously inquired the snuff-dealer.
" Weel, Johnny, my experience that way is but limited
yet ; I've never got heicher up than this bit attic bed-room.
But at ween the three o' us, I wad bate on the comforts o'
the Gleska Can'leriggs against a' the worlds I've yet seen or
heard tell o', atween this and the Jamaicas. 'Ye see, Johnny,"
he humorously added, " a body can aye get a grup o' yarn in
the auld Can'leriggs o' Gleska, an' yarn's a healthy reality,
altho' I never cam' across the word in Scriptur'."
" Weel," rejoined the snuff-dealer, " ye'se likely to ken
inair aboot the ither world before the morn's mornin', Eobin ;
we mean to coffin ye the nicht."
"Hoot-toot-toot!" laughed the deceased man of yarn,
" ye're carryin' the joke owre faux, lads."
"It's necessary, Robin," put in the Sautmarket grocer,
" absolutely necessary."
" What !" exclaimed the horrified man of yarn.
" Absolutely necessary, as Willie has jist said," insisted
the snuff- dealer. " In strict truth, there's nae ither way oot
o' the hole ; for the Deacon, we've jist learned, hearing o' yer
sudden demise, has got decree against yer body corporate, an'
hasgi'en lang Tarn Sinclair, the ill loon, an' his wee man, Jock
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 17
Cluggie, instructions to come here the nicht an' arrest yer
corp ! "
" What !" again exclaimed the deceased man of yarn, and.
unable to articulate more, he sat back in his cushioned arm-
chair for several moments, the picture of blank astonishment
and collapsed nerves.
"Arrest my guidman's corp!" screamed his faithful
" widow," who had followed the twa cronies into her
husband's bed-room, " before that happens there'll be twa
corps in the room — lang Tarn Sinclair being yin o' them !"
and Mrs. Tamson picked up a fireside poker which was
lying handy, and suggestively flourished it in mid-air.
" Stop ! stop ! " put in the inventive snuff-dealer, " the
easiest way's aye the best ; we'll try an' sort the thing
amang oorsel's, and then let chance an' the deil guide
the rest. There's aye twa sides to a question — a richt
side an' a wrang yin ; and the richt side in this case, Eobin,
is jist to feenish the grim joke by yer lairdship gettin' inside
the kist (coffin), preparatory to the beagle's arrival. The
' box ' '11 be here by an' by — it's trysted — an' I fear so will
the beagles. We'll need to work the ploy confidentially
amang han's ; a' in the hoose are in the secret, I suppose ? "
The man of yarn nodded dubious affirmation, his mouth
still agape.
" Weel," continued the ingenious snuff-dealer, " consent
ye to the kistin' (coffining), Eobin, an' if lang Tarn Sinclair
and his dumpy shadow, ' Cluggie ' Jock, insist upon sittin'
up wi' yer corp a' nicht, yae sepulchral grunt frae ye, or the
mere liftin' o' a spectral han' against the can'le licht, winna
fail to skail the beagles, an' set yer poinded body free."
" But the ' kistin' ' o' me, Johnny," objected the deceased
man of yarn, " that's the gruesome part o't."
" Toots, Eobin ; yell be as snug as the snuff in yer box
there. What's a coffin after a', but jist a bit o' plain clean
fir, newly aff Johnny Wright's plane, an' wi' a bit cleadin' o'
s. s. 2
18 JOHNNY GOWDY's FUNNY PLOY.
black claith nail't roun't for decency's sake. The case is
gruesome a wee, Bobin, there's no' a cloot o't ; but reject it,
an' what's the consequences ? The deacon '11 pit ye in a
stane coffin in the Tolbooth prison-house, an' my certie, that
wad be waur than the widden yin."
" That seems to be the only cauld alternative, Johnny,"
gravely assented the broken merchant.
At this juncture, the deceased man of yarn's "weeping
widow," who had shortly left the room, returned thither
with a supply of hot toddy, which she placed on the table,
and said —
" Ye'll be nane the waur o' a heart-warmin' tumbler o' toddy
this freezin' nicht, frien's, the mair sae, that the grim subject
ye've in han's aboot as cauld as the air ootside."
The " dram " was indeed a welcome visitant, much more
so, as the deceased laird remarked, than either lang Tarn
Sinclair or the trysted " kist." But they had no more than got
richtly " placed " at it, when in the middle of a further elucida-
tion of Johnny Gowdy's comic " plot," a loud knocking was
heard at the front door outside. In ten seconds Susan
Plooks, the more than middle-aged house domestic, suddenly
thrust her head inside the room, exclaiming —
" Guid save's ! there's a shirra offisher, an' a wee man
wi' cluggs on at the door. The lang chiel has a bit o'
paper in his han', an' talks o' ' law,' an' the ' Tolbooth.' I
tried to keep him oot ; but the lang rascal wad be in, an'
the wee yin wasna the eicht pairt o' an inch behint him."
" What ! " yelled the deceased man of yarn, " are the
beagles in the hoose then, Susan ? "
" Oh, sir, I cood nae keep them oot ; they're stannin' in
the lobby waitin' to ' pin the corp ' they say ; what's yer
orders ? "
" Intae yer bed, Eobin, instantly," exclaimed the snuil-
dealer, " there's no a moment to lose ! "
" Mattie," said the deceased laird, addressing his spouse,
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 19
" gang ye doon an' keep the loons in play a wee while I get
under the blankets, an' — oot o' this weary wilderness o' thorns!"
" Yes, Eobin," said his spouse, " but noo that the enemy's
inside the castle gates, there's naething left us, I fear, but
honourable capitulation ; but I'll insist on guid terms, tak'
ye nae fear."
Obviously there was now no way of escape save in the
carrying through of the grim joke, and to this doubtful end
the inmates of the house practically set themselves, and that,
too, with an energy and determination which promised high
success. The man of yarn was without loss of time denuded of
his vitality, and placed in bed as stiff as a poker, the room
cleared of the table " cheer," and the candles blawn oot
and removed. Thereafter, the twa cronies betook them-
selves to another room to await the hazardous issue, which,
anticipatory of further results was now practically in the
hands of the mistress of the house and her domestic servant
and confidant, Susan Plooks, a strong, muscular wench. In
a very short time Mattie, supported by her confidential
domestic, Susan, was down stairs, and boldly confronting
the two beasdes.
" Weel, gentlemen, what is't ye want ? what's yer bis-
ness here at this sair time ? "
" Oh, it's legal business we're after, mistress — legal
business," Lang Tarn replied. " I'm certainly sorry a bit to
disturb yer hoose at this trying time, but I have a warrant
here (pulling out a piece of paper) to arrest the corpse of —
eh — eh — (consulting the paper) Robert Thomson, late yarn
merchant in the Candleriggs, an' wi' the trusty help o' my
man, Jock, here, I'll dae't, mistress, beyond let or hindrance;
an' let wha likes oppose me, it'll be at their ain personal
risk, for my faith, Jock an' I will soon lay their feet fast in
the auld Tolbooth prison owre-bye."
" Um ! " grunted Jock, suddenly bringing down one of
his cluggs on the floor with an alarming thump, and
20 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
instantly he stuck his two thumbs into the two armpits of his
rather loose-fitting waistcoat, and spreading out his large
hands, threw himself into an attitude closely resembling the
first position in dancing. Now, Jock was the physical
opposite of his master ; for while Tarn was lang and thin,
Jock was wee and stout. Jock, otherwise, was a graphic
Scotch study to such as could enjoy the rich humour of odd
personal character and dress. He was " heid-theekit " with
a Kilmarnock bonnet of great circular dimensions, and which
was a sort of family heirloom, having originally been owned
and worn by Jock's father — a Gleska carter. He was also
stoutly " foundationed " with a pair of enormous cluggs,
which had gained him the expressive nickname of Cluggie
Jock, while the face, beneath his bonnet, had the consistency
and very much the appearance of a well-boiled bread pudding.
Eegarding Jock's master, Tarn Sinclair, he was a tall thin
pike of a man, with a cadaverous countenance and a pair of
small grey eyes set under bushy heavy eyebrows of sinister
aspect. Tarn had the sight of only one eye, having, it was
said, caught a fatal inflammation in the other by looking
through "keyholes" in the ardent pursuit of his peculiar
vocation.
" "Where is your husband's body, madam ? " authori-
tatively demanded Sinclair, " I must know, and at once ! "
" Dinna tell the loons whaur, for their impidence, mis-
tress ; I wad daur them first ; at the warst it's but twa to
twa," and Susan made the dishcloot fly aloft in the face of
Jock, who jumped in his cluggs with anger, and once more
threateningly shook the legal " snitchers " at her, grinning
angry defiance.
" Let me ' tie ' that woman's hands, Sinclair," shouted
Jock, no longer able to hold his temper, " she's a wild
' assault and battery ' jaud ! "
" A what ? " yelled the stung domestic, " ye'd ca' me a
saut and peppery jaud, wad ye ! O'd, my wee man, I'll saut
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 21
and pepper ye ! " and flying at Jock, she seized him by
the collar, and most vigorously clooted his chafts
with her unromantic weapon of defence — the " wat dish-
cloot."
Instantly there was a mixed and general scuffle, with
nervous screamings and loud cries for help, which hurriedly
brought out the twa cronies from their place of hiding.
The sight that there presented itself was highly ludicrous
and amusing. In the centre of the lobby Jock and the
valiant domestic were in hard grips, and Susan, who had
the best end of the stick, was energetically " clashin' awa' '
at poor Jock's pudding cheeks, who was in turn making
violent efforts to put her determined wrists within his
dreaded snitch ers. At the far end of the lobby, near the
door, the house dog, a large mastiff was successfully keeping
Lang Tarn at bay in a corner — Tarn excitedly " fechtin' "
the furious brute back with his stick and yelling to all
and sundry to " cry the desperate britt aff ! " In the rescue
of. Sinclair from the dog, Jock himself had been fatally
neglected, and on looking round they found poor " Cluggie "
completely hors-dc-combat — Susan, the valiant domestic,
having laid him across her massive knees in real nursery
fashion, while she was heartily belabouring him with the
awful " dishcloot " on that particular part of the human
body where, according to Lord Bacon, a kick hurts honour
very much.
" Come, come, gentlemen," began the snuff-dealer in a
mollifying tone of voice, " this is a most unseemly squabble,
an' a corp in the hoose ! "
" I am here to arrest that same corpse ! " rejoined
Sinclair, reproducing his warrant.
" Oh, ye'll get it, an' welcome," replied the other ; " but
for decency's sake, gentlemen, please to consider the feelings
of the bereaved widow."
Hearing this, Mattie, the bereaved widow, lifted her
22 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
apron to her face and wiped away a rebellious tear. Susan,
the valiant domestic, would very probably have followed
suit with the " dishcloot," but remembering to what an
ignominious use it had but a moment before been put in the
fundamental threshin' of Cluggie Jock, she loftily abstained
from its use.
" Eegarding that," said Sinclair, "I must see the corpse, so
that I may know it's in the house."
"Ye'll certainly see the body, Mr. Sinclair," said the
bereaved widow ; " but ye'll maybe exkase my presence.
Mr. Gowdy 'ill show ye Eobin's corp," and with the corner
of her apron she wiped away a second rebellious tear.
" This way, gentlemen," said Johnny Gowdy, and leading
the way up, he entered the room, which was but dimly
lighted by a single halfpenny " dip," and drawing aside the
curtains he showed the deceased laird lying dimly dis-
covered, with an ashen countenance (well rubbed with flour)
and an expression of repose on his honest countenance,
which plainly proclaimed him to be now at peace with all
men, and especially with — Deacon Spruell ! He then
quickly retired, leaving the two beagles alone in the room.
" Weel, Jock, my man," began Sinclair, " here we at
length are, there's the corpse, an' neither deil nor bogle 'ill
lift it frae my sicht this nicht. Did ye hear what auld
Tamson dee'd o', Jock ? " directing his thumb over his left
shoulder in the direction of the corpse.
" I didna jist hear," answered Jock, " death's been sae fell
busy this winter that folk's no noticin' every case aboot.
doors. There's a poo'er o' deaths takin' place in the toon
enoo ; folk are deein' noo that never dee'd afore. Oh, it's
nae lauchin' maitter to some folks, I can tell ye. Eh, but
that's a wild win' that's blawin' ootside. Did ye hear that
' slash tae ' that the muckle airn gate at the closs-mooth
gaed the noo ? "
" Are ye frichtet for the corpse, Jock, or what ? "
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 23
" Me frichtet ! no a bit ; there's a big lump o' the man
here," and Jock valiantly struck his breast.
" Well, Jock, we'll gang below ; the kitchen 'ill be a heap
mair comfortable than this chilly room ; but bring doon the
bottle and the glasses wi' ye."
" Yes, I'll — I'll — I'll bring the bottle alang wi' me, if ye
but tarry a second."
" Follow up then, quick," Sinclair shouted back from the
landing, carrying the lantern before him to save his
footing.
" Hy ! hy ! hy ! " yelled Jock, ramping his cluggs on
the floor as loudly as he could, " come back, Tammas, an' no
leave me to fecht my way oot o' a dark room, wi' naething
hamelier than a cauld corp in't ! Hy, Tammas, whaur
are ye ? "
" At the stair-fit, Jock ; what are ye waitin' on ? " cried
back Sinclair, briskly pushing his way towards the kitchen.
" Lordsake, if the lang loon hasna left me to graip my
way oot ! My lamp awa,' tae, an' my bonnet to look for !
Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! "
To simple-minded and credulous " Cluggie " the situation,
comic in one view of it, was tragic in the extreme. The
room was dark, the hour near midnight when ghosts are
most abroad, the rising wind was moaning around the
house like an unquiet spirit, and he — Jock — was alone in
the room with a corpse ! Cautiously, and with bated breath
and quickened pulse, he stepped about, searching for his
lost bonnet. Once, nay twice ! he thought he heard a groan,
as if coming from the bottom of some damp underground
cellar ; a sort of indescribable sound, the expression, ob-
viously, of a being in pain. He started back in alarm.
" Lr — Lord — sake ! " he ejaculated, his knees beginning to
sink under him, " talk aboot nice quate corpses ? There's a
lot o' lowse mistakes in the warld ! S — S — Sinclair ! !" he
shouted aloud, but the only response he heard was the wind
24 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
outside shaking the old casements and slamming with weird
power the big iron gate at the "closs-mouth." His over-
whelming inspiration was to cut the spot at once, but then
— his lost bonnet! There would have been a fine handle for
Sinclair to joke with! His bonnet was not much in itself,
although an heirloom in the family ; but his courage, nay his
very character as a man, and his reputation as a sheriff-
officer's assistant was at stake ! He couldn't, wouldn't run !
The bonnet must be recovered, and his courage established at
whatever cost ! He looked about once more. Ah ! yonder it
was ! a dark lump, as seen in the dark, at the end of a long-
white something. Under the mutual inspiration of native
courage and raw whisky Jock had for the moment either for-
gotten or become heedless of the presence of the corpse. So
he stepped hastily towards the object, and seized — the dead
man's cowl !
"Wha's that!!!" said a low, deep, sepulchural voice,
obviously that of the coffined corpse, "wha's that!"
" Ah ! — ah ! ! — ah ! ! !" yelled the terror-smitten Jock, with
chops fallen widely apart, and wheeling about, he dashed
blindly out of the spirit-haunted room, reaching the stair-
foot in three splendid leaps, where he lay for some moments
yelling — " Murder ! ghosts ! help, Sinclair ! help ! " In a
couple of seconds Cluggie's frantic cries for help brought
the astonished Sinclair to the stairfoot.
" Oh, the Lord help us, Sinclair I what a fricht I got !
D'ye ken, the corp spoke to me ! "
" Ye don't mean it, Jock ? " said Sinclair.
" I'm tellin' you its as true's yer stannin' there," earnestly
replied Jock, his teeth rattling in his heid like dice in a
box.
"Fudge, fudge, that'll no dae, Jock," rejoined Sinclair.
"The dram's been makin' ye baith hear an see dooble this
niclit."
"Dooble or single, Sinclair. I only wish I saw the auld
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 25
tyke's corp daicently at rest in the Eamshorn kirk-
yaircl."
Ah ! there it was again ! a noise as of someone walking
about in the dead man's shoes overhead !
"There's dootless somebody in the hoose, Jock," said
Sinclair, getitng out a short baton emblematic of both auth-
ority and defence.
" There's nae doot o' that, Tammas ; it's either the corp
or its unlaid ghost. Tak' my advice, Sinclair, and fling
the job up."
" Never !" rejoined Sinclair, valiant to outward appearance,
but tremblingly alive to the peculiar eeriness, not to say
horror of the situation. " Fling the job up ! an' a' because
a starving cat has got intae the hoose an's playin' Herry
wi' the collops in the pantry. Never ! my reputation, Jock,
my reputation ! "
" Life before reputation ony day, Sinclair," sincerely said
Jock. " I'm for hame oot o' this onyway."
" What ! desert the post o' duty, Jock ? Never ! Come,
sir, lift up your lamp, an' follow me ! I command ye!"
"Gang on then, Sinclair, in the name o' Beelzebub!
Gang on an' I'll— I'll— I'll follow!"
Eeaching the foot of the staircase, Sinclair, who was most
valiant in leading the van, suddenly stopped short, and
turning to his terrified man, Jock, he ordered him to ascend
the staircase first.
"Na, na, Sinclair, that cock 'ill no fecht. Ye're the
captain o' the company ; gang ye up first, an' I'll follow."
"What! frightened, Jock? insubordination? terrification?
not possible?"
"Faith ay, Sinclair, I'm no gaun to recklessly risk my
nerves, no to say my very life, for eighteenpence ; I'll drap
the barrow first."
" Coward ! follow me ! " and therewith, they began to
ascend the stair leading to the deceased merchant's bed-room.
26 JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY.
At this critical moment, the corpse was seen by both in
the act of descending the staircase in its "deid-shirt."
"Good Lord, deliver us?" yelled Jock and, flinging down
his lantern, he precipitately fled the spot, reaching the stair-
foot in a sort of rolled -up lump.
Nor was the boastful Sinclair long behind him. Endors-
ing his assistant's active proposition, he promptly seconded
it, without even the thought of proposing an amendment.
"Is't hame or the Tolbooth?" hurriedly asked Jock as he
gathered together his mixed up limbs and senses.
" The Tolbooth, in the name o' the police ! " as quickly
answered Sinclair.
In a trice the pair were once more on their lost feet, and
were just on the point of making a satisfactory exit, when
the large mastiff — which had been sleeping below the-
kitchen bed — rushed to the door, wakened by the tumult,
and judging the escaping pair as robbers, the dog made a
fierce seizure of Jock's hindquarters tearing away in one-
large mouthful the whole "seat" of his breeches, their owner
being just saved from serious bodily injury by the prompt
snap of the closing door.
" Jock," said Sinclair, when the pair had gained the safety
of the Candleriggs plainstanes, " it's a mercy ye got yer
threshin' frae big Shusie before that thief o' a dowg bit the
hinner en' oot o' yer breeches, eh?"
"Urn!" snarled Jock, "the dowg's the warst o't."
Sinclair and his man, Jock, never completely recovered the
"fricht" they got that night, and they were both stout
believers in resurrected ghosts till death.
As for Eobin Tamson, he never came to life again in —
Glasgow. But an awfu' close likeness to the deceased
man o' yarn was for years afterwards in business co-partner-
ship with a son of his in Greenock in the wholesale sugar
way, and if ye but "heard the breath" of auld Johnny
Gowdy's grandson on the subject, owre a toddy-dram, as I
JOHNNY GOWDY'S FUNNY PLOY. 27
have often heard, he could maybe tell ye a thing or twa on
the matter that wad afford ye anither laugh.
Eegarding Jock's "rived awa'" breeches, the "breach," I
have heard was never legally repaired ; although Jock, I
understand, filed a case against somebody in connec-
tion therewith in the Camlachie Court o' Session. The
case, like the damaged bit in Jock's breeks, was never
satisfactorily closed.
Jock, however, pretty successfully mended matters by
marrying a widow, getting thereby a new pair o' auld
breeks, formerly the property o' her late guidman. The
widow's former "man" having been a fine fat fodgel Eug'len
Bailie in his day, wi' a wame like a military drum, the
breeks, as ye may guess, were a fine, lowse, comfortable fit,
Jock wore them till his dying day, and left them as a legacy
to his widow, recommending them as a useful marriage
present to her third man.
THE MENDIN 0' JOHNNY MACFARLAN'S
LUM HAT.
It was a staggering blow to Mrs. Macfarlan's pride as a
respectable house-wife, when she was told that her next-door
neibor and enemy, Mrs. Howdie, had just tooken a hoose
at " the Lairgs " for a hale week ; the more so, that she
Mrs. Macfarlan was expected to stay at home during the
Fair holidays, contenting hersel' wi' a penny voyage to
Govan, or a hurl in the car the length o' Anderston and
back again to the fit o' the auld Gleska Gallowgate. But
that would never do !
Mrs. Macfarlan was a woman of considerable resource,
and without unnecessary argument or delay, she at once
resolved on checkmating Mrs. Howdie's " nesty, upsettin'
pride," and constituting herself equal to the best o' them.
28 THE mendin' o' johnny macfaklan's lum hat.
In this spirit Mrs. Macfarlan made up her rnind to be
conveniently " no-weel," so as to gain her point of getting a
hale fortnicht doon the watter, nae less, and when once
Mrs. Macfarlan, had definitely made up her mind on a dis-
cussed point — domestic or otherwise — her husband, Johnny
Macfarlan, was about as good as nobody by way of a
resisting buffer.
On awakening next morning Mrs. Macfarlan, poor woman,
discovered that " her puir nerves were a' upset," and that
naething but a complete change o' air would bring her
round to herself again.
Johnny thocht different, and maintained, with consider-
able show of reason and argument, that her trouble was
mostly imaginary, and that she would be all right next day.
But Mrs. Macfarlan had determinedly made up her mind
to be ill, and ill she accordingly continued to remain, in
spite of all Johnny's proffered herbs and arguments.
There was, therefore, nothing for it but just to submit,
and make arrangements for giving poor Mrs. Macfarlan a
hale fortnicht doon the watter. For no a single day less
than " a hale fortnicht " would Mrs. Macfarlan under the
circumstances consent to take.
It was thus agreed that Johnny's better-half and her
family should proceed to Eothesay at the beginning of the
Fair week, and should stay over the week following, as a
means of restoring her suddenly upset health.
The next important matter was the arranging of the
general family wardrobe, and that was a big job to handle ;
for the general family wardrobe, it must be confessed, re-
quired almost entire renewal, from Johnny's auld " lum
hat " down to the wee'st bairn's shoon ! As for Mrs. Mac-
farlan herself, she was jist on the parish for dress ; and
Johnny, poor man,wasin a somewhat similar pathetic condition.
The situation was therefore very trying, not to say
critical. The state of the family purse was anxiously
THE MENDIN' O' JOHNNY MACFARLAN'S LUM HAT. 29
looked into, and it was found that after allowing so much
for lodgings at Bothesay, so much for steamboat fares, and
so much for loss of wages, there was only the limited
sum of 7s. 9^d. to renew the general family wardrobe so as to
make a presentable turn oot,and thereby spite Mrs. Macfarlan's
twa bitter enemies and stair-heid neibors, Mrs. Howdie and
Mrs. Draggletails.
Johnny, however, did not collapse in weak despair. The
situation was indeed desperate, but was not beyond re-
sourceful ingenuity and hope. Johnny had a native genius
for arithmetical geometry, and it was destined to come in
handy on this occasion, in the subdivision, extension, aDd
minute expenditure of the precious 7 s. 9^d., which was all
the money that was at the immediate disposal of Mrs.
Macfarlan, the worthy domestic treasurer.
" As for me," said Johnny, " I can gang vera weel as
I am. My ' wardrobe's ' no that ill."
" Yer hat's jist deplorable," answered Mrs. Macfarlan,
" it needs turnin', like mines."
" An' nae shame tae't, Betty ; it's nine-an'-twenty years,
come Fair Friday, since I first wore it at oor waddin'. But,
Betty, lass, ye surely dinna mean me to wear my auld lum
hat at the coast — eh ? "
" An' what for no, ye're surely no ettlin' to put on that
ugly twa-faced kep (cap) wi' the skip baith back an' fore ?
If that's sae, I'll no stir yae fit oot o' the hoose. No, no,
Johnny Macfarlan ! the neebors maun see that ye're a weel-
tooken-care-o', gaucy, respectable guidman ; that ye've a
wife that studies ye, an' that ye've a dress-hat to pit on wi'
the best o' them, when occasion demands it."
" But it's in a deplorable condition, ye say," argued
Johnny, " an' what's the yise o' sayin' ony mair aboot it ? "
" It can be mended ; Johnny ; my summer ' straw ' has
been turn't twice't, an' gumm'd times withoot number ; so
can your auld hat, Johnny."
30 THE mendin' o' johnny macfaklan's lum hat.
" But a man canna vera weel turn an' auld hat," retorted
Johnny ; " an' as for gumming 't, why, of course, that's quite
oot o' the question."
" Oo, but it disna maybe exactly need turnin', Johnny ; a
bit polish wi' the blacklead brush micht restore its original
gloss."
" Go you tae Dumbarton, Mrs. Macfarlan ! Blacklead
a Christian man's hat ! Great Christopher ! D'ye want
to mak' a lookin'-gless o' the bowl o't ? "
Oh, weel, Johnny, we'll see, we'll see," rejoined Mrs.
Macfarlan, in a mollifying tone of voice. " Ye're an ingenious
workman, Johnny Macfarlan, an' ye'll best see what can be
dune for yer hat when it's hauled oot wi' ither orras frae
ablow the bed. But yer best hat ye must wear at the coast,
mind you that ! or no a single fit will I stir frae Gleska,
doon the watter, or no doon the watter ! "
The matter being thus summarily settled by Johnny's
" ruling elder," the twa set oot on a visit to Paddy's Market
on the Saturday nicht following, alang wi' some nine or ten
of their twelve or thirteen weans, to spend in necessaries
the 7s. 9^-d. at their disposal.
Mrs. Macfarlan carried the purse, and Johnny carried the
umbrella — and the wean. Mrs. Macfarlan therefore held the
best end of the stick, and maintained undisputed possession
of the same throughout the evening.
Reaching Paddy's Market, the display there shown was
very ample, and at some points — particularly the bonnet-
stands — was perfectly dazzling, and, indeed, " quite
temptashous," as Mrs. Macfarlan graphically put it. And,
electrified to the length of her ten finger tips, Mrs. Mac-
farlan nervously clutched her purse, as if she feared the
immediate barter of its precious contents. The bonnets, in
sober truth were just " quite lovely," and fair " brocht the
watter tae the een."
" Eh, man, Johnny, jist you look at that ! — there's a
THE MENDIN' O' JOHNNY MACFAKLAN'S LUM HAT. 31
perfect love o' a bonnet ! — jist my rale taste ! Eh, but I'd
like a bonnet like that ! "
" Ay," drawled Johnny, " green silk, an' a white ostrich
feather ! Is't no jist raither a wee lood in the colours for a
woman o' your age, Betty ? "
" Oh, ay ! onything's guid enough for me — yer puir
neglected wife. I suppose ye'd ha'e the heart to see me
wearin' an auld bauchle on my heid, wi' a blacking brush
stuck on the tap o't for a feather, ye heartless monster that
ye are ! But I'll see the price o' that bonnet this vera nicht ! "
" Oh, buy't if ye like ; I'm jake-easy on't, Betty."
Mrs. Macfarlan did not require much jibing to put her am-
bitious desire into execution. She at once priced the article,
and afterwards proceeded to haggle about the purchase of
it — a proceeding which the philosophic Johnny, profiting by
former experiences, was able to eye with easy indifference.
Johnny stood aside, and for the space of fifteen minutes
Mrs. Macfarlan contested the price demanded ; and, at
last, as Johnny more than guessed, he saw the " sale-wife "
roll up the identical bonnet, and coolly hand it over to his
worthy better-half.
" Weel, ye've bocht it, Betty," was Johnny's resigned
salutation as he stepped towards his elated spouse.
" Ay, Johnny ; an' a splendid bargain I've gotten o't.
She wanted 15 s. for't, as weel she micht ; but I focht her
doon to 5s. lid. — a perfect thief's bargain at the price!"
"Let me see — 5s. lid. oot o' 7s. 9|d," rejoined Johnny,
" that leaves only Is. 10|d. to renew me an' the weans !"
Having thus secured for herself a grand new bonnet, Mrs.
Macfarlan warmly insisted on Johnny at once taking in hand
the repair and renewal of his ain auld lum hat, jist by way
of snoddin' himself up a bit, as a man with a defective hat,
she maintained, could never be considered " dressed," nae
maitter what was his "pit on." So that same night, Johnny
instructed his worthy better-half to bring forth the hat.
32 THE mendin' o' johnny macfaklan's lum hat.
Johnny broadly surveyed it ; saw plainly its wasted nap,
its long-departed style, its perished gloss, and the numerous
long-standing cracks and bashes, which gave its entire cir-
cular surface the configuration of a well-defined map of
Lanarkshire.
" Weel, what think ye o't, Johnny ? "
" Weel, I'm no a prood man, Betty ; but I'd prefer a hat
showing fewer bashes, with a little more gloss on its surface,
and with a less allowance of ' rim.' Besides, Betty, the rim,
ye see's, parting company wi' the body o't," and Johnny r
holding it up to the gaslight, showed truly that the rim was
all but parted from the body.
" I'll shoo't thegither wi' a bit black threid, Johnny," sug-
gested Mrs. Macfarlan.
" No ; I ken a better way than that, Betty ; I'll sort it
mysel' wi' a bit gutta percha and a wee taet solution."
" Gutta percha an' solution, Johnny ! " exclaimed Mrs,
Macfarlan, with unfeigned astonishment.
" Ay ; gutta percha an' solution, Betty ! Jist ye haud on a
wee, an' I'll show ye a bit clever magic," and at once Johnny
began preparations for the mending of his auld lum hat,
having some odd pieces of gutta percha at hand.
A guid strong fire being one of the first requisites of
success, that commodity was put within his use without loss
of time. Mrs. Macfarlan put some fresh coals on the fire
while the bairns vigorously blew the bellows turn about.
As for Johnny himself, he was actively successful in get-
ting a'thing ready for instant operation. In fact, so
methodically and so exhaustively did Johnny go about the
business, that his finished arrangements amounted to an
obvious genius for organisation and would have secured his
promotion at the Admiralty Office if sufficiently made
known in that quarter.
The hat under repair was carefully and minutely " pros-
pected," and the situation accurately studied. The rim, it
THE MENDIN' 0' JOHNNY MACFAELAN'S LUM HAT. 33
was true, was all but bidding good-bye to the body of the
hat, but a thin strip of gutta percha on the top of a " lick of
solution " would " cling the twa thegither nicely," and make
" a grand, firm mend o't. " So, at least, thought Johnny, and
possessing the full courage of his sanguine convictions he at
once began active mending operations.
The fire was now blazing finely, and sending out the heat
of a miniature blast furnace. A small kitchen poker was
rammed into the heart o't, while a fire-aim was sitting on
the tap o't, and both articles were already glowing with
positive heat. On the end of a fork the auldest laddie was
holding against the heat of the fire a small bit of gutta
percha, which was already curling and blistering into grand
workable condition ; while Johnny himself was busy
" straiking " the melted solution roun' the inner edge of the
rim of his hat with the point of his right fore finger, pre-
paratory to firmly gluin't thegither with the gutta percha.
The rest of the family were surveying operations from the
centre of the floor with mixed exclamations of wonder and
delight, while Mrs. Macfarlan was busy shooin' some " tears "
in their newly-washed and ironed frocks and " peanies,"
in view of their coasting excursion on Fair Monday coming.
" Hand me that gutta percha, Bobbie," said Johnny, as he
quickly but carefully put down the hat. " Quick ! that's it ! "
Getting the soft gutta in his hand, he rolled it into a
long thin strip ; and without a moment's loss of time twined it
carefully round the bottom of the hat where the rim joined.
" Noo, Bobby, the poker oot o' the fire," continued Johnny,
warming to his work like a true mechanic. "Ay, that's
something like a heat ; its jist perfect white. Whew ! that
was a bleeze ! " he added, as the resinous gutta broke into
flame under the strong heat of the poker.
Again and again Johnny applied the poker by way of
smoothing the "jine," but invariably the melting gutta
flamed up and caused him to desist.
s. s. 3
34 THE mendin' o' johnny macfarlan's lum hat.
" It'll prove a grand mend, Johnny," Mrs. Mafcarlan ven-
tured to remark, " if only the hat hauds out."
" Hauds oot ? " repeated Johnny, looking up inquiringly.
" Ay, disna tak' fire like, Johnny."
" Nae fear o' that, Betty ; it's already been on fire an' oot
again six or eicht times the nicht. Hand me owre that aim
aff the fire, Bobbie, an' lift it wi' a wat cloth roun' the
handle, for I see even the handle's bleezin' het."
Bobby obeyed his parent's instructions to the letter, and
Johnny at once applied the whole flat of the red-hot iron to
the side of the hat by way of giving it a final polish and
" nice general smooth-owre," as he styled it.
In a moment the sottering gutta-percha broke once more
into flame, and, owing to the heated state of the hat and
the extra surface of the hot iron applied, the flame refused
to be puffed out. Almost instantly the whole hat was
in a blaze, and completely upset by the cries of the
children and the screams of Mrs. Macfarlan, Johnny losing
his nerve threw the blazing hat holus bolus at the back of
the fire. The disastrous result was certainly not reckoned
on in the remotest way. The great heat of the fire instantly
converted the whole hat into a mass of oily pulp, and with
a sort of explosive puff it seemed to go bodily up the
chimney in one mass of flame. Here was certainly an
unlooked-for catastrophe, bad enough in itself certainly, but
trifling when compared with the alarming sequel which
immediately followed. In two seconds it was evident that
the " lum " was on fire !
" Eh, mercy me, Johnny Macfarlan ! what's this ye've
dune ? " screamed Mrs. Macfarlan, throwing her two hands!
aloft in perfect horror, " is't possible the lum's on fire ? "
"Possible, Betty; it's a self-evident fact; spontaneous
combustion, Betty, or something o' that sort, resulting frae
a suddenly absorbed auld hat ! " and the highly philosophic
Johnny struck an attitude which looked an ingenious com-
THE MENDIN' 0' JOHNNY MACFARLAN'S LUM HAT. 35
c
promise between comedy and pathetically bleeding melo-
drama.
"The guid keep us a'!" cried aloud Mrs. Macfarlan,
" we'll a' be burnt alive, as sure as we're breathin' ! Oh,
I wish I was in Abraham's blessed bosum this nicht ! "
" Confound Abraham an' you baith, Mrs. Macfarlan ! "
was Johnny's spirited rejoinder. " Bring me the saut-box
an' a pair o' blankets till I damp oot the lum ; and look
alive, Betty, before the hale land's on fire ! "
There was -in truth not a moment to lose. The " lum "
was not only on fire, but was positively roaring with flames
for its entire length — from the bottom upwards. In fact,
so powerfully was the chimney in flames that the whole
house was shaking with the vibration caused by the roaring
Iraught that fiercely swept it.
" When did ye last get that vent soopit ? " demanded
Johnny, as Mrs. Macfarlan handed him the saut-box, his
little soul roused into heroic authority by the exciting
catastrophe; "when, I ask, did ye last get that vent
soopit ? "
" Only the ither day, Johnny."
" When, I simply ask ? " re-demanded Johnny, vigorously
thrusting at the same time several successive handfuls of
salt up the chimney.
" Only aboot three years since."
" Is that a', Betty ? I was guessing it hadna seen a
sweep's brush this century. Bring me a pail o' watter, an'
the blankets ; the saut's worse than yisless."
" What, my guid Ayrshire blankets ! Are ye clean daft,
Jbhnny Macfarlan ? I'll bring ye the watter, but no yae
inch o' the blankets ye'll get to spread owre thae jambs, no
even if it was to save the hale land frae the flames ! "
" But I must get them," insisted Johnny, making a dash
at the articles named.
" But ye'll no get them, Johnny," as firmly retorted Mrs.
36 THE mendin' o' johnny macfaklan's lum hat.
Macfarlan, seizing at them in turn. And thus arose a
domestic tug-of-war, as to the possession and disposal of the
bed blankets, the issue of which, in view of Mrs. Macfarlan's
superior size and weight, could neither be of doubtful nor
protracted contest. But the heroic Johnny, if heavily out-
weighted, was certainly not out-spirited. He was, in point
of resolute courage, quite equal to the trying occasion.
" Let go my blankets, Johnny Macfarlan ! " cried his
large spouse, forgetting in her passion the calamity which
was raging in the " lum," and pulling at her end of the dis-
puted blankets most vigorously.
" I'll tear them in twa first ! " retorted Johnny, equally
oblivious to the progress of the conflagration in the chimney,
also pulling with all his strength at his end of the stick
— « I'll — ni — I'll tear them in twa first ! "
" Yell what, Johnny Macfarlan ? O'd I'll tear ye ! " And
putting the whole weight and strength of her body into the
tug, she whipped up Johnny clean off his feet and de-
posited him with a lightning swish at the opposite side
of the kitchen. Johnny held determinedly on by the dis-
puted blankets, however, and was presently swished back
again to his former latitude, thus forcibly illustrating the
Highland sergeant's military command, " As you wass ! "
" If it's a tumblin' circus clown ye mean to mak' o' me,
Betty," gasped Johnny, " I'll gie ye some stiff exercise."
" O'd, I'll clown ye ! " retorted Mrs. Macfarlan ; and swish
— Johnny was once more deposited on the opposite side
of the kitchen, much in the manner of a fly at the end of a
fishing rod which is being actively whipped by an enthu-
siastic angler.
Suddenly, while the pair still violently wrangled, a
rumbling noise was heard in the chimney, as if a bag of
gravel was being emptied down the passage, and, the next
moment, a pour of soot and water told too truly that some
over-active sweep had descried the fire from his dingy
the mendin' o' johnny macfarlan's lum iiat. 37
residence " up a back closs " somewhere, and that here was
the frightful result — half a hundredweight of soot on the
floor, liquidized with a bucket of water, which was quickly
followed by a second, and even a third discharge, until poor
Mrs. Macfarlan's abused floor was " jist fair soomin' ! "
Struck with dismay, Mrs. Macfarlan yelled in perfect
horror, while Johnny, equally astounded, let go his hold of
the nether end of the blankets and blankly "glowered."
The blankets thus released from Johnny's grasp got badly
trailed in the soot and wet, which fair put the cope stane
on Mrs. Macfarlan's accumulated distress, and she accord-
ingly did everything hysterical except " fent " ; and, but for
the arrival on the scene of the offending sweep, she would •
very likely have chosen to conclude the amusing comedy
in that legitimate feminine fashion.
" Three shullings, if you please, Mrs.," said the sweep,
wiping some highly imaginary drops of sweat from his
brow, "an' I'm entitled to it by law, as ye ken weel
enouch."
" For what?" replied Mrs. Macfarlan, "for fylin' the hoose ?
Clear oot o' here as quick's ye like, ye British nigger, if ye
pit ony value on a hale skin ; clear out, I say ! "
" Three shullings for pittin' oot the fire — that's what I
require," and the sweep stood largely on his small dignity.
" O'd, I'll three shullings ye, ye confounded vagabond !
fylin' my hoose for nae ends nor purpose, an' to croon a',
wantin' peyment for the impidence ! O'd, I'll three shullings
ye ! " and flinging aside her blankets she caught up a hearth-
broom and energetically pursued the astonished sweep round
the apartment, who escaped her vigorous wrath only by
seizing Johnny bodily, and so making a protecting buffer
of him in warding off the blows dealt by his exasperated
spouse.
" I'll summons ye for the money, auld wife," cried back the
defeated sweep, as he made a hurried retreat from the place.
38 THE mendin' o' johnny macfarlan's lum hat.
" Auld wife ! " ca'in' me an auld wife ! " yelled Mrs. Mac-
farlau, " an' me only thirty next Marti'mas ! "
" Ye're sixty if ye're a day ! and a dour auld Turk intae
the bargain," was the sweep's parting shot.
Mrs. Macfarlan made a quick rush at her sooty reviler,
but he was gone.
" He's awa' to tak' oot a summons," remarked Johnny, in
a tone of voice touched with alarm.
" Let him gang, an' I'll mak' the chiel wha tries to serve
it on us dance the Hieland fling on a hot plate ! But, eh
me ! it's my guid Aryshire blankets I'm like to greet owre,"
continued Mrs. Macfarlan, " they're fair ruined wi' soot an'
dirty watter."
"An' what aboot my lost lum hat, Mrs. Macfarlan ? The
blankets are there in substance, as ye see, but whaur's my
hat ? I ask, and defeated Echo answers — ' Where ? '
" Never mind yer hat, Johnny," said Mrs. Macfarlan, con-
solingly, " I'll knit ye a grand new worset Tarn o' Shanter,
wi' a red toorie on't as big as a turkey's egg, an', dressed in
that, Johnny, the ekwal o' ye 'ill no be seen doon the watter
next week between Gourock an' the Cumbraes."
And so ended the mending o' Johnny Macfarlan's auld
lum hat.
THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE.
Davie Doons, and his wife, " Coal Katie," first began the
business of selling coals in a very humble way. Davie's
back was for long both " cairt an' cuddy " in the carrying out
of the customers' coals, but, orders increasing through the
business push of his wife, Davie at length managed to purchase
a second-hand cuddy for seven-and-sixpence, and making
THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE. 39
another purchase of an oblong soap-box from a wholesale
grocery store, he got it mounted on a pair of home-made
wheels, and henceforth publicly drove about his own con-
veyance.
He named his newly-purchased cuddy, Katie, after his wife,
and the beast's keep cost him little or nothing. In the
course of the week an auld straw bass which some housewife
had thrown on the street, or anything of a similar sort,
would serve the humble animal with a good meal, washed
down with a long drink of cold water from the horse-troch.
Every morning, too, Davie bought the cuddy a new scone,
rubbed her auld nose wi't, and ate it himsel' ! while every
Sunday, Katie was led out to " grass " on some neighbouring
park, getting her stomach corrected by a free feed of nettles,
Scotch thistles, and docken leaves.
When the minister looked Davie up — which event
usually happened about yince in the twa years — he always
excused himself for non-attendance at the kirk by declaring
that business was sae bad and the profit on coals so small
that he couldn't afford to buy Sunday clothes — unless the
minister consented to admit him in his native full-dress suit
of coal-gum blacks ! In this way Davie dodged along as
best he could, and with his pipe in his cheek, a gospel tract
in his waistcoat pocket, and a hunderwecht of coals on his
back, he thought himself pretty fairly provisioned for both
worlds. Things went on in this style, cannily enough, until
one day the poor cuddy set down one of her fore feet on a
piece of old wood with a five-inch roosty nail sticking
through it.
" That's a sair job for baith me and the cuddy," remarked
Davie, as he bent down to pull out the nail. The forecast
turned out too true.
On the third day the cuddy, it was noticed, limped badly
when in the cairt, and by the end of the same week she was
a fair cripple, laid up in the stable. Davie was much put
40 . THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE.
about at the accident. He might have spared his wife for a
week, he thought, but not so well the indispensable cuddy.
Davie, however, struggled on as best he could, poulticing the
cuddy's disabled foot, and carrying out the customers' coals
on his ain honest back, when one day he met the minister in
the middle of the road.
" Well, David," began the minister, " how are you keeping,
and how's all at home ? "
" Weel," replied Davie, letting his coal-bag swing down on
the ground, " I'm aboot or'nar' mysel', but things are a' wrang
at hame — Katie's in the way o' deein', I fear."
" Dear me," said the minister, " I'm truly concerned to
hear of this."
"And so am I, sir," replied Davie, scratching his toozie
head, " It's a sair mornin' for me when Katie's no fit for her
wark, for then, ye see, I've got to cairry the customers' coals
aboot on my ain back," and here Davie sympathetically
rubbed first one shoulder and then the other.
" Dear me, David, I'm quite astonished to hear you speak
thus," said the minister, who very naturally thought that
Davie was referring to his wife, instead of the disabled
cuddy ; " do you really make Katie carry about the customers'
coals on her back ? "
" Well, no jist exactly on her back," replied Davie, " but
she pu's them alang the streets in the cairt."
" David ! David ! " exclaimed the minister, "thus to abuse
your helpmeet and best friend ! "
" Ye may weel say that, sir ! my helpmeet and best
frien', indeed. She's wrocht lang and sair for me, and has
cost me but little for food. She's a truly teuch auld yaud o'
a beast to pu' in a cairt, an's worth twa pownies ony day."
" David, my dear man, do not, I pray thee, speak of her
in that way," said the minister, with averted look.
" It's the candid, even-down truth I'm tellin' ye," replied
Davie, " I'm gie'n her nae mair than's her due. She's been
THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE. 41
a touch, willin', workin' auld yaud since the first day I
had her "
" Why, my good man," said the minister warmly, " you
speak of Katie as if she was. some old horse."
" She's worth twa o' ony horse on the road, I'm tellin' ye.
Pit her atween the twa trams, and I'll bate my bonnet she
pu's alangside o' ony horse or pownie in the coal trade."
" Yes, yes, David," said the minister, " but, pray, tell me,
what is the matter with Katie ? "
" Weel, we was oot thegither wi' the coals, ye see (the
minister nodded), and she set her foot doon on a five-inch
roosty nail. The plaguey thing has beel't up to the vera
shank bane, and I'm deid fear't she'll crap owre't."
" And I have never heard of this till now, David ? " said
the minister, reprovingly.
" Oh, ye ken fine she's no a kirk-gaun animal," replied
Davie, with a quiet laugh. " She's a teuch auld yaud atween
the cairt trams, as I before remarked, but what's her religious
value is mair than I could say."
" She has a soul to save, David," said the minister.
" Weel," stammered Davie, " that may be so, but I'm
doubtfu' if she's aware o't." And Davie, tickled with the
humour of the thought, " clauted " the back of his head, and
glanced sideways at the minister with a twist in his face
like a ravelled hank of thread.
" Have you had a doctor to see her, David ? " next en-
quired the minister.
" If it's the veterinary surgeon ye mean, he waclna waste
tuppence worth o' medicine on siccan an auld wrocht-oot
animal as she is, I fear. She can pu' a cairt o' coals when
weel, but beyond that she's worth jist naething ! "
" She's surely worth praying for, David ? " said the
minister.
"Weel, sir, if prayin' wad bring her roun', the suner
were intae't the better, for my back's fair broke daein' her
42 THE minister's mistake.
wark ; " and Davie once more rubbed his shoulders with
evident feeling.
"Go home, David," said the minister, " and read a
chapter to her, having faith in the result ; and I do hope
and trust that this sore and trying affliction may be duly
blessed to both you and your wife."
Half an hour after, Davie was home and had related his
interview with the minister almost word for word as it
occurred.
" Ma patience, pray for the cuddy ! " exclaimed Davie's
better-half on hearing the story, " wha was gie'n ye drink,
Davie ? "
" Oh, it's a richt," said Davie, " but drunk or sober, I'll
baith pray and chapter Katie in the stable this very nicht,
for if I'm to cairry oot the customers' coals much langer I'll
soon hae a corn on my back as big as Benlomond."
That same night Davie took down the big-print Bible,
and telling his spouse to bring matches and a candle, he.
made straight for the stable door.
" Licht the can'le," he said, getting out his specs and
preparing for serious work. " I wad like to wale a
chapter wi' a verse or twa suitable to our present afflic-
tion, but whaur to fa' on't I'm bate to ken."
"Try the Revelations, Davie," said his wife, "there's won-
derfu' passages there."
" Iievelations, did ye say ? " and turning over the leaves of
the Book as it lay spread on his knee, he at length con-
cluded just to take a chapter at random, when, just as he
was proceeding to open his mouth with a big — Behold ! the
disabled cuddy suddenly drew up her hind leg, and letting
fly, knocked the specs frae his e'en, the Bible owre his heid,
and himself owre the box he sat on.
"Eh !" yelled Davie, on getting to his feet, " did ever ye
see siccan rank unbelief! an' after a' the minister's talk,
tae ! Her a sowl to save ! She's a perfect auld heathen ! "
THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE. 43
"'Deed, I kenn'd weel enough frae the first that 'salts'
wad hae sair't her better than Scripter," put in Davie's
better-half.
" I'll jist awa' up this instant and let the minister ken the
result," was Davie's answer, and, quick on the thought, he at
once set off in the direction of the minister's manse.
" Weel, David, my good man," began the minister, " how's
Katie haudin' now ? "
" Mair life and spunk in her than I could have believed,
and mair infidel unbelief, tae, I'm sorry to confess."
" David ! David ! " expostulated the minister.
" Oh, ye may David, David me as lang's ye like ; but
when I made to read a chapter to her, the infidel auld yaud
kick't the Bible slap owre my heid. There's conduct for
ye!"
" Deplorable ! deplorable ! " exclaimed the minister, with
both hands elevated in mid air. " She must have altogether
lost her senses. I'll just put on my hat, and come along and
speak to her."
'•' You'll speak to her, minister ? " questioned Davie,
scratching at his toozie heid in fell surprise.
" Yes, David, I'll seriously argue the point with her,"
replied the minister, turning away to get his hat and stick.
In two minutes Davie had returned to the house, and
warned his wife that the minister was coming along to see
the cuddy.
"And me in this state," said his wife, " my face and twa
hands as black's a sweep's ! I'll jist rin in next door for twa
minutes, and ye can tell the minister I'm oot makin' my
markets."
A moment after, the minister's solemn step was heard in
the lobby.
" Here already, minister ? " said Davie, as the reverend
gentleman stepped across the threshold.
" Yes, but where is Katie, your disabled helpmeet ? "
44 THE MINISTER'S MISTAKE.
" She's in the stable, and I'll tak ye in to see her the
noo. Sit doon a minute."
" In the stable ! " exclaimed the astonished minister.
" How can you be so unkind as to keep her in the stable ? "
" And whaur then would I keep the cuddy if no in the
stable ? Surely ye widna expect her to stay wi' me an'
my wife in the kitchen, even though she has been a guid
helpmate ?" replied Davie.
" Do you mean to tell me that it is the donkey and not
your wife that you have been referring to all this time !"
exclaimed the amazed and confounded minister.
" Of coorse ! and nae yin else," said honest Davie.
" What ! Am I to understand that you call the animal
' Katie,' and that there is nothing the matter with your
wife's leg after all ? " demanded the minister, in solemn
tones.
" Bless my heart, minister, did ye ackwally mistake my
wife, Katie, for 'Katie' the cuddy ?" laughed aloud Davie,
his coal-gum countenance puckered with a thousand merry
wrinkles.
A moment after the completely dumfoundered minister
had hurriedly fled the spot. The disabled cuddy recovered the
use of its foot in due time ; but when the minister meets
Davie on the road he very conveniently looks up to his
native skies and keeps the far-away side of the street.
THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN.
Bailie Stout, a Glasgow magistrate of a past generation,
had made himself particularly obnoxious to the starving
unemployed of the city during the distress which led to the
riot of 1848, by refusing to vote them adequate help at the
Town Council Board, and a trick was played on him, in that
THE TAILOE MAK'S THE MAN. 45
connection, which eventuated in a highly humorous adventure,
and forcibly conferred on the self-conscious Bailie, a brief
experience as an amateur convict.
The Bailie had been having his usual social sederunt
in a small chop-house in the Trongate, and was returning,
late o' night, to his house in the Candleriggs, when he felt
himself seized without warning, and forced up a dark
entry, at the top of which he was hurriedly disrobed of his
sober tweeds and re-clothed in a suit of dirty white mole-
skin, the identical suit worn by the ring-leader of the
rioters on the preceding day.
Thus attired, the outraged Bailie was left to shift for
himself, as best he could.
" My goodness ! " he muttered to himself, as he hurried
off; "to think o' a Gleska magistrate jinkin' aboot the
streets o' auld St. Mungo attired in an Irish labourer's
cast-aff claes ! "
He was making to get across Trongate, a little west oi
King William's equestrian statue, when a strong voice
halloaed him, and called on him to stop. Looking about, the
Bailie saw two men hurrying across the Trongate after him,
and concluding that a further development of the infernal
plot already worked out against him was about to be inau-
gurated, he thought discretion the better part of valour, and
— precipitately fled. The Bailie's run, however, thanks to
his moleskins and his bodily beef, was more of a " juck's
waddle " than ought else, and in a few moments a pair of
rough hands were laid on his shoulders.
" The very man we want," said one of the two detectives-
for it was none other than two local detectives. "A
lucky find ! "
" What want ye wi' me ? what's the matter wi' the auld
hat noo ? " gasped out the astounded Bailie.
" All right, the thing's moleskin in more ways than one.
A certain man in a dirty white moleskin suit, led the rioters;
4(j THE TAILOK MAK'S THE MAN.
this forenoon. This resembles the suit, and — you are
undoubtedly the man ! Come along."
" Great Scott ! here's a funny fix," exclaimed the horrified
magistrate, " tooken up for a criminal — a rioter ! it's no'
possible ! it's no' possible ! Look at me. I'm a toun's
magistrate, Bailie Stout o' the auld Can'leriggs."
" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed the officer. " Tell that to the
Horse Marines. As for us, we're not quite so jolly green.
Come along, you rascally old fraud ! "
" The Lord luck to me, but this is most desperate wark ! "
exclaimed the Bailie, as he was being led off, " but stop a
wee ! jist ye stop a wee ! there's six or eicht '11 swing for
this job yet. if there's an ounce o' law left in Scotland ! "
And thus fuming out his just wrath, the unfortunate Bailie
Stout was hurried off, without further explanation or apology,
to the Central Police Office as a suspect of the most notori-
ous dye. It looked an unfortunate affair for Bailie Stout.
He was now practically in the hands of the police, and,
what was even worse, was likely to be thrust into a common
cell, with the charge of being a rioter written against his
name. The bare thought of such an eventuality was tortur-
ing in the extreme. But why bother himself ? The charge
was glaringly false all through, and was he not Bailie Stout,
a most respectable citizen, and — a magistrate !
And yet, had not men been convicted and hanged on
purely circumstantial evidence. They had, in numerous
instances, he well knew, and this unfortunate victim of a
police mistake shivered with horror at the bare possibility
of such a dire catastrophe as a criminal conviction. It was
no use the victim's threats and expostulations. The two
officers were obdurate, and the prisoner's repeated asserva-
tions that he was not the man suspected, but the veritable,
tangible, and irrefutable Bailie Stout, of the auld Gleska
Can'leriggs, so perseveringly made, were received with shouts
•of laughter as the stupid fabrications of a culprit neatly
THE TAILOK MAK'S THE MAN. 47
trapped. "Within five minutes the officers and their prisoner
were standing before the charge bar, in presence of the
lieutenant on duty.
" The charge ? " inquired the lieutenant.
" A ' suspect,' believed to be the man in the white mole-
skin suit, who led the mob in the East End this forenoon,"
answered the officer.
" It's a mistake ! " gasped out the prisoner, " a most
desperate, stupid, fearful mistake ! "
" Silence, prisoner ! " said the lieutenant, in a tone of
voice loaded with the weight of authority.
" What ! wad ye daur to order me to silence ? — a toon's
magistrate ! "
The astonished lieutenant, thus taken by the proboscis, so
to speak, deliberately put on and adjusted his spectacles, so
as to have a proper survey of the prisoner.
" Oh, ye may spectacle me as much as ye like, my fine
man, but haucl yer haun' a bit ere ye commit me, or by my
sang ye'll rue't the langest day o' yer life."
" A fit subject for Gartnavel," remarked the lieutenant.
" Tak' back that insultin' statement, sir, or stan' the con-
sequences. I'm Bailie Stout o' the auld Can'leriggs,"
slapping the counter with his hand.
"Now, look here, prisoner," said the lieutenant, "if I
have to suffer another interruption from you, I'll at once
lock you up in one of the cells as a drunk and disorderly
incorrigible."
' Try that trick on me, an' its any amount o' nails in yer
coffin, my fine chiel," said the prisoner, with rising spirit.
" Silence, will you ? " thundered forth the lieutenant.
" Go you to Cockenzie ! " retorted the prisoner.
' What is your name, sir ? " asked the lieutenant,
changing his tack.
" Bailie Stout," replied the prisoner, " as I've already tell't
thir twa fellows fifty times within the last fowr minutes." The
48 THE TAILOR MAK S THE MAN.
lieutenant burst into a fit of laughter, in which he was
heartily seconded by his two official subordinates.
" Oh, ye may lauch," said the prisoner, " but I'll haud ye
a saxpence ye'll lauch on the wrang side o' yer mooth before
ye're dune wi' this job, my fine fellows."
" Are you going to give me your real name ? " once more
questioned the lieutenant, " or must I add impersonation to
the charge already preferred against you ? "
" Bailie Stout o' the auld Can'leriggs, that's my name,"
once more insisted the prisoner, shooting out his rotund
" corporation " with assured self-consciousness.
" Let the turnkey search him," said the lieutenant,
abruptly turning away.
" What ! anither indignity ? Wad ye ripe my vera
pooches ? ''' gasped out the prisoner, as the officiating turn-
key seized him rather roughly by the arm, and wheeling
him right about face began turning out the contents of the
rather large and flabby pockets of his ill-fitting moleskin
suit. The contents were common enough — a broken clay
pipe, a bit of thick tobacco, a red-spotted pocket handker-
chief, and — ah ! — what is this ? — a copy of the four inflam-
matory resolutions read and passed by the rioters at the mass
meeting held on the ( 1 reen before proceeding to their work
of destruction. The keen eye of the lieutenant fixed on the
document the moment it was brought to light.
" A most important ' find,' ' remarked the lieutenant
glancing over the paper, and taking in the sense of the com-
promising matter with true official instinct and zest. " Looks
bad for you, old man.'
" What's this noo ? " gravely asked the prisoner, " hae ye
fand anither mare's nest, or what ? "
"We've found out what will send you across the seas, old
man, 1 fear," answered the lieutenant. " Eemove the prisoner ;
cell 21."
" What ! pit me in a polis cell ? " sang out the indignant
THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN. 49
Bailie. " Mind what ye're aboot, lieutenant ; if there's necks
to be streetched in connection wi' this affair, my man, yours
'11 rin a bad chance o' escape ; it's as fack as my name's Bailie
Stout, an' that's gie'n ye a last warnin' word."
The prisoner's last warning word, however, was of no
effect whatever. The lieutenant seemed to care no more for
it than he did for the spittle he exuded from his mouth at
the moment, as if in contempt. And, fuming like a scold-
ing washer- wife, the excited prisoner was led off to the con-
finement of the cell, protesting with great vigour of lungs
that he was the real and tangible Bailie Stout, o' the auld
Can'leriggs, and vowing loudly that six or eight of the police
officials would swing for the outrage done him, "if there was
an ounce o' law left in Scotland." Bight law or wrong-
law, however, poor Bailie Stout was run into cell 21, and
the door heavily locked on him.
"My goodness, but this is a fine farce!' thought the
Bailie when left to himself ; " a Gleska magistrate in a polis
cell ! It — it — it bates cock-fechtin' ! What wad the Provost
say if he saw me here, I wonder?"
" He would most likely say, my good friend," said a deep
sepulchral voice from an opposite corner of the cell — " he
would most likely say and conclude that, like me, you were
here to note, observe, and study both sides of the question."
The astonished Bailie jumped about three feet from the
ground when the deep bass voice of the speaker broke on his
ear, which suggested, in spite of its friendly words, an under-
ground relationship and resurrectional possibilities. The
voice that had just spoken, however, indubitably belonged to
a man, as Bailie Stout presently discovered, and a man, too,
displaying a personality six feet high, and turning the scales,
obviously, at fifteen stone. He was, in fact, more than a mere
man — he was, presumably, a minister, if a seedy black
clerically-cut suit, a round-about stand-up white collar, and
a broad, soft, shovel hat are worth founding an inference on.
s. 8. 4
50 THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN.
Advancing towards the astonished Bailie, the clerical-
looking stranger frankly extended his hand as a token of
good feeling and friendship in a common distress. The
Bailie, however, overruled by his native -Scotch caution,
proffered him only the extreme tip of his forefinger, which
the indulgent stranger very warmly caught and as warmly
shook, hoping that he saw his " valued friend quite
well."
The Bailie withdrew his imprisoned forefinger as soon as
he was able, assured his interlocutor that he was full
of his usual " weelness," and continued moving cautiously
backward as often as the tall, clerical-looking stranger
advanced in his direction. He was uncomfortably afraid of
the tall stranger, who, in spite of his clerical attire, had an
uncanny look.
" Perhaps," thought the Bailie, " he's the resident prison
parson let loose on me through some invisible sliding door-
panel."
Then he decided on questioning the tall cleric, point-blank,
as to his business in the cell.
" Pray, sir, are ye what's ca'd the prison parson ?" he
bluntly asked.
" No," responded the tall stranger, " only wish I were.
Salary good, billet easy, no vestry meetings, no Dorcas
societies, no insipid tea-drinkings with idle young ladies of
relaxed sentiment, nor twiddle-twaddle talk with amiable
old ones. No, friend, I'm not the prison parson — oh, dear,
no! Just now, however, I happen to run the job pretty
closely — without the salary though, which is equivalent to
playing Hamlet without the character of Hamlet — under-
stand ?"
" No, I'll be whuppit if I dae," frankly answered the con-
founded Bailie.
" Ah, let me explain. "Well, you see, although not exactly
the prison parson, I'm presently an imprisoned parson, and
THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN. 51
passably happy at that. You also possess that invaluable
mental panacea of contentment, my good friend, let me fondly
hope?"
"Na, na!" gruffly answered the Bailie, "I possess nae
invaluable mental pancake o' the kind."
" No ! Is it possible, and your head so full of strong
character, too ? Kindly let me read your head, please."
And the tall stranger made a step towards the Bailie, who
fell back two steps with great promptitude.
" Keep back!" he said with a deprecating wave of the
hand, " I dinna want my cocker-nut graipit by you. Are ye
a, travellin' phrenologist, or what ? "
" I'm a minister of the gospel, friend," said the tall
stranger in an appropriately grave and solemn tone of
voice.
" An' what the crickey are ye daein' here — in a polis
office?"
" Getting illustrations of the other side of the question,
and gathering graphic matter for original pulpit ministra-
tions."
" Go you to Dumbarton ! I ken a thing or twa better
than that, I'm thinkin',"
" Oh, it's really so, my good friend," resumed the crazy
cleric ; " and therefore have you a special care, old man, lest
I chuck you into my next Sunday's sermon as a striking
pulpit text. I only wish I had your name entered in my
note-book (tapping a side pocket), but I'll get it, I daresay,
from my Christian friend, the lieutenant at the bar as I pass
out. You look in need of a word in season. I can fix you
up there slick, I can. I usually carry a small bottle of
spiritual consolation in my pocket as a mental pick-me-up
in moments of distress, but the officious turnkey unfor-
tunately relieved me of it at the bar only half an hour ago.
Never mind, old boy, I'm square for you in another way.
You seem a strong case for Scriptural quotation. You are,
52 THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN.
I opine, nothing short of a five-mile-an-hour tramper on the
broad road to perdition, eh?"
The confounded Bailie " gapit wide, but naething spak',"
to use a handy bit of phraseology. He was sort of half
amused and wholly flabbergasted.
" Kindly allow me to decipher your head, friend. Do!
rare chance — gratis ! "
"Keep back! keep back!" replied the Bailie with a
shivery feeling. " If ye offer to lay ban's on my heid
I'll knock hymn-books an' family Bibles oot o' ye, big as ye
are!"
" Just as I thought. Pugilistic propensities strong,
reverential feelings weak," and this said, the disordered
'parson once more stepped close up to the retreating Bailie.
" Sit doun, man! for ony sake, sit doun an' be at rest!
I canna bear to see ye stottin' aboot the place like an
unlaid ghost."
"Sit down where, friend?" asked the crazy parson,
looking pathetically around the empty cell.
" On yer shovel-hat, if ye like. It's a saft enough lookin'
handfu'."
" Further confirmation of my first guess. Reverential
feelings notably weak. Want to be preached at a bit. I'll
take a memorial note of the sad fact, friend. Interesting
case to me, I do assure you. You'll go slap into my next
week's sermon, as sure as fate — dirty moleskins and all!"
And, pop, out came a small metallic note-book, into which
the miraculous parson proceeded to make an apparently
copious entry, descriptive of the imprisoned Bailie. This
effected, he next asked, by way of a climax, obviously —
" By the bye, friend, what's your crime ? I'm particular
about that, to a degree. ■ You're an Irish labourer, I see from
your attire. Probably stolen the hod, eh ?"
" I'm Bailie Stout o' the auld Can'leriggs, an' I want nae
niair o' yer looney jargon, keep mind o' that!"
THE TAILOR MAK'S THE MAN. 53
" Eev. Josiah Balderdash," said the turnkey at this
moment, putting his head inside the door of the cell.
" That's me ! " promptly answered the demented cleric.
" Your fine's paid. Come along, and see to it that you
cultivate milder spiritual tastes next time you go on the
merry ' squeal.' "
" Farewell, my good friend. Look out for yourself in my
next sermon."
" Ma feth ! if ever ye come up afore me at the Polis
Coort, my fine man, it'll be sixty days in Duke Street for
you, an' naething less, minister or no minister ! " the wroth
Bailie hotly cried after the departing parson.
Bailie Stout was liberated from custody that night only
on the sworn testimony of two brother magistrates, and any
amount of personal friends. Such is the confusing power of
a wronst suit of clothes ; and so true is it that the tailor
makes the man.
And so ended Bailie Stout's prison adventure as an amateur ,
convict.
JOCK TUBNIFS MITHER-IN-LAW.
Jock Turnip got married to Jenny Sybo yae nicht very
suddenly, after an eventfu' coortship o' seven years' duration.
The event having cam' aff suddenly at the last, Jenny urged
Jock to consent to lodge wi' her auld widowed mither, till
such times as they had gathered twa-three hoose-things
thegither. On hearing the proposal, Jock laughingly said —
" Weel, Jenny, my dear, my name's Turnip, an' your
mither's name's Sybo : neeps an' sybos usually mak' no' a
bad blend ; sae, I think we'll e'en gang an' lodge wi' yer
■sonsie auld mither, Jenny, dear."
54 JOCK TURNIP'S MITHER-IN-LAW.
lb was a' richt the first nicht o' the marriage. Mrs. Sybo-
was in gran' tune — the dram being guid, an' her — weel —
no' juist teetotal, ye ken. Everything gaed on first-rate, an'
like rale clock-work, an' Jock thocht he had got married
intae a fine, warm, cosy nest. An' it very sune proved a
warm eneugh nest, nae doot, but — Jock shook his heid ower
the rest o't.
Weel, the very next mornin', Jock fand oot, to his cost,
that he had married his mither-in-law, as weel's her dochter,.
an' that the courageous mither-in-law had already put on the
domestic breeks, an' was very evidently intendin' to regu-
larly wear them. The dawn was juist beginnin' to blink
thro' the window shutters, an' the half-past five o'clock
bells were scarce dune ringin', when the awfu' voice o'
Jock's mither-in-law was heard ootside the room-door,
cryin' —
" Get up, Jock Turnip, if ye're a man at a', an' mean to
begin life weel ! Get up, an' dinna lie there, sotterin' in yer
bed till a' hours o' the mornin." Jock roused oot o' deep-
sleep, rubb't his twa bleer't e'en wi' his faulded knuckles,
an' turned his gaze for a moment on his newly-made an'
lovely better-hauf, wha was lyin' alangside o' him, six miles
deep in a soun' sleep at the moment.
"Jenny! (no response) Jenny!! (no movement) Jenny!!!"
(gi'en her a heavy chinch wi' his bent elbow) —
" Urn ? " grunted Jenny.
" Yer mither's wantin' ye."
" Naething o' the kind," said the mither-in-law, " let the
puir, wearit lassie lie still. It's you I want up. Get up,
an' get oot to yer wark this minute, or I'll very sune open
yer twa steekit e'elids wi' the clash o' a wat dishclout !
D'ye hear me speakin' ? get up at yince, Jock Turnip ! "
and Mrs. Sybo began drumming pertinaciously on the door
panels.
" I was married only last nicht ! " expostulated Jock.
jock turnip's mither-in-law. 55
" A' the mair need ye should get up an' hurry oot to yer
wark this mornin', ye lazy, guid-for-naething sumph ! "
There was no escape from this kind of annoyance ; but
so long as Mrs. Sybo was kept outside the snibbed door
there was at least safety from personal harm. So Jock, who
had a certain rude sense of humour, got up and deliberately
locked the bed-room door from the inside.
" An' noo, Mrs. Sybo," he cried through the shut door to her,
" I'm gaun back to bed for twa hours' rest, an' I'm thinkin'
ye'd better be daein' the same."
" Gang back to my bed ! " yelled Jock's defeated mither-
in-law : " gang back to my bed, an' a lazy, yisless, guid-for-
naething son-in-law sleepin' awa' his seven senses on the
first mornin' o' his married life — the thochtless, extravagant
scoondrel ! "
So far, Jock had clearly defeated his domineering mother-
in-law. She had made the first move on the newly-arranged
domestic draught-board, and he had rather smartly check-
mated her play. Thus far, the best of the game was his.
But Mrs. Sybo, although checkmated, was by no means
defeated. She was a woman, and being a mother-in-law,
she was a woman of very considerable resource. So she
began to noisily heave about the kitchen furniture, ostensibly
by way of showing her indolent son-in-law a brisk example
of domestic energy, but in reality with the intention of
tormenting him into a prompt compliance with her demand.
" Faith ! " thought Jock, " I may lie in bed till doomsday,
if I like ; but, my wordie, I'll no' be allooed to sleep yae
blessed wink mair, I see — lie or rise ! "
Bang ! (raddle — addle — daddle !)
"Ow, what a smash! that's the three-legg't stule she's
flinmn^ about ; I'm vex't for the neebors below !"
Crash ! (jangle — angle — dangle!)
" There goes the fender ! "
Breenge ! (pirr — irr — irr !)
56 JOCK turnip's mither-in-law.
" O'd, that's surely the tangs swishin' across the flair ! "
Dump ! (dirrump — irrump — irrump !)
" Great sticks ! that's the auld watter-stowp noo ! the
table '11 gang next ! "
At this juncture, however, Jock's lovely better-hauf sud-
denly jumpt up, an' look't wildly roun', wauken't oot o' her
six-miles-deep sleep by the crashing noises in the but-an'-ben
kitchen.
" Eh, Jock, dear, what's gaen wrang at a' ? is this the last
day, the jidgment mornin', or what ? "
" 'Deed, Jenny, lass, an' I'm jist thinking it's either
the crack o' doom, or some terrible earthquake that's takin'
place."
" Oh, mercy me ! an' whaur's my puir mither ? "
" She's busy superintendin' the removal o' the kitchen
furniture."
" What ! Jock ; are we flittin' then ? "
" It seems sae ! "
" An' whaur are we flittin' to ava' ? "
" AVeel, Jenny, last nicht when I got married to you I
thocht I was flittin' to bliss, but on waukenin' this mornin' I
find I've tooken a trip to perdition ; an' the only thing that
vexes me is the want o' a return ticket back hame again."
" Eh, Jock, that's a sair word for a man to gi'e a new-
married wife," said Jock's better-hauf, reproachfully.
" It's no you, my dear ; it's yer lovely mither that's the
sair bit. She's a fine, big, roun'-shape't, sonsie-lookin'
woman, but her tongue's been dippit in vitriol ; an' if yer
late respected faither dee'd abroad I wadna blame him for't."
Weel, to resume, Jock attacked his bowl o' porridge in
dour silence that mornin', an' gaed oot to his wark wi' his
mind in a kind o' mixed state.
" Hallo, Jock," said a bench-mate ; " greetings t'ye, noo
that ye're a married man ; an' what think ye o' the wife ? "
« -\Vh — wh — which o' them ?" asked Jock.
JOCK TURNIP'S MITHER-IN-LAW. 57
,; Which o' them d'ye ask ! o'd, are ye a Mormon, Jock ?
ha'e ye married twa ? "
" Seems sae," answered Jock. " I've married the wife,
an' alang wi' her, her tart auld mither intae the bargain ; an',
let me tell you, the pair o' them's likely to mak' a fou'
handfu'."
" There's mair than you in that same box, Jock ; but
listen ; if ye've ony notion o' character, a mither-in-law's a
gran' study for ye."
" Study, ba hang't ! no, no ; I've nae notion o' studyfn' her
•character onyway ; I want shot o' her ; can ye advise me,
mate ? "
"Ay, can I, Jock."
" What then ? "
" Shift yer lodgin's, Jock ; it's the only effectual cure."
" Ye've said it, man ; ye've juist said it. I'll e'en shift
my quarters this verra nicht ; mony thanks to ye for the
kind hint."
Weel, that same nicht, Jock, before gaun hame, secured a
room for himself an' his better-half, Jenny, an' gettin' a
han'-barrow, an' alang wi' that the help o' twa strong men,
he hurried awa' owre to his awfu' mither-in-law's, to remove
his wife's " kist an' beddin', " alang wi' her share o' the hoose
furniture, which simple Jock had been a' alang led to believe
was most valuable, and very extensive.
Arrived at the door, Jock sent up the biggest o' the twa
men he had brocht alang, wi' a message for Jenny to come
doon at yince, an' to bring her kist an' her beddin' alang wi'
her.
" Is Jock Turnip wi' ye ? " was Mrs. Sybo's first pointed
■question.
" He's waitin' at the stair-fit," was the answer.
" Send the rascal up here this instant ; I want to see him
very particularly."
Down goes Jock's assistant with the curt message.
58 JOCK turnip's mither-in-law.
" Weel, hoo does the moral barometer stan' ? " was Jock's-
first question, " stormy lookin', I suppose ? "
" Ye're wanted up stairs, Jock, by yer amiable mither-in-
law, very particularly."
Jock touched the one side of his nose with the tip of his
fore finger; and winked suggestively with the opposite eye.
" What, are ye no gaun up ? " asked his cronie.
" No this time," answered Jock.
" What, frichtit, Jock ? "
" No exactly that," answered Jock, " but, ye see, my
life's no insured, an' if I was to venture on an interview wi'
my most amiable mither-in-law at this interesting juncture,
it's mair than probable ye'd get me to hurl hame on (that
barrow, instead o' my wife's portion o' the hoose furniture,
d'ye see ? "
Yes, they both clearly saw it, and had not long to wait a
final solution of the dilema.
In less than twa minutes doon comes Jenny wi' her share
o' the hoose furniture in her airms, in the shape o' a hymn-
book, a cup an' flett, a pair o' fitless stockings, a disconnected
" dress-improver," an' a broken umbrella of great size, but
of quite indefinite age. An' hard after her cam' also doun
Mrs. Sybo, Jock's awfu' mither-in-law, wi' fire in her twa
black e'en, an' an auld broom-handle fiercely grasped in her
han' —
" Ye wad steal awa' my dochter, ye heartless fellow, an'
syne ha'e the impidence to come back wi' a barrow for my
hoose furniture, ye unconscionable rascal ! O'd, I'll furniture
ye ! " and swinging aloft the formidable broom-handle, Jock's
valiant mither-in-law made a sweeping charge at the whole
group — the empty barrow included.
" The situation's dangerous," cried Jock, " lift men, an'
rin for yer lives ! " an' afore twa ticks, the spot was clean
vacated, an' Jock's drum-major o' a mither-in-law was left
in free possession o' Jenny's imaginary kist — alang wi the
JOCK turnip's mither-in-law. 5&
equally-imaginary stores o' beddin' an' general kitchen
furniture foolishly supposed to belang to her.
Jock, however, keeps a firm haud o' his new lodgings,,
and thinks the bargain a perfect blessin', noo that he has-
secured undisputed possession o' his wife, Jenny, and got
happily rid o' his awfu' terjer o' a mither-in-law.
LODGINGS AT ARBAN.
Tammy Lawbrop, a tailor chappie, an' I gaed doon to Arran
last Fair Setterday to spend a week's holidays. We had a
picturesque week o't, an' no mistake ! We had often heard
the Island o' Arran spoken aboot as a grand place for pickin'
up health. The air was sae wonderfu' fresh there, an' the
saut water sae strong, that the folks said ye cood thrive
finely there, an' even grow fat on plain tatties and herrin',
mornin', noon, an' nicht, wash't doon wi' a jugfu' o' soor
mulk. Oor livin' at Arran was, therefore, likely to prove very
cheap. But, if the livin' was likely to prove cheap, the
lodgin's turned oot a saut enough concern, I can tell ye !
Lodgin's at Arran ! D'ye ken what that means ? It
means oftener than no' twa pounds a week for a hen hoose,
wi' six or eicht in the bed, a coo's byre next door, an' the
rain comin' thro' the roof! Talk aboot gaun abroad to see
the picturesque in life ! Gang doon to Arran at the Gleska
Fair-holiday time, an' ye'll never need to gang farrer to see-
mair. Weel, we hadna jist exactly six in oor bed — Tammy
Lawbrod an' I ; but oor room was quite remarkable for the
want o' room. To begin wi', the wee microscopic bed we
slept in had obviously been made for the accommodation o'
some Italian organ-grinder's monkey in bad health. It was
sae sma' that Tammy an' I had, yin micht almost say, to
examine it wi' oor specks on ! It was a fine tak'-in, that
60 LODGINGS AT ARK AN.
same furnished room. We saw it advertised in the Gleska
papers as a
FURNISHED ROOM TO LET AT ARRAN,
Suitable for two bachelor gentlemen ; fine sea- view ;. garden
at the back ; every convenience ; own key ; terms moderate !
Address — Mrs. M'Tavish, Brodick.
The advertisement, ye'll notice, was very nicely worded,
an' was fitted to draw like a mustard poultice. It drew
Tammy Lawbrod an' mysel' a' the way doon to Arran jist
like that ! (snapping his finger and thumb). We wrote
doon for it at yince, an' engaged it for eicht days, without
seein' it ; the advertisement, alang wi' Mrs. M'Tavish, was
sae fu' o' promise. Talk aboot buyin' a pig in a pock ! It
was waur than even that, it was aboot as bad as a man
tryin' to read the papers wi' the specks on the back o'
his heid ! Brodick's no' a big place ; but we had, never-
theless, some difficulty in fmdin' oot Mrs. M'Tavish.
" D'ye ken whaur Mrs. M'Tavish bides ? " I speired at a
native, a wild-lookin' man wi' red hair, tartan troosers, and
a squint e'e.
" FauT daes she lceve ? " replied the Celt, " tell me faur
she stays ? "
" That's what I'm wantin' to ken, man," said I.
" So wass me," answered the Celt, with a wild grin.
" Can ye no' tell me whaur Mrs. M'Tavish bides ? " I
yince mair asked him.
" Wass you come a' ta way doon from Klasko to see Mrs.
M'Tavish ? " inquisitively replied the Celt.
" Tuts, man, d'ye no' ken whaur Mrs. M'Tavish bides, I'm
speirin' ye — yes or no' ? "
" Mrs. M'Tavish ! Mrs. M'Tavish ! " ruminated the Celt,
" fat Mrs. M'Tavish wass she bee wantin' ? "
" Mrs. M'Tavish wha let's the summer lodgin's," I
answered.
"Hump!" replied the Celt with a shrug, " efery Mrs.
LODGINGS AT ARRAN. 6L
M'Tavish, an' Mrs. Macfarlanes, an' Mrs. Macdougalls, an r
efery other housewife on ta island keeps twa or four lodgers
whateffer, an' twice as more too."
Brodick's no a big place, however, as ye a' ken, an' I f and
oot oor identical landlady before lang. She was standin' in'
the doorway lookin' oot for oor comin'. We had passed her,
back an' forrit, half-a-dizzen times before we ever even
suspected that she was Mrs. M'Tavish, or that the hut
she occupied was the " Cottage at Arran " we had seen
described in that highly romantic and drawing advertisement.
The " cottage " was a yae-story concern, and looked a sort
o' twa-hunder-year-auld shepherd's hut or dowg-hoose, tooken
doon, holus bolus, frae the hillside somewhaur, an' set on
the edge o' the road as a protest against all modern ideas of
ordinary taste and comfort. The " garden " at the back was
a genuine cabbage yin ! Mrs. M'Tavish was a pure native
o' the island. She snuffed, wore mutches an' specks, an' spoke
a limited quantity of English, interfused wi' an unlimited
quantity o' unpronounceable Gaelic.
Beyond an' above a' that, Mrs. M'Tavish was a very
thrifty, economical woman. Her hoose consisted o' a but-
an'-a-ben, or, to phrase the thing more genteelly, a room an'
a kitchen. She kept a coo, and a lot o' cocks an' hens in
the hoose, forbye her lodgers. The hens had the best o't.
They had, at a' hours, an' on a' occasions, the unqualified run
o' the hoose, an' between their ceaseless cackle, the cocks'
fearfu' crawin', an' the fine, fresh smell o' the auld coo,
tethered at the faur-awa en' o' the kitchen bed, the place,
mornin', noon', an' nicht, was remarkably fu' o' the very
strongest country odours and associations.
Talk aboot the picturesque in foreign travel! For a
genuine e'e-opener, try Arran. Mrs. M'Tavish's yae-room-
an'-kitchen concern in Arran was a whussler, I can tell ye !
It was the most musical, as weel as the most diversified,
lodgin's I ever stayed in. As early as fowr in the mornin',
■Q2 LODGINGS AT AKRAN.
it was cockie-leerie-law ! in yer sleepin' lugs frae the tane
or the tither o' the twa cocks ; a' the forenoon it was moo-oo !
frae the auld coo in the kitchen ; while mornin', noon, and
nicht, it was naething but clack, clack, clack ! frae the twa-
and-twenty hens that roosted singly or in pairs in a' parts o'
the hoose.
But we had a waur experience than a' that — Tammy
Lawbrod an' I. The hoose was a fine airy yin, the roof was
thatched wi' straw, an' had numerous keek-holes in't,
thro' which the daylicht peeped like wee stars. This was a'
very fine sae lang as the weather kept dry. But a break in
the barometer took place yae nicht suddenly, aboot fowr in
the mornin', an' the scene was changed, as the poet says.
That mornin' I was waukened oot o' a deep sleep wi' Tammy
Lawbrod dunchin' me on the shoother wi' his elbow. I
started, an' looked aboot me.
" What's the maitter, Tammy ? " I asked.
" The maitter ! d'ye no' see what's up ? " he asked, " why,
it's poorin' o' rain in here, an' I'm jist thinkin' it wad be
better for us baith to get up an' gang ootside till it tak's aff !
This is fine, lively, picturesque lodgin's we've cam' to, an'
no' mistake ! "
" Dook yer heid under the blankets till the rain's aff,"
quo' I, wi' a laugh, for I coodna help laughin' at the oddity
o' the situation, badly as we were in for't.
"Nae yise," replied Tammy, "the blankets 'ill be wat
thro' in twa ticks ; the rain's already lyin' in wee pools on
the tap o' them ! It's an umbrella we're sairly need in",
I'm thinkin'."
" The very thing ! " I joyfully exclaimed, an' afore ye
cou'd say Jake Eobinson, I hadjumpit oot the bed, seized my
auld umbrella, an' getting yince mair laid doon in bed,
iiapp't it up abune oor twa heids, to save oorsel's frae the
rain that was skytin' doon on us frae the dreepin' roof !
An' for twa lang hours we lay in the bed there, wi' oor
LODGINGS AT ARRAN. 63
nichtcaps drawn doon owre oor twa lugs, an' the umbrella
spread owre oor heids, a grand specimen o' the picturesque
in life — and lodgin's in Arran ! I kenna how auld Mrs.
M'Tavish got on in the kitchen that rainy nicht ; but I ken
that. some o' the cocks an' hens had to hide for shelter ere
mornin' below the chairs an' tables !
Folks ha'e different ideas o' hoo to spend a holiday ; but
I'll say this much, if ye want a new experience in life spend
.a week in Arran. But for ony sake dinna gang there
withoot takin' wi' ye an ample supply o' waterproof, alang
wi' a fine big bed-room Umbrella !
OOR JOHN'S PATENT ALARUM.
Oor John's a rale genius in his way, he's aye after some
droll invention or ither, an' there's nae end to his ingen-
uity.
Yae mornin' aboot a fortnicht back since he " sleepit in,"
an' quo' he, " Tib, that's twice I've sleepit in since the New-
Year, but I'll sleep in nae mair. I've got an idea, an' I'll
set to an' develop it at yince."
Sae do un went John's elbows on the breakfast table, an'
clap gaed his heid between his twa han's ; an' " I've got it
Tib," said he, after five-and-twenty minutes' close thocht,
" I've got it — a new idea o' a compound alarum bell, an' I'll
hae it ringin' like a kirk-steeple bell this nicht week."
John's a born genius, there's nae twa ways aboot that.
His plan was this : — The clock, ye maun ken, was yin o'
thir auld niddlety-noddlety sort that wag industriously across
the yellow-ochred wa's. John, ye see, designed a wee
wheelological instrument o' the curiousest kind, wi' ever sae
mony engineerical turlie-whurlies aboot it. The inside works
were as fu' o' brains and mechanical unnerstandin' as John's
64 OOIi JOHNS PATENT ALARUM.
gifted heid could pang them ; an' this was the programme o'
heidy contrivances an' sleep-breakm' noises expected to be
set agoing at half-past five o'clock on the following
mornin' : —
The wag-at-the-wa' would be set half an hour forrit, an' in
chappin' six o'clock the descendin' wecht would licht upon
the trikker o' John's compleecated machine, the ball o'
which would begin to descend and the hammer to reverberate
jist as the clock bell ran oot. On the road doun, an' while
busy alarming John, the wecht would first flap doon the
bunker-lid, cowp a lot o' balanced stools, an' then screw on
the gas-licht full. John's coffee-can would be hung con-
veniently owre the gas-burner, an' while the guidman was
findin' his way inside his breeks, the gas would be nicely
warmin' the coffee. So much for John's patent alarum.
" Tib," said the guidman to me yae nicht, just as the eerie
chap o' ten was ringin' thro' the toun, " the patent alarum is
noo loaded, an' we may baith gang to bed an' sleep as soun'
as the birds in the woods. That new patent alarum o' mine
would wauken the vera deid ! "
Sae aff to rest we baith gaed, John an' I, an' presently
fell soun' asleep, jist like twa spinnin' peeries. I sleepit
soun' an' sweet — I'm positive o' that. But jist as the
dawn began to grey the sky I maun hae fa'en to the
dreamin'. I had been readin' a nicht or twa before aboot
the Fa's o' Niagara. I thocht I was there. I was walking
under them. The roar that was in my ears was perfectly
deafenin'. I started, screamed, an' wauken'd clean up in a
nervous fricht. Sittin' bolt upricht, I rubbed my e'en,
stuffed my fingers into my ears, an' considered for a moment
the exact situation. Yes, yes ; John's alarum was comin'
thunderin' doun, an' the hoose was as fu' o' sound as the
thrangest boat-yaird on the Clyde. I would rouse up John,
I thocht. But no ; I would sit still an' watch the effeck o'
John's invention — on himsel'.
OOR JOHN'S PATENT ALARUM. 65
An' there he lay, kickin' an' flingin' an' groanin' an'
moanin', under the awfu' noise o' the descendin' alarum, like
a man fair demented. In a moment the descendin' wecht
bleez'd up the gas, an' struck doon the bunker lid, an' — ow !
— what a smash ! John, puir man, breeng't aff the braid o'
his back clean roun' on to the flett o' his stammack. The
next moment doun bang'd the front flap o' the bunker, an'
John, puir man, precipitately fulfilled the Highland sergeant's
command— "As you was!" Anither moment, an' the wean's
chair was fiang thump, dump doun ; then smash gaed a big
stool, an' a second after, breenge went a pair o' big bread
servers.
At this extreme juncture, John, clean bye-himsel', jump't
bolt upricht, and steadied himsel' on his beam-end on the
tap o' the blankets. His e'en were burnin' like twa Hallow-
e'en lichts, an' the hairs o' his heid were standin' strecht oot,
like a bunch o' daurnin' needles in a sawdust preen-cushion.
The cat, puir thing, had been fieein' frantically but-an'-ben
the hoose a' the time ; an' to croun a', oor wee Skye terrier
dowg, hauf demented wi' fricht, set up a series o' the most
dismal, melancholy, an' heart-breakin' yowls.
John sat in bed, stock-still, an' silently listened to it a'.
Triumph was workin' in every line o' his face. The alarum
was a tremendous success ! Yae wild spring, an' he was
oot on the centre o' the fluir, snappin' his fingers, whistlin'
" Tullochgorum," an' hoochin' an' leapin' like a dementit
Highlandman, his sleepin' shirt daein' duty for a short kilt.
Meantime, hauf-a-dizzen nervous sleepers had their peacefu'
dreams shattered that mornin' by a succession o' patent
thunder-claps.
A nicht policeman, too, who had been shelterin' himsel'
frae the rain at the stairfit, succeeded in makin' things
doubly worse by fiercely springin' his rattle, under a settled
conviction that the haill building was fa'in' in, — was gaun,
in fack, to general pigs an' whussels !
s. s. 5
66 ook John's patent alarum.
John, perfeckly undisturbed by the terrible consequences
o' his patent ideas, drew on his breeks, an' mutterin'
something aboot his " star being in the ascendant,"
sat doun an' steadied his nerves wi' a moothfu' o' warm
coffee.
The neibors roun' aboot, however, took events less quately.
Windows gaed fleein' up, heids bobbed out, an' doors were
flung open on every stairhead. In three minutes, or less,
the staircase, frae tap flett to bottom landing, was crooded wi'
terrified an' exasperated auld wives, picturesquely attired in
red flannen petticoats, white short gowns, an' close-tied
starchless mutches, an' everybody was asking every ither
body what was the maitter — wha's gas meter had burst ?
But naebody succeeded in turning the gas on the dark
mystery.
A Dutch sailor — Von Tromp by name — wha lived in the
tap sky-licht when at hame, presently cam' tearin' doun the
stairs, three staps at a time, his heavy sea-boots thrust
hurriedly on, his sou'-wester crushed low doun on his broo,
an' his muckle reefin' jacket flung loosely across his airm.
On the road doun he cowp't successively three separate auld
wives wha were industriously pechin' their way up the stairs
in search o' explanations.
" Von Tromp ! Von Tromp ! ! Von Tromp ! ! ! " screamed
everybody in startling chorus, " what ava's the maitter ? "
" Breakers somewhere on de wedder bow ; round helm,
spread sail, an' coot stick before de wind," shouted the Dutch
sailor, never stopping to look once behind him, but crushing
wildly on " before de wind," an' running down, in his hot
hurry, the excited policeman who had sprung his rattle at
the stairfit three minutes before, an' who was now hurrying
up to learn wha's roof had fa'n in.
Recovering his feet wi' astonishing speed, the bumbased
official turned on his lamp, blew his whussel like a loco-
motive, an' sprung afresh his noisy rattle, winding up
OOR JOHN'S PATENT ALARUM. 67
business by staring the haill stairhead full in the face, an'
asking in a bewildered an' general sort o' way —
" Wad some o' the folks no opleege her by makin' a
* shairge ' ? "
" A chairge ! " cried half-a-dizzen voices, " whit richt hae
ye to spring yer rattle on the sleepin' Ian' ? wha sent for
you ? what richt, in fack, hae ye here ava' ? "
" Have I no as more richt here nor you ? " demanded the
angry official, wi' a self-reliant cock o' the heid.
" Fling that bunch o' dried heather doun the stair," roared
Eab Rough, the blacksmith. And the "bunch o' dried
heather " fell promptly back in view of bringing up a re-
quired support.
But what aboot oor John a' this time ? Weel, ye ken, I
was busy listenin' at the key-hole to a' that had transpired
on the stairheid ; an' when the panic was fairly owre, an'
the policeman had been shoosted wide o' the neighbourhood
for his vera life, I staps in atowre to John, an' —
" Guidman," quo' I, " that's a dreidfu' wark ye've dune,
the haill Ian', frae tap to fit, is in a nervous commo-
tion."
" It's glorious ! Tib ; clean glorious ! ! A greater success
than this hisna been kenn'd since the days o' Galileo.
Never mind the commotion amang the neebors. There's
aye a bit stoorie rumpus amang ordinary folks when men o'
great original genius like me shake society wi' their ideas.
Sit ye doun, Tib, sit ye doun. Oor fortune's made at last.
There's no a workin' man, between Ben Nevis an' Camlachie,
but'll gang in for yin o' my patent alarums when yince the
tremendous virtue o' them's kenn'd. Yin o' them, richtly
handled, wad wauken a haill regiment o' sodgers, let alane
a single sleeper. Sit doun, Tib ! sit doun, an' tak' a
moothfu' o' this coffee. It's perfeckly delicious, Tib. Twa-
three sips o't 'ill mak' yer goupin' nerves as quate's a kirk
moose."
68 oor John's patent alarum.
" But, O John," quo' I, " ye'll hear mair o' this or I'm
gey fawr cheatit," gi'en my heid a solemn shake.
" A monument as heich's the tap brick o' Tennant's stalk
'ill be the upshot o't, Tib," said John, clappin' my shoothers
consolingly, till my vera heart louped intae my mooth.
Noo, John didna stir a fit to his wark a' that eventfu'
mornin' ; sae, as we sat thegither at the breakfast table —
" John," I began, wi' a bit coaxin' lauch, " if the result o'
your grand new patent alarum is the keepin' ye oot o' yer
wark of a mornin', it can hardly be said to be fulfillin' the
purpose for which it was designed."
" Hoot-toots ! " ejaculated John " ye ken naething aboot
the sublime exstatics o' genius. Wha could gang to
their wark in the face o' sic an overwhelmin' triumph ? It
pits the clean Peter on Jeems Watt an' the steam engine —
thrice owre. Gang to my wark ! Tib. It wid be a doun-
richt prostitution o' logic an' rationality ; naething short o't.
Tib — naething short o't ;" an' John thereupon began snappin'
his fingers an' whusslin' like fury, "All Among the
Clover."
Weel, the vera next nicht, word gaed roun' the Ian' that
there were nae fewer than seven auld wives lyin' deid-ill o'
shaken nerves an' low fever, resultin' frae the fearfu' fricht
they had got, an' John, in spite o't a', persisted in his
determination to load the alarum full-cock that nicht, an'
that, too, wi' several improved additions, intendin', as he
declared, to ring up the haill building, an' thereby consoli-
date an' assure the success o' his new invention.
Weel, I was perfeckly putten by mysel' wi' the bare
thocht o't. Sae I gets on my chacket shawl an' my market
bonnet, an' awa' I gangs across to my guid-brither — Johnny
InkBottle, the lawyer's copying-clerk — an' I tells him what's
what, an' what I wantit dune.
Sae, jist to frichten John aff his mad intention, he traces
oot a big fearsome-lookin' note o' interdiction against John
oor John's patent alarum. 69
Muckle-din, chairgin' the said John Muckle-din wi' a'
violent an' unprovoked molestation o' the neighbourhood, to
the discomfort an' injury o' the lieges, an' threat'nin' a' sorts
o' punishment, if the annoyance was persisted in, in the
high name o' the Captain o' the Police, the which dockiment
he promised to immediately send owre to John.
Weel, back I gangs, an' five minutes after, an official
knock comes to the door, an' a heavily-sealed an' awsome-
lookin' dockiment was handed gruffly in.
" John ! John ! ! what's this at a' ava ? " cried I, handin'
him the legal dockiment, an' lookin' three fourths in a fent,
ne'er lettin' on I kent ocht aboot it.
John opened it, cannily, but deliberately, lookin' jist a
thochtie blue on the subject, an', " Tib," quo' he, " it's a'
letter o' interdiction against my alarum, frae the Lord Provost,
nae less, wi' as mony ' Wherefor's ' an ' Whereas's '
scatter'd through it as wid cowp the wits o' onybody short
o' a man wi' a poother'd wig. Weel, if that's no putten the
veto on a man o' genius, I'll jump the kirk steeple."
I tried to pacify him by showin' him the reasonableness
o' the interdict, but —
" Na, na," quo' John, " it's rale even-doon persecution ;
naething short o't, Tib. They did the same thing, long ago,
to Galileo- — a man of genius like mysel'. Ay ! Tib ; an'
this is Great Britain, an' this the boasted 19th century!
Lord, I could thraw the neck o' that narrow-souled Captain
o' the Police ! His mind's no the size o' a George the
Third sixpence !"
Weel, to mak' a lang story short, the interdict was
rumpled angrily up an' stapped viciously ahint the fire ; an'
the alarum, wi' a' its patent wechts an' fastenin's, was that
same nicht lowsed saucily doun, an', there and then, broken
up into flinders, that an ungratefu' warld micht never profit
by the idea.
O'd, I never was mair pleased wi' onything in my life
70 OOR JOHN'S PATENT ALARUM.
than jist to see John break up his patent machine. An'
if ever oor John thinks o' constructin' anither Patent
Sleep-Breakin' Alarum, I hope an' trust he'll succeed in
makin' yin that'll wauken himsel', withoot exactly rousin'
up a haill street.
MBS MACFABLAN
GANGS BOON THE WATTEB.
Fair-Monday was at hand, when Mrs. Macfarlan's promised
fortnicht at the coast would begin, and it was now expedient
that the setting in order of the family wardrobe should be
completed without further delay.
Johnny's " lum hat " was irretrievably lost, and a new
hat was quite outside of the question. The general purse
wouldn't allow of it at all. The most that Mrs. Macfarlan
could do, by way of compromising the loss, was to buy a
" cut o' worset " an' knit Johnny a braw new Tarn o' Shanter
according to promise. This she accordingly did, and on the
Monday morning following Johnny was able to sport a grand
Tarn o' Shanter bannet, with a great red " toorie " on the
top of it, and showing a general breadth of body which,
if it did not exactly cover the whole of Johnny's numerous
family, effectively covered at least his own head and
shoulders.
"Weel, what think ye o' yer wife's handiwark, Johnny
Macfarlan ?" asked the author o' the new Tain o' Shanter
the moment her husband had clapped it on his head.
" A perfect umbrella, Betty. A man could hide frae a
shoo'r o' rain or a tax-gatherer under't. I hope the wind
'ill no naff t aff my heid gaun doon in the steamer the
day."
MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER. 71
" Dod, ye maun watch that, Johnny. Yer lum hat was
burnt the ither nicht, an' it wad be a heart-breaking affair if
yer new Tarn o' Shanter was to be droon't."
" Hum ! it wad be a trifle waur if I was to be droon't
mysel'. Ye see, lass, it's no the bannet, but the heid that's
in it. That's a general truth ; in my case it's a particular
truth," and Johnny tapped his forehead, and smiled.
" In your case, Johnny, it's no the bannet, but the turnip
that's in it," quickly retorted Mrs. Macfarlan. " But, dod
me, dinna let us waste ony mair time wranglin' owre
turnips an' ither vegetables, Johnny, but rather see tae't that
the weans an' a'thing are gettin' ready for the road. There,
see ye that ; it's half-past eicht o'clock already, an' the boat
sails at ten ! and me hisna on my bannet yet."
" Only yae hale hour an' a half yet !" sarcastically
observed Johnny. " I could walk to Dumbarton in that
time."
" Oh, ay, fiddle-faddle aboot till we're owre late for the
boat ! A bonnie like husband ye are ! a fine helpmate
atweel ! See that you dinna try my temper ony faurer this
mornin', Johnny Macfarlan, or it'll be the waur for ye."
At this juncture Johnny got out his pipe, and deliberately
prepared to fill it, in view of enjoying for five minutes a
nerve-soothing smoke, the accidental sight of which put his
worthy spouse into a perfect rage.
" Pit doon that lazy pipe this moment, Johnny Macfarlan,
an' tie that wean's buits, or we'll never see Eothesay this day,"
she once more broke in, " an' cut up thir twa loaves into
slices for 'pieces' in the boat, an' stuff them intae the port-
manty alang wi' the rest o' the things ; an' dinna forget to
tie up the three big umbrellas in yae bundle — ye can cairry
them in yer oxter alang wi' the lave — an' get oot the
perambulator; an' dinna forget to pit Saturday's Weekly
Mail in yer pouch, for I hivna got time to read the stories
yet, an' Johnny "
72 MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER.
"Stop! stop! I'll dae a' that, Betty! I'll dae a'
that ! "
" An' see that ye fix a buit lace to yer Tarn o' Shanter,
an' tie it through a button-hole, Johnny ; an' mair than
that "
" Yes, yes, Betty ! the thing's a' richt ; but, great Csesar !
sie me time to breathe. Faith, an' the hen'll wear the cock's
kame stiffly before I consent to flit to the saut watter again.
I wudna gie a twa-hours ramble through the policies o' auld
Camlachie, wi' the pipe in my cheek, an' a yellow butter-
cup in my button-hole, for a' the saut watter atween this en
New York."
" Camlachie here ! Camlachie there ! " snapped Mrs.
Macfarlan, " get you yer parcels under yer airm, an' set aff wi'
twa-three o' the weans, or we'll never, I tell ye, be in time to
catch the boat."
" Ay, ay," answered Johnny, " come awa', weans. Oh, no
the hale o' ye ; live or six'll dae," and picking up his parcels,
including the three tied-up umbrellas, the basket perambu-
lator, and the baggy portmanty, Johnny set off forthwith,
followed in pairs by some half-dozen of his rather numerous
family brood.
" It's a fine thing to be married," thought Johnny to him-
self, as he trudged heavily on, preceded by the weans — Mrs.
Macfarlan bringing up a formidable rear, " it's a rale grand
enterprising thing to be married."
Following up her husband, Mrs. Macfarlan at length
arrived at the Broomielaw, where she found Johnny in a dour
" huff," and asked him, — " What's wrang noo ? "
" Wrang, be hang't ! " retorted Johnny, "that infernal
nichtcap ye've knitted me, to my sorrow, I fear, is faur frae
being richt, whatever else is wrang! That's a' I've gob
to say ! "
" An' what's the maitter wi' the Tarn o' Shanter, if ye please,
Mr. John Macfarlan, Esq. ? Let me tell you this, ye never
MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER. 73
look't brawer in yer born life, than ye dae in that same
bannet o' my ain clever knittin' ! "
" Wad ye believe this, Mrs. Elizabeth Macfarlan, Esq.,
when I was coming through St. Enoch Square there, a big
loon of a cairter pointed at me wi' his whup, an' said to his
neebor, ' D'ye mind yon, Jock : d'ye see Eab Eoy in breeks ! ' "
" An' what o' that, Johnny ? " sneered Mrs. Macfarlan
" Ay, an' a wee brat o' a laddie, a grocer's cadjer or
something o' that kind, had the abominable impidence to ask
me — ' Wha stole my toorie ? ' Waur than a', when I put
up my hand to feel for't he lauched like mad ! "
" But yer toorie's no' stolen ; it's on the tap of yer
bannet yet, Johnny."
" Oh, hang you, Betty ! Ye've nae perception o' satire
ava' ; woman, yer cabbage-heided ! "
"An' is that a' ye're in the dour dumps for, Johnny
Macfarlan ?
" Oh, ay, Mrs. Macfarlan, it's a' richt ; I've gotten my
twa e'en open't this day ; I ken something I didna ken
when I left the hoose half-an-hour asfo ! "
" Ay, an' what's that, if you please ? "
" I got a full view o' mysel' five minutes ago ! A thing
I haena gotten for years. Ye don't ca' yon a lookin'-gless
ye hae at name, Betty ? — a wee bit three-cornered scrap o'
broken gless, about three inches square, tied up in a bit
cloot, an' hung frae a nail in the wa' ! I was only able
to see mysel' in bits at hame this mornin', but, haith, I've
gotten a full view o' mysel' now, an' I've seen what
the folks were a' glowerin' at me for. Nae wonder the
cairter lad joked his neibor aboot Eab Eoy in breeks,
pointing contemptshously wi' his whup-shaft at me ! The
vera sicht o' me wad mak' an Englisher flee up a ' closs '
to be safe oot o' my sicht, or pap doon on his knees an'
pathetically plead for mercy."
" John Macfarlan, is this a' my thanks for sittin' up
74 MRS. MACFAELAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER.
to a' hours knittin' a Tarn o' Shanter for ye, when I should
by richts ha'e been sleepin' in niy bed ? But what's the mean-
ing o' a' this bitter talk I canna understan' ; yer a cruel-
hearted man ! that's what ye are ! "
" Oh, ay, Betty, that's a' vera fine ; but I saw mysel' ten
minutes since, as I was sayin', and I got a big fricht, I
can tell ye ! "
" An' pray, whaur did ye see yersel' then ? "
" In yin o' the Colosseum windows owre-bye in Jamaica
Street," said Johnny, assuming as grave a countenance as
the joke would allow of. " An' I can tell ye, that if
my Tarn o' Shanter measured an inch across the tap it
covered nae less than fowr feet ! "
" Is this oor boat ? " curtly asked Mrs. Macfarlan, not
condescending to further parley.
" Ay, Betty, this is oor boat," answered Johnny, moving
promptly in the direction of the gangway, and presently they
were all aboard — including the three tied-up umbrellas, the
baggy portmanty, the " squealin' " basket perambulator, and
alang wi' the rest — Johnny Macfarlan and his grand new
Tarn o' Shanter !
" Hullo, there, Betty, whaur are ye gaun ? Woman, that's
the cabin end ye're makiu' for : this way for the
steerage ! "
Such was Johnny's salute as he turned about on stepping
aboard the steamer and saw his worthy spouse making self-
conscious tracks for the cabin. Mrs. Macfarlan, however,
notwithstanding that she perfectly well heard her husband's
warning, did not once deign to look round, but kept moving
steadily cabinwards, quite like a lady accustomed to that
semi-genteel latitude — ahem ! Johnny glowered after her
a moment like one bewildered. The cabin ! what was in
the mad woman's head ? Stuffing the basket perambulator
in among a lot of miscellaneous luggage lying on the bridge-
deck, Johnny at once fixed on his auld specks, and with his
MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER. 75
three tied-up umbrellas stuck under his arms, went off to
recall to reason his extravagant wife.
The cabin was pretty well filled, and Johnny had some
little difficulty in picking out from the rest his enterprising
spouse. Very soon, however, he found her seated at the
extreme end of the cabin — as far distant from the steerage
as she could possibly get — with her face to the crowds that
lined the quay, and her extensive family circle spread around
her in very noticeable display. The picture was very highly
interesting, and obviously only wanted the patriarchal-
looking figure-head of Johnny himself to worthily complete
the homogeneity of the general family photograph.
And that philosophic figure-head was not long awanting,
Johnny was there presently with his specks on, and his
three tied-up umbrellas tucked under his left arm.
" Mrs. Macfarlan," he began, " are ye in yer seven sober
senses ? "
" Never was wicer in my life, Johnny," w as the sententious
reply.
" Are ye aware that this is — the cabin ? " his voice
lowered to an awe-inspiring whisper.
" Quite aware o' that, Johnny," answered Mrs. Mac-
farlan.
" An' are ye gaun to sail in the cabin ? but no ! it's
no possible ! "
" Sit doon, man ; sit doon an' no mak' a public fule o'
yersel."
Johnny at once sat doon, and forthwith concluded in his
own mind that the family purse was in a fatter condition
than he had all along been led to believe, and that Betty
was a " fly yin," and could work him when she liked, "just
like meal bannocks."
" Weel, Betty," he resumed after a pause, " I wisna
anticipating a sail to Eothesay in the ' cabin ' when I cam'
oot this mornin."
76 MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS BOON THE WATTER.
"We're no gaun to llothesay in the cabin, since yer
sae particular, Mr. Macfarlan."
" And what in the name o' common sense are ye daein'
here, then ? this is the cabin end, woman ! "
" Man, ye're awfu' saft i' the heid. Talk aboot yer Tarn
o' Shanter bringin' ye intae ridicule. Man yer heid's no
worthy o't ; it's just covering a muckle turnip."
" Confound you for a trick ! isn't this the cabin end ? "
stoutly persisted the worthy husband.
"Man, d'ye no ken yet, often as ye've been doon the
Clyde, that they never lift the fares till they've left Dum-
barton I Sit doon, Johnny, sit doon ; a fine thing it wad
be if somebody in the boat here, or amang the folks on the
quay there, should see us packed like sheep in the steerage,
an' should gang an' tell my twa but-an'-ben neibors, Mrs.
Howdie, and Mrs. Draggletails aboot it ; but if they hear <V
us being seen sittin' in the cabin, fegs, that'll be something
for the spitefu' jauds to chowe at their leisure."
" Faith, Betty, ye're a truly managin' woman ! there's no
a doot o' that ! Cabin to Dumbarton an' steerage to Bothe-
say ! There's variety for a workin' man ; an' a' for the
price o' steerage fare, tae ! Diplomacy for ever ! hoo !
But Johnny's indiscreet hooray was summarily checked
by Mrs. Macfarlan dealing him a most vigorous and wind-
displacing dunch on the ribs, at the same moment ordering
Johnny to " haud his bletherin' tongue," and also to " tak ' :
aff his auld specks, an' no' to sit glowerin' at the folks on
the quay, " like some hamesucken weaver that had never
been twa mile west o' Camlachie in his life."
" Ay, ay, Betty, lass," was Johnny's free rejoinder ;
" cabin passage to Dumbarton; I'd put up wi' a lot for thai
distinction," and putting past his specks he philosophically
folded his " twa airms " and sat perfectly still till the start-
ing of the steamer, a homely picture of easy circumstances
and reposeful marriage bliss.
MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WAITER. 77
At length the hour of ten came round — tardily, as most
things waited for do come — and Johnny, his spouse, and
their numerous family were presently off on their annual
Fair holiday doon-the-watter trip. What need to describe
a sail down the world-famous Clyde. Every Glasgowegian
is familiar with it, and knows well its every point of historic
interest and scenic beauty, from the busy old Broomielaw
to the sea-washed Cumbraes. After an eventful voyage of
three hours and a half, Mrs. Macfarlan, and her family
including Johnny and his Tarn o' Shanter, were all safely
deposited on the popular quay of Eothesay.
" Weel, there's nae penny to pey at the pier here, an'
that's yae blessin' to a man wi' a numerous family," was
Johnny's first remark.
" Pit on yer specks, Johnny, an' look oot for a ' Furnished
Eoom to Let ' ticket ; we'll need three beds intae't, ye ken,"
said Mrs. Macfarlan, when they had passed from the spacious
pier to the streets.
Johnny at once adjusted his glasses, and forthwith pro-
ceeded to look up and down the streets and lanes with the
inquiring scrutiny of a moneyed man about to make an
extensive purchase of street property.
" Yonder's the vera thing, Betty," presently exclaimed
our hero, directing the points of his three tied-up umbrellas
at a microscopic attic fixed near the sky, seeing which,
a nervous old gentleman, ensconced at the window directly
below the said attic, suddenly shut down his window and
disappeared like magic, thinking, doubtless, that Johnny,
whom he obviously regarded as some drunken mad-
man, was about to discharge a loaded gun at his head.
The three tied-up umbrellas had evidently a formidable
look.
" What ! awa' up yonder, Johnny ? No, no ! we didna
come doon here a' the road to roost in some Eothesay sky-
licht like sparrows. We maun get intae a grun'-flat hoose ;
78 MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER.
no to be spendin' oor precious win' spielin' up nae end o'
stairs."
" Here ye are, then/' joyfully exclaimed Johnny, " here's
the vera thing noo — a room on the grim'- fiat. Let's gang
in an' see what's what here."
So Johnny went in first to reconnoitre and cannily
" spier " terms. In five seconds, however, he was out again,
with a merry laugh on his face.
" Twenty-five shillings a week ! an', by jing, a man
could nae get room to whup a cat in't ! "
" Twenty-five shillings a week for yae apairtment ! "
breathlessly exclaimed Mrs. Macfarlan, " an' hoo mony
beds ? "
" Oh, lots o' beds, hail! five o' them, nae less — twa set-
in beds, a fauldin'-doon bed, a 'mak-up' bed on an auld sofa,
an a ' shake-doon ' bed on the floor. There's a variety o'
beds for ye ! "
" We'll gie that bargain the go-bye, Johnny, an' look for
some place else."
And they did try somewhere else, for the space of two
hours, and, at last, fairly out-wearied with the search, they
fixed upon a small room, with the use of the kitchen, at one
pound per week. Johnny had already seen so much comedy
in the offers of " rooms " made him during his two hours'
search, that he was able to hear, without swearing, the
highly imaginative Highland landlady declare that the
kitchen he had just taken was " weel stockit wi' tishes an'
knives, an' forks," and that the room was " rale praw
furnish." Eegarding the cubic space at disposal, when a
stout stranger entered the apartment it was filled, when he
proceeded to hang up his hat it was crowded, when lie
sneezed it was confusion, and when he struck an easy
attitude with his umbrella it was a dead block all round.
" Faith, Betty," humorously observed Johnny when they
had all got squeezed in, " you an' I'll need to see an' no
MES. MACFAELAN GANGS DOON THE WATTEE. 79
cast oot while here, for there's scprcely room to fecht here
withoot skinning the knuckles."
" Weel, weel, Johnny, we're doon the watter, onyway,
that's yae consolation ; besides, we need to dae little rnair
than merely sleep in't ye ken."
" Faith, an' I'm concerned aboot that same. I'm just half
feared I'll hae to sleep wi' my legs in the lobby ; an'
between draughts o' chilly nicht air, an' late lodger's fa'in'
owre my legs in the dark, the prospect's no particularly in-
viting. The situation to me, at least, is prophetic o' the
rheumatics. Next ' Fair ' we'll try the effect o' guid kintra
air, Betty, east awa by Cum'slang or Camlachie, wi'
sammon-trout fishin' in the Clyde, diversified wi' picturesque
rambles roun' the coal-pits."
" Will ye haud yer provokin' tongue aboot that odious
Camlachie ! I just hate the mention o't ! "
" Hoots, woman, ye're no up to time ava'. Are ye no
aware we hae a member o' Parliament for Camlachie ? I've
a hauf notion to stan' for the district mysel'. Hoo wad
this dae — Mr. John Macfarlan, Esq., M.P., Honourable
Member for Camlachie ? " and Johnny laughed heartily in
the chair where he sat.
" Weel, when yince the tea's on the table we'll maybe
thole to hear yer jokes, Johnny ; but, meantime, I maun
gang oot an' get in some groceries. But whaur's that new
bannet o' mine ? Weel, that's strange I had it on my heid
twa minutes since, an' noo it's nowhere to be seen, up nor
down ! "
" The hoose is not that big, Betty ; it shouldna be that
faur astray. Look roun' again, it canna be oot the
room."
" Well, that is strange," resumed the perplexed Mrs.
Macfarlan, dropping mechanically into one of the two avail-
able chairs. " It's no hung up on a nail, it's no in either
o' the twa beds, neither is it on the table, an' whaur it
80 MES. MACFAELAN GANGS DOON THE WATTEE.
really can be I canna even guess," and Mrs. Macfarlan
sighed quite audibly.
" Neither can it be on ony o' the twa remaining chairs,"
added Johnny, " for 'tween you an' me they're baith oc-
cupied."
At the word " chairs " a quick suspicion seemed to seize
the mind of Mrs. Macfarlan. Directing a sharp glance at
Johnny's chair, she noticed, with a shriek of horror, the end
of the blue ribbons of her grand new bonnet depending from
underneath Johnny's posterior quarters, and flinging up both
her hands, she screamed aloud, and knew no more ! Johnny
rose and looked at the chair whereon he had been sitting,
on the seat of which was spread out, as flat's a veritable
flounder, Mrs. Macfarlan's splendid new bonnet, fair crushed
to stoor !
The situation was truly critical, Mrs. Macfarlan's new
bonnet was practically extinguished, and she herself " cowpit
owre in a fent ! " At once Johnny ran down to the shore
for a jugful of " saut watter," with the intent of dashing it
in the face of his overcome spouse, concluding, like the
rest of the Glasgow folks, the " saut watter " to be a special
specific for the cure of almost all diseases. Eeturning in
great haste he was pleased to see Mrs. Macfarlan so far
recovered as to be able to sit up in her chair. She had
the unfortunate bonnet in her hand, and was all but
weeping over its irreparable destruction.
" If it had even had the nine lives o' a cat they wad hae
been fairly crushed oot o't," he heard her saying to herself
as he abruptly thrust his head inside the door.
" Try a Tarn o' Shanter next time, Betty," he exclaimed,
breaking in on her pathetic soliloquy ; " ye can then row yer
bannet, like mine, intae a ba' an' stap it oot o' the road
in yer pouch."
" Is that indeed you, ye destructive villain ? whaur hae
ye been, sir, tell me that this instant ? "
MES. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER. 81
" I was awa doon at the great Bothesay apothecary seein'
if I could get ye some medicine, Betty, to bring ye back
oot o' that fentin' fit ye took .twa minutes since."
" What apothecary, Johnny ? "
" The ' saut watter ' apothecary, Betty ; I've a jugfu' o' his
medicine here ; it costs naething, an' it's said to be worth
much. The half o' this wat ' pill ' dash't in yin's face
micht wauken even a corpse — no to speak o' a leevin'
woman, merely in a fent ! " And Johnny put down the jug
on the table.
" Johnny Macfarlan, did ye actually mean to empty that
jugfu' o' dirty shore-watter about my heid and face ? "
" Dirty watter ? " said Johnny, emphasizing the adjective
to the point of a deliberate question.
" Ay, dirty watter ! " as emphatically retorted his angry
spouse.
" As true as death I did, Betty, dirty or clean ! "
" Then I'll treat ye to a taste o' yer ain cure," rejoined
Mrs. Macfarlan, and, springing to her feet, she seized the jug
with the intention of treating Johnny's face to its con-
tents.
Johnny, however, was too quick for her, and anticipating
domestic war, he wedded instant action to lightning resolve,
and backing towards the " jee'd " door, he hurriedly ex-
claimed —
" Ye've gotten ' lodgin's ' a' richt, Betty ; ye've the big half
o' the purse in yer pouch ; ye're recovered o' yer fell fent ;
an' as I'm something in the road I'll at yince clear oot o'
this till next Friday ; ta-ta ! "
" Johnny Macfarlan, come back this minute, if ye've ony
respect for the wife o' yer bosum."
" No this time, Betty, no this time ; I'm owre old a
domestic kittlin' to be tickled wi' a strae. I'm aff to Gleska !
I'll see ye on Fair-Friday mornin' ; ta-ta ! " and wheeling
right about our hero made speedy tracks for the steamboat
s. s. 6
82 MRS. MACFARLAN GANGS DOON THE WATTER.
pier, where he found a fast river clipper on the point of
starting for the up run to Glasgow.
" Faith," thought Johnny, " that was a smart retreat —
close order, an' trail ainns a' the way ! Mrs. Macfarlan 'ill
be in a cooler skin by next Friday, I hope, when I'll be
doon for guid," and making his way to the " neb " of the
boat, so as to avoid cabin complications, he sat down to
comfortably rest and perspire, deeply thankful in heart that
his Tarn o' Shanter would cover, for at least four days to
come, the whole o' his family when drawn over his homely
brows.
" Yes ! " added Johnny to himself, by way of a climax,
" there's waur misfortunes in this world than the want o' a
big wife an' a sma' family, as a lot o' workin' men in Gleska
ken this blessed day."
SANDY M TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GO VAN
I GAED abroad last Saturday afternoon, and returned safe
hame again the same evening.
" Get oot my storm hat, my prospect gless, an' my dooble-
ribbit umbrella," said I to my wife, Kirsty, " for I'm bound
for a foreign land !"
" A foreign land !" exclaimed Kirsty, " an' hoo faur's
that?"
" A' the way to Govan in the penny steamers — sink or
800IU ! "
Weel, I got a' finely rigg't oot for the voyage, an' Kirsty,
richt reason or rang, wad see me awa' at the quay, as there
was nae sayin' what micht happen on the voyage oot.
"It wasna the first ship that had left auld Scotia's shore,"
.she said, " an' never returned to tell the tale !"
But the voyage to Govan didna fricht me very much ; it
SANDY M 'TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GO VAN. 83
was the smell o' the Clyde that bothered me. I had been
farrer abroad than Govan in my day, an' was, in a sense, a
sort o' experienced Clyde sailor.
But, speaking aboot the line strong sea smell o' the
Clyde, I ventured the length o' the foreign shores o' Bowling
tvva years since, an' I got sic a fricht wi' the smell o' the
river that I cam' back to Gleska by the Canal, for I'm fair
daft for the sea. But danger o' anither kind overtook me
there. When hauf way hame the horse-rope suddenly broke,
an' we drifted back an' struck the bank, A' was confusion
an' despair for twa minutes.
"The horse-rope's gone !" sang oot the captain; "stand
by the pumps ! "
But I had got enough o't, I thocht, so I jump't in an'
waded ashore, and syne walked hame !
But aboot my recent voyage to Govan. It was a Satur-
day afternoon, as I said, an' there was a big crood o'
emigrants waiting for embarkation, like mysel', at Victoria
Quay, near the fit o' the auld Stockwell. I got planted
weel forrit, near the neb o' the boat, an' after a lot o'
preliminary fareweels and haun'-shaking, the ship's whussle
was blawn, an' we cast aff in fine style amid a lot of heart-
heezin' hurrahs, an' gettin' oor neb turned seawards, we
steamed doon the river in grand style, no leavin', as far as
my observation went, yae single dry e'e ahint us.
" Write soon," were the last words I heard Kirsty utter,
as she stood on the quay wringin' the tears oot o' her pocket-
handkerchief.
" I will," says I, " the moment I set my fit on foreign
soil, if there's a post-office within fifty miles o' me."
We had a splendid voyage to Jamaica Street Brig, the
weather being nice an' moderate a' the way doon, an' the sea
quite calm an' smooth. When passing under the Suspension
Brig we spoke the Clutha No. 2 on the up run. Oor
captain hailed her, an' Captain M'Sporran, her gallant
84 SANDY M'TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GO VAN.
skipper, reported " all well," but intimated " rough weather
below the bridges."
When nearin' the Brooinielaw we saw signs o' civilization
in the shape o' some auld cabbage leaves floatin' in the
watter, alang wi' an empty match-box, an' some orange
skins. At this port we took on board some mair emigrants,
an' then stood oot to sea yince mair. A wee bit below
Jamaica Street we encountered a heavy fog frae the smoke
o' an engine crossin' the Caledonian Railway brig, but oor
gallant skipper kept on his course, blawin' the fog-signal a'
thi road like mad. Below the brig the win' began to blaw
an' the sea to rise, so that I took the precaution o' tying
doon my hat wi' an auld buit lace I had brocht wi' me for
that express purpose.
" What's yon ?" asked yin o' my fellow-passengers as we
emerged frae the heavy fog.
" That's the tower o' the Sailors' Home," said I, applying
my prospect gloss to the object.
" Eh, man," he answered, " we're faur oot to sea !"
" I've been a bit faurer than this," I answered, " an' said
less aboot it."
" Hoo faur ?"
" Dumbarton !" I firmly replied, withoot movin' a muscle
o' my face.
That settled him ! He gied me yae incredulous look, an'
hurried awa' abaft as fast's he could.
When crossin' owre to Clyde Street ferry we passed by a
tug steamer which flung up some terrible big waves, an' gied
us twa-three desperate " shoos." Some o' the women folks
were yellin' for mercy, and haudin' on by whatever was
nearest them.
Yae auld wife, wi' a basket o' dishes an' a hawker's
bundle, cried oot to me — "Oh, sir, save my bundle!"
" In a crisis like this," quo 1, haudin' on by my hat," it's
every man for himsel' !"
SANDY M'TAKTAN'S VOYAGE TO GOVAN. 85
After that wee bit incident I gaed aft the vessel an'
peeped doon into the reserved cabin, whaur I saw an auld
maid adjustin' her dress-improver, that had got sair knockit
ajee in the tussle.
We had four o' a crew, I may tell ye — the skipper, first
■and second mate, an' a wee " ticket " laddie. The captain I
found to be a fine, experienced, weather-beaten seaman.
He had been twice wrecked on the Paisley Canal, and had
to jump ashore on each occasion for his life. He was a rale
Al at Lloyd's son o' the ocean, an' spoke quite calmly o' an
approaching storm which was likely to nozzle us between
Stobcross Docks an' Partick. He had every confidence in
his ship, hooever. an' the passengers had every confidence in
him.
Speaking o' the passengers, oor company was a mixed lot.
The feck o' the folk aboard were Gleska men like mysel' ;
but we had, in addition, twa Paisley buddies, a wheen Irish
quay workers, twa-three women wi' dish baskets an' hawkers'
bundles, a fond young couple on their marriage jaunt, an' a
mechanic, wha had lost an e'e lookin' for wark in
Gleska.
Weel, jist ootside o' the Stobcross docks the weather got
heavy, an' we had a gale, jist as the captain had prophesied.
To mak' things worse, twa river steamers passed us at the
same time, an' left us heavin' wildly in the trough o' the
sea. Talk aboot gales at sea. It was for five minutes a
perfect wee Atlantic. In the worst bit o' the crisis wu
shipped a heavy sea that wash't awa' a hawker's bundle an
twa watter buckets. After this the maist o' the passengers
gaed doon below for shelter, but I stuck by the saloon deck,
an' watched, wi' the e'e o' a poet, the wild play o' the wat-
ters. At this juncture I saw yin o' the passengers haudin'
his heid owre the side, an' tryin' to vomit; his face was the
colour o' writin' paper.
"Are ye sick, my man ?" <iuo' I.
86 SANDY M'TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GOVAN.
" Yes," says he, " I could stan' the smoke o' the funnel
but the smell o' the watter's finished me."
Shortly after this the sky darkened doon, an' we lost oor
reckonin' a' thegither. I confess that I felt sort o' nervous,
when I heard the captain hurriedly summons all hands on
deck, including the wee ticket laddie.
" Stand by the fore chains," he cried, " we're three yairds
off oor track ; look out for Partick Pier ! "
" Ay, ay, sir," sang back the look out, " ship on the
weather-bow, hard-a-port ! "
" Hard-a-port it is," shouted back the captain, an' round
to port we swung, jist in time to escape collision wi' a Clyde
Trust tug.
I confess I never was gladder in my life than I was to
see the familiar form o' Partick Pier loomin' in the distance.
As we steamed in I asked yin o' the crew if they often had a
storm like this ?
" Oh," says he, " this is naething ; the kittly bit's to
come yet, crossin' owre frae Partick to Govan."
" What ! " says I, " an' we're no' thro' the warst o't yet ? "
An' wi' that I jumps on the pier, jist as the vessel was
backin' oot.
" Hillo ! you there ! " cried the sailor after me, "this is no'
Govan, it's only Partick Pier yet."
" A' richt, my frien," says I, " sea-voyagin' is nae better
than its ca'd ; I'm gaun back to Gleska by the tramway
cars."
An' so I did gang back by the Partick cars, as I wisna
willin' to face a side-sea in crossin' owre to Govan. On
the road hame I consulted my note-book, an' I found that I
had coontit nae less than seventeen different colours o' watter
between the Broom elaw an' Partick. There's variety for
ye! Talk aboot the different shades o' the briny ocean.
Tak' a voyage to Govan in yin o' the Clyde " penny "
steamers, an' ye'll get material for a learned essay on the
SANDY M'TARTAN'S VOYAGE TO GO VAN. 87
subject. Besides, the watter's a' rale genuine sea-watter the
haill way doon, for there's no a single drap o' fresh watter
to be seen frae the yae en' o' the voyage to the ither.
Neither should I omit to mention the balmy breezes we
enjoyed a' the way doon, an' which were perfectly suffo-
cating. They stuck to the nostrils like bile't glue. Then
we had some delicious whiffs o' the many oderiferous
sanitary tributaries that empty themselves intae the Clyde.
They're a' alike, highly perfumed, refreshin' streams, an'
affect the nostrils like strong snuff.
Mercy, me ! what a sunburnt face I had when I got back
to my ain bit hoose in the Coocaddens ; Kirsty didna ken
me !
" What hae ye brocht me frae abroad," says she, the
moment I entered her presence ; " a grand new bonnet frae
Paris, I hope ? "
" Tuts, woman, you women folks are aye after bonnets an'
sic-like falderals; I've brocht baith you an' mysel' somethin'
mair substantial an' lively than that ; I've brocht mysel'
hanie a pund o' sweet tobaccky "
" An' me, what ? "
" A cocoa nut an' a blue monkey ! "
Weel, frien's, I've been abroad in foreign pairts, as ye noo
ken ; but, I wad advise a' ye wha intend takin' a sea- voyage
for the benefit o' yer health in yin o' the Clyde " penny "
steamers, to securely plug your noses wi' cotton before
startin', or ye're likely to be kept sneezin' a' the road up an'
doon, like an' auld horse affected wi' the glanders.
BOBIN BIGG AND THE MINISTEB.
Robin Rigg was a West of Scotland ploughman chiel, who
was in farm service in Upper Clydesdale. Robin was an
88 ROBIN BIGG AND THE MINISTER.
honest, plain-going, unsophisticated man, and, although
neither a scholar nor a theologian, he was none the less a
consistent doer of his daily duty in an humble but service-
able way. In point of fact, Eobin, honest man, never
meddled with, nor even consented to listen to, discussed
theology, nor church creed and government, excepting,
perhaps, on a Saturday night, when the " clachan yill " was
in his head. For Eobin was a real typical Scotchman, and
took to the discussion of theology when " fou " as naturally
as a retriever dog takes to the water. But even then
Eobin Eigg was often badly at sea on this subject, and was
in the habit of roundly declaring that " kirk theology was
for a' the worl' jist like a bit o' teuch girsle — wersh in the
mouth, an' unco ill to chowe."
Anyhow, Eobin, honest man, never made much real
progress in the knowledge of things spiritual, as exemplified
in the text of the Shorter Catechism and the written law of
Moses. He hated technical points and confusing details,
but went in heartily for facts as being something that lie
could get " a guid haud o', an' see clearly wi' his ain twa
e'en." For instance, he could admire the iig-an'-fur of a
new-ploughed field, he knew the points of a horse or a
1 Hillock, he could tell how many handles a plough had, and
was a pretty safe authority on the weather, but he was not
at all up in the text of the Ten Commandments, nor in the
obligations attached to church membership. The tone of
his mind, in fact, was the reverse of evangelical, and on
Sundays, when he gaed to the kirk, he sat in his pew and
simply " tholed " the sermon as he would have done a dull
toothache — with this difference, that while the toothache
kept him painfully awake, the sermon commonly sent him
asleep, for which reason Eobin cannily thought the minister's
sermon much the easier to "thole."
But Eobin was now a full twelvemonth married, and a
certain interesting event, not by any means unusual in the
KOBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER. 89
circumstances, had quite recently happened at his humble
fireside, which necessitated on his part a regular attendance
at church for a few Sundays at least, with a prospective
private call at the minister's house in addition. A wee
stranger had taken possession of his goodwife's knee, and,
acting under the shrewd direction of his better-half, Eobin
had been putting in a preliminary attendance at the kirk for
the past two Sunday afternoons. The interesting event was
quite a new experience to Eobin, and he was naturally much
concerned and put about as to how he would be best able to
fulfil in a proper and becoming manner all the necessary
civil and religious obligations it entailed upon him. And
the amount of exacting and trying work he had to face and
go through in connection with the birth, registration, and
church baptism of that same small six-weeks-old son and
heir, fairly amazed him, and in the end all but completely
dumfoundered him. Why, the whole subject, small as it
was, was tied round and round with no end of formal red
tape, and was officially stamped with equally red and
equally formal impressions of sealing wax.
" Faith," thought Eobin to himself, " it's a fine thing for
the circulation o' the bluid to be a faither ! It's no six
weeks since I got a son an' heir, an' I've been on the happy
trot efter yae thing an' anither ever since."
In the first place, the event was not a week old when
Eobin, the happy father, had to trudge into the town to
buy a second-hand cradle. And a particularly happy man
was Eobin Eigg, as you may easily conceive, when carrying-
home that same night that very important article of
domestic house furniture — a cradle. And what a cradle !
He had purchased a bargain, and nothing less. The cradle
he had purchased was a capacious and most substantial-
looking article. In other family circles it had done veteran
service in the domestic line for at least a couple of genera-
tions back. He had purchased it for three-and- sixpence,
90 ROBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER.
cash down, and the article, in the lump, was about value for
twice the purchase-money in old wood. Talk about rockin'
twins in a cradle! Why, that same old cradle had ample
accommodation for triplets — aye, or even " quadrupeds," as
honest Eobin sincerely put it. The cradle secured, the
happy father had next to register the child's birth. This
done, he was next advised by his better-half to make strict
inquiry as to the best and safest method of " gettin' the
pock on the wean's airm," which, once accomplished, put
many squally, sleepless nights in beautiful prospect for poor
Eobin, with the purchase of some soothing powders, and a
baby's rattle in addition !
But by far the most momentous and trying obligation
which Eobin was called upon to face was the ordinance of
Christian baptism. The mere " haudin' up o' the bairn " in
the church gave him no concern whatever, that being a
question simply of physical strength. And he had lots of
that. He could easily " haud up " twins, triplets, or even
" quadrupeds " for that part of it. But the preliminary
examination by the minister was what gave honest Eobin the
shakers. So long as folk sensibly kept to horse and kye,
the crops, and the weather, he was right enough ; but bring
up the Law of Moses, or the equally confusing text of the
Ten Commandments, and honest Eobin Eigg was at once
floored, felled, and flabergasted. But it was absolutely
imperative that the child should be baptized in the regular
way, at whatever personal cost. Mrs. Eigg firmly insisted
on the kittle point, and there was no escape from the
inevitable.
" Noo, Eobin," said his worthy wife one afternoon,
" ye'll snod yersel' up a bit, an' tak' a stap alang
to the minister's an' arrange aboot the baptism o' the
wean ; for the bairn's noo haill six weeks auld, an's a
braw, sonsie wean at the age, although I say't that maybe
shoodna."
KOBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER. 91
"An' what are we to cat, then?" asked Robin, scratching
at his puzzled head.
" Oh, what better could we dae than jist to ca't efter its
ain worthy faither," answered the wife.
At this handsome compliment honest Robin smiled from
ear to ear, till his unsophisticated face assumed the open
expression of a well-boiled potato.
" Wee Robin ! wee Robin Rigg ! " muttered the delighted
parent, " what a nice, naitural, nackie bit name for the wee
mannie ! Ay, ay, wife ; I'll e'en gang an' see the minister
aboot the maitter this very nicht. But d'ye ken, wife,"
added Robin in a sort of frightened underbreath, " I'm a wee
fear't for some o' the ticklish questions he may ask me ; the
Commandments frichten me a'thegither."
" Oh, man, ye needna stammer owre that simple maitter ;
jist tell him there's ten o' them an' be dune wi't."
"Ten o' them," mechanically repeated Robin, counting
over his ten fingers, " ten o' them ; a' richt, I'll try an' mind
that."
Within half an hour Robin was on the road to the
minister's, his weather-beaten face specially washed for the
occasion, and about a whole pennyworth of hair oil rubbed
into the roots of his rather toozie hair to " mak' it lie doon
kin' o' Christian-like," as Robin phrased it. When nearing
the manse door Robin took a sudden fit of the shakers, and
was so badly plucked of spirit that he was forced to go back
a couple of hundred yards to the village inn for a refresh-
ment. Arrived there, he called for " a gless o' the very
best," in a burning hurry — like a man anxious to catch a
train.
" Ye're in a fell hurry, Robin," remarked the innkeeper.
" Haud yer tongue ; I'm gaun up to the minister's, an' I'm
in sair need o' a nerve-steadyin' dram."
" Gaun up to the minister's, Robin ? What's the maitter ?
A's richt at hanie, I hope ? "
1)2 ROBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER.
" Oh, ay ; a's richt enough at hame," replied Eobin ; " in
fact, I may truly say that things are fair bloomin' owre-bye ;
I'm gaun to see the minister aboot a baptism."
"Whew !" whistled the inkeeper, "is that a' ?"
"What! is't no plenty?"
" Plenty ! man, Eobin, that's but a sma' maitter to be in
a way aboot ; I've been thirteen times on that same errand
mysel', nae less ! "
" Thirteen times !" exclaimed Eobin, in blank astonish-
ment. " Faith, lad, ye've had your kail thro' the week !
Thirteen times ! let's see what that means. It means
thirteen bottles o' whisky, thirteen cheeses, thirteen
pocks on the airm, thirteen visits to the minister, thirteen
public appearances in the kirk, and thirteen cradles ! Faith,
my man, ye'll ken a' aboot the maitter then ? " added Eobin,
scratching his perplexed head.
" Ken aboot what, Eobin ?"
" Oh, the answering o' the minister's questions. He's new
to the parish, ye ken, an' I'm no certain hoo he may tackle
me. Besides, I'm a fair ' frost ' in Scripter."
" Tuts, man, that's an easy task, Eobin ; it's a' as plain as
a pike staff, an's as easy to answer as — ' Whaur was Moses
when the can'le gaed oot?' If ye but ken the simple
Commandments ye'll dae brawly."
" Ay, but that's jist whaur the shae grups ; ye see, I'm
no deid sure o' their number, although I think oor wife
tell't me there were jist nate ten, if I'm no in error there ?"
" Oh, that's but a sma' maitter to hing in doubt owre,"
said the innkeeper, with a sly laugh ; "sorne say there's ten,
an' some mak' oot there's eleven, but gie him plenty o' them,
Eobin, an' ye're as safe's the bank."
This was so far good, Eobin thought, but it failed to fully
reassure h'm. The innkeeper's facetious words, however, along
with his inspiring whisky, had a certain screwing-up effect
on his wavering mind. So up to the door of the manse he
ROBIN KIGG AND THE MINISTER. 93
boldly went, and was presently standing uncovered in the
presence of the veritable minister ! After a cordial greeting
the reverend gentleman very naturally inquired of Eobin as
to the immediate purpose of his visit.
" It's — it's — it's aboot oor bairn," faltered out Eobin,
twirling his bonnet between his hands.
"Oh! your child; nothing serious the matter, I hope?"
" No, no," said Eobin, with a proud alteration of the
countenance, " the bairn's only six weeks auld next Wednes-
day nicht, an' I may tell you he was never in better health
in his life. The mistress has sent me alang to arrange wi'
ye aboot the baptism."
"Oh! a baptism, is it? " said the minister. "I'm very
glad to find you here on such a happy occasion. Kindly
be seated for a little ; you know it is necessary that we
should have a little conversation, and that I should put a
few simple questions to you before undertaking to baptise
your child."
"Weel, then, minister, ye'll bargain no to gie's ony
ticklers," put in Eobin, distractedly working his bonnet in
his hands.
" On the contrary, my good man; I'll try to be as plain
and simple as I possibly can. Of course, you know the
text of the Mosaic Decalogue? "
" The what, did you say, minister ? " exclaimed honest
Eobin with a start.
" The Decalogue — the written law of Moses, you know?"
;< If, eh — if, eh — if a conversation on the weather, or on
the craps, wad pit the job by, I could meet ye hauf-way
there, minister," said Eobin.
"Oh, nonsense! nonsense!" said the minister. "Of
course you know how many commandments there are ? "
Eobin scratched his head in deep perplexity. The awful
suddenness of the question seemed to knock his memory all
to pieces. How many commandments really were there ?
94 EOBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER.
he asked himself. His wife said ten ; some said eleven ;
while the innkeeper said — " Gie him plenty o' them." Re-
solving the kittle question in his mind for a few moments,
he at length faltered out —
" You were askin' me, minister — you were, I say, askin'
me. "Wad ye kindly repeat that last question, minister, as
slowly and as distinctly as ye can, so that I may be able to
grup the various heids o't ? "
" Oh ! it's simply how many commandments are there,
my dear, good man ? "
Robin tried to think out the question, but his memory
had taken leg-bail. Remembering, however, the innkeeper's
advice to " gie him plenty o' them," he stood in doubt for a
moment, wondering what generous figure he might best ven-
ture on, with credit to himself and satisfaction to the minister.
Perceiving his perplexity, the minister once more said, by
way of encouragement —
"The question, my good man, is a perfectly simple one ;
it's just this: How many commandments are there ? "
" Sixteen ! " shouted Robin.
The minister fell back in astonishment and concern.
" Robin, my good man," he said, "you are not, I fear,
quite prepared to have your child baptised."
"Oh! quite prepared, minister; I've a bottle o' whisky
an' a twa-stane cheese laid by against the occasion."
" No, no, my good man ; I now perceive more clearly
than ever that you are not fit to hold up your child for
baptism."
" What, minister ! me no' fit to haud up the bairn !
.Man, I could haud up a young calf " — (keeping his hands
see-sawing up and down in the air.) " No haud up a
wean ! Man, I could haud up twins, triplets, or even
quadrupeds ! "
" Oh, deplorable ! deplorable ! " sighed the dumfoundered
minister. " You must go home, my dear man, and consult
KOBIN RIGG AND THE MINISTER. 95
your good-wife on the matter, and I'll look in on you
to-morrow night, when I hope to find you better prepared
for examination."
This said, the minister retired to the privacy of his
study with great precipitancy, while honest Robin, thinking-
he had asserted his " preparedness " in proper style, set off
for home.
" Weel, Robin, hoo did you succeed wi' the minister?"
was the very first question put to him by his worthy wife.
" Oh, wha could succeed wi' yon learned auld buffer ?
He fairly knock't the breath oot o' me wi' the first ques-
tion," answered Robin.
" An' whit was that, Robin ? "
" Jist imagine ! He wanted me to tell him, richt aff
han' hoo mony commandments there are. There was a
' whussler ' for ye ! "
" Ye great gommeral ! to stick at a trifling question like
that. Didn't I tell ye plainly enough the number o' them?
Siccan stupidity I never heard tell o' ' "
" An' hoo mony dae you mak' them oot to be, since
ye're sae very clever ? " warmly retorted Robin.
" Jist ten, and neither less nor mair, as a'body weel
kens.
" Ten, did ye say ? — only ten ? Ha, ha, ha ! Woman, I
offered him sixteen and he wadna look at them. But hark
ye, guidwife, the minister's comin' roun' here the morn's
nicht, so if ye mean to retain your Christian diploma, tak'
a warnin' frae me. Avoid the rock I struck on, an' dinna
ye offer the greedy auld gentleman less than twenty ! "
JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE.
Johnny Safty was a working dver to trade, and a widower
by misfortune. He was deficient in sentiment, wore cluggs,
s
96 JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE.
and lived in a small house in a back land in Lmkuindoduv
Lane, Eoad-fit, Parish of Camlachie, the door to the left, five
stairs up. His first wife had been something of a slattern,
a type of housewife which honest Johnny, soft as he was by
name and nature, could not stand at all.
" Susan, Susan ! " he used to exclaim, " when are ye
thinkin' o' soopin' the floor ? I'm wadin' ankle-deep in
stoor and hoose-dirt ; an' as for the dishes, I'm free to
affirm that I've tooken my parritch oot o' that crackit bowl
for the thirteenth time since it was last wasn't."
Whereupon easy-osey Susan would tartly exclaim, " Noo,
noo, Johnny, be canny wi' yer tongue a wee! Eegairdin' that
awfu' kitchen floor, I'm never dune soop, soop, soopin't —
mornin', noon, an' nicht. An' as for the maitter o' dish-
washin', my twa han's are never twa minutes oot o' the
hot-watter pot. The dishes were a' wash't last Friday
mornin', an' this is but Tuesday yet ; so, what mair wad ye
reasonably look for aff o' a sair-tried hoosewife, bothered,
time aboot, wi' the tuithache an' the rheumatics ? "
"Weel, weel, Susan," Johnny would helplessly reply,
" the wife buddies maun aye hae their ain say, an' their ain
way baith ;" and, turning his face to the fire, he would light
his auld blackened pipe-end and indulge for ten minutes in
a consolatory smoke.
But there's an end to every trouble in life, and sometimes
a present calamity changes into a final blessing. In time the
" tuithache and the rheumatics" conjointly did for Susan, and
honest Johnny Safty was left a widower. Whether Johnny
actually viewed his first wife's demise as a blessing in disguise,
or merely as a tholable calamity, is not exactly given to say ;
but it is certain that he neither mourned long nor deeply
after her.
In point of fact, she was scarcely " cauld," as the saying
goes, when he took up with Sarah Corkscrew, a tender and
blushing auld maid of sixty. Now, Miss Sural] Corkscrew
JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE. 97
was considered, by herself, a rale catch to the like o' Johnny
Safty. Although she was destined to prove Johnny's second
wife, she was not a second-hand yin — for though sixty, she had
never been married. Her affections were, therefore, fresh and
untried. Besides, Sarah Corkscrew was cleanly to a point,and
that was certain to prove a new domestic experience to Johnny
Safty. What was more, Sarah had a perpetual income, in
her own right, of the magnificent sum of £2 10s. a year.
So that, as Johnny delightedly observed to himself, " wi'
Sarah Corkscrew an' her annuity in near prospect, he
could never actually stairve." Johnny, obviously, was a
man of extremely sanguine imagination.
Their courtship was short, but to the point. " Sarah
Corkscrew," Johnny had gently whispered in her raptured
ear when sitting on the banks of the silvery Clyde one
night, between the Stockwell Brig and Jamaica Street —
" Sarah Corkscrew, I say again, will ye be mine ? "
" Oh, my feelings ! — consider my shocked feelings, Mr.
Safty ! " exclaimed the blushing auld maid o' sixty, " an' gie
me time to think."
" Noo or never ! " exclaimed Johnny ; " will you, will you,
I ask, be mine ? If so, lay your lily-white han' in mine an' pit
me oot o' pain."
" Johnny, I'm yours for aye," was Sarah's answer; and the
dry lips of the mature pair coming together at the moment,
there was presently heard a sound which resembled the
breaking of a bawbee bunch of sticks.
So the matter was settled, and very soon their marriage
was an accomplished fact. But Johnny Safty 's luck, even
in this, his second marriage, seems to have spelled misfortune.
He was hardly settled in his new home when he was pain-
fully aware that he had made a mistake in getting tied to a
second wife off-hand ; for, if his first wife had turned out an
easy-osey slattern, the second Mrs. Safty was likely to prove
an over-pernickety nuisance in the matter of house-cleaning
s. s. 7
98 JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE.
and sweeping. Sarah, in point of fact, was clean gone in
the matter of floor-scrubbing and blacklead-polishing. If
Johnny chanced to leave the " sted " of his cluggs in cross-
ing the floor when returning from the dye-work, it was an
open reproach ; if he ventured on a smoke, and happened
to drop by accident a spittle on the hearthstone or the
fender, it was a screaming offence ; and if an old cronie
happened to look Johnny up of a night, as old cronies will
sometimes do, the said cronie was kept outside the threshold
for ten minutes, scraping imaginary dust and mud off his
boots before being admitted. Things went on this way till
one night the pair had an open " fa'-oot " owre the business.
" O'd, Sarah ! " Johnny exclaimed, after a dispute on the
cleaning question, " I really wish ye wad try and tak' less
pride in yer hoose, an' mair in me. Hang me, if I can
sneeze in my ain hoose withoot being smartly brocht owre
the coals for't. I thocht my first wife owre easy, but you're
a trifle owre keen, Sarah. The very floor's scrubb't white
wi' fricht ; the cat's near-han' oot o' its jidgment for want
o' a spot to pit its frichtit fit on ; an' as for me, I wad need
to sit wi' my twa feet in the air to please ye. It's only
noo I can appreciate the virtues o' my lamented first wife."
" Dinna offer to even yer first wife wi' me, Johnny Safty,
for that I'll no thole. It's an indignity an' a gross domestic
libel ; indeed, I'm no sure but it's actionable at law ; so
mind yer tongue, if you please."
" A fig for you an' the law baith ! " retorted Johnny,
stung into momentary courage ; " I'll hae the yise o' my ain
fireside, richt or wrang ; an' what's mair, I'll smoke, an' spit,
an' gang oot, an' come in as lang an' as often as I like, an'
ye'll no hinder me, Sarah — remember you that ! "
" Smoke as often as ye like, Johnny ; but drap a single,
solitary spittle on my shining fender an' ye'll rue't. When
ye've an hour to spare, ye'll set-tae an' polish my scoorin'-
things — d'ye hear that ? "
JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE. 99
" Hang you an' the scoorin'-things baith ! " cried Johnny.
" I'm fair sick o' the haill bloomin' business ; " and jumping
to his feet, he made for the door, to find an hour's freedom
and solace with twa-three social companions in the village
tap-room.
Here he found Whup-the-Cat, the village tailor; Eab
Bough, the smith ; and auld Davie Mortclaith, the parish
sexton and kirk beadle. The three worthies were seated at
an oblong deal table, before a blazing fire. Half-emptied
porter-pots stood before each of them. The smith and the
tailor each smoked a clay pipe, while the auld sexton, less
modern in his tastes, stuck by his well-filled snuff-box, and
seemed, like the others, happy for the hour.
" Weel, hoo's a' wi' ye the nicht, Johnny ? " was the
general salute as the new-comer entered the room.
Johnny said nothing, but only shook his head in reply.
" Sit doon, Johnny, an' help us to pit a seam or twa in the
nicht's crack," said Whup-the-Cat.
" An' hoo's things gaun at hame ? " asked the smith in a
tone that suggested a previous knowledge of the domestic
situation.
" Waur an' waur," replied Safty. " My wife has fair wash't
an' scoor't me oot o' the hoose the nicht, an' I've cam doon
here for an hour's peace an' quateness. She has daured me
to pit a fit on the floor-heid this nicht withoot first askin'
her permission, otherwise she'll mak' the parritch-spurkle
become closely acquaint wi' the back o' my heid ; " and
John pathetically fingered the back of his head anticipatory
of a new phrenological bump in that quarter.
" Jag her wi' a needle ! " exclaimed Whup-the-Cat.
" Hammer her back to sense," said the brawny smith.
" Bury her," suggested the business-like sexton.
" It's as true as ye're a' sittin' there," insisted Johnny ;
" she's wash't the floor, or, raither, watted it, for the third
time the day, and I'm threatened to within an inch o' my
100 JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE.
life if I offer to leave a single fit-mark on't. Noo, what a
man wi' cluggs is to dae under these circumstances I really
am at a loss to divine."
" I have a theory," suggested Whup-the-Cat.
" Out with it," said the smith.
" What's yer plan ? " asked Johnny.
" It's this," replied Whup-the-Cat : "if Sarah '11 no let ye
cross the floor on yer feet, why, then, gang in on yer han's!"
A chorus of merry laughter succeeded, but poor Safty only
shook his troubled head, and looked more than ever mentally
astray.
" I'm in deid earnest," resumed the ingenious tailor.
" Eestore yer wife to reason by reversing yer perpendicu-
larity. The trick will work a quick cure, I'll wager a six-
pence. To walk intae the hoose on yer han's, wi' yer twa
feet flinging in the air, like the airms o' a tattie-bogle, is the
only really quick an' certain road oot o' the awkward
dilemma. Try the plan, Johnny — try it."
" That wad prove a patent way o' threadin' the domestic
needle," laughed Johnny ; " but I'm no sure if the seam
wad cairry."
" Cairry ! " exclaimed the knight of the needle ; " it'll
cairry like a rifle shot. Try it, Johnny — try it."
" Something decided must be tried, an' that very soon, as
the hoose is nae hame for me," gravely replied Safty. " If
I chance to look glee'd at the fire-aims it's a faut ; a spittle
drap't by accident on the hearth-stane's a scandal ; an' a fit-
mark on the floor is positive murder ; if I but sneeze, the
result is look't after wi' a lichtit can'le ; an' I widna venture
to blaw my auld snuff-hauder in the jaud's hearing for ten
thoosand worlds ! "
" Hammer her into proper domestic shape," said the
smith.
" Bury her," put in the auld sexton.
" Gang in on yer han's, Johnny," persisted the ingenious
JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE. 101
knight of the needle ; " it "11 prove a perfect cure, I'll warrant
ye — try it,"
A second all-round laugh succeeded the repetition of the
tailor's highly-humorous joke. For a good joke, and nothing
more, the facetious knight of the needle meant it
to be.
Johnny, however, took the tailor's joke in dead earnest,
and after two minutes' serious consideration of the sugges-
tion, he decided to at once act on it.
" Ye'll try it, Johnny, will ye ? " put in the tailor, with a
side-wink to the smith.
" This very nicht," replied Johnny ; " an' if I act the daft
yin onything weel, she'll think her mad scrubbin' an' scoorin'
has at last tooken my heid, an' then she'll maybe drap it."
It was ringing ten by the toon clock when Johnny
toddled hame that night, with a new hope in his heart, and
an inspiring " wee drap in his e'e."
Johnny was a very credulous man, but had it not been
for that same courage-inspiring glass of mountain dew, it is
probable he would never have attempted to put into practice
Whup-the- Cat's humorous joke. Johnny had pledged him-
self to the task, however, and he was bent on carrying it to
a successful issue.
" O'd, an' if I dinna gie Sarah a fricht this nicht, when I
gang in across the floor on my han's, wi' my twa cluggs
danglin' in the air, my name's no Johnny Safty," said the
henpecked husband, as he fought his way homewards in the
face of a nor'-east wind, which was tearing down the road
in his face. At length he reached his own door. A gas-jet
burned languidly against the wall, shedding a yellow light
along the narrow lobby. He looked at the bottom of the
door, and he noticed, with a slight start, that a small portion
of the lobby, immediately outside the door, was wet.
" Great sticks ! " he exclaimed, " if the mad woman hasna
gane an' wash't that blessed floor again since I left the hoose
102 JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE.
twa hours since. That's the fourth time this day. The
thing's past a' Christian endurance ; it's positive lunacy."
Johnny meditated a moment before applying his knuckles
to the door. Would he cave in, and, picking his steps
carefully across the newly-wash't floor, slip cannily to bed,
saying naething on the sore subject ? Or, would he pluck
up courage and test his luck by putting into effect the
knight of the needle's laconic advice? Had Johnny's mind
not been fortified with the village ale that evening, he would
most probably have caved in, like the truly feeling and con-
siderate husband he usually was. But Johnny had a gless
in his e'e, and he was heroic to the point of desperation. In
a figurative sense, he would have slain in cold blood the man
who would at that particular moment have dared to insinu-
ate that he, Johnny Safty, working dyer, Linkumdoddy
Lane, Eoad-fit, Camlachie, was at the present moment, or,
for that matter of it, had ever been a henpecked husband,
or, indeed, anything approaching to that feeble domestic
nonentity. His resolution to play the heroic was therefore
taken at once, and with big hopes of success.
Throwing himself on his hands, feet up, he kicked
vigorously against the door panels for admission. Presently
the door was opened, and in across the newly-wash'd floor
he waddled on his hands, as awkwardly as a hen stepping
across a newly-macadamised road. A succession of sharp
screams followed.
" Eh, me ! what'a gane wrang wi' the man's heid ava ? "
exclaimed Sarah, Johnny's industrious second wife, as she
saw her husband walking the floor in a completely inverted
fashion, like a tumbling circus clown. Reaching the hearth-
stane, Johnny resumed his wonted equilibrium, and presently
was calmly seated in a chair before the fire, philosophically
blowing away at the " pipe."
" Weel, Sarah, my dear," he began, " hoo's yer washin'
an' scoorin' lunacy the nicht ? "
JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE. 103
" Oh, Johnny, dear ! what's gane wrang wi' ye this nicht
ava ! Ye've been fettlin' owre sair at the dram, I fear.
Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! "
"No, Sarah, there's no a pennyworth o' yill wrang wi' me
this nicht. I'm as sober's an archbishop, an' never was
soonder in the upper storey in a' my life " — (tapping his
forehead.)
" Siccan an exhibition I never before witnessed," added
Sarah. " Ye're no yersel' this nicht, Johnny Safty, wha'-
ever ye may turn oot to be."
" I'm maybe my kizzen, then, Sarah, or failin' that, some
faur-awa relation o' my ain — eh ? "
" For mercy's sake, get awa' to yer bed this very
moment ! " resumed the alarmed Sarah, " an' I'll throw on my
shawl an' rin awa' doon for the village apothecary. It's a
rising blister on the back o' yer heid ye're needin'. But I'll
awa' doon to the village apothecary an' see what's wrang."
" Will ye, though ? " replied Johnny ; " in that case I'll
be smartly after ye on my han's, feet uppermost, Sarah."
" Oh, dear ! " sighed Sarah, clasping her two hands
together : " the man's mind's clean reversed, an' turned
tapsalterie a'thegither."
" There's no a preen pint the maitter wi' me, Sarah,"
retorted Johnny ; " I'm as soond, heid an' heel, as a cask o'
porter."
" Oh, Johnny Safty ! Johnny Safty ! when will ye gie up
meddlin' wi' that awfu' sense-thrawin' dram ? "
" When yince ye gie up wash — wash — washin' at that
awfu' fit-defyin' floor," replied Johnny, with a significant
nod of the head ; " that's whan I'll gie it up, Sarah ; but no
till then."
"What hae I dune, Johnny, dear, but what ony ither daicent
and cleanly hoosewife should tak' a pride in daein' — keepit
my hoose clean, a credit to mysel', Johnny, an' a pleasure to
you, I hooe ? "
J 04 JOHNNY SAFTY'S SECOND WIFE. •
" A pleasure to me, be hang't ! " answered Johnny, with
rising warmth. " D'ye ken this, Sarah, ye've clean wash't
an' scoor't me ootside the premises an' intae the village tap-
room. A woman should aye think mair o' her man than a
newly-wash't floor. When a man has to rise an' gang oot-
side his ain door to spit, it's aboot time he was flittin'."
" Weel, Johnny, yell wash the floor yersel' after this," put
in Sarah.
" I will, Sarah, my dear ; and remember, if ye daur to
leave a single fit-mark on't ye'll suffer for't, I can tell ye ! "
" I'll hae to come in on my stockin' soles, Johnny."
" Weel, ye'll either need to dae that or keep yer bed till
it dries, or loup across't wi' a spring, for I'll daur ye, at yer
peril, to put a solitary fit on't — remember that, Sarah ! "
" Johnny Safty ! Johnny Safty ! " exclaimed the con-
verted Sarah, after a short pause, " I've been acting in the
wrang, I see.- I've wash't an' scoor't ye clean awa' frae yer
ain fireside, I noo clearly see. After this I'll think mair o' my
man than my newly-wash't floor. Lang may you stap oot
an' in, Johnny, for it wad be a sair day for me if death was
to withdraw yer welcome fitstaps frae the hoose."
Johnny was overjoyed. The "cure" was an accomplished
fact ; and the agreement thus mutually made was faithfully
kept, for twa happier domestic doos never picked crumbs o'
pleasure at a Scottish fireside than Johnny Safty and his
second wife, Sarah Corkscrew, do this day.
THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN.
" It's the gas-accoont man," said Mattie to her husband,
Robin Rough, a blacksmith in the old Calton of Glasgow.
Robin — honest, hard-working man — had just come in from
his day's work, and was up to his twa een in his usual
evening bowl of brose.
THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN. 105
" Great sticks ! " he cried, starting up " is that the gas-
accoont man again ? Bring him ben."
Now, the blacksmith was a famous hand at a joke. His
mind was made up in a second. Mattie, decent woman,
had been bothered for the last fortnight to the very end of
her judgment — which did not stretch very far — by that
same collector's importunate calls. The situation had been
getting tight, and the blacksmith had promised to look
round at the Gas Office and pay the account that very after-
noon, and lo, and behold ! here was that confounded col-
lector again ! Now, the blacksmith had indeed been round
at the Gas Office and faithfully paid the account accord-
ing to promise, and wicked was the cunning laugh he
chuckled as he suggestively fingered his waistcoat pocket
wherein the receipt of payment was securely lodged. He
for once had that rashly importunate collector in his power,
he well knew, and he would at once proceed to humorously
joke him.
" Yes, bring him in, Mattie," said the wily blacksmith;
and presently debtor and creditor stood face to face.
The blacksmith looked critically at his man, judging him
to be a highly interesting subject to joke with, as he very
pompously stood before him, pencil and paper in hand, exten-
sively spectacled, and attired generally in his small authority,
as largely as strong assertion and high pegged-topped boots
would admit of.
That same collector, in fact, was authority personified. He
looked, and there was authority in his stern official gaze.
He coughed, and there was authority embodied in his formal
hoast. He sneezed, and there was decided authority
even in his official ah-chee! Physically, he was a little
man, with a large and placid opinion of himself. In
the matter of business, however, his formal audacity had
made him an overpowering success. He had been sore
upon Mattie in consequence of the too long delayed payment
106 THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN.
of the gas account, and now that the blacksmith had him so
neatly in his power, it seemed but a fair Eoland for an
Oliver that he should dish up for him a repast sharpened
with his own rather smart official sauce. And that humorous
resolve the blacksmith at once proceeded to put into effect.
" I — I — I called for that overdue gess account," the
collector rather smartly said on entering the house.
" Eh ? What say ye ? " said the blacksmith, reaching
his left ear to within a foot of the collector's nose, pretend-
ing thereby a deafness which, of course, did not exist.
Mattie, douce woman, looked genuine surprise, which look
of surprise her husband met by a counter-wink, imposing
silence as plainly as a wink of the eye could do. So Mattie,
decent woman, marvelled much and said nothing.
" I called for that overdue gess account, I was saying! "
cried the collector, raising his thin, keen voice a full octave
higher.
" Eh ? What say ye ? " again asked the blacksmith.
" Raise yer vice abune a whisper, my chiel, for I've got a
bit deafenin' cauld in my heid ; " and hitching himself still
closer, he narrowed by nearly twelve inches the single foot
of space which separated his left ear from the collector's
nasal organ.
The astonished collector sprang back fully three feet, as
if his whole facial frontispiece was in extreme danger of
abuse.
« Y Y — You didn't particularly inform me of the fact
that your husband was deaf," the collector remarked,
addressing himself to Mattie, who looked innocence per-
sonified.
" He's waur the nicht than ever I kent him to be," very
truthfully replied the guileless Mattie, with just the faintest
possible glint of a smile.
" As deaf as a bed-post ! " added the flustered collector ;
then inhaling a long breath, he shouted aloud, " It's the gess
THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN. 107
account! the gess — account I have called for! " vigorously
tapping his papers with the head of his pencil, by way of
adding an official climax to his words — " it's the gess
account ! — the gess account ! "
" What ? Parnassus Mount ? " echoed the blacksmith, as
if a new idea of the collector's mission had dawned on his
obtuse senses. " Oh, that's it, is it ? Ye're a poetry
chap, are ye ? Na, na, my man, I canna subscribe for your
book. I can ring a wheel, shae a horse, or discuss politics
wi' the best o' them ; but as for poetry, be hang't ! I never
cood get it owre my craig. Oh! ye needna fume aboot it,
my man. Poetry and Parnassus Mount are a' guid enough
in their place; but as for me, I'll stick by plain brose an' Ben
Lomond."
The distracted collector danced about for a few moments
quite picturesquely, and clutching desperately at the back
of a chair for necessary support, he lifted up his voice and
cried aloud —
" Confusion and stupidity ! I . want you, old man, to
clearly and finally understand that I have called here for
payment of your gess account, overdue ages ago ! And that
to pay it now, to me (tapping his breast), without impend-
ing expenses, will be, on your part, an act of prudential
propriety."
"The Prudential Society!" exclaimed the blacksmith.
" Ah ! I see clearly what you're after noo. I've been labour-
ing under a misapprehension a' alang. Ye want me to jine
the Prudential Society, div ye ? But let me inform you
that we're already in the ' Scottish Legal ' — Mattie an' me, an'
yae burial society's quite enough to be connected wi'. Ye
surely wadna hae us to dee twice, wad ye ? "
" As deaf as Ailsa Craig ! " said the excited collector.
" My good woman," he added, addressing the guileless
Mattie, " do, I beseech you, try to get your — your — your
excruciating husband to understand the nature of my
108 THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN.
business here. This is shocking! I — I — I feel quite
exhausted — positively weak ! "
" A penny a week ! " broke in the blacksmith — " waur an'
waur. Na, na, my chappie; nane o' yer penny-a-week
funeral societies for me."
At this juncture Mattie stepped towards her husband,
and, placing her mouth close to the left side of his head, she
cried ben his ear —
" D'ye no understan' that the daicent man wants pay-
ment o' the gas accoont ? He's gettin' hoarse wi' roarin, an'
perfectly blue in the een."
"What, Mattie? — a shooin' machine? Oh, I see, I see;
it's a shooin' machine that the man wants me to buy. Na,
na, my fine fellow, I want nane o' yer shooin' machines at
present. An' let me quately tell you this, my man: ye
canvass owre mony articles to succeed weel wi' ony."
" Oh, preposterous ! preposterous ! " yelled the maddened
collector, turning right round on his heel in an excess of
anger. " Why, sir, such gross and impregnable deafness
looks like a libel."
" What ? — wad I no look at a Bible ? Catch me. Na,
na ; I hiv mair auld Bibles an' Psalm-books than I'm ever
likely to use. You're a book-canvasser, I noo plainly see ;
an' while on this point, I may jist forewarn you, as against
a yiseless waste o' win', that I'll neither be coaxed nor
cajoled by you or ony ither man into a purchase o' ' Bun-
yan's Pilgrim's Progress,' nor ' Baxter's Saint's Rest,' nor
1 Livingstone's Travels,' nor ' Burns's Works,' nor ' The
Franco-German War,' nor Singer's shooin' machines, nor
patent mangles, nor domestic wringin' machines, nor American
watches, nor "
"Stop! stop! stop!" pleaded the collector, holding his
ears in despair; "deplorable! deplorable! Why, you've
kept me, for the last five minutes, howling aloud to you all
to no purpose, like a fox on the hills."
THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN. 109
" What ? — buy a box o' pills ? Great sticks ! dae ye also
deal in doctor's pills. Gor, that's maist extr'or'nar' ; it bates
cock-fechtin'. Sir, you're beyond question a man o' very
wide commercial enterprise, an' should mak' a fell big
fortune yet."
" Oh, the deuce take you! " retorted the distracted col-
lector, putting past his pencil and papers preparatory to
effecting a retreat.
" It's the gas accoont, man," said Mattie, placing her
mouth once more against her husband's ear, and, guessing
that the joke had gone far enough, she knowingly nudged
him with her elbow as she spoke.
" Oh! I see, I see," said the blacksmith, a light breaking
over his grimy countenance. " Why didna ye say that at
first? "
" Yes, the gess account — the gess account ! " thrust in the
now relieved collector, grasping at the opportune opening
thus effected. "And let me distinctly tell you, sir, now that
I have at last gained the hearing of your obtuse head, that
if the account is not paid to-night, you'll be compelled to
pay it with expenses — with expenses, remember — and
within three days from this date."
" Eh, me, we're in a fine pie noo ! " forebodingly said
Mattie, indulging a sudden sigh, which very nearly sucked
in her mutch- strings.
" Yes," sententiously added the collector, by way of a
finishing climax, " pay your overdue account to me now, or
stand the immediate consequences."
" It's peyed, man ; it's peyed ! " retorted the blacksmith,
indulging in a broad and hearty laugh, which nearly con-
nected the two sides of his mouth with his ears. " I'm jist
back frae the peyin' o't at the Gas Office. Read that." And
handing the nonplussed collector the receipt, he coolly
awaited the issue.
The collector grasped at the receipt, glanced over it,
110 THE GAS-ACCOUNT MAN.
looked unutterably blue, and the next moment fled — papers,
pencil, spectacles, authority, and all.
"Week he micht o' bade us good-bye,". laughed the black-
smith when the collector had fairly gone ; and for a full
half-hour his honest face was just one vast, substantial
smile.
That same enterprising collector has lately applied for and
obtained a new district.
DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE.
Davie Tosh was a farm-servant lad, an' had cam' lampin'
intae Gleska yae Hogmanay nicht for the purpose o' haein'
a roar oot o' hi nisei', an' seein' the New Year brocht in at
the Toon Cross.
Now, Davie was a blythe, free-going, rattlin', roarin' blade,
very fond o' fun', and with ne'er a grain of soorness or
selfishness in his disposition. Having a few shillings in his
pocket for merry disposal on the evening in question, he was
not long in foregathering with twa-three chance acquaint-
ances, who very generously assisted him to consume the
numerous " wee gills o' the best " which his excessively
social appetite demanded.
In this way Davie's last solitary sixpence had been
melted, and his purse being now quite empty, his chance
friends of an hour suddenly disappeared in some most un-
accountable way.
But our friend Davie, who was already considerably
better than twa-thirds fou', set little by the loss of either
friends or bawbees. He was happily oblivious to all such
small vexations, as he wheeled sharp about and began to
somewhat loosely " stot " hamewards in the direction o' Auld
Whinnyknowe, consoling himself with the remark that if he
had not waited to see the New Year " brocht in " at the Toon
DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE. Ill
Cross he had, at least, had a richt guid roar oot o' himsel',
which was satisfactory to Davie in a very high degree.
It was striking the hour of eleven as Davie briskly focht
his way up the auld Gallowgate, for he had several long-
miles of open road to travel before reaching Whinnyknowe,
and the snow was lying three inches thick on the streets.
Plunging straight ahead, he had not proceeded far when
he drew suddenly up, and cannily concluded to spier his
way ahead, as he was not more than half sure of his exact
latitude.
" I'm in Gleska," he mused, as he affectionately embraced
a lamp-post for support ; " I'm in Gleska, but that's a' I'm
sure o\ No' a daicent Christian at han' to spier the road
hame at. A'body's doon at the Cross seein' the New Year
brocht in, an' it's a deid frost hereaboot."
Casting "off" from his anchorage, Davie presently set
forward again, indulging a highly ornamental method of
progression by making, now a leeward bicker, now a back
lurch, and now a precipitate forward plunge.
" Thrawn wark this," he added, as he gathered himself up
from a stiff fa' on the pavement. " It's no easy gettin' alang
thir confoonded uneven Gleska streets. I wish I saw mysel'
yince mair back at Auld Wliinnyknowe — safe in my bed
atween the wife an' the wa' ! I'm in the vera heart o'
Gleska, certainly, but I'd be mair at hame atween the ploo-
stilts, I'm thinkin'. But, hillo ! wha's yon stannin' glowerin'
straucht across the street at me ? " he continued, very
naturally mistaking an iron Post-Office pillar-box for a man.
" Faith, lad, I'll across the street, an' spier my way hame at
ye, as ye seem aboot the only man on the road," and full of
genial anticipation, largely compounded of loose fancy and
raw whisky, Davie dived across the street, and momentarily
stood in the dumb presence of the snow-wrapt pillar-box,
which looked not unlike a stout little man, wrapt up to the
twa ears in a greatcoat.
112 DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE.
"Ye're there, auld man," said Davie; "a guid New-Year
t'ye ! " and he frankly extended the hand of friendship to the
dumb article addressed.
" Ay, ay," sneered Davie, " sae ye'll no return my frien'ly
greeting ! " and half-inquiringly he kept staggering around
the pillar-box, which, with its round, short body, surmounted
by a broad-shaped Tarn o' Shanter shaped top, looked for all
the world like the counter-part of a clumpy, well- fed, middle-
aged shopkeeper. " Man, ye're a dour, unsocial sort o' a bit
body ! " continued Davie ; " but maybe ye'd tell's the road to
Whinnyknowe, if ye'll dae naething mair ! Speak twa words
to a freen, man, an' no stand dumbly there wi' yer han's in
yer coat-pouches, an' yer bannet drawn doon owre the point
o' yer nose," and steadying himself for a moment, by a strong
effort of will, Davie stuck his thumbs inside the armpits of
his waistcoat, and surveying his silent friend, sarcastically
resumed : —
" Ye're there, are ye ? ye blin' auld deaf-an'-dumb doddie !
Stannin' there under the hap o' yer muckle coat an' yer
Kilmarnock bannet, wi' yer tongue stack atween your teeth,
an' nae mair Christian feelin' in yer breist than's in this
auld hat o' mine."
Losing his balance, however, while he yet spoke, Davie
staggered backwards several paces, and ultimately fell
" clyte " down on the middle of the street.
Sitting still there for a moment, with head erect, and
glowerin' eyes, he presently noticed a thin, smart-motioned
little man stealthily approach the pillar-box with hurried
and furtive gesture, who was none other than the Post-Ofhce
bag-lifter, doing his late rounds.
Now Postie was on this occasion somewhat behind time
in lifting the " bags," having been tasting with a friend — a
very pardonable slip in view of the conviviality of the
season — and he was now intent on making up for lost time
by hurrying through with his work.
DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE. 113
Glancing suspiciously around, as if to avoid notice, Postie
stepped close up to the pillar-box, and at once began un-
locking the small door for the purpose of lifting and carrying
away the bag of letters suspended inside.
Davie, past active interference for the moment, eyed
Postie's movements where he sat, judging him, with lightning
activity, to be nothing less than a burglar, intent on com-
mitting a midnight robbery on the person of his unknown
friend.
In a moment Postie had flung open the pillar-box door,
and removed the bag of letters.
" If the plunderin' loon hasna open't the chiel's topcoat,
and rifled his twa breeks' pouches clean ! " thought Davie.
" A street robbery, or my name's no Davie Tosh ! Hy, hy r
there ! murder ! robbery ! thieves ! police !" sang out Davie,
and struggling heroically to his lost feet, he was just in time
to witness Postie turn sharp round, and make a hurried
exit from the spot.
Now, Postie in his great haste to get back to official
headquarters, literally ran for it, and honest Davie, very
naturally concluding that the burglar had taken sudden
fright, and was running off with the stolen booty, followed
hard after, in close, but irregular pursuit, shouting out as he
ran, " Stop Thief ! Catch the Thief ! Catch the Thief !"
" Fat's all tiss row apoot ?" asked a Highland constable,
suddenly emerging from a publican's side-door.
" Yon's the row," replied Davie, pointing at the retreating
figure of Postie. " The burglar-loon has robbit yon wee
mannie owre-bye yonder, at the pavement edge. I saw him
lowse the chiel's topcoat, rifle his pouches, fling his purse
across his left shoother, an' syne mak' aff ; an' nae trifling
size o' a purse it was, I can tell ye," added Davie, by
way of a climax ; " it was as lang as a sheep's
bag."
" Oich, oich," laughed the official Donald, who for once
s. s. 8
114 DAVIE TOSHS HOGMANAY ADVENTUKE.
had the joke all to himself, " she'll no be a tief at al ; she
wass be a wrocht in ta Posht Offish."
" The Post Office be hanged !" retorted Davie ; " I'm
thinkin' it's the Pollis Office the rascal should be in. But
come awa' back, an' see what the wee buddy's savin' til't."
" Oich, oich ! Did you'll no circumstood what I'll told
you ? She's no a man at al ; she's ta Posht Offish Pox."
" The Post Office Pox ! Weel, I've heard in my day o'
the Chicken Pox, and the Sma' Pox, but I never till noo
heard tell o' the Post Office Pox !"
" Did she'll thocht it was a man ?"
" An' what else could it be but a man ? Did ye ever see
a woman wearing a top-coat, and a Kilmarnock Tarn o'
Shanter bannet ?"
"Oich, oich ! you wass be seein' through tawrang glasses;
go away home, my goot man, without further loss of delay,"
and Donald strode loftily on.
" The wrang glasses !" soliloquised Davie ; " I'm seein'
through the ' wrang glasses,' am I ? That canna be, seeing
that I never wore ' specks' in my life. But ye're awa, are
ye, Mister Pollisman ! An' ye'll no mak' a case o't ! Weel,
tak' care, then, that Davoc Tosh disna mak' a ' case' o' you !
Fine protectors of the people ! A daicent man may be
knockit doon and robbit on the public street, an' deil a
bobby 'ill claw a deaf lug owre't ! But I'll slip awa owre
an' see what the wee mannie's saying till' t himsel'."
A moment after, Davie once more stood in the presence
of his silent friend, addressing him with a rousing: " Hillo
there, auld man ! what's in yer blessed heid that ye're
stannin' there stock still, an' yer bag o' siller awa' — eh ?"
Getting no response, he caught the pillar-box by the
shoulders, and strove to shake it into a comprehension of
the desperate situation.
" Faith," quo' Davie, as the pillar-box resisted his utmost
efforts to move it, " ye maun surely be frozen stiff to the
DAVIE TOSH'S HOGMANAY ADVENTURE. 115
grand !" Then he next bent down, and looked inquiringly
into the wee man's face, beholding it, to his manifest surprise,
lettered all over with " Postal Intelligence !"
Quickly the truth at last dawned in upon Davie's mixed
mind, and clutching wildly at his hair for support, he
exclaimed : —
" Gor-a-me, but the Hielan bobbie has had the best end
o' the stick for yince in his life ! I'm e'en seein' this nicht
thro' owre mony ' glasses ' — spectacles or no spectacles !
Guid-bye, frien,' guid-bye ! I'm no likely to meet ye in the
iiesh again, for if Postie hasna robbed ye' o' yer purse, he's
at least awa' wi' yer stammack ; an' I'm thinkin a body
withoot a stammack is in a fully waur condition than a man
withoot a purse ?"
And, wheeling sharply about, Davie Tosh made instant
tracks for the douce farm-lands o' Auld Whinnyknowe.
GLESKA MUTTON, 4x1. PER POUND.
In a snug little corner of an old-fashioned building, situated
at the foot of Saracen's Lane, in the old Gallowgate of
Glasgow, stood, nearly half a century ago, the homely but
comfortable chop -and -dram -shop of worthy auld Sandy
M'Craw.
Now, old Sandy M'Craw, the landlord of the chop-and-
dram-shop in question, was a remnant of an antecedent
generation, like the old-fashioned building in which his
chop-house stood, and carried down with him till -a more
modern day the tastes, habits, and modes of thought
peculiar to the generation preceding the advent of steam.
For that reason, along with the fact that his roast chops
as well as his dram were good, Sandy's chop-house was a
well-patronised little snuggery, where right douce and
worthy old town burghers and bailies could meet, without
116 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND.
provoking remark, to get their " twal-hours' dram," or par-
take of their afternoon chop in ease and comfort, the after-
dinner sederunt being often prolonged well into the hours
of night ; and which sederunt, when the company, like the
dram, was good, was often extended to cock-craw on the
following morning.
To resume, Sandy M'Craw's wee chop-and-dram-shop was
ringing one night with rich, oily, and saponaceous jokes and
laughter, and in a small back-room of M'Craw's chop-
house, were seated, on the night instanced, Bailie Stout and
some half-dozen local worthies, whence issued the sapona-
ceous laughter alluded to.
Bailie Stout was an undersized, but exceedingly corpulent
municipal magistrate. He was constructed physically on
what are graphically termed " Dutch lines." In Scotch
phrasing, he was about " as braid as he was lang." The
extra flesh which he carried on his body, however, was not
at all typical of the milk of human kindness. He was a
man of self-seeking motives and principles, and his bodily
padding was that of the gourmand, whose delight is in juicy
chops and foamy porter. Selfish in the gratification of his
appetites, he had never a thought beyond himself and his
own bodily ease and comfort. He had risen from the ranks
and was a bitter opponent of the social advancement and
political claims of the toiling masses. Originally a working
weaver, he had become a property factor, and shortly after
getting into the Town Council had succeeded in buying con-
siderable property in the business portions of the town,
principally in the Candleriggs, mostly as the result of
adroit financing with the Corporation funds and contracts.
In the spring of 1848 the exceeding dull trade of the
country had reached such an acute stage in Glasgow that the
opening of soup kitchens was discussed in the Council
Chambers, and the formation of "relief works" for the
able-bodied unemployed openly advocated as a necessity.
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND. 117
Bailie Stout and one or two others of his colleagues had
stiffly opposed these generous proposals, and had hence
acquired a particularly bad reputation among the starving-
thousands of the city. In fact, Bailie Stout had been
threatened with mob law if he persisted in his selfish oppo-
sition. He did persist, being a very determined man, but
did not succeed in carrying his harsh negative to the more
generous and humane resolutions of the town magistrates.
And this brings us in touch with Bailie Stout relative to
the conversation occurring round the social table in old Sandy
M'Craw's chop-and-dram-shop on the particular evening-
instanced.
"It's my opinion, Bailie," said Willie Walsh, an iron-
monger in the Trongate, " it's my serious opinion that
something will hae to be done for the unemployed in the
toon, if a public bread riot's to be avoided."
" Hoots awa', Willie," was Bailie Stout's rejoinder ; " it's a
season o' starvin' the rascals are needin'. What wi' their
reform bill fads, their household suffrage bills, and their
levelling-doon radicalism, the unconscionable loons are
neither to haud nor to bind. I'd let them feel the bottom
o' their stammaeks, Willie, an' they'll ever afterwards recog-
nize the fact that honest wark is before dishonest politics
ony day. That's a bit of guid chop Sandy's sent in to as
the nicht, eh 1 "
" Jist grand, Bailie," acceded Pobin Proudfoot, a retail
chandler in the Saltmarket ; ' " but while ye praise Sandy's
juicy chop, there's nae necessity for ye sittin' sae sair on the
toon radicalism. The Chartists hae some grand men amang
them, and their political programme's a just measure. As
for giein' the puir loons a starvin', Bailie, why, they've been
a' but starved this hale winter already, wi' nae prospect
o' things mendin', either, which mak' affairs even worse."
" Stuff an' nonsense, Eobin ! sheer stuff an' nonsense ! "
retorted Bailie Stout ; " keep the diet doon. A fu' wame,
1 1 8 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND.
ye ken, male's a stiff prood back. That's a nice, fresh,
foamy jug o' porter ; slips owre the craig like a spunefu' o'
jeel."
At this juncture Sandy M'Craw, the veritable landlord of
the chop-house, usually called the laird, entered the room
without ceremony, and with a look on his face which
obviously meant business of some kind.
" What's the time o' nicht, laird ? " asked Willie Walsh,
" time we were liffcin', I suppose, eh ? "
" Hoots, the nicht's no that faur gane ; it's no struck twal
yet, though it's fast makin' for't," answered the douce land-
lord, " but I've a message for ye, Bailie."
" Wha brings in the message, Sandy ? "
" A bit callant aff the street, as far's I can judge ; tip-
pence wad send him here or fairer as fast's a trotting
pownie."
" Ay, ay ; an' I wonder what it can be ? " mused the
liailie, rising and putting on his night-hap — a green-coloured,
warmly-padded cloak of ponderous width and depth. " It's
maybe a. watter-pipe that's burst in the hoose ? or a bur-
glary that's tooken place ? or maybe the hoose is on fire ?
or "
" Maybe a deputation frae the Toon Cooncil wantin' ye
to become Provost next term, Bailie, wha kens ? " put in
Robin 1'roudfoot, the retail chandler. " Let me help ye on
wi' yer cloak, Bailie ; therena ; that's it."
" Weel, I'm sorry to hae to rise an' rin, freens, but
business, like time an' tide, wait's on nae man, ye ken; sae
I'll bid ye'se a' guidnicht till we next meet."
" The hour's late, Bailie, an' I think we should a' rise an'
gang hame thegither," said Willie Walsh, the Trongate iron-
monger. " We're safer an' merrier in the lump, ye ken."
" Deed no, freens, ye'll a' sit still an' finish yer stowps.
I've a guid pair o' legs, a guid pair o' lungs, and a guid stick
in my nieve, an' wha daur meddle wi' me? Touch me, an'
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND. 119
there'll be crackit nappers gaun, I can tell ye." And with
a fussy gait and a slightly unsteady step Bailie Stout bustled
effusively out of the room.
The nisrht was still wet and blusterous when Bailie
Stout set off for his place of residence in Bath
Street.
The street was all but deserted of wayfarers, the hour
being so late, for the Bailie had hardly proceeded a hundred
yards west when he distinctly heard the bells in the old
( Jross steeple toll out the hour of twelve.
" The nicht's a bit farrer gane than I thocht it was," the
Bailie remarked to himself as he peched and blew in his
efforts to fight clown the opposing blasts of wind, which
caught him powerfully in the broad abdomen, and shook
him stiffly as a dog does a rat. The rough tearing night
wind had evidently no consideration for Bailie Stout's
magisterial dignity and body corporate. It twirled the scanty
locks of iron-grey hair that hung aback of his fleshy neck ;
it smote him on breast and stomach, as if with the blows of a
shut fist, knocking him both out of wind and temper ; it filled
his spacious pockets ; it got between the inter-spaces of his
great, baggy, green cloak, and forcing the hanging extremities
between his two legs seriously checkmated his forward progress,
and not unfrequently all but overcame his power of pedal
locomotion.
Very soon he had reached the foot of the brae which
once characterised the Gallowgate of Glasgow, and was
just opposite the dark opening of the once well-known
" Elephant Closs," when he was suddenly seized from behind
with a firm hand, and somewhat rudely thrown upon his
back ' on the pavement. This unceremonious treatment,
which was as unexpected as it was outrageous, fairly flabber-
gasted the bumptious Bailie, who gasped out his wrath and
indignation in somewhat mixed terms —
Pollis ! pollis ! Let go, ye murderin' loons ! ye thievin
«
120 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PEE POUND.
rascals ! Help ! help ! Auch ! whoo ! whurroo ! — ■
whurroo ! "
The Bailie's threats and expostulatory gutturals, however,
were of no avail. In two seconds he found himself stretched
lengthwise on his back, and beheld standing over him several
men with blackened faces, whose teeth and eyes shone with
peculiar force, in contrast with their darkened countenances.
" What is't ye're after, ye murderin' vagabonds ?" he
shouted aloud, when he had once more recovered his
partially suspended breath. " Fegs, an' I had my liberty
back, an' ye before me on the bench, I'd saut and pepper
yer hides, ye thievin' gang o' fit-pads ! "
" Justice, Bailie Stout, justice ! " answered one of the
blackened faces. " You have publicly ridiculed the claims
of the poor and the unemployed of the city, and as their
deputies we hereby intend to expose your carcase for public
sale and subsequent removal to the police mortuary, or,
perhaps, the dead-meat market.
" What ! are my twa lugs hearin' richt ? " replied the
overthrown Bailie. " Is't possible ye're gaun to murder me
in can Id bluid ? ye gang o' toon runagates ! Aff ban's ye
ne'er-dae-weels ! Murder and blue-sticks ! let me up this
instant, or, by my faith, as sure as I'm a leevin' magistrate
this nicht, the lot o' ye'll hang for this the morn. Let me
up, will ye ? "
And here the outraged Bailie kicked and wrestled for his
freedom with surprising vigour on noticing that his blackened
assailants were proceeding to tie his two hands behind his
back with a piece of old clothes-rope which they had provided
for the purpose.
" See that his two hands are well secured behind his back,
Port-Glasgow," said the principal of the gang, " and you,
Greenock, lay the weight of your body across his legs to
keep down his kicking; he flings like a vicious old colt."
"An' wha wadna kick an' fling, ye rascals!" again sang
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PEE POUND. 121
out the wroth Bailie. " To be set upon in sic a fashion !
But ye needna nickname yersels Port-Glasgow this, Dumbarton
yon, an' Greenock the ither" thing, thinkin' ye'll thereby
manage to blin' the law ; for within eicht short days the
hale jing-bang o' ye'll be sittin' wi' close-cropped nappers,
teazin' oakum in Duke Street ; sae mind yer han', my fine
chaps, an' ca' quate an' canny if ye mean to save yer necks
frae a guid hemp-rape streechin'."
" Dry up, old rusty wig, will you ! " once more said the
principal, with an angry snap. " Where's Bob Dumbarton ? "
he suddenly asked, addressing his blackened confederates.
" He's gone round to Peter Paisley's."
" Oh, jist say Sam Cainlachie's, an' be dune wi't," put in
the Bailie, who had the spunk of a full-sized man, short in
stature as he was.
" Will you please dry up ? old greasy chops ! " shouted
one of the gang.
" Never while the breath o' the old Gallowgate air's in my
body ! " replied the self-conscious Bailie. " I'm a Gleska
magistrate, mind ye, an' if ye an' me live thegither for twa
weeks hence tak' my word for't ye'll sweat for this, the hale
jing-bang o' ye, mind I tell ye ! "
" Where, I ask," resumed the principal, " has Bob Dum-
barton gone to ? "
" He's gone round to Peter Paisley's — ."
" Say Sam Camlachie's, an' be dune wi't," once more thrust
in the impounded Bailie.
"He's gone round, I was sayin' to Peter Paisley's for a
fresh piece of rope to string up our victim to the lamp-
post."
" What ? " yelled the now truly-alarmed Bailie, " are ye
really gaun to hang me frae the tap o' the lamp-post ?
Murder ! pollis ! help ! help ! "
" Ah, here's Bob Dumbarton with the tether. Lose no
time, men, in case a couple of the Highland ' Charlies '
122 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND.
come slap down on us. Out with the rope, and get his stout
carcase hung up and duly ticketed. Great America ! he
kicks like a cavalry horse. Wo-oh. Steady there, old man."
" What are ye after, sir, I ask ye ? " once more demanded
the alarmed Bailie, struggling round towards the principal.
" For yer ain sake mair than mine, no to speak o' the credit
o' the law, hae a care o' what ye're ettlin to dae."
" Oh, confound the law ! " retorted the person addressed,
" there's Loo much law and too little justice in this country
— especially for the poor and the unfortunate. It's a nice
country for a rich man to live in, this is, but it's starvation
and bitter misery for a poor man. Sling him up, men ;
we'll very noon oiler the starving public fine, fresh, well-
fattened pork, in the person of Bailie Stout, at 4d. per
pound, with the choice of cut, too ! Do your duty, men ;
stuff up his speaking trumpet, and string him up to the
nearest lamp-post without useless ceremony."
' : My goodness ! " once more cried aloud the now com-
pletely horrified Bailie, :: is there no a confoonded Hielan'
pollisman about, an' a toon Bailie's valuable life in the ban's
o' a gang o' cut-throats, an' hingin'by a mere threid ? But,
hark ye, my billies, if there's law in Scotland — ow! —
The remainder of the ejaculatory threat was not finished,
on account of one of the gang stuffing a pocket handkerchief
into the victim's mouth,' the which having been crossed with
a second napkin, drawn tight round his jaws and tied at the
back of his head, effectually prevented any further vocal
demonstrations on tlie part of the now gagged, handcuffed,
and pinioned victim.
The Bailie's assailants were all strong, able-bodied men,
and with little exertion they caught up their victim in
their arms, and having smartly slipped a running bow-line
under bis arms, they hoisted him, head up, to the arm of the
nearest lamp-post. A few swirls of spare rope, and Bailie
Stout was left dangling from the top of the lamp-post, with
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND. 123
his two rather large and decidedly flat feet fixed about thirty-*
six inches above the ground, in a position which was certainly
greatly more picturesque than edifying.
" Get out the price-ticket, men," said the directing prin-
cipal, " loose no time — quick ! "
" Ay, ay, sir," responded the person alluded to as Bob
Dumbarton, and in three seconds more a large specially-
prepared, hand-painted trade ticket was pinned to the
victim's breast, the vari-coloured lettering of which read
thus ! —
Important Public Notice.
FINE FRESH GLASGOW PORK,
only 4d. per lb.
WARRANTED REAL HOME FED.
N.B. — Whereas, a certain Glasgow Bailie having refused
the unemployed of the town assistance, the starving passer-
by is hereby invited to take a free " cut " off Bailie Stout's
magisterial gigot, and so appease his hunger.
By Order of the Committee of the Town Unemployed.
" Now, Sir Bailie, may you hang there till there's no more
flesh left on you than you'd like to see on your starving
fellow-citizens, whose only crime is their unmerited poverty,"
said the principal of the group. " And now, good-bye, and a
right merry swing t' ye ! "
This said, the half-dozen masked men hurried off in
opposite directions by preconcerted understanding, as if to
avoid pursuit, leaving poor outraged Bailie Stout dangling
by the waist from the lamp post to which they had firmly
roped him, full of fuming wrath at the insult put on him,
but unable to articulate a single word, by way of easing his
passion, on account of the gag which they had stuffed into
his distended mouth.
124 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. TER POUND.
The highly-humiliating personal outrage thus perpetrated
on Bailie Stout was a most amusing, although quite indefen-
sible, proceeding. It was a sort of local lynch -law escapade,
the natural reaction of a tyranny too tightly and too openly
exercised by the victim against his unfortunate fellow-men,
whose greatest, and indeed only crime, was their enforced
poverty — a condition certainly not of their own seeking nor
deserving.
Poor Bailie Stout was in a humiliating fix, and clearly the
odds were, for the time being at least, in the hands of his
enemies. But, wait-a-wee ! Somebody wad hing for't if
there was law in Scotland !
The perpetrators of the amusing outrage had scarce
turned the corners of the various streets along which they
separately decamped, when a " fou " tailor came rolling up to
the spot.
A " fou " Scotchman, apart from the total abstinence
principle, is always an interesting study to the observer of
human nature ; a "fou" tailor is, for many reasons, very
especially so.
Now, -Johnny Seam, the tailor in question, was a study in
himself, apart from his trade and his tippling habits, which
were notorious.
He stood five feet neat in his stockings, and was proud of
his miniature stature. He weighed six stones seven with his
stick leg, which would have scored for him the additional
half-stone had he been permitted to wear the amputated
limb.
Johnny, with the gallantry and spunk of extra little men,
had married, early in life, Maggie Howie, a local washerwife,
who was the exact opposite of himself in physical character-
istics. She was six feet in stature, and weighed sixteen
stones in her corsets.
It was a case of love at first sight on the wee tailor's
side, Washer-Mario's vast bulk having completely filled
the soul, as well as the two arms, of the enterprising knight
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND. 125
of the needle. Three months of married life, however, was
said to have rudely awakened the uxorious little tailor out of
his love day-dreams. At least, when asked how he and
Maggie were getting on, Johnny's invariable answer for many
a day after marriage was couched in a smart poetical quota-
tion from Burns : —
When first big Maggie was my care,
Heaven, I thocht, was in her air ;
Noo, we're married, spier nae mair,
But whistle owre the lave o't.
But Johnny had decidedly a spunk above a mouse, and
when Maggie grew nettlesome the spry wee tailor would
jump aff the board, hop across the floor in the direction of
his handy stick leg, screw it on, and forthwith set out for
the tailor's " ca'-house," from which he seldom returned home
sober, and never much before the " wee short hour ayont the
twal."
It was during his hame-coming, on one of these festive
occasions, that our little tailor friend stumbled on the rare
and diverting exhibition of Bailie Stout's body corporate
dangling from a street lamp-post at the foot of the
Gallowgate.
The novel sight exercised him much. He stopped
abruptly, as a lobby clock will do when a house fly gets into
the inter-spaces of the teethed wheels. Then he rolled
around the spectacle, narrowing at every turn the diameter
of the circle until he had drawn up right before the sus-
pended body of the immolated Bailie. Then he stopped,,
balanced himself by a supreme effort of science, mixed with
will, on his one solid foot of flesh, and manfully strove to
steady his swaying body with his remaining iron-virled leg
of wood.
" Eh — eh — eh — man, what are ye daein' speelin' up there,
eh ? " was the fou tailor's salutation on first dimly perceiv-
ing the obtuse fact that a body corporate was attached in
some funny way to a street lamp-post. " Co — co — come
doon, ye daft auld fule, or I'll te — te — tell the pollis - T
126 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PEE POUND.
sclim — sclim — sclimbin' up there just like a French
in — m — monkey ! "
Perched on his " high abode," poor pechin' and panting
Bailie Stout was unable to utter an articulate word, on
account, principally, of the gag which .is assailants had
stuffed into his mouth. He was, in point of strict fact, all
but past kicking, having previously exhausted himself in that
picturesque way half-an-hour before. The Bailie, however,
succeeded in making a convulsive movement of the body, as
if he had heard, and only too accurately understood, the
import of the question put to him.
"Wh — wh — what are ye hotchin' at, eh?" resumed the
mixed knight of the needle. " Can ye no answer a ceevil
question when it's daicently p-p-put ? Eh, Lord help us !
I s — s — see what's wrang wi' the ch — ch — chiel noo. He
— he — he's gotten a bit dram like mysel', an' he — he — he's
up the lamp-post looking for a li — li — licht for his p — p —
pipe. That what he's after."
Then the tailor took a fresh run around the suspended
habeas corpus of the Bailie, and presently drew up once more
right. in front of the inert victim, who had suddenly relapsed
into absolute quiescence.
" But stop awee till I s — s — see what it really is, whether
it's a man or a monkey ? " resumed the confused tailor,
getting out his specks with great care and formality. "Lord,
Mess me! jist as I jaloused ; it's a m — m — man, an' he's
up the tree lookin' for a licht to his p — p — pipe ! Weel,
I've heard tell o' Darwin's de — de — development theory, an'
<»' man being descended frae a m — m — monkey, b — b — but
if that man's great gran'faither wisna a ring-tailed cocoa-nut
eater, I'll eat my auld h — h — hat. Hey, man ! You up in
the t — t — tree, there, come doon an' I'll gi'e ye a m — m —
match ! "
There was no response, however, save a slight twirl of the
trunk, which the mixed tailor half guessed was caused by
GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND. 127
the force of the wind. Once more he ran around the object,
and having first " dichted," and afterwards readjusted his
" specks " on his rather weak nose, his eyes caught, for the
first time, the important public notice written in large letters
on the placard pinned to the victim's breast.
" Great Jamaica ! " once more broke forth the astonished
tailor, " it's no a m- — m — man ava, it's a b — b — butcher's
signboard, an' a sample o' quality. What ! mutton only f —
f — fowrpence the pund ; wi' yer choice o' a c — c — cut aff
the m — m — magisterial jiggot. Weel, I've heard tell o' p —
p — pope's eye steak — (hie) — but I'll be h — h — hanged if
ever I heard tell o' magisterial mutton. But it's a' richt, it's
a' richt ; I'm three-fourths sprung the nicht, it's true, an'
maybe seein' things d — d — double, but 'ill vera soon solve
the problem as to the species to which this — eh — eh, this
eh — sort o' — sort o' — eh — lamp-post sample mutton
belangs," and proceeding to act on his resolution, the con-
founded knight of the needle at once snipped from his
trouser pocket a small pocket knife, with which he intended
to make good for himself a " cut " off the magisterial jiggot,
as per advertisement. In two seconds the miraculous tailor
had jerked open the blade of his pocket knife, and thereafter
made a firm seizure of Bailie Stout's left foot, the better to
effect his purpose.
Meantime, the unfortunate victim was in an extremity of
dire terror, having been from the first quite cognisant of all
that was transpiring before him, although practically unable
to expostulate. The half mad and "hale fou " tailor had
evidently accepted his body corporate as that of a sheep's,
exposed for public sale, and placed there, directly under the
gaslight, to enable the passers-by to judge of its quality, and
take due notice of its existence and low price. Agonising
thought! the insane idiot was about to test the conundrum
by sticking the blade of a pocket knife into the calf of his
(Bailie Stout's) leg.
128 GLESKA MUTTON 4d. PER POUND.
The Bailie's mind was at once made up. Indeed, not a
moment was to be lost. The situation was trying in the
extreme — was, in fact, positively dangerous to life and limb.
Another moment and the dirty, tobacco-stained blade of the
" fou " tailor's pocket-knife would most certainly be driven
into his leg ! After that, there was nothing for it but
amputation and a prospective stick-leg, similar to the " fou "
tailor's own iron-virled road-stamper. The thought was
appalling ; further hesitation fatal. Making a supreme
effort, the hitherto inert mass of magisterial mutton drew
up its right leg, and letting fly straight out, struck the
disordered tailor a vigorous blow on the pit of the stomach
which sent him, in a figurative sense, about half-way into
the middle of the succeeding month, as it practically did
into the middle of the street.
" Blue verdigris ! " yelled aloud the confounded tailor,,
when he had at length recovered his suspended breath and
senses, " when deid sh — sh — sheep can kick like that, it's
high t — t — time Johnny Seam was snug on the bedside o'
his ain ingle cheek ! " And, picking up his hat along w 7 ith his
scattered limbs and senses, the disordered tailor made a
frantic dash eastward along the Gallowgate as fast as his
stick-leg could carry him, with a settled conviction in his
mind that " magisterial mutton," as per advertisement, was
a dark fraud, and dead sheep an unknown quantity in the
( rlasgow Gallowgate !
End of Second Series.
Scotch Readings
Scotch Readings
Humorous and Amusing
THIRD SERIES
By
Alexander G. Murdoch
Author of " Recent and Living Scottish Poets"
" Laughter costs nothing and is worth much "
GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORI SON
LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO
1889
P E E E A C E .
In issuing a third series of Scotch Readings, the author
desires to thank both press and public for the hearty
receptions accorded to his two previous issues.
The present series has been conceived and drawn on
lines of treatment somewhat similar to his former
efforts, the Headings here presented being exclusively
Scotch both in character and treatment.
For this there need be no apology. That a desire
for humorous Scotch portraiture and dialogue in humble
life is a wide-spread one, is fully attested by the
Scotch literature which at the present day is being so
largely reproduced by the publishing world.
The taste so gratified is a sound one, and reflects
not a little on the sensible side of Scotch character,
which still maintains an interest in the national credit
and individuality of their country.
VI PREFACE.
Regarding the humorous vein so predominant in these
Readings, that has been exclusively adopted as being
best suited to wants and tastes of the classes for whom
they have been mostly prepared.
That the present series may be as favourably received as
were the two former issues, is what the author naturally
hopes and expects, in which case he will consider
himself sufficiently rewarded for his labours.
CONTENTS OF THIED SEKIES.
PAGE
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS, 9
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST, £j
PETER PA TERSON, THE POET, S4
COMING HA ME FOU, / ; 1
THE BATHING 0' THE STICK LEG, 50
WHEN IS A MAN FOU? 5G
WASHIN' JEAN'S COMIC MARRIAGE, 63
DOON THE WATTES IN THE AULDEN TIMES,- - - 69
TAMMY GIBE'S LAN' 0' HOUSES, SI
SHIRT- WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE, ■ S?
HOW ARCHIE MACGREGOR PAID OUT THE IIORSE-
COWPER, OG
T AM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON, /
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE L CM, 110
SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST FOOT, 12 '3
Scotch Keadings.
THIRD SERIES.
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
Jean Tamson was a mature, snuff-loving virgin of some
five-and-fifty lovely summers, who made a fat living by
keeping men-lodgers.
She was a large and very stout woman. In spite of her
size and weight, however, perhaps on account of that, she
had never been, up till date, lifted off the hook, as the
phrase goes. Not but what she could have been, often
enough. Oh, no ! The offers she had refused in her day
were many. At least Jean maintained so, and as she had
a raucle o' a tongue when angered, her affirmations were
seldom openly questioned.
" A braw mornin', Jean, hopin' I see ye as weel's ye
should be," was Peggy Nacnab's neighbourly salutation, as
she stepped in across Jean's doorstep one forenoon.
" Thank'ee ; I'm about my or'nar, which is fashed a wee,
but gey weel on the whole," replied Jean, pushing a chair
towards her visitor. "An' hoo are ye haudin' yersel',
Peggy 1 "
" Oh, weel, I'm no' that ill if I could only get rid o' the
wind on my stomach. It jist blaws roun' my heart like the
win' roun' the fit o' a hill."
t. s. 2
10 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
" I've a bit guid drap o' speerits in the press, if ye'd care
aboot a taste ? It's capital for breakin' the wind, an' wi' a
bit peppermint-drap an' a snuff after't it's jist fair Paradise,''
handing Peggy the snuff-box as a preliminary.
" Jist a wee thimblefu' o' the speerits, if you please, Miss
Jean — jist the wee'st thimblefu'. It flees to my heid like a
bit lichtit paper up a lum."
Thus instructed, Miss Jean went towards a small press,
built in the wall, from a "ben" corner of which she
extracted a black quart bottle, out of which she proceeded
to pour into an old-fashioned china tea-cup a portion of the
black bottle's inspiring contents.
" Noo, jist the wee'st thochtie, Miss Jean, if you please,"
again put in Peggy, as her hostess tilted up the bottle.
" I'm a' but teetotal in practice, ye ken ; an' if oor man
jist smell't it on me, wouldn't there be a bonnie how-dy'e
do!"
" Row here, or row yonder," replied Jean, " dinna ye turn
awa' yer sonsie face frae the mercies when they're set on
the table afore ye. Here, pit owre that," handing the well-
filled china cup to her visitor.
Peggy took the cup in her hand, and saw that the
decoction given her was as white as milk. With a feeling
of wonder expressed on her homely countenance, she first
looked at the white-coloured liquid, then at Miss Jean, then
again at the liquid, and finally at her hostess once more.
" Ye're wonderin' at the colour o't, Peggy, I see," put in
the stout lodging-wife. " Let me explain't. Ye see, a single
woman like me needs to guaird her reputation, mair especi-
ally whaur there's men lodgers in the hoose an' lowse
tongues aboot the back coort. So I aye jist pit a drap o'
mulk in the whisky to colour' t, an' I can then pour oot a
taste o't in onybody's presence withoot settin' a bad example,
or raisin' a clatter o' ahint-back talk. I'm sair fash't wi'
the watter-brash rnysel' — in fact, I'm a perfect martyr to't —
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS. 11
an' there's naething quatens't doun like a wee hue o' speerits.
Coloured wi' the mulk, it can be used withoot suspicion at
either kirk or market."
" Eh, Miss Jean," innocently replied Peggy, " that accoonts,
then, for what the neibours say regairdin' yer wonderfu'
fondness for coo's mulk."
' What ! dae they ackwally say sae ?" asked the stout
lodging-wife, with a quick change of countenance, her
tongue ready for a run.
" Oh, it's rumoured that yer twa lips are never aff the
coo's teat."
This touched Miss Jean's weak point. Sticking her two
shut hands into her stout haunches, she started off on one
of her hot two-mile-long tirades, which, when once set
a-going, neither expostulations nor diplomacy could arrest.
" A tine thing," she burst out, " that a dacent, hard-workin',
respectable single woman canna turn her heid roun' but a
wheen idle, yisless, clatterin' hoosewives maun impidently
note an' mark it ! Wha had the audacity to mak' remarks
on me ? Was't auld splay-fitted Kate o' the Back Sheuch ?
or glee'd e'ed Jenny Broon, the Lanark carrier's low wife ?
or saft-heided, silly-tongued Eppy Blair, Coal Jock's wearif u'
handfu' ? Was it each, or ony o' them ? Tell me, an' I'll
throw a shoother-shawl owre my heid this minute an' braw
smartly I'll settle accoonts wi' the ill-minded jauds."
In this way Jean carried on for some minutes, quite
unmindful of Peggy's soothing disclaimers, till she had
fairly run herself out of both words and breath.
" No, no, Miss Jean," ever and anon broke in Peggy, in
soothing, dulcet tones ; " dinna fash yersel' aboot a wheen
idle clashes, that's jist like the wind, made to blaw by. I'll
taste yer speerits wi' great pleasure, wishin' ye baith health
an' guid luck."
This said, Peggy turned off her cup of doctored milk with
wonderful success for a teetotaler in practice, in which
12 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
action she was quickly seconded by Miss Jean, who proceeded
to fill up the old-fashioned china cup once more, inviting
her visitor to put the smell of the first cupful away with
that of a second.
" No, no, dear Miss Jean, no anither drap, if you please.
It's a gran' coo ye get yer mulk frae, I maun confess ; but I
maun keep strict teetotal, for if oor man was to jist smell't
on me, there wad be a bonnie how-d'ye-do, I can tell ye."
" Is he teetotal himsel', then, your man ?" asked the stout
lodging-wife, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.
"Nae mair than you are — that is, than I am — or rathei,
than, than — than Faugh ! I jist simply mean to
say that he's no' teetotal ava\ It's thae awfu' quarterly
Masons' meetin's that I blame for't. They happen aboot
twice a week, an' he usually comes hame frae them in sic a
state that he's no' fit to claw his ain elbow. It keeps me
scrimpit enough in pocket," she added, " for though I
industriously hing up his breeks by the fit o' the legs every
nicht, there's no' a solitary sixpence left to drap oot o' his
clean-pickit pouches. I micht as weel look for money in
the ash-bakey."
" An' the quarterly Masons' meetings happen twice a
week, ye say ? "
" On the Wednesdays an' the Setterdays, as regular as the
clock."
" Imphn ! jist so ! Weel, when I tak' a man, I'll first see
that he's no a merry Mason, onyway, whatever else he may
turn oot to be, tak' my word for't."
" What ! are ye takin' that way at last, Miss Jean ? "
naively put in Peggy, whose tongue had already become
somewhat clappity with the cupful of Miss Jean's doc-
tored milk. " Tell me, wha's the intended man ? "
"Oh, it's no' jist settled yet, ye ken," answered the stout
lodging-wife, " though I may as weel coniess't, I'm fair
pestered wi' suitors the noo."
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS. 13
" Yin o' the lodgers, Miss Jean ? "
" Na, catch me ! They see me owre often for a true,
lastin' loveship. Familiarity breeds dislike, ye ken, while
distance lends enchantment to the view. I prefer to trans-
act my coortin' bisness wi' a guid braid deal table atween
me an' my admirer, baith figuratively and practically."
" Wha, then, is he ? "
" Wheesht ! haud yer tongue. Gi'e me the saft side o'
yer ear." (Here Miss Jean confidingly whispered a name
into Peggy's itching ear, which was extended towards her
hostess for that purpose.)
" Gae wa ! wi' ye ! ye dinna surely mean it ? " was Peggy's
reply to the information communicated. " What ! Tippenny
Tarn ? "
" The vera man," admitted the stout lodging-wife.
"No?"
" As suite's ye're there."
" Dae ye ken his occupation, Miss Jean ? "
" Fine that ; he ca's himsel' a commercial traveller."
" An' so he is — for specks ! " acceded Peggj^, the latter
portion of her involuntary reply being enunciated in a
discreet undertone.
" An' has Tam really pappit the question, Miss Jean ? "
" Weel, in a sense he has," answered the stout lodging-
wife. " He's been here on three separate occasions, nae less,
an' he aye times himsel' to visit me when my twa men
lodgers are likely to be out, so as he'll catch me bird-alane,
ye ken. They're worth watchin', the men. I ken that
much, san'-blin' as I am on the amenities o' married
life in general."
" He's visited ye haill three times, ye say, Miss Jean ? "
" It's as sure as ye're sittin' there. An' what's mair,
every time he has visited me he has made a distinct
advance in his coortship."
"Ay?"
14 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
" Yes ; it's as sure as ye're sittin' there. The first ca' he
made he was content to sit on a chair at the faurest awa'
corner o' the kitchen, daein' little but twirlin' his bannet in
his twa hands an' glow'rin' up at the whitened ceilin' or
into the fire. The second nicht he looked in on me, he
drew owre to the table quite familiar- like, an' ackwally
leaned owre't in my direction, as if he wad fain come
nearer me."
" Ay ? "
" Yes ; an' on the third visit he telt me aff-han' to tak'
that awkward table oot o' the gaet that stood atween us, as
he fair hated the sicht o't."
"Ay?"
" Yes ; it's as sure as ye're sittin' there. Weel, I set the
table to the yae side a bit, jist to please him, ye ken ; an'
drawin' his chair inowre a bit, he cuist me sic a meltin',
pathetic, treacley look, an' syne said, 'Jeanie, my dear,
could ye fancy a hot tattie ? ' Noo, if that's no' directly
pappin' the question," added the stout lodging- wife, "I'll
plead guilty to kennin' precious little aboot the plain
meanin' o' love-signs an' languages."
" An' did he pu' a hot tattie oot o' his pooch, then ? "
quite sincerely asked Peggy.
"Oh, no; not at all, my dear woman. Ye see, the
lancua^e was kind o' feegurative. The hot tattie was
understood, ye ken," cleverly explained Miss Jean.
"Ay, jist that," said Peggy. "Tippenny Tarn's the
feegurative hot tattie referred to. An' pray, Miss Jean,
when is't comin' aff ? "
" Och, haud yer tongue ! Spare my feelin's, Peggy, if
you please. The like o' this disna happen every day in a
woman's life, though I've had my chances. Here, tak'
anither cupfu' o' mulk, an' kindly spare my feelin's on this
sacred occasion, if you please."
" But what if he rues an' draws back ? " put in Peggy ;
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEAES. 15
"for Tippenny Tam, they say's, a licht-wutted, leerie-
heided sort o' chap."
"What! draw back after carryin' me on sae faur ! Let
him try't. See ye, Peggy, he maun either pit the ring on
my third finger there, or flee the country. There's only
twa wavs oot o't for Tam — the minister's manse or
Ameriky."
" 'Od, what am I thinkin' o', staunin' here haverin' awa' an'
the kail-pat no on the fire yet," suddenly exclaimed Peggy.
" I maun hurry awa' across, for if oor man catches me here,
wi' the smell o' yer bottled mulk aboot me, there'll be a
bonnie bow-d'ye-do, I can tell ye."
" Here, pit that peppermint in yer mouth, my dear
woman," said the stout lodging-wife, "it'll jist crack the wind
on yer stomach like a stane gaun' through window gless."
"Ta-ta the noo, then, expectin' an invitation when it
comes aff," was Peggy's parting salutation.
" Oh, spare my delicate feelin's, Peggy, if yon please.
Tarn's comin' here the morn's nicht, an's bringin' me a
present o' a tortie-sbell cat, an' if that's no' furnishin' a
hoose by instalments, I confess I ken but little o' the sign
language o' love an' coortship. Ta-ta ! I'll be owre an' let
ye ken what's what in a day or twa. Ta-ta ! "
Like a true woman, Peggy duly informed her husband
that same niodit of the great secret which Jean Tamson
had so confidentially communicated to her, not forgetting
to mention the present of a tortoiseshell cat which Tippenny
Tam had .promised to make Jean on the following night, as
a supposed initial part of the house furnishing, and as a
pledge of the depth and sincerity of his love.
Now,Peggy's husband, who was a bit of awag.laughed aloud
on hearing of this, down to the length of his shoe leather.
So far, so good.
About eight o'clock that same evening, who should step
in to Peggy's presence but Tippenny Tam himself, the
1G JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
veritable " speck " hawking commercial traveller of Jean
Tainson's warm love-hopes and virgin affections.
" There's a snelly nicht for ye ootside doors," was Tarn's
commonplace salutation as he dropped mechanically into a
chair.
" Ay, there's a bit nip o' frost in the air, I feel," answered
Peggy's husband, who was comfortably blawin' awa' at a
well-tilled pipe. " Onything new the nicht, Tarn ? "
(< I hear naething extr'ornaiy," Tarn quietly answered.
" Are ye no' thinkin' o' takin' a second wife yet, Tarn ? "
asked Peg<?y, winking slyly to her worthy guidman.
" Hoots ! sic a thing's no' in my sober auld heid. I've
had enough o' the ticklish jauds, I'm thinkin'."
" What, Tammas ! no even thinkin' o't ? " put in Peggy's
husband.
" No, no, I assure ye."
A short confusing .silence supervened, which was almost
momentarily broken by Tippenny Tarn dashing frantically
into the subject that lay immediately on his mind.
" Man, that's a fine bit cat ye've gotten — a rale bonnilie-
markit tortie-shell cat ye've gotten haud o', I see."
Geordie looked across his spectacles to Peggy, who broke
a piece of coal in the fire and said nothing. The remark
was so suggestive that even young Geordie, the budding
genius of the family, cocked his two ears at it and smiled,
but very guardedly.
" Ay, it's a bit bonnie cat, I maun alloo," responded
Peggy's husband, with a faint smile.
" Man, d'ye ken," added Tam, " I've tooken a rale fancy
for a bit nice young cat, jist to warm my desolate fire-en',
an' to quaten doun the cheepin' o' the mice at nicht."
" Man, Tain, that's surely a fell strange notion that's
tooken yer heid, eh ! "
"E-e-eh, a most wonderfu' singular notion, I freely
admit," rejoined the slightly flustered spectacle man.
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS. 17
" Can ye no' account for't ava, Tammas ? " slyly put in
p eggy.
" Nae mair than ye could yersel'. It's jist a bit innocent
whim o' the fancy, ye ken — jist a bit innocent whim o' the
rovin' fancy — I opine."
" If Peggy's willin', ye're welcome to't, Tarn, twice owre."
" Man, I'd fair jump at the offer o't," exclaimed the
spectacle man, rolling his cap round and round in his hands
till it was like anything except a head cover for a modern
Scotch Christian.
" Tak' it awa' wi' ye," said Peggy. " Ye're welcome to't,
I'm sure."
" The morn's nicht I'll ca' roun' for't wi' a carpet-bag,"
delightedly answered Tarn, and hurriedly jumping to his
two feet, he made an instant move for the door, without
remembering to leave a word of thanks, or even to express
a formal " guid-nicht " to the worthy pair.
Now, Peggy's husband happened to have an apothecary
on the list of his acquaintances, from whom he borrowed
next day a packet of luminous phosphorus, which he
secretly rubbed into the fur of the tortoise-shell cat that
night, till it all but shone with light. In the dark it
burned with blue flame like an evil spirit evoked from the
pit of nether darkness.
" It's all done in the way of a scientific joke," Peggy's
husband gleefully chuckled to himself on letting the
powerfully phosphorised cat run free, which immediately
made for below the kitchen bed.
About nine o'clock next night round came Tippenny Tarn
for the promised cat, carrying a capacious old-fashioned
carpet-bag in his hand.
Profuse of thanks this time, off set Tippenny Tarn for
Jean Tamson's domicile, with the tortie-shell cat fufHn' an'
sprauchlin' inside the carpet-bag.
The spectacle-man was in distinct luck. Jean's lodgers
18 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
were fortunately once more abroad for the evening, and
Jean herself was seated by the cheery kitchen fire, awaiting
his expected visit, no doubt.
" I've brocht ye the present o' a bonnie bit tortie-shell
cat, as I promised I wad," said Tarn, and he at once
proceeded to open the capacious carpet-bag.
Flop I open flew the bag, and spring! out flashed the
cat like a white streak of lightning, and disappeared the
next moment below the kitchen bed.
" It feels strange a wee in its new quarters/' remarked
Tam apologetically, as he marked its startlingly sudden
disappearance.
" Raither," drawled out the stout lodging-wife, " an' frae
what I momentarily saw o't it seems to ha'e a kind o'
raised, flee-aboot, wull-cat look. Its fur, for yae thing,
looks as if it had been badly rubbit the wrang way."
" I can guarantee the animal. It's a rale sweet, nice,
darlin' cat, Miss Jean, an' it'll mak' a nice, warm, usefu'
ornament to oor fireside," put in the spectacle-man.
" Oor fireside ! that settles't," Jean muttered to herself.
" Yes, Tammas, it's jist a perfect beauty o' a cat."
And so in this off-hand way Tippenny Tarn's curious
betrothal gift was effusively accepted by Jean Tamson, and
the affair settled forthwith.
Tam was in fine tune, and sat till the re-appearance of
Jean's twa lodgers that nicht, who returned home from a
protracted visit to a local dram-shop between the rather late
hours of eleven and twelve.
The cat, during the interval, had never once re-appeared
from under the cover of the bed.
Now, Jean's two men lodgers were both originals in their
way.
Paddy Clinker wafc the one, and he was a day labourer in
a Clyde boat-yard ; Johnny Piper was the other, and he
was a brisk old Waterloo pensioner.
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS. 19
It was a Friday night this all happened on, and as
Johnny's quarterly pension had fallen due that day, the
pair had been taking a free-and-easy "rise" out of them-
selves in the local dram-shops all the afternoon.
Their last escapade had been a visit to a small tripe shop
and eating-house, where Paddy, in spite of Church, Pope,
and Friday night, had gone in freely for beef, both cold and
hot, in the form of tripe, mutton pies, and whatever else
came in uppermost at Johnny Piper's martial call.
Therefore when the happy pair reached their lodgings
that night they were in a capital condition for tumbling
into bed without prayers, and with the sure prospect of
having a graphic nightmare time of it till dawn next day.
Jean was already in bed when her two merry lodgers
arrived, dreaming with her eyes open, no doubt, of future
married felicities with the romantic-minded traveller for
" specks."
She distinctly heard her lodgers' unsteady footsteps,
heard their voices, heard bottle and glass clink several
times before they turned into bed for the night, and then
all fell very quiet — almost ominously quiet and still.
Meantime, the tortoise shell cat which Tippenny Tam
had brought her as a present that night, finding all quiet in
the house, seemed to become possessed with a very natural
desire to explore the extent and character of its new
quarters.
Cautiously it popped its head from below the bit of
coloured chintz cloth which curtained the space below the
bed, and then stepped very gingerly across the floor towards
the hearth-stone.
In the dark of the room the phosphorus with which its
soft fur had been so freely rubbed now shone out with
startling luminosity, giving it a most weird, ghostly, and
glittering outline.
Jean saw it, and shook with a nervous fear in everv
20 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS.
limb. She breathed hard with excitement. The cat
turned, stared at her, and — moved in her direction !
A moment after a yell of horror rang throughout the
house, consequent on which the strangely illuminated cat
fled for shelter into the lodgers' room adjoining.
" What's that, Paddy ? " cried the old Waterloo pensioner,
springing from the bed.
"A summons from purgatory, bedad!" answered Paddy
Clinker, as he sprang up in bed and watched the ghostly
apparition flying hither and thither about the room in
bewilderment and fright, like a streak of detached lightning.
" Och, dear, Jahnny Piper ! an' this is what comes of eating
Pratestant baif on a Friday ! Bad luck to the pension-money
that paid for the hot tripe ! Niver, niver, niver more will I
eat baif on a Friday, if I should die in a ditch for the want
of it. Och, och ! luk at that. It's the divil sure, in the
guise of a mad cat. Ave Maria, save me ! Och, here it
comes aofain ! "
This said, poor Paddy quickly crossed himself several
times and cleverly dived from sight under the bed-clothes,
where he lay for some minutes panting with excitement and
fear.
Not so Johnny Piper, however. The bold spirit of
Waterloo still burned heroically in his breast, much as the
passage of years had run it into ash. Taken with a proper
martial spirit, the old Waterloo pensioner at once sprang to
his feet, and seizing along-handled hearth-brush, he dropped
mechanically on one knee, bare as it was, and levelling his
defensive weapon, stood gallantly at the " receive cavalry "
position ; and calmly awaited the attack of the unknown
enemy in his nightshirt !
The cat, thus confronted and excited, seemed to lose control
of itself, and continued flying round the room, over table
and chairs, with the most extraordinary velocity and spirit.
Housed to action by the scrimmage in the room, the stout
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEARS. 21
lodging-wife also got up and took the floor in her night-dress
and her petticoat, and armed with what Paddy Clinker
called the kitchen " provoker," she entered in on the scene
of hostilities.
The sight that met her eyes was truly laughable, had it
been only less seriously tragical, in the view of those
immediately concerned.
Poor Paddy was on his knees in the bed, and in prayer ;
the maddened cat was flying round the room like forked
lisfhtninof ; while the old Waterloo hero was wheeling round
and changing his armed front every moment, so as to face
and meet the impending onset of the excited foe.
" Eh, me ! " cried the confounded lodging- wife, " what ava
sort o' unearthly animal has that awfu' Tippenny Tarn
brocht into my hoose this nicht, that looks like neither
dowg, cat, nor cuddy ? "
'• Bugle the garrison ! call out the 5th Company, and
parade the troops!" shouted out the old Waterloo
pensioner.
" Och ! och ! it's a hot summons from purgatory, I tell
yez," again blurted out Paddy Clinker. " Bad luck to
wicked ould Jahnny Piper's pension-money, an' Pratestant
baif on a Friday ! "
" Mercy me ! every gless ornament in the room 'ill be
smashed to pieces afore my vera e'en," exclaimed the
distracted lodging-wife, making a series of murderous
passes at the cat with the kitchen poker, from the fur
of which, electrified as the hunted animal was with excite-
ment, streaks of phosphorescent light were flying about
the room in all directions.
Thus put to, the excited animal ultimately ended the
row by springing clean through the papered opening of a
broken pane of glass in the room window, and so escaped
into the back court.
The stout lodging-wife was fearfully angry at the trick
22 JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AND FEAPS.
Tippenny Tam had played on her, which she believed had
been wilfully done. If she could only get her tongue round
him for five minutes, she would make him hear her on the
deafest side of his head. Her opportunity came the very
next night, in the shape of a visit from her ardent admirer,
the speck-hawking commercial.
" May I cross yer bonnie fluir the nicht, Miss Jean ? "
said the speck-hawker, in his blandest tones.
"Ye may. I'm particularly wantin' to see ye, an' to
speak wi' ye."
Off came Tarn's bonnet and down he clinkit on the
nearest chair, a gracious smile glazing his flabby coun-
tenance from ear to ear.
" You want to — to — to speak wi' me, my dear Miss
Jean ? " he ventured to say, noticing from her stiff manner
and the severe countenance she kept that something had
surely gone wrong.
" Most particularly I do. In the name o' — o' — o' naitural
history, sir, what sort o' animal was yon ye left here last
nicht ? "
" It was simply a cat — a bit hamely tortie-shell cat,"
sincerely answered the speck-hawker, raising his eyes to his
questioner in astonishment.
" A cat, ca' ye't ? It was a limp o' the vera deil, nae thing
short o't, an' flew but an' ben the hoose for twa stricken
hours in the middle o' the nicht like a ball o' lowin' brimstane,
as me an' my twa men lodgers can this day powerfully
testify. Was't a ghaist, a lowin' limp o' auld C ] ootie, or
what ? Speak ! answer me, sir, whaur ye sit ! "
" It's a pair o' guid reliable specks some o' the three o' ye
are sair needin' if ye're scein' sae bad as a' that, the which I
can supply cheap," the astonished spectacle man blurted out,
not knowing exactly what to think of the lodging- wife's
strange statement. " Had your twa worthy lodgers a smell
o' the bottle last nicht, Miss Jean, may I ask ? "
JEAN TAMSON'S LOVE HOPES, AXD FEARS. 23
" They had, I'm sorry to say."
" An' they distinctly saw this lowin' brimstane ghost ! "
" Owre plainly for their ain peace o' mind."
" An' did ye ackwally see't tae, Miss Jean ? "
" Baith saw't and smelt the brimstane feuch o't."
" Imph ! and ye were perfectly sober, Miss Jean ? "
" Perfectly sober, sir."
" That stowp '11 no carry watter across the park. I can
draw an inference. The marriage is off! "
" What ! ef ter carryin' on an innocent lassie sae faur ?
Hano- ye for a deceivin' auld rascal ! That's the fifth
time I've been lifted up in a man's airms an' syne let fa'
doon wi' a clyte. Deil tak' me if I dinna lash ye, back an'
face, wi' a wat dish-cloot ! "
But the spectacle man was too quick for her. Taking in
the desperate situation at a glance, he cleared both the house
and the lobby leading thereto in three splendid kangaroo
leaps, disappearing down the close with the viewless celerity
of a sixpenny telegram.
Jean Tamson was thus once more left alone, not
"blooming," like the last rose of summer, however, but
weeping with fair vexation and disappointment.
" The marriage is aff, sure enough, an' so is Tippenny Tam,
the unconscionable rascal ! That's the fifth time I've been
led awa' by the men, I'm sae guileless an' sae trustin' at
the heart. I wish I had only pu'd the hale five o' my lovers
up for breach o' promise. I micht ha'e bocht a property wi'
the total damages. My heart has been broken hale five
times, an' if it hadna been made o' rale first-rate Scotch
cahoochie 1 wad ha'e been cauld in my grave lang ere
this. Here I am, however, an unpu'd an' neglected floo'r
in a wildnerness o' thorns an' thistles. I wonder whall
gi'e me my sixth offer % "
24 THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
Watty Treddles, a stocking-weaver in Camlachie, and his
wife Peggy, had a highly promising son, who had been born
with a soul far above weaver's dressing. He was cut out
for a distinguished career, the fond parents believed, as he
had broken more windows, "plunk't" the school oftener,
drowned more dogs, and killed more cats than any other boy
in the district.
He was, in fact, a real born genius, who only needed
opportunity to distinguish himself, and whose great natural
talents required and deserved adequate expansion at the
College classes.
" Pit him to the College," urged Peggy, " an' mak' him
either a minister or a doctor, for the clever callant's fit for
either, or baith o' them. He has an e'e like a lichted candle,
an' as for his broo, it's as braid's a pavement, an's a fair kirk-
steeple for heicht."
" Canny a wee, wife ; ca' canny there," cautiously put in the
old weaver. ' We maun mak' oor way sure an' sicker, stap
by stap, an' look weel afore we lowp the dyke, no' kennin'
what's beyond it. I've ken't a chiel hurriedly jump a dyke
an' land up to the hochs in a dib on the ither side."
"An' what then?" sharply put in Peggy? "Is the
laddie to be nae better than a puir creeshie weaver, like "
" Like wha, or what, Peggy ?"
" Weel, then, like his faither, if I maun say't."
" Canny there, wife ! ca' canny wi' yer tongue ! "
"Tak'yerain way owre the dyke, then, whatever that
may turn oot to be," snapped Peggy.
"Which is this: I'll ca' in lang-leggit Haffy Taffy, the
stickit minister. He's the wonder o' the district for know-
ledge, an' he's reckoned the most desperately learned man
in the hale o' Camlachie, includin' baith weavers an'
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
ministers, half daft as some think him. It's said his neck's
twisted wi' pure knowledge. Onyway, he's reckoned a
grand hand at the bump-readin', an' can read heids, I'm telt,
jist like a minister ca'in' awa' through an afternoon sermon
on the Twal Apostles. For a gill, Haffy 'ill tell us what's in
the laddie's heid, an what's no' in't, an' syne we can decide
on a suitable profession for him — in the line o' Haffy's
learned suggestions, of course."
" Eh, me ! that's a rale grand idea," agreed Peggy. " i
hope an' trust Haffy 'ill find the money-bump big in the
laddie's heid. It wad ding every ither bump to perfect
sticks, an' wad prove vera usefu' in gaun' to the market, I'm
sure. But I'm fear't for't, for the money-bump's no' in oor
family."
" Hang the money-bump ! " retorted Watty, " what mortal
man could save money in this hoose, wi' every blessed
sixpence carefully shaken oot o' his twa breeks' pouches
nicht after nicht, as regularly as the mune rises ? Woman,
ha'e ye no a single particle o' soul inside yer checkit short-
goon whatever ? Try an' pit a handf u' o' sound philosophy
in yer purse, woman, an' let the coppers gang for a time."
" A' richt, my fine man ! I'll pit aside the meal-dish for a
time, also, jist to try ye, an' syne mix yer parritch the morn's
mornin' wi' some plain cauld watter an' a handfu' or twa o'
nice pure philosophy. If ye ha'ena the wind strong on
the stomach efter that it'll no' be for want o' an ample
vawcancy, I'm thinkin'."
Later on the same day it was arranged that HafFy Taffy,
the lang-leggit phrenological chap, should come round to
the house that evening on special invitation, and read for
them their talented son's wonderful and highly-promising
head.
Conformablv to this arrangement, and well knowing
Haffy's predominant tastes, a half-mutchkin of Duncan
Tod's best Glenlivet was duly brocht in and set carefully
t. s. 3
26 THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
by in the cupboard. And the dram being once in the
house, the lang-leggit, dry-nebbit phrenological chap, as if
guided by a keen instinct, was not long behind it.
In fine feather, Haffy presently turned up, with a great
roll of scientific manuscript under his arm, a look of light
and leading in his grand eyes, a dirty-white " choker "
round his thin, wry neck, politeness and eloquence on his
facile tongue, and with his very scant hair most carefully
parted in the middle. In fact, it was quite effusively
obvious that th 4 , scientific Haffy, daft or no' daft, clearly
considered himself quite the professional "toff" that
evening, and was making a highly successful effort to look
the distinguished professional genius on this very special
occasion.
But the chief feature of the philosophic Haffy's personal
get-up was certainly centred in his two legs, which were
encased in a pair of all but skin-tight " strides," grey in
colour, and sprung widely at the feet, with a white stripe
running longitudinally up and down their entire length,
and which, taken in connection with his soiled white
"choker," constituted him a fairly-balanced compromise
between a minister in reduced circumstances and a journey-
man tailor on the spree. His legs in themselves were also
of that type best described by the euphonious term of
" pipe stapples." They were obviously intended by nature
for jumping, or perhaps more strictly for running purposes.
Stickit minister or no' stickit minister, Huffy, in point of
fact, could jump like a lively flea when half on, which was
oftener than otherwise ; and as for the matter of running,
there was no man in all Camlachie that could run faster or
farther into debt than he could, giving him only his head
for it. He was a bit of a practical juggler, too, Haffy having
devoted a portion of his effervescing genius for occult science
and mystery to the trick of sleight-of-hand legerdemain. In
this very fine state of " get-up," he grandiloquently stepped
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST. 27
into the stocking- weaver's homely little parlour that evening,
full of the important business under arrangement.
"Good evening, friends. Hope I see you all blooming? "
was the philosophic Haffy's laconic greeting.
" Like tatties in July," replied Watty, getting to his feet,
and deferentially pushing a chair towards his visitor. " I
needna ask ye hoo ye're haudin' yersel'," he naively added,
" for I see ye're fair shinin' — frae the legs up."
The philosophic Haffy smiled benevolently, and subsided
very gingerly into the proffered chair.
Taking off his jaunty hat, which had the greyish metal
gloss of a newly blackleaded grate, he revealed to the
eyes of the homely domestic pair a forehead which shone
and rose into the sublime altitude and polish of a metal
dish-cover. Haffy next spread out on the table before their
wondering eyes a phrenological chart illustrative of the
interesting science of heads.
The chart showed a hairless female head, all spaced into
little squares, and marked off and classified according to the
teachings of phrenology, in the ordinary way.
" There it is — science beautifully reduced to order and
instructive detail at a single comprehensive glance," loftily
said Haffy, with a grandiloquent wave of the hand.
" Eh, me ? " exclaimed Peggy, lifting both hands in
astonishment ; " whaur did ye get that woman's shaved
heid ? She's no' three weeks oot o' the Infirmary wi' the
fever, I'm fearin'."
Watty, equally amazed, very carefully cleaned and
adjusted his specks, and then solemnly surveyed the
interesting chart.
" Wonderful, most wonderful ! " he said, as his eyes
wandered over the figured chart. " But what," he asked, " is
the meaning o' a' thir wee squares, sae carefully marked aff,
named,an' numbered, j ist like sae mony drapers' trade tickets ? "
" Let me briefly explain," replied the romantic Haffy.
28 THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
" Phrenologists, you see, have divided off the human head
into some thirty-six different compartments, in every one
of which a passion, a perception, or a principle is located."
" Eh, me ! " once more broke in Peggy, " whaever heard
the ekwal o' that ? Jist for a' the world like a kist o'
drawers wi' a' the faimily Sunday claes pit bye in't."
" To a hair, madam — to a very fine hair," acceded the facile
Haffy. " Now, observe," he quickly added, " these passions
and principles are active and passive, according to size and
cultivation. Exercise of any organ of the human head
gives activity to that organ; indolence, or the neglect of it,
gives passivity. In fact, these separate organs of the human
head can be played on just like so many fiddles."
" What ! " suddenly broke in old Watty, " d'ye mean to tell
me that there's organs and fiddles in men's heids ? Whew !
that cock '11 no' fecht, nick its kaim as ye will. A — a — a
greater lee than that never was wabbit in auld Camlachie."
" Do not misunderstand me, pray. Merely the expressive
language of figure, I assure you — merely and solely the
expressive language of figure. Well, to resume : a person
who is largely developed here (pointing to Benevolence)
will be a good man, probably a public philanthropist, or a
Gospel preacher."
" That's oor young son," once more broke in Peggy. " He
has a lump fair on the roof o' his heid as big as a juck's
egg-"
" Oh, then, my dear madam, just bring him in at once,"
said the romantic and highly facile Haffy. " I can illustrate
my subject still better from the living human head, I
daresay."
" An' jist bring ben the dram also, when ye're at it,"
added Watty. " A body wad need something to haud their
wits firm themther under sic a scoutherin' lash o' know-
ledge. The wab-weavin's an intricate job, some think;
but, by my faith, the phrenology trade's far intricater.
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST. ( 29
The two subjects thus in immediate request were soon in
the little room, to the more liquid and potent of which Haffy
did instant and ample justice, putting over his allowance
with a hearty smack.
" And now to business," he said, smiling blandly at the
young hopeful standing so passively before him. 'Your
head, sir, — there ! Ah ! capital — grand — famous," he went
on, exhausting all his available stock of high-sounding
adjectives. " This is a head, and no mistake ! "
" Didna I tell ye the laddie was made for the pulpit ? "
triumphantly thrust in Peggy.
" Not exactly the pulpit, my dear woman," mildly rejoined
the highly adaptable Haffy. " Pulpit gown and cassock are
not exactly for your son. He's of the Christopher Columbus
type, I find."
" But what, in auld Harry's name, is the yiss o' anither
Christopher Columbus when America's been already dis-
covered twa hunder years since?" put in the old weaver.
" Graip his heid again, Haffy, an' try an' fetch him oot
as a precentor, a doctor, or, to please oor wife there, a
minister o' the Gospel."
" Couldn't, my dear sir, if you was to give me a whole
Atlas of gold. The laws of Nature are unalterable. This
young man is a born Christopher Columbus, I tell ye, and
as such he must sink or swim."
" Noo, when I come to think on't," put in Peggy, " when
he was jist a wee schule-laddie, no' that heicht, he was fair
mad for paper boats, oor wee bairn. A shoo'er o' rain
couldna fa' but he was oot sailin' his paper ships in the
gutters."
"That's just it," naively added Haffy, "the highest
development in this young man's head, I find, is an organ
recently discovered by myself, and called in Latin Aquabus
purabus marinabus, and which means in English pure sea
water."
30 THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
"What !" exclaimed the old weaver, "d'ye mean to threep
doun my throat that the laddie's got the watter in the heid ? "
"His head's full of water, I assure you, figuratively
speaking," answered Haffy, with a complacent smile, which
gradually broadened out so ineffably as almost to connect
the two corners of his mouth with his rather long and
flabby ears.
" Weel, I've seen stooky feegurs in my time," said Watty,
" but as for your feegurs o' speech, I ken but little o' them.
Hoosomever, that there is either sea, river, or pump watter
in the laddie's heid, swall't at the croon as it looks, is what I'll
no thole said o' him, phrenology here or phrenology yonder."
"Aquabus pwrabus marinabus," smilingly maintained
the facile Haffy," "that's the grand feature of this pro-
mising young man's finely-gifted, Columbus-like peak-of-
Teneriffe, marine head."
" Weel," said the old weaver, giving up the argued point,
" I've heard o' mulk in a cocoa-nut, but hang me if ever I
heard tell o' sea-watter in the human heid. It beats cock-
fechtin'."
" Man, ye're awful slow in the uptak'," again broke in Peggy.
" D'ye no' perceive that that's maybe whaur a' the saut tears
come frae when a body's broken wi' sorrow an' greetin' ! "
" Capital, my dear madam — capital ! " exclaimed the
facile Haffy, helping himself to a fresh tumbler.
" Lord, so it is ! I never saw't till this moment. There's
a reason for a' things, if we could only win at the bottom
o' them, I must admit."
" Believe me, aquabus purabus marinabus is the young
mini's strong bit," added Haffy. "Take my advice and
send him off to sea at once. He's an embryotic Columbus.
Give him plenty of water and he'll swim, proudly swim,
onwards and upwards to immortal glory."
The old weaver did not exactly see how any one could very
well swim wpiuards to glory. However, he swallowed the ad-
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST. 31
jective along with a fresh glass, and made no comment there-
anent, concluding in his own canny mind, very probably,
that it was another of Haffy's bamboozling figures of speech.
After this, conversation flowed into general channels, and
on Peggy graciously praising Haffy for his wonderful
cleverness, he offered to further illustrate his talents by
showing them a clever trick in sleight-of-hand legerdemain
if they would only permit him.
" Have you half-a-sovereign — just for one moment ? " he
smartly inquired.
" There's no' sic an article in the hoose, I'm sorry to say.
They're fell scarce aboot the district the noo," truthfully
answered Watty.
" A half-crown will do, then," said Haffy, extending his
open hand for the needed coin.
The half-crown was ultimately produced by Peggy from
the bottom of an old china cup, placed handily in the corner
of a shelf.
" Now observe," said Haffy, " this is what is designated
the 'disappearing trick.' In other words, the half-crown
goes ; I remain."
Saying this much, Haffy introduced the half-crown to his
mouth, and pronouncing the word " Change," the coin
instantly fled therefrom, finding a lodgment in his coat-sleeve.
" Wonderful ! " exclaimed the astonished Peggy.
"Try't again," said Watty, re-adjusting his specks. " It's
a trick, I ken, if yin could only smartly follow't up."
The trick was successfully repeated, with clever move-
ment of hand and mouth.
The old weaver again looked blank astonishment, having
failed to follow it.
K Observe, I'll give you one chance once more," said the
facile Haffy, putting the coin in his mouth for the third
time. " Now — go ! "
But what's the matter with Haffy ? He wriggles in his
32 THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST.
chair, his eyes turn round, he draws in a big sigh. The half-
crown is apparently swallowed by mistake this time !
Peggy, greatly alarmed, offers to run for the local
apothecary, while Watty rises hurriedly from his chair for
the purpose of " bungin' " the unfortunate Haffy on the back
to force up the half -swallowed coin.
" No use — no need," calmly says Haffy, recovering breath
and speech with quite surprising alacrity. " It's gone — it's
over — it's swallowed — it's lost, irretrievably lost, I tell you.
And that's the end of it — a narrow escape for me ! "
So said the cunning Haffy, the swallowed half-crown being
cleverly secreted up his sleeve all the time, as before.
" Now I'll retire, I think," he said, getting smartly to his
feet, putting at the same moment the phrenological chart
under his arm. " Remember what I told you. Your son is
a local Columbus, minus a discovered America. Given the
water, he'll swim. Good-night, friends, good-night."
" Na, na, my line chiel ! that cock 'ill no' fecht," quickly
thrust in the old weaver. " Sit ye doun a bit till Peggy pre-
pares ye an emetic o' saut an' het watter to gar ye bock up the
swallowed half-croon. Ye're no' gaun' to dae the disappeerin'
trick wi' my half-croon sae easily as a' that. Peggy, twa
pints o' het watter an' a handfu' o' saut, as fast's ye can."
" Impossible, my dear sir, — impossible ! I appeal to your
sense, to your humanity, not to say to the pathology of the
accident," expostulated Haffy, clapping on his hat.
" Pathology here or pathology yonder," replied Watty,
" in twa minutes doon yer throat gangs the saut an' watter,
an' up comes the half-croon, if ye dinna first produce that
same swallowed coin, which I verily believe is hidden up yer
sleeve this blessed minute."
" Gone, irretrievably gone ! " replied Haffy, pointing
pathetically to his throat.
" That'll no' dae. It could never win owre the natural
twist in yer neck, Haffy."
THE AMATEUR PHRENOLOGIST. 33
" It's gone — gone — gone ! I tell you, and I'm going too.
Eemember what I've told you about the young man. The
salt water is for his head, clearly, but would be quite out of
place in my stomach. He's a local Columbus, I tell you,
minus America. Aquabus purabus marinabus, that's his
mental figure-head. Kindly let me pass, will you ? "
" No, hang me if I dae. Confound yer aquabus purabus
marinabus. Deliver up that hidden half-croon, or I'll break
yer backabus with a blowabus of this stickabus. Remember
you thatabus ! "
This said, Geordie, full of just wrath, made to put his
comical threat into operation, seeing which, the romantic and
highly learned Haffy made a frantic spring in the direction
of the door and successfully cleared the premises in three
magnificent kangaroo leaps.
" Confound the lang-leggit thief ! " exclaimed Watty ;
" he's fairly aff wi' that half-croonabus ! "
" Never mind ; oor son's to be a Columbus, he says, an'
that's surely worth mair than the half- croon in itsel'," said
Peggy, in a mollifying tone of voice.
" Columbus be blowed ! I'm only fell vex't I didna get
the chance to break his confoonded scientific back wi' the
heavy end o' this auld stickabus. Hoosomever, if oor laddie
maun gang to the sea to push his way forrit in the world,
thank Heaven, we ha'e twa canals at hand, in either o' which
a word wi' canal Tarn, the manager o' the Port-Dundas canal,
wad get him articled an' indentured for the service, if only
properly wetted wi' a frien'ly dram."
And so, in the line of Haffy Taffy's phrenological prophecy
the youth was soon after sent to the " sea " in a Port-Dundas
canal boat, where he rose to eminence in his profession, as the
responsible Captain of a steam-scow, plying regularly
between Port-Dundas and the foreign ports of Bowling,
Kirkintilloch, and the Monkland !
34 PETER PATERSON, THE POET.
PETER PATERSON, THE POET.
That jaunty and vivacious genius of the public platform,
Professor Blackie, is credited with having estimated the
living poets of Scotland as numbering several thousands.
The estimate is greatly under the truth. The poets of
Scotland at the present time are to be rated by tens of
thousands, if not, indeed, hundreds of thousands.
Why this should be so is not explainable on ordinary
lines. The Scotch are not at all an emotional people — their
climate is not particularly poetical in its aspects — the mass
of the people are sensible rather than frivolous — and lastly,
the cast of the national head is after the shape and character
of a well-fired brick, rather than approximating to
anything like a copy of the ideal Shakesperian dome of
thought.
But then, of course, Scotland has unequalled piles of lofty
and rugged hills, glens, burns, lochs, rills, and rivers ; and in
these inspiring attributes of physical beauty the national
lyre has all along been heartily twanged. Moreover,
the Scotch have had a history at once the most romantic
and manly in the world. And there again, heard
or unheard, the native poets of the rural townships and
country clachans have all along proved themselves to be, in
the matter of verse-making at least, " the chaps that can't
keep still."
Peter Paterson, a lowly-born, but romantic minded poet,
had been a much-married man in his day. He had been
three times a widower, no less, and was now a nightly
inmate of a twopenny lodging-house, having no immediate
prospect of a fourth wife. His first wife had lost her reason
trying to appreciate his " poetry." His second wife lost her
life trying to live off it. His third wife had lost an e'e looking
for money in his empty pockets, and on discovering a
PETER PATERSON, THE POET. 35
"fowrpenny bit" one night, the unexpected shock had
upset her reason and fairly killed her.
A single incident in this connection will show up Pate's
innocent, guileless, poetic ways, not less than his lofty
estimate of married bliss : —
Being out into the country one summer day admiring
nature, he found a half-mutch kin bottle of spirits lying on a
turf dyke.
He smelt it — whisky ! All right ! still there was a certain
risk. It might be drugged — poisoned — or anything you
like.
Away home Pate goes, in a big hurry, the bottle of
whisky in his pocket. The face of Nature, fair as it was in
his poetic eyes, had no manner of charm equal to that of
whisky !
Arriving at home, Pate said nothing, but filled out a glass,
and bade his third wife drink. She drank it right off. He
waited. No evil effects resulted. She got no rnore of it.
Pate went for the rest of it like a soldier. A wife is some-
times a useful plague, after all, if one only knew, like Pate,
how to utilise them.
Pate's history, as embodied in his poetical experiences, is
worth relating on account not only of its many racy passages,
but also for the wholesome lecture it reads to those whom it
closely concerns — the minor poets of Scotland. As one of its
outstanding episodes, we shall here give a chapter on Pate's
experiences as a poet publishing his first, and, as it proved
in Pate's case, his last volume of verse ; for Pate, poor
man, like the typical washer wife, spent a lot of time
over his lines, and found life full of nothing better than
hard rubs.
Pate was one of the old-fashioned lum-cheek shaemakers,
now all but obsolete, who did their trysted work and repair
jobs mostly at their own kitchen fire-end.
Pate, however, had a soul above mere unpoetic shoe-
36 PETER PATERSON, THE POET.
leather, and very early discovered a facile talent for glueing
rhymes together, a practice which would have proved
remunerative enough, no doubt, if the produce of the Muse
could have been carried for sale to the market like cow heels,
sheep-heids, live poultry, and other marketable commodities.
Pay or no pay, however, Pate was bound to regularly
rhyme or break out in a sort of skin disorder analogous in
appearance to the measles.
In the pursuance of this inborn habit he had rhymed to
such purpose, in the matter of quantity at least, that a
volume became in time a necessity of the hour and the
occasion. A volume was, therefore, decided on. And why not,
Pate reasoned with himself, his third wife, and his friends ?
Other working shoemakers had published volumes, and had
in consequence become famous. Why not he ? That's what
Pate always wanted to know, or rather not to know. For
a volume he was bent on producing, in the face of all odds,
including his third wife — which latter obstacle heavily tipped
the balance over all the rest.
Ah, yes, that was where the shoe pinched sorest. What
then ? Did Pate's third spouse discourage and underestimate
his romantic genius ? Well, perhaps she did — perhaps
she did !
Pate never actually said so, but when asked if his wife
fully appreciated his lofty poetic genius, he was in the habit
of answering the pointed question by pushing the one side
of his nose nearly flat down with his right forefinger on the
opposite side of his face, and knowingly winking with his
left eye.
However, Pate's unromantic spouse was in some effectual
way bought over for the grand occasion, and the idea of a
volume was proceeded with apace.
Having got a prospectus printed, Pate's next part of the
business was to get a sufficient number of subscribers' names
adhibited. And that proved the first rock of despair ahead
PETER PATERSON, THE POET. 37
of Pate's onward and upward path ; lor Pate, notwithstand-
ing his poetic elevation of soul, was in numerous instances
most cruelly sat upon. Yes, sat upon. He was deliberately
and most unfeelingly sat upon, and his projected volume
was all but crushed in its beautiful and interesting bud.
In fact, the pure ruffianism and obtuse hard-headedness
displayed by the public in the matter was quite appalling,
and on several occasions very nearly choked the poor poet
outright. One rascal whose name was solicited threatened
to send the dog after him. A second ruffian offered him so
much the hundred for unsold copies of his book when ready
to be used as butter paper. A third callous wretch recom-
mended him to shave his head and wear a damp cabbage
blade inside his hat as a check to the poetic measles. While
another shocking vagabond, of the sarcastic Mark Twain
type, asked the poet if the hallucination was a family one ?
and whether he (the poet) liked his whisky neat or watered ?
suggesting that he rather thought he preferred it neat, if
the seventeen prismatic colours of his highly-artistic nose
went for anything !
Pate persevered through it all, however, and finished the
business on the right side of the subscription sheet by
getting over three hundred pledged subscribers, and
about twice the amount of open insults. He had his
revenge for the latter by writing a poetical address to
those who wouldn't subscribe to the venture, the closing
verses of which were as follows : —
Such is the fate of genius, such
The doom the poet shares ;
He and boot leather are in touch
If he but show his wares.
"Be off I " the great man thunders forth.
The poet, with shock'd ears,
Retires, an injured man of worth,
To porter ! and to tears !
At last, however, Pate's book " cam' oot," and the proud
38 PETER PATER SOX, THE POET.
poet at once proceeded with the distribution of his sub-
scribed-for copies. And here Pate's real troubles began.
The job consumed more time and developed more incident
than he had bargained for. To begin with, he was more
successful in leaving his books with subscribers than in
getting paid for them. " Call again " was reiterated in poor
Pate's despairing ears fifty times a day. Some paid the
half-crown with a grudge ; others wanted 3d. off the shil-
ling, as they could purchase books in the town at that rate ;
while one brick-headed ruffian coolly accepted the book for
nothing, and flung it carelessly aside, with a grumph.
" Hauf-a-croon, sir, if you please," meekly said the poor
poet, extending his open hand.
" For what ? " gruffly questioned the savage satirist.
" My book of poems," said Pate.
The next moment the fellow handed back the poet his
book, remarking with callous lips —
"There's a jobbing tradesman up the street a bit who
slates roofs and damaged heads at a trifling cost. I can
recommend you to him. Couldn't entrust your Byronic
cocoa-nut to a safer hand."
More personal still, there was a Dutch-built cook serving
a family in Monteith Row, in whose praise the guileless
poet had indited a perfectly gushing poem, and in which he
bad addressed her as his " Bonnie Pot o' Jam," making the
word "jam" rhyme in every alternate line with an imagi-
nary love-swain called " Tam." This same rather fleshy
nymph of the scullery, however, took offence at the " bonnie
pot o' jam" comparison, and by way of resentment threatened
the poor poet with the " dish-cloot " instead of the more
useful half-crown. Under the crucial circumstances, Pate
was glad to pocket his volume and cut his stick without
further loss of time.
Worse than even that, the unfortunate poet was one day
set upon by a local pawnbroker's auctioneer whom he had
PETER PATERSON, THE POET. 39
rather satirically " poemed," comparing him to a member of
the fighting P.R. in the sense that it was his professional
business to " knock down " everything that came before him.
The guileless poet thought the comparison was a stroke
of pure poetic genius, and secretly complimented himself on
its cleverness. The satirised auctioneer, however, took a
diametrically opposite view of the matter, and meeting the
poet with his books on his back, said he had a precious
good mind to knock him down on the spot for one.
" It would be very much in the line of your business," the
poet faltered out, trying to whistle up his sinking courage.
" Exactly — going, going, gone ! " replied the auctioneer,
and, driving out his dexter fist, down went Sir Poet with
his bundle of books on the pavement.
The assailant thereupon walked rapidly off, thinking he
had done a rather smart thing — a belief which the knocked-
dovvn poet fully shared.
Pate got up and made tracks for home, but experienced
considerable difficulty in reaching his humble domicile, for
the confusing reason that (thanks to the auctioneer's well-
planted right-hander) he was seeing about six different
ways at once.
When he did reach his own humble domicile, he sat down
by the fireside in a condition of mind which could scarcely
be called acutely happy. For the two succeeding days he
kept the house, fully occupying his spare time by nursing
his damaged eye with a piece of raw steak. Ever after-
wards poor Pate's opinion of auctioneers was strictly
private and reserved.
As for the newspaper editors to whom he sent copies
of his book for review, they, knowing their business better,
let him so softly down that the innocent-minded poet
thought he was being kindly, not to say handsomely han-
dled, which was indeed the case, though not in the flattering
sense that the poet viewed it.
40 PETER PATERSON, THE POET.
But the "bubbly-jock" of life turned up here also, as ill-luck
would have it, in the person of a reviewer of a humorous
type, who styled Pate a " rhyme-struck lunatic," and who
further declared that the author's book, like his head, had
as much wood in it as would successfully swim it ashore
from a mid-ocean wreck. He further wagered that Pate
was not clever enough to find a rhyme to the word
" orange," offering to print a second edition of his poems
for nothing if he succeeded.
Pate thought that the proper use of an orange was to be
sucked dry, and not to be dragged in as a rhyming corollar\ r .
Notwithstanding this, he made an exhaustive effort to
find a rhyme to the word " orange," but couldn't. True, he
got the length of " porringer " to the word " oranger," but
there he was fatally fixed up and pumped dry. No nearer
rhyme could he get, try as hard as he would ; so the second
edition of Pate's gifted book of poems remains unprinted
till this day.
The jokes of friends on the sore subject were hard enough
to bear, but Pate experienced even a worse sting in the
biting sarcasm of his third wife, who had all along expected
a new silk gown out of the profits of the poems at the least.
She nagged at him so continuously on the sore subject,
and on the " orange " challenge for some days, that the poet
at last threw himself into fierce poetic form and wrote out a
powerful remonstrance and challenge, which opened as
follows : —
Woman, thy mission is to work the pot-stick,
And not to make of me a blooming hot-stick ;
'I'd be or not to be? that is the question !
Whether this " orange " and its vile suggestion
Of my poetical incompetence
Is to be trailed under my nasal sense —
T' excite me as a red rag does the bull ?
By Shakespeare, no ! say I. My soul is full
Of high communings with the Sacred Nine —
Take away that ilish-clout! — I am half divine.
PETER PATERSON, THE POET. 41
It will be guessed from the tone of this lofty and indig-
nant remonstrance that Pate was not only "half divine,"
but that he was in addition wholly angry, and that he had
more than a merely poetical antipathy to -that article of
domestic use, the dish-clout. The fact is, Pate had a perfect
horror of it, as his third wife was in the invariable habit
of enforcing her arguments with it by vigorously
swin^ino: it round her head, to the serious danger of her
husband's beautiful, not to say poetical, nose, the point
of which turned itself up to the empyrean airs of heaven as
naturally as the flowers turn their petals to the warm
sunlight.
Pate was so angry with the jocular editor referred to
that he sent him au indignant " epistle" in rhyme, threaten-
ing a personal visit on the following afternoon.
Pate called at the editor's office the next day, as threatened.
The editor, cleverly estimating his man, had prepared
another mild joke at the poor poet's expense.
" Is the editor in ? " asked the poet at a counter clerk in
the office, which was situated on the ground flat.
" Your name ? " said the clerk.
" Pate the poet, they ca' me. I'm the author of "
"Yes, yes, I thought so. I saw genius in your line
electric-lighted eyes. You deserve a rise in the world.
Come this way, please," and he led the guileless poet across
the floor to the " hoist," upon which he invited the poet to
step.
Pate delightedly did so, and the next moment he found
himself alone, and on the decided " rise."
"A real gentleman this commercial man is — a perfect
gentleman," said the poet to himself. " He saw genius in
my very eyes. Wonder if the stupid owl of an editor will ?
Not likely, I fear."
Suddenly the hoist stopped short, like somebody's " grand-
father's clock," which clock was probably overwound or run
T. s. 4
42 PETER PATERSON, THE POET.
out, as the hoist in question at this particular moment
certainly was. Anyhow, the hoist suddenly stopped, and
Pate, stepping out, found himself — on the roof!
A workman was busy repairing a damaged bit of the
slated portion thereof.
Pate's breath suddenly left him. He had a glimmering
suspicion that he had been " sold again," as the Cheap Jacks
commonly say of their disposed-of wares.
" Is the editor about ? " he timidly inquired of the workman.
" Busy slating his upper storey," said the jocular workman,
suggestively tapping his forehead. " If the editor's any-
where, he should be down-stairs, I conclude. Leastways
his boots should, of which, if you're a poet, pray have a
proper care ! "
" Yes, sold again," said the poet to himself, as he sadly
turned his fine eyes from the contemplation of this jocular
.slater.
He went home that day, the poet did, sad at heart, and
with the conviction deeply graven on his mind that the
newspaper editor was the born " bubbly jock " of the
present-day poet — his sworn enemy, his stumbling-block,
the fatal bar to his upward singing and winging progress.
Ever afterwards if an editor's name was mentioned in
Pate's hearing, -especially in connection with poetry, the poet
invariably shied at the head of the offending party the
article nearest at his hand at the particular moment, which
was a pewter porter- pot oftener than anything else; or,
failing that, the blackened remains of a smoked-out clay
pipe.
Such, alas ! is too often the sad fate of genius — such the
dire insults and contumely to which that exquisite and
neglected being, the poet, is too often forced to suffer during
his melancholy progress through this wicked and prosaic
wilderness of thorns.
We conclude the tragically amusing record of Pate's
COMING HAME FOU. 43
graphic experiences as a Scotch poet by quoting one of his
own finest and truest stanzas : —
THE POETS FATE!
Misluck and trouble haunt the poet's life,
Who oft resorts to gentle shifts and tricks.
Run down, his fine soul wearies of the strife —
Denying IOU's and dodging bricks !
Thus, thus the poet lives, his angel wings
Worn to the bone on life's hard, flinty rocks ;
His harp of gold repaired with old ham-strings,
His last reward — a pauper's wooden box !
COMING HAME FOU.
George Shuttle was a handloom weaver in the auld
Calton, of Glasgow. He was a man of an extremely douce,
canny, and auld-fashioned type — a type of Scottish crafts-
men, now all but passed away.
Geordie had a stick-leg, the result of an accident in early
life, which added to rather than detracted from the humour
of his interesting personality. Geordie was monomaniac on
his stick leg. He nursed it like a baby, and found it useful
in a variety of ways. His wife, Mattie, was a " managing "
woman, and would have managed Geordie as a bit of the
ordinary house furniture but for his stick leg, which he
usually screwed off as a safe weapon of defence when Mattie
was threatening hostilities. In this sense, the screwing-off
of his locomotive appendage was to Geordie what the cele-
brated " Old Guard " was to the great Napoleon — a sort of
final and unfailing go-in-and-win reserve force, the mere
threat of which usually took the stiff starch out of Mattie.
" Anither word , Mattie, an' aff comes the stick leg ! "
That invariably was Geordie's last sheet-anchor hope
during any more than usually heavy domestic gale. The
44 COMING HAME FOIL
wind commonly fell quiet after that, just like fair magic.
The amusing circumstance I have now to tell refers to a
certain occasion on which Geordie — worthy man ! — came
home " fou " from a Masons' meeting one night, and his
wife's rather warm reception of him, with the scene
which followed.
There are, perhaps, worse trials in life than a man coming
hame fou on a Saturday night ; but there are, at the same
time, few trials which are so bitterly resented by the
thrifty housewife, especially if the guidman happens to
come home with his pouches pick't bare, as is, alas! only
too often the case in the circumstances.
Not that honest Mattie, the weel-faured and equally weel-
meaning spouse of our homely hero, had often cause to com-
plain on this sore score. Not at all. Geordie Shuttle was
ordinarily a douce, weel-ordered, canny-gaun Christian, who
took a " gless " and let it alone, as wise folks for the most
part do. He was not quite immaculate, however, any more
than his neighbour craftsmen, and the text of this chapter-
was occasioned by the recollection of Geordie's home-coming
from a Masons' quarterly meeting one night more than half-
a-century ago, as mixed as a handful of coppers, and seeing
six ways at once.
Geordie's presence outside the door of his house that
night, just as the auld Parish Kirk bell in the vicinity was
tolling out the solemn hour of twelve, was made manifest
to his alarmed wife Mattie, by a series of unsuccessful and
ludicrous attempts on the part of the old weaver to find
the keyhole of the door.
Mattie, who had been waiting his delayed return with a
mixture of anger and alarm, quickly rose to her feet and
went towards the door, not quite certain whether the person
outside was her foolish husband, or, dreadful thought, a
midnight burglar !
She was very soon disabused of her nervous fears on the
COMING HAME FOU. 45
latter score, however, although equally alarmed on another
point. Placing her ear close against the door, she distinctly
heard her husband say to himself —
" No, no, Maggie Glen ; nae mair for me, my dear woman,
if you please ; no anither drap for me. If I was to gang
hame this night wi' jist the wee'st drappie in my left e'e,
oor Mattie would pu' a the feathers oot o' my beid; no
anither drap for me, if you please."
Mattie started as if she had been suddenly shot at.
" Wha cood Maggie Glen be ? " she quickly asked herself,
" that was sae gracious wi' the whisky jar — an anither
wife's man ! "
Listening again, she distinctly heard Geordie say —
" Whaur's that blessed keyhole ? I'm hang'd if Mattie
hisna filled up the keyhole o' the door wi' potty. A fine
trick to play me ! But I'm up to her wee bit game. She
wants to mak' me knock her up so as she'll see what time
I come hame, an' in what specific condition I may happen
to be in, so as she can lecture me accordingly. But she'll
no ken, no even if I should hae to tak' the Ctyde for't this
precious night."
This said, Geordie turned on his left heel, or, more strictly
speaking, on his stick leg, and made to leave the spot.
The next moment the door flew open, and a voice was
heard — not exactly the persuasive voice of Maggie Glen,
" mv dear " — but the veritable voice of his wife Mattie
frozen into a hard, cold, cutting edge by the just anger of
her jealous mind.
"George ! George Shuttle ! come back here this moment!"
the voice came after him.
Instantly Geordie stopped short, like a suddenly over-
wound clock, with a sort of gasping snap.
" It's Mattie's heavenly- toned voice I hear," he cautiously
whispered to himself. " Lord ! I'm in for't noo ! I'll catch
it hot ! "
46 COMING HAME FOU.
Wheeling about, Geordie attempted to steady himself on
his best leg, keeping the " stick-yin " spinning round as a
handy " balancer," in case the flagstones of the pavement
should rise suddenly up and attempt, in an excess of
affection, to kiss him on the brow.
" Weel, Mattie, my dear ! " was Geordie's loving salutation,
as he turned about and steadily faced his angry better-half.
Mattie cast a severe glance at him, surveyed his disordered
externals for a moment, so to speak, and saw that it was,
indeed, her own foolish husband, under the undue influence
of drink, and visibly out of his usual douce and canny wits.
Yes, there was no mistake about the man, or the stick
leg either. But the hat on his head ? How came he by
that strange hat, she wondered. It was not her Geordie's
hat, whosever it might turn out to be. That was certain.
Geordie invariably wore a woollen cap of her own thrifty
knitting. And this was a hat — a veritable " lum hat," too !
And, what was more mysterious still, it was positively a
policeman's hat.
What could it all mean, Mattie wondered ? It was the
body, certainly, but not the hat of Esau !
It meant what Mattie did not, of course, just then know
viz., that Geordie had forgathered with a Highland
policeman on the way home, and had shared with him
a o-ood mutchkin of whisky from a bottle which he had filled
before leaving Maggie Glen's. The constable and our
homely hero had grown so very gracious and confiding over
the dram that in an excess of social humour they had
actually exchanged hats ; and what was very natural under
the peculiar circumstances, on parting they had quite for-
gotten to restore to each other their exchanged headgear !
And here, therefore, was the humiliating spectacle of douce,
canny-gaun Geordie Shuttle knocking for admission at his
own door at twelve o'clock at night, as fou's the Clyde, an',
waur than even that, with a common toon-policeman'*
COMING HAME FOU. 47
hat on ! The humour of the situation was intensified by
the fact that Geordie was unaware of the distinction he was
thus carrying aloft on his homely and unambitious head,
having quite forgotten everything appertaining to the
whole matter.
" Mattie, my dear, I was saying," the conscience-stricken
husband at length ventured to repeat.
" Don't ' dear ' me, George Shuttle," retorted Mattie, in a
tone of offended pride. " Keep that fine word for Miss
Margeret Glen, whaever she may be, ye vaigabond ! "
" Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed aloud Geordie. " Maggie Glen,
the snuffy auld brewster wife wha supplies the dram. Is
that whaur this sherp an' snelly side-win' is blawin' aff o' ?
H'm ! a puir enough bit caunle en' to licht a fire at ! "
"Ay, an' a bonnie dram she's gien ye, atweel, that keeps
ye spinnin' aboot there, at twal o'clock o' nicht, like a schule
laddie's peerie newly aff the string ; an', waur than that,
sen's ye hame here wantin' yer seven senses, an' wi' a polis-
man's hat on yer heid ! A bonnie dram, atweel ! "
Geordie at this juncture put up his hand to his head, and
sure enough there, indeed, was the policeman's veritable tile
sticking up on the back of his rather mixed head, giving
him for all the world the appearance of a craw-bogle which
had just newly walked away from some suburban potato field.
The revelation was a staggerer to the man of yarn, but he
was equal to the occasion.
" Wheesht ! tvheesht ! Mattie ; if ony o' the twa o's has a
richt to fa' oot wi' ither, it's me wi' you," he resumed with
suddenly-acquired spirit, the drink giving his canny nerves
a sort of heeze up on the dyke, so to speak.
" George Shuttle ! " said Mattie, by way of very stern
reproof. She always said George, and never Geordie, when
her " spunk was up," as our pawky hero put it. But it
wouldn't draw this time.
" Oh, ye may ' George ' me f rae this till Martinmas, if ye
48 COMING HAME FOU.
like, Mattie," retorted the husband, still maintaining his
distant position outside the house door. " Of the twa o's,
Mattie, ye' re maist in the blame, I maintain."
" Me maist in the blame ? " indignantly exclaimed Mattie.
" Undoubtedly," said Geordie, with as much authoritative
solemnity as his swimming head would allow him to sum-
mon up. " Wha filled the keyhole o' the door wi' potty to
keep me frae getting in this check key, eh ? "
Mattie gazed at her husband and the article he displayed
in his hand in severe silence.
" Ha, woman, I have ye nately there, eh ! "
•' D'ye ca' that a door-key ? " sneered Mattie in return.
Geordie looked at the article he was holding so trium-
phantly in his right hand, and lo ! it was a cork-screw !
"On second thochts, Mattie, I think it will not be
advisable to unduly protract this discussion, considerin' the
time o' nicht," remarked the defeated husband.
" Oh, yes ; a fine exkuse, efter comin' hame drunk wi' a
polisman's hat on yer stupid heid, an' a cork-screw in yer
han' for a door-k«y, nae less ! "
" Haud a bit, Matttie ; haud a bit, if you please. There's
no muckle wrang wi' the hat, as far as I can see, eh ? "
" An' that's scarcely across the brig o' yer ain nose the
nicht," thrust in Mattie with keen sarcasm.
" There's no muckle the maitter wi' the auld hat, I was
sayin', and still less wrang wi' the heid that's noo in it.
An' as for being drunk, I'll no thole to be ca'd drunk, sae
Jang's I can keep my twa feet firmly. But I'll cairry this
interesting question to the back-shop for further discussion
the morn's forenoon. Meantime I'll tak' the inside o' the
door the nicht, Mattie, wi' your gracious permission, for my
heid's whirlin' roon like a bit paper on a windy da3 r . But,
Mattie, dinna ye say I'm drunk when I'm fair, square, an'
sober ; for that's what I'll no thole, fecht me wha likes."
" No drunk?" sneered Mattie, as she followed her husband
COMING HAME FOIL 49
into the house. " Look at yer condition, an' jist look at the
state o' yer claes ; glaured frae heid to fit, an' a great rent
in yer widden leg that a sixpence worth o' glue '11 no
sowther."
" It was bitten by a dowg," thrust in Geordie.
"An' as for yer heid," continued Mattie, with increasing
sarcasm, "it's clean reversed roon', an's a' tapsalteerie.
Ca'in an auld cork-screw a door key! an' comin' hame wi'
a polisman's hat stuck on the back o' yer heid, lookin' for a'
the woiT like an auld bauchle stuck on a pole for the bairns
to pap stanes at. There's fine, douce, respectable conduct
for a kirk-elder — sobriety and rale fine first-rate common-
sense, bonnily illustrated and exemplified. To complete
the picture ye only want one thing, Mister Shuttle, noo
that I see ye in the licht."
" An', pray, what's that, Mistress Shuttle, if you please ? "
" Yer pouches turned ootside in, an' yer breeks drawn
on wrang-side foremost," answered Mattie with smiling
sarcasm.
" Go you to Dumbarton ! I'm as square an' richt this
nicht as sixpence o' coppers — no a bawbee short in the
coont."
" May be ? " retorted Mattie, " but I dinna believe ye hae
sense enough left to blaw oot a lichtit caunle."
" It wad tak' a lot to extinguish you, onyway, as I ken
to my cost this nicht," boldly thrust in the man of yarn,
divesting himself of his coat and suddenly flinging himself
on the top of the bed, his temper visibly on the rise.
" I declare if the madman's no gaun to bed wi' his buits
on, and a polisman's hat on his heid ! " exclaimed Mattie,
clasping her two hands together in astonishment.
" Confound you and the hat baith," replied the wroth
husband, and, taking sharp aim, he made the discussed hat
spin in the direction of Mattie's head, who cleverly ducked
in neat time, and so saved her sonsie countenance from abuse.
50 THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEG.
" Drunk ! ay, dangerously, murderously, drunk ! " was
Mattie's bitter retort.
"Anither word, Mattie, an' aff comes the stick leg !"
"Oh, mercy! murder — polis!" yelled Mattie, knowing
that if the stick leg once came off she was in for a chase
round the kitchen. " Polis ! "
"A' richt, Mattie ; if the polisman's absent, ye've his hat
beside ye, at the least, an' that's certainly better than jist
naething ava', if it's no very muckle after a'. Meantime, I'm
for a sleep, my dear. Till the morn's mornin' ta ta, or as the
polite letter- writers say, ' till we next meet.' — Yours most
respectfully, " Geordie Shuttle."
This said, our pawky-minded hero kicked off his one boot,
drew the bedclothes up to his chin, and, composing his some-
what excited nerves as best he could, he w T as very soon in the
arms of Morpheus, his after dreams being acutely vivified
with many curious sensations born of Maggie Glen's potent
whisky, the main picture of which was a full-sized front
view of his angry spouse solemnly reading the moral law
to him, the background being awkwardly filled up with
something remarkably like a badly crushed policeman's hat !
THE BATHING 0' THE STICK LEG.
To gang doon to the saut watter for a week, at least once
in the year, is what the humblest Glasgow working-man
commonly aspires to, and very generally accomplishes. He
views it as a sort of necessity of the family's well-being and
existence, and, in concert with his wife, he usually lays by
something for the occasion, and prepares for its advent
weeks before its actual date.
The preparation for this annual "Fair" holiday-time is
commonly a rather acute experience to the average working-
man, in the wa.y of a grand new hat for the wife, and any
THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEG. 51
amount of new hats, boots, and pinafores for the weans.
As for the guidman himself, he is more easily disposed of.
His forty-year-auld waddin' hat is often brought forth to
the light of day, and specially black-leaded for the im-
portant occasion, and, with that on his head, an auld-
fashioned carpet-bag in his hand, and the wife and weans
by his side, his condition en route for the Broomielaw is not
to be lightly sneezed at.
Now, auld Geordie Shuttle and his worthy spouse, Mattie,
had made up their minds to " gang doon the watter " — a
necessity which was rendered more needful in view of
Geordie's stick leg, which had been fu' o' the rheumatics all
the preceding winter, and which wanted sea-bathing and a
change of air very much ; at least, so Geordie declared, and
Mattie accepted the position of affairs as a rale guid chance
for her an' the weans getting a week at the coast.
It was an awfu' business getting a' thing ready for the
jaunt. A wife o' fourteen stane in wecht, six or eicht weans,
a perambulator, three carpet-bags, and half-a-dizen o' um-
brellas is nae wee joke to get flitted doon to the Broomielaw.
The Shuttle family got there all right, however.
And now that the family were really at the sea-side, it
was no more than was their right, not to say their bounden
duty, to take the fullest advantages of the benefits it offered
to their physical health and well-being.
This mental conviction affected the individual members
of the Shuttle family in different ways.
In the case of the family juveniles it meant, so far as
opportunity would allow of, the search for " wulks," mussels,
and cockles along the exposed fore-shore.
In worthy Mattie's case it very much resolved itself into
a splendid opportunity of showing off her grand new bonnet
— a magnificent article, specially purchased and trimmed for
the occasion.
Relative to Geordie, he wisely seized on the opportunity
52 THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEG.
it offered him of trying the much-vaunted effects of saut
watter bathing for the rheumatics in his ailing stick leg. It
was his one oddly weak point, this careful nursing of his
locomotive appendage. He had worn it so long that he
regarded it as virtually part and parcel of his body
corporate. And thus viewing it, what was more natural
than that he should now and again feel " stoonds " of pain
<raun through it when he incautiouslv set it down on a bit
of broken glass, or that a twinge o' the rheumatics should
fasten on't as often as the cauld east winds blew ?
Next morning found Geordie down at the shore, placidly
sitting on a bit of wave-worn rock, his leg of wood inserted
O * CD
in the cool sea.
Before setting forth on his bathing expedition he had
strongly advised, and indeed insisted on Mattie hersel' gaun'
doun to the shore alang wi' the family, and getting them all
to partake freely of the salt water.
"An' as for yersel', Mattie," he added, "if ye're wice ye'll
drink weel o't as weel's the rest, for there's no' a better
medicine than saut watter, I'm telt. It's an uncommonly
halesome drink, everybody says ; an' if I was you, Mattie, I
wadna spare it, wi' the chance o't for the liftin'."
"No, no; I'll no spare' t, seein' that it's sae cheap. I'll
stick by the saut-watter bottle, Mister Shuttle, an' you'll
stick by the grand wee doctor wi' the stoot body and the
braid bannet — the gill-stoup ! Thank you, Mister Shuttle,
thank you, very kindly ! You're a maist mindfu', considerate,
an' feelin' husband. If my second man's half as guid to me
as ye've aye been, I'll bury him wi' tears in my twa e'en."
"Oh, hang you!" exclaimed the wroth husband, and
crushing his hat down on his head, he set off in a hurry for
the shore.
The spot that Geordie selected for the "lubrifi cation" of his
wooden limb was a good couple of miles west along the shore.
He was alone among the rocks, if we except the limpets
THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEO. 5
o
that stuck to them, and the white-feathered sea-gulls that
flew about the shore.
What a delicious pleasure it was to bathe his stick leg in
the cool salt sea ! It was like rubbin't wi' saft treacle.
For a full half-hour he sat thus, ruminating to himself,
and wondering how his auld cronies in the Calton o' Glesca
were getting on. If they saw him down here, perched on
the rocks, and with his ailing leg of wood plankit in the
sea, what would they say to it, he wondered. Here he
had seclusion, however, and that was a great mercy,
especially to a man who had ways of his own, as he had,
and who was determined to act up to them.
But no ! perfect seclusion was not to be had even here.
For was not yon a human being — a veritable man in a hat —
comino- dodging: along the shore in his direction, stick in
hand, and with a book under his arm ?
It was ; and, anticipatory of his visit, Geordie drew up
his leg of wood, wet from the sea waves, and composedly
awaited his approach.
Nearer and nearer the stranger came, twirling his yellow
cane in the air, and looking generally as if he was happy
with himself and his surroundings, and owned besides a good
half of the land round about.
Geordie glanced inquisitively in his direction, and saw in
that brief glance that the stranger wore a broad-brimmed
Quaker's hat, looked through a pair of very noticeable blue
goggles, and had generally the abstracted air of a man of
deep thought and study.
" Good morning, friend. I give thee grateful salutation,"
remarked the tall, impressive-looking stranger.
"Ay, it's a gran' mornin' — as fresh as mussels," returned
our canny hero.
" Hast thou been taking thy morning bath, friend, as I
have just been doing ? " continued the speaker, twirling a
damp towel in the air.
54 THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEG.
" I hast," learnedly answered Geordie, " to the length o' my
left leg only.''
"Ah ! anything special the matter with the limb ? "
"I'm sair fash't wi' the rheumatics in't," frankly answered
Geordie, with perfect sincerity.
" Indeed ! a bad complaint — a very trying trouble indeed.
Have you tried anything special for its cure, may I kindly
ask ? "
" Naething mair special than rowin't carefully up in warm
flannel at nicht an' stovin't wi' the heat o' the fire."
" Won't do, my friend — won't do. You should get a gill
of good old brandy and rub the ailing limb with it night
and morning."
" I wad much prefer to tak' it inwardly an' syne blaw my
breath on't, if it cam' to the same thing in the end."
" Ha, ha, ha ! now, now, friend ! now, now ! "
" But, waur than that," added Geordie, with sincere feel-
ing, " I met wi' an accident yae nicht aboot three months
since — or rather, my left leg did."
" Oh, I'm truly sorry for that, friend."
"An' so am I — deeply and painfully sorry," chimed in
Geordie, with a bit quiet laugh.
"And pray, friend, how did it happen ? "
" Ye see, I was comin' hame frae Maggie Glen's public-
hoose yae nicht, up bye in the auld Calton o' Glesca, ye ken,
wi' a wee drap in the corner o' my left e'e — no' very much,
ye ken ; only aboot fowrpence worth, aff and on "
" Fourpence worth ! Yes, proceed."
" Weel, I wasna mair nor ten yairds frae my ain door-
cheek when I put my lit doun on a bit orange skin, or some-
thing like it, an' doun I cam' wi' my left leg aneath me, gien't
an ugly thraw. I thocht sma' on't at the moment, but next
inornin' it pained me much. It was swall't badly, an' was
a' oot in a red rash."
" Inflammation." thrust in the stranger. " It should
THE BATHING O' THE STICK LEG. 55
have been leeched at once, to draw away the inflamed
blood."
" Bluid, did ye say ? " questioned Geordie. " Weel, I
never gaed the length o' threepin' there was bluid in't, but
I've worn't sae lang noo that I'll mainteen there's distinct
feelin' in't, deny't wha likes."
" What ! no blood in a man's leg ? " put in the stranger,
very pompously ; " why, there's not a limb of the human
body secretes more blood than do the legs."
" But stop ! stop ! let me explain," thrust in Geordie, who
now saw that the stranger was totally unaware of his stick
leg ; " let me explain."
" One moment, friend," blandly interposed the stranger.
" Kindly let me first explain. You see, I know a little, just
a little, of the practical pathology of the case. Observe, a
man falls with his rifjht leg: under him "
" But it's my left leg that's the bother," thrust in Geordie.
" Exactly," acquiesced the bland stranger. " A man falls,
I now say, with his left leg under him "
" Ye're pu'in' the richt cork noo."
"He rises slightly lame," continued the stranger, "and
hobbles off, thinking little, perhaps, of the accident. Next
morning the limb is swollen, and great pain ensues. And
why ? Why, because the sinews have been unduly strained,
the blood is arrested in its flow, the "
" Ye will hae bluid in't, I see, richt or wrang," murmured
Geordie, half aloud.
" The blood is arrested in its flow, I was remarking •
swelling sets rapidly in as a natural consequence of the
checked circulation, and pain, hot and incessant, is the
certain result. Logical deduction : apply leeches to draw
away the coagulated blood, and hot fomentations to ease
the pain and lay the swelling — and there you are ! "
"Quite so, sir; quite so. Looks a' very fine in theory, I
admit ; but I canna for the life o' me see hoo a' this learned
5G WHEN IS' A MAN FOU '<
rigmarole aboot strained sinews, checked circulation, and
coagulated bluid fits in wi' the reed o' the widd ? " replied
Geordie, holding up his stick leg for the first time within
six inches of the stranger's astonished eyes and nose.
The reed of the wood ! Was it possible ?
The stranger fell back about three feet in dire dismay,
exclaiming —
" Great St. Mungo ! have I actually been all the time con-
sidering the pathology of a wooden leg ? "
" That's so," acceded Geordie, tossing up his game leg in
mid-air once more, to the imminent danger of the stranger's
blue goggles. "There it is — a teuch auld bit o' weel-
seasoned widd. I'll tak' my affy-davy there's feelin' in't
— rale, genuine human feelin' ; but as for bluid, pathology
here or pathology there, there's no' a single drap o' bluid
in't frae end to end. It whites easily to the knife, like the
heft o' a schule-laddie's whup. But cheese the bluid ! there's
no' a single drap in't."
The stranger was, if possible, still more flabbergasted than
before.
" Good-bye, friend," he quickly said, turning on his heels ;
"there are lunatics abroad, I fear."
" Ditto wi' dots ! " Geordie cried after him ; " I jist pairted
wi' yin wearin' blue specks this very moment. Guid-bye ! "
WHEN IS A MAN FOU?
" An' hoo dae ye feel yersel' this mornin', Tammas ? " was
Peggy Wilson's somewhat satirical salutation to her husband
one mornin' lately, as she placed his bowl of porridge on the
table before him ; " no very weel, I'll warrant ye."
" I feel sae awfu' bad owre the wee tait I had last nicht
that I'm jist tryin' to realize what it wad be to be actually
fou," Tammas made answer.
WHEN IS A MAN FOU ? 57
" An' was ye no really f ou last nicht, think ye, Mister
Tammas ? "
" No, I was not, Mistress Wilson ; nae mair than you are
this minute."
" Weel, that bates a' ! " explained Peggy, with manifest
surprise. " A man that coodna, for the life o' him, keep his
twa feet thegither, an' was seein' nae less than six different
ways at yince, to say he wasna drunk ! It fair bates a' ! "
" That'll dae, Peggy : no anither word, if you please.
We'll drap the domestic anchor there, an' lie each to our ain
moorings, as the foreign sailors frae Dumbarton say."
Having thus summarily disposed of his wife, Tammas
thought he would next try to finally dispose of the
question at issue by asking in succession every chance
acquaintance he met that day — " When is a man
drunk?"
" Now, the first man he chanced to meet that day was
Johnny Rhymer, the drapers' poet. Johnny was a wasted
genius who had set out on the ocean of literature with his
eye on the laureateship, but had early got firmly moored to
the whisky barrel, and had never got beyond it. Johnny
got a living by writing poetical advertisements for the city
drapers, spent his days in the public house, and his nights in
the model lodging-houses of the town, and being a man of
a very warm imagination, he was fairly happy in the con-
templation of his lot.
" Now," thought Tammas to himself, " here comes Johnny
Rhymer, the poet, he shood be able to answer the question
satisfactorily, if ony man shood."
The next moment the two friends were confronting each
other.
" Guid mornin', Johnny. I've a question to put to ye, an'
I think ye're as able as ony man to settle the point."
" If ye wad kindly pit the pint inside a pewter stowp,
whatever it may turn oot to be, I'd settle it wi' the greatest
T. s.
58 WHEN IS A MAN FOU ?
pleasure," said the poet, smacking his parched lips very
suggestively.
" By an' bye, Johnny. But my question is this — When is
a man really drunk ? "
" Well," replied the poet, " I consider a man unmistakably
drunk —
When hiccups interrupt his broken talk,
And the domestic plank he cannot walk :
An exalted mental condition, by the way, to which I am
seldom permitted to transport myself — more's the pity ! —
for, like all true poets, I am poor, very poor, and have to
keep up the divine steam on random drinks of sma' beer
and copious libations of treacle swats.
Such is the modern poet's fate, alas !
Such his most cruel and pathetic luck :
He asks for bread, perhaps also a " glass,"
And at his gentle head a murderous brick they chuck !
The next man that Tammas met that day was auld Kab
Morrison, the blacksmith, so, without any ado, Tammas put
the question to him direct, " W T hen is a man drunk ? "
" It's an involved question," answered the blacksmith,
" an' has depths in't like the Atlantic that nae ordinary lead
can fathom. Some wad hae't that a man's drunk when he
canna rise an' walk hame ; ithers say a chiel's fair fou when
he canna successfully bite his ain thoomb ; some ithers again
baud an' maintain that a man's no' strictly sober when his
tongue '11 no' lie still. But if that's the case, when are the
women folks sober ? (Hear, hear, from Tammas.) It's
generally admitted, however," continued the blacksmith,
" that a man's no strictly sober when he accosts a pump-
well on the roadside, warmly shakes it by the handle, ca's
it his auld frien' an' social brither, an' ends the comedy by
tryin' to licht his pipe at the spout."
Our friend Tammas here admitted that the blacksmith
had scored a decided point.
WHEN IS A MAN FOU ? 59
"But relative to the humour of the dram," continued the
blacksmith, " let me here tell you the funny story of Wee
Johnny Seam, a dram-loving tailor, whose stature was
extremely little, and whose head was twisted round so far
as to lie on his left shoulder, the result of an accident at
birth. Johnny was a confirmed tippler, going as far on
every social occasion as his own pocket or a cronie's
generosity would allow of. He had been drinking one
night in a small tavern in the Trongate, and on rising to
take the road home he found himself prettily mixed
about the upper storey. The experience, however, was in
no sense a new one to the wee tippling tailor, who steadied
himself on his two feet most heroically, and refusing help,
and even well-timed advice, took the road home like a
soldier. Whatever was in the dram that night, it seemed
to act soporifically on the wee tailor's senses, for on reaching
the middle of the auld Stockwell Brig Johnny sat down
with his back leaning against the stone parapet, and fell
fast asleep. Presently a couple of wayfarers passed by,
and seeing the wee body sitting on the cauld stanes, a'
thrawn and doobled up like a bit o' broken stick, the yin
said to the ither —
" A sair fa' this wee chap's gotten ; his neck's fair set, I
fear ; let's lift him."
This they tried to do, and having sat him bolt upright,
they then tried to twist round his thrawn head straight.
"Stop! stop!" shouted the wee tailor, waking sudden ly
up; " wad ye thraw my neck like a hen's, ye murderous
rascals ?"
" Steady a moment, my wee mannie ! steady ! " said yin
o' the twa operators, and — crack ! roond once more they
wrenched the wee tailor's thrawn heid, who, now thoroughly
awakened to a true senseof the situation,again yelled aloud —
" Stop, lads, stop ! leave my heid alane ; it sits aye that
ivay ! it sits aye that way ! "
60 WHEN IS A MAN FOU ?
" Man," said our frien' Tammas, with a laugh on his honest
face as broad as the Clyde at Dumbarton, " I can tell ye as
guid a yin as that aboot Weaver Wull, o' Parkhead. Wull,
ye maun ken, had an awfu' love for the dram, an' greed wi't
like his mither's milk. Now Wull, as was too often the case,
happened to get fearfu' fou one night in the Auld Nightin-
gale Tavern, at the heid o' the Gleska Sautmarket. In
forging his way home east to Parkhead, Wull felt so for-
fochten, and so completely dead tired, that he sat down on
the road in a quate corner, and, leaning his back against a
dyke, was soon fast asleep. Some young Camlachie blades,
seeing Wull snoring soond asleep, quickly resolved to tak' a
rise oot o' him, so they gently carried him to a dark under-
ground cellar in the neighbourhood. Getting some phos-
phorus frae a druggist's apprentice, they rubbed it freely
on their own and on Wull's hands and face, and then rudely
wakened him up. Wull, seeing the diabolic state he was in,
inquired fearfully —
" Whaur am I ? "
" Ye're deid," said one of the jokers in a solemn voice.
" Good Lord ! hoo long hiv I been deid ! "
" A fortnicht," was the ready answer.
" An' are ye deid, too ? " anxiously inquired Wull.
" That's so," again came the ready rep)v.
" An' hoo lang hiv you been deid ? "
" Three months."
" Then," said Wull, quickly recovering his worldly ap-
petite, " ye'll be much better acquaint hereaboot than I am ;
hae, there's a shillin' ; awa' oot an' see if ye can bring us in
half-a-mutchkin, for I'm spittin' white sixpences, an' my
heid's gaun roon' as fast's a coach wheel rinnin' to a hog-
manay marriage.
" Very good," laughed the blacksmith with the rest, " but
for a still funnier mixing o' the mental mortar, take this
story of two social imbibers : — A pair of worthy Glasgow
WHEN IS A MAN FOU ? 61
bailies, rather fond of their toddy, retired from their regular
house of call to a quiet spot in Glasgow Greeu one fine
evening, where they sat down on a bench to enjoy their
favourite beverage alone, having previously supplied their
coat pockets with a sufficient quantity of liquor. After
imbibing pretty freely, they both fell asleep where they sat.
The niirht was dark and starless, and about midnight-one of
the sleepers rose off the seat with the laudable intention
of properly retiring to rest. Not knowing his whereabouts,
he wandered blankly about the Green for a while, groping in
the dark for the side of the room, that he might thereby feel
his way to the door. Failing of his purpose, he ultimately
stumbled over his still sleeping companion, whom he rudely
awoke, remarking; —
" Surely, Bailie, this is an awfu' big room, for, hang me, if
I can find the door, though I've been graipin' for't for the
last half hour."
" I ken naething aboot the size o' the room," hiccuped his
brither-cronie, " but } 7 ae thing's certain (looking up to the
sky), it has a most tremendous heich ceilin."
" Then the point o' the discussion comes to what ? " asked
our amused and slightly confused friend, Tammas.
" To this," answered the sensible blacksmith, " that a man's
never strictly sober when he's bej^ond the domestic teacup,
an' that he's fair drunk-fou when he canna fin' the keyhole
o' his ain door, hings up his buits on twa separate hat-pegs,
throws his hat on the floor, puts his clothes to bed instead
o' himsel', an' finally throws himsel' doon on the fender till
next mornin'. Under such conditions, there can be little
rational doubt that a man's gey an wpel od, as the say in' is, if
no completely fou."
Our friend Tammas admitted the point, and so ended the
amusing discussion — " When is a man fou ? "
62 washin' jean's comic marriage.
WASHIN' JEAN'S COMIC MARRIAGE.
There is humour and farce in almost all ranks and conditions
of life ; but, somehow, the broad-featured mask of Fun seems
to fit the homelier phases of life better and more naturally
than it does the higher grades of society. There is, perhaps,
too much formalism and red tape in the upper crust of the
social loaf to allow of the free play of native humour and
character, qualities which, like so many shifting side-lights,
are continually breaking through the darkness and poverty
of lowly life. The following amusing story of a courtship
and marriage in homely life is a case in point : —
Washin' Jean, as she was familiarly called, was a stout-
bodied, hard-visaged, middle-aged nymph of the sop-and-
suds profession, that is to say, she was a common work-a-day
washer-wife of the hard-wrought, splashin', two shillings-a-
day type.
Now, Jean, although only a common washer-wife, was
still a woman, and being unmarried, she had still an e'e on
the men, and some natural interest in their disposal.
The fact is, although Jean was only a washer-wife, and
forty-five years of age, she had a bit of natural romance
hidden away under her cotton short-gown which the neigh-
bours round about her hardly suspected.
In secret she sighed and wearied for a bit man, if for
naething better than jist to keep her fire-en' warm and
furnished-like, and to mak' her mair like her married
neighbours roon' aboot. She was often good-humouredly
teased on the subject, and didn't particularly relish the
banter, which caused her often to sing to herself the
following auld maid's ditty: —
Wae's me ! for I'm noo forty-five,
Tho' some even mair wad me ca' ;
washin' jean's comic marriage. 63
And yin that's sae lang getting married
Has little or nae chance ava.
An' when I reflect upon this,
Lang sighs frae my bosom I draw ;
For oh ! it's most awfu' to think
I'm no to be married ava.
Oh, I wish I could get a bit husband,
Altho' he were never sae sma' ;
Be he little or muckle, I'd tak' him —
Big or wee ia nae maitter ava'.
Come sutor, come tailor, come tinkler !
Oh ! come an' but tak' me awa' !
Jist gi'e me a bid ne'er sae little,
I'll tak' it an' never sae na !
Come deaf, or come dumb, or come cripple,
Wi' yae leg or nae leg ava',
Or come yin wi' yae e'e or nae e'e,
I'll tak' him as ready's wi' twa.
Come young, or come auld, or come doited —
Oh ! come ony yin o' ye a' !
Faur better be married to something
Than no to be married ava' !
But everything comes to those who patiently wait, it is
said, and Washin' Jean at last got her chance matrimonial,
and — took it.
There was an old dram-drinking Waterloo pensioner who
lived in the next court, named Dick Macpherson, and who
was better known in the neighbourhood as Corporal Dick.
Dick had served his king and country well in his day and
generation as a gallant corporal in the 91st Argyleshire
Highland Light Infantry, and, on the expiry of his long-
service term, he had been duly pensioned off and relegated
to the corps of city pensioners, once familiarly known in
Glasgow as the " Auld Fuggies."
Now, like the majority of old military pensioners, Corporal
Dick dearly loved a dram, and invariably went heartily for
it every quarterly pension-day.
64 washin' jean's comic marriage.
In what way Corporal Dick had got round Washin' Jean,
or she, perhaps, had got round him, it is not needful to tell.
Suffice it to say, the pair came together as lovers, in some
odd way, and as Jean could work for her living, and Corporal
Dick enjoyed a quarterly pension from the Government of
his country, they respectively seemed a catch in each other's
eyes, and so fell to the courting of each other, like two old
road-side linties.
" If I only had her," thought Corporal Dick to himself,
" I could live off her earnings at the wash-tub, an' drink my
pension-money every quarterly pay-day like a lord. She's
well worth the catchin'."
And — " If I only had him," thought Washin' Jean to her-
self, " I could throw up my wearifu' washin' boin, an' live
aff the auld general's pension-money. He's weel worth the
catchin'."
Beino- thus both of a mind regarding the value of each
CD CD CD
other, their courtship was very short, and the upshot of it
was correspondingly practical and to the point.
Whether or not the old war-dog ever formally proposed
marriage to Washin' Jean is uncertain. If so, the text of
CD
the proposal has not reached us. If it was indeed so, the
gallant old foggy no doubt announced the proposal in the
manner of a regular hand-at-cap military salute.
Anyhow the question seems to have been duly popped
and sufficiently understood, in whatever way expressed, and
that so expeditiously, too, as to put the marriage of the
mature pair under actual arrangement prior to the arrival
of the very next quarterly pension-day.
Everything seemed to have gone thus far in terms of the
old proverb, as merry as a marriage-bell, when a small cloud
of disagreement suddenly discovered itself in the rosy sky
of their graphic love affair, thus once more realizing the
ancient truism— the course of true love never did run
smooth.
WASHIN' JEAN'S COMIC MARHIAGE. G5
The bone of contention between the pair was at once
trifling- and serious, in the sense that, concerning a very
slight affair, a stiff bit of temper was exhibited on both
sides, which in the end all but cracked up the consummation
of the forthcoming marriage.
The dispute was about Corporal Dick's marriage suit.
For Dick, with the strong martial instincts of an old
soldier, wanted to sincerely honour his Queen, his country,
and himself by getting married in his semi-military pen-
sioner's suit. He wanted also to wear side-arms, and would
have even brought his old Waterloo musket along with him
to the minister's as well, if he had been permitted to have his
own way.
His prospective better-half, however, knocked the mad
proposition completely on the head, and the old soldier
unwillingly surrendered both musket and side-arms to
mollify her displeasure, but stood firmly up for being
married, like a true soldier, in his old military dress.
Jean was thus in a fix. The old Waterloo hero was deter-
mined on the point, she saw, and to have the match broken
off would be to once more expose herself to the by no means
complimentary clash of the neighbours. Still, to give in to
Corporal Dick in this initial matter, small as it appeared,
was to sell herself into prospective bondage and slavery. At
least so Jean hastily reasoned within her own mind. She
wouldn't consent to this degradation, she finally concluded ;
no, she wouldn't ! The stumbling-block was that the hardy
old veteran wouldn't agree to the marriage on any other
terras.
"I'll surrender ray musket and side-arms for love's sweet
sake," he firmly told her over and over again, " but my
military dress — never! Rule Britannia, say I, and God save
the Queen ! "
What was to be done ?
Jean was a woman of some resource. She thought the
o
06 washin' jean's comic marriage.
position thoroughly out in all its phases, and ultimately
came to a decided resolution on the matter, a smile of
malicious sarcasm irradiating her rather dun countenance
at the amusing thought of it. What that resolution was
she wisely kept to herself, but proceeded at once to act
upon it and bring it on to a successful issue.
" Jean," said the old pensioner to her one day, as an
ultimatum, "is the marriage fixed or off"?
This suspense interferes with my digestion.
To be or not to be, that is the question?
Marry me in my soldier's suit, or not at all. What sayest
thou ? "
" Oh, hae't yer ain stiff way, Corporal Dick, an' there's the
end o't. But if ye're to be marrit in yer sodjer's claes, I'll
come in my printed short-goon."
"All right, I'm willing," said the old soldier, and then
he gallantly kissed his betrothed on the left cheek with
a smack like the report of a percussion cap, and called her
his brave soldier lassie.
And thus the affair was, so far, amicably settled, and
things looked all serene for the gallant old soldier.
Now, there lived and laboured in the East-end of Glas-
gow at that time a certain witty and worthy old-fashioned
Cameronian preacher of the very plain and practical school,
called the Rev. David Gregg.
Now, the Rev. David Gregg was both wise and witty in
his way, and was sometimes original to a point in his inter-
pretation of the knotty bits of Scripture. His stipend was
small, but he substantially added to it by hiring himself
out for the consummation of marriages in humble life. In
this way, when the marrying season was on, he used to go
out of an evening and tie the knots in regular rotation,
much after the fashion of a medical man making his calls
on the sick.
Accordingly, the Rev. David Gregg was very naturally
WASHIN' JEAN'S COMIC MAItRIAGE. G7
fixed on by Washin' Jean for the performance of the mar-
riage ceremony.
The business was a very quiet affair. Jean, with strange
taste, had insisted on being " married in her short-goon," so
as to be upsides with Corporal Dick in his sodger's claes, as
she said. But over and above that she had an arrow of
sarcasm hidden in her bow which the gallant old Waterloo
man suspected not.
Everything being ready and the minister on the ground,
the reverend gentleman said, addressing the old pen-
sioner —
" Will you take this woman to be your wife ? "
" Yes, I will," gallantly answered Corporal Dick, standing
all the while at strict " attention."
" And will you have this man for your husband ? " he
next asked Washin' Jean.
" No, I will not ! " replied Jean, with quick emphasis.
" And why not ? " asked the astonished minister.
" I have tooken a scunner at him ! " replied the washer-
wife, with a contemptuous cast of her head.
Poor Corporal Dick, including the minister, and the
half-dozen witnessing friends, were astounded, shocked,
flabbergasted.
The minister, however, was quite equal to the occasion.
Without a word of comment, he claimed his fee, picked up
his hat and hurriedly left the house.
The old soldier was sadly taken down over the business.
He expostulated with his stout bride to little apparent pur-
pose. At last she said —
" Only if ye tak' aff yer ridiculous sodger's claes will I
consent to be yours."
" Then thou art already mine ! " Corporal Dick joyfully
exclaimed, rubbing his hands gleefully together. " Off
comes the military suit ! "
That same night the minister was again requisitioned to
C8 washin' jean's comic marriage.
come back and tie the knot, and, true to his agreement, he
once more turned up.
This time, to make things sure, the reverend gentleman
applied himself to the woman first.
" Are you willing to have this man for your husband ? "
he solemnly asked.
" Yes, I am," distinctly answered Washin' Jean this time,
smiling gleefully at the thought of her late triumph.
" And are you willing to take this woman for your wife ? "
once more asked the minister, glad to have got successfully
over the initial difficulty.
" No, I am not," boldly replied the old soldier.
"And why, sir?" again asked the minister.
" I have taken a scunner at her ! " answered Corporal
L»ick, with an erect head.
On went the Rev. David Gregg's clerical hat once more,
and pocketing his fee for the second time, he set off from
the house as hurriedly as before.
Washin' Jean, who had thus been paid back with a smart
Roland-for-an-Oliver, was furious, and all but drove the
tricky old pensioner out of her house with the kitchen poker.
The comic affair got wind in the neighbourhood, and was
much and merrily laughed over.
. Time heals the deepest wounds, however, and scarce three
days had elapsed when the graphic old pair had kissed and
'greed again, like all true lovers worthy of the name.
The minister was once more interviewed, and was at
length induced to attend at the house on the succeeding
evening, so as to have the delayed marriage-knot firmly and
finally tied.
And at this point the humour of the funny incident
becomes intensified.
All was once more ready, and the happy pair were all but
made one, when the minister once more began with the
usual questions, addressed first to the man.
DOON THE WAITER IN THE AULDEN TIMES. GO
" Are you now willing to take this woman for your wife ? "
"Yes, I certainly am," firmly replied the gallant old
Waterloo man, standing at the military salute.
" And are you willing to have this man for your hus-
band ? " he asked at Washin' Jean.
" Yes, I am," distinctly answered the stout washer wife,
with a delicious curtsey, specially rehearsed for the interest-
ing occasion.
" Then I refuse to marry you ! " firmly put in the witty
old clergyman.
" Why ? " cried the pair in chorus.
" Because I have taken a wholesome scunner at both of
you ! " he quickly answered, and, snatching up his shovel hat,
he clapped it on his head and hurried off, with a smile on
his reverend face as broad as the Clyde at Dumbarton.
The trio were thus satisfactorily avenged all round, each
having paid off the other with a similar Prolan d-for-an-Oliver
cut. Matters thus squared.it seemed but the just dues of
everybody interested in the issue to see the perplexing-
matter satisfactorily adjusted all round, and the comic pair
amicably settled in life.
Suffice to say, that before next quarterly pension-day,
Washin' Jean and the gallant Corporal Dick were happily
made one flesh, and lived to " fa' oot an' 'gree again," like
ither happily-married couples, for long and many a day
thereafter.
DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
It was in the year 1812 that Henry Bell's puffing little
steamboat, the Comet, first annihilated time and distance by
accomplishing the voyage to Helensburgh in six hours !
Previous to that date the fly-boats ran to Greenock only,
reaching that port in ten hours, whence passengers could be
70 DOON THE WATTEK IN THE AULBEN TIMES.
" sailed " to ports further down the coast. The packet boats
with goods could, with favourable winds, reach Rothesay,
in the Isle of Bute, in about three days ; but when adverse
winds blew, it sometimes took as many weeks.
For these reasons, "Glesca folks" seldom went farther
"doon the watter" in those slow-moving, old-fashioned
days than Gourock or Helensburgh, and it was to Helens-
burgh that David Dinwiddie, an auld Gorbals worthy, and
his managing spouse, Mattie, accordingly went on the
occasion under notice, by the then elegant and commodious
new steamship Comet !
The projected " saut watter " jaunt had been long in con-
templation, the immediate cause thereof being the condition
of Mattie's stomach, which was past mending by medicine, and
was much in need of the strong sea-air to renew its lost tone.
At least that's what Mattie told her husband, and most
stoutly maintained, too, though there wasn't wanting those
who declared, behind back, of course, that it was all a trick
of Mattie's, and that she had invented the doctor's recom-
mendation of a jaunt to the coast, so that she might in that
way accomplish a long-cherished desire of hers to get " doon
the watter" for a week, and so be upsides with some of her
upsettin' neighbours who had enjoyed that proud gratifica-
tion on several occasions, and had made very much of it in
the district, having done everything for its publication short
of sending round the town bellman with it. However, in
whatever way it was brought about — whether by the
domestic generalship of Mattie, or by the spoken advice of
the doctor — a week's visit to the "saut watter" was duly
fixed on and arranged for, the spot selected being Helens-
burgh and the means of transit the then wonderful little
steamboat named the Comet.
It was a fearful business for worthy auld David Dinwiddie,
the getting the length of the steamboat at the auld
Broomielaw.
DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES. 71
The three weeks' active and exciting preparation he had
gone through up till the eventful date of sailing was nothing
compared to the getting along to the Broomielaw with his
large small family.
There were no tram-cars in those slow old days. Even omni-
buses, now all but superseded, had not then been thought of.
As for cabs, they were few in number, and were the exclusive
luxury of the gentry. Even supposing a cab had been
come-at-able, it would have been very heavily taxed to
accommodate David Dinwiddie's family and effects on that
"great and eventuous occasion," as Davie grandiloquently
phrased it.
" I say, Mattie," Davie remarked to his wife on that
eventful morning, " are ye gaun to flit the haill hoose doon
the watter ? "
" Div I look like it, Mister Dinwiddie, d'ye think ! " was
Mattie's somewhat tart rejoinder.
" Wonderfu' like it, Mattie. I'm already up to the neck
in furniture, no' to speak o' the six or eicht weans still to
lift; an' I think ye've packit up everything in the hoose —
except, maybe, the cat, an' the eicht-day clock."
" Dinna bother me wi' yer aff-takin' remarks, if you
please," saucily retorted Mattie ; " but pit three or fowr o'
the family in the coach an' set aff for the boat at yince, if ye
mean to catch it."
The " coach " alluded to was an oblong-shaped box, placed
on four low-set iron wheels, and drawn by a long, thin,
round iron handle, with a cross-piece at the end to pull by.
It had been made to special order by a local joiner who
happened to be out of a regular job at the time. It was
green-painted over all, and looked a thoroughly successful
and blooming article — a sort of rude-shaped antediluvian
perambulator, pulled by a long rod, and born considerably
before its time.
Davie, to make matters go as smooth as possible under
7- DOON THE WATTE II IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
the extraordinary circumstances, began packing the weans
into the coach as neatly as he could, in which he so far
succeeded that he was ultimately able to stow away not less
than four of them inside of it, with a lot of luggage besides.
" Noo, Mistress Dinwiddie, I'm a' ready for the road,"
Davie at length ventured to remark.
" Weel, tak' it, then," replied Mattie.
" No' till I see that wonderfu' new bannet o' yours success-
fully set on yer heid, Mattie. Ye've been sweatin' owre't at
the gless there for this last half-hour, an' hang me if ye seem
to be able to distinguish the back frae the front o't for
feathers. Ye look for a' the world as if ye had jist this
moment stepped oot o' a chapter o' auld history."
When our comic-minded hero ventured on this sar-
castic cut, he was holding the handle of the weans' coach in
his hand, ready for the road.
It was, perhaps, as well.
Mattie, stung to the quick by the unkind cut, made a
quick movement in his direction. In an instant, however,
Davie had disappeared, leaving his spouse, like the last rose
of summer, " blooming alone," unless, indeed, her new bonnet
be taken in to account, which was a large and very im-
portant blooming fact in addition.
" Here, Mister Dinwiddie," she cried after him, coming
quickly to the outer door, " tak' that alang wi' ye tae (fling-
ing a bundle of tied-up umbrellas after him), an' that (a
bandbox with Davie's auld lum hat inside), an' that (a parcel
of worsted, and stocking knittings), an' that, an' that, an'
that!" which latter parcels included, according to Davie's
idea, every blessed thing inside the house, except, perhaps,
the family Bible. What harm the auld family Bible had
done that it should be left at home honest Davie was quite
unable to discover.
Bewildered to his fair wits' end, Davie surveyed the
domestic wreckage lying around him, and began stowing
DOUN THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES. 73
them away as best he could, putting some in the weans'
coach, some in his already well-stuffed pockets, and hanging
others over his two arms and round his neck.
At last he picked up the bandbox containing his auld lum
hat — the very hat he had been married in many years before.
" Great Abraham ! " he said to himself, " surely to good-
ness the mad woman disna intend me to wear my auld lum
hat at the coast ? The wee laddies wad pap stanes at me."
Then, going back to the door, he pushed it up, and thrust-
ing his head half-a-yard inside, he said —
" Mistress Dinwiddie ! "
" Weel, what's wrang noo ? "
" Div ye ackwally intend me to wear my auld lum hat
doun the watter ? "
'•' An' what for no', Mister Dinwiddie?" rejoined Mattie,
with a snap.
" Go you to Dumbarton ! " retorted Geordie. " Here, see,
there it's back to ye in the lump ! " flinging the bandbox at
her feet. " If ye will tak' it to the coast, wear it yersel'.
It'll suit ye fully better than that fancy cockatoo o' a thing
ye've been fechtin' wi' at the lookin'-gless for this last
stricken hour."
Having thus successfully expirated his last parting shot,
our canny hero returned to his extensive family charge, and
proceeded at once to take the road by hauling after him the
well-packed family coach.
Reaching the street, a group of wee laddies " hurrahed "
Davie and his picturesque equipage as he passed by, as a
sort of compliment, presumably, to the surpassing variety
and extent of his domestic turn-out.
" Faith, an' ye may weel hurrah, laddies," said Davie half
aloud ; " the like o' this has never happened in history afore,
an' never will again, I'm certain. It's a fine thing to be a
married man — a most delightful, beautiful, captivating thing,
as the wee tailor remarked when the frying-pan gently
t. s. 6
74 DOUN THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
collided with the back o' his heid — a fine thing for the
circulation o' the bluid, an' the clearin' o' the e'esicht. The
man that canna see a lump farrer after marriage than before
it, is past the help o' the best pebble specks, by a geyan
lanGf chalk mark."
Looking behind him now and again, Davie descried his
worthy spouse toiling bard after, with the remainder of the
family by her side, her new hat blooming on her head, and
any amount of parcels in hercarms.
" Faith," thought Davie to himself, " when the domestic
barometer is fa'en doun, ' distance lends enchantment to the
view,' as yin o' Scotland's poetical chiels has remarked. I'll
push briskly forrit tho', an' get to the Broomielaw first.
Yince on board the boat, there'll be nae spare room for
argiement, or, at the warst, I can gang doun below to the
steward's room an' study the machinery."
Thus resolved, our homely hero dug the point of his boots
firmer into the ground and hadled splendidly ahead of his
spouse, unmindful of the many curious glances and side
laughs which his odd appearance created amongst the
passers-by.
Arriving at the Broomielaw, he had just time to adjust
his " specks " and read the Comet advertisement before his
spouse arrived on the scene.
The following is an exact copy of the original advertise-
ment : —
STEAM PASSAGE BOAT,
THE COMET.
Between Glasgow, Greenock, and Helensburgh.
For passengers only.
THE Subscriber having, at much expense, fitted up a handsome
vessel to ply upon the River Clyde between Glasgow and
Greenock, to sail by power of wind, air, and steam, he intends that
the vessel shall leave the Broomielaw on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and
Saturdays, about mid-day, or such hour thereafter as may answer from
DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
the state of the tide, and to leave Greenock on Mondays, Wednesdays,
and Fridays, in the morning, to suit the tide.
The elegance, comfort, safety, and speed of this vessel require only to be
proved to meet the approbation of the public ; and the proprietor is
determined to do everything in his power to merit public encouragement.
The terms at present are fixed at — Four shillings for the best cabin ;
three shillings for the second.
Beyond these rates, nothing is to be allowed to servants, or to any
other person employed about the vessel. Henry Bell.
August 5th, 1812.
Davie had just replaced his "specks" when the reproving
voice of Mattie once more took his ears.
" A fine man you are ! — a nice, lovin', considerate hus-
band, atweel ! To hurry awa' an' leave yer puir wife to
trauchle alang the crooded streets for this length as best she
could ! That I wasna run owre, or robbit on the road alang
here, or openly murdered, is nae credit o' yours."
" An' what aboot me, Mattie ? It strikes me wi 'the force
o' a flung tattie that I was sailin' in the same boat wi' ye a'
alang the road, eh ? Talk aboot the cares o' an Empire !
What think ye o' a man ha'ein' to tackle a family ' coach '
wi' fowr weans packit closely in't, three tied-up umbrellas,
aboot six-an'-twenty bundles o' a' things in his twa airms ;
an', to croon a', a basket o' bread on his heid ! Order a
special medal to be struck at yince for me, Mattie, if there's
a grain o' humanity resident in yer bosom."
Concluding this spirited blow-out, Davie did not await
a reply, but hurried aboard the Comet, dragging after him
his heavy and very responsible family charge, Mattie and
the rest of the family bringing up the rear.
In a few minutes thereafter the novel and wonderful
little steam- vessel cast off in very impressive deep-sea style,
forging its way through the then salmon-haunted, clear, and
pellucid stream of Clyde, at the surprising speed of six miles
an hour !
Slow as was the Comet's progress, however, they were out
76 DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
of the harbour and all its associations and belongings in a
few minutes. For the harbour was then but a very small
concern, and there were no stoppages between ports in those
days as now, unless when something went wrong with the
wonderful little clank-clanking engine which was perform-
ing such curious work down below, on which occasions,
these occurrences being frequent, the gallant Highland
captain would shout aloud —
" All hands on deck, an' spread ta foresheet,whateffer; ta
useless steam's off again ! "
To which Dougal M'Taggart, the red-headed mate, would
reply —
" Hi, ay, sir ! Come awa' forrit, Tonalt, an' pring Lauchie,
ta wee laddie, alang wi' ye, too, also, to help to spread ta fore-
sheet ; for tat funny wee f uff, f uffin' engine is brokit doun
wance more. It's no weel this weather, at all. It has
brokit doun twice next week, an' three times more the week
after, as sure as twa an' fowr's five."
And then, for an hour thereafter on such occasions, the
little engines being under brief repair, it was a veritable sea
voyage under stiff helm and flapping canvas.
It was all very novel, and in some instances particularly
exciting to our homely hero, this wonderful sail " doun the
watter." More especially was it so to his worthy spouse,
Mattie, who had never been at sea once in her life before,
although Davie humorously declared she was deeply "at sea"
in Glesca every Monday mornin' to ken what she had made
o' the ither half o' the Saturday pey.
Mattie was all eyes and ears for what was transpiring
around her, despite the family cares and distractions which
surrounded her on board the little steamer, quite as much as
at her ain fireside.
She saw some " won'erfu' sichts," as she termed them on
the voyage down, and got at least twa heart-rending frichts.
When opposite Port-Glasgow, where an extensive sand-
DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
bank still exists on the north side of the river, which is
daily uncovered with the fall of every tide, Mattie descried
a something floating in the water.
" What's yon, Davie ? " she pointedly asked. " Is't a
whale, a porpoise, or a crocodile, think ye ? "
Davie put on his specks and looked in the direction
indicated.
"Tuts, woman!" he sharply made answer, "it's only a
buoy floating in the watter."
" Eh, me ! a boy ? An' ye ca't only a boy ! It's aye some
body's bairn, shairly. For ony sake tell the captain to screw
aff his bizz, turn the han'le o' his helm roun', an' stop an' pick
up the puir bit callant, that's in sair danger o' droonin'."
" Woman, I tell ye, it's only a floating buoy, an's no a boy
ava," Davie retorted, with some warmth.
" Siccan a flat contradiction I never heard a' my born life !
It's a boy, an' it's no' a boy ! It's weel seen, my fine man,
that ye've been doun below drinkin' yer puir wits awa',
little as they are at the best. If it's no' a boy, then," she
sarcastically added, " it's maybe a lassie, though the need o'
a rescue is jist aboot as great the yae way as the ither, I'm
thinkin'."
Our canny-minded hero walked farther forward. The
ordeal was too much for him. It affected him acutely, even
to the length of his veritable stick leg, which on such trying
occasions he was in the habit of vigorously digging into
the ground, or into whatever was directly underneath him
at the moment.
A temporary break-down of the engines, as suggested,
actually occurred, and was an unfortunate affair for our
party, in the sense that it delayed their arrival at
Helensburgh till nearly nightfall, which was no joke
indeed, lodgings being still to look for, and the place
beinof strange to both husband and wife.
Entering the spacious bay of Helensburgh, Mattie got her
78 DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
second " fricht" by a small incident, which in her opinion
brought them all within an inch of a watery grave.
The incident happened in this way : — They were within
half a mile of a sloping stone quay, which then stretched
far out in the shallow water to suit the fall of the tide, and
the lights in the houses and shops on the shore road were
quite visible, it being now dusk.
A double-masted vessel was lying ahead of them a bit,
between them and the quay, and which was burning red
and green lights, in accordance with the newly-issued Board
of Trade regulations.
The sight of the coloured ship's lights was at that early
date in Clyde navigation new and strange to most river
sailors, and was very particularly so to Dougal M'Taggart,
the first mate of the Comet.
Seeing the strange lights burning red and green straight
ahead, he quickly concluded that the Comet was running
ashore, and that the coloured lights ahead were those of
some local apothecary's window. So, with warning voice,
he shouted aloud to the man at the helm —
" Roun' \vi' ta helm, Tonalt, an' haud hard to ta left, or py
ta Lord we'll pe run into a doctor's shop in twa or fowr
moments ! "
" Eh, me ! " loudly sighed Mattie, overhearing the mate's
alarming order, quickly concluding that her last hour had
come; "eh, me! to think that I've ta'en a saut watter
voyage to escape the doctor's, and to be wrecked in a
doctor's shop after a' ! The ekwal o' this never happen' t in
history afore ! "
The helm, however, was hurriedly put round, and the im-
pending collision with the apothecary's window prevented,
much to the satisfaction of Mattie, who lost nearly a stone
in weight with the sudden fright.
It was an awfu' job getting ashore in the dusk, and a
worse job finding adequate lodgings.
DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES. 79
The little sea-side township, indeed, was so ill-lit — there
being nothing to depend on better than a few small shop
windows — that when Mattie at last did fix on lodonncrs she
did so on mere chance more than in any surer and more
satisfactory way.
" Weel," cannily remarked Davie, when the family had
at length got under a thickly-thatched roof of straw, " we've
tookin' lodgin's, it's true; but what's the rale size an' nature
o' them we'll no richt ken till daylicht the morn. They're
wee enough for yae thing, I can weel see ; an' it strikes me
there'll be nae spare room here for either argiement or
dancin'. It's a mercy I didna bring doun my auld lum hat,
as ye stippitly wantit me to dae, Mattie ; for hang me if I
could ha'e got room for't here, unless by hingin't up by a
string frae the rafters, like a winter ham."
" Ah ! but I've e'en brocht it doun alang wi' the rest o'
the things, my fine man," triumphantly exclaimed Mattie,
clapping her hands in joyous excitement, "an' if there's nae
room for't elsewhere ye can hing't on yer heid, whaur it
should an' shall be, if ye're to walk the shore wi' me. A
fine thing if a man's best mairrit hat is to lie up an' waste
in a paper bandbox an' no' be broucht oot on a special
occasion o' this kind ! It's a most respectable-lookin' article
on a workin'-man's heid — a guid, soncy lum hat. Ye should
be prood o' baith it an' me, Mister Dinwiddie ; for I'm no'
by being looked at yet, no' to say admired, though I'm
sayin't that maybe shouldna. An' as for the hat, it has
been carefully looked after, tae, an' was weel brushed an'
blackleaded afore comin' awa' frae Glesca, the which I'll
conscientiously maintain, deny't wha likes."
" A lum hat doun the watter ! " exclaimed Davie
aghast. " Mattie, as sure's ye're there, if ye force that auld
hat on me doon here I'll stap it below the first cairt-wheel
I meet on the road, though I shood hing for't."
To all which Mattie listened, but said never a word in
80 DOON THE WATTER IN THE AULDEN TIMES.
reply, knowing very well that the game was ultimately hers,
and that the ostracised lum would be finally worn, and,
better still, would most certainly be publicly commented on
and admired by both natives and coasters.
Things domestic thus roughly arranged for the night,
nature craved her dues, and the entire Dinwiddie family
having gone to bed, excepting Davie himself, they were all
very soon sleeping the deep and sweet sleep of the just.
Perhaps it would be nearer the actual truth to say that
the Dinwiddie family were snoring the sleep of the just, for
such was most emphatically the case. And such a snoring
match Davie's twa lugs never heard before. The fresh sea
air of the long voyage had given every one of them an
abnormal appetite for sleep, and they were all announc-
ing the fact in happy concert.
" Talk aboot the pleasures o' single life ! " said Davie to
himself, who had remained up to enjoy what he termed a
pellucid smoke, " single life is a' richt enough in its ain
way; but if a man wants genuine variety an' sensation let him
gang in for the mairrit life. It's simply beautiful, exquisite,
delicious, an' heart-inspirin' ! My faith, if the weans a'
sleep like that wi' a waff o' the sea air, I canna even guess
what'll happen when they tak' to the drinkin' o' the saut
watter. There's Mattie ; she's daein' the big bassoon business,
an's snorin' awa' there like a fou horse sodjer. It's aboot
time I was joinin' her, I'm thinkin', an' helpin' oot the
family chorus.
This said, our canny-minded auld friend laid aside his pipe
for the night, and was speedily in bed, where in a very short
time he added a deep trombone accompaniment to the grand
programme of concerted music which was being so vigorously
and so melodiously executed by Mattie and her numerous
brood of family chickens.
TAMMY GIBB'S LAN O HOUSES. 81
TAMMY GIBES LAN' 0' HOUSES.
Wee Tammy Gibb was a sma' grocer, and a still sma'er
man. He was, in fact, sae little in bulk, that his wife
Jenny had to put on her " specks M when lookin' for
him. Tammy, who was gleg enough in the wits, main-
tained that Jenny's e'esicht was failin' her, an' that she
made a handy excuse for the failing by blaming his short
stature. Perhaps Tammy was richt, but he was a peace-
lovin' man, Wee Tammy, and never pressed the subject.
Now Tammy had been all along a very frugal saving
man, and by exercising the most rigid economy in things
like himself, as he whiles humorously observed — that is in
sma' things, he had saved by middle-life several hundred
pounds.
He was further assisted in this money-making habit by
his wife, who was a very ambitious woman, and who was
always scheming and plotting as to what way she could
best get her husband to invest the family savings in a bit
property, so as to make their hundreds thousands, and then,
settle doon, an' live on the interest o' their stane an' lime
investment. It looked so well in theory — Jenny's bit o'
property scheme — that wee Tammy was mair than half
inclined to look after't. An opportunity came about in
good time.
They had a relation in the country who was well-stricken
in years, and who had a little money, and a bit of property
to leave behind him as well.
The old man took ill, on hearing which Jenny Gibb set
off for his house, where she nursed him most assiduously to
the end, in hopes that she might thereby cut out his other
relatives and friends.
" Noo, Jenny," wee Tammy had said to her on the even-
ing she set off for the sick relative's house, " ye'll be kind to
82 TAMMY GIBBS LAN O HOUSES.
auld Davoc, an' wha kens, the bit property he lairds may
coine to oor twa sel's, eh ? "
"That's the caird I'm gaun to try an' play," frankly
admitted the wife; "but wha's to mak' yer parritch when
I'm awa', Tammas ? "
"Oh, I'll jist ca' roon the jiarritch-spurkle mysel'; ye'll
never be missed by me, Jenny."
" What ! this to the wife o' yer bosom, after forty years'
faithfu' attention to yer wants and wakenesses ? Let me
get on my ' specks ' till I get anither look o' ye, ye wee
sinner."
" Pit by yer ' specks ' alang wi' yer temper, on this im-
portant occasion, wife, if ye mean us to own auld Davoc's
bit property ; for his hoose is already fu' o' relatives, I'm
tell't, an' there's no' a day to lose," was Tammy's sensible
reply.
" That's very true, Tammas, as we baith weel ken ; but I'll
argue this point wi' you again, my fine man. Never be
missed, wad I no ? There's a bonnie way to speak o' ony
daicent weel-daein' woman, let alane a forty-year tried and
tested wife ! H'm ! I'll settle this point when I come back."
" Wi' the bit property in yer han', I hope an' trust. Bring-
in' the richts o' that hame wi' ye, I'll forgie ye for a lot,
Jenn}'."
In the course of the next three weeks the old relative
died, and Jenny had managed the matter so well, that she
came home with a legal claim to the property in her hand.
Wee Tammy at once rose about five inches in his shoes on
receipt of the gratifying news, and after performing a series
of queer gymnastics on the floor, he put on the window
"brods" of his little shop an hour earlier that night, filled
his wife half-fou with hot toddy, kissed her owre an' owre
again, as the poet-chaps say, and went to bed that night the
happiest man in Scotland.
When the news of wee Tammy Gibb's windfall went
TAMMY GIBBS LAN' O' HOUSES. S3
round the neighbourhood, his friends and shop customers,
one and all, congratulated himself and his wife on his rare
good fortune. To be sure, there was a bit of a bond on the
property, he frankly admitted, but that was a small matter.
And now in the possession of the rights to the property,
wee Tammy and his wife at once got into a better house,
adopted a finer style of living, and altogether began to very
noticeably hold up their heads in the most approved fashion.
At length, the rent-day came round, and Tammy and his
spouse fairly gloated over the prospect of handling the rent-
money.
They expectantly waited the factor's call. No factor came !
At the end of three weeks, Tammy said to his wife —
" Jenny, I'll write the factor this very nicht for the hoose
rents. There's something surely wrang ? "
" I hope the rascal's no awa' to America wi' oor money "
was Jenny's answer. "He's worth looking after, an' at
yince, too. Get him to mak' oot a statement, an' order him
to send us the money for the past half-year's rent by return
o' post."
Thus instructed, wee Tammy wrote the factor a long
letter in the terms suggested.
A letter came back, very politely written, and containing a
statement, but no money.
The following was the main text of the statement : —
Rental received, £314 lGs. Gd.; interest on bond paid
out, £290; taxes, £11 8s. 4d. ; repairs, £16 16s. 5d. ;
factor's commission, £14 — Balance due to the factor,
£17 8s. 3d.
The letter was most engaging in tone, requesting, in the
most polite terms, that a cheque for the deficient balance be
sent on at Mr. Thomas Gibb's early convenience.
"Hang the man!" cried wee Tammy, when the truth
flashed in on his mind. " There's something wransr wi' his
heid surely. To think a man wad get a bit property left
84 TAMMY GIBB'S LAN' o' HOUSES.
him, an' that at the rent-time he wad ha'e to pay out money
instead o' drawin't in ! It's rank nonsense ! "
As for his wife, she was knocked fair speechless at the
revelation, and was like to take to her bed over it.
In the way of gleaning information and getting opinions,
Tammy took every customer that came about his shop into
direct confidence on the subject, who, one and all, expressed
the utmost astonishment at this new experience of becoming
a house proprietor.
At last, Tammy resolved to gang up and personally see
the house-factor at his office in town.
" Is the factor quite wice ? " was Jenny's first question to
her husband on his return from the factor's office.
" He's as wice for hirnsel' as twa o' us," answered Tammy,
" an' the statement given us is an owre true tale, I find.
But there's a good hope for us yet, he says. If the property
will only 'let' better this year, then, of course, the balance
would be on the right side for us."
This was a sort of forlorn hope, at the worst, if not,
indeed, a perfect balm-in-Gilead consolation to the badly
disappointed pair. And in their despair they seized on and
eagerly clung to it.
The suspense endured by Tammy and his spouse during
the next six months was something they had never suffered
before. It was past a' conception.
At last, the half-yearly rent-time came round, and follow-
ing hard on it came the factor's statement.
Worse and worse ! Thirty pounds of a deficit this
time !
Tammy asked for his razor that he might end himself,
while bis wife fell clean owre her chair in a deid fent !
" What's to be dune, Jenny ? " was the first question
which Tammy put to his wife on her resuscitation. "This
confounded property-ownership is gaun to prove a sair bit
in oor sides, I fear."
TAMMY GIBB'S LAN' O' HOUSES. 85
" Sell it, Tammas ! sell it, afore we're robbit o' oor a', an'
are roupit to the vera door."
All right. This did seem a practical and speedy way out
of the difficulty.
Next week found the property advertised, in which it was
offered as a cheap and most eligible investment.
Disappointment followed even here. Not a single buyer
turned up at any price ! Tammy was badly cut.
The advertisement was not without an effect, however.
At the end of the month Tammy was served with an
account for advertising, to the tune of £12 7s. 6d.
Tammy that day repeated his queer gymnastics on the
shop floor, to his own temporary relief, and to the lasting
amusement of his neighbours.
Worse than even this, Tammy next week got formal
notice from the town authorities about a new road being
required along one side of his tenement. He had to pay
one half, and the road landlord the other half.
Other forty pounds flung away ! Tammy got fair
mad.
" Talk aboot getting grey heided wi' care," he said to his
customers a hundred times a day, " Lord a mercy ! if this
wark goes on muckle langer, there'll no be a single hair left
on my heid o' either yae colour or anither. It's past a'
Christian endurance ! "
" Weel, Tammas Gibb," his wife would remark as often
as the heart-breaking subject was brought up, "if I had only
kenned in time what it was to be a hoose proprietor, I wad
ha'e let oor auld relative dee or leeve as he liked for a' I wad
ha'e dune for bim. It's a dear joke, the keeping up o' a Ian'
o' hooses, as we baith this day ken to oor cost."
" A Ian' o' hooses, be hang't ! " broke in Tammy. " It's the
warst babby to haud that ever I tackl't, an' I've held up a
wheen o' them at the christening."
Still there was a hope, if only trade would mend and rents
86 TAMMY GIBB'S LAN' O' HOUSES.
rise; but trade wouldn't mend at Tammy's wish, and rents
went still farther down in consequence.
Next half-year was worse than ever, and puir Tammy
had no less than thirty-eight pounds to pay out.
This last pay-out claim was scarcely met when Tammy
got formal notice that the principal bondholder would
require his money by a certain date.
This was the last straw that broke poor Tammy's back.
It cleaned him out completely, and left him a penniless
man, with a property on his back that would have been
better at the bottom of the sea.
As a last shift to right his sinking affairs, Tammy went
into the bankruptcy court, and came out a sadder but a much
wiser man.
"And what think ye of house-proprietorship now,
Thomas ? " asked one of his customers, when he had once
more got inside of his shop counter and his window
shutters off.
"What think I o't?" repeated Tammy. "Did ever ye
hear a man swearing at lairge — that is, up hill an' doon
brae ? "
" I've heard auld Swearin' Wull o' the hill driving at
it wi' engine speed and power," replied the customer.
"Touch me on the hoose-property question, an Swearin'
Wull coodna haud a caun'le to me ! " answered Tammy,
concluding which, he repeated his former queer gymnastics
on the shop floor, with added variations, till the astonished
customer thought him fair mad and all wrong in the upper
storey.
So, if ever ye're through by auld Kamshorn toon, an' want
to see wee Tammy Gibb daein' his queer shop-floor dance,
jist ye ask him hoo's business haudin', an' if he's no inclined
to retire frae the shop-trade an' invest his money in a bit o'
hoose property ?
He'll dance then, if ever he did, I can tell ye !
SHTRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE. 87
SHIRT WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-
HOUSE.
That the one half of the people in this world don't know
how the other half live, is what has often been remarked.
The difference between life in the fashionable west-end of
Glasgow, and life in an east-end twopenny lodging-house, is
about as wide as the Atlantic, and at a first glance might be
considered almost tragic in some of its severer aspects.
In a certain sense this is only too true. And yet, strange
as it appears, Humour, broad-featured and hearty, often sits
laughing at the side of Tragedy in such places, as if the lot
of the poor ragged lodgers was not a jot less happy than
that of the more favoured sons of fortune outside.
It was Sunday morning at Jean Glancey's " tippenny
doss," in the Saltmarket of Glasgow, as it was elsewhere in
the city.
The morning was a bright and pleasant one for the con-
cluding week of a more than usually wet and stormy
February, and the same sun that shone benignly down on
the oriel windows of the west-end parlours and palatial
roofs of the wealthy of the city, tempting the richly-caged
sinoine birds to burst into song, also glinted cheeringly on
the rag-stuffed windows of the wretchedly housed denizens
of the lower quarters of the city.
Wherever the sunshine could get at, there was really no
mistake about its cheering influence. It brought a wan
smile to the face of the ill-clad, ill-fed victim of bronchitis,
who saw in it a prophecy of warmer airs, and remission
from hacking night-coughs and shivery hours abed. It
warmed the pavement flags for the bare-feet of the little
arabs of the street, so long bitten by frost and snow. It
tempted to song the little linties that sat caged, here and
there, on the window sills of the poor, and touched, with the
88 SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE.
light of beauty, the budding sprigs which had root in
numerous flower pots and boxes along the lines of windows
in even the poorest streets. For even the abject poor in
many cases love the beautiful; and, thank God, the highest
and purest types of beauty and music in the world — the
sunshine, the changing colours of the sky, the melody of
the song-birds in the summer woods, and the unmatched
beauty of the wild flowers of the wayside — are free alike
to all.
And the sunshine of this particular Sunday morning was
a fact as cheering as it was visibly obvious. It even pene-
trated the back windows of Jean Glancey's twopenny lodg-
ing-house, and lay in silver patches on the floors and turned-
up bedding in the different sleeping-rooms.
But beautiful as the morning was in itself, it was Sunday
morning in Jean Glancey's, and that always spelt washing-
day with a number of her ragged lodgers.
Sunday morning seems, at first thought, an out-and-away
misappropriation of the domestic wash tub. Very true;
but what is a man to do who has only one shirt in the
world to wash and nobody to wash it but himself? Take
it off and wash it. Exactly. And that's what Jean Glan-
cey's lodgers regularly did of a Sunday morning, about, say,
once in the three or four weeks. For Sunday was an idle
day with them, and the cleansing process meant soap and
hot water, and these necessities were only obtainable
through the favour of Bel Macpherson, the strapping cook,
and most readily on a Sunday morning, when her own
wash-tubs were empty and out of use, and a small bit of
soap was for that reason not valued at a premium price.
On the particular Sunday morning under notice, there
were some half-dozen of Jean Glancey's lodgers busy wash-
ing their shirts.
The most noticeable of the group at first sight was a
broken-down semi-genteel looking being, who had remark-
SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE. 89
ably fine eyes, and wore his hair long. This person was
Gabriel Thinchaffs, a street-ballad seller and poet, who
made his own songs, and sung them himself when he could
not get other street-ballad singers to buy them and sing
them for him. Thinchaffs was a truly ethereal and poetic
spirit, being about as thin in face and body as a well-worn
George III. sixpence, and looking, physically, not unlike a
man whom fate had destined to study cold roast through
the intervening glass of a cook-shop window. For although
poor Thinchaffs bad both pockets and a stomach, as most
men have, yet he seldom had anything to put into either of
these commodities. But if Gabriel Thinchaffs was poor in
world's gear, he was extremely rich in that perennial posses-
sion of the poet's volatile breast — hope. His one crippling
weakness indeed was that he hoped the impossible, and
drank positive nectar from the brilliant delusion. Fame
and gold were in the future ! That was his living gospel of
hope, the one panacea which made light the bitter arrows
which a malignant fortune, or rather misfortune, daily
lodged in his heart. Without this perennial nectar of hope
it is questionable if even Bel Macpherson's strong cookery
could have long redeemed Gabriel Thinchaffs from that sad
penalty of poetic genius — a too early grave. Thinchaffs, in
fact, was a sort of accentuated local Micawber, invariably
on the extreme tip-toe of tense expectation, and, by a reverse
process of logic, always down-at-heel. As a co-relative of
all this, it is scarcely necessary to mention that poor Gabriel
Thinchaffs was an habitual lodger at Jean Glancey's tippenny
" doss." He was poor, it was true, but did not his splendid
poetic genius glorify his humble tripe suppers, and was not
his twopenny bed nightly made beautiful by the lights and
scents scintillated from the hovering wings of the nine
muses of poetry ! Gabriel Thinchaffs believed and felt it
to be so, and, of course, a man's individual beliefs and feel-
ings are everything — to the individual man.
t. s.
90 SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE.
The next noticeable figure was Whaler Jack, a wrecked
sailor, who had lost an arm, and the half of a leg through
frost-bite on the desolate coast of Labrador, though in reality-
he had never been further afloat than Dumbarton. Whaler
Jack, however, was a knowing cove, and had a handy way
of pulling back his " lost arm " into his vacant shirt-sleeve,
and straightening down his doubled-up leg, when his day's
begging was over, and he had reached " port " in Jean
Glancey's twopenny lodging-house.
A third character of the group w r as an old blind street
fiddler called Rosin-the-Bow, who industriously scraped cat-
gut with horse-tail hair all day long for a living. He had
nothing of your modern violin solo-player about him, neither
in his appearance nor his airs. He played simple tunes in
simple fashion, and mostly on the first position, with his
elbow fluna; hisfh in the air, and had never heard of the
great Paganini, even by name.
The remaining character we shall here notice was Lans:
Geordie Johnstone, a local speech-crier, whose attenuated
body and crane-like neck, elongated to the length of a
hen's by crying speeches, agreed but ill with the cold
east wind of a raw February morning. The east-wind,
in fact, was Lang Geordie's persistent enemy and bubbiy-
jock. It put a roopie craw in his throat, harlcd up
hard " spits " from his rather narrow chest, and gave him
a vari-coloured face, in which blue was the predominant
colour.
A right picturesque lot they looked as they stood over
their wash tubs, these gangrel creatures, the speech-crier's
lonGf crane-like neck cracking audibly over the steaming
pail, th-e wrecked sailor hitching up his duck pants every
other second, prior to a fresh attack on his striped under
garment in the pail before him, the blind fiddler feeling for
the soap which another lodger had appropriated for his own
use and pocket, and the heavenly-minded poet sneezing out
SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE. 91
the rejected steam of the pungent soap-suds as not being
exactly the inspiring elixir of poetry.
What accentuated the humour of the situation still further
was the fact that each of the three amateur shirt-washers
had their ragged coats pinned as closely up to their throats
as was possible, for the purpose of hiding their bare chests
and keeping out the cold.
"A blooming fine job this is for hus hinderpendant per-
fessionals," remarked Whaler Jack, hitching up his trousers,
and squirting out a long streak of yellow tobacco juice; "it
looks hard orales on the weather beam, it does. Bless'd if I
don't think I'll back the ship's mainyard, take in a bloom-
ing doxy for a wife, and set hup a domestic histablishment
of my own. Tea in bed and a clean washed shirt ov a
Sunday morning would prove quite hup to Tommy, I
reckon ; eh, swells ? "
" Oh, beautiful dream ! most lovely and engaging dream!"
exclaimed the romantic poet, involuntarily dropping his
half-washed shirt back into the steaming pail. And the
next moment he dramatically clasped his hands together
and turned up his eyes to the ceiling, as if lost to the world
in prayer.
" Hy, hy, there, poet ! " exclaimed the speech-crier, rub-
bing the soap out of his eyes, which the rapt poet, in strik-
ing his wet palms together, had unwittingly jerked into
them; " if it's Bel, the cook, ye're dreamin' aboot, ye needna
throw vitriol into the twa een o' a successful rival. I'm afore
ye there, Thinchaffs, in spite o' yer poetry and love valen-
tines. Poetry's a' good enough in its way, but let me warn
you, a man can hang himsel' as effectually wi'.a rope made
o' poetry as wi' yin spun oot o' common hemp. Be advised
by me, Gabriel, and tak' oot a city porter's license without
loss of time, if ye really mean matrimony."
" Vile pelf again ! " sighed the idealistic poet, " the world,
and its mean hunger for perishing bread, will step in
92 SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE.
between the soul and its sublime conception of the
beautiful."
" Blow poetry and the beautiful say I," chimed in the
wrecked sailor, " tip us a quid o' tobaker, mate, will yez ? "
" Conception o' the beautiful ! " re-echoed the practical
speech-crier, dropping his half- washed shirt into the hot pail
in astonishment, " conception o' the beautiful ! Hang me
up by the twa heels for a bit o' hame-fed mutton if that's no
a bricht yin ! Whaur's the beauty o' a man washing his yae
shirt in a tippenny lodging-house on a Sunday morning, wi'
his oot-at-elbows-hand-me-down-coat buttoned up to his
shilpit chin; an' his nose an' twa een nippin' wi' saip-suds,
an' rinnin' wi' watter like the spoot o' a hillside burn ? I
can see as faur thro' an inch brod as onybody, but, hang
me, Thinchaffs, if I can perceive the spirit o' the beautiful in
sic an acute condition o' things as that !"
" Stop, stop ! " exclaimed the idealistic poet, " the rich
man is not necessarily a happy man. A man maybe happy
with one shirt only, or even with no shirt at all. There
was once on a time a ureat Kinar, "
" Hear, hear ! now we'll have a yarn," put in the wrecked
sailor, hitching up his loose pants in true sailor fashion.
" There was once on a time a great King," resumed the
poet, " who fell ill of being too well off and having nothing
to do. He summoned his two principal Court physicians,
who each saw he was in first-rate bodily health, and was
sick only from having nothing to do.
" ' What is the matter with me 1 ' demanded the King.
" ' You are quite well, I perceive,' replied one of the two
Court physicians.
" ' Take off his head to-morrow !' was the King's rejoinder.
" The physician was dragged off and thrust into prison.
'"What is the matter with me?' the King next demanded
of the second physican.
" ' You are very ill, I perceive, but could be made well in
SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE. 93
a single hour by getting into the shirt of a really happy
man,' answered the physician, who had no wish to share
the fate of his companion.
"'Go and fetch me the shirt of a truly happy man,
wherever he is to be found,' said the King to his courtiers.
" They searched everywhere among all classes of people for
a thoroughly happy man," the poet continued, " and at last,
after a long search, they found a poor ragged tinker sitting
laughing loudly, and gaily chatting with a companion on
the roadside. Here was their chance to get the shirt of an
obviously happy man. The King's courtiers approached,
and offered the tinker a hundred pieces of gold for his shirt
to cure the King's melancholy. The tinker rolled over in
broad and hearty laughter when he heard it.
" ' Come, come,' said the courtiers, ' will you sell us your
shirt ? See, there is a hundred pieces of gold for your shirt
to cure the King of his melancholy.'
" ' Ha-ha-ha ! ' once more laughed aloud the tinker, ' go
back and tell your royal master that the happiest man you
met to-day had not a shirt to his back ! '
" There you are," triumphantly added the poet; "a man's
soul is far above linen shirts, as I have often told you.
Poetry and the beautiful go hand in hand, and are a thousand
miles above twopenny lodgings and Sunday morning shirt-
washings in Jean Glancey's infirmary."
" Blow poetry and the beautiful, mates," once more put in
the wrecked sailor, with a shrug of the shoulders, " it's hard
seas on the weather bow for the most of huz sailor coves
while ploughing life's stormy main; but book me for a
chicken-hearted land-lubber if I consent to let the briny
'weeps' flow down my sun-tanned cheeks ! Tip us a Chris-
tian quid o' tobaker, poet, will yez ? The blooming ' locker's
h empty here," and the wrecked sailor expressively slapped
his trouser pockets.
" I cannot stoop to reason with you," said the poet, once
04 SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE.
more resuming his washing operations. " Understand, I am
not at all of your kidney ; neither are you of my ecstatic
temperament. You live in a low servile worldly sphere ; I
cling to the stars."
" Jean Glancey's," said the speech-crier, " the door to the
left ; twa stairs up."
" No, no," angrily said the rapt poet, " I am not one of the
common herd. I live in a world of imagination, of fancy,
of beautiful dreams. In a word, I am a poet, I tell you, and
I cling to the stars ! " •
" Ay, when Bel, the cook, chucks ye owre a fat bane to
sook," retorted the speech-crier, " it's then ye're in a world
o' really beautiful dreams ; it's then ye're clingin' in reality
to the beautiful stars ; isn't that the case, Thinchaffs ? "
" Proceed with your base insinuations, vile man," returned
the stung poet somewhat warmly, " I tell you I am above
your low biscuit-and-cheese philosophy, as the stars are
above the earth," and having thus loftily exercised himself,
the romantic poet wrung his shirt as dry as his feeble strength
of arm would allow, and then shook it out flat to critically
survey its cleansed surface.
" Blow biscuits and cheese, say I ! " once more sung out
the wrecked sailor; "can't yer dry up yer blooming jaw an'
chuck a poor fellow a quid o' tobaker ? Sling us a Chris-
tian chowe, poet, and, so help me Tommy! you can put
down Whaler Jack for 250 copies of yer volume of poems —
when they're printed! I'm a cove wot likes to hencourage
hobscure merit, I does."
That was the proverbial last straw which invariably broke
Gabriel Thinchaffs' poetic back. He could stand nonsense
fairly well, he always declared, and didn't actively object to
"funning," even when the barbed joke was pointed at him-
self. But to joke him on his prospective volume of poems,
that was in his eyes the one unpardonable sin, the unkindest
cut of all. He had once had dreams of a volume and fame,
SHIRT-WASHING IN A TWOPENNY LODGING-HOUSE. 95
poor man. What rhymer that ever kicked six clinking lines
together hadn't ? The dream of a volume and fame, how-
ever, were now long entombed in that insatiable grave of
poetic ambition, perished hopes. And Thinchaffs could not
stand to be joked on the subject. It cut deep into the flesh
of his over-sensitive heart. Therefore, when the " wrecked
sailor," who had been clamouring in vain for a Christian
quid of tobacco, retaliated by offering to subscribe for 250
copies of his volume of poems — ivhen printed — poor Thin-
chaffs lost his head and his temper together, and picking up
his newly-wrung shirt, he shoved his hand inside the pail
of soap suds and fished up the small bit of soap he had
been using, preparatory to vacating the hostile spot.
" Whaler Jack," he then said, assuming a deeply dramatic
tone of voice, " you are a person of low instincts, an indi-
vidual of prosaic mind and ultramarine habits. I cannot
stoop to talk with you; good-by ! " And having thus
delivered himself, the romantic poet walked off.
" Hy there, poet ! " shouted the wrecked sailor, " who are
yez calling a horse-marine and a low-minded hindervidual,
eh ? You've very spryly taken away the soap, I see, and,
blow me for a fresh- water marine, if yer don't take yer pail
o' suds along with it ; down helm on ye, for a mean land-
lubber ! there ! " And, suiting the action to the word, with
a powerful swish, Whaler Jack threw the liquid contents
of the poet's deserted wash-pail slash over its owner's back.
"He shipped that sea neatly, I reckon," laughed Whaler
Jack, as he saw the poet emerge from the baptism of sapples
like Neptune rising with dripping locks from the bed of the
ocean.
" Eh, ye thowless gang o' ne'er-do-weels ! " sang out
Bel Macpherson, the stout cook, dashing in among the
shirtless disputants, with dishevelled hair and a wet dish-
clout in her hand; "to think ye'd fling yer dirty shirt-
washings owre my clean scullery fluir ! The like o't's no on
96 ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER.
record, here or faur enough ! Oot o' my gaet wi' ye, ye
shirtless gangrels ! To yer beds till yer linen's dry ! " and
with great vigour and spirit the buxom cook slashed and
lashed the disputants right and left till she had effected a
summary clearance of the apartment.
The effect was magical. In two seconds the room was
emptied of the ragged shirt-washers, who slunk back to bed
in the lump, or crowded round the fire-place till such time
as the stout cook had wrung out their half-washed shirts,
and dried them at the big kitchen fire.
WW ARCHIE MACGREGOR PAID OUT THE
HORSE-COWPER.
Archie Macgregor was a Glasgow thriving butcher, and a
well-known visitor at the Cattle Market. He was a regular
characteristic Celt, with a long memory, and a very un-
forgiving disposition. On the list of Archie's acquaintances
was a horse-cowper named Bob Buchanan. Now the horse-
cowper was a fairly good man socially, but he had one
rather narrow side to his character, and that was an in-
ordinate love of money, with the determination to have
it at all risks. In this respect, Buchanan, it was said, would
have sold his own father, if the opportunity of making
money out of the transaction had been possible.
A good many years back, Buchanan had sold Archie
Macgregor a horse, in the way of business. The purchase
turned out little short of a " sell " for Archie. He got by far
the worst of the bargain, as he found to his cost, when too
late to get the matter rectified.
" That was a rale bad trick o' Bob's," Archie said to himself
one day in thinking over the matter, " to sell me a broken-
winded spavined auld horse for a brisk young yin. He sell't
ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER. 97
mair than the horse on that occasion, as my pocket kens to
its cost. But stop awee ; I'll maybe sell him as cleverly
some clay, afore I cast oot wi'm. If no, my name's no
Archie Macgregor."
As will be guessed from the tone of his private mind,
Archie had a plot of revenge of some indefinite kind stowed
secretly away in his big head, which he only waited an
opportunity to put into practice against the fraudulent
money-grasping horse-cowper.
Everything, they say, comes to those who wait, if they
only wait long enough, and Archie's opportunity of revenge
turned up at last.
Archie had been aware for some considerable time that
the avaricious horse-cowper had been looking out for a wife
with some money, his first wife having been dead several
years. And in the certain knowledge of this, Archie was
able to pay off his well-remembered grudge against the
horse-cowper.
Among Archie's shop customers was a cranky old maid, of
a semi-genteel type in both dress and manners, who had just
come into a certain money legacy. The legacy was small,
some of the folks said, but others again magnified it to
the large amount of .£25,000.
One day shortly after the old maid's legacy had become
known to her friends, the horse-cowper stepped jauntily
into Archie's shop, and briskly " How-d'ye-do'd" him.
Civilities mutually exchanged, the horse-cowper began, in
a sly underhand way, to pump Archie on a matter that lay
very close to his mind. For he had heard of the old maid's
windfall, and knew that she frequented Archie's shop.
" Man, Archie, that's wonderfu' news I'm hearin' aboot a,
customer woman o' yours — Miss Maggie Smacker ; I suppose
ye've heard a' aboot it — an' the particulars ? "
" Heard what ? " unconcernedly answered Archie, never
letting on that he smelt the horse-cowper's motive.
98 ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER.
" Dae ye mean to say ye hivna heard o' what everybody
roon' here's been speaking o' for three weeks back — Miss
Smacker's legacy ? "
" Oh, yes," carelessly said Archie, " I've heard sae much
aboot it that I've got tired o' the subject ; ye see I'm married
an' done for already, sae there's nae yise for me botherin'
mysel' aboot ony auld maid's legacy, be't muckle or little."
" The amount, Archie, — have ye heard o't ? " quickly put
in the horse-cowper.
" Twenty-five thousand pounds, they say," frankly
answered Archie, slyly watching the effect on the fortune-
hunting horse-cowper. The golden bait instantly took, Archie
was secretly delighted to see.
"Twenty -five thousand pounds, Archie !" exclaimed the
horse-cowper, " man, that's a rare chance for somebody.
Mony a man wad marry a modern witch o' Endor for half
the amount."
" Ah, but Maggie's a fly yin," put in Archie. " She's no
gaun to gie hersel' awa' in marriage to ony man that believes
in the full extent o' her legacy, she stoutly declares. The
man that seeks her hand in marriage must think muckle
o' hersel', an' little o' her money."
"Ay; is that so?" muttered the horse-cowper, half aloud
and half to himself. " In ony case, she's worth looking after,
Miss Smacker, an' wad prove a boon to a strugglin' man."
After some further off and on remarks, the two parted ;
the fortune-hunting horse-cowper with a deep laid scheme
in his mind, the main object of which was the possession
of the auld-maid legatee's money ; the other with the
determination to have a good laugh, and a bit of hard
revenge on the avaricious horse-cowper for the swindle
practised on him years before, in the sale of the broken-
winded spavined old horse.
Now, the horse-cowper was an unscrupulous go-a-head
fellow, who was not inclined to stick at a trifle. So,
ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER. 99
having made up his mind on the matter, he at once got an
introduction to Miss Smacker, as a suitor for her hand,
through the kind help of Archie Macgregor, who, by way
of private revenge, was only too glad to put the horse-
cowper in her way.
But why was Archie Macgregor so anxious to help
forward the horse-cowper's suit ? — he who years before had
so badly swindled Archie in the sale, of a horse. Did Archie
know the real amount of Miss Smacker's legacy ? Well,
perhaps he did ? Let the diverting sequel tell.
" This is a bonnie nicht, Miss Smacker," was the horse-
cowper's salutation as he entered the legatee's humble
apartment as a suitor, for the third time.
The auld-maid legatee frankly admitted it was.
"Yes, a rale bonnie nicht/' repeated the horse-cowper,
dropping uninvited into the nearest chair, " nearly as bonnie
as yer lovely sel', Miss Smacker, no to flatter ye wan wee
inch."
Observe, this was said to an auld maid whose scraggy
yellow-ochred countenance was past being photographed.
Miss Smacker was secretly delighted at the pretty
compliment so artfully paid her by the fortune-hunting
horse-cowper. But, is it real? she mentally asked herscli',
or, has he heard, like the rest, of my modest legacy, which
rumour has so largely added to ? I'll test him, she con-
cluded within her own mind. So, she said : —
"Mr. Buchanan, you have, of course, heard of my
legacy ? "
" Oh, yes, my dear Miss Smacker, I have heard a wee bit
cheepin' whisper o't," he admitted, " but it gaed in at my
richt lug and passed oot o' my left. It's yer bonnie sel' I'm
interested in, Miss Smacker, yer bonnie, lovely sel'. My
life is a lonely yin like yer ain, I dare say ; will ye be mine?"
" Stop ! stop ! Mr. Buchanan," broke in the auld-maid
legatee. " Are ye fully aware o' the extent o' my legacy ? "
100 AKCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER.
" No more than the man in the moon, my dear," answered
the horse-cowper ; "it's yer bonnie sel' I'm interested
in.
" Weel, then, I'll let ye ken the exact amount o't, so that
ye may look weel afore ye lowp."
Here the avaricious horse-cowper noticeably cocked his
ears in spite of his attempts to appear indifferent.
" I've been left a clean twenty-five ."
" A' richt, my dear Miss Smacker," broke in the horse-
cowper, " be't hundreds or thoosands, I'm on the job.
Again I ask you — Will ye be mine ? "
" But I want to distinctly let ye ken that its only twenty-
five ."
" Nae maitter tho' it was only twenty-five shillin's," again
interrupted the fortune-hunter, "I'm on the job, I say; it's
yer bonnie, bloomin' sel' I'm wantin', an' once more I ask
you — Will ye be mine ? "
"Oh, spare my delicate feelin's, if you please, Mr.
Buchanan," said the auld-maid legatee. "It's no every
day in the week that a lonely woman's asked in marriage.
I'm awfu' agitated owre this — awfu' agitated : the win' has
gotten roon my heart owre't, I feel. I only wish I had a
peppermint lozenger the noo."
"Is there a peppermint manufactory near at han'?"
questioned the adaptable horse-cowper, being very anxious
to make himself agreeable and kind. " Is there a peppermint
manufactory aboot, Miss Smacker, I ask ? if so, name the
spot."
" Oo, never mind ; I'll win' owre the bit shock," said
the legatee. " But are ye quite sure ye cood tak' me, Mr.
Buchanan, puir an' lonely as I am ? "
" She's a fly yin," thought the horse-cowper. " She's
testin' my sincerity by preachin' up her poverty; but it's a'
richt. I'll bring doon my bird in a crack." Then, once
more addressing the legatee, he said aloud — "Am I sure I
ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER. 101
cood tak' ye, poor as ye are ? Of course I am. H;m<-<-
your twenty-five thous that is, your trifling little
legacy."
"Twenty-five pounds," put in the legatee.
" She's testin' me hard," thought the horse-cowper ; " but
I'm wide awake for her little game." Then, once more
raising his voice, he said : — " Hang your legacy, Miss
Smacker; be't large or small, it's your bonnie sel' I'm
after, an' nothing beyond that. Answer me at once, my
dear, and put me out of pain — Will ye be mine ? "
The auld maid's hand fell into the clasp of the fortune-
hunting horse-cowper, and so the matter was settled between
them there and then.
A marriage, and, following that, an expensive wedding-
trip took place. Everything went as merry as marriage
bells should do, till, on returning home from their marriage
jaunt, the horse-cowper, having spent all his available cash,
gently hinted to his wife to fork oat.
" Fork out what ? " asked the legatee in surprise.
"Some o' that twenty-five thousand pound legacy that
was left ye six weeks since, an' that ye've sae carefully kept
dark sae lang. Come, Maggie, we're noo man an' wife ; nae
mair need for love palavers; in plain language, fork out,
for I'm fair on the rocks."
The newly-made wife was astonished beyond measure at
the turn things had taken.
" My legacy's a' spent on mysel' in silk gowns, as ye weel
ken, sir," she replied in a tone of reproach.
" All spent !" said the husband aghast, the truth begin-
ning to flash in on his mind. "All spent, did ye say?
Twenty-five thousand all gone on silk dresses ? Oh, stuff
an' nonsense ! "
" Twenty-five pounds only, as I weel warned ye, an' nae
thoosands aboot it," said the legatee.
" Show me the papers, woman ! "
102 ARCHIE MACGREGOR AND THE HORSE-COWPER.
" They're in the shuttle o' the kist there ; ye can examine
them an' satisfy yersel' as to the amount."
In less than no time the fortune-hunting horse-cowper
was over at the chest, and had disinterred the law papers.
It was only too true ! The sum left to his wife had been
only twenty-five pounds, as she had truthfully stated to him.
" Woman, you have sold me, — swindled me ! I have been
misled in this matter ! I am undone ! "
" Undone, are ye ? my sang, but this is a fine cairry on
six weeks after marriage !" angrily answered the legatee,
"after a' yer fine professions o' love, too."
" Oh, hang love an' you both," retorted the sold fortune-
hunter.
" What ! an' is that a' the consolation I'm to have, after
throwing awa' my auld maiclship on a common horse-
cowper, an' my guid solid twent} T -five pound legacy as
well ? I wonder, sir, what'ill be your next procedure ? "
" A divorce — an instant and final divorce," gruffly
answered the wroth horse-cowper, " it's the only straight
way out of this gross mistake."
"A divorce!" screamed the confounded legatee. "Siccan
a fell exposure ! I'll tak' to my bed for't first," and at once
the legatee began to put her threat into practical execution.
In fact, so much was this the case, that it took about two
pounds' worth of medicine and no end of doctor's attendance
to take her out of bed, once she had got into it, as the horse-
cowper afterwards knew to his salt cost.
He was married however, and practically done for, both
he and she well knew, seeing which the sold fortune-hunter
put the best face he could on the matter, and latterly found
Miss Smacker not such a bad wife after all.
As for Archie Macgregor, he had a good broad laugh over
the business all along the line, and it was the horse-cowper's
belief that he was more than merely instrumental in leading
him into the mistake. When they happened to meet on
TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON. 103
the street, he could scarcely mistake the grin on Archie's
face.
Archie and the horse-cowper seldom speak now, but
Archie hears that if you wish to raise the horse-cowper's
hair, just ask him in what bank he has invested his wife's
twenty-five thousand pound legacy, an' if he's leevin' aff
the interest yet ?
TAM BROON'S VISIT TO IONDON.
Of a' places in the world for steer an' street traffic that ever
on}' mortal man saw, London carries the cake.
I gaed up there lately since, an' spent six or eicht days
seein' the sichts. I wad hae been a sicht better at hame.
It was aboot nine o'clock in the mornin' when I found
mysel' oot o' the train an' standin' on the street wondering
what way to turn.
There was a fearfu' crood o' folk poorin' alang baith ways,
an' thoosands o' every kind o' twa an' fowr- wheeled vehicles-
but every body and every thingseemed in siccan a fell big hurry
that I coodna see onybody likely to harken to my questions.
Lookin' aboot me, I saw a Bobby standin' on the middle
o' the street regulatin' the traffic, so I watched my chance
an' made a race for him.
" Can ye airt me to whaur I cood get a bit chape room tae
pit up in for a nicht or twa ? " I asks.
Mr. Bobby looked at me yince or twice, an' seemed no to
comprehend my question. So I repeated it as plainly as I cood.
But Mr. Bobby only shook his heid, an' went on regulatin'
the crooded street-traffic as before.
" Weel then," says I, " if ye canna airt me tae lodgin's, ye
cood maybe tell me whaur I cood fa' in wi' a wee shaeblack
laddie, as I'm badly wan tin' the glaur clautit aff my buits ? "
104 TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON.
Mr. Bobby looked at me very inquisitively for the third
time, an' then he asked —
" Wot part of Germany do yow come from ? "
" Germany, be hang't ! " I shouted oot at the tap o' my
voice. "Dae ye ackwally tak' me for a sausage-eatin'
German ? Man, I'm a simple daicent country chappie frae
the wast o' Scotland — nae faurrer awa'."
" Call at the Society for the aid hov distressed foreigners,"
the Bobby snapped. " I 'ave no time to 'elp you now."
There was a bonnie way to trate a stanger, wasn't it ? I
thocht sae at the time, so my Scotch bluid got up, an' on
turning to gang awa' I says —
" Man, ye craw unca croose on yer ain midden-heid ; but
if I had ye doon bye at auld Bannockburn, I wad tak' the
starch oot o' ye in twa ticks, or I'm a Dutchman ! "
" Oh, you're a Dutchman, are you ? All right ; 'ave it all
your hon bloomin' way ; but I concluded as you wass a
German sassenger. Good day ! "
I was glad to get awa' frae the rascal, as I didna half
relish his aff-takin' remarks, pretendin' that he didna
understan' plain Scotch, an' that he thocht I was a German
sassenger! Na, na, Mr. Bobby; that cock'll no fecht, shod
an' spur it as ye will. I'm a Scotchman born and bred, an'
I look it, frae heid tae heel.
Weel, I gangs on a bit faurrer, an' I thocht I wad at yince
speir my way to my auld frien', Willie Craig's oyster shop,
in Fleet Street.
So I gangs owre to a daicent lookin' citizen this time,
Avha was standin' on the edge o' the pavement waiting a
chance to cut across the street, an' I says to him —
" Am frae the auld toon o' Fen wick, doon bye in Ayrshire,
an' I've cam' up to London to see my auld frien' Willie
Craig, o' the Fisheries, in Fleet Street. Maybe ye cood
airt me there ? I spoke twa words to a Bobby doon the
street there, but he only codded me, an' let on he thocht I
TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON. 105
was a German sassenger. I was near-han' lettin' him hae a
daud on the lug wi' my steikit neive for his nonsense."
Weel, the man stood lookin' at me, as if I was some
hang't Laplander or ither frae the North Pole, an' never a
word spak' he.
Thinks I to mysel', " Waur an' waur ; this is a dummy I've
forgathered wi' this time. He's worse than Mr. Bobby yet,
for he hasna heard a single word I've said."
Wi' that I turned awa' frae him, an' pushed forrit the
street as weel's the awfu' crood an' steer wad let me, banoin'
against this yin, an' gettin' half ca'd owre by the tither
yin, till I thocht the win' wad hae been clean knockit oot
o' me a' thegither, stowp an' rowp.
" It's a vera strange thing," thocht I, as I daunnert alang,
"that a plain-speakin' Scotch country chiel canna mak'hiin-
sel' understuid in London ; a vera strange affair, indeed."
Then I began to wonder if I was really in London ?
" What," thinks I, " if I'm no in London ava' ? Maybe
I've tooken the wrang train, an' been whisket like lichtnin'
awa' to some ither foreign place ? Lord, I'm maybe in France,
for a' I ken to the contrary."
Weel, wi' that I got quite nervous, an' begood to jaloose
I was in a bad fix. So, up I bangs to the first wice-lookin'
man I saw, an' says I —
" If ye please, sir, is this London ? "
" London ? that's so."
" Then is Willie Craig in ? "
" Is Willie Craig in ? " repeated the person questioned ;
" likely enough he is ; at least there is room enough for him
here, I daresay. Where does your friend burrow ? "
" In Fleet Street," I quickly answered, glad to have met
a man that understood plain Scotch.
" Oh, Willie Craig of the Fisheries ? "
" That's him," I answered.
" A fine chiel, an' a Scotchman, too," answered the stranger.
T.S. 8
106 TAM BKOON'S VISIT TO LONDON.
" I'm a Scotchman myself, and my heart warms to the tartan.
Fleet Street lies straight ahead; you'll find the famous
Fisheries in one of the oldest buildings in old London,
and Willie himself in his shirt-sleeves, and at the back of
the counter, most likely."
Now, there was a daicent sensible man. He compre-
hended my question in a moment. For a rale clever, clear-
heided, sensible man, recommend me tae a Scotchman.
He'susefu' baith athame an' abroad, but he's oftener abroad
than at hame, as a rule.
But I didna let my countryman gang awa' dry-lippit.
Na, na ; I aye like daicency, an' a social taste o' the Auld
Kirk o' Scotland when meetin' wi' a frien' in a strange place.
So, after a bit quate dram atween us, and a short twa-handed
crack, we shook han's an' pairtecl, an' in five minutes there-
after I was safe through the busy Strand, an' forgein' my
way up auld Fleet Street. Eh, me, but London's an awfu'
place for steer an' street traffic ! That I'm back here in Scot-
land wi' a' my limbs hale an' soond an' firmly haudin' tae me,
is a mystery an' a marvel to mysel' this day.
But it was aboot my auld Fenwick frien', Willie Craig,
I was speakin'. Weel, in a wonderfu' short time, considerin'
what I had to encounter, wi' crooded streets an' strange
faces an' mainners, I fand oot Willie's shop, an' got a richt
guid frien'ly Scotch welcome, a savoury plate o' stewed
eels, an' a kind sitten-doon for the remainder o' my
stay.
Willie's claein' rale weel in London, ye'll a' be glad to hear.
Man, he's a rare cook. His stewed eels are really grand,
an' his oysters are jist perfection. If ye're ever up in
London, tak' my compliments wi' ye, an' ca' at Willie's shop
in Fleet Street. Ye'll find baith him an' his public table
up tae Tommy in a' respects.
But aboot big London. The first day I was there I
visited the Tower. It's a truly wonderfu' sicht. Then, I
is
TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON. 107
next got on the tap o' an omnibus an' syne drave, like a
lord, tae the Zoological Gardens.
Eh, but yo'n's a perf eckly wonderfu' exhibition o' birds an'
animals. I thocht the lions a grand sicht, but I was mair
than merehy interested in the monkej-s. Siccanauld-fashioned
lookia' wee deils o' men folks I never clapp't een on before.
As for auld Aunt Sally, the big gorilla, I'll only say this,
that if yon's no somebody's grandmither, I'll eat my auld
hat richt up, frae rim tae croon. An' siccan a crood o' birds
an' animals frae a' pairts an' places o' the kenned world ! It
was fair prodigious !
" You look amazed a bit, friend ? " remarked a bystander
to me while sittin' in the gardens. " Wot's the wonder ? "
"The wonder's this," says I, "hoo auld Noah ever got a
pair o' each o' a' these animals crushed intae his ark, no' to
mention the necessary provender. It fair licks cock-fechtin."
Weel, next day I visited St. Paul's, the British Museum',
the National Gallery, Westminster Abbey, the inside o' the
Hoose o' Commons, an' a lot o' ither famous places besides.
On the third day I had a fine time o't sailing up an' doon
the Thames in the penny steamers. It's a wonderfu' big
an' busy river the Thames; Irvine Watter canna baud a
caunle tae't.
On board yin o' the river steamers I was vera nem
ha'ein' a haud wi' a conceited bit nyaff o' a Cockney.
" Hello, Scottie, what think ye o' London?" he impidently
asked me.
"Fully mair than I dae o' you," I as sharply replied.
"Aw ! are } r ou going back to Scotland again?" he next asked.
" I hope to guidness I am," says I, " when the like o' you's
aboot."
"Well, that is strange — aint it, now?"
" What's strange in that ? " I asked.
"Oh, when a Scotchman proper once sees London, as a
rule he never once thinks of going back, you know. But
108 TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON.
you don't find us Englishmen remaining over a brief fortnight
in Scotland, — your country is so very barren and poor."
" That'll dae for you, Mr. Cockney," says I, " if ye come
doon wi' me to Scotland, I'll tak' in han' to show ye whaur
thirty thoosand o' your countrymen hae been lyin' contented
for over 500 years."
" Where's that ? " he said.
" Bannockburn," says I.
Faith, I had him on the hip there, an' no mistake ! Ye
may catch a weasel asleep, if ye gang early enough to its
hole, but no Tam Broon; I'm owre weel nicket in the horns
by this time to let a Cockney tak' a laugh oot o' me. Oh,
ay ! trust me for that.
But tae tell o' a' I saw in London wad weary oot yer
patience. For it's an awfu' size o' a place, an's fu'o' every kind
o' Christian an' unchristian man an' woman on this earth,
frae a woolly-heided Caffir to a hooked-nosed German Jew.
An' for spendin' money in ! Dinna mention 't ! The week
I was up there the white sixpences were fleein' oot o' my
pooches like fair snawdrift. I had some fourteen shillin's in
my pooch on the day I landed in London, and when I started.
for hame, I declare to guidness, I had nae mair than four
shillin's left oot o't a' ! So, ye may guess hoo the money
was spinnin', an' hoo I was rinnin' the merry rig. Oh, ay !
London's an awfu' place for sportin' an' spendin' money in,
tak' my honest word for that. I've been thro' the whins
mysel', an' can speak o't frae a saut personal experience.
But, if ye want to see the world in miniature gang up to
London in the season, as I did, altho' it may cost ye a bit
penny o' siller.
An' when ye gang there, dinna fail to ca' on my anld
Fenwick frien', Willie Craig, o' the Fleet Street Fisheries.
As I was sayin', ye'll find him a true-blue Scot, an' takin'
my compliments alang wi' ye, he'll male' ye as welcome an'
as muckle at hame as if ye were sittin' at yer ain fireside,
TAM BROON'S VISIT TO LONDON. 100
wi' yer wife on the yae side o' ye, an' yer bowl o' evenin'
brose on the ither.
But, mind ye, tak' guid care o' the bawbees when ye gang
oot sicht-seein', for sicht-seein' in London is sair, sair on the
sixpences, as I this day ken to my cost.
Maybe ye'd like to hear an instance o' this ? A weel,
here's a funny yin for ye : —
On the day o' my arrival in the inuckle toon, I gaed into a
braw-lookin' barber's shop in the centre o' the City, an' sat
doon on a fine-cushioned chair that felt as saft as melted butter.
" Your hair shortened, please ? " asked yin o' the attendants,
jumpm roon me like a young kangaroo.
" Na, na," says I, " nae need for gettin' my hair shortened
in the barber's."
" No ! How so, may I ask ? "
" I'm a married man ; my wife's twa han's are seldom
oot o' my hair. Fegs it's the keepin' on o' what's left that
sair bothers me. D'ye twig ony thing, chappie ?"
Weel, the bit barber buddy laughed alang wi' mysel' an'
the ithers in the shop, an' they a' began winking tae each
ither, an' cuisting side-glances in my direction.
" What then can I do for you, please?" resumed the barber.
" Tak' aff my beard," says I ; " my chin's as rough as a
stubble field."
" Soap ! " said the barber, an' in twa ticks a young shaver
had me saipit a' owre, frae lug tae laggan, afore I could get
time to draw a breath, or cry Jake Robinson ! Man, it was
grand. If the brush had been dippit in warm treacle it
coodna hae slid mair easily an' saftly roond my chin.
In that barber's shop I felt in fair Paradise. There's an airt
in shaving. They ken hoo tae pit on the saip in London ; —
ay, an' the expenses tae ! But stop a bit ; I'm comin' tae that.
Weel, I was vera highly pleased wi' the operation — it had
been so very agreeably an' handsomely dune. My chin was
like a fair new chin a' thegither — it was sae smooth, sae
&
110 GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
glossy, an' sae even on the surface. I thocht myseP quite
the swell after't. But stop awee ; there's nae rale lastin'
enjoyment or peace o' mind on this side o' time. I was vera
sune plunged, heid an' ears, in a tub o' cauld watter, figur-
atively speakin'.
" What's tae pay ? " I asked, grandiloquently handlin' my
purse wi' the twelve or fourteen shillin's in't. " Hoo much
is tae pay, I'm askin' ? "
" Sixpence," said the barber.
" Sixpence! " I cried, fa'in' back in my chair, as if my wind?
pipe had been nicket by the razor. " Sixpence, say ye ? "
" Sixpence — that's the charge," repeated the barber.
" Na, na, my chappie; it'll no clae ; the shae disna fit;
ye've shaved me yince, I admit" (clawin my chin) "but ye'll
no, wi' my will, shave me twice after that fashion. I never
pey mair than a penny for gettin' the beard afF my chin in
Scotland. See, there's a penny, an' if ye're no satisfied ye
can jist pit on my beard again ! "
Wi' that they a' burst oot in laughter, in the midst o'
which I pick't up my bannet an' slippit quately an' quickly
awa', leavin' the penny on the coonter.
Eh, it's a wonderfu' place London; but, as I said before,
it's there ye can spend the bawbees, an' never ken ye're
daein't. A. sixpence is never safe in yer pooch there when
ye're oot sicht-seein', an's faur better left in yer lodgin's till
yer return, as I this day ken tae my saut cost !
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
In aulden times the practical chimney-sweeper had a more
difficult and much more stuffy job in Glasgow, and the west
of Scotland generally, than he now has, in the sense that he
commonly "soopit the lum" with a handbrush from the
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM. ill
inside by ascending the " lum " from the hearthstane
upwards, as a sailor climbs the ship's mast.
Gradually as the citygrew,and the old-fashioned tenements
gave place to more commodious and fashionable buildings,
the " sweep " mounted the roof for it, and with ball-brushes
adapted to the change, he cleaned the chimney from the
top downwards, as is now invariably the case.
The old practice died hard, however, as most established
customs do, and up till a comparatively recent date it was
not at all unusual, as the result of a former practice, for the
"sweep" to send his sooty apprentice "up the lum," brush
in hand, to the height of the first " bend," for the purpose
of clearing down the soot which commonlv lodged there
after the ball-brush had done its work from the roof.
In this connection we have an amusing story to tell of
auld Georclie Shuttle and his wife, Mattie, both of whom
were sair putten-aboot yae Ne'er-Day morning by an inci-
dent connected with the annual " soopin' o' the lum."
" Is the ' sweep ' trysted for the morn, Mattie ? " asked
Geordie, on a certain Hogmanay nicht as the clock was
wearing round towards the fateful hour of twelve.
"At eiclit o'clock the morn's mornin' he's comin' here,"
answered Mattie, " when I hope to see the lum get a riclit
guid soopin' doon."
Mattie's trysted "first-fit" duly came at the back uf
twelve that nicht, or, rather, next morning, and the worthy
domestic pair having immediately thereafter gone to bed
for a bit four hours' dover o' sleep, they were at the hour
arranged, knocked up by the said " sweep," along wi' his wee
black-loolling deil o' an apprentice, who was attired in an
auld cast-off soldier's coat, and who carried the soot-bag and
the brushes liker a born imp of the lower Plutonian regions
than anything else one could easily fancy.
Inside the tick of two seconds Mattie, truth to tell, had
jumped from the warm embrace o' the blankets to her feet,
112 GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
and in two seconds more she was followed by Geordie, who
took the floor in his cowl, his stockings, and his stick-leg.
Now, there was an awkward bend about half-way up the
chimney, which was always a difficult bit to " soop " clean.
Mattie therefore warned the " sweep * to see to it that the
soot lodgin' in the ben' bit o' the lum was richt soopit oot,
or, failing that, " no a fardin o' the fowr pence to be given
him would she pay, pollis or no pollis ! "
All this was. so far, duly done. The chimney was swept
down, and the master- sweep having several other chimneys
to attend to, left the wee apprentice-laddie to speel up the
vent and finish the job.
All right ; so far, so good. But then, it was Ne'er-Day
morning, and everybody seemed touched with whisky, in-
cluding dooce Mattie, honest Geordie himself, and the master-
sweep. Even the wee sooty black-a-vised apprentice laddie
was quite bung full of curran' bun and ginger cordial, as
was to be expected on a Scotch Ne'er-Day mornin'.
" He's as like a wee black-faced hill sheep as ever I saw,"
remarked Mattie, when the wee laddie "sweep" had disap-
peared up the chimney. "I only hope he'll come doon safe
an' soon an' a' richt."
' : Nae fears o' that, Mattie ; he's a born deil, that wee sooty
chapp — a fair black chip aff the auld block. If he's no a
deil's wean, then he maun be direct aff the monkey breed, for
a funnier wee-facecl, auld fashion't lookin' mannie I never
clap't an e'e on ; an' as for speilin' a vent, he jist ran up that
crookit lum-heid the noo like a squirrel up a tree, or a monkey
after a cocoanut. It strikes me vera forcibly that Auld Soot}^,
the sweep, must ha'e bocht him, or, mair likely, stolen him
frae some auld Italian organ-grinder in some backcourt or
ither."
" I wish I saw him safe doon," put in Mattie, " for I'm
anxious to get the hoose redd-up an' in proper order — for
this, ye ken's the New- Year mornin'. "
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM. 113
" There's nae fears o' the callan, Mattie ; he's bringin' doon
the soot in fine muckle lumps, onyway. An' that's a' we
need be concerned aboot. As for the rest o't, he'll be doon
here afore twa ticks, never ye fear."
The expressive " twa ticks " here spoken of by Geordie,
however, passed away without bringing down the wee sweep's
apprentice. They listened, but could hear no sound.
What could be detaining the young imp up the " lum " so
long, they wondered. The sound of his brush had fallen
quiet all at once, which looked ominous, to say the least of it.
Mattie soon became alarmed at the boy's prolonged absence.
" Eh, sirce the day ! " she sighed, " what if the wee mannie
has fa'en sound asleep up the lum ? "
" Stop a wee," said Geordie ; " I'll soon settle that ; a guid
lood roar up the lum, or a rattle wi' the poker an' tangs
shood wauken him up." But it was all to no purpose.
Various other stratagems to waken the sleeper were tried,
none of which, however, proved effectual in the remotest
degree. A candle which was lighted and held up the chim-
ney showed nothing ; and a long clothes' pole which was
inserted with much difficulty, and pushed about twelve feet
up the orifice, brought down nothing better than a loosened
bit of brick, and along with that a fresh lot of soot.
" Eh, preserve us a'," once more sighed Mattie, " the
laddie's either stuck hard an' fast in the lum, or's soond
asleep ; a bonnie pickle to be in on a Ne'er-Day mornin'."
The situation was critical, and called for instant and
effective action. Geordie's manly soul rose to the occasion.
Yes, stick-leg though he had, he would at once cast off his
coat and ascend the chimney in search of the lost laddie-
sweep.
No sooner said than done. At once off came Geordie's
coat, or rather his sleeved waistcoat, in spite of the warm
opposition of his spouse Mattie, who vainly tried to dissuade
him from the rash attempt. Having crot a cloth tied round
114 GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
his nose and mouth to keep out the sooty dust, Geordie
heroically drew an old worsted night-cowl over his ears and
prepared to ascend the chimney.
The next moment Geordie was out of sight, and, thanks
to his stick-leg, considerably up the lum.
And thanks were really due to his stick-leg in this par-
ticular instance, for by digging the point of it into the side
of the chimney next it, Geordie was able to force himself up
the perpendicular orifice with wonderful success, in view of
his stout podgy build.
For a few minutes Mattie could distinctly hear her worthy
and heroic husband warsling his way up the chimney, and
that, too, with obvious progress and success, when all at
once the scraping, rasping noise ceased, and for some minutes
thereafter she heard no sound whatever.
Something had gone wrong.
Half-way up the vent a narrow twist in the buiid of the
chimney occurred, and in trying to wedge himself through this
contracted aperture the heroic rescuer had stuck hard and fast.
Here was a terrible dilemma for Mattie. Her guidman
stuck in the lum ! It was awful to think of it. What
but the very blackest misluck could she expect to happen
durin^ a year that had begun with such a dire misfortune ?
" Geordie, my dear man, are ye there ? " she cried up the
chimney as loudly as she could.
" I'm here, Mattie, there's no a doot o' that, as I ken to
my cost," the husband cried back.
" Come doon this vera minute, an' let the sweep's laddie
jist hing there, like a weel-singit sheep's heid, if he'll no
wauken. We're no responsible for the deil's bairns ; come
doon the lum this vera minute, Geordie."
" 1 canna ; I'm stuck hard an' fast here, like a cockle on
the rocks," the imprisoned husband cried back.
M attic's worst fears were now clearly and terribly realised.
Her man was stuck fast in the bend o' the lum, and the
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM. 115
former catastrophe was now doubled in the intensest
degree.
" Eh, sirce the day," she half sighed and half sobbed out,
" what am I to dae ava' — my man up the lum, an' no a
grown-up bodie but my lee lane in the hoose ? It's the doctor,
or the minister that's wanted here ; but o' the twa I think
I'll fetch the doctor."
Having thus expectorated her grief and alarm, Mattie
suddenly threw a small chackit shawl over her head, and
prepared to run off for help.
" Mattie," she heard the imprisoned man cry after her,
" whaur are ye settin' aff tae ? "
" I'm gaun to bring the doctor to ye."
" The doctor, Mattie ? the doctor ? "
" An' what for no ? The measles, the chin-cough, or the
chicken-pox are each bad enough, but a man up the lum is
a case for even a College professor, no to speak o' a common
doctor. Keep quate, an' haud ye there ; I'll be back \vi'
auld Donald Ross, the Calton herbalist, in twa minutes."
This said, Mattie wheeled about and set off for needed help.
It was no joke for poor Geordie Shuttle, his fixture " up
the lum," however much it looked like broad laughter on
the face of it.
The situation was, indeed, an extremely trying one, apart
from its rich and most laughable farce. Had Geordie been
able to continue the ascent of the chimney he would have
gone on and on, no doubt, till he met daylight at the top
of the chimney, and then come down by the hole in the roof,
as he had, in fact, vainly tried to do.
But further progress up the chimney seemed impossible,
in spite of both his resolution and his stick-leg ! On the
other hand, a return downwards proved quite as futile every
time he freshly attempted it. In fact, so much was this the
case that Geordie, poor man, was forced to the conclusion
that one of the two alternatives was certain — either the
11G GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
" lum " was closing in on him, or he (Geordie Shuttle) was
fast swelling in his breeks ! Dreadful, terrible thought !
Meantime, Mattie had reached auld Donald Ross's door,
and explained things as they were.
" Toots, toots ! " replied the once famed old herbalist, " it's
no ta toctor ta poor man needs ; it's ta mason. I cood gie
her booels a wrocht weel enough, but it's ta mason-man tat's
needed to tak' doon ta hoose an' shoost howk ta poor man
oot ; you'll teuk goot notiss an' opserve that, my dear
woman."
" Tak' doon the hoose!" exclaimed Mattie in astonishment.
" Mercy me ! will it be necessary to tak' doon a haill twa-
storey tenement before my man can be gotten oot the lum ?
I'll jist rin across an' tell auld Dr. Sawbanes, wha keeps
the three bier red, creen, an ' blue-coloured bottles in his
window. He'll advise me better, I hope."
Thus resolved, Mattie was soon in the presence of old
Dr. Sawbones, who had just opened his shop-door, the morn-
ing being yet young, and to whom she addressed herself in
the following terms : —
" Come awa' across this minute, doctor, an' see what ye
can dae for, my man."
" What's the maitter wi' your man, Mrs. Shuttle ? "
" I'll leave you to find that out, doctor, as it's fully mair
than I can tell. But o' this I'm fell sure: he's in a sair
enough fix this moment, an' if ye can bring him safe oot o'
his bit trouble, the price o' yer veesit '11 no be grudged
by me."
Thus adjured, the worthy Dr. Sawbones took up his hat
and stick, and at once left his shop in company with Mattie.
" Has he been long ill ? " the doctor asked, as they stepped
out.
" Only within this last quarter o' an hour," cautiously
answered Mattie, who did not wish to spoil her case, as
before, with a too literal explanation of the odd affair.
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM. 117
" An' he's really bad, then ? " repeated the doctor.
" There ! ye can judge for yersel', " said Mattie, as she
flung open the door, and pushed the worthy old medical
man in before her.
" Whaur's the patient, Mrs. Shuttle ? " questioned the
doctor, looking in the empty bed and round the apartment
in blank astonishment.
" Up the lum," promptly answered Mattie, " an' if ye can
bring him safe doon on the noor-heid I'se no grudge yer fee."
" What ! Is he wrang in the heid ? " asked the doctor in
a cautious undertone.
" He's a' wrang thegither, I fear, doctor, heid an' heels.
The fact is, he's stuck hard an' fast in the lum, an' can
neither win up nor doon, an' what tae dae, I kenna. Ye
see, this is how the thing happen't: "
Here Mattie entered on a brief statement of what had
led up to the accident, to which the worthy old medical
listened with great apparent interest, not unmixed with a
stronof sense of the ludicrous.
The doctor was both amazed and amused, and very natur-
ally guessed the affair to be a Ne'er-Day morning frolic
arising out of a too free use of the dram.
" Is this a joke, Mrs. Shuttle ? " he asked, " or is Geordie
really up the chimney ? I fail to see any trace of him in
the vent," he added, having suddenly popped his spectacled
forehead well under the smoke-board for a sight of the im-
prisoned man. " In any case," he further said, " I fear I
can do nothing for him." And with this, he turned to
depart, thinking, doubtless, that this being New-Year's
morning the dram had taken the decent woman's head.
" Can ye no gang up the lum a yaird or twa an' lance
him?" sincerely put in Mattie. "Ye see he's swalt a bit,
an' wants lettin' oot. Gang up the lum, doctor, an' stick
the lance intil him. He'll pap doon at yer feet like a shot
doo, ye'll see."
118 GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
At this there was instantly heard an excited fizzlin' up
the chimney, which made the worthy auld medical cock his
twa ears in astonishment, and presently a voice — the
veritable voice of auld Geordie Shuttle — was heard faintly
crying doon the lum —
" Od, Mattie, if I was yince safe again on the floor-heid
I'd lance ye ! Jist let the doctor try that saut trick on me
an' he'll smartly answer for manslaughter at the next Circuit
Court sittings, if there's ony law left in Scotland. It's auld
Pate Barrowman, the mason's man, that's wanted here — he
could lowse a brick an' let me nicely doon if ony man cood.
Sen' alang for Pate, wi' my compliments, Mattie, if ye'd ever
see me in life again."
Old Sawbones, the local apothecary, was amazed. There
was now no doubt about the reality of the accident, whether
it had originated in frolic or otherwise. A human being
was certainly imprisoned in the chimney, and that human
being was none other than worthy old Geordie Shuttle, one
of the doocest and best known of East-End wabsters.
" It's clearly a case for the mason's man," acceded the
homely old medical, putting past his spectacles with great
formality.
" Then I'll hae him here in a vera few minutes, if he's in
the toon, an's able to balance himsel' on his twa feet ; for
this, ye're aware, is Ne'er-Day mornin', an' Pate, ye ken, is
no jist strict teetotal."
This said, Mattie at once set off for auld Pate Barrowman,
the mason's man, with whom she returned in less than five
minutes, bringing also along with her the journeyman
" sweep," whom she had met outside on the way back.
His sable majesty — i.e., the journeyman sweep, was
greatly concerned and amused to learn of the comic
mishap, and almost laughed outright when he confessed to
Mattie that his apprentice, the wee " I urn-climber," was safe
out of the vent, and down on the streets half-an-hour ago,
GEORDIE SHUTTLE Ur THE LUM. 119
having emerged on the roof, a not uncommon procedure,
and afterwards joined him (the master sweep) by getting
down the stairhead hatch in the ordinary course.
A consultation was immediately held as to what should
be done.
" Will the haill hoose need to be taken doon, Pate ? "
Mattie promptly asked the mason's man.
" No, the hoose 'ill no exactly need to come doon, but —
the man will."
" Unless the doctor lances him that'll never happen, I
fear," sighed Mattie.
Poor Geordie heard Mattie's fresh allusion to the doctor's
lance with great agitation and alarm.
" If," he cried down the chimney, "if the doctor daurs to
approach my posterior quarters wi' an open lance, I'll ca' a
hole in his cocoa-nut wi' the pint o' my stick-leg, if I shood
openly hingfor't at the Jail Square."
At this interesting juncture in stepped Johnny Paste-
Brush, a local bill-sticker.
On being apprised of the peculiar nature of the novel
accident, the bill-sticker's fine artistic eyes flashed forth
obvious excitement. At the same time he attempted to
enunciate a long-drawn monosyllabic whistle, which ended
unsuccessfully, Johnny being too far gone on the Ne'er-Day
mornin' " squeal " to find sufficient wind for it.
"What a subject for an illustrated bill!" he at length
exclaimed. " Talk aboot the boo-man below the bed ! It's
nothing to the adventurous weaver up the lum ! It's a new
and interesting reading of the cork in the bottle, and I fear
we'll have to break the bottle to get the auld cork oot! "
" Eh, me ! " once more sighed Mattie, " the haill hoose 'ill
need to come doon yet I see ! "
" Pit that bill-stickin' rascal oot!" the imprisoned man cried
down the chimney as loudly as he could. " He's stark mad."
" Failing the breaking of the bottle," continued the half-
120 GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM.
fou bill-sticker, intent to give his old friend and cronie a
sufficient Koland for his Oliver, " failing the suggested pull-
ing down of the house, there's only two alternatives left —
the ' sweep ' must either get on the roof an' punch Geordie
doon the lum wi' his heavy lead wecht, or ye maun get a
fourpenny battle o' dry hay, Mattie, and kennle a fire wi't
below him. If he disna rise up the lum wi' that, he's a
tichter fit there than I'm willin' to believe him."
So said the humorous bill-sticker, indulging an excess of
humour attributable in part, no doubt, to the potency
of the numerous Ne'er-Day drams he had that morning
imbibed.
Poor Geordie heard the bill-sticker's ominous words, and
groaned aloud in wrath.
At this moment a succession of rasping sounds w r ere heard
up the chimney, and it was apparent to all that the im-
prisoned man was making a renewed and last and desperate
effort to extricate himself from the " bend " of the chimney in
which he was firmly caught.
In this he presently succeeded, and so suddenly, that he
lost hold of the lum sides with his two hands, and came
rumbling down to the mouth of the chimney in a sort of
confused lump, as black as a real genuine "sweep," and
twice as graphic, with dislodged masses of soot and lime
sticking all over him.
Just, however, at the very bottom of the lum, from which
his legs and a portion of his stout posterior quarters pro-
jected, Geordie again stuck fast.
It was only for a few moments, however, for Mattie and
the romantic-minded bill-sticker laid each hold of a leg,
and with a sudden, vigorous pull together, they successfully
dislodged Geordie from the twisted grup o' the lum.
" Whaur's that bill-stickin' heathen that was gaun to set
fire to me wi' the battle o' hay ? " he wildly asked on once
more recovering his feet, making his eyes flash round the
GEORDIE SHUTTLE UP THE LUM. 121
apartment, and suggestively working his sooty fists in fine
fighting style.
" He's gone, as the article of furniture goes at the
auctioneer's last call," rather smartly replied the bill-sticker,
making unsteady gyrations in the direction of the door,
in view of a speedy exit
" An' you, Mattie ! " the incensed husband added, turning
a severe eye on his spouse.
" No a word, guidman ; no a single word o' angry censure
will I hear. I'm heart-glad ye're safe doon the lum withoot
the aid o' the doctor's lance ; sae much sae that I cood fain
tak' ye in my twa loving airms, ye sweet auld doo ! " and,
suiting the action to the word, Mattie quickly threw her
arms round her man's neck and actually kissed the astonished
man "owre and ovvre again," as the lover in the song says.
A burst of hearty laughter followed the amusing act, for
Mattie — forgetful, or more likely careless, of sooty conse-
quences — took away on her lips, chin, and nose, a decided
coal-gum impression of direct collision with Geordie's soot-
smeared phiz.
" Tuts, woman," said Geordie, with a mollified smile, feel-
ing rather pleased at Mattie's loving act ; " what a bonnie
lookin' phizymahogany ye've gaed an' gi'en yersel'. A fine
lookin' countenance to bring: in the New-Year wi' ! Gans:
owre an' tak' a keek at your face in the lookin' gless, an'
syne tell me what ye think o' yersel'."
" I think a guid deal o' mysel', an' nae thanks to the
lookin' gless," replied Mattie ; " but muckle as I think o'
mysel', I think faur mair o' you, ye auld sweetie ! "
"No, no, Mattie; nae mair o' that before folk, if you
please," said Geordie, drawing away. " This, I believe, is
Ne'er-Day mornin', sae hand me owre the bottle an' glass,
for there's as muckle stoor an' dry lime in my throat
(a-chee ! a-choo !) as wad effectually manure a ten-acre
tattie field."
t. s. 9
122 SAXDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT.
With right goodwill the bottle an' glass were thereupon
handed round the house, and healths were warmly drunk,
seasoned with a solid whang o' guid curran' bun, every
person in the house — including the " sweep " and the bill-
poster — being presently on the best of social terms, and in
fine first-class good-humour and cheery spirits.
And a New Year of better luck Geordie Shuttle never
experienced in spite of the funny accident "up the lum," as
he was often heard to confess. For Mattie had twins that
same year, while he himself fell heir to a stockin' purse o'
haill twenty pounds through the death o' an eichty-year-auld
uncle in Carmunnock, a historic, auld-warld clachan about a
couple o' miles south o' the Cathkiu Braes, near Glasgow.
SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT.
In a modest little house, situated in one of the quietest
streets in the north quarter of Glasgow, lived, many years
ago, a family of Macdohalds. The household consisted of
old Sandy Macdonald, his worthy wife Janet, and their ae
dochter, Kate.
Old Mac was an industrious artisan, who had early left
his native hills, and got settled down in the busy metropolis
of the West. He was a native of Ballachulish — a small
highland hamlet adjoining the great valley of Giencoe.
Besides those mentioned, a couple of friendly lodgers
occupied between them the only spare room in the house.
The senior of the two — auld Geordie Jamieson, as he was
commonly named — was a working dyer to trade, and a
bachelor of well-nigh three-score years. He was simplicity
personified, and committed himself in speech at times with
an unstudied freedom and innocence which was quite
delicious in its way. Geordie was sometimes wise, and
SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT. 123
even witty, in his rejoinders, when teased on his mental
softness, like so many reputed half-wits.
" Geordie, ye're crackit in the heid," a bench-mate once
said to him.
" Maybe that's true," answered Geordie, " but there's
whiles a wee bit blinkie o' licht shines thro' the crack."
"If I Mas to offer ye your choice o'-half-a- croon, or half-a-
sovereign," said another, " I'm no deid sure if ye'd ken which
to tak',' Geordie?"
" Weel, in that case," said Geordie, " I wadna be greedy —
I'd tak' the wee yin."
The other lodger — Archie Macpherson by name — was a
manly young city tradesman, who was supposed by all the
guidwives on the stairhead to be " saft" on young Kate.
Archie was a young man of few words, but of deep and
solid feeling, and when his betrothed bride fell ill, and took
to her bed one foggy November night, complaining of a bad
headache and a shiver in her blood, he had a strange mis-
giving that his dream of matrimonial felicity would never
be realised in the person of Kate Macdonald. The sick girl
grew hourly worse. The doctor was sent for. He came,
looked grave, said little, and went away. Next day he
looked in again, shook his head, whispered something in old
Janet's ear which brought the tears to her eyes, went away,
and did not return.
Next morning the dreaded fever van came whirling almost
silently, up the street through the deep-lying snow, and
drew up at the " Black Lan' Close." A few minutes after,
the ailing girl was put inside and removed to the Infirmary.
Archie Macpherson had seen the last of Kate Macdonald.
The disease which had stricken down the poor girl was
rife in the city, and the Infirmary wards were full of patients.
Inquiries after her condition were of almost daily frequency.
Her trouble was progTessing favourably they were told, and
had taken the " turn." She w r as recovering ; was convales-
124 SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT.
cent ; when a sudden relapse had set in ! A few nights of
anxiety to her friends, and Death came and placed its pallid
fingers on the tremulous lips, and changed the burning brow
to icy marble.
Two days more, and the body, wasted and wan, was taken
from the hospital and conveyed to a neighbouring cemetery.
Four long weeks had passed heavily away, and the keen
edge was wearing off the family sorrow. It was Hogmanay
eve, and the Macdonalds, impelled by old-fashioned custom,
sat round the kitchen table, along with Archie Macpherson
and his fellow-lodger, Geordie Jamieson, awaiting the dawn
of a New Year.
It was a fine, clear, cold, healthful night ; the heavens
were as blue as the sea, and as full of stars as an astronomer's
map. In the street below, riotous voices were now and
again heard, contrasting vividly with the muffled silence of
the snow-clad pavements. In the centre of the room wherein
the}' sat, stood a deal table scrubbed perfectly white, and
bienly covered with the guidwife's New-Year dainties. A
very considerable bit of " rale fine auld cheese" rested on a
china plate of antique pattern, side by side with a "bing o'
aitmeal cakes," all of " oor wife's ain bakin'." Then a second
plate groaned under the weight of a whole currant bun, of
perfectly Ben Nevis build, with great dark-ribbed ravines
on the top of it, and with big boulders of raisins exuding
from its scarred sides. Then there was also the indispens-
able New-Year's-Day " bottle," the seal of which was still
unbroken, and which would not be opened until the little
round faced wag-at-the-wa', high up in the corner yonder,
had sworn to the birth of the New-Year. The little clock,
by-the-bye, which was getting to be old, and had become
somewhat irregular in its constitutional rambles round its
daily orbit, had been set scrupulously correct with town-
time " for this night only," so that when the bells in the old
Cross steeple publicly proclaimed the birth of the New- Year,
SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT. 125
Sandy Macdonald's little round-faced clock would clear its
dusty throat and simultaneously tell the inmates of the
house a precisely similar tale.
But stay ! there you are ! Hark ! the small round faced
clock has become suddenly garrulous. Its little heart is
throbbing with excitement, and it is telling everybody in the
room, that a bright and hopeful new year has arisen on the
ruins of the old.
And see ! the whole household have taken to their feet,
and are shaking each other by the hand, and wishing for
each other heart-warming comforts and every worldly
prosperity, while old Janet, the guidwife, is busy with the
big bread-knife, making glorious cuttings from the tempting
sides of the big curran' bun. Nor is old Sandy behind-hand
with the bottle. The seal is broken heartily, and " Lang
John" comes tumbling bravely out, and presently rights
himself in the gleaming glass with a bead of stars on his brow.
" Noo, I wonder wha'U be oor first-fit ? " put in Geordie
Jamieson, when the dram had gone round the house.
"Ye needna wonder at that, Geordie," said old Janet;
"Uncle Saunders doun by at the street-fit is trysted a
fortnicht syne, an' he'll be here by-and-bye. He's been oor
lucky first-fit, ye should mind, for I dinna mind hoo lang !
Patience ! Hoo the win's rising ootside ! "
The friends looked at each other, and listened a moment
to the soughing of the newly-awakened wind, as it swept
round the gable of the old house and slammed the heavy
iron gate in the court-yard below.
Old Sandy — whose mind was constitutionally supersti-
tious, and whose feelings were rendered doubly sombre by
his recent bereavement — broke in upon the stillness of the
moment by relating in his own homely but graphic vernac-
ular, a remarkable incident which he experienced one wild
winter night in the loneliest part of the great Valley of
Glencoe.
126 SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT.
It happened when he was but a lad. He had been doing
a job for a sheep farmer on the country side somewhere,
and was returning home late o' night by way of the glen.
The winds were high ; the mists down ; and the flooded
cataracts of the glen were roaring like forest lions from the
magnificent chain of hills. He had reached the deepest
part of the great ravine, when a strange phenomenon arose
before his eyes. He was thinking of his younger
brother who had lately gone to sea, and was breathing a
fervent " God help the poor mariner on such a night as this,"
when a light cloud of mist which seemed resting on the
ground, slowly, but surely, took on a human shape, and lo !
the face and the form of his brother! but cold, pallid, and
lifeless ! The illusion was so strong and commanding, that
Macdonald rushed forward to touch him, to speak with him,
to question him. But ere he had gone a step forward, the
spectral illusion resolved itself into mist, and a sudden gust
of wind swept it swiftly away up the steep hillsides.
" Ma conscience ! " exclaimed Geordie Jamieson, " ye're
makin' me a' grue."
" And what aboot the illusion ? " interrogated young
Archie Macpherson.
" Only this," said old Sandy, " that long after, when I
received an intimation of my brother having been drowned
at sea, I reckoned up and found that the dates tallied."
"Hand owre a toothfu' o' the whisky, Mrs. Mac; my nerves,
I feel, are a' lowsed doon like a buttonless waistcoat," said
Geordie Jamieson, drawing his chair nearer the fire.
" But hey, lads ! here's auld Uncle Saunders at last."
A mysterious " chapp " had indeed come to the door, and
Geordie banged up to answer the summons.
The door was flung open, and lo ! the pallid wraith of
Kate Macdonald stood on the cold stair-head.
With a faint smile of recognition on its wan countenance,
the spectral lirst-foot passed lightly in, and Geordie Jamie-
SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT. 127
sod, dumbfoundered out of all ordinary rationality, flew down
the old wooden stair and exploded his terror and surprise
in the ear of Lucky Dow, an old maiden body who kept
house on the ground flat of the building.
Now old Lucky, who was afflicted with a sore deafness,
noticed not the demonstrative entrance of Geordie Jamieson,
as she sat by the weel-happit fire awaiting the entrance of
the traditional first-foot. Her astonishment was therefore
all the greater when she turned her head and saw the scared
look of her " first-foot."
Extending her ear towards her visitor for a word of
explanation, Geordie caught her head between his hands
and cried " ben " her lug —
" Kate Macdonald's wraith's on the stair-heid ! "
" What, ye're sufferin' frae a sair heid, are ye? So am I,"
answered deaf old Lucky Dow.
" Kate Macdonald's wraith's on the stair-heid, I'm saying,"
Geordie cried ben her ear for the second time.
Lucky looked at the speaker dubiously, and making him
understand, by a testy shake of the head, that he wasn't
understood, she placed her hand behind her ear for a better
hearing, and
" Kate Macdonald's wraith's on the stair-heid ! " Geordie
shouted for the third time.
" Oo ay," responded Lucky, " it's geyan hard frosty weather
atweeLbut we canna look for ocht better than frost an' snaw
at this time o' the year."
" Kate Macdonald's wraith's on the stair-heid ! " Geordie
once more shouted at the extreme top of his voice.
" Weel, I'm hauden rale strong, thankee ; are ye keepin'
ocht weel yersel' ? " and honest old Lucky turned mechani-
cally round to honour her first-foot with the usual favours.
But she was too late with her kindly offering. Geordie had
vanished like a sixpenn y telegram !
" Weel, if that's no the driest and funniest first-foot I
128 SANDY MACDONALD'S FIRST-FOOT.
ever saw ! I've had my fireside first-foot ever since I had a
hoose o' my ain, an' I never was sair't that gaet before,"
and giving her mutch-strings a cynical toss, she resumed
her lonely seat by the fire.
Let us follow Geordie Jamieson. Three or four nervous
springs and he was back again on the stair-head, and had
cautiously stepped within the door.
What a sight presented itself! Archie Macpherson was
clasping Katie Macdonald's wraith in his arms, and was
covering it with happy kisses.
Kindly old Janet — Kate's loving mother — was fair greetin'
with perfect joy. Old Sandy was snapping his thumbs, and
energetically whistling out his delighted surprise. But why
enlarge ? The sequel is easily guessed, and as easily told.
Another female patient of like age and similar name had
shared the same infirmary ward with Kate Macdonald. The
other patient died, and the Macdonalds had buried the
wrong woman in mistake. Any probable difference of feature
observable in the corpse was set down to the wasting action
of the fever, and the return of Kate Macdonald from the
infirmary was an overwhelming surprise.
" And so," said old Sandy with beaming eyes, "we have
had a ' first-foot ' from the other world, an' a lucky one it's
been ; for it has given me back my dead daughter, and
Archie Macpherson his future wife."
The End.
New Books and New Editions.
NOCTES AMBROSIA ALE. By Professor John
Wilson (" Christopher North "). Popular Edition.
Post 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
In issuing a popular edition of this remarkable work, the
editor has omitted those portions which were of interest ONLY at the
time of original publication, such as matters of merely passing
interest, questions of politics and science, and other affairs that have
now passed out from that stage from which they were viewed fijiy
years ago. But there are other matters, the interest surrounding
which is as great as ever — these the editor has been careful to retain.
Especial care has also been taken zuith regard to the amusing element,
wfth which these pages will be found laden.
THE EARLY PROSE AND POETICAL WORKS
OF JOHN TAYLOR, The Water Poet, 1 580-1653.
Post 8vo. Price 5s.
A most remarkable man. His writings are highly descriptive of
the manners and customs of the period. In 16 18 he travelled on
foot from London to the Wilds of Braemar, and published an
account of the journey, entitled " The Penniless Pilgrimage.'' In
the Scottish Highlands he became the guest of the Earl of Alar at a
hunting encampment among the kills, all of which he saw and
describes.
THE LAIRD OF LOGAN : Being Anecdotes and
Tales illustrative of the wit and humour of Scotland.
Post 8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
A complete, very handsome, and the only large type edition of the
famous " Laird of Logan." This work was compiled by three very
distinguished literary Scotchmen, namely, John Donald Carrick,
William Motherwell, and Andrew Henderson, all of them authors
of works relating to Scotland. This is the only unadulterated
edition, and is here given to the public as it came direct from the
hands of the editors.
THE WILD SPORTS AND NA 'RURAL HISTORY
OF THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS. By
Charles St. John. Post 8vo. Popular Edition.
Price 4s. 6d.
One of the most interesting works published on Scottish field sports.
Its pages are devoted to the authors experience in deerstalking,
otter-hunting, salmon-fishing, grouse-shooting, as well as with all
the representatives of animal life to be found in the Highlands, such
as the eagle, wild cat, black game, owl, hawk, wild duck, wild geese,
wild swan, seal, fox, etc., etc.
NEW BOOKS
, T tatf^AND LEGENDS OF
T^ A ^^f^i^w^' Post8vo -
Price 5S " • /; , r ,vh in story and tradition. In
B^^ x ^^ ofan -
mture - nrx ^^TTmETBICAL TALES. Edited
EARLY SCOTTISH M^J< gm Price 6 s.
by DAVID LA1NG, U\~v. d spdhrtg
. wi th valuable notes by ^SoftJu book. The tales are tin teen
tales and issued the firs edlh ° n °l The Hisl0 ry of Sir Gray Stall,
% number ^Zf^.&W*!* »* *' ZW '" "?
his Three Sons" etc., ^ ^--^ CQNDITI0 NS
BRITISH TRADE; or CERTAW spY _
OF OUR ^J^k Crown 8vo. Price 4*. 6d
PROFESSOR JOHN KIR Politics » by the same author,
A companion volume to S J^ l Jf^ w ime, Rushn says :
J Z/out oj -print iJ^fffXdZ ^XffSSZi
/-, .vrr.FRA. March, io73- ____ .
r^^F^T^Anecdotal Annals
SPORTING ANECDOTES. . Bein £ u and
^Sptions, ^£*£j£^." &»t 8vo.
Gambling. Kditea uy
rwftV, ?^'i&£ *)****** coursing, fox hunt b%
««««, carding, -~r^ B y THOMAS
^ ^V/ ^Sv^^ff Pa/er Boards.
M'Crik, D.D. i jciu >
Price is. 6d. The life of Knox com-
AND NEW EDITIONS. 3
HUMOROUS READINGS FOR HOME AND
HALL. Edited by Charles B. Neville. First
Series. Price is.
Humorous and amusing Readings Jor large or small audiences,
and for the fireside. This series (the first) contains thirteen pieces,
such as "Old Dick Fogrum Getting Settled in Life," "The Bachelor
Feeling his Way," "Mr. Gingerly 's Delicate Attentions," etc., etc.
HUMOROUS READINGS FOR HOME AND
HALL. Edited by Charles B. Neville. Second
Series. Price is.
A sequel to the above. 7 he second series contains fourteen readings,
such as "Dick Doleful 's Disinterested Motives," " Ferney Fidgety
Esq., in London Lodgings," "A Philosopher Getting Married,"
etc., etc.
HUMOROUS READINGS FOR HOME AND
HALL. Edited by Charles B. Neville. Third
Series. Price is.
The concluding series of Mr. Neville's readings. This issue
contains fourteen pieces, all of a highly humorous nature, such as
"Dandy Nat's Hopes and Fears," "How Billy Muggins was
drought to Terms," " Cousin Jones's Valuable Legacy," etc., etc.
HUMOROUS READINGS FOR HOME AND
HALL. Edited by Charles B. Neville. Post
8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
The three aforementioned seties bound in one thick handsome
volume, cloth gilt. ___
THE SCOTTISH BOOK OF FAMILY AND
PRIVATE DEVOTION. By Twenty Scottish
Clergymen. Crown 8vo. Price 5s.
Morning and evening prayers for family and ft ivate use for
quarler-a-year. Week day and Sunday. Also prayers for the sick,
forms of invocation of the Divine blessing at table, etc.
ANGLING REMINISCENCES OF THE RIVE lib
AND LOCHS OF SCOTLAND. By Thomas Tod
Stoddart. Post 8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
If not the most useful, this is at least the most interesting of
all Stoddart' s angling works, of which there are three in num
her. The above is not to be confounded with " The Scottish
Angler" on the one hand, or " The Angler's Companion" on
the other, though from the same pen. The present work is
colloquial throughout, and teeming tvith the richest humour from
beginning to end.
SEW BOOKS
'aVMOBDU**** AMUSING *™X*S?£SSL
„%££?&%££.*& £eries - Paper
Covers. Price Is. ,. fifteen in number,
s u* w *?^4l r RD0CH - TH,RD
SERIES. Paper Covers. *_~ j^,,, ^^ „*
M dvtudng Saf>> "™Jfi ,. T i„ Am almr Phrenologist,
&,W» i«< "T pZ"" Coming Ho,no Fo,,\" etc., ,10.
" Fltir Palcrson the Pod, ^com^___
Fireside, cy " 1 ^^. A ,
Post 8vo. Cloth f-f^,^ ;W ,^W^
77^ tfrw aforementioned sans, bouna
volume, cloth gilt. _____ . MW ,
James Ma.dmest Advene. ?a 6d
»wied «n*/t to Court of hes»ion. volume will be
^mysteries of le<jal profure^h of
founa Ihiqhly attractive, for no J« '«»» Q " as illustrated
%Zendbl?Lo to ;ft_i*JSPW' and»«»// «-Jj2
L to t«eri/ 0/ to ^^ £ ; Poor Rent's Coroptotnl,
%£am^^JZ$£n "fk Kind's Speech," -Lord
I The Parody on JUMj ^ f Overgroggy," etc., etc.
Bannntyne* Lion, J
AND NEW EDITIONS. 5
ST. K1LDA AND THE ST. KILDIANS. By Robert
Connell. Crown 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.
"A capital book. It contains everything worth knowing
about the famous islet and its people." — The Bailie.
' ' Interesting and amusing. It includes a lively description of
the daily life of the inhabitants, the native industries of fishing,
bird catching, and the rearing of sickly sheep and cattle, and
gives a vivid picture of the Sabbatarian despotism of the Free
Church minister who rules the small population." — Saturday
Review.
THE PRAISE OF FOLLY. By Erasmus. With
Numerous Illustrations by Holbein. Post 8vo. Price
4s. 6d.
An English translation of the "Encomium Moriae" which
has always held a foremost place among the more popular of
the writings of the great scholar. This toork is probably the
most satirical production of any age. It is intensely humorous
throughout, and is entirely unique in character. This edition
also contains Holbein's illustrations, attaching to which there is
very considerable interest.
ANECDOTES OF FISH A ND FISHING. By Thomas
Boosey. Post Svo. Price 3s. 6d.
An interesting collection of anecdotes and incidents connected
with fish and fishing, arranged and classified into sections. It
deals with all varieties of British fish, their habits, different
modes of catching them, interesting incidents in connection with
their capture, and an infinite amount of angling gossip relating
to each. Considerable space is also devoted to the subject of
fishing as practised in different parts of the world.
TALES OF A SCOTTISH PARISH. By Jacob
RUDDIMAN, M.A. Post Svo. Paper Covers. Price is.
The deceased author was a person of singular beauty ^ and
originality of mind, and may well be raiiked alongside of Wilson,
Hogg, Betkune, Polio/,; and other such standard writers of Scottish
tales. The tales are nineteen in all, and comprise such as " The
Sexton," " The Unfortunate Tanner," " The Lonely llutow,
" 77ie Foreboding," etc., etc.
SCOTTISH LEGENDS. By Andrew Glass. Post
Svo. Paper Covers. Price is.
Four legends, relating chiefly to the west and south of Scotland,
entitled, "A Legend of Pot hesay Castle," " The Laird oj A itch, n-
leck's Gift," " The Cruives of Cree," " The Grey Stones of Gar-
laffin."
6 NEW BOOKS
A BANQUET OF JESTS AND MERRY TALES.
By Archie Armstrong, Court Jester to King
James I. and King Charles I., 1611-1637.
An extremely amusing work, reprinted in the original quaint
spelling of the period. In addition to the immense fund of amuse-
ment to be found in its pages, the work is highly valuable as
throwing much light on the social customs and ideas of the period.
The author experienced life in connection with all ranks and sections
of society, from his own peasant home in the north, to that of the
Court of his Sovereign.
AMUSING IRISH TALES. By William Carleton.
Post 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.
A collection of amusing and humorous tales descriptive of Irish
life and character. The distinguished author has been designated the
Sir Walter Scott of Ireland. The tales are fifteen in number, such
er,
as " The Country. Dancing Master," " The Irish Match- Mak
" The Irish Smuggler," " The Irish Seuachie," " The Country
Fiddler," etc., etc. All of them are overflowing with the richest
wit and humour.
THE WHOLE FAMILIAR COLLOQUIES OF
ERASMUS. Translated by Nathan Bailey.
Demy 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
A complete and inexpensive edition of the great booh of
amusement of the sixteenth century. Probably no other work
so truly and intensely depicts the life and notions of our fore-
fathers 350 years ago, as does this inimical production of the
great Erasmus.
There are 62 dialogues in all, and an immense variety of
subjects are dealt with, such as " Benefice- Hunting," "The
Soldier and the Carthusian," " The Franciscans," " The
Apparition," " The Beggar's Dialogue," " The Religious Pil-
grimage," " The Sermon," " The Parliament of Women,"
etc. , etc. The whole work is richly characteristic, and is full
of the richest humour and satire.
AMUSING PROSE CHAP BOOKS, CHIEFLY OF
LAST CENTURY. Edited by Robert Hays
Cunningham. Post 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
A collection of interesting prose chap books of former times,
forming a good representative of the people's earliest popular
literature, such as " 'The Comical History of the King ana the
Cobbler," " 7 he Merry Tales of the Wise Men of Gotham," "'The
Merry Conceits of Tom Long, the Carrier " " The Pleasant History
of Poor Robin, the Merry Saddler of Walden," etc., etc.
AND NEW EDITIONS. 7
THE DANCE OF DEATH: Illustrated in Forty- Eight
Plates. By John Holbein. Demy 8vo. Price 5s.
A handsome and inexpensive edition of the great Holbein's
most popular production. It contains the whole forty-eight
plates, with letterpress description of each plate, the }>late and
the description in each case being on separate pages, facing
each other. The first edition was issued in 1530, and since
then innumerable impressions have been issued, but mostly in an
expensive form, and unattainable by the general public.
THE LITERARY HISTORY OF GLASGOW. By
W. J. Duncan. Quarto. Price 12s. 6d. net. Printed
for Subscribers and Private Circulation.
This volume forms one of the volumes issued by the Maitland
Club, and was originally published in 1SS1. This edition is a
verbatim et literatim reprint, and is limited to 350 copies, with
an appendix additional containing extra matter of considerable
importance, not in the original work.
The booh is chiefly devoted to giving an account of the greatest
of Scottish printers, namely, the Foulises, and furnishes a list
of the books they printed, as likewise of the sculptures and
paintings which they so largely produced.
GOLFIA NA MISCELLANEA. Being a Collection of
Interesting Monographs on the Royal and A neient
Game of Golf. Edited by James Lindsay Stewart.
Post 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
A collection of interesting productions, prose and verse, on or
relating to, the game of golf, by various authors both old and
recent. Nothing has been allowed into the collection excepi
works of merit and real interest. Many of the works are now
extremely scarce and, in a separate form, command very high
prices. It contains twenty -three separate productions of a great
variety of character— historical, descriptive, practical, poetical,
humorous, biographical, etc.
THE BARDS OF THE BIBLE. By George Gilfillan.
Seventh Edition. Post 8vo. Price 5s.
The most popular of the writings of the late Rev. Dr.
Gilfillan. The author, in his preface, states that the object of
the book was chiefly a prose poem or hymn in honour of the
poetry and the poets of the Bible. It deals with the poetical
side of the inspired word, and takes up the separate port:
in chronological order.
8 NEW BOOKS
ONE HUNDRED ROMANCES OF REAL LIFE. By
Leigh Hunt. Post 8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
A handsome edition of Leigh Hunt's famous collection of
romances of real life, now scarce in a complete form. The
present issue is complete, containing as it does the entire hundred
as issued by the author. All being incidents from real life, the
interest attaching to the volume is not of an ordinary character.
The romances relate to all grades of society, and are entirely
various in circumstance, each one being separate and distinct in
itself.
UNIQUE TRADITIONS CHIEFLY OF THE WEST
AND SOUTH OF SCOTLAND. By John Gordon
Barbour. Post 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
A collection of interesting local and popular traditions
gathered orally by the author in his wanderings over the
West and South of Scotland. The author narrates in this
volume, thirty-five separate incidental traditions in narrative
form, connected with places or individuals, all of a nature to
interest the general Scottish reader, such as " The Red Comyn's
Castle," "The Coves of Barholm," "The Rafters of Kirk
Alloway," " Cumstone Castle," " Tlie Origin of Loch Catriue,"
etc., etc.
MODERN ANECDOTES: A Treasury of Wise and
Witty Sayings of the last Hundred Years. Edited,
with Notes, by W. Davenport Adams. Crown 8vo.
Price 3s. 6d.
The Anecdotes are all authenticated and are classed into
Sections — /. Men of Society. II. Lawyers and the Law. III.
Mm of Letters. IV. Plays and Players. V. Statesmen and
Politicians. VI. The Church awl Clergy. V 11. People in
General.
In compiling a work like this, Mr. Adams has steadily kept
in view the necessity of ministering to the requirements of those
who will not read anecdotes unless they have reason to know
that they are really good. On this principle the entire editorial
work has been executed. The book is also a particidaily
handsome one as regards printing, paper, ami binding.
THE LITURGY OF JOHN KNOX: As received by
the Church of Scotland in 1564. Crown 8vo. Price 5s.
A beautifully printed edition of the Book of Common Order,
more popularly known as the Liturgy of Jolin Knox. This is
the only modern edition in which the original quaint spelling is
retained. In this and other respects the old style is strictly
reproduced, so that the work remains exactly as used by our
forefathers three hundred years ago.
AND NEW EDITIONS. 9
THE GABERLUNZIE'S WALLET. By James
Ballantine. Third edition. Cr. 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.
A most interesting historical tale of the period of the Pre-
tenders, and containing a very large number of favourite songs
and ballads, illustrative of the tastes and life of the people at
that time. Also containing numerous facetious illustrations by
Alexander A. Ritchie.
THE WOLFE OF BADENOCH. A Historical Romance
of the Fourteenth Century. By Sir Thomas Dick
Lauder. Complete unabridged edition. Thick Crown
8vo. Price 6s.
This most interesting romance has been frequently described as
equal in interest to any of Sir Walter Scott's historical tales. This
is a complete unabridged edition, and is uniform with " Highland
Legends " and " Talcs of the Highlands," by the same author. As
several abridged editions of the work have been published, especial
attention is drawn to the fact that the above edition is complete.
THE LIVES OF THE PLAYERS. By John Galt, Esq.
Post Svo. Price 5s.
Interesting accounts of the lives of distinguished actors, such as
Betterton, Gibber, Farquhar, Garrick, Fontc, Macklin, Murphy,
Kembte, Siddons, <fcc, dsc. After the style of Johnson's "Lives of
the Poets."
KAY'S EDINBURGH PORTRAITS. A Series of Aneo-
dotal Biographies, chiefly of Scotchmen. Mostly written
by James Paterson. And edited by James Maidmknt,
Esq. Popular Edition. 2 Vols., Post Svo. Price 12s.
A popular edition of this famous work, which, from its exceedingly
Hah price, has hitherto been out of the reach of the general public.
This edition contains all the reading matter that is of general interest;
it also contains eighty illustrations.
THE RELIGIOUS ANECDOTES OF SCOTLAND.
Edited by William Adamson, D.D. Thick Post Svo.
Price os.
A voluminous collection of purely religious anecdotes relating to
Scotland and Scotchmen, and illustrative of the more serious side of
the life of the people. The anecdotes are chiefly in connection with
distinguished Scottish clergymen and laymen, such as Rutherford,
Macleod, Guthrie, Shirra, Lcighton, the Erslcmcs. h„„.r
M'Cric, Eadie, Brown, Irving, Chalmers. Lamon,Mtlne, M < hcync,
&c, (L-c. The anecdotes are serious and religious purely, and not
at all of tlie ordinary witty description.
10 NEW BOOKS
DATS OF DEER STALKING in the Scottish Hi?h
lands, including an account of the Nature and Habits
of the Red Deer, a description of the Scottish Forests,
and Historical Notes on the earlier Field Sports of
Scotland. With Highland Legends, Superstitions,
Folk-Lore, and Tales of Poachers and Freebooters.
By William Scrope. Illustrated by Sir Edwin and
Charles Landseer. Demy 8vo. Price 12s. 6d.
" The best book of sporting adventures with which we are
acquainted. " — Athenaeum.
" Of this noble diversion we owe the first satisfactory descrip-
tion to the pen of an English gentleman of high birth and exten-
sive fortune, whose many amiable and elegant personal qualities
have been commemorated in the diary of Sir Walter Scott." —
London Quarterly Review. ,
DA YS AND NIGHTS OF SALMON FISHING in
the River Tweed. By William Scrofe. Illustrated
by Sir David Wilkie, Sir Edwin Landseer, Charles
Landseer, William Simson, and Edward Cooke.
Demy 8vo. Price 12s. 6d.
" Mr. Scrope' s book has done for salmon fishing what its pre-
decessor performed for deerstalking." — London Quarterly
Rkview.
" Mr. Scrope conveys to us in an agreeable and lively manner
the results of his more than twenty years' experience in our great
Border river. . . . The work is enlivened by the narration oj
numerous angling adventures, which bring out with force and
spirit the essential character of the sport in question. . . . Mr.
Scrope is a skilful author as well as an experienced angler. It
does not fall to the lot of all men to handle with equal dexterity,
the brush, the pen, and the rod, to say nothing of the rifle, still
less of the leister under cloud of night." — Blackwood's Maga-
7.1 NE. ,
THE FIELD SPORTS OF THE NORTH OF EUROPE.
A Narrative of Angling, Hunting, and Shooting in
Sweden and Norway. By Captain L. Lloyd. New
edition. Enlarged and revised. Demy 8vo. Price 9s.
" The chase seems for years to have been his ruling passion,
Mini to have made him a perfect model of perpetual motion. We
admire Mr. Lloyd. He is a sportsman far above the common
run." — Blackwood's Magazine.
" This is a very entertaining work and written, moreonr, in
an agreeable and modest spirit. We strongly recommend it, as
containing much instruction and more amusement. — Atii en.eum.
AND NEW EDITIONS. \\
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIBRARIES OF GLAS-
GO W. A Bibliographical Study. By Thomas Mason.
Demy 8vo. Price 12s. 6d. net.
A strictly Bibliographical work dealing with the subject of rare
am! interesting works, and in that respect describing three of the
public and thirteen of the -private libraries of Glasgow. All of
especial interest.
THE LIFE OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. By
John D. Carrick. Fourth and cheaper edition.
Royal 8vo. Price 2s. 6d.
The best life of the great Scottish hero. Contains much valu-
able and interesting matter regarding the history of that histori-
cally important period.
THE HISTORY OF THE PROVINCE OF MORAY.
By Lachlan Shaw. New and Enlarged Edition,
3 Vols., Demy 8vo. Price 30s.
The Standard History of the old geographical division termed
the Province of Moray, comprising the Counties of Elgin and
Nairn, the greater part of the County of Inverness, and a por-
tion of the County of Banff. Cosmo Innes pronounced this to
be the best local history of any part of Scotland.
HIGHLAND LEGENDS. By Sir Thomas Dick
Lauder. Crown 8vo. Price 6s.
Historical Legends descriptive of Clan and Highland Lift
and Incident informer times.
TALES OF THE HIGHLANDS. By Sir Thomas
Dick Lauder. Crown 8vo. Price 6s.
Uniform with and similar in character to the preceding,
though entirely different tales. The two are companion volumes.
AN ACCOUNT OF THE GREAT MORAY FLOODS
IN 1829. By Sir Thomas Dick Lauder. Demy
8vo., with 64 Plates and Portrait. Fourth Edition.
Price 8s. 6d.
A most interesting work, containing numerous etchings by the
Author. In addition to the main feature of the book, it contains
much historical and legendary matter relating to the district-
through which the River Spey runs.
12 NEW BOOKS
OLD SCOTTISH CUSTOMS : Local and General. By E.
J. Guthrie. Crown 8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
Gives an interesting account of ofd local and general Scottish
customs, 7ioiu rapidly being lost sight of.
A HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE BELIEF IN
WITCHCRAFT IN SCOTLAND. By Charles
Kirkpatrick Sharpe. Crown 8vo. Price 4s. 6d.
Gives a chronological account of Witchcraft incidents in Scot-
land from the earliest period, in a racy, attractive style. And
likewise contains an interesting Bibliography of Scottish books on
Witchcraft.
"Sharpe was well qualified to gossip about these topics." —
Saturday Review.
"Mr. Sharpe has arranged all the striking and important
phenomena associated icith the belief in Apparitions and Witch-
craft. An extensive appendix, with a list of books on Witchcraft
in Scotland, and a useful index, render this edition of Mr.
Sharpe: 's ivork all the more valuable." — Glasgow Herald.
TALES OF THE SCOTTISH PEASANTRY. By
Alexander and John Bethune. With Biography
of the Authors by John Ingram, F.S. A.Scot. Post
8vo. Price 3s. 6d'.
" It is the perfect propriety of taste, no less than the. thorough
intimacy with the subjects he treats of that gives Mr. Belhune's
book a great charm in our eyes." — Athenaeum.
" The pictures of rural life and character appear to us re-
markably true, as well as pleasing."— Chambers's Journal.
The Tales are quite out of the ordinary routine of such litera-
ture, and are universally held in peculiarly high esteem. The
following may be given as a specimen of the Contents: — "The
Deformed," "The Fate of the Fairest," " The Stranger," " The
Drunkard" "The Illegitimate," "The Cousins," «fcc, etc.
A JOURNEY TO THE WESTERN ISLANDS OF
SCO TLA ND IN 1773. By Samuel Johnson, LL.D.
Crown 8vo. Price 3s.
Written by Johnson himself, and not to be confounded loitli
Boswell's account of the same tour. Johnso?i said, that some of
his best writing is in this irork.
AND NEW EDITIONS. 13
THE HISTORY OF BURKE AND HARE AND OF
THE RESURRECTIONIST TIMES. A Fragment
from the Criminal Annals of Scotland. By George
Mac Greoor, F.S. A.Scot. With Seven Illustrations,
Demy 8vo. Price 7s. 6d.
" Mr. MacGregor has produced a book which is eminently
readable." — Journal of Jurisprudence.
" The book contains a great deal of curious information." —
Scotsman.
" He who takes up this book of an evening must be prepared
to sup full of horrors, yet the banquet is served with much oj
literary grace, and garnished with a deftness and taste which
render it palatable to a degree." — Glasgow Herald.
THE HISTORY OF GLASGOW: From the Earliest
Period to the Present Time. By George Mac Gre-
gor, F.S. A.Scot. Containing 36 Illustrations. Demy
8vo. Price 12s. 6d.
An entirely new as well as the fullest and most complete his-
tory of this prosperous city. In addition it is the first written
in chronological order. Comprising a large handsome volume
in Sixty Chapters, and extensive Appendix and Index, and
illustrated throughout with many interesting engravings and
drawings.
THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUG A L
GRAHAM, "Skellat," Bellman of Glasgow. Edited
with Notes, together with a Biographical and Biblio-
graphical Introduction, and a Sketch of the Chap
Literature of Scotland, by George Mac Gregor,
F.S. A.Scot. Impression limited to 250 copies.
2 V..ls., Demy 8vo. Price 21s.
With very trifling exceptions Graham was the only writer of
purely Scottish chap-books of a secular description, almost all
Die others circulated being reprints of English productions. Hit
writings are exceedingly facetious and highly illustrative of the
80c ia I life of the period.
SCOTTISH PROVERBS. By Andrew Henderson.
Crown 8vo. Cheaper edition. Price 2s. 6d.
A cheap edition of a book that has long held a high place in
Scottish Literature.
14 NEW BOOKS
THE BOOK OF SCOTTISH ANECDOTE: Humor-
ous, Social, Legendary, and Historical. Edited by
Alexander Hislop. Crown 8vo., pp. 768. Cheaper
edition. Price 5s.
The most comprehensive collection of Scottish Anecdotes, con-
taining about 3,000 in number.
THE BOOK OF SCOTTISH STORY: Historical,
Traditional, Legendary, Imaginative, and Humorous.
Crown 8vo., pp. 768. Cheaper edition. Price 5s.
A most interesting and varied collection by Leading Scottish
Authors.
THE BOOK OF SCOTTISH POEMS: Ancient and
Modern. Edited by J. Ross. Crown 8vo., pp. 768.
Cheaper edition. Price 5s.
Comprising a History of Scottish Poetry and Po»ts from the
earliest times. With lives of the Poets and Selections from their
Writings.
*»* These three works are uniform.
A DESCRIPTION OF THE WESTERN ISLES OF
SCOTLAND, CALLED HYBIUDES. With the
Genealogies of the Chief Clans of the Tsles. By Sir
Donald Monro, High Dean of the Isles, who
travelled through most of them in the year 1549.
Impression limited to 250 copies. Demy 8vo. Trice 5s.
This is the earliest written description of the Western Islands,
and is exceedingly quaint and interesting. In this edition all the
old curious spellings are strictly retained.
A DESCRIPTION OF THE WESTERN ISLANDS
OF SCOTLAND CIRCA 1695. By Martin Maktin.
Impression limited to 250 copies. Demy 8vo. Price
12s. 6d.
With the exception of Dean Monro's smaller work 150 years
previous, it is the earliest description of the Western Islands we
have, and is the only lengthy work on the subject before the era
of modern innovations. Martin very inter -est 'inglg describes th*
people and their ways as roe found them about 200 years ago.
AND NEW EDITIONS. 15
THE SCOTTISH POETS, RECENT AND LIVING.
By Alexander G. Murdoch. With Portraits, Post
8vo. Price 6s.
A most interesting resumed of Scottish Poetry in recent times.
Contains a biographical sketch, choice pieces, and portraits of
the recent and living Scottish Poets.
THE HUMOROUS CHAP-BOOKS OF SCOTLAND.
By John Fraser. 2 Vols., Thin Crown 8vo (all
published). Price 5s.
An interesting and racy description of the chap -hook literature
of Scotland, arid biographical sketches of the writers.
THE IIISTOR Y OF S TIRL1NCSHIRE. By William
Nimmo. 2 Vols., Demy 8vo. 3rd Edition. Price 25s.
A new edition of this standard county history, handsomely
printed, and with detailed map giving the parish boundaries
and other matters of interest.
This county has been termed the battlefield of Scotland, and
in addition to the many and important military engagements
that have taken place in this district, of all which a full account
is given, — this )>art of Scotland is of especial moment in many
other notable respects, — among ivhich particular reference may
be made to the Roman Wall, the greater part of this most
interesting object being situated within the boundaries of the
county.
A POPULAR SKETCH OF THE HISTORY OF
GLASGO W: From the Earliest Period to the Present
Time. By Andrew Wallace. Crown 8vo. Price 3s. 6d.
The only attempt to write a History of Glasgow suitable for
popular use.
THE HISTORY OF THE WESTERN HIGHLANDS
AND ISLES OF SCOTLAND, from a.d. 1493 to
a.d. 1625. With a brief introductory sketch from
a.d. 80 to a.d. 1493. By Donald Gregory. Demy
8vo. Price 12s. 6d.
Incomparably the best history of the Scottish Highlands, and
written purely from original investigation. Also contains parti-
cularly full and lengthened Contents and hvlex, respectively of
beginning and end of the volume.
16 NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS.
THE HISTORY OF A YRSHIRE. By James Paterson.
5 Vols., Crown 8vo. Price 28s. net.
The most recent and the fullest history of this exceedingly
interesting county. The work is particularly rich in the de-
parlment of Family History.
MARTYRLAND: a Historical Tale of the Covenanters.
By the Eev. Robert Simpson, D.D. Crown 8vo.
Cheaper Edition. Price 2s. 6d.
A tale illustrative of the history of the Covenanters in the
South of Scotland.
TALES OF THE COVENANTERS. By E. J.
Guthrie. Crown 8vo. Cheaper Edition. Price 2s.
6d.
A number of tales illustrative of leading incidents and char-
acters connected with the Covenanters.
PERSONAL AND FAMILY NAMES. A Popular
Monograph on the Origin and History of the Nomen-
clature of the Present and Former Times. By Harrt
Alfred Long. Demy 8vo. Price 5s.
Interesting investigations as to the origin, history, and meaning
of about 9,000 personal and family names.
THE SCOTTISH GALLO VIDIAN ENCYCLOPEDIA
of the Original, Antiquated, and Natural Curiosities
of the South of Scotland. By John Mactaggart.
Demy 8vo. Price raised to 25s. Impression limited
to 250 copies.
Contains a large amount of extremely interesting ami curioun ^
mailer relating to the South of Scotland. / . p. ^~ tL>
THE COMPLETE TALES OF THE ETTRICK
SHEPHERD (James Hogg). 2 vols., Demy 8vo.
An entirely new and complete editioti of the tales of this
popular Scottish writer.
GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON.
LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS & CO.
^ios«i%
I
%a3MNH-3\\v
S
^UIBRARYQc.
^Of-CAUFO/?^
^amjh^
%ojnvj-jo^
§
„*0KALIF(%
^AavaaiH^
AtiHJNIVERto
<TJU3NVS0^ ty
^WEUNIVER%
T O /
^UIBRARYQc.
^AHvaani^
^EUNIVERS/^
OS -
^OFCALIFOfyg, ^UN1VER%.
%a3AIN(V3V^
^10SANGFI%
f
<Til3DNVS01^ ^AINlHftV-
^•UBRARftk.
&
^QFCALIFO^ ^
^lOSANCElfjVx
^/MAINll^
^lOSANGElfr^
V 'I
^HIBRARY^
^OFCAUFO/tyv
^Aavaan^
^UIBRARY^.
^OFCAIIFO^
^AUvaaiB^
^\\EUNIVER%
%133NVSOV^
^BMVEWfc.
OCT
<&133NV-SOT^
^UIBRARYQc.
3 1 </-
^OJITVDJO^
^EUNIVER% ^clOSANCEl^
^UIBRARYQ^ <$
\oi\m$& ^a
^t-UBRARY^
\ommti$
\
^ \rr
^■UBMRYfle.
^OFCALIFO^
^Auvaaii-^ y 0Auvaan#
University ol California. Los Angeles
<5JMIVER%.
^mmm^
L 005 493 641 4
"%3AINfl-3t\V^
^EUNIVEW/^
<ttl«S0V^
^\tEUNIVER%
<tfl«S0V^
^lOSANCEl^
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
oo
%TOIHtf^
^lOSANCEl^.
%!HAIHIHft?'
xz
AA 000 675 216
s
^OF-CAUFOfr^ ^QFCAUFOJ!^
^AHvaan-# ^Awaain^
^•IIBRARY^
^OFCAIIFOJ?^
^AHviaiH^
^tllBRARYQr
^OFCAIIFOR^
y 0AUvnarB^
^•UNIVERSfc.
^OJITVDJO^ <ttl»SOY^
^UDNTO^
^lOSAHCEl^
^jaimv*
^lOSANCFl^
^SfflAWM^
^WEDNIVER%
5
<ttl33NVSOV^
^lOSANCEl^.
■Sskbawm^
^WMOTfe. wftlBRAOTO?