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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a2702cc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64219 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64219) diff --git a/old/64219-0.txt b/old/64219-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 24da2ae..0000000 --- a/old/64219-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11730 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Collected Writings of Dougal Graham, -"Skellat" Bellman of Glasgow, Vol. 2 of 2, by Dougal Graham - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Collected Writings of Dougal Graham, "Skellat" Bellman of - Glasgow, Vol. 2 of 2 - -Author: Dougal Graham - -Editor: George MacGregor - -Release Date: January 05, 2021 [eBook #64219] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: hekula03, John Campbell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUGAL -GRAHAM, "SKELLAT" BELLMAN OF GLASGOW, VOL. 2 OF 2 *** - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. - - Footnote anchors are denoted by [number], and the footnotes have - been placed at the end of the book. - - Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book. - - - - - COLLECTED WRITINGS - - OF - - DOUGAL GRAHAM. - - - - -[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF DOUGAL GRAHAM - -_From Early Chap Book._ - - _Frontispiece to Vol. II._] - - - - - THE - - COLLECTED WRITINGS - - OF - - DOUGAL GRAHAM - - ‘SKELLAT’ BELLMAN OF GLASGOW - - - EDITED WITH NOTES - - _Together with a Biographical and Bibliographical Introduction, and - a Sketch of the Chap Literature of Scotland_ - - - BY - - GEORGE MAC GREGOR - - _Author of ‘The History of Glasgow’ and Member of the Glasgow - Archæological Society_ - - - _IN TWO VOLUMES_ - - _VOL. II._ - - - For Subscribers and Private Circulation - - GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON - MDCCCLXXXIII - - - - -CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. - - PAGE - - JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP 7 - - PART I.--_Jockey and Maggy’s Courtship as they were coming - from the market_ 9 - - PART II.--_The Wonderful Works of our John_ 15 - - PART III.--_The Wonderful Works of our John made manifest - before the Minister, &c._ 22 - - PART IV.--_How Jockey and his Mother went away to see - his bastard child, &c._ 31 - - THE VTH AND LAST PART.--_Being an Account of Jockey’s - Mother’s Death and Burial: With an Elegant Elegy - and Epitaph on that occasion--The Baptizing of his two - Children, and how he mounted the stool_ 37 - - - THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP 47 - - PART I. 49 - - PART II. 53 - - PART III. 58 - - - COMICAL TRANSACTIONS OF LOTHIAN TOM 65 - - PART I. 67 - - PART II. 70 - - PART III. 73 - - PART IV. 76 - - PART V. 79 - - PART VI. 81 - - THE PLOWMAN’S GLORY; OR, TOM’S SONG 84 - - - HISTORY OF JOHN CHEAP THE CHAPMAN 87 - - PREFACE 89 - - PART I. 89 - - PART II. 96 - - PART III. 102 - - - LEPER THE TAYLOR 109 - - PART I. 111 - - PART II. 118 - - - THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE TAYLOR’S FUNERAL 125 - - _The Taylor’s Last Will_ 130 - - - THE HISTORY OF HAVEREL WIVES 131 - - JANET CLINKER’S ORATION 145 - - THE COMICAL AND WITTY JOKES OF JOHN FALKIRK 155 - - THE SCOT’S PIPER’S QUERIES; OR, JOHN FALKIRK’S CARICHES 165 - - _An Account of John Falkirk, the Scots Piper_ 167 - - - THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADY FROM CORK 179 - - PART I. 181 - - PART II. 188 - - PART III. 193 - - _A New Catechism_ 199 - - _Pady’s Humble Petition, or Supplication_ 203 - - _A Creed for Romish Believers_ 204 - - - SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES 205 - - - THE ANCIENT AND MODERN HISTORY OF BUCK-HAVEN 217 - - PART I. 219 - - PART II. 225 - - PART III. 229 - - _The Minister and Mussel Mou’d Harry_ 237 - - - THE WITTY AND ENTERTAINING EXPLOITS OF GEORGE BUCHANAN 239 - - PART I. 241 - - PART II. 248 - - PART III. 256 - - PART IV. 263 - - PART V. 269 - - PART VI. 277 - - - GLOSSARY 281 - - - - -_JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP._ - - - [This chap-book was one of the most popular of Graham’s - productions. It is reprinted here from a unique copy formerly - belonging the late Dr. David Laing, and now in the possession - of George Gray, Esq. It is in five parts. The title-page bears - that it had been ‘carefully corrected and revised by the Author.’ - It was printed in 1779 by J. and J. Robertson, Glasgow, and is - perhaps the earliest copy extant.] - - - - -JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP AS THEY WERE COMING FROM THE MARKET. - - -PART I. - -Jockey. Hey Maggy, wilt thou stay and tak kent fouks hame wi’ ye -the night? - -Maggy. Wiltu come awa than Johny. I fain wad be hame or the ky come -in, our meikle Riggy is sic a rumbling royte, she rins ay thro’ the -byre, and sticks a’ the bits a couties; my mither is nae able to -had her up to her ain stake. - -Jockey. Hute, we’ll be hame in bra’ time woman: and how’s a’ your -fouks at hame? - -Maggy. Indeed I canna well tell you man, our guidame is a’ gane -wi’ the gut; my mither is very frail, my father he’s ay wandering -about, and widdling amang the beasts. - -Jockey. But dear Maggy they tell me we’re gawn to get a wedding of -thee and Andrew Merrymouth the laird’s gardener. - -Maggy. Na, na, he maun hae a brawer lass to be his wife than the -like o’ me, but auld Tammy Tailtrees was seeking me, my father wad -a haen me to tak him, but my mither wadna let, there was an odd -debate about it, my guidame wad a sticket my mither wi’ the grape, -if my father hadna chanc’d to founder her wi’ the beetle. - -Jockey. Hech woman, I think your father was a fool for fashing wi’ -him, auld slavery dufe, he wants naething of a cow but the clutes, -your guidame may tak him hersel, twa auld tottering stumps, the -tane may sair the tither fu’ well. - -Maggy. Ach man! I wad a tane thee or ony body to hane them greed -again, my father bled my guidame’s nose, and my guidame brake my -mithers thumb; the neighbours came a’ rinning in, but I had the -luck to haud my father’s hands till yence my guidame plotted him -wi’ the broe that was to mak our brose. - -Jockey. Dear Maggy, I hae something to tell you an ye wadna be -angry at it? - -Maggy. O Johnny, there’s my hand I’se no be angry at it, be what it -will. - - [Shakes hands for fear of an outcast.][1] - -Jockey. Indeed Maggy the fouk of your town and the fouk of our -town, says, we are gawn to be married: What say’st thou? - -Maggy. I wish we ne’er do war, O Johny, I dream’d o’ you lang syne, -an I liket you ay after that. - -Jockey. O Maggy! Maggy! dost thou mind since I came to your -mither’s bill, wi’ my mither’s cow, ye ken she wadna stand, and ye -helped me to haud her; ay after that they scorned me that I wad be -married on a you. - -Maggy. It’s very true man, it’ll be an odd thing an it be; but it’s -no fa’ back at my door, I assure ye. - -Jockey. Nor at mine, but my mither bad me kiss ye. - -Maggy. Indeed sall ye Johny, thou’s no want twa kisses man, ane on -every side o’ the mouth, man. - -Jockey. Ha! ha! Maggy, I’ll hae a merry night o’ kissing you -shortly. - -Maggy. Ay but Johny, you maun stay till that night come: it’s best -to keep the feast until the feast day. - -Jockey. Dinna be angry Maggy, my wife to be, but I have heard my -mither saying in her daffing that fouk sud ay try gin their house -will haud their plenishin. - -Maggy. Ay but Johny, a wife is ae thing, an a house anither, a man -that’s a mind to marry a woman he’ll no mak her a whore. - -Jockey. It’s a’ true Maggy, but fouks may do it yence or they be -married and no hae nae ill in their minds. - -Maggy. Aha Johny, mony a are has been beguil’d wi’ yence, and do it -yence ye may do it ay, what an we get a bystart, and hae to suffer -for the foul act of fornication. - -Jockey. Ay but my mither says, if I dinna get thee wi’ bairn, I’ll -no get thee; so it’s the surest way of wooing. - -Maggy. Indeed Johny I like you better nor ony lad I see, and I sall -marry you an yence my father’s muck were out, my mither downa wirk -at the midden. - -Jockey. A Maggy, Maggy, I’m fear’d ye beguile me, an then my mither -will murder me for being so silly. - -Maggy. My jo Jockey, tell your mither to provide a’ things for the -bridal, and I sal marry you in three uks after this, but we maun -gie in siller to the Precentor, a groat an a drink to the bellman, -and then the Kirk wa’s maun hear o’t, three sunday’s or it come.[2] - -Jockey. But Maggy am no to make a blin bargain wi’ you nor nae -body, I maun ken o’ your things an ye sall ken o’ mine. - -Maggy. I ken well what I was to get, an gin my mither like the -bargain well, she’ll make it better; but an my father be angry at -the match, I darna meet you to be married. - -Jockey. I see na how he can be angry. I wat well I’m a gay sturdy -fallow, when I laid on a bow and five pecks o’ bear on the laird’s -Bawsey, an he’s as bilchy a beast as in a’ the barronry. - -Maggy. Ay but my mither is aye angry at ony body that evens -themselves to me, an it binna them she likes, indeed she bad me tak -ony body if it were na auld tottering Tammie, for his beard is ay -brown wi’ sucking tobacco, and slavers a’ the breast o’ his fecket. - -Jockey. O! Maggy tak me an I’ll tell you what I hae; first my -father left me when he died, fifty merks, twa sacks, twa pair of -sunks, the hens, an the gawn gear was to be divided between me and -my mither, and if she died first, a’ her gear was to come amang -mine, and if I died before her, a’ my gear was to come back to her -again, an her to marry anither man if she cou’d get him. But since -it’s happened sae, she is to gie me Brucky an the black mare, the -haf o’ the cogs, three spoons, four pair o’ blankets an a can’as, -she’s to big a twa bey to her ain gavel to be a dwelling house -to me an my wife, am to get the wee byre at the end o’ the raw -to haud my cow and twa couties; the haf o’ the barn an a bed o’ -the kailyard as lang as she lives, an when she dies am to pay the -earding o’ her honestly, and a’ the o’ercome is to be my ain: an by -that time I’ll be as rich as e’er my father was before me. - -Maggy. Truly Johny, I’se no say meikle to the contrair, but an ye -hae a mind to tak me wi’ what I hae, tell me either now or never, -for I’se be married or lang gae. - -Jockey. I wat weel I am courting in earnest, tell me what you hae, -an we’ll say nae mair but marry ither. - -Maggy. I’se tell you a’ I ken o’, whate’er my guidame gies ye’s get -it. - -Jockey. That’s right, I want nae mair, it’s an unko thing to marry -a naket woman and get naething but twa bair legs. - -Maggy. O Johny ye’re ay in the right o’t, for mony ane is beguil’d -and gets naething, but my father is to gie me forty pund Scots, -that night I am married, a lade of meal, a furlet of groats, auld -Crummie is mine since she was a cauf, and now she has a stirk -will tak the bill e’er beltan yet, I hae twa stane o’ good lint, -and three pockfu’s o’ tow a good cauf bed, twa bowsters and three -cods, with three pair o’ blankets, an’ a covering; forby twa pair -to spin, but my mither wadna gie me crish to them, an ye ken the -butter is dear now.[3] - -Jockey. Then farewel the night Maggy; the best o’ friends maun -part, and so maun thy twa legs yet. - -Maggy. I wish you well, Johny, but sae nae mair till we be married, -and then lad. - - Hame gaed Maggy and tell’d her Mither. - -Mag. O mither! I hae something to tell ye, but ye mauna tell my -father. - -Mither. Dear Maggy an what is that! - -Mag. Deed Mither, am gawn to be married an’ the muck were out. - -Mith. Dear Maggy an wha’s thou gawn to get, it’s no auld bubly -Tammy. - -Mag. Na, na, he’s a bra young man, and has mair gear nor ilka body -kens o’, guess an I’ll tell you, it’s Johny Bell, and his mither -sent him to the market just to court me. - -Mith. Deed Maggy ye’ll no be ill youket wi’ him, he’s a gay we’ll -gawn fallow, right spruch, amaist like an ill-far’d gentleman. Hey -guidman, do ye hear that our Maggy is gawn to be married an the -muck were out. - -Father. Na, na, I’ll no allow that until the peats be cussen and -hurl’d. - -Mag. O father it’s dangerous to delay the like o’ that, I like him, -an he likes me, it’s best to strike the iron whan it’s het. - -Fath. An wha is she gawn to get guidwife? - -Mith. An wha think ye guidman? - -Fath. A what wat I herie, an she please hersel, am pleas’d already. - -Mith. Indeed she’s gawn to get Johny Bell, as cliver a little -fallow, as in a the barronry where he bides. - -Fath. A well, a well herie, she’s yours as well as mine, gie her to -wha ye please. - -Mith. A well Maggy, I’se hae a’ things ready, an I’ll hae thee -married or this month be done. - -Mag. Thanks to ye Mither, mony a good turn ye done me, an this will -be the best, I think. - - Hame gaed Jockey to his mither, crying. - -Jock. Mither! Mither! I made it out, her mouth is sweeter na milk, -my heart plays a whiltie whaltie whan I kiss her. - -Mith. Fair fa’ thee my son Johny, thou’s gotten the geat o’t at -last, and whan is thou gawn to be married? - -Jock. Whan I like mither, but get the masons the morn, to big me my -house, for I’ll hae a’ my things in right good order. - -Mith. Thou’s want for naething, my bairn, but pusht forward as fast -as ye can. - -The wooing being o’er and the day being set, Jockey’s mither killed -the black boul horn’d yeal Ewe, that lost her lamb the last year, -three hens and a gule fitted cock, to prevent the ripples, five -pecks o’ maut masket in the meikle kirn, a pint o’ trykle to mak -it thicker an sweeter an maumier for the mouth; five pints o’ -whisky wherein was garlic and spice, for raising o’ the wind, an -the clearing o’ their water; the friends and good neighbours went -a’ wi’ John to the kirk, where Maggy chanced to meet him and was -married by the minister; the twa companies joined togither and came -hame in a croud, at every change house they chanced to pass by, -providence stopt their proceeding, with full stoups, bottles and -glasses drinking their healths, wishing them much joy, ten girls -and a boy: Jockey seeing so many wishing well to his health, coupt -up what he got, for to augment his health and gar him live long, -which afterwards coupt up him and proved detrimental to the same. - -So home they came to the dinner, where his mother presented to -them a piping het haggies, made of the creish of the black boul -horn’d Ewe, boil’d in the meikle bag, mixt with bear meal, onions, -spice and mint: this haggis being supt warm, the foaming swats and -spice in the liquor set John’s belly a bizin like a working fat, -and he playing het fit to the fidler, was suddenly seized with a -bocking and rebounding, gave his dinner such a backward ca that he -lost a’ but the grit bits scythed through his teeth; his mother -cried to spence him, and bed him wi’ the bride, his breeks being -fill’d, they washed both his hips, laid him in his bed, pale and -ghostly was his face, and closed were baith his een, ah, cries -his mither, a dismal day indeed, his brithal and his burial may -baith be on ae day: some cuist water in his face, and jagg’d him -wi’ a needle; till he began to rouze himself up, and rap out broken -words, mither, mither, whar am I now? Whar are ye my bairn says -his mither, ye’re beddet, and I’ll bring the bride to you. Beddet, -and is my brithel done ells? Ay, said she, here’s the bride come -to ly down wi’ you: na, na, said he, I’ll no ly wi that unco woman -indeed, if it binna heeds and thraws, the way that I lay wi’ my -mither; O fy dinna affront yoursel. The bride faus a crying. O -mither, mither, was this the way my father guided you the first -night? Na, na, thy father was a man o’ manners and better mettle, -poor thing Meg, thou’s caud thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny -market, says his mither, a shame fa you and her baith, he’s worthy -o’ her tho’ she were better nor what she is, or e’er will be. His -friends an her friends being a mixt multitude, some took his part -some took her’s, there a battle began in the clap of a hand, being -a very fierce tumult which ended in blood, they struck so hard with -stones, sticks, beetles, and barrow trams, pigs, pots, stoups, -trunchers, were flying like bombs and granades. - -The crook, bouls and tongs were all employed as weapons of war: -till down came the bed with a great mou of peats. So this disturbed -the treading.[4] - - -THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN. - -PART II. - -Now though all the ceremonies of Jockey and Maggy’s wedding were -ended, when they were fairly bedded before a wheen rattling unruly -witnesses, who dang down the bed aboon them; the battle still -encreased, and John’s works turned out to be very wonderful; for he -made Janet, that was his mither’s lass the last year, grow like an -Elshin shaft, and got his Maggy wi’ bairn forby. - -The hamsheughs were very great until auld uncle Rabby came into -redd them, and a sturdy auld fallow he was, stood stively wi’ a -stiff rumple, and by strength of his arms rave them sindry, flingin -the tane east and the tither west, until they stood a round about -like as many breathless forfoughen cocks, and no ane durst steer -anither for him, Jockey’s mither was driven o’re a kist, and -brogget a her hips on a round heckle, up she gat and rinning to -fell Maggy’s mither wi’ the ladle, swearing she was the mither of -a’ the mischief that happened, uncle Rabby ran in between them, he -having a great lang nose like a trumpet, she recklessly came o’er -his lobster neb a drive wi’ the ladle until the blood sprang out -and ran down his auld grey beard and hang like snuffy bubbles at -it; O! then he gaed wood, and looked as waefu like, as he had been -a tod lowrie, com’d frae worrying lambs, wi’ his bloody mouth. Wi’ -that he gets an auld flail, and rives away the supple, then drives -them a to the back o’ the door, but yet nane wan out; than wi’ -chirten and chappen, down comes the clay hallen and the hen bauk -with Rab Reid the fidler, who had crept up aside the hens for the -preservation of his fiddle. - -Ben comes the bride when she got on her coat, clappet Rabby’s -shoulder and bad him spare their lives: for their is blood enough -shed in ae night, quoth she, and that my beard can witness, quoth -he. So they a’ came in obedience to uncle Rabby, for his supple -made their pows baith saft and sair that night; but daft Maggy -Simson sat by the fire and picket banes a’ the time o’ the battle: -indeed quoth she, I think ye’re a’ fools but mysel; for I came here -to get a guid supper, and other fouk has gotten their skin we’ll -pait. - -By this time up got John the bridegroom, that was Jockey before he -was married, but could na get his breeks; yet wi’ a horse nail he -tacket his sark tail between his legs, that nane might see what -every body should hide, and rambling he cries settle ye, or I’ll -gar my uncle settle ye, and saften ye’re heads wi’ my auld supple. - -Poor Rab Reid the fidler took a sudden blast; some said he was -maw-turn’d wi’ the fa’; for he bocked up a the barley and then -gar’d the ale go like a rain bow frae him as brown as wort brose. - -The hurly burly being ended, and naething but fair words and -shaking o’ hands, which was a sure sign o’ an agreement, they began -to cow their cuttet lugs, and wash their sairs, a but Jockey’s -mither, who cries out a black end on a you and your wedding baith: -for I hae gotten a hunder holes dung in my arse wi’ the heckle -teeth. - -Jockey answers, A e’en had you wi’ them than mither, ye will een be -better sair’d. - -Up gets uncle Rabby, and auld Sandy the sutor o’ Seggyhole, and -put every thing in order; they prappet up the bed wi’ a rake -and rippling kame, the bearers being broken, they made a solid -foundation of peats, laid on the cauf bed and bowsters, where -Jockey and Maggy was beddet the second time. - -Jockey no being used to lie wi’ a naked woman, except heads and -thraws wi’ his mither, gets his twa hands about the brides neck -and his houghs out o’er her hurdies, saying, I ne’er kist wife -nor lass naked before, and for fainness I’ll bite you, I’ll bite -you, &c. Naithing mair remarkable till about haf a year and four -ukes thereafter, in comes Marion Mushet rinning barefoot and bare -legget, wi’ bleart cheeks and a watery nose, cursing and banning, -greeting and flyting. - - Marion enters. Crying, and whar’s John. - -His mither answers. Indeed he’s out in the yard powing Kail runts. - -Marion. A black end on a him and his runts baith, for he’s ruin’d -me and my bairn. - -Mith. Ruin’d you! it canna be; he never did you ill, nor said you -ill, be night or be day, what gars you say that? - -Mar. O woman! our Jenny is a’ rowing like a pack o’ woo; indeed -she’s wi’ quick bairn, and your John is the father o’t. - -Mith. Our John the father o’t! had, there enough said, lying lown, -I trow our John was ne’er guilty of sic a sinfu action: Daft woman, -I true it ill be but wind that hoves up the lasses wame; she’ll hae -drunken some sour drink like sour sowens, or rotten milk that mak’s -her sae. - -Mar. A wae be to him and his actions baith, he’s the father o’t -furnicator dog that he’s, he’s ruin’d me and my bairn; I bore her -and brought her up honestly, till she came, to you; her father died -and left me wi’ four o’ them, there wasna ane o’ them cou’d pit on -anither’s claes, or tak a louse aff ither. - -Mith. I bid you had your tongue, and no even your bystarts to my -bairn, for he’ll ne’er tak wi’t: he, poor silly lad, he wad ne’er -look to a lass, be’s to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry in o’ John, and -let’s ratify’t wi’ the auld ruddoch: ay, ye’ere no blate for saying -sae. - -Mar. Be angry, or be well pleased, I’ll say’t in a your faces, an -I’ll ca you before your betters about it or lang gae. - -John enters. An what want ye now, is our brose ready yet? - -Mith. Ay brose, black brose indeed for thee, my bairn; here Marion -Mushet saying ye hae gotten her dochter wi’ bairn. - -Jock. Me mither? I ne’er lay in a bed wi’ her dochter a my days, -it’ll be the young lairds, for a saw him kiss her at the Lammas -fair, an let glam at her nonsense. - -Mith. Ay, ay, my man Johny, that’s the way she has gotten her belly -fu’ o’ bairns; it’s no you nor the like o’ you, poor innocent lad, -that gets bystart weans: a wheen filthy lowns, every ane loups on -anither, and gies you the wyte o’ a’. - -Mar. You may say what you like about it, it’s easy to ca’ a court -whar there’s nae body to say again, but I’ll tell you a I ken -about it, and that is what she tell’t me, and you guidwife telt me -some o’t yoursel; an gin you hadna brought in Maggy wi’ her muckle -tocher atween the twa, your Jockey and my Jenny had a been man and -wife the day. - -Jock. I wat weel that’s true. - -Mith. Ye filthy dog at ye are, are ye gaun to confess wi’ a -bystart; and it no yours: dinna I ken as well as she do wha’s aught -it? - -Jock. Ay but mither, we may deny as we like about it, but I doubt -it come to my door at last. - -Mith. Ye silly sumff and senseless fallow, had ye been knuckle deep -wi’ the dirty drab, ye might a said sae, but ye telt me lang syne -that ye cou’d na lo’e her, she was so lazy and lown like; besides -her crooket fit and bow’d legs. - -Jock. Ay but mither, do ye mind since ye sent me out to gie her -the parting kiss, at the black hole o’ the peet stack; she rave -the button frae my breeks, and wad gar me do’t; and bad me do’t, -and cou’d flesh and blood refuse to do’t; I’m sure mither, I cou’d -ne’er get her wi’ bairn an my breeks on. - -Mith. Na, na, poor simple silly lad, the wean’s no yours, ilk ane -loups on of anither, and you’ll get the wyte o’ a bytarts round -about. - -Up gets Maggy wi’ a rore, and rives her hair, cries her back, -belly, and baith her sides; the weed and gut gaes thro’ my flesh -like lang needles, nails or elshin irons. Wae be ti’ the day that -e’er I saw his face, I had better married a tinkler, or a followed -the sogers, as mony an honest man’s dochter has done, and liv’d a -better life than I do. - -Up gets Jockey and rins o’er the rigs, for John Roger’s wife, auld -Katty the howdy, but or he wan back she parted wi’ patrick thro’ -perfect spite, and then lay twa fauld o’er a stool in a swoon. - -Jock. A well, a well, sirs, since my first born is dead without -seeing the light o’ the warld; ye’s a get bread an cheese to the -blyth meat, the thing we shou’d a war’d on the banket will sair the -burial, and that will ay be some advantage: an Maggy should die, I -maun een tak Jenny, the tane is as far a length as the tither: I’se -be furnisht wi’ a wife between the twa. - -But Maggy turn’d better the next day, and was able to muck the -byre; yet there gead sic a tittle tattling thro’ the town every -auld wife tell’t anither o’t, and a’ the light hippet hussies that -rins between towns at een, tugging at their tow rocks, spread it -round the kintry; and every body’s mouth was filled wi’ Jockey and -Jenny, and how Maggy had parted wi’ bairn. - -At last Mess John Hill hears of the horrid action, and sends the -elder of that quarter and Clinkem Bell[5] the grave maker, to -summon Jockey and Jenny to the session, and to see how the stool -of repentance wad set them,[6] no sooner had they entered the door -but Maggy fa’s a greeting, and wringing her hands; Jockey’s mither -fell a fliting, and he himself a rubbing his lugs, and riving his -hair, saying, O gin I were but a half ell higher, I sud be a soger -or it be lang, and gie me a good flail or a corn fork, I sud kill -Frenchman enew, before I gaed to face yon flyting ministers, an be -set up like a warlds wonder, on their cock-stool or black stool[7] -an wha can bide the shame, whan every body looks to them, wi’ their -sacken sarks or gowns on them,[8] like a piece of an auld canvass -prickt about a body, for naething, but what every body does -amaist, or they be married as well as me. - -Mith. My man Johny, ye’re no the first that has done it, an ye’ll -no be the last; een mony o’ the ministers has done it themselves, -hout ay, your father and I did it mony a time. - -Mag. Ay, ay, and that gars your son be so good o’t as he is: the -thing that is bred in the flesh is ill to pit out o’ the bane. - -Mith. Daft woman what way could the warld stand, if fouks wadna -make use o’ ither, it’s the thing that’s natural, bairns getting, -therefore it’s no to be scunnert at. - -Mag. Ay, ay, but an they be for the like o’ that, they should marry. - -Mith. But I think there’s little ill tho’ they try it yence or -twice or they be married; it’s an unco thing till a body to be -bound to a business, if they dinna ken whether they be able for it -or no. - -Mag. Ay, ay, that’s your way o’ doing and his, but its no the way -o’ ither honest fouk; see what the minister will say to it. - -Mith. The minister is but a mortal man, and there’s defections in -his members as well as mine. - -Mag. Ay, but fouk should ay strive to mortify their members. - -Mith. An is that your Whigry? Will you or any body else, wi’ your -mortifying o’ your members, prevent what’s to come to pass? I wish -I saw the minister an his elders, but I’se gie him scripture for -a he’s done yet: tell na me about the mortifying o’ members, gin -he hae gotten a bystart let her and him feed it between them an -they sud gie’t soup about: but she maun keep it the first quarter, -an be that time muckle black lady ’ill be cauft, we sall sell the -cauf an foster the wean on the cow’s milk: That’s better mense -for a fault, than a’ your mortifying o’ your members, and a’ your -repenting-stools; a wheen papist rites an rotten ceremonies, -fashing fouks wi’ sack gowns and buttock-males,[9] an I dinna ken -what, but bide you yet till I see the minister.[10] - - -THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN MADE MANIFEST BEFORE THE MINISTER, -&c. - -PART III. - -Now Jockey and his mither went into the little byre, and held a -private meeting, nane present but auld bruckie, and the two brutes -the bits a couties. - -Mith. Ye silly dog, an he be drown’d to you, how cou’d ye confess -sae muckle to maeslie shanket Marion, altho’ she be her mither. - -Jock. O mither, mither, say nae mair about it, my ain wand has -dung me dourly; sadly have I suffered for that, and ye ken a’ the -misery’s com’d o’er our Maggy, my mouth’s the mither o’t, sae ha’d -your tongue I tell you now. - -Mith. An tell ye me to ha’d my tongue, an ye had a hauden your -tongue and your tail, an a done as I bade you, ye hadna hane sae -muckle ado the day daft silly dog it thou is. - -Jock. Mither, mither, gies nane o’ your mocks nor malice, for tho’ -I got the wean, ye hae as muckle the wyte o’t as I Gae seek me out -my three new sarks, an Sunday’s shune, an I’se gae whar ne’er man -saw my face before, neither wood, water nor wilderness, sall haud -me again. - -Mith. My braw man Johny, ye mauna do that, stay at hame wi’ me, and -set a stout heart till a stay brae, I’se gae to the session wi’ -you, gang whan ye like. - -Jock. A well mither, I sall do your bidden for ance yet, but whan -the minister flytes on me, answer ye him, for I canna speak well -again. - -Mith. Say nae mair, I hae a pokfu’ o’ perfect petitions to louse -an put to him an his elders, and if thou maun gae to their -black-stool, it’s no be thy lane sall sit upon’t. - -Jock. But mither, whether will I deny the doing o’t or confess the -game was at the getting o’t? - -Mith. Ay, ay, confess ye did it, but say but ance, and that it was -on the terms of marriage, the way that a’ our kintry bystarts is -gotten.[11] - -Now Jockey being three times summon’d to the session and did not -appear, the session insisted for a warrant from the justice of -the peace,[12] which was readily granted, more for diversion than -justice’ sake, the warrant being given to John King the constable, -who went away with Clinkem Bell on Saturday’s morning, and catch’d -John just at his breakfast, hauls him awa, ane at ilka oxter like -twa butcher dogs hinging at a bull’s beard, his mother followed, -driving him up with good counsels, my bra’ man Johny, haud up your -head, dinna think shame, for a’ your fauts is but perfect honey, -you’re neither a thief, whore nor horse stealer. - -Then Maggy ran for uncle Rabby, an uncle Rabby sent to Sandy the -Souter of Seggyhole, the Souter saddled his mare, and uncle Rabby -got aff at the gallop on his gray powney west the hags, an o’er by -Whitehill shough, the nearest, and was at Sir James the justices -lang or John was brought into judgment. - -John enters, before the justice, with a red, red face, Goode’en -Mr. Justice, Sir James, an’t please your honour ye manna put me in -prison, for am no malefactor, but a poor honest kintry-man, that -was born in an ill planet, my mither says’t I had the ill luck of -a misfortune to fa’ foul wi’ furnication, and got my mither’s lass -wi’ bairn the last year, and they’re gawn to father’t on me the -year again. - -The justice smiling, answer’d, indeed John I think it is but very -just and reasonable that ye be accountable this year for your last -years labours. - -Jock. Ay, ay, sir, I have laboured very sair since my father died, -but our plough canna get gaun for frost this four days. - -Just. Ay but John, that’s no what I mean, it’s the child ye got -last year, ye must be answerable for this. - -Jock. A deed stir, there was twa o’ them, but there is ane o’ them -dead. - -Just. A well then John you’ll have the more to give the one that’s -alive. - -Jock. Oh! but stir, it’s my ain wean that’s dead, the ane I got wi’ -my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no. - -Just. Yours or no sir, when ye told me ye got it; if ye should get -it wi’ a beggar wife at the back of a dike what is that to the -purpose, when it is of your getting you must maintain it. - -Jock. O! yes stir, am no refusing to gie meat and meal to -maintain’t; but my mither winna let me to the black-stool. - -Just. Why not go to the black-stool, when guilty of such an action -as deserves it, if you have any reasons why you should not go, -argument it in session and clear yourself if you can. - -John’s mother enters, and addresses herself to the servant lass, -thinking she was the justice’s lady. - -Indeed mistress madam, if ye were a kintry good-wife, like mysel, -I could tell you a’ about it, but you that’s gentiles, I canna use -freedom wi you, cause I hae na Latin. But waes me we that’s poor -fouk is born to mony fealins and backwart faus, this lad is my son, -an am his mither, he has had the foul fortune to get a bystart -bairn, nae doubt but we hae been a’ guilty o’ as muckle and ne’er a -word about it, a what say ye madam? - -Off goes the lass, saying, Foul fa’ the wife, for I was never -guilty o’t. - -Just. Well goodwife, what is the reason but ye let your son give -satisfaction to the kirk? - -Mith. Deed stir, he’s no denying the bairn, but he’ll no hae the -black-stool. - -Just. Ay, but I tell you, them that gets a bystart, gets the -black-stool to the bargain, and as he is in my hands now, he must -find caution that he will answer the session and be subject to the -law. - -Mith. Ony thing ye like, stir, but that shamfu’ stance, the black -stool, here’s uncle Rabby, and auld Sandy the Sutor, will be -caution that we’s face the session on Sunday, the lad’s wae enough -he did it, but he canna help it now, the weans born and by hand; -Sae goodnight wi’ your honour’s ladyship it’s the first time e’er I -was before you. - -On Sabbath after sermon the session met, John and his mother is -call’d upon, he enters courageously, saying, Good-een to you Master -Minister, bellman and elders a’, my mither and me is both here. - -Mess John. Then let her in, come awa goodwife, What’s the reason -you keep your son so long back from answering the session? you see -it is the thing you are obliged to do at last. - -Mith. Deed stir, I think there needs na be nae mair wark about it, -I think when he’s gien the lazy hulke, the mither o’t, baith meal -and groats[13] to maintan’t, ye need na fash him, he’s a dutifu’ -father indeed, weel a wat, whan he feeds his bystart sae weel. - -Mess John. Woman are you a hearer of the gospel? that ye reject -the dictates of it, how come you to despise the discipline of the -church? Is not offenders to be rebuked and chastised? - -Mith. Yes stir, a’ that is very true, but I hae been three or four -times through the Bible, and the New Testament, and I never saw a -repenting stool in’t a’; then whar cou’d the first o’ them come -frae, the Apostles had nane o’ them. But a daft history book tells -me, that the first o’ them was used about Rome amang the Papists, -and ay whan ony o’ them turn’d Whigs, they were put on a four -neuked thing, like a yarn winnle blades, and rave a’ their gouls -sindry till they turn’d Papists again: and then for anger they put -them on a black stane or stool, in the mids o’ the kirk, and the -seck goun about them, wi’ the picture o’ the de’il and Satan on’t, -a sweet be wi’ us, we sudna speak o’ the ill thief in the kirk, -but it is a mercy the minister’s here an’ he come, but that was -the original of your repenting stools, and whan the whigs chas’d -awa the Papist fouk out o’ this kintry, they left a wheen o’ their -religious pictures, and the stool o’ repentance was amangst the -spoil, but yese no get my bairn to set upon a thing as hich as a -hen bawk, and ilka body to be glowring at him.[14] - -Mess John. Woman I told you formerly that any who refuses -submission to the government of the church, is liable to -excommunication: and that we are to put the law in execution -against adultery and fornication, or the sin thereof, lies partly -on our head. - -Mith. As for your sin of adultery, I have naething ado wi’t; I ken -my son is a fornicator, and ye can neither mak him better nor war -nor he is, there’s nae man can keep a standing in their ain hand, -fortune I mean, if it be a sin let him confess’t, and forsake it, -and wi’s pay the buttock-mail and mak nae mair about it. - -Mess John. Goodwife you need not think your son will pass so, -more than others that has been before him, he must actually come -before the congregation three sabbaths before he be absolved from -the scandal, and get the benefit of any church privileges like any -other honest man. - -Mith. Indeed Mess John, my son will never set his hips upon’t; if -he maun come before you, I’se gar him stand a bit a back frae’t -and hear what ye hae to say about fornication, twa harmless free -bodies, passing their trials to see what they can do, ye that’s -whigs may mak enough o’t, but I think na muckle about it. - -Mess John. Woman you may go home and see what ye have to do; ye -have a very bad tongue: it’s no you we are to take account of. - -Mith. Ay, ay, ye that’s ministers and modest fouk may say sae, but -if my son had tane as good tent o’ his tail, as I can do o’ my -tongue, there had na been sae muckle about it, a wheen silly loons -kens na what they were made for, or how to guide a thing whan they -get it. - -Mess John. Put her out, she’s going to speak baudy. - -Mith. O ay, stir, I’se gang out, but I’ll hae my bairn out wi’ me. - -Mess John. We must first ask some few questions at him, there is no -harm can come on him here. - -Mith. For as good company as you think yourselves, I wad rather hae -him in anither place. - - John’s kept in and his mother put out. - -Mess John. Well John, you must tell us whether this child was -gotten before ye was married, or since: for I suppose by the time -of the birth it is much about the same time. - -Jock. Hout ay, stir, it was gotten lang or I was married, I need na -forget the getting, it was na sae easy to me. - -Mess John. How long is it since ye was first acquaint? - -Jock. Just when she came to be my mither’s lass, I never saw her -but ance before, and gin I had never seen her, I had never kend her -in sic a fashious fashion. - -Mess John. How long was she serving with your mother. - -Jock. Just twa hail-yerts: and I got her wi bairn about a year -after she came, and its no a year yet since I was married. - -Mess John. Dear John there is a contradiction indeed, a woman -cannot go two years with child. - -Jock. Deed stir, it was then the wean was first gotten. - -Mess John. A John, John, I find you out to be a sinful liver, you -and that woman has had carnal dealings for some time; it is ill -keeping the cow out of the corn, if she once got a way of going to -it, ye should actually a married the poor woman, when ye cohabited -so long together. - -Jock. No stir, we didna cow habit, tho’ she kist me, and I kist -her, sometimes in the barn, and sometimes in the byre: nane ken’t -o’t but my mither, an’ she wadna let me tak her, but sent me awa to -court our Maggy. - -His mother cries through the hole o’ the door: A ye senseless -sumph, is that a’ the thanks I get for counselling you to do weel, -war na me ye wad a been married on a lownlike leepet lazy lump, who -had neither wit nor wyles, no say much judgment as wyfe the wind -frae her tail but lute it gang afore fouks. - -Up gets the elders crying, Fy, fy, Duncan the bell-man drive that -wicked wife frae the door she disturbs us all. - -Duncan runs to the door whispering, shame fa you for a wife had out -o’ that: but I wad rather hear you, as hear them yet. - -Mess John. Now John will you be so plain as tell me whether ye -promist to marry the woman or no, when ye lay with her. - -Jock. Na stir, I didna lie wi’ her, for the herd and me lay in the -byre-bed, and she lay in the little lang sadle at the hallen end. - -Mess John. It is all one whether ye lay with her or not, when ye -have got her with child, that’s what ye confess. - -Jock. I kenna whither I got her wi’ bairn or no: but I did wi’ her -as I did wi’ our Maggy, when she fell wi’ bairn. - -Mess John. But the question is, whether or no, did you promise to -marry her when that child was gotten? - -Jock. Hut, tut, stir, ye wad fash fouk spiering a’ thing, it was -her that promist to marry me for the getting o’t. - -Mess John. And did not you do the like to her? - -Jock. A what needed I do the like when she and my mither did it a’ -but the wean getting, she could na do that. - -Mess John. Indeed John you seem to have been a parcel of loose -livers altogether. - -Jock. A loose stir, I wish I were loose yet, better be loose than -bun to an ill stake. - -Mess. John. I see it is needless for me to enquire any further -into the matter, I find you out guilty, therefore, you must appear -publicly on the stool of repentance on Sabbath next, and the two -following thereafter, or ye be absolved from the scandal. - -Jock. Indeed master minister, am very easy about repentance, and -for your stool, its a seat am very indifferent about, for am but -bashful, and as I was never guilty o’ getting bystarts, either -before or sin syne, except in thoughts, words, deeds and actions, -I think ye may een let me pass, I suffered enough wi’ the clash o’ -the kintry, and loss o’ my ain wain, it was nae bystart, ye canna -gar me stand for that. - -Mess John. You appear to be such a stupid fellow, the like of you -should neither have lawful child or bastard, and I admire that -such an ideot as you, was allowed to be married to any woman; and -you James, who is the elder of that proportion, should have given -information of this man’s capacity, before he was joined to a -wife.[15] - -Elder. Indeed sir, ye ken very well, he answered the questions at -the examine, better nor any other fouks, and I think he is best -married, for he might a gotten mae bystarts and fasht us. - -Jock. Indeed stir, it’s very true, for when ance I got the gate o’ -women, I cou’d na bide aff them, but our Maggy was unco cunnen, she -wad na let me do naething but kiss her and kittle her till ance we -was married. - -Mess John. I’ll ask no more questions at him: call on his mother, -(in she comes,) Goodwife, we have ordered your son to appear -three Sabbaths on the stool an’ there to be reproved before the -congregation publicly an’ be absolved from the scandal. - -Mother. Than the ill thief be in his a--se Mess John, gin e’er he -set his hips upon’t, my bairn on your black stool? and wadna’t be -a great blunder on the auld black face o’t, to my son to gang on’t -before the young laird, who has had twa bystarts and ne’er set a -hip on’t yet, and he’s continually riding on the hussies to this -day, and them that wadna let him, he rives their duds, and kicks -their doups. A dear Mess John, an ye gie gentle fouk a toleration -to whore, to fornicate, kiss an’ kuddle a wee, wi’ ilka body they -like, I’ll gie you ten marks and gie’t to me and my son too. - -Mess John. And what shall we do with these odious persons? - -Elders. Indeed, sir, we see not what we can make of them. - -Mess. John. Make of them, we’ll exclude them from all church -benefit, and lay them under the lesser excommunication.[16] - -Mith. Indeed stir, tak your mind o’t as our cat did o’ the haggies, -when she sippit it a’, and crap in o’ the bag. - -If ye winna christen the wean, ye canna hinder us to cast a cogfu’ -o’ water on the face o’t, and ca’t ony thing we like. - -So out she goes shooting Jockey before her, so John went and pisht -on the auld minister’s widow’s gavel, and there was nae mair about -it that day. - - -HOW JOCKEY AND HIS MOTHER WENT AWAY TO SEE HIS BASTARD CHILD, &c. - -PART IV. - -Now Jockey and his mither came hame together, cheek for chow -cracking like twa hand guns. - -Moth. I trow I have fought a battle this day, and win the field -condingly, whan I hae conquer’d a’ the canker’d carles about the -kirk. - -Jock. Indeed mither I think ye are a better man nor the minister, -and gin ye had Arithmattock and Latin, to ken the kittle figures -you may preach as well as he. - -Moth. I true Jock lad their black stool o’ sham repentance ne’er -got sic a rattle as I hae gient the day. - -Jock. Na, na, mither, a’ the whoremongers that ever set a hip on’t -kens na sae muckle about the auld foundation o’t as ye do. - -Moth. But Johny man, an’ thou wad start in the morning, the first -o’ the daft days,[17] and that’s on Munday, ye an’ I wad go and see -the daft jade, Jenny the mither o’t. - -Jock. Wi’ a’ my heart mither, but wi maun giet something an’ it -were an auld servet, or an auld sark to keep the hips o’t warm, -young weans is ay wet about the a--se ye ken. - -Moth. A well then Johny, I’se cry to thee whan the hens begin to -keckle, and that’s about the break o’ day, an’ wees be ready to tak -the road again Torryburn day light, whan weel ken a turd by a stane. - -Up gets auld Maggy, Jocks mither in the morning, puts on the -kettle, and maks her Yool sowens, the meikle pot hung on the fire -a’ night wi’ the cheek of an auld cows head, skims aff the fat an’ -mak’s a great cog o’ brose, then pours on a chappen o’ clean creish -like oil, which made a brave sappy breakfast for Jockey and his -mither, and Maggy got the cog to scart. - -The brose being done and a’ thing ready, he halters the black -mare, lays on the sunks and a covering, fine furniture for a -country wife.[18] - -Jockey mounts, and his mother behind him, trots awa, till coming -down the brae abune John Davie’s well; the auld beast being unfiery -o’ the feet, she fundred before, the girth and curple brake, Jockey -tumbled o’er her lugs, and his mother out o’er him in the well wi’ -a slung. - -Jock. Ay, ay, mither, tho’ I fell ye needna faun abune me, an’ gin -ye had lyne whar ye lighted first, ye wadna tumbl’d into the well; -its an unco thing that a body canna get a fa’ but ye maun fa’ abune -them: auld ruddoch it thou is, thou might a hauden better by the -rumple, an’ ye wadna a bruised a my back wi’ your auld hard banes, -nor a wat a’ yoursel say, and see how ye hae drummel’d a John -Davie’s well. - -Moth. Hech quo she, I wonder gin I be kill’d, thou always was wont -to get the word of a good rider, baith upon hussies and horses, an’ -this be thy management thou’s little worth; fel’d the auld beans it -bore thee! sic a bath as I hae gotten to my Yool, thou coudna gien -me a war bed nor a water hole in a cauld frosty morning: wae be to -thee an’ that ill gotten gett o’ thine, O! let never better bounty -be gotten wi’ bystarts getting, an’ this is so much for the fruits -o’ fornication, a war stance nor the black-stool yet. - -Jock. Let’s a be now wi’ your auld taunts about bystarts getting, -or I’se gie you the wind o’ the mare’s tail, an’ gar you wammel -hame an’ a’ your wate coats about you. - -Moth. Na, na, my man Johny, haud the auld jade till I loup on, we -came together, and wi’s gang together, wi sall see thy bystart and -its mither or wi gae hame. - -Jock. Wi’ a’ my heart mither, but yonder the house an’ the hens -on’t, the lums reeking rairly, but little ken they wha’s coming. - -At length they came to Jenny’s mother’s door. - - In goes his mother and in goes his mare, - Himself follows after, cries how’s a’ here? - -Moth. Hech, is that poor body in her bed yet? - - Her mother answers, - -Well a wat she’s in her bed, an’ cauld cauld, and comfourtless is -her lying; bystarts getting is just like lent gear, seldom or ever -weel paid back again; but my poor lassie coudna done war nor she’s -done, O! gin she had yielded her body to some bit herd laddie, he -wad a seen her lang or now. - -Moth. A dear Marrion what wad ye be at? Do ye think that our John -wha has a wife o’ his ain, cou’d come an’ wait on her as she were -a dame o’ honour, or yet an honest man’s wife, poor silly lown it -she is, an’ he had thought on what he was com’d o’ he wad ne’er a -offer’d benevolence to the like o’ her. - -Mar. An’ ye had been as great an instrogater against his making -her double ribbet, as ye’re now against doing her justice, for the -filthy jimcrack he’s gien her, ye wadna need to ca’ her silly lown -the day, an him an honest man; but the ne’er an honest man wad a -hoddl’d sae lang on a ae poor hussie an’ then gane awa an a married -anither for love of a pickle auld clouts, and twa three pock-fou’s -o’ tow: an she is but a silly lown indeed that lute him or ony -rattle-scul else, shake their tail so lang upon her, without his -faith, an’ his troth, an’ his fist before the minister. - -Moth. A cauld be your cast kimmer, do ye think it your dadeling -daughter’s a match fit for my son John; I think less may sair, her -father was but a poor cotter carle, an’ our John’s father was a -farmer, an’ its but a trick o’ youth, an’ the course of youdeth -maun be out; but she may thank good fortune an’ tell her friends -ay, an’ count it a credit that ever she bore a bystart to the like -o’ him; a good fu fat farmer’s son, but ae laigher nor a laird. - -Mar. A wae be to sic a credit it’s no worth the cracking o’, an’ -whar was a’ his noble equals whan he bute to lay a leg on a my poor -lassie, poor clarty clukny it thou is? an’ if they warna baith -ae man’s mak I wad think naething o’t; for they warna a needle o’ -differ between their dadies an’ what war they baith but twa sticket -taylors at the best? ye had as good a gane hame an’ a counted -bow-kail stocks, as to come here to count kindred wi’ me. - -Jock. Hout awa daft witless wives, I kenna what you’re flyting -about, I wad rather see the wean gin it be ony thing wally and like -the warld. - -Mar. Indeed sall ye John, you’ll see your ain picture for little -siller, a muckle mouth’t haverel it is just like yoursel. - - The child is presented. - -Jock. Mither, mither, it has a muckle mouth just like mine, an’ -sees wi’ baith ot’s een, an bit five days auld yet. - -Moth. Dear Johny thou’s no wise man, wad tu hae the wean to be -blin, the poor thing saw whan it was new born. - -Jock. A what ken I mither, am no sae weel skill’d as the howdies, -an’ them that’s ay hobbling weans: but I thought they had a been -like the wee bit’s a whalpies, nine nights auld before they had -seen ony. - -Moth. Awa, awa, ye witless widdyfu’, comparing a beast till a -woman’s ain bairnie: a dog is a brute beast, an’ a wean is a -chrisen’d creature. - -Jock. Na mither, its no a chrisen’d creature yet, for hit has -neither gotten the words nor the water, nor as little do I ken how -to ca’t yet. - -Mar. I wat well it’s a very uncanny thing to keep about a house, or -yet t’ meet in a morning, a body wanting a name.[19] - -Moth. Hout tout ay, ye it’s auld wives is ay fu o’ frits an’ -religious fashions, them that looks to frits, frits follows them, -but it is six and thirty years since I was a married wife, an’ I -never kend a sabbath day by a nither ane, mony a time till the bell -rang. - -Mar. Dear guidwife what needs ye speak so loud? ye fright the wean -wi’ crying sae, see as it starts. - -Moth. Ay, ay, the bystarts is a’ that way, but ken ye the reason o’ -that? - -Mar. Ye that kens the reason of everything may soon find out that -too. - -Moth. A deed than woman I’ll tell you, the merry begotten weans, -its bystarts I mean, is red wood, half wittet hillocket sort o’ -creatures: for an it be nae ane among twenty o’ them, they’re a’ -scar’d o’ the getting, for there’s few o’ them gotten in beds like -honest fouk’s bairns; but in out-houses, auld barns, backs o’ -dikes, and kil-loggies; whar there’s ay somebody wandering to scar -poor needfu’ persons, at their job of journay-wark: for weel ken I -the gaits o’t, experience gars me speak. - -Jock. A deed mither that’s very true, for whan I was getting that -wean at the black hole o’ the peat stack, John Gammel’s muckle -Colly came in behind us wi’ a bow wow, of a great goul just abune -my buttocks; an’ as I’m a sinner, he gart me loup laveruck height, -an’ yet wi got a wean for a’ that. - -Moth. A weel than Johnny that mak’s my words good yet. - -Jenny answers out o’ the bed. A shame fa your fashions ye hae nae -muckle to keep whan ye tell how it was gotten, or what was at the -getting o’t. - -Jock. A shame fa yoursel Jenny, for I hae gotten my part o’ the -shame else, an’ gin ye hadna tell’d first there wad nane kend, -for nae body saw us but John Gammel’s auld colly an’ he’s no a -sufficient witness. - -Mar. Now guidwife amang a’ your tales ye hae tell’d me, how is this -wean to be maintain’d? - -Moth. Ill chance on your auld black mouth Marrion, did I not send -you my guid sprittled hen, a pund of butter and a sixpence, forby -a libby o’ groats an’ a furlat o’ meal; mak her a guid cogfu’ o’ -brose, an’ put a knoist o’ butter in them, to fill up the hole whar -the lown came out, an’ I’ll send mair or that be done. - -Mar. An it be na better nor the last ye may een keep it to your -sell; your groat meal, and gray meal, sand dust and seeds, course -enough to feed cocks an’ hens, besides a woman in her condition. - -Moth. A foul be your gabs, ye’re a sae gash o’ your gabbies; a -whine fools that stives up your gutses wi’ guid meat, to gar the -worms turn wanton and wallop in your wames; feed yourselves as I -do, wi’ hacket kail brose, made o’ groat meal, an’ gray meal, sand, -seeds, dust an’ weak shilling, ony thing is good enough to fill the -guts an’ make a t--d of. - -Jock. Na, na, mither an’ the wean wad suck our Maggy, I sud take it -hame in my oxter. - -Moth. O ye fool, Maggy’s milk is a mould salt and sapless lang -syne; but I trow she wad keb at it, as the black ew did at the -white ews lamb the last year, sae speak nae mair o’ Maggy’s milk, -no to compare a cat to a creature, the yeal cats is never kind to -kitlens, an’ the maiden’s bairns is a’ unco weel bred. - -Jock. Na, na, ye’re a’ mistane mither, Maggy has milk yet for every -pap she has is like a burn pig, I’se warrand ye they’ll haud pints -the piece. - -Moth. My man Johny let them keep the wean, that has the wean, we’ll -never miss a pockfu’ of meal now and tan, I wadna hae my bed pisht -and blankets rotten for a bow o’ the best o’t. - -Jock. O mither! I canna lea’t I like it say weel it has twa bonny -glancing een, just like mine in a keeking glass, I wonner how I was -able to get the like o’t, indeed mither I think mare o’ it, nor I -do o’ my gray horse, Maggy an’ the four ky. - -Moth. My man Johnny ye’re at nae strait about bairns getting, nane -needs to gang to London to learn that auld trade; I ken very weel -when ane gets warklums right to their hand, nature will teach them -how to fa’ to. - -Jock. Now fare ye weel Janet, that wean is weel worth the -warkmanship, I’ll warrand ye weel a wat ist. - -Jenny. Guidnight wi’ you John, but O man thou’s broken my fortune, -I’ll never get mair o’ a man nor I hae gotten, an’ dear, dear, hae -I suffer’d for what I hae done, an’ if thou had a bestowed thyself -on a me, ye see what a bonny bairn time we had a hane. - -Moth. Thou says it thou’s suffer’d sadly for what thou’s done, but -though they wad take the hide o’er thy een holes it wadna tak the -inclination out o’ thee; for thou’ll do’t again, but it’s no wi my -bairn I’se warrand thee, an’ now Johnny come awa hame to thy hauf -marrow an’ use thy freedom as formerly, thou’ll hae weans thick -and three fauld; I’se make thee a decoction of cock stanes, lamb -stanes, an’ chicken broe, will gar thee cock thy tail like a mevies -an’ canter like a Galloway toop. - - -THE VTH AND LAST PART. - - _Being an Account of Jockeys Mother’s Death and Burial: With an - Elegant Elegy and Epitaph on that occasion--The Baptizing of his - two Children, and how he mounted the stool._ - -As Jockey and his mither came hobbling hame together on the out -side of the auld doil’d beast his mither’s black mare; a waefu’ -misfortune befel them;--Her hinderlets being wickedly wet, in John -Davie’s well that morning, and it being a frosty night, her coats -was a’ frozen round about her and the hard harn sark plaid clash -between her legs like a wet dish clout, her teeth gaed like a -rattle bag till almost haf gate hame, then she was suddenly seiz’d -wi’ a rumbling in her muckle bag, what we kintry fouks ca’s a rush -i’ the guts; Jockey was fash’d helping her aff and helping her on, -foul, fat and dirty was the road, having like half a T----d as ever -tadder length. - -Jock. Deed mither, I doubt death has something to do wi’ you, for -there’s a rumbling in a your wame like an auld wife kirning. - -Mith. Hout tout I canna hear o’t, but they’ll be na fear o’ me now, -I’m safe at my ain door, thanks to thee an’ the auld beast it -brought me; heat my feet wi’ the bannock stane, an’ lay me in my -bed, fling four pair o’ blankets an’ a cann’os on me, I’ll be weel -enough an’ ance I were better, swieth Maggy gae mak me a cogfu’ o’ -milk brose, an’ a placks worth o’ spice in them, nae fear of an -auld wife as lang as she’s loose behin, an can tak meat. - -Jock. I’se be’t mither, a e’en fill up the boss o’ your belly, -you’ll stand to the storm the better, I’se warran ye never die as -lang as you can tak your meat. - -Ben comes Maggy wi’ the brose; but four soups an’ a slag filled her -to the teeth, till she began to bock them back again, and ding awa -the dish. - -Jock. A mither, mither I dout there’s mair ado wi’ you nor a dish -to lick: whan ye refuse guide milk meat, I’m doubtfu’ your mouth be -gaun to the mules. - -Mith. A dear Johnny am no willin to die if I could do better: but -this will be a sair winter, on auld frail fouks, yet an’ I wou’d -grow better I might live these twenty years yet, an’ be nae auld -wife for a’ that: but alake a day there is e’en mony auld fouk -dying this year. - -Jock. A deed mither there is fouks dying the year that never died -before. - -Mith. Dear Johnny wilt thou bring me the doctor he may do me some -guide, for an my heart warna sick an’ my head sae sair, I think I -may grow better yet. - -Jock. A weel mither, I’se bring the doctor, the minister, an’ my -uncle. - -Mith. Na, na, bring nae ministers to me, his dry cracks ’ll do me -but little guid, I dinna want to see his powder’d pow, an’ I in sic -an ill condition; get me a pint o’ drams in the muckle bottle, an’ -set in the bole in the back side o’ my bed. - -Jock. A deed mither ye’re in the right o’t, for ye want to be weel -warm’d within; to chace the call wind an’ frosty water out at your -back side. - -Then awa he rins to draff Meg’s at the Kirktown, an’ brings a -bottle in every hand, out wi’ the cork an’ gies her ane in o’er, -she sets it to her gab an’ squattles up a mutchkin at a waught, -which was like to wirry her till she fell a rifting and roaring -like an auld blunder-bush. - -Mith. Hech hay, co’ she, but that maks an alteration and wears awa -the wind. - -Wi’ that her head fell to the cod and she sughte awa, like a very -saint or drunken sinner. - -Jock. O! Maggy, Maggy, my mither’s lost her breath, (she’ll no live -lang without it,) I doubt she be dead already, and nae body seen -her but ye and I and oursels twa; an’ she had been fair o’er seen -it maksna, I’ll no ha’d this a fair strae death indeed, fy Maggy, -cry in a’ the neighbours to see her die, although she be dead. O -an’ she wad but shake her fit, or wag her muckle tae, it wad ay -be some satisfaction:[20] but in came the neighbours in a hush, -dinging ither down in the door. - -Jock. Come awa sirs, for my mither’s as dead as a mauk, good be -thanket for’t; but I’d rather it had a been the black mare, or the -muckle rigget cow, for weel a wat I’ll een miss her, for she was a -bra spinner o’ tow; an’ cou’d a cardet to twa muckle wheels, she -had nae faut but ane an that was her tongue, but she’ll speak nae -mair, fy gets a dale or a barn door to straught her on, for ay whan -she was cauld she was unco kankert an’ ill to curch, but I’se hae -her yerdet on Wednesday teen. - -Come, come, says Maggy, wi maun hae her drest. - -Jock. What does the fool mean? wad ye dress a dead woman, she’ll -never gang to kirk nor market a’ her days again. - -Mag. A dear John be at ease, ye ken she mauna be buried as she is, -a sark and winding sheet is the least she can get. - -Jock. Ah ha Maggy is that what you mean, she has a guid new windin -sheet, it was never about her shoulders yet,[21] say Maggy do’t a’ -yoursell, and I’se gar clinkem Bell misure the grave and mak it. - -Now when they brought out the corps John told the people they were -welcome, to haud in a cheek o’ his auld mither wast the gate; and -being laid right on the spakes,[22] ha! ha! quoth he, this is a -braw honestly indeed, its mair boukie nor my bridal was, but when -they came to the grave, it was o’er short and strait about the -mouth, which set John in a great passion, saying a foul fa your -naughty fashions master bell man, did not I packshon wi’ you for -the bried o’ my mither’s back and the length o’ her carkage? an’ -this hole winna haud her thou’s get nae mair o’ my change if I sude -die the morn. - -Uncle Rabbie. Whisht, whisht, stir, this sude be a day o’ mourning -for your mither, dinna flyte here. - -Jock. What the vengeance uncle, sudna fouks die when they’re auld? -an’ am to pay for a hole and get but haf a hole; that’s the thing -that vexes me, but I’se keep twopence out o’ his trencher for’t, -an’ se will I een; but gang ye hame uncle to get cog and cap for -the dradgey, and I’ll see her get fair play or I gae. - -Hame they came in a croud and fell to the cheese and cheeks of -leaves tuth and nail, the ale was handed about in cogs and caps, -lashing it down o’er like bletchers watering their webs; John -blutter’d in the cog like a cow in warm water, till the barm and -bubbles came belling out at his nose, saying, a guide health to -you a round about, an shoon and shortly may wi a gang the gate may -mither’s gane, an’ I wish them a burying amang the dogs that speaks -against it.[23] - -About eight and twenty weeks thereafter Maggy had a wally weame fu -of weans to bear, an’ ay whan she cryed, John cryed, which made a’ -the kimmers and auld Katty the howdie laugh heartily to hear them. - -Katty. Here now John, your wife’s brought to bed wi’ a bra lad -bairn, gie him your blessing. - -Jock. Well I wat he’s no want that, but an’ there had a been -samuckle din at the getting o’ him, as at the bearing o’ him, it -sude ne’er a been gotten for me: Come, come, gets in uncle Rabbie, -the com riddle fu’ of the three nucket scons, whang down the cheese -like peats, eat and drink[24] as at my mither’s dradgey, till wi -forget our sorrow, and then weel see Mess John about a name till -him; since wi see its the way o’t, that the young comes into the -warld and chases out the auld, wi maun chrisen them, and they maun -bury us. - -Now John and his uncle goes to the minister, he enters, saying, -guideen to you Mr. Minister ye dinna ken my mither’s dead? - -Minister. Yes John I heard so: but how is your wife? - -Jock. My wife stir a wae worth her, for the wives o’ our town an’ I -hae gotten a waking night wi’ her; but wi hae gotten her turn’d and -still’d again, she’s born a bra wally thumping stirra, he’ll herd -the kye belyve to me an’ he had huggers on him, an’ am come to you -to get a bit name to him. - -Minister. A bit name to him John, if ye want no more but a name, ye -may gie him that yourself. - -Jock. Na but stir, I want baith the words and the water, what ye -say to ither fouks say to me. - -Minister. A but John you must give security or satisfaction, you’re -a man under scandal. - -Jock. What the muckle mischief stir, though under scandal or abune -scandal, will ye refuse to chrisen my wean that’s honestly gotten -in my ain wife’s bed beneath the blankets; caus I had a bystart, -canna ye chrisen the weel com’d ane, let the bystart stand for its -ain skaith without a name. - -Minister. No John you have been too slackly dealt with, I’ll bring -you to obedience by law, since you reject counsel. - -Jock. A deed stir, I wad think naething to stan a time or twa on’t -to please you, if there were nae body in the kirk on a uke day, but -you an’ the elders to flyte a wee on me; but its war on a Sunday, -to hae a’ body looking and laughing at me, as I had been coding the -piese, suppen the kirn, or something that’s no bonny like pissing -the bed. - -Minister. A well John never mind you these things, come ye to the -stool, its nothing when its over we cannot sae o’er much to you -about it. - -Upon Sunday thereafter John comes in with uncle Rabbies auld wide -coat, a muckle great gray lang tail’d wig and a big bonnet, which -cover’d his face, so that he seem’d more like an old Pilgrim than -a young fornicator; mounts the creepy[25] with a stiff stiff back -as he had been a man of sixty, every one looked at him, thinking -he was some old stranger who knew not the stool of repentance by -another seat, so that he passed the first day unknown but to very -few, yet or the second it came to be known, that the whole parish -and many more came to see him; which caused such a confusion that -he was absolved, and got his children baptized the next day. - -But there happened a tullie between the twa mother’s who would have -both their names to be Johns, a weel, a weel says old John their -father to the minister, deed stir ye maun ca’ the tean John an’ the -tither Jock, and that will please baith these enemies o’ mankind. - -Minister. A well John suppose ye do, it is still twa Johns -nevertheless. - -Jock. A deed stir, ye maun gie the wicked a’ their will, wi’s ca’ -the bystart Jockie, an’ my son Johnny Bell; On wi’t some way and -let her ca’t as she likes. - -Minister. A dear John but ye speak indifferently about this matter, -ye know not the nature of it. - -Jock. A mony thanks to you Mess John, now caus ye hae chrisend -baith my bairn and my bystart I hope you’ll forgive me the buttock -mail. - -Minister. John I desire you to be silent and to speak none here: -You must keep a straight walk in time coming, free of scandal or -offence. - -Jock. Ay stir an’ how think ye the like o’ me can wak straight wi’ -sic auld shevelin heel’d shune as mine, amang such rugh rigs, highs -an’ hows as I hae to harl through. - -Minister. I need not speak to you, you are but a poor mean ignorant -person. - -Jock. Na stir welawat am neither poor nor yet mean, my mither’s -fairly yerdet now guide be thanket, and left a’ she had to Maggy -and me. - -Minister. But hear ye this John, ye must not kiss any other woman -nor[26] your own wife, live justly like another honest christian, -and you’ll come to die well. - -Jock. A black end on a me stir, in ever I lay an unlawfu leg upon -hissie again an they sude lie down to me while our Maggy lests; and -for dying there’s nae fear o’ that, but I’ll no get fair play if ye -an’ a’ the aulder fouk in the parish be not dead before me, so I -hae done wi’ ye now. - - * * * * * - - An EPITAPH. - - Here lies the dust of John Bell’s Mither, - Against her will, death’s brought her hither; - Clapt in this hole, hard by his dady, - Death snatch’t her up, or she was ready; - Lang might she liv’d wer’t not her wame, - But wha can live beyond their time? - There’s none laments her but the Suter, - So here she lyes looking about her; - Looking about her! how can that be? - Yes, she sees her state, better than we. - - * * * * * - - An ELEGY on the Death of JOCKEY’S MOTHER - - Now a’ body ken’s my Mither’s dead, - For weel a wat I bore her head, - And in the grave I saw her laid, - It was e’en right drole, - For her to change a warm fire side: - For a cauld kirk-hole. - - But every ane tell’st just like a sang, - That yon’s the gate we have to gang, - For me to do it, I think nae lang, - If I can do better. - For I trow my Mither thinks it nae sang, - What needs we clatter. - - But thanks to death ay for the futer, - That did not let her get the Suter, - For about her gear wad been a splutter, - And sae had been, - For he came ay snoaking about her, - Late at een. - - For our Maggy watch’t and saw, - My Mither’s back was at the wa’, - But what was mair hach ha’ hach ha’ - I winna tell, - She to do yon stood little aw’, - Just like mysell. - - But to get gear was a’ her drift, - And used many a pinging shift: - About her spinning and her thrift, - Was a’ her care, - She’s gotten but little o’t abune the lift, - Wi’ her ti wear. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP._ - - - [The edition reprinted from here is ‘the tenth edition,’ as the - title page bears. The full title is:--‘The Young Coal-Man’s - Courtship to a Creel-Wife’s Daughter, or, a Dialogue between an - Old Woman and her Son: wherein she instructs him in the Real - Art of Courtship. Very beneficial for blate Wooers or young - Beginners. The Tenth Edition. Containing all its Three Parts. - Glasgow: Printed and sold by J. & J. Robertson, MDCCLXXXII.’ It - is a 16 pp. 12mo.] - - - - -THE YOUNG COALMAN’S COURTSHIP TO A CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER. - - -All you that’s curious of Courtship, give attention to this History -of Mary and her son Sawny, a young Coalman, who lived in the -country a few miles from Edinburgh. - -Mary, his mither, was a gay hearty wife, had mair wantonness nor -wealth; was twelve years a married wife, nine years a widow, and -was very chaste in her behaviour, wi’ her ain tale (for want of -charging:) for a’ this time of her widowhood, there was never a man -got a kiss o’ her lips, or laid a foul hand on her hind quarters. - -Sawny her son was a stout young raw lown, full faced, wi’ flabby -cheeks, duddy breeks, and a ragged doublet, gade always wi’ his -bosom bare, sometimes had ae gartan, a lingle or rash-rape was -good enough for Sawny: his very belly was a’ sun burnt and brown -like a piper’s bag, or the head of an auld drum; and yet his beard -began to sprout out like herring banes: he took thick brose to his -breakfast, and baps and ale through the day, and when the coals -sell’d dear, when the wind was cauld, bought an oven farl and twa -Dunbar weathers,[27] or a Glasgow magistrate,[28] which fish-wives -ca’s a waslen herrin. - -His mither, auld Mary plagued him ay in the morning, got up when -the hens keckled, reinged the ribs, blew her snotter-box, primed -her nose, kindled her tobacco pipe, and at every puff breathed -out fretting against her hard fortune, and lanely single life. O -but a widow be a poor name, but I live in a wilderness in this -lang-lonen; mony a man gaes by my door, but few looks in to -poor auld Mary: Hoch hey, will I never win out o’ this weery’d -life.--Wa’ Sawny man, wa’ Sawny man; wilt thou na rise the day; the -sun’s up, an a’ the nibours round about; Willie and Charlie is to -the hill an hour syne, an’ haf-gate hame again. Wilt thou rise and -gi’ the beasts a bite; thou minds na’ them, I wat man. - -Grump, grump, quo’ Sawny, they got their supper an hour after I got -mine. Shute to dead come on them, an’ they get a bit frae me till -they work for’t. - -_Sawny._ But O Mither, I been dreaming that I was married, an’ i’ -the bed aboon the bride, I wonder gin it be true: Od! I never got -sic fun; what wilt be, think ye? How auld am I mither; do you think -I could man a hissy yet? Fegs am a mind to try, but the sour saucy -hissies ’ill no hae me, I ken well enough. - -_Mither._ Hae you lad, ay mony a hungry heart wad be blyth o’ you; -but there was never a sca’d Jocky but there was a scabbit Jenny -till him yet:[29] dinny be fear’d lad. - -_Sawny._ A hech, mither, I’se no be lordly, an I sud tak a beggar -wife aff the hi’ gate: but I’ll tell you something it’m ay thinking -on, but ye manna tell the nibours, for the chields wad aye jamf[30] -me wi’t. - -_Mither._ Wad I tell o’ thee, I wad tell o’ mysel as soon. - -_Sawny._ Do ye mind, mither, that day I gaed to the Pans[31] I -came in by Auld Mattie’s, your countrymans, the Fife wife, it came -out o’ the town ye came frae, the wife it says, _Be-go laddie_, I -gaed there, and she wisna in, and her doughter kend me; she was -unco kind, and made me fat, fat brose out o’ the lee side o’ her -kail pat, there was baith beef and paunches in’t: od they smell’d -like ony haggies, an’ shin’d a’ like a gou’d lac’d waiscoat, figs -I suppit till I was like to rive o’ them, and had a rift o’ them -the morn a’ day; when I came out, I had a kite like a cow wi’ ca’f. -She spier’d for you mither, and I said ye was gaily: and she looked -to me, and leuch ay, and grippet my shakle bane, and said I wad -be a sturdy fallow yet.--I looked ay to her, and thought I liked -her, and thinks on’t ay sin-syne, she leugh, and bad me seek out a -coal-driver for her, for she did na’ like to carry a fish creel. - -_Mither._ Forsooth, Sawny, I’ll gie my twa lugs for a lav’rocks egg -if she binna in love wi’ thee, and that will be a bargain. - -_Sawny._ An’ upon my word mither she’s a sturdy gimmer, well worth -the snoaking after; she has a dimple in every cheek, and ane on her -chin, twa legs like twa posts, an haunches like a sodger’s lady’s -hoop, they hobble when she shakes, and her paps plays nidity nod -when she gangs, I ken by her keeking[32] she has a conceit o’ me. - -_Mither._ But Sawny man, an tou see her mither Matty in the town, -auld _Be-go-laddie_, as ye ca’ her, gi’ her a dram, she lik’st -well; spout ye a mutchkin o’ molash in her cheek, ye’ll get her -mind an’ speed the better. - -_Sawny._ But mither how sud I do when I gang to court her; will -I kiss her and tan kittle her, an’ fling her o’er as the chiels -does the hissies amang the hay. I seen them gang our ither, and -o’er ither; an’ when they grip them by the wame, they’d cry like a -maukin when the dogs is worrying them. - -_Mither._ Hut awa’, daft dog it thou is, that’s no the gate, thou -maun gang in wi’ bra’ good manners an’ something manfu’; put on a -Sunday’s face and sigh as ye were a saint; sit down beside her as -ye were a Mess John; keek ay till her now and then wi’ a sto’en -look, and had your mouth as mim, and grave as a May-puddock, or -a whore at a christening; crack well o’ our wealth, and hide our -poverty. - -_Sawny._ Ay but mither, there’s some other way in courting nor -that, or the lasses would never couple so close to them. - -_Mither._ Ay but Sawny man, there is a time for everything and that -too; when ye sit where nae body sees you, you may tak her head in -your oxter, like a creesh pig, dab nebs wi’ her now an’ than, but -be sure ye keep a close mouth when ye kiss her; clap her cheeks -and straik her paps, but for your drowning gang nae farther down; -but fouk’s that’s married can put their hand to ony part they like. - -_Sawny._ Aha, but mither, I didna ken the first word o’ courting, -the lassie ’ill no ken what am com’d about. - -_Mither._ Ay will she lad, wink and keek well to her, she’ll hae a -guess; seek a quiet word o’ her at the door; an’ gin it be dark, -gie her a wee bit kiss when ye’ve tell’d her your errand; an’ gin -they gi’e you cheese and bread, or ony meat, ca’t good, whether it -be sae or no; and for my blessing, be mensfu’ wi’ your mouth, and -dinna eat o’er muckle, for I seen you sip as mony milk brose as wad -a sar’t twa men to carry on a barrow. - -_Sawny._ A but mither, ye’re lying now, or it was na’ a’ at ance -than, but an they set meat before me, and I be hungry, a de’il -claw the clungest[33] an’ I be nae upsides wi’t, for that same. -A faith mither, fouks maun hae meat, an’ they should ne’er get -wives, there’s some o’ them no worth the cursing, an’ a body were -na letting an oath whether or no: a hear ye that now, when ye pit -me till’t, and gar me speak; ay by my sooth, I wad rather hae a bit -good powny[34] an’ a pound o’ cheese, or I were bound to bab after -ony hizzies buttocks I see yet. - -_Mither._ Wa Sawny man thou’s a fool an’ that’s a fau’t: gin -every ane were as easy about women as thou is, the warld wad be -a wilderness in a wee time; there wad be nae body to inhabit the -earth but brute beasts, cats and dogs wad be worrying ither, and -every thing gae to confusion. Gae to the courting ye dog it ye are, -and either do something or naething at a’. - - -End of the FIRST PART. - - - _The other two Parts give an account of his behaviour when in - courtship with the bride, the wedding, speuing of the blankets, - &c._ - - -PART II. - -Up got Sawny in the morning, and swallowed o’er his sodden meat, -slag by slag; and aff he goes to the coals and the courting, -lilting and singing like a lav’rock in a May mornin, _O to be -married if this be the way_. The colliers wonder’d a’ to see him -sae well busket, wi’ a pair o’ wally side auld fashioned breeks o’ -his father’s,[35] and a lang cravate like a minister, or Baillie -Duff at a burial, a clean face and hands, and no less than a gun -sleev’d linen sark on him, which made his cheeks to shine like a -sherney weight, and the colliers swore he was as bra’ as a horse -gawn to a cow’s dredgy. - -But Sawny came aff wi’ his coals whistling, and whipping up the -poor beast e’en as outragious as ony ram at riding time; well might -ony body see there was a storm in Sawny’s nose, light where it -like; for no sooner had he sell’d his coals than he left his horse -to come hame wi’ a nibour callen, and gade keeking up the Cow-gate, -and thro’ the closes, seeking auld _Be-go_ his good-mither to be, -then in thro’ the fish market where he bought a lang herrin, an’ -twa baps, a pair of suters auld shoon greesed black and made new, -to make his feet feasible like, as he kend the lass wad look at -them, (for his mither tell’d him the women look’d ay to the men’s -legs or they marry’d them, and the well-legged louns gade ay best -aff.) - -So Sawny came swaggering through a’ the shell wives, but she was -nae there, but coming down the town beneath the guard, meets auld -_Be-go_ just in the teeth, and crys, hey laddie my dow, how’s your -mither honest Mary? I thank you co’ Sawny, she’s meat-heal, and ay -working some, how is a’ at hame, is Kate and the laddie well? - -_Mat._ Fu’ well my dow, you’re a bra’ soncy dog grown, a wally fa’ -me gin I kend ye. - -Come, come, co’ Sawny, and I’ll gie you a nossock to heat your -wame, it’s a cauld day, an’ ye’re my mither’s countryman. - -Na’ fair fa’ you Sawny, I’ll no refus’t, a dram’s better the day -nor a clap on the arse wi’ a cauld shule, sae fallow me my dow. - -So away she took me, co’ Sawny, down a dark stair to ane o’ the -how houses, beneath the yird, where it was mirk as in a coal -heugh,[36] and they had a great fire, _Sweet be wi’ me_, co’ Sawny, -_for it minds me o’ the ill part_, an’ a muckle pot like a little -caldron, seething kail and roasting flesh, the wife forket them -out as fast us she cou’d into cogs and caps, for there came in a -whin sutor-like fallows wi’ black thumbs and creashy aprons, that -cuttied them a’ up in a wee time, but they ne’er fashed wi’ us nor -we with them; we first got a gill and then a het pint; a vow said I -Matty, is nae Kate gawn to get a man yet? - -A man laddie, a wha wad hae her? a muckle lazy useless jade, she -can do naething but work at husband wark;[37] card and spin, wash -ladies rooms, and scour gentlemen’s bonny things, she canna tak -a creel on her back, and apply to merchandizing as I do to win a -man’s bread. - -_Sawny._ I think some o’ the fishers and her may mak it up. - -_Mat._ A fisher laddie, hech the fishers has a better look out -wi’ them, the fishers wad rather hae a pickle good baits to their -hooks, and twa three bladders to their lines, then put up wi’ the -like o’ her, a stinking pridefu’ jade, although I bore her, ay -scraping and washing at hersel, pricking and prining, keeps her -face ay like a Flanders baby, and no less nor ribbons and rings, -and her shone made o’ red clouts; an’ de’il stick pride, when our -auld goodum ran barefoot, and our gutchers gaed wi’ bare hips. Gie -her a man, ill thief stap a gouk in her arse first, that it may -cry cuckow whenever she speaks o’t; she can do naething but scour -ladies piss pots, and keep clean the tirlie whirlies that hangs -about the fire, heth she’s o’er gently brought up to be a poor -man’s penny worth. - -Hegh how co’ Sawny, an’ its e’en a great pity, for she’s a weel -far’d lusty hissy, I had a great kindness for her. - -_Mat._ A-well-a-wat she’s no lingle tail’d, she may be a caff-bed -to a good fallow; but an thou had seen me at her age, I was a -sturdy gimmer: there was na ane about a’ the Hyne or Dubby-side, -cou’d lay a curpen to a creel wi’ me; the fient a fallow in a’ -Fife, but I wad a laid him on the braid o’ his back, an’ a’ his -gear upmost, I was a chiken to chatter wi’ indeed laddie, I had a -pair o’ cheeks like a chapman’s arse, and a flank like an ox; sae -had I een. - -_Sawny._ Nae doubt co’ Sawny but ye had a pair o’ beefy buttocks, -for your very cheeks hings like leather bags to this very day; but -I’ll tell you what am gaun to tell you, do you think that your Kate -wad tak me, an I wad come to court her. - -_Mat._ Tak you laddie, tak you, a faith she’ll tak you, for she -wou’d a tane a poor button thing of a half blind taylor, wartna -me, a poor, bleir’d scabbit like creature it was, I seen the day -I wou’d ha carried it in my pouch: wode I’se warrent her jump at -you like a fish at a flee, wode I say tak you, an’ she winna tak -you I’se tak you mysel; but she and I cust out the day, about her -cockups and blackcaps, gard me say sae meickle o’ her, but she’s my -sonsy dawty for a’ that, weel a wat she’s a weel natured lassie an’ -she turn an ill-natured wife I canna tell. - -_Sawny._ A we’ll then I’ll venture on her as she is, for my -mither’s pleased, and ye’re pleas’d, an’ am pleas’d, an’ in she be -pleas’d wode I am sure to get her, an’ the taylor has nae bridled -her, or tane a trying trotty o’ her. - -_Mat._ But Sawny man, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, I’ll hame and -broach her the night on’t, an’ come ye the morn, we’ll make it fude -fast in a wee time, so thou’s get mair tocher than a cramon, _gamon -to gamon_, she has baith blankets and sheets, a covering and twa -cods, a caff-bed and bowster, and hear’st thou me laddie, I have a -bit auld hogger[38] an’ some thing in’t, thou’s get it when I die; -but by my suth it will be the last thing that I will part wi’, I -kenna what I may need yet, its an auld wife kens her wierd. - -On this they paid their spout[39] and parted; but when Sawny came -out he stoited and stagger’d like a sturdy stot, molash was chief -commander, for he thought every body had two heads and four een -and more noses than they needed; being sometime in the dark house, -thought it was the morning of a new day, a hech said he, when was I -a night frae my mither before, she’ll think I am put in the guard, -tane wi’ the deel, or the doctors, or anse married, and wirking at -the wanton wark o’ wean’s making. - -_Mat._ Hute daft laddie, the soup drink’s in your head, this day -and yesterday is a’ ae day, ye’ll be hame in bra’ time yet. - -_Sawny._ A well a well then good day to you good-mither, ye maun -gar Kate tak me or thief tak you a’ the gither, I’ll hame and tell -the length its come, an’ it come nae farther it maun e’en stick -there.--Off he goes tacking about like a ship against the wind, as -if he would knock holes in the wa’s and windows wi’ his elbows, he -looked as fierce as a lion; wi’ a red face like a trumpeter, and -his nose was like a bublie-cocks neb, as blue as a blawirt; but or -he wan half way, his head turned heavier nor his heels, and many a -filthy fa’ he got, through thick and thin he plash’d, till hame he -gets at last, grunting and graping by the wa’s, that auld Mary his -mither thought it was their neighbour’s sow, he was so bedaubed wi’ -dirt, gets him to bed, he was in a boiling barrel fever, and poor -Mary grat wi’ grief. - -_Sawny._ Hech hey co’ Sawny, but courting be a curst wark, and -costly, an’ marriage be as mortifying and murdering, the devil may -be married for me. - -_Mither._ Wa, Sawny man what’s come o’er thee now, thou’s gotten -skaith, some auld wife has witcht thee,[40] or the deel has dung -thee o’er in some dirty midden, my bairn’s elf-shot; whar has thou -been, or what hast thou seen, thy een reels like a wild cat, and -the sweat is hailing o’er thy nose, thou’s witcht, O man what will -I do! - -_Sawny._ Bock, bock co’ Sawny, but it couldna win up wi’ bubbles -and herrin banes, o’ co’ Sawny put me in my bed, for my days will -soon be done, a curse on your courting wark, for its kill’d me, and -wives is but wicked things I ken by the same. - -_Mither._ O dole! dole my bairn has gotten poison, for the smell -o’t is like poison to me. - -_Sawny._ Gin herrin and het ale be poison, there’ll no be mony left -alive: Bock co’ Sawny, the bed’s filld. - -_Mither._ My bairn thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now, thou’s -surely lost thy senses when thou files where thou lies as the brute -beasts does, thou never did the like o’ this before since thou left -cakying o’ the cradle. - - N.B.--_The third Part gives a further account of the Courtship - and Marriage, &c._ - - -PART III. - -Poor Sawny had a terrible night o’t, wi’ a sair head, and a sick -heart, his een stood in his head, his wame caddled like onny mill -trows,[41] and a’ his puddings crocket like a wheen paddocks in a -pool; his mither rocket and wrang her hands, crying a wae be to -the wife that brew’d it! for I hae lost a well foster’d bairn, wi’ -their stinking stuff, a meikle deel ding the doup out o’ their -ca’dron, my curse come on them and their whisky pots, its burnt him -alive, ay, ay, my bairn he’s gone. - -But about the break of day, his wind brake like the bursting of -a bladder; O happy deliverance! cried Mary his mither, tho’ dirt -bodes luck,[42] and foul farts files the blankets, I wish ne’er -war be amang us. The next thing that did Sawny good was, three -mutchkins o’ milk made in thin brose, and a fine pickle pepper in -them, yet he had a soughing in his lugs like a saw-mill, and every -thing ran round about wi’ him a’ that day. Yet his mother got him -out o’ the bed, on o’ the meikle chair, a pair o’ blankets about -his shoulders, a cod at his back, and a hot brick to his soles, -to gar him true he was nae well; and there he sat like a lying-in -wife, cracking like a Hollander, and ate twa dead herrin and a -cufe,[43] telling a’ the outs and ins about his bridal, and whan it -was to be; for he had gotten every body’s consent but the bride’s -about it. - -_Mither._ But Sawny man that’s the main thing, ye maun hae that too. - -_Sawny._ Na, na, mither am the only thing myself, she’s but a -member, the men maun ay be foremost, gang what way it will, I’se ay -be the uppermost. - -_Mither._ But Sawny man, what way is thou gaun to do? will ye mak a -pay penny wedding?[44] or twa three gude neighbours, a peck o’ meal -baken, wi’ a cheese, and a barrel o’ ale, will that do? - -_Sawny._ Na, na, mither, I’ll take a cheaper gate nor ony o’ them; -I’ll gar haf-a-crown and haf-a-mutchkin or a rake o’ coals do it -a’, then a body has nae mair a-do but piss and then go to bed syne. - -_Mither._ Na, na, my man Sawny, I have mony, mony a time, heard thy -honest father say, that never a ane wad do well that cap-strided -the kirk, or cuckol’d the minister.[45] - -_Sawny._ A tell na me mither, o’ the ministers; they’re ay for -their ain hands as well as other fouks, an’ if a poor beggar body -had a bit wean to chrisen, the deil a doit they feike him o’t. - -_Mither._ Hute awa man, there’s nae body has weans, but what has -siller to pay the chrissening o’ them; or if they be that poor they -sude na get nae weans, and they wad na be fash’d syne. - -_Sawny._ Ha, ha, mither the poor foukes like the lice; ay when they -meet they marry and maks mae o’ them: And I think the ministers -might chrisen their bits a weans for nae thing, the water is no -sae scant; they’re well paid for their preaching, they may very -well both marry and chrisen a’ the poor foukes into the bargain, by -the way of a maggs.[46] - -_Mither._ Ay, ay, my man Sawny, marriage is a sweet thing for young -fouke an’ the bed undefil’d. - -_Sawny._ What the vengeance mither, do ye think that a body is to -file the bed every night, an’ they do’t ance. - -_Mither._ Na, na, that’s no what I mean, its happiness that fouk -has that’s married, besides the wearied lonesome life it I hae, -lying tumbling and gaunting in a bed my lane; O sirs! but a man in -a bed be a usefu’ body, an’ it were but to claw ane’s back, as for -a body’s foreside they can claw it themsel. - -_Sawny._ A’ mither, mither, ye hae fun a string again, I think ye -might a wanted a’ your days when ye fasted sae lang; ye hae plenty -o’ baith milk and meal, snuff and tobacco, but ye smell at the -crack o’ the whip, I kend my mither wad ride yet; for I seen her -fit wagging this lang time. - -_Mither._ A dear Sawny man, an thou were ance fairly aff the -fodder, I’ll be casten into a hole of a house by mysel, where I’ll -just ly and break my heart, and weary mysel to dead, but an I cou’d -get a bit honest weaver, a cobler, or some auld taylor by the tail, -I wad tickle to him yet, let the country clash as they please about -it. - -_Sawny._ A well, a well, then mither, take then your ain flight; -there’s nae fool to an auld fool; for the morn I’se be aff or on -wi’ the hissy I hae on hand. - -So on the morning Sawny got a’ his clase clean, his hair cam’d and -greas’d wi’ butter, and his face as clean as the cat had licket it; -and away he goes singing. - - _I will buy a pound of woo’,_ - _I will wash’d and make a plaidy:_ - _I’m gaun o’er the moor till woo,_ - _Carline, is your daughter ready?_[47] - -Now poor Sawny altho’ he sang, was as pale as a ghost from the -grave, his face was whitly white, like a well bleatch’d dish-clout, -he looked just as he had been eaten and spued again; but at length -he came to the bride’s door, and in he goes wi’ a brattle, crying -how is a’ here the day? an’ what’s com’d o’ thy mither lassie? -O Saunders said the bride she’s awa’ to the town, what came o’ -you yesterday, she waited on you the whole day; ye gart her lose -a day’s trade lad, and she is away this morning cursing like a -heathen, an’ swearing _be-go_ that ye hae geen her a begunk. - -_Sawny._ A dole woman, I took a sudden blast o’ the hame gawn, an’ -was never so near dead in my life. - -An’ wha think you was in company wi’ Kate the bride, but the wee -button of a taylor, who sat and sewed on a table, cocking like a -t--d on a trencher, but when he kend wha was com’d he leaped down -on the floor, custe a dash o’ pride like a little bit prince, he -bobet about, and so out he goes with the tear in his eye, and his -tail between his feet like a haff worried colly-dog. - -_Sawny._ Now Katty do ye ken what I’m com’d about? - -_Kate._ O yes my mither tell’d me, but I’m no ready yet, I have twa -gowns to spin, and things to mak.[48] - -_Sawny._ Hute, things to mak, ye have as mony things as ye’ll need -woman, canna ye spin gowns in your ain house wi’ me, as right as -here wi’ an auld girning mither? - -_Kate._ But dear Saunders, ye must give a body time to think on’t, -’twad be ill far’d to rush together just at the first. - -_Sawny._ And do ye think I have naething a-do, but come here every -other day hoiting after you? it’ll no do, I maun be either aff wi’ -you or on wi’ you, either tell me or tak me, for I ken of other -twa, and some o’ you I will hae, for as I’m a sinner my mither is -gawn to be married too, an’ she can get a bit man of ony shape or -trade. - -_Kate._ Indeed then Saunders, since you’re in such a haste, you -must e’en tak them that’s readiest, for am no ready yet. - -_Sawny._ Dear woman whan your mither an’ my mither’s pleas’d, am -willing to venture on ye, what a sorrow ails you? - -_Kate._ Na, na I’ll think on’t twa or three days; it’s o’er lang a -term to see without a thought. - -_Sawny._ Wode I think ye’re a cumstrarie piece o’ stuff, it’s true -enough your mither said o’ ye, that ye’re no for a poor man. - -_Kate._ And what mair said she o’ me? - -_Sawny._ Wode she said you could do naething but scure wash mugs, -an’ gentlemen’s bonny things, but hissies it is bred amang gentle -houses, minds me o’ my mither’s cat, but ye’r far costlier to keep, -for the cat wastes neither saep nor water, but spits in her lufe -and washes ay at her face, and whins o’ you can do nae ither thing, -and up he gets. - -_Kate._ O Saunders but ye be short, will ye no stay till my mither -come hame? - -_Sawny._ I stay’d long enough for any thing I’ll be the better; and -am no sae short as your totum of a taylor it I cou’d stap it my -shoe, sae cou’d I e’en. - -Hame he goes in a passion, and to his bed he ran crying, O death, -death! I thought the jade wad jumpet at me; no comfort nor -happiness mair for poor me. O mither gar make my burial bread, for -I’ll die this night or soon the morn.[49] But early next morning -in comes auld _Be-go_ his good mither, who had left her daughter -in tears for the slighting o’ Sawny; and haules him and his mither -away to get a dinner of dead fish, where a’ was agreed upon, the -wedding to be upon Wednesday; no bridal fouks but the twa mithers -and themselves twa. - -So according to appointment they met at Edinburgh, where Sawny got -the cheap priest,[50] who gave them twa three words, and twa three -lines, took their penny and a good drink, wish’d them joy and gaed -his wa’s. Now said auld _Be-go_, if that be your minister, he’s but -a drunken b--h, mony a’ ane drinks up a’, but he leaves naething, -he’s got that penny for deil haet, ye might cracket lufes on’t[51] -and been as well, if no better; I have seen some honest men say -mair o’er their brose[52] nor what he said a’ the gither, but an ye -be pleas’d am pleas’d, a bout in the bed ends a’, and makes firm -wark: so here’s to you, and joy to the bargain, its ended now well -I wat. - - - - -_COMICAL TRANSACTIONS OF LOTHIAN TOM._ - - - [This is another unique specimen of the early chap-book from - the library of George Gray, Esq. The original is in three - numbers of eight pages each, breaks being made in the narrative - without respect to any thing but the filling of requisite space. - The first number bears the title:--‘The History and Comical - Transactions of Lothian Tom. In Six Parts. Wherein is contained a - Collection of Roguish Exploits done by him, both in Scotland and - England,’ while the other two are but modifications of it. There - is this addition on the third number:--‘Which contains a dialogue - betwixt Tom and Pady about their questions, and Tom’s song.’ They - were all printed in Niddery’s Wynd, Edinburgh: the first in 1775, - the second in 1777; while the third is without date. Since the - Introduction to these volumes was written we have seen an edition - of this chap-book published by Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh, - without date. It is a 24 pp. 12mo., and contains all the material - to be found in the edition from which the following pages are - printed, including Tom’s Song. In this edition, however, ‘Pady’s - New Catechism’ is made part VI., while part II. as in the 1775 - edition, with additions and alterations, is incorporated into - part I. The ‘Catechism,’ as already explained, does not seem to - belong to this chap-book, but to ‘Pady from Cork.’] - - - - -THE LIFE AND COMICAL TRANSACTIONS OF LOTHIAN TOM. - - -This Thomas Black, vulgary called Lothian Tom, because of that -country, was born four miles from Edinburgh, his Father being a -very wealthy farmer, who gave him good education, which he was very -awkward in receiving, being a very wild cross mischievous boy. - -When he was about 10 years of age, he was almost killed by the -stroke of a horse’s foot, which his father had; who had a trick -of kicking at every person that came in behind him. But when Tom -was got heal of the dreadful wound, whereof many thought he would -have died. To be even with the horse, he gets a clog, or piece of -tree which was full of wooden pins; a thing which the shoe makers -used to tann their leather upon; and with a rope he tied it to the -cupple balk in the stable, directly opposite to the horse’s tail, -gets up on the balk and gives it a swing back so that the pikes in -the end of it, came with a full drive against the horse’s arse; -which made him to fling and the more he flung and struck at it, it -rebounded back again and struck him; the battle lasted with great -fury for a long time, which was good diversion for Tom, until his -father hearing some disturbance in the stable, came in to know the -matter, and was surprized when he saw the poor horse tanning his -own hide, with his legs all cut and bloody, with kicking against -the pikes of the tanners stool; so he cut the rope and the battle -was ended, but the poor horse would never kick at any thing that -came behind him afterwards, but always run from it. - -It happened one day that Tom went a fishing and brought home a few -small fish, which his grandmother’s cat snapt up in the dark; so -Tom to have justice of the cat for so doing catches her, and puts -her into a little tub cogbome,[53] then sets her a drift into a -mill-dam, ordering her to go a fishing for herself; then sets two -or three dogs upon her, where a most terriable seafight ensued as -ever was seen in fresh watter: for if any of the dogs assayed to -board her, by setting in over their nose, badrons came flying to -that quarter, to repulse him with her claws; then her vessel was -like to overset by the weight of herself, so she had to flee to -the other, and finding the same there, from thence to the middle, -where she sat mawing, always turning herself about, coming her -nose with her foot. The old woman being informed of the dangerous -situation of her dearly beloved cat, came running with a long pole -to beat off the dogs and haul her ashore: What now, says Tom, if -you be going to take part with my enemies, you shall have part of -their reward: then gives the old woman such a push that she tumbled -into the dam over head and ears, beside her beloved cat, and would -undoubtedly perished in the water, had not one of the people who -were there looking at the diversion, com’d to her relief. - -After this Tom was sent to the school to keep his hands out of -an ill turn; and having an old canker’d crab witted fellow for -his dominie, they were always at variance, for if Tom had got -his whips, which he often deserved, he was sure to be revenged -upon his master again for it. So Tom perceiving his master had a -close-stool in a little closet within the school, where he went -and eased himself when need was: Tom gets a penny-worth of gun -powdar, and strinkled it on the ground directly before the seat, -and lays a little of it along in a train to the fire side, then -perceiving when his master went into it, and as he was loosing down -his breeches, sets fire to the train which blew it all up about his -master’s bare hips, which scorched him most terriably, besides the -fright; for which Tom was severely whipt; yet in a little after he -began to study revenge on his master. - -So it happened one day as Tom went into the master’s house, the -wife was stooping into a big meal barrel[54] to bring out some -meal; there he takes her by the feet and cowps her up into the -barrel with her head down, and her bare backside upper-most; then -runs into the school, crying, “O! master, master! the deel’s -looking out of your meal stand wi’ a fat face, and a black ill -far’d mouth: yon’s just auld nick and he be living.” At this the -master run with all speed he could to see what it was, and found -it to be his own wife speechless and almost smothered to death; -but as she could not tell who did it, Tom got clear off; yet he -was not satisfied without some more vengeance on the old fellow; -and knowing his master had a fashion when he was going to whip the -boys, if they would not loose their breeches willingly, he drew -his knife and cut them thro’ the waistband behind: so Tom goes -to a butcher and gets a raw pudding, and fills it with blood and -watter and puts it in within the waistband of his breeches: then -goes to school next day, and as the master was sitting with his -back towards the fire, Tom lights a piece of paper and sets his wig -in a low, which burnt for some time unperceived, until the flames -came fizing about his ears: he first put out the wig by trampling -it upon the ground with his feet, and being informed that Tom did -it, flies to him in a rage, ordering him to loose his breeches, -but Tom told him he was never so mad: then he drew his knife and -whips poor Tom over his knee, and with great kicking and struggling -cuts the waistband of his breeches through pudding and all, so that -the blood gushed out; and Tom cried murder, murder, and down he -fell. The poor dominie went out of the door crying and wringing his -hands. Word flew about that Tom was sticket by the dominie, which -made the people come running from several parts of the country -round about to see how it was; but searching him for the wound, -found none but the empty pudding, which discovered the fraud.[55] -Then two men had to get horses and ride after the poor dominie, who -had by this time got two or three miles away; and when he saw them -coming after him, crying to stand, and come back again, he ran the -faster, untill he could run no more, but fell over on the road, -praying him to let him go, for if he was taken back he was sure of -being hanged: and would not be persuaded that Tom was alive, until -they forced him back and he saw him: but he would be Tom’s teacher -no longer; so Tom’s father had to seek another master for him. - - -PART II. - -There was a young woman servant to Tom’s father, which Tom had -offended by some of his tricks, and she to be up with him again; -one night spread a handfull of short nettles in his bed, between -his sheets; which stinged his legs and thighs so much, that he was -obliged to quit his bed, for some part of the night; for which he -resolved to be revenged when ever a proper opportunity offered. -It happened in a few days after that she was invited to a wedding -where the dancing and diversion induced her to stay all night; -and on coming home in the morning, her mistress set her to wash -some cloaths. But she being fatigued with her night’s diversion, -and for want of rest fell fast asleep with her hand extended in -the tub, and standing on her feet with her belly leaning on the -tub, Tom perceiving this, slips her petticoats and smock over her -head, letting the sun shine on her bare back side, which faced -the highway. Several people passing by while she continued in -this posture, some of them were diverted, and others ashamed at -the sight. But a poor cadger had the misfortune to be coming on -the road at the time, and his horse taking fright at this unusual -sight, threw off the creels which broke the poor man’s eggs all -to smash. Which so enraged him, that he lashed her buttocks with -his whip in so unmerciful a manner, that with the smart and shame -together, she had not the least inclination to sleep for the -remaining part of the day.[56] - -Tom being grown up to the years and age of a man, thought himself -more wiser and slyer than his father; and there was several things -about the house he liked better than to work: so he turned to be -a dealer amongst the brutes, a couper of horses and cows, &c. and -even wet ware amongst brewers and brandy shops; until he couped -himself to the toom halter; and then his parents would supply him -no more. He knew well his grandmother had plenty of mony, but she -would give him none; but the old woman had a good black calf her -own, which Tom went to the fields one evening and catches and takes -her into an old waste house which stood at a distance from any -other, and there he kept her two or three days, giving her meat and -drink when it was dark at night, and made the old woman believe -some body had stole the cow for their winter mairt:[57] which was -grief enough to the old woman, for the loss of her dearly beloved -cow. However, she employs Tom to go to a fair that was near by, -to buy her another, gives him 3 lr[58] which Tom accept of very -thankfulli and promised to buy one as like the other as possibly -he could get; then he gets a piece of chalk and brays it small as -meal, and steeps it in a little water, and therewith rubs over -the cow’s face and back which made her both brocket and rigget: -So Tom in the morning takes the cow to a public house within a -little of the fair, and there left her till the fair was over, and -then drives her home before him; and as soon as they came home -the cow began to rout as she used to do, which made the old woman -so rejoice, thinking it was her own black cow; but when she saw -her white face, sighed and said, “Alas! thou’ll never be like the -kindly brute my black lady, and yet routs as like her as ony I ever -did hear;” but Tom says to himself, the mercy is you know not what -she says, or all would be wrong yet. So in two or three days the -old woman put forth her bra’ rigget cow in the morning with the -rest of the neighbours cattle, but it came on a sore day of heavy -rain, which washed away all the white from her face and back: so -the old woman’s black lady came home at night, and her rigget cow -went away with the shower and was never heard of. But Tom’s father -having some suspicion, and looking narrowly into the cows face, -found some of the chalk not washed away; and then he gave poor Tom -a hearty beating, and sent him away to seek his fortune with a skin -full of sore bones. - - -PART III. - -Tom being turned to his own shifts, considers with himself how to -raise a little more money, gets a long string as near as he could -guess to be the length of his mother; and into Edinburgh he goes, -to a wright who was acquainted with his father and mother; the -wright asking him how he did? he answered him very soberly, for he -had lost a good dutiful mother; last night, and there’s a measure -of her coffin. The wright was surprised at the news, and lamented -his loss and so fell to work on the coffin. Tom went out and stayed -for some time, and then comes in again, and tells the wright he did -not know what to do, for his father had ordered him to get money -from such a man, which he named, and that he was that day gone -out of town; the wright asked him how much he wanted? to which he -answered, a guinea and a half might do, or thirty shillings at the -least; so he gave him the guinea and the half: then Tom gave him -strict charge to be out on the morrow against eleven o’clock with -the coffin, and he should have his money altogether; Tom set out -for the alehouse with the money, and lived while it lasted. Next -morning the wright and his two lads goes out with the coffin; and -as they were going in the house, Tom’s mother stands at the door, -asking the master how he did, and where he was going with that fine -coffin? he did not know well what to say, being so surprized to see -her alive! but at last he told her it was made designedly for her, -and that her son brought in the measure the day before, and had got -a guinea and a half from him, which he said was to buy some other -necessaries for the funeral. O the rogue! said she has he played -me that? So the wright got his guinea and half and so much for his -trouble, and had to take back his coffin with him again. - -Tom being now short of money again began to think how he would -raise a fresh supply; so he went to the port amongst the shearers, -and there hires about thirty of them, and agrees to give them a -whole week’s shearing at tenpence a day, which was twopence higher -than any had got that year; this made the poor shearers think he -was an honest generous genteel master as ever they got, so he took -them all into an alehouse, and gave them a hearty breakfast, till -they could eat no more. Now says he, when there are so many of you -together perhaps from different parts, and unacquainted with one -another, I do not know but there may be some of you honest men and -some of you rogues: and you are to lie all in one barn together, -any of you who has any mony, you’ll be safest to give it to me, and -I’ll mark it down in my book, with your names and what I receive -from each of you and you shall have it all again on Saturday’s -night when you get your wages. O! very well good man, take mine -take mine, every one cried faster than another; some gave him five, -six, seven and eight shillings, even all they had earned through -the harvest, which amounted to near seven pounds sterling. Having -got all their money, he goes on with them till about three miles -out of the town, and coming to[59] a great field of standing corn, -though some thing green, yet convenient for this purpose, as it -lay some distance from any house or person; so he made them begin -there, telling them he was going to order dinner for them, and -send is own servants to join them: Away he goes with all the speed -he could, but takes another road into the town, lest they should -follow and catch him. - -Now when the people to whom the corn belonged, saw such a band in -their field, they could not understand the meaning of it; but the -goodman whose corn it was, went off crying always as he run, to -them to stop; but they would not, until he began to strike them, -and they at him, he being in a great passion, as the corn was not -fully ripe; at last, by force of argument and other peoples coming -up to them, the poor shearers were convinced they had gotten the -bite, which caused them to go away lamenting their misfortune. - -In two or three days thereafter as Tom was going down the -Canongate, he meets one of his shearers, who knew him and kept -fast by him demanding his money and satisfaction for all the rest: -whisht, whisht, says Tom, and you’ll get yours and something else -beside. So Tom takes him into the jail,[60] and calls for a bottle -of ale and a dram, then takes the jaylor aside, as if he had been -to borrow the money from him: and says to the jaylor, this man -here is a great thief, I and two others, have been in search of -him these three days, and the other two men have the warrant with -them, so if you’ll keep the rogue here till I run and bring them, -you shall have a guinea in reward: yes, said the jaylor, go and -I’ll fix the rogue for you. Tom gets clear out, leaving the poor -innocent fellow and the jaylor straggling together, and then sets -off for England directly. - - -PART IV. - -Tom having now left his own native country, went into the county -of Northumberland, where he hired himself with an old miser of a -farmer; and here he continued several years, performing the duty in -his service very well, though sometimes playing a roguish trick to -those about him: his master had a very naughty custom that he would -allow them no candle at night to see with when at supper; Tom one -night sets himself next to his master, and as they were all about -to fall on, Tom puts his spoon into the midst of the dish where -the crowdie was the hottest, and claps a spoonful into his masters -mouth: a pox upon you for a rogue, cried his master, for my mouth -is all burnt; a pox upon you for a master, says Tom, for you keep -a house as dark as Purgatory, for I was going to my own mouth with -that sup and mist the way it being so dark: don’t think master that -I am such a big fool as to feed you, while I have a mouth of my -own. So from that night that Tom burnt his master’s mouth with the -hot crowdie, they always got a candle to shew them light at supper, -for his master would feed no more in the dark while Tom was present. - -There was a servant girl in the house, who always when she made the -beds neglected to make Tom’s, and would have him to do it himself, -well then, says Tom, I have harder work to do, and I shall do that -too, so next day when Tom was in the field at the plough, when he -saw his master coming from the house towards him, he then left the -horses and the plough standing in the field, and goes away towards -his master, who cried, What is wrong, or is any thing broke with -you? No, no, says Tom, but I am going home to make my bed, it has -not been made these two weeks, and just now is about the time, the -maid makes all the rest, so I’ll go home and make mine too. No, no -sirrah, go back to your plough, and I’ll cause it to be made every -night to you. Then, says Tom, I’ll plough two or three furrows more -in the time.[61] - -There was a butcher came to his master’s and bought a fine fat -calf, so Tom laid it on the horses neck before the butcher, and -when he was gone, now, says Tom, what will you hold master, but -I’ll steal that calf from the butcher before he goes two miles off? -Why, says his master, I’ll hold a guinea you don’t; done, says -Tom; in he goes, and gets a good shoe of his master’s, and runs -off another way cross the fields until he got before the butcher: -near to the corner of a hedge, where there was an open and turning -of the way, here Tom darns himself behind the hedge, and throws -the shoe in the middle of the highway, then up comes the butcher -riding and his calf before him; hey, said he to himself, there’s -a good shoe, if I knew how to get on my calf again I would alight -for it but what signifies one without its neighbour? so off he goes -and lets it lye. Tom then slips out and takes the shoe up again, -and runs across the fields until he got in before the butcher at -another part of the hedge, about half a mile distant, and there he -throws the shoe out again in the midst of the way; then up comes -the butcher, and seeing it, says to himself, now I shall have a -pair of good shoes for the lifting: and down he comes, lays the -calf on the ground, and tying his horse to the hedge, runs back, -thinking to get the other shoe; in which time, Tom whips up the -calf and shoe, and home he comes, demanding his wager, which his -master could not deny, being so fairly won. - -The poor butcher returned to his horse, got only his travel for -his pains, so missing his calf, he knew not what to say or do, -but thinking it had broke the rope from about it’s feet, and had -run into the fields, the butcher spent that day in search of it -amongst the hedges and ditches, and so returned to Tom’s master’s -all night, intending to go and search farther for it next day, -giving them a tedious relation how he came to lose it by a curs’d -pair o’ shoes which he believed the devil had dropt in his way, -and now he had taken the calf and all along with him, expressing -his thankfulness that the devil was so honest as to spare his old -horse when he stole away his calf. Next morning Tom went to work -and makes a fine white face on the calf with chalk and water -then brings it out and sold it to the butcher, which was good -diversion to his master and other servants to see the butcher buy -his own calf again: no sooner was he gone with it, but Tom says, -now master what will you hold but I’ll steal it from him again, -or he goes two miles off? No, no, says his master, I’ll hold no -more beats with you, but I’ll give you a shilling if you do it, -done says Tom, it shall cost you no more; and away he runs a foot -through the fields, until he came in before the butcher, hard by -the place where he stole the calf from him the day before; and here -he lyes behind the hedge, and as the butcher came past, he puts his -hand on his mouth, and cries, Baw, baw, like a calf; the butcher -hearing this, swears to himself, that there was the calf he had -lost the day before, down he comes and throws the calf he had on -the ground, gets in through the hedge in all haste, thinking he had -no more to do but take it up; but as he came in at the one part -of the hedge, Tom jumps out at another, and gets the calf on his -back, then gets in over the hedge on the other side, and through -the fields he came safely home, with the calf on his back; while -the poor butcher spent his time and labour in vain, running from -hedge to hedge, and hole to hole, seeking what was not there to -be found. So the butcher returned to his horse again, and finding -his other calf gone, he concluded it to be done by some invisible -spirit thereabout that spot of ground; and so went home and raised -a bad report on the devil, saying he was turned a highwayman and -had taken two calfs from him. So Tom washing the white face off -the stolen calf, his master sent the butcher word to come and buy -another calf, which he accordingly did a few days after, and Tom -sold him the same calf a third time; then told him the whole affair -as it was acted, giving him his money again so the butcher got but -fun for all his fuddle.[62] - - -PART V. - -There was an old rich blind woman, who lived hard bye, that had a -young girl her only daughter, and she fell deep in love with Tom, -and Tom fell as deep in love with the money, but not with the maid: -the old woman bestowed a vast of presents on Tom, and mounted him -like a gentleman, but still he put off the marriage from time to -time, and always wanted something, which the old woman gave the -money to purchase for him, until he had got about thirty pounds -of her money and then she would delay the marriage no longer: Tom -went and took the old woman and girl aside, and made his apology -as follows--Dear mother,[63] said he I am very willing to wed with -my dear Polly, for she appears as an angel in mine eyes, but I am -sorry very sorry to acquaint you that I am not a fit match for her: -what child, says the old woman, there’s not a fitter match in the -world for my Polly, I did not think your country could afford such -a clever youth as what I hear of you to be,[64] you shall neither -want gold nor silver, and a good horse to ride upon and when I die -you shall have my all: O but says Tom, mother that’s no the matter -at all, the stop is this, when I was at home in Scotland, I got a -stroke with a horse’s foot on the bottom of my belly, which has -quite disabled me below that I cannot perform I husband’s duty in -bed. Then the old woman clapt her hands, and fell a crying, O! if -it had been any impediment but that, but that, but that, woful -that! which gold and silver cannot purchase and yet the poorest -people that is even common beggars have plenty off it. The old -woman and her daughter sat crying and wringing their hands, and -Tom stood and wept lest he should get no more money, O says Polly, -mother I’ll wed with him nevertheless, I love him so dearly? No, -no, you foolish girl would you throw yourself away to marry a man -and die a maid, you don’t know the end of your creation, it is -the enjoyment of a man in bed that makes women to marry, which is -a pleasure like a paradise, and if you wed with this man, you’ll -live and die and never know it. Hoo, hoo, says Tom, If I had got -money, I needed not been this way till now; money, you fool, said -the old woman, there’s not such a thing to be got for money in all -England: ay, says Tom, there’s a doctor in Newcastle, will make me -able as any other man for ten guineas: ten guineas, said she, I’ll -give him fifty guineas if he will, but here is twelve and go to him -directly, and know first what he can do, and come again and wed -my child, or she and I both will die for thy sake. Tom having now -got twelve guineas more of their money, got all things ready, and -next morning early, sets out for Newcastle, but instead of going to -Newcastle, he came to old Scotland, and left Polly and her mother -to think upon him, then in about two weeks after, when he was not -like to return, no nor so much as a word from him: the old woman -and Polly got a horse, and came to Newcastle in search of him, went -through all the doctors shops asking if there came a young man -there about two weeks ago with a broken cock to mend: some laught -at her, others were like to kick her out of doors, so the old woman -had to return without getting any further intelligence of Tom. - -Now after Tom’s return to Scotland, he got a wife and took a -little farm near Dalkeith, and became a very douse man for many -days, followed his old business the couping of horses and cows the -feeding of veals for slaughter, and the like: He went one day to a -fair and bought a fine cow from an old woman, but Tom judged from -the lowness of the price that the cow certainly had some fault; Tom -gives the wife the other hearty bicker of good ale, then says, he, -wife the money’s your’s and the cow’s mine, ye must tell me ony wi’ -bit of faults it she has: Indeed quoth she goodman, she has nae a -fault but ane, and in she had wanted it, I wad never a parted wi’ -her; and what’s that goodwife said he? Indeed said she the filthy -daft beast sucks ay hersel; hute, says Tom, if that be all, I’ll -soon cure her of that, O can ye do’t said she, If I had kend what -wad a done it, ye had nae gotten her. A well says Tom I’ll tell you -what to do, tak the cow’s price I gave you just now, and tye it -hard and fast in your napkin, and give it to me throw beneath the -cow’s wame, and I’ll give you the napkin again over the cow’s back, -and I’ll lay my life for it that she’ll never suck hersel in my -aught; a wat well, said she, I’se do that an they sud be witchcraft -in’t,[65] so Tom no sooner got it throw below the cow’s wame than -he looses out his money and puts it in his pocket, and gave the -wife again her napkin over the cow’s back accordingly as he told -her, saying, now wife, you have your cow and I my money, and she’ll -never suck herself in my aught, as I told you, O dole, cryed the -wife, is that your cure, ye have cheated me, ye have cheated me. - - -PART VI. - -Tom being very scant of money at a time when his rent was to pay, -and though he was well acquainted with the Butchers in Edinburgh, -he tried severals of them, yet none of them would lend him as -much, he was known to be such a noted sharper.[66] Tom thinks with -himself that he’ll give them all a bite in general who had refused -him: So in he comes next day (and all of them had heard of a fine -fat calf he had feeding) comes to one of the butchers, and tell’s -him he was going to sell the fat calf he had at home. Well says -the butcher, and what will you have for it? just five and thirty -shillings, says Tom: No, says the butcher, by what I hear of it -I’ll give thirty. Na, na, says Tom, you must remember that is not -the price of it, but give me twenty shillings just now, and send -out your lad the morrow and we’ll perhaps agree about it. Thus Tom -went thro’ ten of them in one day, and got twenty shillings from -each of them, and kept his speech against the law for whatever they -offered him for his calf, he told them to remember that was not -to be the price of it, but give me twenty shillings just now, and -send out your lad on the morrow morning and perhaps we’ll agree was -all that passed. So Tom came home with his ten pound, and pay’d -his rent; and early next morning one of the butcher’s sent out his -lad to Louthian Tom’s for a calf, and as he was about a mile from -the town, went to an ale house door and calls for a bicker of ale, -and as he was drinking it, up comes another butcher’s lad on the -same errand, he being called by the first to come and drink, which -caused another bicker; then come other two on the same errand; -again six more, which made out the ten; and every one told he was -going to Louthian Tom’s for a calf, which made them think Tom had -gathered together all the calves in that country side: So up they -comes to Tom’s house and every one called for his calf, and his -calf; and Tom had but one calf to serve them all; which he took out -and shews them. Now, says he, whoever gives most for it shall have -it, or I’ll put it to a roup. What said they, our masters bought -it yesterday. Then says Tom, you would be fools to buy it to day -for it is heavy to carry and fashious to lead,[67] you must all go -home without it; next day Tom got ten summonses, to answer at the -instance of the butchers for selling his calf and not delivering -it. Tom then goes to Edinburgh, gets the ablest lawyer in town for -that purpose, tells him the whole of what past, from first to -last. Then said the lawyer, as they cannot prove a bargain, and -deny the paying of the money again, if you’ll give me the calf, -I’ll bring you off; but remember in law there is no point like -that of denial. The calf, says Tom, you’ll not want the calf, and -a stone of butter to make it ready with. Then the lawyer goes to -the court, where Tom is called upon; his lawyer answers first, who -asked the butchers, if they could tell the price of the calf, or -prove the bargain? they answered, No; but he ordered us to send -out our lads and we would agree about it? Gree about it, said the -judges! why, do you come to sue for a bargain and to gree about -it; Ay, but, said they, we want twenty shillings a piece from him -of money we gave him. Tom is called out, then said the judge, did -you borrow twenty shillings of any of these men? Not I my lord, -I came indeed asking the loan of money from them, but they would -lend me none; and then I came next day beggar-ways, and they were -so generous as to give me twenty shillings a piece. But said the -judge, were not you to give it back again; I never promised nor -never intended at all, my lord; for what is given to the poor is -given gratis, and I appeal to this whole court that whatever pence -any of you has given to the poor that you look not for any of it -back again. Then Tom was freed at the bar, and the butchers lost, -and laughed at. - -After the court, Tom and the lawyer had a hearty bottle;[68] and -at parting the lawyer said, now mind Tom, and send me the calf -to-morrow. O yes, says Tom, but you must first send me out forty -shillings for it. What, says the lawyer, did not you promise me it -and a stone of butter to make it ready with, for gaining your plea? -But, says Tom, did you not tell me, that the only point of the law -was to deny? and you cannot prove it: So I’ll sell my calf to them -that will give most for it; and if you have learned me law, I have -learned you roguery to your experience. So take this as a reward -for helping me to cheat the butchers: and I think I’m even now with -you both. And this was all the lawyer got of Tom.[69] - - * * * * * - - - THE PLOWMAN’S GLORY; or, TOM’S SONG.[70] - - As I was a walking one morning in the spring, - I heard a young plowman so sweetly to sing, - And as he was singing, these words he did say, - No life is like the plowman’s in the month of May. - - The lark in the morning rises from her nest, - And mounts in the air with the dew on her breast, - And with the jolly plowman she’ll whistle and she’ll sing, - And at night she’ll return to her nest back again. - - If you walk in the fields any pleasure to find, - You may see what the plowman enjoys in his mind; - There the corn he sows grows and the flowers do spring, - And the plowman’s as happy as a prince or a king. - - When his days work is done that he has to do, - Perhaps to some country walk he will go, - There with a sweet lass he will dance and sing, - And at night return with his lass back again. - - And as they return from the walk in the town, - When the meadows is mowed and the grass is cut down, - If they chance for to tumble among the green hay, - It’s kiss me now or never the damsel will say. - - Then he rises next morning to follow his team, - Like a jolly plowman so neat and so trim; - If he kiss a pretty girl he will make her his wife, - And she loves her jolly plowman as dear as her life. - - Come Molly and Dolly let’s away to the wake, - There the plow boys will treat us with beer ale and cake, - And if in coming home they should gain their Ends, - Ne’er fear but they’ll marry us, or make us amends. - - There’s Molly and Dolly, Nelly and Sue, - There’s Ralph, John and Willie and young Tommy too; - Each lad takes his lass to the wake or the fair, - Adzooks they look rarely, I vow and declare. - - -FINIS - - - - -_HISTORY OF JOHN CHEAP THE CHAPMAN._ - - - [A Falkirk edition of this chap-book, printed by T. Johnston in - 1798, has been used here. The full title is--‘The History of John - Cheap the Chapman: containing above a Hundred Merry Exploits done - by him and his fellow Traveller, Drowthy Tam, a sticked Shaver. - In three parts.’ It has been usual to suspect that the work is - autobiographical to some extent.] - - - - -THE HISTORY OF JOHN CHEAP THE CHAPMAN. - - -PREFACE. - -John Cheap the chapman, was a very comical short thick fellow, with -a broad face and a long nose; both lame and lazy, and something -leacherous among the lasses: he chused rather to sit idle than work -at any time, as he was a hater of hard labour. No man needed to -offer him cheese and bread after he curst he would not have it; for -he would blush at bread and milk, when hungry, as a beggar doth at -a babee. He got the name of John Cheap the chapman, by his selling -20 needles for a penny, and twa leather laces for a farthing. He -swore no oaths but one, which was, Let me never sin. - -He used no imprecations, But let me never cheat nor be cheated, but -rather cheat, &c. - -He gave bad counsel to none but children, to burn the bonecombs, -that their mother might buy another when he came again. - -He never fought with any but dogs,[71] and the good wives daughters -in their daffing, and that’s not dangerous. - - -PART I. - -_The following relation is taken from his own mouth, verbatim._ - -I John Cheap by chance, at some certain time, doubtless against my -will, was born at the Hottom, near Habertehoy mill: My father was -a Scots Highlandman, and my mother a Yorkshire wench, but honest, -which causes me to be of a mongrel kind; I made myself a chapman -when very young, in great hopes of being rich when I became old; -but fortune was fickle and so was I; for I had not been a chapman -above two days, until I began to consider the deep ditches, midden -dubs, biting dogs and wiet sacks: And what comfort is it, says -I, to lye in a cows oxter, the length of a cold winter night: to -sit behind backs, till the kail be a cuttied up, and then to lick -colley’s leavings.[72] - -My first journey was through old Kilpatrick, all the day long I got -no meat nor money until the evening, I began to ask for lodging, -then every wife to get me away, would either give me a cogful of -kail, or piece of cake. Well says I to myself, if this be the way, -I shall begin in the morning to ask for lodging, or any time when -I am hungry. Thus I continued going from house to house, until my -belly was like to burst, and my pockets could hold no more; at -last I came to a farmer’s house, but thinking it not dark enough -to prevail for lodging, sat down upon a stone at the end of the -house, till day-light would go away out of the west; and as I was -going to get up to go in to the house, out comes the goodwife, as I -supposed her to be, and sat down at the end of the stone I being at -the other, there she began to make off her water with full force, -which I bore with, very modestly, till near an end; then she made -the wind follow with such force, as made (as I thought) the very -stone I leaned upon to move, which made me burst out into laughter; -then up gets the wife, and runs for it; I followed hard after into -the house, and as I entered the house, I heard the goodman, saying, -Ay, ay, goodwife, What’s the haste, you run so? - -No more passed, until I addressed myself to the goodman for -quarters; which he answered, “Indeed lad, we hae nae beds but -three, my wife and I, our sells twa, and the twa bits a little -anes, Willie and Jenny lies in ane, the twa lads our twa servant -men Willie Black and Tam, lies in anither, and auld Mags my mither, -and the lass Jean Tirram lies the gither, and that fills them a’.” -O but says I, Goodman, there is some of them fuller than others, -you may let me lie with your mither and the lass; I shall ly heads -and thraws wi’ them, and keep on my breeks. A good keep me, quo’ -the lass, frae a’ temptations to sin, altho’ thou be but a callen, -heth I’ll rather ly wi’ Sannock Garner. No, no, cries the goodwife, -he’s no be here the night. Dear good-wife, said I, what ails you -at me? a d--l be here, an’ ye be here the night, said she; ho, -ho, said I, but I’m here first, and first com’d first serv’d, -good-wife; but an’ the ill thief be a friend of your’s, you’ll have -room for him too. Ye thief like widdyfu’, said she, are ye evening -me to be sib to the foul thief; it’s weel kend I am come of good -honest fouks: It may be so goodwife, said I, but ye look rather -the other way, when ye would lodge the d--l in your house and ca’ -out a poor chapman to die, such a stormy night as this. What do ye -say! says she, there was na a bonnier night since winter came in -nor this. O goodwife, what are you saying! Do ye not mind, when -you and I was at the east end of the house, such a noise of wind -and water was then; a wae worth the filthy body, said she, is not -that in every part. What said the goodman, a wat well there was -nae rain when I came in: The wife then shuts me out, and bolted -the door behind me: Well, said I, but I shall be through between -thy mouth and thy nose or the morrow. It being now so dark, and I -a stranger, could see no place to go to, went into the corn yard, -but finding no loose straw I fell a drawing one of their stacks, -sheaf by sheaf, until I pulled out a threave or two, and got into -the hole myself, where I lay as warm as a pye; but the goodman in -the morning, perceiving the heap of corn sheaves, came running to -carry it away, and stop up the hole in the stack wherein I lay, -with some of the sheaves, so with the steighling of the straw, and -him cursing the thieves who had done it: I then skipping out of -the hole, ho, ho, said I, goodman, you’re not to bury me alive in -your stack: He then began to chide me, vowing he would keep my pack -for the damage I had done: whereupon, I took his servants witnesses -he had robbed me; when hearing me urge him so, he gave me my pack -again, and off I came to the next house, where I told the whole -story. - -My next exploit was near Carluke, between Hamiltown and Lanerk: -Where on a cold stormy night, I came to a little town with four or -five houses in it; I went twice through it, but none of them would -give me the credit to stand all night among their horse, or yet to -ly in their cow’s oxter: At last I prevailed with a wife, if her -husband was willing, to let me stay, if he was not against it, to -which he answered, “If I should ly in his midden-dib, I should get -no quarters from him that night; a wheen lazy idle villains rins a -to be chapman, comes through the country fashing fouks, ay seeking -quarters; the next day ye’ll be gaun wi’ a powder’d pirrewig, and a -watch at your arse, and winna let fouk stand afore your chop doors, -ye’ll be sae saucy.” - -After hearing my sentence from the goodman, expecting no relief -but to ly without, yet I perceived when he came out of the barn, -he only drew too the door behind him: So when he was gone, I slipt -into the barn, and by help of one of the kiples, climbs up the -mou, and there dives down among the sheaves, and happed myself all -over, so that I lay as warm as the goodman himself. But in the -morning long before day, two fellows came into the barn, and fell -a threshing, that by their disturbance I could sleep no more; at -last I got up with all my hair hanging over my face, and when he -that stood on the opposite side perceived me, I made my eyes to -roll, and wrayed my face in a frightful manner, so that the poor -fellow supposed he had seen the deil, or something as ill, gave a -rore as if he had been sticked, and out at the door he runs; the -other following after him crying, Wa’ Johny man, what did you see? -O! Sandy, Sandy, the deil’s on the tap o’ the mou’, sheavling his -mouth at me; I’ll not be so well this month man, my heart’s out -o’ its hole, wou but yon be a fearfu’ like fake indeed, it would -fright ony living creature out o’ their senses. - -I hearing the fear they were in, cried unto them not to be -frighted, for I was not the deil, but a poor chapman who could not -get quarters last night a foul fa’ thy carcase sir, for our Jock is -through the midden-dib, dirt and a’ the gither; he who went last -came again, but the other man ran into the house, and told what he -had seen: The goodman and his wife came running, he with a grape in -his hand, and her with the Bible,[73] the one crying Sandy, Sandy, -is’t true that the deil was in the barn; Na, na, said he, it’s but -a chapman, but poor Jock has gotten a fright wi’ him. They laughed -heartily at the sport, took me in to breakfast, and by this time -poor Johnny was gone to bed.[74] - -After this I travelled up the water of Clyde, near the foot of -Tintock-hill, where I met with a sweet companion, who was an older -traveller than I, who gave me more information how to blow the -goodwife, and sleek the goodman, with him I kept company for two -months, and as we travelled down Tweed towards the border we being -both hungry and could get nothing to buy for the belly, we came -unto a wife who had been kirning, but she would give us nothing, -nor sell so much as one halfpenny’s worth of her sour milk; Na, -na, said she, I’ll neither sell butter, bread or milk, it’s a’ -little enough to sair my ain family: ye that’s chapman may drink -water, ye dinna work sair. Ay, but goodwife, said I, I hae been at -Temple-bar, where I was sworn ne’er to drink water, if I could get -better: What do ye say, said she, about Temple-bar? A town just -about twa three mile and a bittock frae this: A thief ane was to -swear there, an’ it wasna’ auld Willie Miller the cobler, the ill -thief a neither minister nor magistrate ever was in’t a’. - -O but says the other lad, the Temple-bar he means by is at London. -Yea, yea, lad, an ye be cum’d frae London ye’re no muckle worth, -for the fouks there awa, is a’ witches and warlocks, deils, -brownies and fairies.[75] We’ll a wat that is true, said I, and -that thou shalt know, thou hard hearted wretch, who would have -people to starve or provoke them to steal. With that I rose and -lifts twa or three long straws, and casting knots on them, into -the byre I went and throws a knotted straw to every cows stake, -saying, Thy days shall not be long: The wife followed, wringing her -hands, earnestly praying for herself and all that was hers. I then -came out at the door, and lifted a stone, running three times round -about, and threw it over the house,[76] muttering some words, which -I knew not myself, and concluding with these words, “Thou Monsieur -Diable,[77] brother to Beelzebub god of Ekron, take this wife’s -kirn, butter and milk, sap and substance, without and within, so -that she may die in misery, as she would have others to live.”[78] - -The wife hearing the aforsaid sentence, clapt her hands, and called -out another old woman as foolish as herself, who came crying after -us to come back, back we went, when she made us eat heartily of -butter and cheese; then she earnestly pleaded with me to go and -lift my cantrups, which I did, upon her promising never to deny -a hungry traveller meat nor drink, whether they had money to pay -for’t or not: and never to serve the poor with the old proverb, Go -home to your own parish;[79] but give them less or more, as ye see -them in need. This faithfully she promisee to do while she lived, -and with milk, we drank towards her cow’s health and her own, not -forgetting her husband and the bull’s, as the one was goodman of -the house, and the other of the byre; and away we came in all -haste, lest some of a more understanding nature should come to hear -of it, and follow after us.[80] - -In a few days thereafter we came to an ale-house in a moor, far -distant from any other, it being a sore day of wind and rain, we -could not travel therefore was obliged to stay there, and the house -being very throng, we could get no bed but the servant lasses, -which we was to have for a pennyworth of pins and needles, and -she was to ly with her master and mistress: But as we were going -to bed, in comes three Highland drovers on their way home from -England; the landlord told them that the beds were all taken up -but one, that two chapmen was to ly in; one of them swore, his -broad sword should fail him, if a chapman lay there that night. -They took our bed, and made us sit by the fire all night: I put on -a great many peats, and when the drovers were fast asleep, I put -on a big brass pan full of water, and boiled their brogs therein, -for the space of half an hour, then lays them as they were, every -pair by themselves; so when they rose, every one began to chide -another, saying, “Hup, pup, ye sheing a brog,” for not one of them -would serve a child of ten years of age, being so boil’d in, the -landlord persuaded them that their feet was swelled with their hard -traveling, being so wet last night, and they would go on well -enough if they had travelled a mile or two. Now the Highlandmen -laught at me the night before, when they lay down in the bed I was -to have; but I laught as much to see them all three trot away in -the morning with their boil’d brogs in their hands. - - -PART II. - -We came again to a place near Sutry-hill, where the ale was good, -and very civil usage, and our drought being very great the more we -drank, the better we lov’d it: and here we fell in company with a -quack doctor, who bragged us with bottle about, for two days and -two nights, only when one fell drunk, we pushed and pricked him -with a big prin, to keep him from sleeping. He bought of our hair, -and we of his pills and drugs, he having as much knowledge of the -one, as we had of the other, only I was sure, I had as much as -would set a whole parish to the midden or mug, all at once. - -But at last our money ran short, and the landlady had no chalk nor -faith to credit us seeing by our coats, courage, and conduct, that -we would little mind performance against the day of payment, so -then we began to turn sober and wise behind the hand, and every -one of us to seek supply from another, and when we collected all -the money we had amongst us, on the table, it was but fourpence -halfpenny, which we lovingly divided among us, but only three -babees a piece, and as Drouthy Tom’s stock and mine was conjunct, -we gave the quack again his sh----g stuff and stinking drugs, and -he gave us our goods and hair, which we equally divided betwixt -us, the whole of it only came to eighteen shillings and sixpence -prime cost, and so we parted; I went for East Lothian, and Tom for -the West; but my sorting of goods being very unsuitable for that -country, I got but little or no money, which caused me to apply -to the goodman for to get lodging, and it being upon a Saturday’s -night was hard to be found till very late in the night. I prevailed -to get staying in a great farmers house, about two miles from -Haddington; they were all at supper when I went in; I was ordered -to sit down behind their backs, the goodwife then took a dish, went -round the servants, and collected a soup out of every cog,[81] -which was sufficient to have served three men; the goodwife ordered -me to be laid in the barn all night for my bed, but the bully-fac’d -goodman swore he had too much stuff in it, to venture me there, -the goodwife said I should not ly within the house, for I would -be o’er near the lasses bed, then the lads swore I should not go -with them,[82] for I was a forjesket like fellow, and (wha kens -whether I was honest or not) he may fill his wallet wi’ our cloaths -and gang his wa’ or day light. At last I was conducted out to the -swine’s stye, to sleep with an old sow and seven pigs, and there I -lay for two nights[83] In the night the young pigs came gruzling -about me very kindly, thinking I was some friend of their mother’s -come to visit them; they gave me but little rest, always coming -kissing me with their cold noses, which caused me to beat them off -with my staff, which made them to make a terrible noise, so that -their old mother came up to argue the matter, running upon me with -open mouth, but I gave her such a rout over her long snout, which -caused her to roar out murder in her own language that alarmed -the servants where they lay, who came to see what was the matter, -I told them, their old sow was going to swallow me up alive, bid -them to go and bring her meat, which they did, and the brute became -peaceable. - -On the Sabbath morning I came into the house, the goodman asked -me if I could shave any, yes, said I, but never did on the -Sabbath-day. I fancy, said he, you are some Westland Whig?[84] -Said I, you may suppose me to be what you think proper to day, but -yesternight you used me like a Tory, when you sent me into a stye -to ly in your sow’s oxter, who is a fitter companion for a devil, -than any human creature, the abominablest brute upon the earth, -said I, who was forbidden to be eaten under the law, and cursed -under the gospel[85]: Be they curs’d or be they bless’d said he, I -wish I had anew of them; but an’ ye will not tak aff my beard, ye’s -get nae meat here the day; then said I, if you will give me meat -and drink for money, until the Sabbath be past, I’ll take on my -wallat, and go along with you to the kirk, and tell your minister -how you used me as a hog. No said the goodwife, you shall not want -your crowdie man. But my heart being full of sorrow and revenge, a -few of them sufficed me. - -On the morning I went into the house, the goodman ordered me -the pottage pot to lick, for, says he it is an old property to -chapmen. Well I had no sooner begun to it, then out came a great -big mastiff dog from below the bed, and grips me by the breast, -then turns me over upon my back, and takes the pot himself; Ay, ay, -said the goodman I think your brother pot-licker and you cannot -agree about your breakfast? A well said I, goodman, you said that -pot-licking was a chapman’s property, but your dog proves the -contrary: So away I comes and meeting the goodwife at the door, -bids her farewel for ever; but what said I is your husband’s name? -to which she answered, John Swine, I was thinking so, said I, he -has such dirty fashions: but whether was yon his mother or his -sister, I lay with these two nights. - -All that day I travelled the country west from Haddington, but -could get no meat; when I asked if they had any to sell, they told -me, they never did sell any bread, and I found by sad experience, -they had none to give for nothing. I came unto a little country -village, and went through it all, house after house, and could get -neither bread nor ale to buy; At last I came to a poor weavers -house, and asked him if he could lend me a hammer? Yes, said he, -What are you going to do with it? Indeed said I, I am going to -knock out all my teeth with it, for I can get no bread to buy in -all this country, for all the stores and stacks you have in it: -What said he, was you in the minister’s? I know not said I, does -he keep an ale-house? O na, said he, he preaches every Sunday: and -does he preach, said I? is it to harden your hearts? haud well -together? have no charity? hate strangers? hunger the poor? eat and -drink all yourselves? better burst your bellies then give it to -beggars, or let good meat spoil[86]: if your minister be as naughty -as his people, I’m positive he’ll drive a louse to London for the -hide and tallow. Here I bought the weaver’s dinner for twopence, -and then set out again, keeping my course westward. It being now -night, I came to a farmer’s house south from Dalkieth, the goodman -being very civil, and desirous of news, I related the whole -passages of two days and nights by-past; whereat he was greatly -diverted, and said, I was the first he heard of, that ever that man -gave quarters to before, though he was an elder of the parish. So -the goodman and I fell so thick, that he ordered me to be laid on -a shake down bed beyond the fire, where I lay more snug than among -the swine. - -Now there was three women lying in a bed in the same apartment, -and they not minding that I was there, first one of them rose and -let her water go in below the chimney-grate, where I had a perfect -view of her bonny-thing, as the coal-fire burnt so clearly all the -night, then another rose and did the same, last of all got up the -old matron, as she appear’d to be, like a second-handed goodwife, -or a whirl’d o’er maiden, six times overturned, and as she let her -dam go, she also with full force, when done, let a fart like the -blast of a trumpet, which made the dust on the hearth-stone to fly -up like mist about her arse, whereat I was forc’d to laugh out, -which made her run for it, but to smother the laughter I stapt the -blankets in my mouth; she went to bed and waken’d the other two -saying, O dole! what will I tell you? yon chapman has seen a’ our -a--ses the night; shame fa’ him, said they, for we had nae mind -he was there: I wat well, says one of them, I’se no rise till he -be awa’, but said the old woman, gin he has seen mine, I cannot -help it, it’s just like other folks, and fin’t a hair care I. In -the morning the old matron got up first and ordered up the house, -then told me to rise now for chapmen and every body was up, then -she asked me if I had an use of laughing in my sleep? Yes, said I, -when I see any daft like thing I can look and laugh at it, as well -sleeping as walking; A good preserve us, said she, ye’re an unco -body, but ye needna wait on our porridge time, I’se gie you cheese -and bread in your pouch, which I willingly accepted, and away I -came. - -Then I kept my course west by the Pentland hills, where I got -plenty of hair,[87] good and cheap, besides a great quantity of -old brass, which was an excellent article to make my little pack -seem big and weighty. Then I came into a little country village, -and going in by the side of the house, there was a great big cat -sitting in a weaver’s window, beiking herself in the sun, and -washing her face with her feet: I takes her a civil nap on the -nose, which made her turn back in through the window, and the -weaver having a plate full of hot pottage in the innerside to cool, -poor badrons ran through the middle of them, burnt her feet, and -threw them all to the ground, ran thro’ the house, crying fire -and murder in her own language, which caused the weary wicked -webster to come running to the door, where he attacked me in a -furious rage, and I to avoid the first shock, fled to the top -of the midden, where endeavouring to give me a kick, I catched -him by the foot, and tumbled him back over into the dirty midden -dub,[88] where both his head and shoulders went under dirt and -water; but before I could recover my elwand or arms, the wicked -wife and her twa sons was upon me in all quarters, the wife hung in -my hair, while the two sons boxed me about and before, and being -thus over-powered by numbers, I was fairly beat of by this wicked -webster, his troops being so numerous. - -The same day as I was going up to a country house, I met on the -way a poor beggar wife with a boy, who was both of them bitten -in different places by a big mastiff dog, they persuaded me to -turn back, but I said I should first see him: so up I goes to the -side of a hedge, and cuts a long bramble full of prickles, which -I carried in my left hand, with my sturdy staff in the right; and -as I came near the house, Mr. Youffer came roaring upon me like a -lion, he being a tyke of such a monstrous size, frighted me so that -I ran back; but he pursued me so hard, I was forced to face about, -and holding out the briar to him, which he gripped in his mouth, -and then I stripped it through his mouth, and gave him a hearty -blow upon his ear with my rung, which made him go tumbling to his -master’s door, and when he got up he could not fight any, his mouth -being so full of prickles by the biting of the briar, which caused -him go about yuling and rubbing his mouth with his foot, the people -of the house came running to bite me, but my briar had bitten him; -they then called him in, and fell to picking the pricks out of his -tongue. - - -PART III. - -I travelled then west by Falkirk, by the foot of the great hills; -and one night after I had got lodging in a farmer’s house, there -happened a contest between the goodman and his mother, he being a -young man unmarried, as I understood, and formerly their sowens had -been that thin, so the goodman being a sworn birley-man[89] of that -barony, came to survey the sowens before they went on the fire, and -actually swore they were o’er thin, and she swore by her conscience -they would be thick enough if ill hands and ill een[90] baed awa’ -from them: A sweet be here mither, said he, do ye think that -I’m a witch? Witch here or witch there, said the wife, swearing -by her saul, and that was nae banning, she said they’ll be good -substantial meat, a’ what say ye chapman? indeed goodwife, said -I, sowens is but saft meat at the best; but if ye make them thick -enough, and put a good lump of butter in them, they’ll do very -well for a supper: I true sae lad, said she, ye hae some sense; so -the old woman put on the pot with her sowens, and went to milk her -cows, leaving me to steer; the goodman her son, as soon as she went -out, took a great cog full of water and put it into the pot amongst -the sowens, and then went out of the house, and left me alone: I -considered what sort of a pish the bed supper I was to get if I -staid there, I thought to set out, but takes up the pitcher with -water, and fills up the pot until it was running over, and then -takes up my pack and comes about a mile farther that night, leaving -the honest woman and her son, to sup their watery witch’t sowens at -their own leisure. - -I then turned towards the east, through a place called Slamanen, -and was lodged one night near a place called Tod’s bughts, where -there was a boul-horn’d goodwife, but a very civil goodman, when -I went in, she took up a dish from the dog wherein was a few he -had left, and with a collection more from other cogs, she offered -them to me, which I refused, ’m, said she, ye’re a lordly sort of -a chapman indeed; so I began to divert the goodman, by telling -him a deal of fine stories to make him laugh, but could not get -near the fire, at last said, O goodwife, I’ll tell you news; ay, -chapman, what’s that, said she? indeed my feet’s very cauld, said -I, whereat they all laught but the goodwife, she gloom’d until the -rest was done, and then took a laugh at it herself: So the goodman -ordered the Johnies, Jamies and Jennies with their wheels to sit -about; then I was set beyond the fire, and preferred to steer their -sowens, but when they were ready and put up in dishes, the goodwife -order’d one of the lads to take a pair of old blankets and two -sacks, and shew me where I was to ly in the barn: Ho, ho, thinks I, -there’s no supper for me, but I’ll remember this, to pay her stock -and annual. So I went to the barn and lay till next morning, about -Chapman’s rising time, when pottage was ready, and then gives the -wife a fine cotton lace and a few pins, which pleased her so well, -that she went through the cogs and collected about a mutchkin of -pottage for me, for which I thanked her: “Awat well lad, said she, -an ye be coming buy ony time, ye’s be welcome to a night o’ our -barn, for ye hae na steal’d naething,” thanks to you goodwife, said -I, that’s very fair; “Indeed lad ’tis no every ane we’ll trust wi’ -our new barn, farfore sud we?” O goodwife, it wad be a great thief -that wad run awa’ wi’ a barn on his back I wonder ye let it stand -out all night: Hute awa’ ye daft body, how can we get it in, ke -awa’ chapman ye’re joking me now. - -I then took a turn round the country for two weeks, and then came -back to be avenged on the naughty wife and her sowens, it being -very dark or I came in, the goodwife did not know me, but made her -speech as follows: “Indeed, says she, ye’s no be here, for there -is so many thieves and robbers gawn a-thort the kintry, an our -goodman’s no at hame; is thou honest enough?” I can want nothing of -my honesty goodwife; but did you ever see any people gawn thro’ the -country, telling they were thieves? “Na, a wat well no, said she.” -Then, said I, I’m sure I did not take away your barn on my back the -last time I was here; “Yee lad, said she, are ye the chapman that -cracket sae well to our goodman? come in by, ye’s get a night o’ -the barn yet;” thanks to you goodwife and we sud get nae mair. I -then being preferred to my old seat and got the sowens to steer, -until they were near ready, when the goodwife ordered the lad to -take the old blankets, and shew me to my bed in the barn; I then -gave the sowens their last turn, and having about the bigness of a -nut of C--l S--p, drops it into the pot, then went off to bed in -the barn as fast as I could, and made fast both the doors within, -lest the bewitched sowens out of the pot should attack me in my -sleep: Next morning when I came in, the goodwife began to pray for -herself and all that she had, saying, “It’s Wednesday thro’ a’ the -warld and good be between you and me chapman, for ye’re either a -witch or a warlock, or something that’s no canny, for ye witch’t -our sowens last night, for they gaed mad, rag’d out o’ the pot, -belling and bizing like barm, I thought they wad run out to the -barn to you, see how they fill’d up my milk tub, and a’ the dishes -in the house is fu’ o’ them.” Dear goodwife, said I, they were very -good when I left them, tho’ I did not prie them, and wish’d them as -much good of them as I got, but certainly they’re not witcht, but a -blessing in them, when they are so multiplied: “Gae awa, cried she, -in a passion, ye’re no canny, ye’se ne’er be here again:” I need -not value that, said I, for I have nothing to thank you for, but my -dinner, supper, and breakfast, and for a night o’ your barn, I’ll -pay it when I come back: “Ay, ay, said she, ye need nae thank me -for what ye did not get:” that’s not my fault goodless good, said -I, prosperity to you and your witcht sowens.[91] - -The next little town I came to, and the first house which I -entered, the wife cried out, “plague on your snout sir, ye filthy -blackguard chapman like b--h it ye are, the last time ye came here -ye gard our Sandy burn the good bane kame it I gade a sax pence in -Falkirk, ay did ye, and sae did ye, and sae did ye een, and said, -ye wad gie him a muckle clear button to do it:” Me, said I, I never -had ado with you all the days of my life, and do not say that Sandy -is mine: “A wae wirth the body am I saying ye had ado wi’ me, I -wadna hae ado wi’ the like o’ you nor I am sure wi’ them I never -saw.” But what about the button and the bane kame goodwife? Sannock -is na this the man? Ay is’t cried the boy, gie me my button, for I -burnt the kame, and she paid[92] me for’t, Gae awa’ sir, said I, -your mother and you is but mocking me; it was either you or ane -like you, or some ither body. O goodwife, I mind wha’ it is now, -it’s ane just like me, when ye see the taen ye see the tither, they -ca’ him Jock Jimpither: A wae worth him quo’ the wife, if I winna -thrapple him for my good bane comb. Now said I, good wife be good, -bridle your passion, and buy a bane comb and colour’d napkin, I’ll -gie you a whaken penny-worth will gar you sing in your bed, If I -should sell you the tae half, and gift you the tither, and gar you -pay for every inch of it sweetly or a’ be done: Hech man, said -she, ye’re a hearty fallow, and I hae need o’ a’ these things, for -our Sannock’s head is a’ hotchen, and our John’s is little better, -for an’ let them alane but ae eight days, they’ll grow as grit as -grosets. And here I sold a bone comb and a napkin, for she believed -such a douse lad as I, had no hand in making her boy burn the bone -comb. - -The next house I came into, there was a very little taylor, sitting -on a table like a t--d on a truncher, with his legs plet over -other, made me imagine he was a sucking three footed taylor, first -I sold him a thimble, and then he wanted needles, which I showed -him one paper after another, he looking their eyes and trying -their nebs in his sleeve, dropt the ones he thought proper on the -ground between his feet, where he sat in a dark corner near the -fire, thinking I would not perceive him: O, said he, them needles -of yours is not good man, I’ll no buy any of them, I do no not -think you need, said I, taking them out of his hand, and lights a -candle was standing near by, come, said I, sit about you thieving -dog till I gather up my needles, gathers up ten of them, come said -he, I’ll buy twal-penny’s worth of them, since I troubled you sae -muckle; no, said I, you lazie dog, I’ll sell you none, if there’s -any on the ground, seek them up and stap them in a beast’s a--se, -but if ye were a man I would burn thee in the fire, tho’ it be in -your own house, but as your a poor taylor and neither man nor boy, -I’ll do nothing but expose you for what you are. O dear honest -chapman, cried his wife, ye mauna do that and I’ll gie you cheese -and bread. No, no, you thieves, I’m for nothing but vengeance; no -bribes, for such: So as I was lifting my pack, there was a pretty -black cat which I spread over with my napkin, and took the four -corners in my hand, carrying her as a bundle, untill I came about -the middle of the town, then provoking the dogs to an engagement -with me, so that there came upon me four or five collies, then I -threw the poor taylor’s cat in the midst of them, there a terrible -battle ensued for some time, and badrons had certainly died on the -field had I not interposed, and got her off mortally wounded; the -people who saw the battle, alarmed the taylor, and he sallied out -like a champion with his elwand in his hand, go back, said I, you -lousie dog, or I’ll tell about the needles, at which word he turned -about. I went to an ale-house to get some breakfast, there they -asked me where I was all night, as it was usual for chapmen to get -meat where they lodged, I told where it was, but would take none -of their meat, they seem to me not to be canny, for this morning -they were making ropes of cold sowens to crown their stacks wi: Gae -awa’, cried the wife, I cannot believe it. Die in your ignorance -for me: The wife sent away her son to see if it was so, but or he -came back I set out, and travelled down the side of a water called -Evan: and as I was coming past a mill dam, there was a big clownish -fellow lifting a pitcher of water out of the dam, so as he dipt -it full and set down on the ground, staring at me, he tumbled in -himself out of sight o’er head and ears, and as soon as he got -out, I said, Yo ho friend, Did you get the fish? What an’ a fish -ye b--h, O said I, I thought ye, seen a fish, when you jumped in -to make it jump out: What a d--l sir, are you mocking me? runs -round his pitcher, and gives me a kick on the a--se, so that I fell -designedly on his pitcher, and tumbling it down the bank, went in -pieces, his master and another man looking and laughing at us, the -poor fellow complained of me to him, but got no satisfaction. - -The same evening, as I was going towards the town of Linlithgow, -meets an old crabet fellow riding upon an old glaied mare, which -he always was a threshing upon with his stick: Goode’en to you -goodman, said I, are you going to the bull wi’ your mare? What -do ye say sir, they gang to the bull wi’ a cow ye brute. O yes -goodman, ye are right, said I, but how do they call that he beast -that rides on the mare’s back, they ca’t a cusser sir, a well then -goode’en to you Master Cusser. He rides a little bit, then turns -back in a rage, saying, I say sir, your last words are war nor your -first, he comes then at the flight to ride me down, but I struck -his beast on the face, and in the short turn about it fell, yet -or I got my pack to the ground, he cutted me on the head at the -first stroke, and then getting clear of the pack, played it away -for some time, till by blows on the face, I made him blood at both -mouth and nose; then he cried out, chapman, we are baith daft, for -we’ll kill oursells and make nothing o’t, we had better gree, with -all my heart, said I, and what will ye buy? nothing but a pair of -beard sheers, said he, and give me them cheap, so I sold him a pair -of sheers for three half-pence, and gave him a needle, then parted -good friends after the battle was over. - -So I went to Linlithgow that night, where I met with Drouthy Tom my -dear companion, and here we had a most terrible encounter with the -tipenny for two nights and a day, and then we set out for Fife on -the hair order, by way of Torryburn and Culross and coming up to a -parcel of women washing by a water side, I buys one of their hairs, -the time I was cutting it off, Tom fell a courting and kissing a -girl among them, but she fell to crying against him, saying ye have -put your hands a-tween my feet; cries an old wife, mony a ane has -taen me by there, and I ne’er said a word about it, a-wheen daft -jades, canna ye had your tongues whan its to your shame ye speak; -gae wa’, cried the lass the filthy body at he is, the last chapman -that kist me had a horse-pack, but he’ll hae naething in his but -a whisp of strae, some auld breeks, hare skins, maukin skins, ony -thing that fills the bag and bears bouk, and yet he would kiss and -handle me, hech I was made for a better fallow, ane of them came by -ae day, and sell’d our Meg twa ell and a quarter o’ linnen to be -her bridal sark, for he had nae mair, and when she made it, and put -it on, it wadna hide her hech, hech, he. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_LEPER THE TAYLOR._ - - - [The following pages contain a reprint of a chap-book which had - a long run of popularity. The edition followed bears this on - the title-page:--‘Fun upon Fun: or, the Comical Merry Tricks - of Leper the Taylor. Stirling: Printed and sold by C. Randall, - MDCCXCIX.’ It consists of 16 pp., and each of the two parts has a - title-page.] - - - - -THE COMICAL TRICKS OF LEPER THE TAYLOR.[93] - - -PART I. - -Leper’s father lived in a village about six miles from Glasgow, -and died when Leper was but very young, he left a widow and three -children, two daughters and a son, and Leper being the youngest, -was greatly idolized by his mother, who was a good soft natured -woman, very industrious, and followed the business of bleaching of -cloth. - -As Leper grew up, he turned a very mischievous boy, playing tricks -on the neighbourhood, such as tying cats to dogs-tails, breaking -hen’s legs, stoping people’s lumbs or chimney-tops; so that his -poor mother was sadly vex’d with complaints against him. - -To get him kept from mischief, she prevailed with a taylor to take -him an apprentice, he settled and was very peaceable for some time, -until he had got so much of the trade on his finger-ends as he -might pass for a journey-man, and then he was indifferent whether -he stayed with his master or not; his mistress gave him but very -little meat when they wrought at home, so he loved best to be in -other houses, where he got both meat and diversion.[94] - -Leper being resolved on revenge against his mistress, for her thin -kail, no kitchen and little bread; for tho’ flesh was boiled in -the pot, none for poor Leper and his master, but a little bit on -Sabbaths, and all the bones were kept, and put in the pot, to make -the broth thro’ the week. Leper perceived always when she took off -the pot, she turned her back to them and took out the flesh, and -set it on a shelf within her own bed;[95] one night after work, -he steals out a pan, cuts a piece of flesh out of a dead horse, -then goes to a lime kiln and boils it; next day his master being -from home, his landlady and him being in the house, after she had -set off the pot as usual, and taken out her bit of good beef, he -goes out for some time, and then comes in, saying, The minister’s -lass is wanting you to go directly and speak to her mistress, away -she goes in all haste, Leper runs and takes away her bit of good -beef, and lays down his horse-flesh, and knowing she would soon -return in a passion, and sit down with a sosse in her cushion’d -chair as she used, he takes a large prin and staps it straight up -through the cushion, with its head on the chair and the point to -her back-side: in she comes in a rage, and down she sits with all -her weight on the prin point, and she roars out, Murder, murder, -for she was sticket through the a--se, the neighbours came running -in, and Leper got out with his bit of good beef, leaving the wives -to doctor his landlady’s doup as they pleased; he still denied the -doing of it, and his master believed it might happen accidentally, -but the Houdie was very often to be had before the hole was got -heal again; and his landlady by eating of that horse-beef, took a -loathing at flesh, so Leper and his master got all the beef to eat -ever after, and his landlady turned one of the kindest mistresses a -prentice could wish for. - -There was a neighbour wife on which Leper used to play tricks -sometimes, for which she came and complained to his master, and -got him severely beaten[96] several times: Leper resolved to be -revenged on her, so one day he came to the back-side of her house, -(no body being within but herself) and took up a big stone, and -runs it along the rough wall with all his force, which roared like -thunder in the inside of the house, and frightened the wife so, -that she thought the house was tumbling down about her ears, upon -which she ran out and sat down at a distance, looking when the -house would fall down, till her husband came home, to whom she told -the above story, ‘Hout daft Taupie, said he, the house will stand -these hundred years,’ so by his persuasion they both went into the -house, Leper (knowing they were both in) comes back and plays the -same trick over again, which frighted the goodman also so much, -that he cried out, ‘Run Maggy run, for my heart plays a’ pitty -patty,’ and they would not lodge in the house any more, till the -masons convinced them of its sufficiency. - -There was another neighbour who had a snarling curr dog, which bit -Leper’s leg; Leper resolved to be revenged on the dog, and so, -one night he catches the dog and carries him to the kirk, where -the rope of the bell hang upon the outside, so with his garter he -tied the dog’s fore-foot to the rope, and left him hanging; the -dog struggling to get free, set the bell a ringing, which alarmed -the whole village, every one cried out, ‘Wonderful sirs! Wonderful -sirs![97] the de’il is ringing the bell.’ When they saw the black -colley hanging the rope, I true it set the minister and all the -people to their prayers:[98] but Leper fearing he would be found -out by his garter, came to the minister’s side and asked the -reverend gentleman, what was the matter? Indeed my bairn (said he) -it’s the de’il ringing the kirk-bell; says Leper, I’ll go and see -him, for I never saw the de’il; the minister cry’d, Stop that mad -laddie, but Leper ran and loused the dog, crying, It’s such a man’s -dog, which had the rope in his teeth, they all cried out, ‘The -de’il is in the dog, the de’il is in the dog,’ took up some stones -and fell’d poor colley, and the de’il got the blame of making the -dog ring the bell, this spread Leper’s fame for being one of the -wisest and most couragious taylors that was in all the kingdom; and -many shaking their heads, said, ‘It was a pity he was a taylor, but -a captain or general of an army, as the devil could not fear him.’ - -After this a farmer in the neighbourhood, hearing the fame of -Leper, how he had frighted the de’il frae being a bell-man, sent -for him to an ale-house, and drank with him very heartily, and told -him he was sadly born down with the spirit of jealousy against his -wife, on suspicion of being too free with a servant-lad she had -before, and if he would keep it secret, and learn him how to find -it out, he would give his mother a load of meal, to which Leper -and him agrees, so he gave the poor supposed cockold instructions -how to behave. So home he goes and feigns himself to be very sick, -and every day worse and worse, taking death to him, blesses his -three small children, and charges his wife not to marry until his -children could do something for themselves: This hypocritical -woman takes the roaring, a-ha, marry, she would never marry! No, -no, there should never man ly by her side, nor kiss her lips after -thee, my lamb Johnny----Then he acted the dying man as well as -possibly he could, the neighbours were called in, and he’s fair -o’erseen[99] as the old saying is, Before good neighbours; the -sorrowful widow made a sad lament, wrung her hands, and tearing -her hair,----the reverend women[100] about began to dress the -corpse, asked her for a shirt, ay, ay, said she, He has twa new -linen sarks, and there is an auld ane in the bottom of the kist -it nae body can wear, just take it, ony thing is good enough for -the grave; well, said they, we must have some linen for a winding -sheet, a’well, co’ she, I ha’ twa cut o’ linen in the kist, but -there is a pair of auld linen sheets hol’d in the mids, may do -well enough, I had need to be carefu’, I’m a poor widow the day, -wi’ three sma’ bairns. Awell, the corpse is dress’d, and laid on -the top of a big chest, while the neighbours sat by her condoling -her misfortune, and wondering how the funeral raisins were to be -provided; said one, the coffin must be seen about first. Ay, ay, -said she, he has some new deals in the barn he bought to mak a bed -o’, but we’ll no break them, there is the auld barn-door and the -chaff-kist will do well enough, ony thing’s good enough to gang to -the grave; but O, co’ she, send for Sandy my honest auld servant, -and he’ll see every thing right done, I’ll tell him where he’ll -get siller to do ony thing wi’, he’s the lad it will not see me -wrang’d; then Sandy comes wrying his face and rubbing his eyes, O -Sandy, there is a sad alteration here, and ba-a-a she cries like -a bitten calf, O sirs, will ye gang a’ butt the house till I tell -Sandy what to do; butt they goes, and there she fell a kissing -of Sandy, and said, Now my dear, the auld channering ghaist is -awa,’ and we’ll get our will o’ ither; be as haining of every -thing as you can, for thou kens it’s a’ thy ain; but the corpse’s -sister and some other people came in, and ben they came to see the -corpse, lifts the cloth off his face, and seeing him all in a pour -of sweat, said, Hegh, he’s a bonny corp,[101] and a lively like -colour, when he could no longer contain to carry on the joke, but -up he got amongst them, a deal of the people ran for it, and his -wife cried out, O my dear, do ye ken me? Ay ye base jade and whore, -better than ever I did. Jumps on to the floor and gets his staff, -and runs after Sandy, and catches him in the fields a little from -the house, gives him a hearty beating, never tell’d him for what; -returns to the house, ate and drank with his sister and neighbours -who had come to see his corpse; poor Sandy went home with a skinful -of terror, and a sorting of sore bones, took a sore fever, and died -in a few days after, so he got quit of his cockler, and Leper’s -mother got her meal. - -Leper’s mother was a careful industrious wife, but as the by-word -is ‘A working mother makes a daly daughter,’ and so it happened -here, for she had two idle glaket sluts of daughters, that would -do nothing but ly in their bed in the morning, till (as the saying -is) ‘The sun was like to burn a hole in their backsides;’ the old -woman being at this time busy bleaching some cloth, was very early -at work in the mornings, and Leper’s patience was worn out with the -laziness of his two sisters, and he resolved to play a trick on -them for their reformation; so he goes and gets a mortcloth[102] -and spreads it upon the bed above them, and sends the dead -bell[103] thro’ the town, inviting the people to his sisters’ -burial the next day, at four o’clock afternoon, for they had died -suddenly; this brought all the neighbour-wives in, who one after -another lifted the mortcloth, and said with a great sigh, ‘They’re -gone to their rest, a sudden call indeed!’ Their aunt hearing of -this sudden news, came running in all haste, and coming through the -green where the jades mother was at work, who was ignorant of the -story, she cries out, ‘Fy upon you, woman, fy upon you,’ says she. -What’s the matter, sister? What’s the matter? ‘I think ye may let -your work stand for ae day, when your daughters are lying corpse.’ -My bairns corpse! I am certain they went to bed heal and fair last -night. But I tell you (says the other) the dead bell has been -through the town, warning the folk to the burial, then the mother -cries out, ‘O the villain, O the villain, that he did not send me -word.’ So they both ran, and the mother as soon as she entered the -house, flies into the bed, crying, ‘O my bairns, my dear bairns!’ -on which the sluts rises up in a consternation, to the great -surprize of the beholders, and to the great diversion of the whole -town, and to the great mortification of girls, who thought shame to -set their noses out of doors. - -Leper and his master went to a gentleman’s house to work, where -there was a saucy house-keeper, who had more ignorance and -pride, than good sense and manners; she domineered over her -fellow-servants in a tyrannical manner; Leper resolved to mortify -her pride; so he finds an ant’s nest, and takes their white -eggs, grinds them to a powder, and puts them into the dish her -supper-sowens was to be put in. After she had taken her supper, -as she was covering the table, the imock-powder began to operate, -and she let a great fart, well done Margaret, says the laird, she -runs away for shame, but before she turned herself round, she gives -another raird. My faith, says the Laird, Margaret, your arse would -take a cautioner; before she got out of the chamber-door, she lets -fly another crack; then she goes to order her fellow-servant to -give the laird his supper, but before she could give the necessary -directions, she gave fire again, which set them all a laughing; she -runs into a room by herself, and there she played away her one gun -battery so fast, as she had been sieging the Havannah. The laird -and lady came to hear the fun, they were like to split their sides -at proud Maggy, so next morning she left the place, to the great -joy of her fellow servants. - - -(The end of the First Part.) - - N.B.--In the Second Part, will be a deal of very diverting - Stories done by LEPER, when he was a Journeyman and Master. - - -PART II.[104] - -Leper’s Landlady became very harsh to his Master, and very often -abused him exceeding sore with both tongue and hands, and always -chided upon him for more money, and to have all the money in her -keeping, which Leper was very sorry for. It so happened on a day, -after the Taylor had got a hearty drubbing with tongue and tongs, -that he pouch’d his thimble, and was going to make a Queen of her? -when she saw that, she cried out, ‘O will you leave me, a poor -tender, dying woman?’ But Leper knowing the cause of her cursed -ill-nature better than his Master did, advised him to take her on -a fine day, like a mile out of town, and give her a walk, and he -would stay at home, and study a remedy for her disorder.----Away -they goes, but as she was always complaining of her health, and -that she was very weak, she cry’d out frequently, ‘O it is a crying -sin to take a woman in my condition out o’er a door.’ During their -absence, Leper goes and searches her bed, and below the bolster -he gets a bottle of rare whisky, of which he takes a hearty pull, -and then pisses in it to make it up again, gets a halfpenny worth -of snuff and puts it in also, shakes all together, and so sets it -in its place again. Home they came again, and she was exceedingly -distressed as a woman could be, and cry’d out, ‘It was a horrid -thing to take her out of a house.’ The taylor seeing her so bad, -thought she would have died, and ran as fast as he could and -brought her a dram, but she in her hypocrisy pretended she could -not take it, and called him to help her to bed. Into her bed he -lays her, and he was not well gone until she fell to her bottle, -taking two or three hearty gluts, then she roars out murder, for -she was poisoned, she was poisoned. Bocking and purging began, -and the neighbours are called in, she leaves her blood on poor -Leper, and tells how such an honest woman brought her ae bottle -as another was done, and the murdering lown had stole it, and put -in a bottle of poison instead of it. Leper took to his heels, but -was pursued and carried before a Justice of the Peace, where he -told what he had done, which made the Justice laugh heartily at the -joke, and the Taylor’s wife was well purged both from her feigned -sickness, laziness, and cursed ill nature, for always when she -began to curl her nose for the future, the Taylor had no more to -say, ‘But, Maggy, Maggy, mind the bottle.’ - -Leper was working with a master taylor in Glasgow, who hungered his -men, and one morning just as the breakfast was set on the table, -in comes a gentleman to try on a suit of clothes, the Master being -obliged to rise, desired the lads to say the grace themselves, -every one refused it, and put it to his neighbour, till Leper took -it, and said as follows, with an audible voice, that the stranger -gentleman might overhear him; “Oh, hoch, we are a parcel of poor -beastly bodies, and we’re as beastly guided, if we do not work we -get nothing to eat, yet we are always eating and always fretting, -fidging and half fasting is like to be our fortune, scartings and -scrapings are the most of our mouthfu’s; we would fain thank thee -for thy fulness if ever it were so, but the rest of our benefactors -are not worth the acknowledging, hech hey, Amen,” which made the -gentleman laugh till he held his sides, and gave Leper half a crown -to drink. - -Leper was not long done with his apprenticeship till he set up -for himself, and got a journeyman and an apprentice, was coming -into very good business, and had he restrained his roguish tricks -might have done very well. He and his lads being employed to work -in a farmer’s house, where the goodwife was a great miser, and not -very cleanly in making ready of meat, and snivel’d greatly when -she spoke. In the morning when she went to make their pottage, she -made a fashion of washing the pot, which to appearance seemed to -him to be among the first pots that had been made; then she set it -down before the fire till she went to the well, in which time Leper -looking into it, sees two great holes in the bottom stopped with -clouts, he takes up his goose, and holds it as high as his head, -then lets it fall into the pot, which knocked out the bottom of it; -presently in comes the wife with the water, and pours it into the -pot, which set the fire-side all in a dam, for still as she poured -it in, it ran out, the wife being short-sighted, or what they call -sand-blind, looks into the pot, holds up both her hands and cries, -“The losh preserve me, sirs, for the grip atween the twa holes is -broken;” says Leper the pot was old enough, but do you not ken that -taylor’s pottage is heavier than other mens: indeed lad, said she, -I believe it is sae, but they say ye’re a Warlock, it’s Wednesday -a’ the warld o’er,[105] and a woful Wednesday to me indeed, my -pot might have lasted me this fifty years, a sae wad it een.[106] -This sport diverted Leper and his lads thro’ the day, and after -supper, knowing he was to get but some dirty bed, as the cows and -the people lived all in one apartment,[107] he chused rather to go -home; and knowing the moon was to rise a little after midnight, -they sat long by the fire, told them many a fine story to drive -away the time, and bade the wife go and make their bed to see how -it might be; to save candle she made it in the dark, directly on -the floor behind where they sat, shaking down two bottles of straw: -a calf which chanced to be lying on that spot, and which the wife -did not notice, was covered up with the straw, and the bed clothes -spread over all. The most of the family being gone to bed, the -wife told them several times to go to bed also; but Leper knowing -of the calf, said, I’ll make my bed come to me, on which the wife -began to pray for herself, and all that was in the house; so up -he gets his elwand, and gives a stroke on the bed, which caused -the brute to get up, and not seeing where to go, it fell a crying, -and turning round, which set the whole cows in the whole house a -roaring out murder in their own tongue, the wife ran to the bed -above the goodman, and the whole family cried out, not knowing what -it was, but Leper and his two lads whipp’d off the blankets off the -brute, and it ran in among the rest unperceived, then Leper lighted -a candle, and all of them got out of bed, paid Leper for his work, -and more if he pleased, and begged him to go away, and take the -devil with him. So home he went, but never was employed by that -wife more. - -Leper had a deal of the best customers, both in town and country; -so one time he had occasion to go to the parish of Inchinan to -make a wedding suit for a gentleman; after they were finished, he -asked drink-money to his lads, which the gentleman refused: Leper -resolved to be even with him, so goes to the hay-loft where the -groom slept, and takes his stockings, breeches and jacket, sews -them altogether, and stuffs them full of hay, makes a head, puts a -rope about the neck, and hangs it on a tree opposite to the Laird’s -window, then goes to the Laird and tells him that his groom had -hanged himself, and that if he would open his window, he would -see him hanging; the laird struck with astonishment knew not what -to do; Leper advises him to bury him privately, the Laird said, -he had not a servant he could trust, so begged of Leper to do it, -Leper refuses, till the Laird promised him a load of meal: then -Leper pulls all the hay out of the groom’s clothes, goes and gets -his load of meal and sends it to Glasgow, then goes to the groom, -and says hastily, lad, thy master is wanting thee; so the lad in -a haste runs to see what his master wanted, the Laird no sooner -saw him opening the door, than he cry’d out, Avoid thee Satan, -avoid thee Satan; the lad says, What’s the matter, Sir? What’s the -matter? Did not you hang yourself this morning? Lord forbid! said -the lad: the laird says, If thou be an earthly creature, take that -tankard and drink; which he did: Then says he to his Master, Leper -called me up and said, you wanted me in all haste: Ho, ho, says -the Laird, I find out the story now, If I had Leper I would run my -sword through him: But Leper before that was away for Glasgow with -his meal. - -Leper was in use to give his lads their Sunday’s supper, which -obliged him to stay from the Kirk in the afternoon, he having -neither wife nor servant-maid; so on Sunday afternoon, as he was at -home cooking his pot, John Muckle-cheeks and James Puff-and-Blaw, -two Civileers, having more zeal than knowledge, came upon him and -said, What’s the matter Sir, you go not to the kirk? Leper replied, -I am reading my book, and cooking my pot, which I think is the -work of necessity. Then says the one to the other, Don’t answer -the graceless fellow, we’ll make him appear before his betters, so -they took the kail-pot and puts a staff thro’ the bowls, and bears -it to the Clerk’s chamber.[108] Leper who was never at a loss for -invention, goes to the Principal of the College his house, no body -being at home but a lass roasting a leg of mutton; Leper says, My -dear, will you go and bring a pint of ale, and I’ll turn the spit -’till you come back, the lass was no sooner gone, than he runs away -with the leg of mutton, which served his lads and him for their -supper. When the Principal came home, he was neither to bin nor -ha’d, he was so angry; so on Monday he goes and makes complaint -to the Lord Provost, who sends two officers for Leper, who came -immediately. My Lord asked him, How he dared to take away the -Principal’s mutton? Leper replied. How came your Civileers to take -away my kail-pot? I am sure, there is less sin in making a pot-full -of kail, than roasting a leg of mutton, Law-makers should not be -law-breakers, so I demand justice on the Civileers; the Provost -asked him, what justice he would have? says he, Make them carry the -pot back again; as for the Principal, a leg of mutton won’t make -him and me fall out: so they were forced to carry the pot back, and -Leper caused the boys to huzza after them to their disgrace. - -There was a Barber which always plagued Leper, calling him a -Prick-the-Louse; Leper resolved to be even with him, so he goes and -buys three sheep-heads, and sends for the Barber and told him, that -there were three Southland gentlemen come to his house, who wanted -to be shaved, and he assured him he would receive sixpence for -each one of them, this good news made the shaver send for a dram; -Leper was still praising them for quiet good natured gentlemen, -so Leper takes him to the bed where the sheep-heads lay covered, -and desired him to waken them, for they would not be angry, or say -an ill word to him, the Barber lifts the covering and sees the -sheep-heads, runs out cursing and swearing, and Leper crying after -him, Sheep-head Barber. - -The Barber resolved to be revenged on Leper, so when he was shaving -Mess John, he tells him that Leper was the drunkenest fellow in -the parish; so Mess John warns him to the session, Leper comes -and says, What do you want with me, Sir? Come away Leper, says -Mess John, I hear a bad report of you; Me, Sir! I am sure they -were not my friends that told you that. Indeed, I am informed you -are a great drunkard; I a drunkard! you have not a soberer man in -your parish: Stay Sir, I’ll tell you how I lead my life: In the -morning I take a choppin of ale, and a bit of bread, that I call -my morning: for breakfast I generally take a herring and a choppin -of ale, for I cannot sup brose like my lads; the herring makes me -dry, so at eleven hours I take a pint; at dinner another pint; at -four afternoon my comrades and I join, sometimes we are a pint -and sometimes three choppins; at supper I take a bite of bread -and cheese and a pint, and so I go to bed: Mess John says, It’s -extravagant Sir, it’s excessive drinking, I allow you the one half -of it for a quarter of a year; says Leper, I’ll try it, Sir, and -come back and tell you. At the end of the quarter he draws out his -account, and goes to Mess John, who was sitting with his elders in -the session-house, and says, Sir, I have a demand on you: On me, -Sir! Yes, on you, Sir; Don’t you remember you allowed me so much -drink for a quarter of a year, and I want the money; Am I to pay -your reckoning, Sir? You allowed it, and if you won’t pay it, I’ll -take you before the Provost: The Elders advised him to pay it or -he would be affronted: so Leper got the money: When he was at the -door, he says, Sir, will ye stand another quarter? Get away, says -Mess John, and don’t trouble me. Leper says, I’m sure you may, for -I was always two-pence to your penny. - - -THE END OF THE SECOND PART. - - - - -_THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE TAYLOR’S FUNERAL._ - - - [The edition here followed was published in the year 1816, - without any mention of the place of issue. It contains also the - two parts of _Leper the Taylor_. The full title is:--‘Fun upon - Fun, or, the Comical Merry Tricks of Leper the Taylor. In two - Parts. To which are added, The Grand Solemnity of the Taylor’s - Funeral, who lay Nine Nights on his own Shop-Board, together with - his Last Will.’ It has been collated with an edition published - in 1820, and with another, apparently of English origin, without - date. This chap-book, as has been explained in the Introduction, - Vol. I., p. 48, is believed to be the third part of _Leper the - Taylor_; and M‘Vean has given his sanction to the conjecture by - entering it in his list of _Opera Dugaldi_. Upon a close study - of the work, however, and after a careful comparison of it with - the two parts of _Leper the Taylor_, the editor cannot avoid the - suspicion that what appears in the following pages is not the - _bona-fide_ work of Dugald Graham. That suspicion is founded not - only upon the almost entire absence of Scotticisms, but also - upon the mention of some customs which were certainly not common - in Scotland, such, for instance, as the presentation of a sprig - of rosemary to each person at a funeral, and the corpse arrest. - These were more prevalent in England. While that is so, the fact - that the work forms a quite consistent conclusion to the other - two parts, and that Dugald did not always run in the same groove, - prevents the editor from pressing this suspicion to an extreme; - and he contents himself with marking the authorship as doubtful.] - - - - -THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE TAYLOR’S FUNERAL. - - -Leper[109] in his life-time desired, That all those who came -to attend his funeral, might be handsomely entertained with a -half-penny-roll, and a pint of ale;[110] in memory of the many -breakfasts he had made in his life-time: And furthermore desired, -That those who were his former[111] relations and chief mourners, -instead of a mourning ring, might be presented with a Taylor’s -Thimble, in memory of his own trade, and round the rim to have this -motto engraved: - - _Be sure you Feed Hell._ - -Round the room hung divers remnants of black-cloth, of the Taylor’s -own cabbaging, for he was very honest that way, and never cabbaged -but a quarter[112] out of a yard. At the four corners of the -room stood four woolen-drapers, lamenting the loss of so good a -customer, with each of them a white wand in his hand, just a yard -long and a parchment label hanging on their shoulders, with this -motto: - - _The Taylor has finished his work,_ - _And now he is gone to receive his wages._ - -At the head of the Taylor’s coffin, stood the goose triumphant, the -cabbage blazoned, and the cucumber argent. On the lid of his coffin -was engraven, on a brass plate, this applicable motto: - - _Hell is beneath me._ - -At the foot of the coffin was the sheers pendent, the bodkin -rampant, and the thimble enclosed in three ermins. - -When the Corpse was conveyed down stairs, each person was served -decently round with a leaf of red cabbage, instead of a sprig of -rosemary. Then the Corpse was hoisted on the shoulders of six -piece-brokers, having each of them this motto: - - _The Taylor steals, we buy._ - -The pall was supported by those who sold stay-tape, buckram, and -canvas. - -The Corpse was followed down Cloth-fair by thirty-six -master-taylors, each having a yard in his right-hand, with a -parchment streamer at the end of it, with this motto: - - _We Taylors by our art and trade_ - _Do often mend what God hath made._ - -Next followed twenty-four[113] woolen-drapers, two-by-two, bearing -on their breasts this motto: - - _We deal in wool, but can’t forbear_ - _To deal, alas! some times in hair._ - -Then followed the like number of button-makers, wringing their -hands with this motto: - - _Man’s but a Button, by my soul!_ - _The very Grave’s a Button-hole._ - -After these, followed a vast number of city ricketty hopper-arsed -beaux, who had been padded up, and made into a complete gentlemen, -by the deceased limb-trimmer, drying their watery eyes, with -cambrick hankerchiefs, and having this motto engraved on their -watch cases: - - _He’s gone who made us human shapes,_ - _And now we must again turn apes._ - -But to conclude the procession: Last of all, followed a numerous -croud of journeymen taylors, who were all slip-shoed, their -stockings about their heels, their hats off, a skein of thread -hung carelessly about their necks; and their shirt collars were -open, that they might have liberty to disturb their bosom friends. -On their left sleeve was a cushion, whereon stuck abundance of -Spanish and Whitchapel needles. The tails of their wigs were matted -like horses’ manes, just as if they had come off the shop-board -from work. On their left shoulders each had a long strip of -parchment, whereon was written this motto: - - _The lice bite us, ’tis not deny’d,_ } - _We bite our masters when employ’d;_ } - _And they bite all the world beside._ } - -At the bottom of Cloth-fair, the Corpse was arrested at the suit -of an old herb-woman for elevenpence halfpenny,[114] which had -been due a long time to the hag, for cabbages and cucumbers, which -the deceased had in his life-time: However the journeymen-taylors -manfully released the Corpse,[115] and afterwards marched on -in ample procession to the house of one Ned Kemp, an honest -piece-broker, where there was a spacious grave dug, between a large -cabbage and a cucumber plant. - -The FUNERAL SERMON was preached by Obadiah Backstitch, and the -words of the text were these: - - _A remnant of all shall be saved._[116] - -After which, the journeymen taylors were admitted into the -house,[117] and each of them served with a halfpenny-roll, and a -pint of ale, and so went weeping home, for the loss of so good a -master. - - -THE TAYLOR’S LAST WILL. - -I will and bequeath unto Simon Whipstitch,[118] my needle and -thimble; unto Peter Niggle, my sheers and bodkin; and unto Mrs. -Mary Laycock[118] is my Pincushion, stuck full of needles and pins, -to which I sewed a watch-chain, key, and seal with which I used to -strut about like a crow in a gutter.[119] - - - _Gae canty book and win a name;_ - _Nae lyrics ev’er shall ding thee:_ - _Hope large esteem, and lasting fame,_ - _For Leper’s name will raise thee._[120] - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE HISTORY OF HAVEREL WIVES._ - - - [The title of the edition reprinted here is:--‘The Folly of - Witless Women Displayed; or, the History of Haverel Wives: - Written by Humphray Clinker the Clashing Wives Clerk. Being a - Comical Conference between Maggy and Janet his two old Aunties. - Glasgow: Printed for the Company of Flying Stationers, in Town - and Country, MDCCLXXXI.’ It has been collated with an undated - edition issued by Morren of Edinburgh, and one published by the - Robertsons of Glasgow in 1807; and also with a reprint by D. - Webster & Son, Lothian Street, Edinburgh. This last named firm, - considering the reprinting of old Scottish popular tales ‘in a - more correct and neat form’ than hitherto to be a desideratum, - issued this chap-book, along with _Janet Clinker’s Oration_, as - the first number of what they called the ‘Caledonian Classics - of the Common People.’ _John Cheap_ was announced as the second - number. It should be stated that the 1781 edition here followed - is exceptional in respect that the _History of the Haverel Wives_ - is given as a separate and distinct publication. It is an 8 pp. - 12mo. In all the other editions that have come under the editor’s - notice this chap-book and _Janet Clinker’s Oration_ are issued - together.] - - - - -THE HISTORY OF HAVEREL WIVES, &c. - - -It is a certain old saying, That where women are conveen’d in -crouds there can be but little silence; and some have acknowledged -that it was a great bondage for them to hold their peace in the -church: and where there is much talk by ignorant speakers, it is -diverting for persons of understanding to hear them. Therefore we -have furnished the public with a small collection of old wives -noted sayings and wonders, which they relate happened in their own -time, also what has been told them by their forefathers. - -Two old wives (Maggy, and Janet) at their rocks, began their cracks -as follows: - -Janet. A dear Maggy, an how auld will ye be now, o’ it’s lang since -I kend you. - -Maggy. Indeed Janet that’s what nae body kens, for my father and -mither had sae mony o’ us, they ne’er counted how auld ane o’ us -was, they minded ay wha o’ us was born first, and wha was neist ane -anither, and that was a’ that e’er we sought to ken about it; but I -ha’e mind o’ the mirk Munonday.[121] - -Jan. Hout, tout, woman, the mirk Munonday, I hae mind since there -was nae Munondays at a’, and the Sabbath days was nae com’d in -fashion, there was a day they ca’d Sunday came anes o’ the ouk -for it, we kend ay whan it came, for my father cow’d ay his beard -whan the bell rang, and then every body ran to the kirk it had -ony thing ado, an it were to buy saut or shune, for the chapman -chiels set up a’ their creims at the kirk-door, an the lasses wad a -gotten keeking glasses, red snudes, needles, prins, elshin irons, -gemlets, brown bread and black saep to buy, forby sweety wives -things, and rattless for restless little anes; the men wad a bought -pints o’ ale, an a gotten a whang o’ gude cheese to chow a’ the -time a drinking o’t, hout, tout ay, they were braw markets on the -Sundays i’ the time o’ Paepery,[122] we had nae ministers than but -priests, Mess Johns, Black Friers, and White Friers, Monks, Abbots, -and Bishops, they had nae wives, yet the best o’ them wad a spoken -baudy language, and a kiss’d the lasses, fikle fyking bodies they -ware, unko ill to please, they wad a baith curs’d fouk and bless’d -them, just as ye pay’d them; a deed they were unco greedy o’ the -penny, and pray’d ay to the dead fouk, and gard the living pay them -for’t, and although they had play’d the loon wi’ a poor hizey she -durst na speak o’t for her very life, for they cou’d gi’ ony body -o’er to the de’il when they liket: They did not gar fouks learn to -read and pray like our new ministers, but thump on your breast, -strake your fingers o’er aboon your nose, tell your beads and rin -bare-fit thro’ amang hard stanes, and cauld sna’. - -Mag. A hech woman, an wad they a had carnal dealings wi’ the women, -and they sae good and haly. - -Jan. Hout ye daft woman, do ye think their goodness gelded them -tho’ they had nae wives; there was a great sort o’ them it they -ca’d cardonels, that ay when twa young bodies was married they bute -to hae the first night o’ the bride.[123] - -Mag. A wae worth them filthy hureing dogs, if I wadna’ a libbet -them mysel, I wonder that the gentle fouks and lairds lote them do -the like o’ that. - -Jan. A dear woman the gentle fouks and the lairds keepet ay in wi’ -them, for they said they had the command o’ the de’il and the dead -fouk, and the gentles durst na cast out wi’ them, for they got a’ -their sins pardon’d for the less siller. - -Mag. A dear woman that was unko like, the de’il wad get nae body -then but the poor fouk, and them that had nae siller. - -Jan. A well a wat that was true, for an they pay’d the priest well, -the de’il durst na middle wi’ them. - -Mag. A wow woman, a what’s come o’ them a’ now, am sure the like o’ -thae fouks it had sae meikle power, needed neither die nor yet be -sick: they wad live a’ their days. - -Jan. A wat well did they, for the maist o’ them is dead and rotten, -and the rest o’ them gade awa’ to Italy, where the auld Pape their -father, the de’il, the witches, brownies and faries dwal,[124] and -then we gat anither sort o’ gospel fouks it they ca’d curits,[125] -fine sort o’ dainty honest foulks they war, but gay and greedy, -they did na’ like sculdudery wark, but said na meikle against it, -for a hantle o’ bits a callans wad a gotten twa or three bastards -before they wad a gotten breeks; they beit to hae their tithes of -every thing that grew, mony a time my father wist they wad take -the tithes of his hemp too, an it were to hang themsels, they were -ay warst whare a poor man or wife died, altho’ they left weans -fatherless and mitherless, a deed they wad a sent their bellman, -and wi’ his lang prelatic fingers he wad a harled the upper pair -o’ blankets aff o’ the poor things bed, for some rent that they -gard fouks pay for dying, a sae did they e’en, and yet they keepit -a hantle o’ bra haly days, and days o’ meikle meat, Fastrens-e’en -and Yule days, when we gat our wames fou o’ fat brose, and a sippet -Yule sowens till our sarks had been like to rive, and after that a -eaten roasted cheese and white puddings well spiced, O bra times -for the guts, well I wat every body might live than that had ony -thing to live on. - -Mag. But dear Janet ye’er bra an lang o’ the memory, do ye mind o’ -the waefu blast, when the foul thief was raging in the air, and -the de’il dang doun a’ the kail yard dykes cutted the corn stacks, -tirr’d the houses and blew giddy Wille’s wig in the wall, they said -it was some young minister it had rais’d the de’il, and for want o’ -a cock, a cat, or some unkirsen’d creature to gi’ him, they could -na’ get laid again, an he brake the bridle slipped his head an ran -awa frae them.[126] - -Jan. A deed woman I heard tell o’ that, and how wood Willie M‘Neel -met him on the staps in the mids o’ the water, an shot him o’er, -and thought to drown him, but he gade doun the water like a meikle -branded bill roaring, a’ burning fire; but I hae mind the first -time it the de’il came to this kintrey was on a Sunday, I was a wi’ -bit gaun lassie my father and a’ the men fouk was at the kirk, the -ware twa o’ them, a humeld ane an a horn’d ane, a goodman de’il, -and a goodwife de’il as we took them to be, we ran a’ into the -house, and my mither barr’d the door and hunted the dogs at the -byre hole, thinking the de’il wou’d rin frae the dogs, but, na, na, -they got up on their tae end like twa auld men, they were a rugh -lang hair like a pyet horse, wi’ lang bairds aneath their chin, and -the meikle horn’d de’il box’d the dogs in at the hole agen, we ran -a’ ben the house and grat, but our Jock wha wis a little gabby gaun -laddock, cry’d ay, mither, mither, what is the de’il seeking here, -he’ll be wanting to tak a’ the auld wives an cats to mak witches -o’ them,[127] I true whan my gran mither heard that, she gat up and -ran ben to the spence, and crap in the bear meal barrel to hide -hersel frae the de’il, and curr’d there ’till the kirk skaild, a -deed she was sae fear’d, she made her burn in the barrel; and what -was’t true ye after a’ but a tupe and a ewe of the highland gaits, -it the laird had gotten to gie the lady milk, but mony a day we -leugh at the twa de’ils. - -Mag. But dear woman, what an a body is that de’il, it ev’ry body is -sae fear’d for him, is’t na him they ca’ auld nick, what fore do -they ca’ him auld nick? - -Jan. A dead woman I dinna ken what like a body he is, but they say -he’s a’ black, and they ca’ him auld nick, because he’s aulder nor -Adam, and Adam was the first man in the warld, and they say the -de’il will never die, nor yet be sick, nor yet tak sair een. - -Mag. A wow Janet but ye’re a witty creature, but can ye tell me -what way the blackamoors is made, some fouk says they’re a’ dipped -in cats blood and burnt bear strae, but I’m ay thinking the litster -doucks them in amang the broe that they lit the black claith wi’, -and then sells them to the lairds and gentle folks to flee their -bairns wi’, or dis the gentles eat them when they’re dead think -ye.[128] - -Jan. Hout awa daft creature, the blackamoors is fouk just like -oursel, but only they hae a black skin on them, did ye never see -black sheep and white sheep, black horse and white horse, ye think -they’re a’ de’ils because the de’il’s black: I thought mysel lang -syne, they were made for the penny, and sell’d the dearer o’ the -black skin. - -Mag. But Janet did ye ever see the de’il, I wad fain ken what like -he is, some says he’s like a bill, a bear or an auld beggar man. - -Jan. Indeed I never saw sae muckle as the de’il a’ my days, but -I’ve heard the ministers flyting and misca’ing him, and whan they -said a’ that they cou’d say o’ him, they ca’d him an ill spirit, -and a great liar, mony a ane has war names than a’ that yet.[129] - -Mag. But do you think there is ony de’ils but ane, every body’s -speaking an crying on him, ane couldna answer them a’. - -Jan. A deed they say there’s black anes and white anes o’ them, -humel anes, and horn’d anes, the very witches is haf de’ils whan -they’re living, and hail de’ils when they’re dead; the brownies is -haf dogs haf de’ils, a’ rugh but the mouth, seeks na claise, ae -man’s meat ’ill sair them, and they’ll work ten mens work in ae -night, forby hob-goblins fairies and elfs, that shoots fouks beasts -to dead, an no a hole to be seen in the skin o’ them;[130] hard -na ye tell o’ the twa Highland wives, how the tane cry’d oh, on, -oh on, Shenet my cows shot, houp, poup, co’ she, an wha shot her, -a de’d it was the de’il, oh hough, oh hough, Shenet we’ll a’ be -kill’d whan the de’il has gotten a gun. - -Mag. A sweet be wi’ us woman, is nit an unco thing they dinna a’ -flee on the minister, whan he flytes and misca’s them sae, do ye -think they hear him? - -Jan. A doubtless but they hear and sees too, they’re neither blind -nor bleer-ey’d, but ay whan ye speak o’ them, name the day cry it’s -wansday thro’ a’ the warld and there’s nae fear o’ you.[131] - -Mag. But what de ye think o’ our minister, is he a good man think -ye? - -Jan. Indeed I think he’s a gay gabby body, but he has twa fauts, -and his wife has three, he’s unko greedy o’ siller, and he’s ay -preaching down pride, and up charity, and yet he’s that fou o’ -pride himsel, that he has gotten a glass window on ev’ry side o’ -his nose, and his een is as clear as twa clocks to luk to, he has -twa gigglet gilliegaukies o’ dochters, comes into the kirk wi’ -their cobletehow mutches frizel’d up as braid’s their hips, and -clear things like starns about their necks, and at ev’ry lug a -walloping white thing hanging like a snotter at a bubbly wean’s -nose, syne about their necks, a bit thin claith like a mouse web -and their twa bits o’ paps playing ay niddity nod, shining through -it like twa yearning bags, shame fa’ them and their fligmagaries -baith, for I get nae good o’ the preaching looking at them; and -syne a’ the dirty sherney hought hizies in the parish maun hae the -like or lang gae; but an I ware to preach, sic pride sudna hae -baith peace and property in my parish, I wou’d point out my very -finger to them in the kirk, and name them baith name and sirname, -and say there sits sherney Meg o’ the mill, stumpy May o’ the -moss, sniveling Kate wi’ her hodle-makenster coat, they came into -the kirk bobbing their hin quarters like three water wag tails, -shaking their heads like a hunder pund horse, smacking their lips -and hauding their mouth like May puddocks; and what shall I compare -them to, but painted Jezebels; the whore of Babylon or Rachel -the harlot, with a’ their gaudy decoying colours, high taps, and -spread glittering tails, whan they come sailing into the house of -prayer, as it were a house o’ dancing and debaushery, go, go, ye -painted pisweips to fairs and weddings, and there display your -proud banners of pride which ye are puffed up with, it is the very -spirit o’ the devil, and unbecoming o’ the house o’ prayer: But -if these gillygaukies shou’d come into the kirk with their heels -up and their heads down, our mess John is become like ane o’ the -dogs of Egypt, he’ll no move his tongue, and I believe he darna for -Clipock his wife; wha’s element is to banter a’ the poor beggars -from her door, nane can stand her but the tinkler wives, and she’s -ay whinging about charity, but it’s to hersel, she widna pity the -cripple on the blind’s back, but bids gae hame to their ain parish -filthy beggar dirt,[132] she casts a’ her cauld paritch and kail to -the cocks and hens, kicks the poor colly dogs out at the door, ca’s -them filthy useless brutes, because they canna lay eggs, like hens -eggs, she’s ay flyting on her lasses, hungers her servant lad, eats -cocks and hens hersel, and gars the poor minister eat saut herrin. - -Mag. A well I wat then I wish he may not turn a drucken body, for -herring maks fouk ay dry, but well I wat Janet ye hae tell’d their -faults on baith the sides, an I hae ae great faut to our minister -yet, and tho’ I ware dead and rotten the night afore the morn I’ll -neither forgi’ him nor yet forget him, a what he said to me, that -I sud be ta’en and douked for offerin to marry agen, a woman at my -age; an auld man, said he, ought to marry some kindly body to keep -him clean in his auld age, but an auld woman (said he) that can -wash a dud sark to themsels needs nae men; and now no Janet, I am -no to ca’ very auld although I be stricken in years, I dinna ken -my ain age, being kirsen’d in the time o’ Paepery;[133] I hae the -penny, tho’ bair o’ flesh and blood, has four good teeth before -and well willin gums in the backside, I canna gang far without a -staff, an yet I wad as fain be married as whan I was fifteen year -auld, O woman! but a man in the bed is an usefu body, they hae a -sweet breath, and natural heat to keep a body warm; but an our -minister ware an auld wife, he wad ken what the want of a bit man -is as well as I, and a’ this began about wanton Wat the town taylor -that promis’d to tak me again sic a time or tell me what for, mony -a pickle well butter’d kail bleds I gi’d him, held out frae my ain -wame and stappit in a his, he said he wad do as muckle to me again, -but he has na don’t fause loun carle it he was, cheated me out o’ -sax pund and twa sarks and then gar’d me mak a fool o’ mysel whan -the laird’s duket[134] was biggit and made a’ white to gar the dows -come, he said an my window ware as white they wad come to me too, -and I like a poor fool took a basin fu’ o’ good bear meal and made -it drammock and whitened a my window wi’t, but the never a dow came -near hand me the mair o’t, but a’ the town dogs came pyking and -licking it at night and day, I was plagued wi’ them till a gude -shure came and wisht awa agen, the laird an every body came to look -and laugh at it.[135] - -Jan. But Maggy an ye be a mind to marry ye maun snod yoursel better -up, cast awa your staff, singe your whiskers wi’ a candle or fir -stick, stand straight up like a rash kekle, and looky cantylike -whan the carles is gaun by, tak a mouthfu’ o’ good meat, and a drap -dram in the mornin will keep the dirt aff your face and raise the -red in your cheek, ye see the hens turns ay red lugget or they -begin to lay: a body that wants a bit man will use mony a shift for -ane, I ken how I did mysel whan I was fourteen lang year a widow, -and thought never to gotten ane, I feed our John, whan he was a -saft silly docus callan to ca’ the pleugh, and keepit him three -years till he turn’d a wally whincer and fain wad I had him, but -he widna speak o’t to me, but ae day we was in the house our lane, -an I ties a gude hard stane knot on the strings o’ my toy beneath -my chin, an fykes wi’t awee, then says, O Johnny my man look an -ye can louse this knot wi’ your teeth, he lays a hand on every -shouther and louses the knot, and I gripes him by the twa lugs and -gies him a kiss, and saes poor man Johnny thou has a sweet breath, -thou needsna want a bit kiss o’ me whan thou likes lad, I true that -culli’d him hither ay the mair, ha, ha, thou has nae art woman. - -Enters Humphray Clinker, hearing a’ that past, perswades his aunt -Maggy that no man would marry such as her, for she looked like -a picture of death riding upon hunger’s back, a rickle of banes -row’d up in a runkly skin, had wasted her body with water lythocks -into a scrufe of skin and bane for want of teeth to chow bread -for the nourishment of her body, and that he was com’d on purpose -to write her testament or latter will, that it was a lightness in -her brain before death; therefore she ought to go to bed and die -directly,[136] which she accordingly did[137] by taking thought -of what was said to her, the priest being sent for came and -discoursed with her, but still she keeping her purse in her hand, -which he observed, desired she would give it to her friends or she -died, to which she would answer by her sooth that she wad not, for -she wad tak it wi’ her, for she had heard every body say they were -the better o’ the penny wi’ them, gang whare they like, and so died -supposed to be an hundred and six years old. - -Humphray’s aunt Janet is yet alive an has made an oration in praise -of the old women, and on the pride of the young. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_JANET CLINKER’S ORATION._ - - - [_Janet Clinker’s Oration_ is commonly found printed along with - _The History of Haverel Wives_, and in the chap-book from which - the text in the following pages are taken, this is the case. The - full title in this case is:--‘An Oration on the Virtues of the - Old Women, and the Pride of the Young: with a Direction for Young - Men, what sort of Women to take, and for Women what sort of Men - to Marry. Dictated by Janet Clinker, and written by Humphrey - Clinker, the Clashing Wives’ Clerk. Glasgow: Printed by J. & - M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1807.’ It has been collated with the - editions mentioned in the Introduction to these volumes: together - with the reprint published in 1820 by Webster & Son, Edinburgh, - referred to in the prefatory note to the _History of the Haverel - Wives_.] - - - - -AN ORATION ON THE VIRTUES OF THE OLD WOMEN, AND THE PRIDE OF THE -YOUNG. - - -The madness of this unmuzzled age has driven me to mountains of -thoughts, and a continual meditation: It is enough to make an -auld wife rin red-wood, and drive a body beyond the halter’s-end -of ill-nature, to see what I see, and here what I hear: Therefore -the hinges of my anger are broke, and the bands of my good and -mild nature are burst in two, the door of civility is laid quite -open, plain speech and mild admonition is of none effect; nothing -must be used now but thunder-bolts of reproach tartly trimm’d up -in a tantalizing stile, roughly redd up and manufactured thro’ -an auld Matron’s mouth, who is indeed but frail in the teeth, -but will squeeze surprizingly with her auld gums, until her very -chaft-blades crack in the crushing of your vice. - -I shall branch out my discourse into four heads. - -First, What I have seen, and been witness to. - -Secondly, What I now see, and am witness to. - -Thirdly, What I have heard, does hear, and cannot help; I mean the -difference between the old women and the young. - -Fourthly, Conclude with an advice to young men and young women, how -to avoid the buying of Janet Juniper’s stinking butter,[138] which -will have a rotten rift on their stomach as long as they live.[139] - -First, The first thing then, I see and observe is, that a wheen -daft giddy-headed, cock-nosed, juniper nebbed mothers, bring up -a wheen sky-racket dancing daughters, a’ bred up to be ladies, -without so much as the breadth of their lufe of land, it’s an -admiration to me, whare the lairds are a’ to come frae that’s to -be coupled to them; work, na, na, my bairn manna work, she’s to -be a lady, they ca’ her Miss, I maun hae her lugs bor’d says auld -Numps the mither; thus the poor pet is brought up like a mitherless -lamb, or a parrot in a cage; they learn naething but prick and sew, -and fling their feet when the fidle plays, so they become a parcel -of yellow-faced female-taylors, unequal matches for countrymen, -Flanders-babbies, brought up in a box, and must be carried in a -basket; knows nothing but pinching-poverty, hunger and pride; can -neither milk kye, muck a byre, card, spin, nor yet keep a cow from -a corn-rigg; the most of such are as blind penny-worths, as buying -pigs in pocks, and ought only to be matched with Tacket-makers, -Tree-trimmers, and Male-taylors, that they may be male and female -agreeable in trade, since their piper fac’d fingers are not for -hard labour; yet they might also pass on a pinch for a black -Sutor’s wife, for the stitching of white seams round the mouth of -a lady’s shoe; or, with Barbers or Bakers they might be buckled, -because of their muslin-mouth and pinch-beck speeches, when barm is -scant, they can blow up their bread with fair wind, and when the -razor is rough, can trim their chafts with a fair tale, oil their -peruke with their white lips, and powder the beau’s pow with a -French-puff; they are well versed in all the science of flattery, -musical tunes, horn-pipes, and country-dances, though perfect in -none but the reel of Gamon. - -Yet these are they the fickle farmer fixes his fancy upon; a -bundle of clouts, a skeleton of bones, Maggy and the Much, like -twa fir-sticks and a pickle tow, neither for his plate nor his -plow; very unproper plenishing, neither for his profit nor her -pleasure, to plout her hands through Hawkey’s[140] caff-cog, is a -hateful hardship for Mammy’s Pet, and will hack a’ her hands. All -this I have seen and heard, and been witness to; but my pen being -a goose-quill, cannot expose their names nor places of abode, but -warns the working-men out of their way. - -Secondly, I see another sort, who can work, and maun work till -they be married, and become mistresses themselves; but as the -young man receives them, the thrift leaves them; before that, they -wrought as for a wager, they span as for a premium, busked as for -a brag, scour’d their din skins as a wauker does worsted blankets, -kept as mim in the mouth as a minister’s wife, comely as Diana, -chaste as Susanna, yet the whole of their toil is the trimming of -their rigging, though their hulls be everlastingly in a leaking -condition; their backs and their bellies are box’d about with the -fins of a big fish,[141] six petticoats, a gown and apron, besides -a side sark down to the ankle-banes; ah! what monstrous rags are -here, what a cloth is consumed for a covering to one pair of -buttocks! I leave it to the judgement of any ten taylors in town, -if 30 pairs of mens’ breeches may not be cut, from a little above -the easing of Bessy’s bum, and this makes her a motherly-like -woman, as sturdy a fabric as ever strade to market or mill. - -But when she’s married she turns a madam, her mistress did not -work much, and why should she! Her mother tell’d ay she wad -be a lady, but cou’d never show where her lands lay; but when -money is all spent, credit broken, and conduct out of keeping, -a wheen babling bubly bairns, crying piece minny, parich minny, -the witless waster[142] is at her wit’s-end. Work now or want, -and do not say that the world has war’d you; but Lofty-Nodle, -your giddy-headed-mother has led you astray, by learning you to -be a lady, before ye was fit to be a servant-lass, by teaching -you laziness instead of hard labour, by giving you such a high -conceit of yourself, that no body thinks any thing of you now, and -you may judge yourself to be one of those, that wise people call -Littleworth; but after all, my Dear Dirty-face, when you begin the -warld again, be perfectly rich before you be gentle, work hard for -what you gain, and you’ll ken better how to guide it, for pride is -an unperfect fortune, and a ludicrous life will not last long. - -Another sort I see, who has got more silver than sense, more gold -than good nature, more muslins and means than good manners, tho’ a -sack can hold their siller, six houses and a half cannot contain -their ambitious desires. Fortunatus’s wonderful purse[143] would -fail in fetching the fourth part of their worldly wants, and the -children imitate their mothers, chattering like hungry cranes, -crying still I want, I want, ever craving, willfully wanting, till -all be brought to a doleful dish of desolation, and with cleanness -of teeth, a full breast, an empty belly, big pockets without -pence, pinching penury perfect poverty, drouth, hunger, want of -money, and friends both, old age, dim eyes, feeble joints, without -shoes or clothes, the real fruits of a bad marriage, which brings -thoughtless Fops to both faith and repentance in one day. - -Thirdly, Another thing I see, hear, and cannot help, is the -breeding of bairns, and bringing them up like bill-stirks, they gie -them walth o’ meat, but nae manners: but whan I was a bairn, if I -didna bend to obedience, I ken mysel what I gat which learned me -what to gie mine again; if they had tell’d me tuts, or prute-no, -I laid them o’er my knee, and a com’d crack for crack o’er their -hurdies, like a knock bleaching a harn-web, till the red wats stood -on their hips, this brought obedience into my house, and banished -dods and ill-nature out at the door; I dang the de’il out o’ them, -and dadded them like a wet dish-clout till they did my bidding: But -now the bairns are brought up to spit fire in their mither’s face, -and cast dirt at their auld daddies: How can they be good who never -saw a sample of it; or reverence old age, who practised no precepts -in their youth? How can they love their parents, who gave them -black poison instead of good principles? Who shewed them no good, -nor taught them no duties! No marvel such children despise old age, -and reverence their parents as an old horse does his father. - -Fourthly, The last prevailing evil which I see, all men may -hear, but none strive to help,[144] the banishment of that noble -holy-day called the Sabbath, which has been blasted by a whirl-wind -from the south; I am yet alive who saw this hurricane coming -thro’ the walled city[145] near Solway in the South; it being on -a Sunday, and a beautiful sun-shine day amangst some foul weeks -in harvest-weather, which caused the Lord Mayor of the place to -work hard, and put in the whole fields of wheat harvest, and -the priests of that church commended him therefore: Because the -season was backward, why should not man be disobedient! And this -infection is come here also, surely the loss of this Sabbath-day -will be counted a black Saturday to some; when I walk in the -fields, I know it not but by the stopping of the plow, when in -the city, only by the clossness of a few shop-doors and the sound -of the bells; degenerate ideas of religion indeed! when the high -praise is sounded only by bell-metal, _A sounding Brass and a -tinkling Cymbal_: Is it not come to pass, the taverns roar like -Ætna’s mouth; children follow their gaming, and old sinners their -stroling about, nothing stopt but coal-carts and common carriers, -the Sabbath lasts no longer than the sermon, and the sermon is -measured by a little sand in a glass; many, too many frequent the -church, seemingly only to show their antic dress, with heads of a -monstruous form, more surprizing than those described by Aristotle, -as for length exceeding that of an asses’s head, ears and all; and -ah! How humbling would it be, to see their heads struck into such a -hideous form, &c. - -They disdain now to ride on pads as of old, or to be hobled on a -horse’s hurdies, but must be hurled behind the tail, safely seated -in a leather conveniency, and there they fly swiftly as in the -chariot of Aminadab.[146] - -They will not speak the mother language[147] of their native -country, but must have southern oaths, refined like raw-sugar thro’ -the mills of cursing, finely polished, and fairly struck in the -profane mint of London, into a perfect form of flunky-language; -even the very wild Arabs from the mountain-tops, who have not yet -got English to profane his Maker’s name, will cry, _Cot, Cot_; -hateful it is to hear them swear, who cannot speak. O! strange -alteration since the days of old![148] the downful of Popery, and -the Prelates’ decay, when reformation was alive, and religion in -taste and fashion; the people during the sabbath, were all packed -up in closets, and their children kept within doors, when every -city appeared like a sanctuary, nothing to be heard on the streets, -but the sound of prayer on the right-hand, and the melodious sound -of psalms on the left. - -Now is the days of counting, scribing, riding of horses, and the -sound of the post-horn come; surely there will be trade now; and -none will miss prosperity when every day is a fair; I add no more -on this head, but every one claim a right to his own set time, &c. - -Another grievance of the female offenders I cannot omit, which -attacks a man’s fancy, and is the cause of his fall;[149] I mean -Flighters who has gotten a little of the means of Mammon, more -silver than sense, more gold than good nature, haughtiness for -humility, value themselves as a treasure incomprehensible, their -heads and hearts of Ophir-gold, their hips of silver, & their -whole body as set about with precious stones, great and many are -the congresses of their courtship, and the solemnizing of their -marriage is like the conclusion of a peace after a bloody and -tedious war.[150] - -And what is she after all! yea, her poor penny will never be -exhausted, it must be laid out in lunacy and laziness, she must -have fine teas and the tuther thing: When pregnancy and the -speuing of porich approaches, then she prophecies of her death; -as she hatches life, she embraces laziness; then O the bed, the -bed, nothing like the bed for a bad wife, her body becomes as -par-boil’d,[151] being so bed-ridden, this rots their children in -the brewing, and buries them in the bringing up; yea, some mothers -are so beastly, as to water the bed and blame the child therefore; -yet such lazy wives live long, and their children soon die; their -far fetched feigned sickness, soon render the husband to the -substance of one sixpence, he becomes poor and hen-peck’t under -such petticoat government. - -But when I Janet was a Janet, and had the judgement of my own -house, my husband was thrice happy, I never held him down, he was -above me day and night, I sat late and raise early, kept a fu’ -house and rough back, when summer came we minded winter’s cauld, -we had peace ay at porich-time, and harmony through the day; we -supp’d our sowens at supper-time with a seasonable heat, and went -to bed good bairns kent naething but stark love and kindness, we -wrought for riches, and our ages and earthly stores increased -alike, we hated pride and loved peace, he died with a good name; I -let you ken I live, but not as many do, not so lordly of my brain -as some are of their belly! and was not my life strange by that now -practised? Come help yourselves you hillocat-livers and avoid it. - -Now after a’, if a poor man want a perfect wife, let him wale a -weel blooded hissie wi’ braid shouders an thick about the haunches, -that has been lang servant in ae house, tho’ twice or thrice awa’ -and ay fied back, that’s weel liked by the bairns and the bairns’ -mither, that’s naeway cankard to the cats, nor kicks the colly-dogs -amang her feet, that wad let a’ brute-beasts live, but rats, mice, -lice, flaes, neets and bugs, that bites the wee bairns in their -cradles, that carefully comb the young things’ heads, washes their -faces, and claps their cheeks, snites the snotter frae their -nose[152] as they were a’ her ain, that’s the lass that will mak a -good wife; for them that dauts the young bairns, will ay be kind to -auld fouk an they had them. - -And ony hale-hearted halsome hissie, that wants to halter a good -husband, never tak a widow’s ae son, for a’ the wifely gates in -the warld will be in him, for want of a father to teach him manly -actions; neither tak a sour looking sumf wi’ a muckle mouth, and a -wide guts, who will eat like a horse and soss like a sow, suffer -none to sup but himsel, eat your meat and the bairns baith; when -hungry angry, when fu’ full of pride, ten sacks will not haud -his sauce, tho’ a pea-shap wad haud his siller: But go, tak your -chance, and if cheated, channer not on me, for fashionable fouk -flee to fashionable things, for lust is brutish-blind, and fond -love is blear-ey’d. I add no more, says Janet; so be it, said -Humphray the Clerk. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE COMICAL AND WITTY JOKES OF JOHN FALKIRK._ - - - [The text here used is from an edition bearing the following - matter on the title-page:--‘The Comical and Witty Jokes of John - Falkirk the merry Piper; When in Courtship to an old Fiddler’s - Widow, who wanted all the Teeth. With a Copy of the Love-Letter - he sent her, who is commonly called F--ting Betty. - - Here’s a Piper on a merry pin, - Selling his words instead of win, - In courtship with an old fiddler’s jigg, - As weather beaten as his wigg; - Swears by his chanter he can win her bread, - Though never a tooth be in her head. - - Edinburgh: Printed in the Year 1777.’ It has been collated with - an undated edition published by Morren of Edinburgh. On the title - of this latter edition the widow is called ‘Flinging Betty.’ The - 1777 edition is an 8 pp. 12mo., containing only the ‘Jokes’; but - in Morren’s Edition the ‘Jokes’ follow the ‘Cariches.’ The two - were generally printed separately, although they are occasionally - to be seen together.] - - - - -THE COMICAL AND WITTY JOKES OF JOHN FALKIRK. - - -A certain old reverend priest, being one night at supper in a -gentleman’s house; and for one article having eggs, the server of -the table, as usual laid a cloath on every ones knee, wherewith -to hold their egg in when hot, when supper was over, the priest -looking down between his legs, and seeing the white cloath thought -it was his shirt-tail: and very slyly stops it into his breeches -bite, and bite, which the lady and her maid observed, but was -ashamed to challenge him; so home he went with the servet in his -breeches, and knew nothing of it till going to bed, when it fell -from him, his wife enquired how he came by it, he could not tell, -but was surprized how he came to have more bulk in his breeches -than formerly, but perceiving the name they sent it back again, the -priest pleaded to be excused own’d himself only a thief through -ignorance.[153] - -An old gentleman and his two sons, being in a company, his oldest -son sitting next him, spoke a word which highly displeased his -father; for which his father gave him a hearty blow on the side of -the head: A well said he, I will not lift my hand to strick at my -parents, but gives his other brother that sat by him, a blow on the -ear, saying give that about by the way of a drink, till it comes to -my father again. - -A sailor being traveling between _Edinburgh_ and _Linlithgow_ -which is twelve long computed miles: and as he was setting out in -the morning about 8 o’clock, he seed a vain like young spark go -running past him, which he never minded, but kept jogging on at his -own leisure: and as he was going into _Linlithgow_, about twelve -o’Clock, up comes the young spark, and asked the sailor, what a -Clock it was, why says the sailor, I see you have a watch and I -have none, what is it? out he pulls his watch, ho said he, it’s -directly twelve, and what do you think, it was half an hour after -ten or I came out of _Edinburgh_, I have walked it in an hour and -a half; it is pretty well tript, says the sailor, but pray sir, -what man of business are you? O! said he, I am a watch maker, I -was thinking so, said the sailor, for you have made your watch to -answer your feet, for those feet can’t answer a right watch, and -I suppose your tongue can’t keep time with none of them do you -remember where you went past me this morning about eight o’Clock; O -yes said he, and off he went. - -As two maids was coming from the milking of their cows, one of them -steping over a style, fell and spill’d the whole peal full of milk -from her head O said she, what will I do, what will I do, O said -the other maid, let it go who can help it now, you can make it up -again it is not your maiden-head: My maiden-head said she, if it -were my maiden-head, I would think nothing of it, many, many a -time, I have lost my maiden-head with great pleasure, and I got it -ay again, it came ay back to its ain place again, but I’ll never -gather up my milk again. - -A sailor being one night in company with a country taylor, O said -the taylor, but your trade is a very dangerous trade, do you ever -pray any? yes said the sailor, when we’re hard beset we pray to -blast one anothers eyes and limbs, if they wont be nimble and -quick, a wow man but that’s a sad trade, said the taylor, and what -trade was your father? why said the sailor, he was a sailor too, -and where did he die, said the taylor? why he was drowned at sea, -and O man! said the taylor are you not fear’d to go to sea? not I -said the sailor: But what trade was your father? indeed said the -taylor, he was a taylor as well as me, and where did he die? said -the sailor, indeed he died in his bed, says the poor taylor. O then -says the sailor, are not you afraid to go to bed lest you die there -too.[154] - -Three merry companions having met on a saturdays night at an Ale -house, (a hatter and a shoemaker, and a taylor,) where they drunk -heartily all that night, and to morrow until mid day; and their -beats was who had the lovingest wife: So they agreed for a trial of -their good nature that every man should do, whatever his wife bade -him do; as soon as ever he went home, or who did not as she ordered -him, was to pay all the reckoning, which was seven and six-pence, -or if all of them did as their wives bade them: then they were -to pay all alike: so on this agreement they all came away, first -to the hatters house, and in he goes like a madman, dancing and -jumping round the floor, his wife at the very time was taking of -the pot and setting it in the floor, he still dancing about, now -says the wife, ding over the pot with thy madness, so he gives it -a kick, and over it went, and that saved him as he had done what -his wife bad him do. Then away he goes to the taylors house, and in -he goes dancing likewise, but his wife fell a scolding him. O says -he, my dear give me a kiss? kiss my arse you drunken rogue, said -she; then to her he flys and whips her over in the bed, up with her -petty coats and kisses her arse before them all, and that saved -him; then away they went to the shoe-makers, and in he goes very -merry and dancing about as he saw the other two do: saying come my -dear heart and give me a kiss: go hang yourself you drunken dog -said she, so he must either go and hang himself directly or pay all -the reckoning. - -An honest highlandman not long since, not much acquainted with the -law, fell out with one of his neighbours, and to the law they went; -he employed one advocate, and his opposite another, and as they -were debeating it in court before the judges, the highlandman being -there present, a friend of his asked him how he thought it would -go, or who would win the day, indeed said the highland man, his law -man speaks well, and my law man speaks well, I think we’ll both -win, and the judges will lose for they speak but a word now and -then. - -A young woman by the old accident having got herself with child, -was called to the Session for so doing: and after one elder -another examining her how she got it, and where she got it, and -what tempt her to get it; and no doubt the de’il wad get her for -the getting of it; last of all the minister he fell a enquiring -how she got it, which run the poor lass out of all patience about -the getting of it, says the priest: tell me plainly where it was -gotten, I tell you said she, that it was gotten in the byre, at a -cows staike, and what other place do you want to ken about: but -said he, he did not tye you to the cows staike, no said she, I did -not need any tying, and how far was between the byre and the house? -just butt and ben, up and down twa steps of a stone stair, then -says the priest, why did you not cry to the folks in the house: -indeed sir, said she, I could not get cried for laughing at it. - -An old sodger being on a furlough from the north of Scotland, -having got no breakfast, fell very hungry by the way and no ale -house being near; came into a farmers house, and desired they would -sell, him some bread, or any kind of victuals: to which the surly -good wife reply’d, she never sold any bread, and she was not going -to begin with him, he had but three miles and a bittok[155] to an -ale-house, and he might march on, and she did fair enough when she -gide bits of bread for naething to beggars though she gide nane -to idle sodgers; he had naething to do there awa: Hute said the -goodman gi’ him a laidle fu’ o’ our kail, he’s been ay somebodys -bairn, before he was a sodger,[156] What said she there not a drop -in the pot, they’re a’ in the plate before you, then gi’ him a -spoon and let him sup wi’ us, the soldier gets a spoon and thinking -he could sup all he seed himself, the first soup he put in his -mouth, spouted it back again in the plate, and crys out O my sore -mouth, the hide’s all of it yet since I had the Clap then every -one threw down his spoon, the soldier got all to sup himself, the -wife stood cursing and scolding all the while, and when he was done -burnt both plate and spoon in the fire to prevent the Clap: So the -soldier came off with a full belly, leaving the wife dressing the -goodmans rigging with a four footed stool, for bidding him sup. - -A great drover who frequainted a public inn in the north of England -as he passed and repassed agreed with the servant maid of the -house, for a touch of love: for which he gave her a six and thirty -shilling piece: But on the next morning mounted his horse without -asking a bill, or what was to pay, but sir, said the landlord, you -forgot to pay your reckoning well minded, sir said he, I want my -change I gave your maid a six and thirty to change, the poor maid -is called on in haste, yes said she I got it, but it was not for -that, throws it down and off she goes, her mistress understood and -gave her the challenge, she told her it was so, but she should be -up with him; so in twelve months thereafter, he came past with his -drove, puts up at the same inn as foremerly; then the girl goes to -a neighbour woman, and borrows a young child about three months -old, comes into the company where he was, lays it down on the -table, saying, sir there’s the change of your six and thirty, and -away she comes; the child crys, and the bells rung, the landlord -was ready enough to answer, O sir, said he, call her back for this -will ruin my family and crack my credit, but sir said the girl, -you thought nothing to ruin my character and crack my maiden head; -peace, peace said he, my dear, here’s one hundred and fifty pound -and take away the child and trouble me no more, well said she I’ll -take it: But you will make more of buying cows than maiden heads; -so away she came with the money, and returned the borrowed child to -its own mother. - -A churlish husband and virtuous wife one time fell sadly out, -because the wife had given something to the poor, what, said he, -mistress, I’ll let you know there is nothing about this house but -what is mine and you’re mine, and your very arse is mine; a well -well goodman, then you will let me have nothing take it all and -give me peace: So away they went to bed the goodwife turned her -backside towards the goodman, and as he was falling asleep, she -draws up her smoke, and let’s fly in the goodman’s shirt-tail, -which wakened him in a great fright, as he had been shot; ay, ay, -woman, what are ye about; what am I about, said she, dear woman -your filling the bed, not I goodman, for when my arse was my own I -took care of it, and take you care of it now it is yours. O rise -woman and clean the bed, and keep your arse, and a’ the liberty ye -had before, and more if you want it, fich fich, what’s this! am a -dirt. - -A ships crew being one time in great distress at sea by reason of -a violent storm, and being all fallen down to prayer, expecting -every moment to go to the bottom; there happened to be an old -gentleman a passenger on board with them who had a great big red -nose with drinking ale and whisky; and being all at their last -prayer as they thought, a little boy burst out into loud laughter: -O thou thoughtless rogue said the captain what makes thee to laugh -in seeing us all on the point of perishing, why, said the boy, I -cannot but laugh, to think what a fine sport it will be when we -are all drowning, to see how that man’s red nose will make the -water bizz when it comes about it, at which words they all fell a -laughing, and cheered the crew, so that they made another attempt -to weather it out, and got all safe on shore at last. - -_My lovely Bett_, - -The beauty of old age, thy hoary head and loutching shoulders -inclines to mortality, yet I’ll compare thee to an eagle that has -renewed her youth, or a leek with a white head and a green tail, -this comes to thee with my kind compliments, for the kisses of thy -lips, and the kindness I had to thy late bed-fellow fiddler Pate my -brother pensioner, ah! how we drank other’s healths with the broe -of the brewket[157] ewes, we brought from boughts of the German -Boors, but its nonesence, to blow the dead when in the dust, yet a -better violer never scrided on a silken cord, or kittled a cat’s -tryps with his finger-ends, his elbow was souple as a eel, and -his fingers dabbed at the jigging end like a hungry hen picking -barley: I seldom or ever saw him drunk, if keep him from whisky and -whisky from him; except that night, he trysted the pair of free -stone breeches from Joseph the mason, and now my dear Bessy he’s -got them he’s got them, for a free stone covers his body, holds him -down and will do, and now, now, my dainty thing, my bonny thing, -my best match for matrimony come take me now, or tell me now, I am -in anger,[158] I’ll wait nae langer, I say be clever, either now -or never, its a rapture of love, that does me move, I’ll have a -wife or by my life, if she should be blind and criple, I’ll sell my -win, for her meat and fun, the like ne’er gade down her thraple; -so now Bessy I love you and my love lies upon you, and if ye love -not me again some ill chance come upon you, as am flyting free and -flitting free am both in love and banter; or may your rumple rust -for me, I’ve sworn it by my chanter. - - _From John Kirk’s Wind-mill at Corky Crown._ - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE SCOTS PIPER’S QUERIES: - -OR - -JOHN FALKIRK’S CARICHES._ - - - [Reprinted from an undated edition published by C. Randall, - Stirling, and collated with one by J. Morren, Edinburgh, and the - modern Glasgow undated edition. The full title is:--‘The Scots - Piper’s Queries: or John Falkirk’s Cariches, made Both Plain and - Easy. - - Old PIPER JOHN if you desire - To read at leisure by the fire: - ’Twill please the Bairns and keep them laughing, - And mind the Goodwife o’ her daffing. - - Stirling.--Printed by C. Randall.’] - - - - -AN ACCOUNT OF JOHN FALKIRK, THE SCOTS PIPER.[159] - - -John Falkirk, commonly called the _Scots Piper_, was a curious -little witty fellow, with a round face and a broad nose. None of -his companions could answer the many witty questions he proposed to -them, therefore he became the wonder of the age in which he lived. -Being born of mean parents he got no education, therefore his witty -invention was truly natural; and being bred to no business, he -was under the necessity of using his genius in the composition of -several small books, of which the following Cariches was one, which -he disposed of for his support. He became author of many small -Tracts, and the following curious and diverting pieces are said to -be his composition, viz.:--The History of John Cheap the Chapman, -The History of the Haveral Wives, Janet Clinker’s Oration, John -Falkirk’s Witty Jokes, Jockie and Maggie’s Courtship, The Proverbs -of the Pride of Women, History of Lothian Tom, with many others, -which are well known in Scotland, England, and Ireland. In a word, -he was - - The wittiest fellow in his time, - Either for Prose, or making Rhyme. - - - - -THE SCOTS PIPER’S QUERIES; - -OR, - -JOHN FALKIRK’S CARICHES.[160] - - -Q. What is the wisest behaviour of ignorant persons? - -A. To speak of nothing but what they know, and to give their -opinion of nothing but what they understand. - -Q. What time is a scolding wife at the best? - -A. When she is fast asleep. - -Q. What time is a scolding wife at the worst? - -A. When she is that wicked as to tear the hair out of her own head, -when she cannot get at her neighbours, and thro’ perfect spite -bites her own tongue with her own teeth, my hearty wish is, that -all such wicked vipers may ever do so. - -Q. What is the effectual cure and infallible remedy for a scolding -wife? - -A. The only cure is to get out of the hearing of her, but the -infallible remedy is to nail her tongue to a growing tree, in -the beginning of a cold winter night, and so let her stand till -sun-rising next morning, she’ll become one of the peacegblest women -that ever lay by a man’s side. - -Q. What time of the year is it that there is most holes open? - -A. In harvest when there are stubbles. - -Q. At what time is the cow heaviest? - -A. When the bull is on her back. - -Q. Who was the goodman’s muckle cow’s calf’s mother? - -A. None but the muckle cow herself. - -Q. What is the likeliest thing to a man and a horse? - -A. A tailor and a mare. - -Q. What is the hardest dinner that ever a taylor laid his teeth to? - -A. His own goose, tho’ ever so well boiled or roasted. - -Q. How many tods’ tails will it take to reach up to the moon? - -A. One if it be long enough. - -Q. How many sticks gangs to the bigging of a craw’s nest? - -A. None for they are all carried. - -Q. How many whit’s will a well made pudding prick need? - -A. If it be well made it needs no more. - -Q. Who was the father of Zebedee’s children? - -A. Who but himself. - -Q. Where did Moses go when he was full fifteen years old? - -A. Into his sixteenth. - -Q. How near related is your aunty’s good-brother to you? - -A. No nearer than my own father. - -Q. How many holes are there in a hen’s doup? - -A. Two. - -Q. How prove you that? - -A. There is one for the dung and another for the egg. - -Q. Who is the best for catching of rogues? - -A. None so fit as a rogue himself. - -Q. Where was the usefulest fair in Scotland kept? - -A. At Millgavie.[161] - -Q. What sort of commodities were sold there? - -A. Nothing but ale and ill wicked wives. - -Q. How was it abolished? - -A. Because those who went to it once would go to it no more. - -Q. For what reason? - -A. Because there was no money to be got for them, but fair barter, -wife for wife, and he who put away a wife for one fault got a wife -with two as bad. - -Q. What was the reason that in those days, a man could put away his -wife for pissing the bed, and not for sh----g it? - -A. Because he could shute it away with his foot and ly down. - -Q. What is the reason now a-days, that men court cast marry, and -re-marry so many wives, and only but one in public at last? - -A. Because private marriage is become as common as smuggling and -cuckolding the kirk no more thought of than a man to ride a mile or -two upon his neighbour’s mare, men get will and wale of wives, the -best portion, and properest person is preferred, the first left the -weak to the worst, and she whom he does not love, he shutes away -with his foot, and lies down with whom he pleases. - -Q. How will you know the bairns of our towns by all others in the -kingdom? - -A. By their ill-breeding, and bad manners. - -Q. What is their behaviour? - -A. If you ask them a question in civility, if it were but the road -to the next town, they’ll tell you to follow your nose, and if you -go wrong curse the guide. - -Q. Are young and old of them no better? - -A. All the odds lies in the difference, for if you ask a child to -whom he belongs, or who is his father, he’ll tell you to kiss his -father’s a--. - -Q. What sort of creatures is kindliest when they meet? - -A. None can exceed the kindness of dogs when they meet in a market. - -Q. And what is collie’s kindness there? - -A. First, they kiss others mouths and noses, smell all about, and -last of all, they are so kind as to kiss others below the tail. - -Q. What is the coldest part of a dog? - -A. His nose. - -Q. What is the coldest part of a man? - -A. His knees. - -Q. What is the coldest part of a woman? - -A. The back parts of her body. - -Q. What is the reason, that these three parts of man, woman, and -dogs, are coldest? - -A. Fabulous historian say that there was three little holes in -Noah’s Ark, and that the dog stopt his nose in one, and the other -the man put his knee in it, a third and biggest hole broke, the -woman bang’d her backside in it and these parts being exposed to -the cold blast, make them always cold ever since. - -Q. And what does the women do to warm their cold parts? - -A. The married women turn their backsides to the goodman’s belly; -virgins and those going mad for marriage the heat of their -maidenhead keeps them warm, old matrons, whirl’d o’er maidens, -widow and widows bewitch’d hold up their coldest parts to the fire. - -Q. And what remedy does the poor dog take for his cold nose? - -A. Stops it below his tail the hottest bit in his body. - -Q. What is the reason the dogs are worst on the chapmen, than on -other strange people? - -A. It is said the dogs have three accusations against the chapmen, -handed down from father to son, or from one generation of dogs to -another; the first is as old as Æsop the great wit of Babylon, the -dog having a lawsuit against the cat, gained the plea, and coming -trudging home with the decree below his tail a wicked chapman -throwing his ellwan at him, he let it fa’ and so lost all his -privileges thereby. The second is, because in old times the chapmen -used to buy dogs and kill them for their skins. The third, when a -chapman was quarterd in a farmer’s house, that night the dog lost -his property the licking the pot. - -Q. What creature resembles most a drunken piper? - -A. A cat when she sips milk; she always sings, and so does a piper -when he drinks good ale. - -Q. What is the reason a dog runs twice round about before he ly -down? - -A. Because he does not know the head of his bed from the foot of it. - -Q. What creature resembles most a long lean, ill looking -greasy-fac’d lady for pride? - -A. None so much as the cat, who is continually spitting in her lufe -and rubbing her face, as many of such ladies do the brown leather -of their wrinkled chafts. - -Q. Amongst what sort of creatures will you observe most of a -natural law? - -A. The hart and the hind meet at one certain day in the year; the -brood goose, lays her first egg on Fasterns Even, old stile; the -crows begin to build their nest the first of March old stile; the -swans observe matrimony, and if the female die, the male dares not -take up with another or the rest will put him to death; all the -birds in general join in pairs and keep so; but the dove resembles -the adulterer, when the shoe-one turns old, he puts her away, and -takes another; the locusts observe military order, and march in -bands; the frogs resemble pipers and preachers, for the young ride -the old to death. - -Q. Who are the merriest and heartiest people in the world? - -A. The sailors, for they’ll be singing and cursing one another when -the waves, their graves, are going over their heads. - -Q. Which are the disorderliest creatures in battle? - -A. Cows and dogs for they all fall on them that are neath-most. - -Q. Who are the vainest sort of people in the world? - -A. A barber, a tailor, a young soldier, and a poor dominie. - -Q. What is the great cause of the barber’s vanity? - -A. His being admitted to trim noblemen’s chafts, thyke their -sculls, take kings by the nose, and hold a razor to his very -throat, which no other subject else dare do. - -Q. What is the great cause of the tailor’s pride? - -A. His making of peoples new clothes, of which every person, young -and old is proud of, then who can walk in a vainer shew than a -tailor carrying home a gentleman’s clothes. - -Q. What is the cause of a young soldier’s pride? - -A. When he lists, he thinks he is free from his mother’s -correction, the hard usage of a bad master, has a liberty to curse, -swear, whore, and do every thing; until he be convinced by four -halberts and the drummer’s whip that he has now got both a military -and civil law above his head, and perhaps worse masters than ever. - -Q. What is the cause of the poor dominie’s pride? - -A. As he is a teacher of the young and ignorant, he supposes no man -knows what he knows, the boys call him master therefore he thinks -himself a great man. - -Q. What sort of a song is it that is sung without a tongue, and its -notes are understood by people of all nations? - -A. It is a fart which every person knows to be but wind. - -Q. What is the reason that young people are vain, giddy-headed, and -airy, and not so humble as the children of former years? - -A. Because they are brought up and educat after a more haughty -strain, by reading fables, plays, novels, and romances; gospel -books, such as the psalm-book, proverbs, and the catechisms are -like old almanacks; nothing in vogue, but fiddle, flute, Troy -and Babylonish tunes; our plain English corrupted with beauish -cants, dont, wont, nen, and ken, a jargon worse than the Yorkshire -dialect.[162] - -Q. Why is swearing become so common amongst the Scot people? - -A. Because so many lofty teachers come from the south amongst us, -where swearing is practised in its true grammatical perfection, hot -oaths, new struck, with as bright a lustre as a new quarter guinea. - -Q. How will you know the bones of a mason’s mare at the back of a -dyke amongst the bones of a hundred dead horses. - -A. Because it is made of wood. - -Q. Which are the two things not to be spared, but not to be abused. - -A. A soldier’s coat, and a hired horse.[163] - -Q. How is a man in debt like a nobleman? - -A. Because he has many to wait on and call for him. - -Q. How is swearing like a shabby coat? - -A. Because it is a bad habit. - -Q. How is a bad pen like a wicked and profligate man? - -A. Because it wants mending. - -Q. Why is a church bell like a story that is handed about? - -A. Because it is often toll’d. - -Q. What is a man like that is in the midst of a river and cannot -swim? - -A. He is like to be drowned. - -Q. Why is a drawn tooth like a thing that is forgot? - -A. Because it is out of one’s head. - -Q. Why is a book like a tree? - -A. Because it is full of leaves. - -Q. Why is a good sermon like a plump pudding? - -A. Because there is reasons in it. - -Q. How is a whorish woman like a charitable person? - -A. Because she brings her husband to a piece of bread.[164] - -Q. How is a lawyer like a contentious person? - -A. Because he breeds wrangling and jangling. - -Q. Who is the greatest fool in the world? - -A. A whore; for she hazards soul and body for a miserable -livelihood. - -Q. Who are the two greatest thieves in Great Britain? - -A. Tea and Tobacco, for they pick the pockets of the whole nation. - -Q. What is the difference between Ale-drapers and Linen-drapers? - -A. Only this, the one cheats you with froth and the other with -cloth. - -Q. If Extortioners cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven, where will -Usurers, Tallymen, and Pawn-brokers go? - -A. The same road with Extortioners. - -Q. What is the consequence of immoderate gaming? - -A. By cards and dice, a man is ruin’d in a trice, for gaming and -whoring often hang together. - -Q. What employments are likest to one another? - -A. Soldiers and Butchers are bloody near relations, for they both -live by slaughtering and killing. - -Q. What are the two hardest things to be found, and yet they are -both good in their kind? - -A. Good women and good small beer. - -Q. Who is the likest to a Boatman? - -A. An hypocrite, who always look one way and rows another, in all -his transactions. - -Q. What are the five greatest rarities to be found in the world? - -A. A black Swan, a Phœnix, an Unicorn, the Philosophers’ Stone, and -a maiden at sixteen. - -Q. What is the greatest folly that sensible people can be guilty of? - -A. To go to law about trifles, for whatever way the plea end, the -lawyers will be the greatest gainers. - -Q. Who has the honestest trade in the world? - -A. Ballad-singers; for they always deal with ready-money: and it is -as ancient as the Siege of Troy, for Homer was a ballad-singer. - -Q. What is the surest method for one to become both rich and -respectable? - -A. To be sober and industrious. - -Q. What is the best method of overcoming the argument of a positive -person? - -A. Either to say with him, or give him no answer. - -Q. What is the wisest course to be followed by a man who has a -brawling and scolding wife? - -A. To keep silent, and then she’ll bite her own fingers with anger. - -Q. What thing is that which is lengthened by being cut at both ends? - -A. A Ditch. - -Q. What is that which was born without a soul, lived and had a -soul, yet died without a soul? - -A. The whale that swallowed Jona. - -Q. What is the longest and the shortest thing in the world? the -swiftest and the slowest? the most indivisible and the most -extended? the least valued and the most regretted? without which -nothing can be done? which devours all that is small, yet gives -life and spirit to all that is great? - -A. Time. - -Q. What creatures are those which appear closely connected, yet -upon examination are found to be three distinct bodies, with eight -legs, five on one side, and three on the other; three mouths, two -straight forwards, and the third on one side; six eyes, four on one -side, two on the other: six ears, four on one side, and two on the -other? - -A. A Man and Woman on horseback. - -Q. Why is a churchyard like an inn? - -A. Because it receives weary travellers. - -Q. Why is a carrotty[165] lady like a troop of soldiers? - -A. Because she bears fire-locks. - -Q. What did Adam first set in the garden of Eden? - -A. His foot. - -Q. How is it that a clergyman’s horse is like a King? - -A. Because he is guided by a minister. - -Q. What is the difference between a boiled sheep’s head and a -sheep’s head boiled? - -A. In the first the sheep is boiled and in the last the head is -boiled. - -Q. What kind of snuff is that, the more that is taken the fuller -the box is? - -A. It is the snuff off the candle. - -Q. What relation is that child to its own father who is not its -father’ own son? - -A. Surely his daughter. - -Q. What is that which is often brought to table, always cut, but -never eaten? - -A. A pack of cards. - -Q. Where was Peter when his candle went out? - -A. He was in the dark. - -Q. What relation is your uncle’s brother to you who is not your -uncle? - -A. He must be your father. - -Q. What difference is there between twice five and twenty and twice -twenty five? - -A. The former is 30, the latter is 50. - -Q. Why is a brewer’s horse like a tap-ster? - -A. Because they draw drafts of drink. - - -END OF THE CARICHES. - - - - -_THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADY FROM CORK._ - - - [The text here followed is that of an edition in the possession - of Matthew Shields, Esq. The full title is:--‘The Comical - Sayings of Pady from Cork, with his coat button’d behind. Being - an Elegant Conference between English Tom and Irish Teague: - With Pady’s Catechism, his Opinion of Purgatory, the State of - the dead; and his Supplication when a Mountain Sailor. To which - is added, a Creed for all Romish Believers. In all its parts, - carefully corrected. Glasgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertson, (No. - 18.) Saltmarket, 1807.’ It is a 24 pp. 12mo. Pady’s Catechism and - petition, and the Creed, have been collated with the versions of - them given in the 1777 edition of _Lothian Tom_. See prefatory - note to that chap-book at p. 66 of the present volume, and also - footnote at p. 84.] - - - - -THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADY FROM CORK. - - -PART I. - -_Tom._ Good morrow, Sir, this is a very cold day. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, yesternight was a very cold morning. - -_Tom._ Well brother traveller, of what nation art thou? - -_Teag._ Arra dear shoy, I come from my own kingdom. - -_Tom._ Why, Sir, I know that, but where is thy kingdom? - -_Teag._ Allelieu dear honey, don’t you know Cork in Ireland. - -_Tom._ O you fool, Cork is not a kingdom, but a city. - -_Teag._ Then dear shoy, I’m shure it is in a kingdom. - -_Tom._ And what is the reason you have come and left your own dear -country? - -_Teag._ Arra dear honey, by shaint Patrick, they have got such -comical laws in our country, that they’ll put a man to death in -perfect health; so to be free and plain with you, neighbour, I -was obliged to come away, for I did not choose to stay among such -a people that can hang a poor man when they please, if he either -steals, robs, or kills a man. - -_Tom._ Ay, but I take you to be more of an honest man, than to -steal, rob, or kill a man. - -_Teag._ Honest, I am perfectly honest, when I was but a child, my -mother would have trusted me with a house full of mill-stones. - -_Tom._ What was the matter, was you guilty of nothing? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I did harm to nobody? but fancied an old -gentleman’s gun, and afterwards made it my own. - -_Tom._ Very well boy, and did you keep it so? - -_Teag._ Keep it, I would have kept it with all my heart while I -lived, death itself could not have parted us, but the old rogue, -the gentleman, being a justice of the peace himself, had me tried -for the rights of it, and how I came by it, and so took it again. - -_Tom._ And how did you clear yourself without punishment? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I told him a parcel of lies, but they -would not believe me; for I said that I got it from my father when -it was a little pistol, and I had keeped it till it had grown a -gun, and was designed to use it well until it had grown a big -cannon, and then sell it to the military. They all fell a laughing -at me as I had been a fool, and bade me go home to my mother and -clean the potatoes. - -_Tom._ How long is it since you left your own country? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I do not mind whether it be a fortnight -or four months, but I think myself, it is a long time; they tell -me my mother is dead since, but I won’t believe it, until I get a -letter from her own hand, for she is a very good scholar, suppose -she can neither write nor read. - -_Tom._ Was you ever in England before? - -_Teag._ Ay, that I was, and in Scotland too. - -_Tom._ And were they kind to you when you was in Scotland? - -_Teag._ They were that kind, that they kick’t my arse for me, and -the reason was because I would not pay the whole of the liquor that -was drunk in the company, though the landlord and his two sons got -mouthful about of it; they would have me pay it all, tho’ I did not -drink it all, and I told them it was a trick upon travellers, first -to drink his liquor, and then to kick him out of doors. - -_Tom._ I really think they have used you badly, but could you not -beat them? - -_Teag._ That’s what I did, beat them all to their own contentment; -but there was one of them stronger than me, who would have killed -me, if the other two had not pulled me away, and I had to run for -it, till his passion was over; then they made us drink and gree -again; we shook hands, and made a bargain, never to harm other -more; but this bargain did not last long, for, as I was kissing his -mouth, by shaint Patrick, I bit his nose, which caused him to beat -me very sore for my pains. - -_Tom._ Well Pady, what calling was you when in Scotland. - -_Teag._ Why sir, I was no business at all, but what do you call the -green tree that’s like a whin bush, many people makes a thing to -sweep the house of it! - -_Tom._ O yes Pady, they call it a broom. - -_Teag._ Ay, ay, you have it, then I was a gentleman’s broom, only -waited on his horses, and washed the dishes for the cook; and when -my master rode a hunting, I ran behind along with the dogs. - -_Tom._ O yes, Pady, it was a groom you mean, but I fancy you was -cook’s mate, or kitchen-boy. - -_Teag._ No, no, it was the broom that I was, and if I had staid -there till now, I might have been advanced as high as my master, -for the ladies loved me so well, that they laughed at me. - -_Tom._ They might admire you for a fool. - -_Teag._ What sir, do you imagine that I am not a fool, no, no, my -master asked counsel of me in all his matters, and I always gave -him a reason for every thing: I told him one morning that he went -too soon to the hunting, that the hares were not got out of their -beds; and neither the barking of horns nor the blowing of dogs, -could make them rise, it was such a cold morning that night; so -they all ran away that we catched, when we did not see them. Then -my master told my words to several gentlemen that was at dinner -with him, and they admired me for want of wisdom, saying, I was -certainly a man of great judgement, for my head was all of a lump, -added, they were going a-fishing along with my master and me in -the afternoon; but I told them it was a very unhappy thing for any -man to go a hunting in the morning and a fishing in the afternoon; -yet they would try it, but they had better staid at home, for -it came on a most terrible fine night of south-west rain and -even-down-wind: so the fishes got all below the water to keep them -dry from the shower, and we catched them all, but got none of them. - -_Tom._ And how long did you serve that gentleman, Pady? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I was with him six weeks, and he beat me -seven times. - -_Tom._ For what did he beat you? was it for your madness and -foolish tricks? - -_Teag._ Dear shoy, it was not; but for being too inquisitive and -going sharply about business. First, he sent me to the post-office, -to enquire if there was any letters for him: so when I came there, -said I, is there any letters here for my master to-day? Then they -asked who was my master; sir, said I, it is very bad manners in you -to ask any gentleman’s name: at this they laughed, mocking me, and -said they could give me none, if I would not tell my master’s name: -so I returned to my master, and told the impudence of the fellow, -how he would give me no letters unless I would tell him your name, -master. My master at this flew in a great passion, and kicked me -down stairs, saying, Go you rogue and tell my name directly, how -can the gentleman give letters, when he knows not who is asking for -them! Then I returned and told my master’s name, so they told me -there was one for him, I looked at it, but being very small, and -asking the price of it; they told me it was sixpence! sixpence, -said I, will you take sixpence for that small thing, and selling -bigger ones for twopence; faith I am not such a big fool; you think -to cheat me, now, this is not a conscionable way of dealing, I’ll -acquaint my master of it first; so I came and told my master how -they would have sixpence for his letter and was selling bigger -ones for twopence; he took up my head and broke his cane with it, -calling me a thousand fools, saying, the man was more just, than to -take any thing but the right for it: but I was sure there was none -of the right buying and selling such dear penny-worths: So I came -again for my dear sixpence letter; and as the fellow was shuffling -through a parcel of them, seeking for it again, to make the best -of a dear market, I pick’t up two, and home I comes to my master, -thinking he would be well pleased with what I had done, now, said -I, master, I think I have put a trick on them fellows, for selling -the letter to you: What have you done? said he, said I, I have -only taken other two letters; here’s one for you, master, to help -your dear penny-worth, and I’ll send the other to my mother to see -whether she be dead or alive, for she’s always angry I don’t write -to her: I had not the word well spoken, till he got up his stick -and beat me heartily for it, and sent me back to the fellows again -with the two: I had a very ill will to go, but nobody would buy -them of me by the way. - -_Tom._ A well, Pady, I think you was to blame, and your master -too, for he ought to have taught you how to have gone about those -affairs, and not beat you so. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I had too much wit of my own to be -teached by him, or any body else; he began to instruct me after -that, how I should serve the table, and such nasty things as those: -one night I took ben a roasted fish in one hand, and a piece -of bread in the other; the old gentleman was so saucy he would -not take it, and told me, I should bring nothing to him without -a trencher below it: the same night as he was going to bed, he -called for his slippers and pish-pot, so I clapt a trencher below -the pish-pot, and another below the slippers, and ben I goes, -one in every hand: no sooner did I enter the room, than he threw -the pish-pot at me which broke both my head and the pish-pot at -one blow: now, said I, the devil is in my master altogether, for -what he commands at one time he countermands at another. Next day -I went with him to the market to buy a sack of potatoes, I went -to the potatoe-monger, and asked what he took for the full of a -Scot’s cog, he weighed them in, he asked no less than fourpence; -fourpence, said I, if I were but in Dublin, I could get the full of -that for nothing, and in Cork and Kinsale far cheaper; them is but -small things like pease, said I, but the potatoes in my country is -as big as your head, fine meat, all made up in blessed mouthfuls; -the potatoe-merchant called me a liar, and my master called me a -fool, so the one fell a-kicking me, and the other a cuffing me, I -was in such bad bread among them, that I called myself both a liar -and a fool to get off alive. - -_Tom._ And how did you carry your potatoes home from the market? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I carried the horse and them both, besides -a big loaf, and two bottles of wine: for I put the old horse on my -back, and drove the potatoes before me: and when I tied the load to -the loaf, I had nothing to do but to carry the bottle in my hand: -but bad luck to the way as I came home, for a nail out of the heal -of my foot sprung a leak in my brogue, which pricked the very bone, -bruised the skin, and made my brogue itself to blood: and I having -no hammer by me, but a hatchet I left at home, I had to beat down -the nail with the bottom of the bottle: and by the book, dear shoy, -it broke to pieces, and scattered the wine in my mouth. - -_Tom._ And how did you recompense your master for the loss of your -bottle of wine? - -_Teag._ Arra dear shoy, I had a mind to cheat him, and myself too, -for I took the bottle to a blacksmith, and desired him to mend it, -that I might go to the butcher and get it full of bloody water, but -he told me he could not work in any thing but steel and iron. Arra, -said I, if I were in my own kingdom, I could get a blacksmith who -would make a bottle out of a stone, and a stone out of nothing. - -_Tom._ And how did you trick your master out of it? - -_Teag._ Why the old rogue began to chide me, asking me what way -I broke it, then I held up the other as high as my head, and let -it fall to the ground on a stone, which broke it all in pieces -likewise: now, said I, master, that’s the way, and then he beat me -very heartily, until I had to shout out mercy and murder all at -once. - -_Tom._ Why did you not leave him when he used you so badly. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I could never think to leave him while I -could eat, he gave me so many good victuals, and promised to prefer -me to be his own bone-picker. But by shaint Patrick, I had to run -away with my life or all was done, else I had lost my dear shoul -and body too by him, and then I came home much poorer than I went -away. The great big bitch dog which was my master’s best beloved, -put his head into a pitcher to lick out some milk, and when it -was in he could not get it out, and I to save the pitcher got the -hatchet and cut off the dog’s head, and then I had to break the -pitcher to get out the head; by this I lost both the dog and the -pitcher. My master, hearing of this, swore he would cut the head -off me, for the poor dog was made useless, and could not see to -follow any body for want of his eyes: And when I heard of this, I -ran away with my own head, for if I had wanted it I had lost my -eyes too, then I would not have seen the road to Port Patrick, -through Glen-nap, but by shaint Patrick I came home alive in spite -of them all. - -_Tom._ O rarely done Pady, you behaved like a man, but what is the -reason that you Irish people swear always by shaint Patrick, what -is this shaint Patrick? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, he was the best shaint in the world, the -father of all good people in the kingdom, he has a great kindness -for an Irishman, when he hears him calling on his name; he was the -first that sow’d the potatoes in Ireland, for he knew it was a bit -of good fit ground, it being a gentleman’s garden before Noah’s -flood. - -_Tom._ But dear Pady, is shaint Patrick yet alive, that he hears -the Irish people when they speak of his name? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I don’t know whether he be dead or alive, -but it’s a long time since they killed him, the people turned all -heathens, for he would not change his profession, and was going to -run the country with it, and for taking his gospel away to England, -so the barbarous tories of Dublin cutted off his head, and what do -you think he did when his head was off? - -_Tom._ What could a dead man do you fool? - -_Teag._ Dead, faith he was not such a big fool as to die yet, he -swimmed over to England after this, and brought his head along with -him.[166] - -_Tom._ And how did he carry his head and swim too? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, he carried his head in his teeth. - -_Tom._ No, Pady, it won’t hold, I must have caution for that. - -_Teag._ If you won’t believe me, I’ll swear it over again. - - -PART II. - -_Tom._ And how did you get safe out of Scotland at last? - -_Teag._ By the law dear honey, when I came to Port Patrick, and saw -my own kingdom, I thought I was safe at home, but I was clean dead -and almost drowned before I could get riding over the water: for -I, with nine passengers more, leapt in a little young boat, having -but four men dwelling in a little house, in the one end of it, -which was all thacked with deals: and after they had pulled up her -tether-stick, and laid her long halter over her mane, they pulled -up a long big sheet like three pair of blankets to the riggen of -the house, and the wind blew in that, which made her gallop up one -hill and down another, till I thought she would have run to the -world’s end if some part of the world had not catch’t her by the -foot. - -_Tom._ I fancy, Pady, you was by this time very sick? - -_Teag._ Sick, ay sick beyond all sickness, clean dead as a -door-nail; for as I had lost the key of my backside, I bock’d up -the very bottom of my belly, and I thought that liver and lungs, -and all that I had should have gone together; then I called to the -fellow that held by her tail behind, to pull down his sheet and -hold her head, till I got leasure to die, and then say my prayers. - -_Tom._ Well then, Pady, and got you safe ashore at last? - -_Teag._ Ay, we came ashore very fast; but, by shaint Patrick, I -shall never venture my dear shoul and body in such a young boat -again, while the wind blows out of Scots Galloway.[167] - -_Tom._ Well, Pady, and where did you go when you came to Ireland -again? - -_Teag._ Arra dear honey, and where did I go, but to my own dear -cousin, who was now become very rich by the death of the old buck -his father: who died but a few weeks before I went over, and the -parish had to bury him out of pity, it did not cost him a farthing. - -_Tom._ And what entertainment or good usage did you get there, Pady? - -_Teag._ O my dear shoy, I was kindly used as another gentleman, -for I told him I had made something of it, by my travels, as well -as himself, but I had got no money, therefore I had to work for my -victuals while I staid with him. - -_Tom._ Ho, poor Pady, I suppose you would not stay long there. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I could have staid there long enough, but -when a man is poor his friends think little of him: I told him I -was going to see my brother Harry: Harry, said he, is dead: dead -said I, and who killed him? Why said he, death: Allelieu, dear -honey, and where did he kill him? said I. In his bed, said he; O -what for a cowardly action was that, said I, to kill a man in his -bed: and what is this fellow death? said I. What is he, He is one -that kills more than the head butcher in all Cork does. Arra, dear -honey, said I, if he had been upon Newry mountains with his brogues -on, and his broad sword by his side, all the deaths in Ireland had -not have killed him: O that impudent fellow death, if he had let -him alone till he died for want of butter milk and potatoes, I am -sure he had lived all the days of his life. - -_Tom._ In all your travels when abroad, did you never see any of -your countrymen, to inform you of what happened at home concerning -your relations? - -_Teag._ Arra dear shoy, I saw none but Tom Jack one day in the -street; but when I came to him, it was not him, but one just like -him. - -_Tom._ On what account did you go a travelling? - -_Teag._ Why, a decruiting sergeant listed me to be a captain, and -after all advanced me no higher than a soldier itself, but only he -called me his dear countryman recruit: for I did not know what the -regiment was when I saw them; I thought they were all gentlemen’s -sons and collegeoners, when I saw a box like a bible upon their -bellies: until I saw K for King George upon it, and R for God bless -him: ho, ho, said I, I shan’t be long here. - -_Tom._ O then Pady, you deserted from them? - -_Teag._ Ah that’s what I did, and run to the mountains like a wild -buck, and ever since when I see any soldiers I close my eyes, lest -they should look and know me. - -_Tom._ And what exploits did you do when you were a soldier? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I killed a man. - -_Tom._ And how did you that? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, when he dropt his sword, I drew mine, and -advanced boldly to him, and then cutted off his foot. - -_Tom._ O then what a big fool was you; for you ought first to have -cut off his head. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, his head was cutted off before I engaged -him, else I had not done it. - -_Tom._ O then Pady, you acted like a fool; but you are not such a -big fool as many take you to be, you might pass for a philosopher. - -_Teag._ A fulusifair, my father was a fulusifair, besides he was a -man under great authority by law, condemning the just and clearing -the guilty: do you know how they call the horse’s mother? - -_Tom._ Why they call her a mare. - -_Teag._ A mare, ay very well minded, by shaint Patrick, my father -was a mare in Cork. - -_Tom._ And what riches was left you by the death of your mother? - -_Teag._ A bad luck to her old barren belly, for she lived in great -plenty, and died in great poverty: devoured up all or she died, -but two hens and a pockful of potatoes, a poor estate for an Irish -gentleman, in faith. - -_Tom._ And what did you make of your hens and potatoes, did you sow -them? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and sold the -hens to a cadger. - -_Tom._ And what business did your mother follow after? - -_Teag._ Greatly in the merchant way. - -_Tom._ And what sort of goods did she deal in? - -_Teag._ Dear honey, she went through the country and sold small -fishes, onions and apples: bought hens and eggs, and then hatched -them herself. I remember one long-necked cock she had of an oversea -brood, that stood on the midden and picked all the stars out of the -north-west so they were never so thick there since. - -_Tom._ Now Pady, that’s a bull surpasses all: but is there none of -that cock’s offspring alive in Ireland now? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I don’t think that there are, but it is a -pity but they had, for they would fly with people above the sea, -which would put the use of ships out of fashion, and then there -would be nobody drowned at sea at all. - -_Tom._ Very well Pady: but in all your travels did you ever get a -wife? - -_Teag._ Ay that’s what I did, and wicked wife too. - -_Tom._ And what is become of her now? - -_Teag._ Dear shoy, I can’t tell whether she is gone to Purgatory, -or the parish of Pig-trantrum: for she told me she should certainly -die the first opportunity she could get, as this present evil -world was not worth the waiting on, so she would go and see what -good things is in the world to come; and so when that old rover -called the Fever, came raging like a madman over the whole kingdom, -knocking the people on the head with deadly blows, she went away -and died out of spite, leaving me with nothing but two motherless -children. - -_Tom._ O, but Pady, you ought to have gone to a doctor, and got -some pills and physic for her. - -_Teag._ By shaint Patrick I had as good a pill of my own as any -doctor in the kingdom could give her, and as for sneeshing, she -could never use snuff nor tobacco in her life. - -_Tom._ O you fool that is not what I mean; you ought to have -brought the doctor to feel her pulse, and let blood of her if he -thought it needful. - -_Teag._ Yes, that’s what I did; for I ran to the doctor whenever -she died, and sought something for a dead or dying woman; the old -foolish devil was at his dinner, and began to ask me some dirty -questions, which I answered distinctly. - -_Tom._ And what did he ask, Pady? - -_Teag._ Why, he asked me, How did my wife go to stool? to which I -answered, the same way that other women go to a chair: no, said he, -that’s not what I mean, how does she purge? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said -I, all the fire in Purgatory wont purge her clean; for she has both -a cold and stinking breath. Sir, said he, that is not what I ask -you, whether does she shit thick or thin? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said -I, it is sometimes so thick and hard that you may take it in your -hand, and eat it like a piece of cheese or pudding, and at other -times you may drink it, or sup it with a spoon. At this he flew in -a most terrible rage, and kicked me down stairs, and would give me -nothing to her, but called me a dirty scoundrel for speaking of -shit before ladies. - -_Tom._ And was you sorry when your wife died? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, if any body had beat me, I was fit to cry -myself. - -_Tom._ And in what good order did you bury your wife when she died? - -_Teag._ O my dear shoy she was buried in all manner of pomp, -pride, and splendour; a fine coffin with cords in it, and within -the coffin along with herself, she got a pair of new brogues, a -penny candle, a good hard-headed old hammer, with an Irish sixpenny -piece, to pay her passage at the gate and what more could she look -for.[168] - -_Tom._ I really think you gave her enough along with her, but you -ought to have cried for her, if it was no more but to be in the -fashion. - -_Teag._ And why should I cry without sorrow? when we hired two -criers to cry all the way before her to keep in the fashion. - -_Tom._ And what do they cry before a dead woman? - -_Teag._ Why they cry the common cry, or funeral lament that is used -in our Irish country. - -_Tom._ And what manner of cry is that, Pady? - -_Teag._ Dear Tom, if you don’t know, I’ll tell you, when any dies, -there is a number of criers goes before, saying, Luff, fuff, fou, -allelieu, dear honey, what aileth thee to die! it was not for want -of good buttermilk and potatoes. - - -PART III. - -_Tom._ Well Pady, and what did you do when your wife died? - -_Teag._ Dear honey, what would I do: do you think I was such a big -fool as to die too, I am sure, If I had I would not have got fair -play, when I am not so old yet as my father was when he died. - -_Tom._ No, Pady, it is not that I mean, was you sorry, or did you -weep for her? - -_Teag._ Weep for her; by shaint Patrick I would not weep nor yet be -sorry, suppose my own mother and all the women in Ireland had died -seven years before I was born. - -_Tom._ What did you do with your children when she died? - -_Teag._ Do you imagine I was such a big fool as bury my children -alive, along with a dead woman: Arra, dear honey, we always -commonly give nothing along with a dead person, but an old shirt, -a winding sheet, a big hammer, with a long candle, and an Irish -silver three-penny piece? - -_Tom._ Dear Pady, and what use do they make of all them things? - -_Teag._ Then, Tom, since you are so inquisitive, you must go ask -the priest. - -_Tom._ What did you make of your children then Pady? - -_Teag._ And what should I make of them, do you imagine that I -should give them into the hands of the butchers, as they had been a -parcel of young hogs: by shaint Patrick, I had more unnaturality in -me, than to put them in an hospital as others do. - -_Tom._ No, I suppose you would leave them with your friends? - -_Teag._ Ay, ay, a poor man’s friends is sometimes worse than a -profest enemy: the best friend I ever had in the world was my own -pocket while my money lasted; but I left two babes between the -priest’s door and the parish church, because I thought it was a -place of mercy, and then set out for England in quest of another -fortune. - -_Tom._ And did you not take good-night with your friends ere you -came away? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I had no friends in the world but an -Irish half-crown, and I would have been very sorry to parted with -such a dear pocket-companion at such a time. - -_Tom._ I fancy Pady, you’ve come off with what they call a -moon-shine flitting. - -_Teag._ You lie like a thief now, for I did not see sun, moon, nor -stars, all the night then: for I set out from Cork at the dawn of -night, and I had travelled twenty miles all but twelve, before -gloaming in the morning. - -_Tom._ And where did you go to take shipping? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I came to a country village called -Dublin, as a big a city as any market-town in all England, where I -got myself abroad of a little young boat, with a parcel of fellows, -and a long leather bag, I supposed them to be tinkers, until I -asked what they carried in that leather sack; they told me it was -the English mail they were going over with: then said I, is the -milns so scant in England, that they must send over their corn to -Ireland to grind it; the comical cunning fellows persuaded me it -was so; then I went down to a little house below the water, hard -by the rigg-back of the boat, and laid me down on their leather -sack, where I slept myself almost to death with hunger. And dear -Tom, to tell you plainly, when I awaked I did not know where I was, -but thought I was dead and buried, for I found nothing all round me -but wooden walls and timber above. - -_Tom._ And how did you come to yourself, to know where you was at -last. - -_Teag._ By the law, dear shoy, I scratched my head in a hundred -parts, and then set me down to think upon it, so I minded it was my -wife that was dead, and not me, and that I was alive in the young -post boat, with the fellows that carries over English meal from the -Irish milns. - -_Tom._ O then, Pady, I am sure yon was glad when you found yourself -alive? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I was very sure I was alive, but I did not -think to live long, so I thought it was better for me to steal and -be hanged, than to live all my days, and die directly with hunger -at last. - -_Tom._ What, had you no meat nor money along with you? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I gave all the money to the captain of the -house or gudeman of the ship, to carry me into the sea, or over -to England, and when I was like to eat my old brogues for want of -victuals, I drew my hanger and cut their leather sack thinkin’ to -get a lick of their meal; but allelieu, dear shoy, I found nothing, -meal nor seeds, but a parcel of papers and letters, a poor morsel -indeed for a hungry man. - -_Tom._ O then Pady you laid down your honesty for nothing. - -_Teag._ Ay, ay, I was a great theif, but got nothing to steal. - -_Tom._ And how did you come to get victuals at last? - -_Teag._ Allelieu, dear honey, the thoughts of meat and drink, death -and life, and every thing else, was out of my mind, I had not a -thought but one. - -_Tom._ And what was that Pady? - -_Teag._ To go down among the fishes and become a whale; then I -would have lived an easy life all my days, having nothing to do but -drink salt water, and eat caller oysters. - -_Tom._ What Pady, was you like to be drowned again? - -_Teag._ Ay, ay, drowned, as cleanly drowned as a fish, for the sea -blew very loud, and the wind ran so high, that we were all cast -away safe on shore, and not one of us drowned at all. - -_Tom._ And where did you go when you came on shore? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I was not able to go any where, you might -cast a knot on my belly, I was so hollow in my middle so I went -into a gentleman’s house and told him the bad fortune I had of -being drowned between Ireland and the foot of his garden; where we -came all safe ashore. But all the comfort I got from him was a word -of truth. - -_Tom._ And what was that Pady? - -_Teag._ Why he told me if I had been a good boy at home: I needed -not to have gone so far to push my fortune with an empty pocket; to -which I answered, and what magnifies that, as long as I am a good -workman at no trade at all. - -_Tom._ I suppose, Pady, the gentleman would make you dine with him? - -_Teag._ I really thought I was, when I saw them roasting and -skinning so many black chickens which was nothing but a few dead -crows they were going to eat; ho, ho, said I, them is but dry meat -at the best, of all the fowls that flie, commend me to the wing of -an ox: but all that came to my share, was a piece of boiled herring -and a roasted potatoe, that was the first bit of bread I ever eat -in England. - -_Tom._ Well, Pady, what business did you follow after in England, -when you was so poor? - -_Teag._ What sir, do you imagine I was poor when I came over on -such an honourable occasion as to list, and bring myself to no -preferment at all. As I was an able bodied man in the face, I -thought to be made a brigadeer, a grandedeer, or a fuzeleer, or -even one of them blew gowns that holds the fiery stick to the -bung-hole of the big cannons, when they let them off, to fright -away the French; I was as sure as no man alive ere I came from -Cork, the least preferment I could get, was to be riding-master to -a regiment of marines, or one of the black horse itself. - -_Tom._ Well Pady, you seem to be a very clever man, to be all in -one body, what height are you? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I am five foot nothing, all but one inch. - -_Tom._ And where in England was it you listed? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I was going through that little country -village, the famous city of Chester, the streets was very sore by -reason of the hardness of my feet, and lameness of my brogues, so -I went but very slowly a-cross the streets, from port to port is -a pretty long way, but I being weary thought nothing of it: then -the people came all crowding to me as I had been a world’s wonder, -or the wandering Jew: For the rain blew in my face, and the wind -wetted all my belly, which caused me to turn the backside of my -coat before, and my buttons behind, which was a good safeguard to -my body, and the starvation of my naked back: as I had not a good -shirt. - -_Tom._ I am sure then, Pady, they would take you for a fool? - -_Teag._ No, no, sir, they admired me for my wisdom, for I always -turned my buttons before, when the wind blew on behind, but I -wondered greatly how the people knew my name, and where I came -from: for every one told another, that was Pady from Cork: I -suppose they knew my face by seeing my name in the newspapers. - -_Tom._ Well, Pady, what business did you follow in Chester? - -_Teag._ To be sure I was not idle, working at nothing at all, until -a decruiting sergeant came to town with two or three fellows along -with him, one beating on a fiddle, and another playing on a drum, -tossing their airs thro’ the street, as if they were going to be -married: and I saw them courting none but young men; so to bring -myself to no preferment at all, I listed for a soldier because I -was too high for a grandedeer. - -_Tom._ And what listing money did you get, Pady? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I got five thirteens and a pair of English -brogues; the guinea and the rest of the gold was sent away to -London, to the King my master, to buy me new shirts, a cockade, and -common treasing for my hat, they made me swear the malicious oath -of devilrie against the King, the colours, and my captain, telling -me if ever I desert and not run away, that I should be shot, and -then whipt to death, through the regiment. - -_Tom._ No Pady: it is first whipt and then shot you mean. - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, it is all one thing at last, but it is -best to be shot and then whipt, the cleverest way to die, I’ll -warrant you. - -_Tom._ How much pay did you get, Pady? - -_Teag._ Do you know the little tall fat seargeant that feed me to -be a soldier? - -_Tom._ And how should I know them I never saw, you fool? - -_Teag._ Dear shoy, you may know him whether you see him or not! for -his face is all bored in big holes with the small pox, his nose -is the colour of a lobster-toe, and his chin like a well washen -potatoe: he’s the biggest rogue in our kingdom, you’ll know him -when he cheats you, and the wide world; and another mark, he dights -his mouth before he drinks, and blows his nose before he takes a -snuff; the rogue height me sixpence a day, kill or no kill: and -when I laid Sunday and Saturday both together, and all the days in -one day, I can’t make a penny above fivepence of it. - -_Tom._ You should have kept an account, and asked your arrears once -a month. - -_Teag._ That’s what I did, but he read a paternoster, out of his -prayer book, wherein all our names are written; so much for a -stop-hold to my gun, to bucklers, to a pair of comical harn-hose, -with leather buttons from top to toe; and worst of all, he would -have no less than a penny a week to a doctor; arra, said I, I never -had a sore finger nor yet a sick toe, all the days of my life, then -what have I to do with the doctor, or the doctor to do with me? - -_Tom._ And did he make you pay all these things? - -_Teag._ Ay, ay, pay and better pay; he took me before his captain, -who made me pay all was in his book. Arra, master captain, said I, -you are a comical sort of a fellow now, you might as well make me -pay for my coffin before I be dead, as to pay for a doctor before -I be sick; to which he answered in a passion, sirra, said he, I -have seen many a better man buried without a coffin: sir, said I, -then I’ll have a coffin, die when I will, if there be as much wood -in all the world, or I shall not be buried at all. Then he called -for the sergeant, saying, you, sir, go and buy that man’s coffin, -and put it in the store till he die, and stop sixpence a week off -his pay for it: No, no, sir, said I, I’ll rather die without a -coffin; and seek none when I’m dead; but if you are for clipping -another sixpence off my poor pay, keep it all to yourself, and I’ll -swear all your oaths of agreement we had back again, and then seek -soldiers where you will. - -_Tom._ O then Pady, how did you end the matter? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, by the mights of shaint Patrick and help -of my own brogues, I both ended it, and mended it, for the next -night before that, I gave them leg bail for my fidelity, and then -went about the country a fortune-teller, dumb and deaf as I was not. - -_Tom._ How old was you Pady when you was a soldier last? - -_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I was three dozen all but two, and it is -only but two years since, so I want only four years of three dozen -yet, and when I live six dozen more, I’ll be older than I am, I’ll -warrand you. - -_Tom._ O but Pady, by your account, you are three dozen of years -old already. - -_Teag._ O what for a big fool are you now Tom, when you count the -years I lay sick; which time I count no time at all. - - -A NEW CATECHISM, &c. - -_Tom._ Of all the opinions professed in religion tell me now, Pady, -of what profession art thou? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, my religion was too weighty a matter -to carry out of my own country: I was afraid that you English -Presbyterians should pluck it away from me. - -_Tom._ What, Pady, was your religion such a load that you could not -carry it along with you? - -_Pady._ Yes, that it was, but I carried it always about with me -when at home, my sweet cross upon my dear breast, bound to my dear -button hole. - -_Tom._ And what manner of worship did you perform by that? - -_Pady._ Why I adored my cross, the pope, and the priest, cursed -Oliver, as black as a crow, and swears myself a cut throat against -all Protestants and church of Englandmen. - -_Tom._ And what is the matter but you would be a church of -Englandman, or a Scotch Presbyterian yourself, Pady? - -_Pady._ Because it is unnatural for an Irishman, but had shaint -Patrick been a Presbyterian, I had been the same. - -_Tom._ And for what reason would you be a Presbyterian then, Pady? - -_Pady._ Because they have a liberty to eat flesh in lent, and every -thing that’s fit for the belly. - -_Tom._ What, Pady, are you such a lover of flesh that you would -change your profession for it? - -_Pady._ O yes, that’s what I did, I love flesh of all kinds, -sheep’s beef, swine’s mutton, hare’s flesh, and hen’s venison; -but our religion is one of the hungriest in all the world, ah! -but it makes my teeth to weep, and my belly to water, when I see -the Scotch Presbyterians and English churchmen, in time of lent, -feeding upon bull’s bastards, and sheep’s young children. - -_Tom._ Why Pady, do you say the bull is a fornicator, and gets -bastards? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, I never saw the cow and her husband, all -the days of my life, nor before I was born, going to the church -to be married, and what then can his sons and daughters be but -bastards? - -_Tom._ O Pady, Pady, the cow is but a cow, but and so are you: but -what reward will you get when you are dead, for punishing your -belly so while you are alive? - -_Pady._ By shaint Patrick I’ll live like a king when I’m dead, for -I will neither pay for meat nor drink. - -_Tom._ What, Pady, do you think that you are to come alive again -when you are dead? - -_Pady._ O yes, we that are true Roman Catholicks we will live a -long time after we are dead; when we die in love with the priests, -and the good people of our profession. - -_Tom._ And what assurance can your priests give you of that? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, our priest is a great shaint, and a good -shoul, who can repeat a patter-noster, and Ave Maria, which will -fright the very horned devil himself and make him run for it, until -he be like to fall and break his neck. - -_Tom._ And what does he give you when you are dying that makes you -come alive again? - -_Pady._ Why he writes a letter upon our tongues, sealed with a -wafer, gives us a sacrament in our mouth, with a pardon, and -direction in our right-hand, who to call for at the ports of -Purgatory? - -_Tom._ And to whom do they direct the dead? - -_Pady._ Why the English Romans when they die are all directed to -shaint George, the Scots to shaint Andrew, the Welch to shaint -David, and our own dear countrymen must every shoul of them go to -shaint Patrick, but them that have no money to pay the priest for -a pardon, or those that are drown’d or die by themselves in the -fields without a priest, is lost, and sent away as black-guard -scoundrels, to wander up and down while the world stands, among the -brownies, fairies, mermaids, sea-devils, and water kelpies. - -_Tom._ And what money design you to give the priests for your -pardon? - -_Pady._ Dear shoy, I wish I had first the money he would take for -it, I would rather drink it myself, and then give him both my bill -and my honest word, payable in the other world. - -_Tom._ And how then are you to get a passage to the other world, or -who is to carry you there? - -_Pady._ O my dear shoy, Tom, you know nothing of the matter; for, -when I die, they will bury my body, flesh, blood, dirt and bones, -only my skin will be blown up full of wind and spirit, my dear -shoul I mean; and then I will be blown over to the other world, -on the wings of the wind; and after that I shall never be kill’d -hang’d nor drowned, nor yet die in my bed, for when any hits me a -blow, my new body will play buff upon it like a bladder. - -_Tom._ But what way will you go to the new world, or where is it? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, the priest knows where it is, but I do -not, but the Pope of Rome keeps the outer-port, shaint Patrick the -inner-port, and gives us a direction of the way to shaint Patrick’s -palace, which stands on the head of the Stalian-loch, where I’ll -have no more to do but chap at the gate. - -_Tom._ What is the need for chapping at the gate, is it not always -open? - -_Pady._ Dear Shoy, you know little about it, for there is none can -enter in but red-hot Irishmen, for when I call, “Allelieu, dear -honey, shaint Patrick countenance your own dear countryman if you -will.” Then the gates will be opened directly to me, for he knows -and loves an Irishman’s voice, as he loves his own heart. - -_Tom._ And what entertainment will you get when you are in? - -_Pady._ O my dear, we are all kept there until a general review, -which is commonly once in the week; and then we are drawn up, like -as many young recruits, and all the black-guard scoundrels is -pickt out of the ranks, and one half of them is sent away to the -Elysian fields, to curry the weeds from among the potatoes, the -other half of them to the river Sticks, to catch fishes for shaint -Patrick’s table; and all them that is owing the priests any money, -is put in the black hole, and then given into the hands of a great -black bitch of a devil which they keep for a hangman, who whips -them up and down the smoaky dungeon every morning for six months, -then holds their bare back-side to a great fire, until their hips -be all in one blister, and after all, they are sent away to the -poor parish of Pig-trantum, where they get nothing to eat but cold -sowens, burgue, and butter-milk. - -_Tom._ And where does your good people go when they are separated -from the bad? - -_Pady._ And where would you have them to go, but unto shaint -Patrick’s palace, and then they may go down the back stairs into -the garden of Eden, now called Paradise: ah! my dear shoy, this -is the real fundamental truths of our Romish Religion, and a deep -doctrine it is, but your Presbyterians and English churchmen will -not believe it, and, by shaint Patrick, neither can I, until I see -more of it come to pass. - -_Tom._ And what manner of life does your priest ordain you to live -in the world to come? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, if I had money enough to buy pardons from -our priest, I might commit all the lies forbidden in the holy -books, as he gives them a toleration to lie and cheat all the -world, but those of our own profession. - -_Tom._ What, Pady, are you not to do as much justice to a -Protestant as a Papist? - -_Pady._ O my dear shoy, the most justice we are commanded to do -to a Protestant, is to whip and torment them until they confess -themselves in the Romish Faith, and then cut their throats that -they may die believers. - -_Tom._ What business do you follow after at present? - -_Pady._ Arra, dear shoy, I am a mountain sailor, and my -supplication is as follows, - - -PADY’S HUMBLE PETITION, OR SUPPLICATION. - -Good Christian people behold me a man! who has com’d thro’ a -world of wonders, a hell full of hardships, dangers by sea, and -dangers by land, and yet I am alive, you may see my hand crooked -like a fowl’s foot, and that is no wonder at all, considering my -sufferings and sorrows: Oh! oh! oh! good people I was a man in my -time who had plenty of the gold, plenty of the silver, plenty of -the clothes, plenty of the butter, the beer, beef, and bisket. And -now, now I have nothing: being taken by the Turks and relieved -by the Spaniards, lay sixty-six days at the siege of Gibraltar, -and got nothing to eat but sea wreck and raw mussels; then put to -sea for our safety, cast upon the Barbarian coast among the woful -wicked Algerines, where we were taken, and tied with tugs and -tadders, horse-locks and cow-chains: then cut and custrate yard -and testicles quite away, if you will not believe, put in your hand -and feel how every female’s made smooth by the sheer-bone, where -nothing is to be seen but what is natural. Then made our escape -to the desert wild wilderness of Arabia: where we lived amongst -the wild asses, upon wind, sand, and sapless ling. Afterwards put -to sea in the hull of an old house; where we was tossed above -and below the clouds, being driven thro’ thickets and groves by -fierce, coarse, calm and contrary winds; at last, was cast away -upon Salisbury plains, where our vessel was dash’d to pieces -against a cabbage-stock. And now my humble petition to you good -Christian people is, for one hundred of your beef, one hundred -of your butter, another of your cheese, a cask of your bisket, a -tun of your beer, a keg of your rum, with a pipe of your wine, a -lump of your gold, a piece of your silver, a few of your halfpence -or farthings, a waught of your butter-milk, a pair of your old -breeches, stockings, or shoes, even a chaw of tobacco for charity’s -sake. - - -A CREED FOR ROMISH BELIEVERS. - -I believe the Pope of Rome, to be the right heir and true successor -of Peter the Apostle, and that he has a power above all the -kings of the world, being spiritual and temporal; endowed with a -communication from beyond the grave, and can bring up any departed -shoul[169] he pleases, even as the woman of Endor brought up Samuel -to Saul, by the same power he can, assisted by the enchantments -of old Manasseh, a king in Israel. I believe also in the Romish -priests that they are very civil chaste gentlemen, keep no wives -of their own, but partake a little of other men’s, when in secret -confession. I acknowledge the worshipping of images and relicks of -shaints departed to be very just; but if they hear us and not help -us, O they are but a parcel of ungrateful wretches. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES._ - - - [‘The Comical History of Simple John, and his Twelve Misfortunes; - which happened all in twelve Days after the unhappy Day of his - Marriage. Giving a particular account of his Courtship and - Marriage to a Scolding Wife; which has been a mortifying Misery - to many a poor Man. - - O Sirs will you see, - What it is to married be! - - Glasgow: Printed for the Company of Flying Stationers, in Town - and country. MDCCLXXX.’ Such is the full title of the edition - here used. It has been with the following editions:--‘Edinburgh: - printed for the booksellers, 1823’; and ‘Stirling: printed by - William Macnie, and sold wholesale and retail, 1823’; and also - with the modern Glasgow one.] - - - - -THE COMICAL HISTORY OF SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES. - - -Simple John was a widow’s son, and a coarse country weaver to his -trade; he made nothing but such as canvas for caff-beds, corn and -coal-sacks, druggit and harn was the finest webs he could lay his -fingers to; he was a great lump of a lang lean lad, aboon sax -fit high afore he was aughteen year auld, and as he said himsel -he grew sae fast and was in sic a hurry to be high, that he did -not stay to bring a’ his judgment wi’ him, but yet he hoped it -would follow him, and he would meet wi’t as mony a are does after -they’re married; he had but ae sister, and she had as little sense -as himsel, she was married on Sleeky Willy, the wylie weaver, his -mither was a rattling rattle-scul’d wife, and they lived a’ in ae -house, and every body held them as a family of fools. When John -came to man’s state, to the age of twenty-one years, he tell’d his -mither he would hae a wife o’ some sort, either young or auld, -widow or lass, if they had but head and hips, tongue and tail, he -shou’d tak them, and weel I wat mither, quoth he, they’ll get a -lumping penny-worth o’ me, get me wha will. - -His mither tells him o’ the black butcher on Ti’ot-side, who had -three dochters, and every ane of them had something, there was -Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had hunder merks the piece, Kate and Ann had -both bastards. Girzy the eldest had a hump back, a high breast, -baker legs, a short wry neck, thrawn mouth, and goggle ey’d, a -perfect Æsop of the female kind, with as many crooked conditions -within as without, a very lump of loun-like ill nature, row’d a’ -together, as if she had been nine months in a haggies, a second -edition of crooked backed Richard an old English king, that was -born wi’ teeth to bite a’ round about him; and yet the wight gaed -mad to be married. - -John’s mother tell’d him the road where to go, and what to say, -and accordingly he sets out wi’ his sunday’s coat on, and a’ his -braws, and a pair o’ new pillonian breeks o’ his mither’s making. -In he comes and tell’d his errand before he would sit down, says -good day to you goodman, what are you a’ doing here? I am wanting -a wife, an’ ye’re a flesher and has a gude sorting aside you, my -mither says ye can sair me or ony body like me, what say ye till’t -goodman, how mony dochters hae ye? are they a’ married yet? I fain -wou’d tak a look o’ some o’ them gin ye like. - -A wow said the goodwife come in by honest lad and rest you, an ye -be a wooer sit down an gi’s a snuff; a deed goodwife I hae nae mill -but my mither’s, and it’s at hame. A whar win ye, I’se no ken ye; -I wat quoth he, my name’s Jock Sandeman, they ca’ me simple John -the sack weaver, I hae nae tocher but my loom, a pirn wheel, a -kettle pat, a brass pan, twa piggs, four cogs and a candlestick, a -good cock, a cat, two eerocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is -married on sleeky Willie the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a hagwife -or my mither die, for truly she’s very frail, and ony harle o’ -health she has is about dinner-time; what say ye till’t, goodman? -can ye buckle me or no? - -Goodman. A dear John ye’re in an unco haste, ye wadna hae you’re -wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a’ there before ye, which o’ them will ye -tak? - -Hout tout says John, ony o’ them ’ill sare me, but my mither says -there’s twa o’ them has fauts: and what is their fauts said the -goodwife, hout said John, it’s no meikle faut, but I dinna like it, -they got men or they were married. And what shall I do wi’ them -said the goodman. - -John. A deed goodman as ye’re ay dealing among dead beasts and -living beasts, I wad put them awa amang ither beasts, or gin ye be -aun ony penny, let some body tak them up o’ desperate debt, I sud -flay the sikes frae them, they anger’d you an’ sham’d you baith wi’ -their bastards, a wheen daft jades it gets men or they be married, -and bairns or they get bridals. - -Goodwife. A wat weel that’s true lad. - -Girzy. A weel John than, will ye tak me, I hae nae bastards, how -will you and I do? - -John. I watna gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some -war faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth for ye’re unco little, and -I’m o’er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance cairded thro’ ither, we -may get bonny weans o’ a midlen mak; I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye -hae a high breast, a hump back, a short neck, and high shoulders, -the hands and legs may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee bit to the tae -side it will ly well to the rock and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, -will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my sonsy dauty up -and down; a perfect beauty, wi’ cats yellow een, black brows and -red lips, and your very nose is a purpey colour, ye hae nae fauts -at a’: now whan will we be married. - -Girzy. Ha, ha, John lad, we maun think on that yet. - -John. What the yeltow lass, shoudna ye be ready whan I’m ready, and -every body says that the women’s aye ready. - -Goodman. Ye’ll hae to come back and bring somebody wi’ you, and -we’ll gree about it, and set the day whan ye’ll be married. - -John. A well goodman I’ll tell my mither o’t, and come back on -munonday, and we’ll hae a chappin o’ ale and roasted cheese on the -gude chance o’t, but I maun hae a word o’ the bride outby to convoy -me, an a quiet speak to hersel about it. - -Good wife. A wow na John, the daft louns will laugh at you, and -she’ll think shame, gang ye out by and she’ll speak to you thro’ -the gavel window. - -Out goes John, and the bride and her twa sisters goes to the window -within to hear the diversion, and what he would say; now says John, -Girzy my dear, my braw pretty woman, an ye be in earnest tell me, -for by my suthe I’m no scorning. - -Girzy. Indeed John I’m very willing to tak you, but ye need na tell -every body about it. - -John. Then gi’ me a kiss on that? He shutes his head in at the -window, making a lang neck to win down to her, and she stood on a -little stool to win up to him, O cries he, an ye were good flesh I -could eat you a’ I like you sae well, it’s a pity there is sic a -hard wa’ a ’tween us, I’se tell my mither sae bonny as ye’re: O gi’ -me anither kiss yet an then I’ll go; one of her sisters standing -by in a dark corner, get’s ha’d of a cow’s head which wanted a’ the -skin but about the mouth, and shutes it towards his mouth, which -he kiss’d in the dark, O cry’d he, but your mouth be cauld since I -kiss’d ye last, and I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that afore, -or is’t wi’ spinning tow that maks your mouth sae rough at e’en? - -Hame he comes, and tells his mither the speed and properties of -the marriage; a’ things was got ready, and next week sleeky Willy -the weaver and him came to gree the marriage and stay a’ night wi’ -the bride, and teach John gude manners, for whan John was hungry -he minded his meat more than his gude behaviour, and as he never -was fu’ till the dish was tume, Willy the weaver was to tramp on -his fit when he thought he had supped enough; so all things being -agreed upon short and easy terms and the wedding day sett, they -were to be three times cry’d on Sunday and quietly married on -Munonday, neither piper nor fidler to be employ’d, but sweith awa’ -hame frae the minister, and into the bed amang the blankets, ha, -ha, cries John, that’s the best o’t a’. - -Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper was -brought, a large fat haggies, the very smell would done a hungry -body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups until are of -the butcher’s meikle dogs tramped on John’s fit, which he took to -be the weaver, and then he would sip no more; after supper they -went to bed, John and the weaver lay together, and then he abused -the weaver for tramping sae soon which he denied; but O, said John, -there’s a hantle o’t left, and I saw where it was set, they’re a’ -sleeping, I’ll go rise and tak a soup o’t yet, ay een do sae said -Sleeky Willy, and bring a soup to me too; away then John goes to -the amry and lays to the haggies, till his ain haggies cou’d had -nae mair, then brings the rest to Sleeky Willy, but instead of -going to the bed whare he was, goes to the bed whare the bride and -her twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks slowly, will ye -tak it, will ye tak it, but they making no answers, he turns up the -blankets to put a soup into Willy’s mouth, but instead of doing so, -he puts a great spoonful close into one of their backsides, Sleeky -Willy hears all that past, comes out o’ the bed, and sups out the -remainders, and sets up the dish whare it was, leaves the amry door -open to let the cats get the blame of supping the haggies, and awa’ -they goes to bed, but poor John cou’d get nae sleep for drouth, up -he gets in search of the water can, and finding an empty pitcher, -puts in his hand to find if there was any water in it, but finding -none, he closed his hand when it was within the pitcher, and then -could not get it out, goes to the bed and tells Sleeky Willy what -had happened him, who advised him to open the door and go out to a -knocking-stane that stood before the door, and break it there to -get out his hand, and not to mak a noise in the house, so out he -goes, but the bride’s sister who had gotten the great spoonful of -the haggies laid to her backside was out before him, rubbing the -nastiness (as she took it to be) off the tail of her sark, and she -being in a louting posture, he took her for the knocking-stane, and -comes o’er her hurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces -about her, then off she runs wi’ the fright, round a turf stack and -into the house before him; John comes in trembling to the bed again -wi’ the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic a knocking stane -he never saw, for it ran clean awa’ when he brake the pigg upon it. - -Now John was furnished in a house by his Father-in-law, the -bed, loom, heddles, treadles, thrums, reeds and pirn-wheel was -a’ brought and set up, before the marriage, which was kept as a -profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain wife, -and his ain house a’ at ae time: So on the next morning after the -marriage, John and his wife made up some articles, how they were -to work, and keep house, John was to keep the house in meat, meal, -fire, and water; Girzy was to mak the meat and keep the house in -clothes, the Father-in-law to pay their rent for three years, they -were to hae no servants, until they had children, and the first -child was to be a John after its ain Daddy, get it wha will, if a -boy, and if a girl, Girzy after its ain Minny, as he said, wha had -wrought best for’t.[170] - -I. Then she ordered John to rise and begin his work, by putting on -a fire, and take the twa new piggs and gang to the well, no sooner -had John opened the door, and gone out with a pigg in every hand, -than a’ the boys and girls being gathered in a croud to see him, -gave a loud huzza, and clapping their hands at him, poor John not -knowing what it meant, thought it was fine sport, began to clap his -hands too, and not minding the two piggs, clashes the tane against -the tither, till baith went in pieces, and that was a chearful -huzza, to baith young and auld that was looking at him. Girzel the -wife draws him into the house, and to him she flies with the wicked -wife’s wapons, her Tongue and Tangs, made his ribbs to crack, -saying, They tell’d me ye was daft, but I’ll ding the daffing out -o’ ye, I’ll begin wi’ ye as I’m amind to end wi’ ye; poor John sat -crying and clawing his lugs. Ha, ha, said he, its nae bairns play -to be married, I find that already; his Mither-in-law came in and -made up peace, went to a cooper, and got them a big wooden stoup to -carry in their water. - -II. Next morning John was sent to the flesh-market an errand to -his Father-in-law, who gave him a piece of flesh to carry home, -and as he was coming out of the market, he saw six or seven of -the fleshers-dogs fall on and worry at a poor country colley -dog, Justice, justice, cries John to the dogs, ye’re but a wheen -unmannerly raskel’s, that fa’s a on ae poor beast, heth ye sude a’ -be put in the toubooth, and tane to the bailies, and hang’d for the -like o’ that, it’s perfect murder, and in he runs amongst the dogs, -and be hang’d to you a’ the-gither, What is the quarrel? What is -the quarrel? John flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips -the colley, who took John for an enemy too, and bites his hands, -till the blood followed, the whole of the tykes comes on a poor -John, till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one -of the dogs runs off with his flesh, so John went hame both dirty -and bloody without his flesh, tell’d Girzy how it happened, who -applied her old plaister, her tangs and tongue, made John to curse -the very minister that married them, and wished he might never do a -better turn. - -III. Next morning, John was sent to the well with the great stoup -to bring in water for breakfast, and as he was pulling the stoup -out of the well, in he tumbles, and his head down, the well being -narrow, he you’d na win out, some people passing, by chance heard -the slunge, cried, and runs to his relief, hail’d him out half -dead, and helped him into the house, and after getting a dry sark, -he was comforted with the old plaister, her tongue and the hard -tangs. - -IV. Next day, she says, John, I must go to the market myself, for -if you go, you’ll fight wi’ the dogs, and let them run awa’ wi’ ony -thing ye buy, see that ye put on the pot, and hae’t boiling again -I come hame; John promised well, but performs very badly, she’s no -sooner gone, than he puts on the new pot without any water in it, -and a good fire to make it boil, and away he goes to the unhappy -well, fills his stoup and sets it down, to look at a parcel of boys -playing at Cat and Dog, they perswades John to take a game wi’ -them, on he plays till are o’ the boys cries, hy John, yonder’s -your Girzy coming. John runs into the house wi’ the water, and the -pot being red hot on the fire, he tumes in the cold water into it, -which made the pot flee all in pieces, just as she was entering the -door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying, haud the -thief, some persons stop’d him, she comes up, and then she laboured -him all the way home, and he crying, O sirs, ye see what it is to -be married; the Mither-in-law had to make up a peace again, and he -promised good behaviour in time to come. - -V. On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash some cows -puddings, and turn them on a spindle, showing him how he was to do -or he went away; John goes to the water very willingly, and as he -turn’d and wash’d them, he laid them down behind him, where one of -his Father-in-law’s big dogs stood, and ate them up as fast as he -laid them down till all was gone but the very last one, which he -carried home in his hand, crying like a child, and underwent a -severe tost of the old plaister, before any mercy was shown. - -VI. His Father-in-law next day sent him away to bring home a fat -calf he had bought in the country, and tied up the money in a -napkin, which he carried in his hand for fear he should lose it, -being very weighty as it was all in halfpence, and as he was going -alongst a bridge, he meets a man running after a horse, who cries -to John to stop the horse, John meets him on the top of the bridge, -and when he wou’d not be stopped for him, he knocks the horse on -the face wi’ the napkin and the money, so the napkin broke and most -of the half-pence flew over the bridge in the water, which made -poor John go home crying very bitterly for his loss, and dread of -the auld plaister which he got very sickerly. - -VII. On the next morning, she sent him again to the bridge to see -if he you’d find any of it in the water, and there he found some -ducks sweeming, and ducking down with their heads below the water, -as he thought gathering up his money he kills one of them and rips -her up, but found none of it in her guts or gabbie, then says he, -they have been but looking for it, I’ll go do as they did, strips -off his clothes and leaves them on the bridge, goes in a ducking, -in which time a rag man came past and took away all his clothes, so -he went home naked to get a bath of the old plaister. - -VIII. The next morning she sent him to a farm house for a piggful -of butter milk, and as he was returning through the fields the -farmer’s bull and anither bull was fighting, the farmer’s bull -being like to lose, John runs in behind him and sets his head to -the bull’s tail, in purpose to help him to push against the other, -but the poor bull thought John was some other bull attacking him -behind, fled aside, and the other bull came full-drive upon John, -pushed him down, broke the pigg and spilt the milk, so John went -home to his auld plaister, which began to be an usual diet to him, -and so he regarded it the less. - -IX. His Mother-in-law with several auld witty wives held a private -counsel on John’s conduct and bad luck, and concluded he was -bewitched, John was of the same opinion, and went to the minister, -and told him he was the cause of a’ his misfortunes, ca’d him a -warlock to his face, and said, he had put such a black bargain in -his hand, that he was ruin’d for ever; insisted either to unmarry -them again, or send death and the bell-man to take her awa’, for -she has a lump of mischief on her back and anither on her breast, -and the rest of her body is a clean deil. The minister began to -exhort him to peace and patience, telling him that marriage was -made in heaven: ye’re a baist liar, says John, for I was married in -your ain kitchen, an a’ the blackguards about the town was there, -an it had a-been heaven they wadna win in, yet tell’t me that -matrimony was sic a happy state, but an ye had gotten as mony we’ll -paid skins as I hae gotten, ye wad ken what it is; ill chance on -you stir, and out he goes, cursing like a madman, throwing stanes, -and breaking the minister’s windows, for which he was catch’d and -put twa hours i’ the stocks, and at last his Lump of Corruption -came and rubbed his lugs, threw his nose, got him out, and drove -him home before her; took a resolution never to set him about any -bisiness in time coming, but keep him on his loom. - -X. Now she giving him no sleep a’ that night for scolding; John got -up in the morning lang or day, leaving his tormentor in bed; fell -asleep upon his loom with his candle in his hand, and so set the -web, heddles, reed, and treadle cords in a fire, by chance his old -Viper looked out of the bed, or the whole house had been gone; up -she got, and with her cries alarm’d the neighbourhood who came to -her relief, but poor John underwent a dreadful swabing for this. - -XI. After the former hurry and beating being over, his work being -stopt, he went to bed and sleept a’ that day, and following night, -on the next day having nothing to do; she sent him in search of a -hen’s-nest, who had taken some by-place to lay her eggs in, so as -poor John was in an auld kill searching a’ about the walls, the -kill-ribs brake, and down he goes with a vengeance into the logie -cutted and bruised himself in a terrible manner, up he could not -win, but had to creep out at the logie below, scarcely able to get -hame, his face and nose a’ running o’ blood, in this condition she -pitied and lamented for him very much, tied his sores and laid him -in bed, then sat down very kindly, saying, My dear and my lamb, do -ye think there is ony o’ your banes broken, and what part o’ you is -sairest? And what will I get to do you good? O! said he Girzy I’m -a brizel’d atween the feet; Are ye indeed quoth she, then I wish -ye had broken your neck, that I might a gotten anither, useless ae -way, and useless mae ways, a po’ my word, ye’s no be here, gang -whar ye like. - -XII. Now, as poor John was turn’d out o’ doors next morning, to -go awa’ hirpling on a staff, one came and told him his Mother had -died last night, Oh hoch, said John, and is my Mither clean dead; -O an she wad but look down thro’ the lift, and see how I’m guided -this morning, I’m sure she wad send death for me too: I’m out o’ a -mither, and out o’ a wife, out o’ my health and strength and a’ my -warklooms. His mother-in-law came and pleaded for him: haud your -tongue, mither, said Girzy, if ye kend what ail’d him, ye wadna -speak about him, he’s useless, no worth the keeping in a house, but -to ca’ him to die like an auld beast at a dyke-side, hout tout, co’ -the auld wife, we’ll mak o’ him and he’ll mend again: so John got -peace made up after a’, and he was easier mended than the burnt -web; got all his treadles and warklooms set in order the wife’s -tongue excepted, which was made of wormwood, and the rest of her -body of sea-water, which is always in a continual tempest. - - * * * * * - -So John appeals to a Jedburgh jury, if it be not easier to deal -wi’ fools, than headstrong fashous fouks; owns he has but an empty -scull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment into it, -never tells him o’ danger till it come upon him, for his mother -said, he was a bidable bairn, if ony body had been to learn him wit. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE ANCIENT AND MODERN HISTORY OF BUCK-HAVEN._ - - - [This is one of the most valuable folk-lore chap-books ever - issued from the press. Its richness in this respect has attracted - the attention of Professor Stephens of Copenhagen, who gave - some quotations from it in the second volume of _The Folk-Lore - Record_. The edition used here is from the library of Alexander - Macdonald, Esq., and bears the following on the title-page:--‘The - Ancient and Modern History of Buck-haven in Fife-shire. Wherein - is contained, The Antiquities of their old Dress. The Bucky-boat, - with a flag of a green tree; with their dancing, Willy and his - trusty rapper. Their Burgess Ticket, with a view of their new - College: the noted sayings and exploits of Wise Willy in the - Brae, Witty Eppie the ale-wife, and Lingle-tail’d Nancy. By Merry - Andrew at Tamtallon. Glasgow, Printed by J. and M. Robertson, - Saltmarket, 1806.’ It is a 24 pp. 12mo, and is illustrated by - several rough woodcuts which had apparently done service in - other chap-books. The editor has carefully collated it with the - following editions:--One, undated, by Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh; - another, also without date, by Morren, but a different issue - from the other, there being a change in the illustrations; - one published in 1817 by R. Hutchison & Co., 10 Saltmarket, - Glasgow; and an abridged one by M. Randall, Stirling (without - date), with this short title--‘The Exploits of Wise Willie, and - Witty Eppie the Ale-Wife of Buchaven.’ The three editions last - mentioned, were courteously sent to the editor, all the way from - Copenhagen, by Professor Stephens. There is also a modern Glasgow - edition, greatly abridged, the text, as issued by Randall, having - evidently been used by its publishers.] - - - - -THE HISTORY OF BUCK-HAVEN. - - -Amongst several ancient records, this Bucky is not mentioned; there -was a set called Buccaniers, who were pirates, that is to say -sea-robbers, and after a strict search for that set of sea-robbers, -they dispersed; what of them escaped justice in the southern -climate, are said to have sheltered at or near Berwick upon Tweed. -After a smart battle, among themselves, they divided, and ’tis -said, the party who gained this Bucky-battle, fearing the English -law to take place, set northward and took up their residence at -this Buck-haven, so called not only from the great quantity of -Buckies that are found in and about that place, but on account of -the battle they had with their neighbours at Berwick when they -divided, which was then called bucking one another, but is now -named boxing or fighting. Another party of these Buckers settled -in another town northward of Banff, called Bucky, near the river -Spey, which is a large sea-town, but among all the sea-towns in -Scotland, the fishers still retain a language, quite different from -the people in the country, and they almost all shift the letter H, -and use O, instead thereof which no country-people do in Scotland, -but themselves.[171] There is a corruption of speech, in every -county over all Britain, and likewise they use different tones and -pronouncing words from others, even some in the South of Scotland, -can hardly be understood by those in the North, though both pretend -to speak English, and have a liberal part of education: but since -learning is now so easy to be obtained, ignorance and corruption of -speech are greatly decreased.[172] - -In the county of Fife, on the sea-coast, there stands a little -town, inhabited by few but fishers, called Bucky-harbour, because -of the sea buckies and shells to be found so plenty on the rocks, -in and about that place; there is little mention made of this town -by historians, to know its original extraction and antiquities, but -in their own burges-ticket, which was part of it perfect truths, -but more of it by way of lampoon; this ticket was dated the two and -thirty day of the month of Julius Cæsar, their coat of arms was two -hands gripping each other over a Scate’s rumple, their oath was, “I -wish the de’il may tak me an I binna an honest man to you, an ye -binna de like to me.” An article of good neighbourhood they had, -whoever was first up in a good morning, was to raise all the rest -to go to sea, but if a bad morning, they piss and lie down again -till break of day then raise Wise Willy, who could judge of the -weather by the blowing of the wind. - -Their freedoms were to take all sorts of fish contained in their -tickets, viz., lobsters, partans, podles, spout-fish, sea-cats, -sea-dogs, flukes, pikes, dike-padocks, and p-- fish. - -Among these people were said to be one Tom and his two sons, who -were fishers on the coast of Norway, and in a violent storm were -blown over, and got ashore at Bucky-harbour, where they settled, -and the whole of his children were called Thomsons,[173] this is -a historical saying, handed down from one generation to another. -So in course of time they grew up and multiplied, that they soon -became a little town by themselves; few of any other name dwelt -among them, and were all called the Thomsons; they kept but little -communication with the country people, for a farmer in those days -thought his daughter cast awa, if she married one of the fishers of -Bucky-harbour,[174] and Witty Eppie the ale-wife, wad a sworn be-go -laddie, I wad rather see my boat and a’ my three sons dadet against -the Bass or I saw ony ane o’ them married on a muck-a-byre’s -daughter, a wheen useless taupies, that can do naething but rive -at a tow-rock, and cut corn; they can neither bait a hook nor red a -line, hook sandles nor gather periwinkles. - -Now Wise Willy and Witty Eppie the ale-wife lived there, about -an hundred years ago. Eppie’s chamber was their college and -court-house, where they decided their controversies, and explained -their wonders, for the house was wide like a little kirk, had four -windows and a gavel-door, the wives got leave to flyte their fill, -but fighting was forbidden, (as Eppie said, up hands was fair -play) their fines, were a’ in pints o’ ale, and Eppie sold it at a -plack the pint; they had neither minister nor magistrate, nor yet -a burly-bailie to brag them wi’ his tolbooth; my Lord was their -landlord,[175] Wise Willy and Witty Eppie the ale-wife were the -rulers of the town. - -Now Eppie had a daughter, call’d Lingle-tail’d Nancy, because -of her feckless growth, her waist was like a twitter, had nae -curpen for a creel, being Embruch bred, and brought up wi’ her -Lowdin aunty, was learned to read and sew, make corse-claiths and -callico-mutches,[176] there wasna scholar in the town but hersel, -she read the Bible and the book of Kirk-sangs which was newly come -in fashion, Willy and Eppie tell’d ay what it meant, and said a’ -the letters in it, was litted by my Lord, for they saw him hae a -feather that he dipped in black water, and made crooked scores just -like the same, and then he spoke to it o’er again, and it tell’d -him what to say. - -It happened on a day, that two of their wives found a horse-shoe -near the town, brought it hame, and sent for Wise Willy to see what -it was. Willy comes and looks at it, Indeed co’ Willy, its a thing -and holes in’t. Then said they, he would get a name til’t, aha, co’ -Willy, but whair did ye find it? aneath my Lords ain house, Willy. -Adeed, said Willy, its the auld moon, I ken by the holes in’t for -nailing it to the lift; but I wonder it she fell in Fife, for the -last time I saw her she was hinging on her back aboon Embruch, a -hech co’ Willy we’ll hae her set up on the highest house in the -town, and we’ll hae moon-light o’ our ain a’ the days o’ the year. -The whole town ran to see the moon; hout tout, cried Witty Eppie, -ye’re a’ fools together, it is but ane o’ the things it my Lord’s -mare wears upo’ her lufe.[177] - -At another time, one of the wives found a hare with its legs -broken, lying among her kail in the yard; she, not knowing what -it was, called out her neighbours to see it, some said it was a -gentleman’s cat, or my lady’s lap-dog, or a sheep’s young kitlen, -because it had saft horns; Na, na, cry’d Wise Willy, its ane o’ the -maukens, that gentlemen’s dogs worrie. What will you do wi’t? haith -co’ Maggy, I’ll singe the woo’ afi’t, and mak fish and sauce o’t to -my Tammy’s parrich: No, no, said Witty Eppie, better gie’t to my -Lord, and he’d stap an iron stick thro’ the guts o’t, and gar’t rin -round afore the fire till it be roasted; Na, na, said Wise Willy, -we’ll no do that indeed, for my Lord wad mak us a’ dogs, an gar us -rin thro’ the kintry seeking maukins till him. - -It happened on a dark winter morning, that two of the wives were -going to Dysart to sell their fish, and near the road-side there -happened to be a tinker’s ass tedder’d, and the poor ass seeing the -wives coming with their creels, thought it was the tinkers coming -to flit or remove him, fell a crying, the two wives threw their -fish away, and ran home like mad persons, crying, they had seen the -de’il, aye the very horned de’il, an that he had spoken to them, -and cried after them, but they did not ken what he said, for it was -worse words than a Highlandman’s. The whole town was in an uproar, -some would go with picks and spades and hag him a’ in pieces, -others wad gang and catch him in a strong net, and then they could -either hang or drown him. Na, na, co’ Wise Willy, we manna cast out -wi’ him at the first, as he’s gotten the twa burden o’ fish, he’ll -ables gang his wa’ and no fash nae mair, he is o’er souple to be -catch’d in a net, a’ your pith ’ill neither hang him nor drown him, -an’ the kintry he comes frae is a’ het coals, he’ll never burn, -we’ll go to him in a civil manner, and see what he wants: get out -Eppie the ale-wife, and lingle-tail’d Nancy, with the Bible and the -Saum-book:[178] so aff they came in a croud, either to kill the -de’il or catch him alive, and as they came near the place, the ass -fell a crying, which caused many of them to faint and run back: -Na, na, co’ Willy, that’s no the de’ils words ava’, it’s my Lord’s -trumpeter touting on his brass whistle, Willy ventured till he saw -the ass’s twa lugs, now, cried Willy back to the rest, come forward -and hand him fast, I see his twa horns, hech sirs, he has a white -beard like an auld beggar man, so they enclosed the poor ass on all -sides thinking it was the de’il: but when Wise Willy saw he had nae -cloven feet, he cried out, Fearna’ lads, this is no the de’il, it’s -some living beast, ’tis neither a cow nor a horse, and what is it -then Willy? Indeed co’ Willie, ’tis the father o’ a’ the maukens, I -ken by its lugs. - -Now some say, this is too satirical a history, but it is according -to the knowledge of those times, not to say in any place by -another, old wives tell us yet of many such stories, as the devil -appearing to their grandfathers and grandmothers, and dead wives -coming back again to visit their families, long after their being -buried: but this Bucky-haven which was once noted for droll -exploits, is now become more knowing, and is a place said to -produce the best and hardiest watermen or sailors of any town on -the Scots coast, yet many of the old people in it, still retain the -old tincture of their old and uncultivated speech, as be-go-laddie, -also a fiery nature, if you ask any of the wives where their -college stands, they’ll tell you, if your nose were in their arse, -your mouth would be at the door of it. - -Now, it happened, when Wise Willy turned old he took a great -swelling in his wame, and casting up o’ his kail, collops and -cauld fish, that nothing staid on his stomach, and a stout stomach -had he, for crab-heads, or scate-brose, or fat-brose on a bridal -morning; yet it fail’d him; he fell sick, and none could cure -him, or tell what ail’d him, till a mountebank stage-doctor came -to Kirkcaldy, that could judge by people’s water, the troubles of -their person, and Willy hearing of his fame, pissed into a bottle, -and sent it away with his daughter; the bottle being uncorked, -his daughter spilt it by the way, and to conceal her sloth in so -doing, pissed in it herself, and on she goes, till she comes to the -stage, and cries, Sir Dochter, Sir Dochter, here is a bottle o’ my -father’s wash, he has a sair guts, and never needs to drite ony, he -spues a’ he eats, ’tis true I tell you my dow; the doctor looks at -it, and says, It is not your father’s, surely it is your mother’s; -de’il’s i’ the man, co’ she, divna I ken my father by my mother? -Then, said he, he is with child: A de’il’s i’ the man co’ she, for -my mother bore a’ de bairns before, dat’s no true sir, a figs ye’re -a great liar, home she came, and tell’d Willy her father, that the -doctor said he was wi’ bairn. O waes me, co’ Willy, for I hae a -muckle wame, and I fear its o’er true, O plague on you Janet, for -ye’re the father o’t, and I’m sure to die in the bearing o’t. Witty -Eppie was sent for, as she was houdy, and fand a’ Willy’s wame, to -be sure about it, indeed co’ Eppie ye’re the first man e’er I saw -wi’ bairn before; and how ye’ll bear’t I dinna ken, ye hae a wally -wame, weel I wat, but how men bear bairns I never saw them yet, -but I would drink sa’t water and drown’t in my guts, for an men -get anes the gate o’ bearing weans themsells, they’ll seek nae mae -wives: so Willy drank sea-water till his guts was like to rive, and -out he goes to ease himself among the kail, and with the terrible -hurl of farting, up starts a mauken behind him, thinking she was -shot, Willy sees her jumping o’er the dike, thought it was a child -brought forth, cries, Come back my dear and be christened, and no -rin to the hills and be a Pagan,[179] so Willy grew better every -day thereafter, being brought to bed in the kail-yard: but his -daughter was brought to bed some months thereafter, which was the -cause of the doctor’s mistake. - - -PART II. - -Now Wise Willie had a daughter, called Rolloching Jenny, because -she spoke thick, sax words at three times, half sense and half -nonsense, as her own words and actions will bear witness. She being -with child, was brought to bed of a bonnie lass bairn: and a’ the -wives in the town, cried, Be-go-laddie, its just like its ain -daddy, lang Sandy Tason (or Thomson) we ken by its nose: for Sandy -had a great muckle red nose like a lobster-tae, bowed at the point -like a hawk’s neb, and Sandy himself said, that it was surely his -or some ither body’s, but he had used a’ his birr at the getting -o’t, to fey his ability, being the first time e’er he was at sic -a business before, and when he had done a’ that man could do at -it, said, it was nonsense and shamefa’ him, but he wad rather row -his boat round the Bass and back again, or he did the like again: -For Wise Willy gade wood at the wean, and said, it had mair ill -nature in’t, than the auldest wife about the town, it piss’d the -bed, and shute the bed, skirl’d like a wil-cat, and kept him frae -his night’s rest; and a’ the auld haggs about the town, ca’d him -Sandy de bairn’s daddy, and a’ the young gilly-gawkie lasses, held -out their fingers, and cried, Tie, hie, Sandy, the kirk will kittle -your hips for yon yet. - -And after a’, the blear-ein’d bell-man came bladdering about -the buttock-mail, summoned him and her before the hally-band, -a court that held in the kirk on Saturday morning; and a’ the -bred ladies[180] round about, cried, Ay, ay, Sandy, pay the -bill-siller, or we’ll cut the cow’s tail awa’, so poor Sandy -suffered sadly in the flesh, besides the penalty and kirk-penance. - -But Wise Willy had pity upon them, and gade wi’ them to the -kirk-court, what learned folks call the session, Jenny was first -called upon, and in she goes where all the hally-band were -conveened, elders and youngers, deacons, and dog-payers keeping the -door, the cankerdest Carles that could be gotten between Dysart and -Dubby-side, white heads and bald heads sitting wanting bonnets, wi’ -their white headed staves and hodden-grey jockey-coats about them. - -Mess John says, Come away Janet, we’re a’ waiting on you here. - -Min. Now Janet, where was this child gotten? you must tell plainly. - -Jan. A deed stir, it was gotten amang the black stanes, at the -cheek of the crab-holes. - -Mess John stares at her, not knowing the place but some of the -elders did; then said he, O Janet, but the de’il was busy with you -at that time. - -Jan. A by my fegs stir, that’s a great lie ye’re telling now, for -the de’il wasna thereabout, it I saw, nor nae body else, to bid us -do either ae thing or anither, we loo’d ither unco’ weel for a lang -time before that, and syne we tell’d ither, and agreed to marry -ither like ither honest fouk, than mightna we learn to do the thing -married fouk does, without the de’il helping us. - -Whisht, whisht, cried they, you should be scurged, fause loon quean -it thou is, ye’re speaking nonsense. - -Jan. The deil’s i’ the carles, for you and your minister is liars, -when ye say it de de’il was helping Sandy and me to get the bairn. - -Come, come, say they, pay down the kirk-dues, and come back to the -stool the morn, four pound, and a groat to the bell-man. - -Jan. The auld thief speed the dearth o’t stir, for less might sair -you and your bell-man baith, O but this be a hard warld indeed, -when poor honest fouk maun pay for making use o’ their ain a--, ye -misca’ ay the poor de’il a-hint his back, and gie him the wyte o’ -a’ de ill it’s done in the kintry, bastard barns and every thing, -and if it be sae as ye say, ye may thank de de’il for that gude -four pund and de groat I hae gi’en you, that gars your pots boil -brown, and get jockey-coats, and purl-handed sarks and white-headed -staves, when my father’s pot wallops up rough bear and blue water. - -The woman’s mad, said they, for this money is a’ given to the poor -of the parish. - -Jan. The poor of the parish, said she, and that’s the way o’t, a -fint hate ye gie them but wee pickles o’ pease-meal, didna I see’t -in their pocks, and the minister’s wife gie’s naething ava to unco -beggars, but bids them gang hame to their ain parish, and yet ye’ll -tak de purse frae poor fouks, for naething but playing the loun -awee or they be married, and syne cocks them up to be looked on and -laught at by every body, a de’il speed you and your justice stir; -hute, tute, ye are a coming on me like a wheen colly dogs, hunting -awa’ a poor ragget chapman frae the door, and out she comes cursing -and greeting: Sandy’s next called upon, and in he goes. - -Min. Now Saunders, you maun tell us how this child was gotten? - -San. A wow, Mess John stir, you hae bairns o’ your ain, how did you -get them? but yours is a’ laddies, and mine is but a lassie, if -you’ll tell me how ye got your laddie, I’ll tell you how I got my -lassie, and then we’ll be baith alike good o’ the business. - -The minister looks at him, hute, tute, Saunders, lay down four -pund and a groat, and come back to-morrow to the stool, and give -satisfaction to the congregation, you had more need to be seeking -repentance for that abominable sin of uncleanness, than speaking so -to me. - -San. Then there is your siller stir, I hae gotten but poor -penny-worths for’t, and ye’ll tell me to repent for’t, what the -auld thief needs I repent, when I’m gaun to marry de woman, and -then I’ll hae to do’t o’er again every day, or they’ll be nae peace -in the house; figs it’s nonsense to pay siller, repent, and do’t -again too, a fine advice indeed master minister, and that is how ye -live. - -Wise Willy. Now stir, you and master elders, ye manna put them on -the black creepy till they be married; they suffered enough at ae -time. - -A well, a well, said they, but they must marry very soon then. - -I trow sae says Sandy, ye’ll be wanting mair siller, fule hate -ye’ll do for naething here. - -Hame came Sandy, starving o’ hunger, ye might a casten a knot -on his lang guts, his mither was baking pease bannocks, up he -gets a lump of her leaven into his mouth, auld thief be in your -haggies-bag, Sandy, kirk-fouks is ay greedy, ye been wi’ the -minister the day, ye’d get a good lang grace, he might a gi’en you -meat thou filthy dog that tu is, thou hast the bulk of a little -whalpie o’ my leaven in your guts, it wada been four good bannocks -and a scone, and a sair’d our Sunday’s dinner, sae wad it een, but -an ye keep a reeking house and a rocking cradle three eleven years -as I hae done, less o’ that will sair ye yet, baggity beast it tu -is, mair it I bore thee now, a hear ye that my dow. - -The next exploit was an action at law, against the goodman of -Muir-edge, a farmer who lived near by, that kept sheep and swine, -his sheep came down and broke into their yards and ate up their -kail; the wild hares, they thought, belonged to the same man, as -they ran towards his house when they were hunted; the swine came -very often in and about their houses, seeking fish guts and ony -thing they cou’d get, so it happened that one of their children, -sitting easing itself, one of the swine tumbles it over, and bites -a piece out of the child’s backside: The whole town rose in an -uproar, and after Grunkie, as they called her, they catched her -and took her before Wise Willy: Willy takes an ax and cuts two or -three inches off her long nose, now says Willy, I trow I have made -thee something Christian-like, thou had sic a long mouth and nose -before, it wad a frighted a very de’il to look at ye; but now your -fac’d like a little horse or cow: the poor sow ran home roaring all -blood and wanting the nose, which caused Muir-edge to warn them in -before my Lord: so the wives that had their kail eaten, appeared -first in the court, complaining against Muir-edge. Indeed, my Lord, -Muir-edge is no a good man, when he’s sick an ill neighbour, he -keeps black hares and white hares, little wee brown backed hares -wi’ white arses, and loose wagging horns, de muckle anes loups o’er -the dyke and eats a de kail, and de little anes wi’ de wagging -horns, creeps in at our water gush-holes, and does the like, when -we cry pisue, they ran awa’ hame to Muir-edge, but I’ll gar my -colly hand ’em by the fit, and I’ll hand ’em by the horn, an pu’ a’ -de hair aff ’em, and send ’em hame wanting the skin, as he did wi’ -Sowen Tammy’s wi’ Sandy, for codding o’ his pease, he took aff de -poor laddies coat, a sae did he e’en. - -A well then, said my Lord, what do you say, but call in Wise Willy. - -In he comes, A well my Lord, I shall suppose an ye were a sow, and -me sitting d----g, and you to bite my arse, sudna I tak amends o’ -you for that? Od my Lord, ye wadna hae sic a bit out o’ your arse -for twenty merks, ye maun just gar Muir-edge gie ten merks to buy a -plaister to heal the poor bit wean’s arse again. Well said, Willy, -says my Lord, but who puts on the sow’s nose again? A figs my lord, -said Willy, she’s honester-like wanting it, and she’ll bite nae -mair arses wi’t, and gin ye had hane a nose, my Lord, as lang as -the sow had, ye’d been obliged to ony body it wad cut a piece aft. - -A gentleman coming past near their town, asked one of their wives -where their college stood, said she, Give me a shilling, and I’ll -let you see both sides o’t, he gives her a shilling, thinking to -see some curious sight, now there’s one side of your shilling and -there’s the other, and ’tis mine now. - - -PART III.[181] - -Now Wise Willy was so admired for his just judgement in cutting -off the sow’s nose, that my Lord in a mocking manner, made him -burly-bailie[182] of Bucky-hine. Lang Sandy was provost, and John -Thrums, the weaver, was dean of guild, but Witty Eppie had ay the -casting vote in a’ their courts and controverses. - -There happened one day a running horse to stand at one of their -doors, and a child going about, the horse trampled on the child’s -foot, which caused the poor child to cry, the mother came running -in a passion; crying, A wae be to you for a ’orse it ere ye was -born o’ a woman, filthy barbarian bruit it t’ou is, setting your -muckle iron lufe on my bairn’s wee fittie, od stir, I’ll drive the -hair out o’ your head, gripping the horse by the mane and the twa -lugs, cuffing his chafts as if he had been her fellow creature, -crying, Be-go-laddie, I’ll gar you as good, I’ll tak you before -Wise Willy the bailie, and he will cut aff wi’ de iron lufe, and -dan you will be cripple, and gang thro’ the kintry on a barrow, -or on twa shule-staffs[183] like Rab the Randy, an a meal-pock -about your neck; Her neighbour wife hearing and seeing what past, -cried, A ye fool taupy, what gars you say that a ’orse was born o’ -a woman, do you think dat a ’orse has a fadder or a midder like -you or me, or ony ither body about; a what way do they come to the -world dan? A ye fool taupy, divna they whalp like the louses, ae -auld ’orse hobbles on anither anes back, and dat whalps a young -’orse: Gosh woman, it wad be ill-far’d to see a woman sitting wi’ a -young ’orse on her knee, dighting its arse, and gien it de pap. - -The next occasion was Lang Sandy, and Rolloching Jenny’s wedding; -which held three days and twa nights, my Lord and my Lady, with -several gentlemen and ladies, attended for diversion’s sake,[184] -the piper of Kirkcaldy and the fidler of Kinghorn, were both -bidden by Wise Willy the bride’s father, and if ony mae came to -play unbidden, Wise Willy swore they should sit unsair’d, for -these twa should get a’ the siller that was to be gien or won that -day, the dinner and dorder-meat sat a’ in Eppie’s college, and the -dancing stood in twa rings before the door, and the first day with -dunting and dangling of their heels, dang doun the sea-dyke, some -tumbled in and some held by the stanes, the fidler fell o’er the -lugs an drouket a’ his fiddle, the strings gade out of order, and -the tripes turned saft like pudding skins, so the bagpipe had to -do for a’, and the fidler got nought to do but sup kail, and pike -banes wi the rest o’ them. - -Now my Lord’s cook was to order the kettle, but Pate o’ the -Pans[185] play’d a sad prat, by casting in twa pounds of candle -among the kail, which made them fat, for some could not sup them, -for the candle wicks came ay into their cutties like sutter’s -lingles in the dish, but some wi’ stronger stomachs, stripped them -thro’ their teeth like ratton tails, an said, Mony a ane wad be -blythe o’ sic a string to tie their hose wi’ in a pinch; my Lord -and the Gentry, Mess John and the clerk were all placed at the -head of the table, opposite to the bride, but would sup none of -the candle kail. Wise Willy and the Bridegroom served the table, -and cried, Sup and a sorrow to you, for I never liked sour kail -about my house; when the flesh came, the bride got a ram’s rumple -to pick, she takes it up and wags it at my Lord, saying, Ti hie; -my Lord, what an a piece is dat? O, said he, bride, that’s the -tail-piece, it belongs to you, Me, my Lord, it’s no mine, I never -had a ting like dat, it’s a fish tail, see as it wags, it’s a bit -o’ a dead beast. O yes, said he, bride, you hit it now; but how -come you to eat with your gloves on! Indeed my Lord, there is -a reason for dat, I hae scabbit hands. O fy, said he, I cannot -believe you, so she pulls down a piece o’ her gloves, and shows -him, O yes, said he, I see it is so; Aha, but my Lord, I wish you -saw my a--, it’s a’ in ae hatter; O fy, said he, bride, you should -not speak so before Ladies and your maiden; I wonder, said he to -Wise Willy her father, you do not teach your daughter to speak -otherwise. A be my sae, my Lord, ye may as soon kiss her a--, as -gar her speak otherwise; I find so, said my Lord, but it lies much -in lack of a teacher.[186] - -The next dish that was presented on the table, was roasted hens, -and the bride’s portion being laid upon her plate, she says to my -Lord, will ye let me dip my fowl arse, amang your sauce? Upon my -word, and that I will not, said he, if it be as you tell’d me; hout -my Lord, it’s no my arse, it’s but de hen’s I mean; O but, said he, -bride, it’s the fashion to every one to eat off their own trencher; -you may get more sauce, I can manage all mine myself; indeed, my -Lord, I thought ye liket me better than ony body; O but, said he, I -love myself better than you, bride; Deed my Lord, I think ye’re the -best body about the house, for your Lady’s but a stinking pridefu’ -jade, she thinks that we sud mak the fish a’ alike, be-go, my Lord, -she thinks we sud mak the haddies a’ like herrin, and that we can -shape them as the hens do their eggs wi’ deir arse. O bride, said -he, you, should not speak ill of my Lady; for she hears you very -well: O deed my Lord, I had nae mind o’ that, a well then, said he, -drink to me, or them ye like best; then here’s to you a’ de gither, -arse o’er head. Very well said, says my Lord, that’s good sense or -something like it. - -Dinner being over, my Lord desired the bride to dance; Indeed, my -Lord, I canna dance ony, but I’ll gar my wame wallop foment yours, -and then rin round about as fast as ye can; very well, said he, -bride, that will just do, we shall neither kiss nor shake hands, -but I’ll bow to you, and ye’ll beck to me, and so we’ll have done. - -Now, after dinner and dancing, my Lord exhorted the bride to be -a good neighbour, and to gree well, wi’ every body round about, -I wat well my Lord, ye ken I did never cast out wi’ nae body but -lang Pate o’ de Pans, and he was a’ de wyte o’t, it began wi’ a -hiertieing, and a jamffing me about Sandy, de black-stanes and -de crab-holes, where de wean was gotten, and then it turn’d to a -hub-bub and colly-shangy, an or e’er ye wad said kiss my a--, my -Lord, we are aboon ither on the mussel midden, I trow I tell’d him -o’ Randy Rob his uncle, his feif-titty it steal’d de sarks and -drank de siller, an how his midder sell’d mauky mutton, an mair nor -a’ that, a sae did I een, my Lord. - -My Lord had a friend of his own who was a captain in the army, -who came to visit him, and hearing of the Buckers’ sayings and -exploits; was desirous to see them, and my Lord as desirous to put -them in a fright, sent his servant, and ordered them, both men -and women, to come up before his gate, directly the morn about -kail-time, and all that did not come, was to flit and remove out -of my Lord’s ground directly, this put the whole of them in great -terror, some ran to Wise Willy to see what it mean’d, Willy said, -it was before something, and he was sure that death would be the -warst o’t, come what will; But Witty Eppie said, I ken weel what’s -to come, he’s gaun to mak de men o’ us sogers, and the wives -dragoons, because we’ve de best fighters; I ken there is something -to come on the town, for our Nancy saw Maggy’s gaist the streen, -it was bury’d four ouks syne;[187] a hech co’ Willy, that’s a sign -the meal is dear i’ the ither warld, when she comes to think on’t -again; we will tak our dinner or we go, we’ll may be ne’er come -back again, so away they went lamenting all in a crowd. My Lord and -the Captain were looking out at the window to them, the Captain -cries to them, To the right about, to which they answered, good -bliss you my Lord, what does that man say? Then said my Lord, turn -your face to Maggy Millheads, and your arse to the sea; this they -did in all haste. And what will we do now? said Willy; no more, -said my Lord, but gang away home Willy; O my bows, O my blessings -come o’er your bonny face, my Lord, I wish you may never die, nor -yet grow sick, nor naebody kill you: ye’re the best Lord I ken on -earth, for we thought a’ to be made dead men and sogers, ye’re -wiser than a’ the witches in Fife. - -There was in Bucky-harbour, a method when they got a hearty drink, -that they went down to dance among the boats, one, two, or three -of the oldest went into a boat to see the rest dance; when e’er -they admitted a burgher there was always a dance. One day they -admitted a glied Rob Thomson, from the island of May, an’ after he -was admitted they got account from Wise Willy that glied Rob was a -witch, which made them all stop their dancing, and Rob was cried on -to make answer to this weighty matter. Gly’d Rob cried none of you -shall stir a fit for two hours, I’se warrand you: so Rob spang’d -and jump’d over the boat several times and put them in great -terror, some cried, O ’tis i’ the air, and then they cried they saw -him i’ the air hinging, so that Rob was obliged to go back to the -May, and carry coals to the light house.[188] - -It was reported that gly’d Rob was born in Bucky and that his -father was Willy Thomson’s son, who was banish’d for a slave to the -May,[189] to carry coals; he would not tak with him, on account he -had but ae eye. After that there was no more dancing at admitting -of burgers; but the old usual way of scate rumple, and then drink -until they were almost blind. - -Upon the Rood day,[190] four young Bucky lasses were away early in -the morning with their creels full of fish, and about a mile from -the town, they saw coming down a brae like a man driving a beast, -when they came near Tardy-Tib says, ’tis a man driving a big mauken -Tib flang her creel and fish away, the other three ran anther -way, and got clear; they said it was a horned devil. Tib told the -frightsome story, and many ran to see the poor cadger man and his -ass driving the auld mauken. The fishers look on all maukens to be -devils and witches, and if they but see the sight of a dead mauken, -it sets them a trembling.[191] The fisher lasses look with disdain -on a farmer’s daughter, and a’ country lasses; they call them -muck-byers and sherney-tail’d jades. - -The Bucky lads and lasses when they go to gather bait tell strange -stories about Witches, Ghosts, Willy with the Wisp, and the Kelpy, -Fairies and Maukens, and boggles of all sorts. - -The Ghosts, like old horses, go all night for fear they are seen, -and be made to carry scate or fish, or be carted; and witches are -the warst kind of devils, and mak use of cats to ride upon, or -kill-kebbers, and besoms, and sail over seas in cockle-shells, and -witch lads and lasses, and disable bridegrooms. As for Willy and -the Wisp, he is a fiery devil, and leads people off their road in -order to drown them, for he sparks sometimes at our feet, and then -turns before us with his candle, as if he were twa or three miles -before us, many a good boat has Spunkie drown’d; the boats coming -to land in the night-time, they observe a light off the land, and -set in upon it and drown. - -The Kelpy[192] is a sly devil, he roars before a loss at sea, and -frightens both young and old upon the shore. Fairies are terrible -troublesome, they gang dancing round fouks lums, and rin through -the houses, they haunt, and play odd tricks, and lift new born -bairns from their mothers, and none of them is safe to ly with -their mothers, a night or two after they are born, unless the -mother gets a pair of men’s breeches under her head for the first -three nights; when the Fairies are frighted, they will leave an -old stock with the woman, and whip away the child. One tried to -burn an old stock that the Fairies left in the cradle; but when -the fire was put on, the old stock jumped on upon a cat and up the -lum.[193] Maukens are most terrible, and have bad luck, none will -go to sea that day they see a Mauken, or if a wretched body put in -a Mauken’s fit in their creels, they need not lift them that day, -as it will be bad luck, either broken backs, or legs, or arms, or -hear bad accounts of the boats at sea.[194] - -They are terrified for all sorts of boggles both by land and by sea. - - -THE MINISTER AND MUSSEL MOU’D HARRY. - -Mussel Mou’d Harry, the skull-maker,[195] whose lug was nailed to -a tree near my Lord’s garden, for cutting young saughs, for to -make sculls and creels of. He assumed a headdress as he had been -a devil, and went playing his tricks in the night-time, which -frighted the whole town, until the time he was catched by my Lord’s -piper. He was then sent for to the minister, and was obliged to -put on his frightful dress, with the appearance of two horns on -his head; the minister rebuked him, but he had the assurance to -tell the minister, that he only frighted his own town, but that he -frighted the whole parish, by telling them to repent or be d----d, -this is your gate o’t stir, so I made them repent by fright, and -I think, I sud be paid by your honour for’t; as you tell me stir -about my Lord’s saughs which I suffered for, if your ’onour’s lug -had been there, you could not get off so easy, for stir, your lugs -is as long as my grey cat’s, so I bid you farewel until our next -meeting. - - -FINIS. - - - - -_THE WITTY AND ENTERTAINING EXPLOITS OF GEORGE BUCHANAN._ - - - [The following pages have been reprinted from an edition having - the following on the title-page:--‘The Witty and Entertaining - Exploits of George Buchanan, who was commonly called, The King’s - Fool. In six parts. Stirling: Printed and Sold by C. Randall, - MDCCXCV.’ Some stories to be found in an edition ‘printed in - Falkirk’ in 1799, and not in the edition which has been followed - here, have been inserted in the text, and the fact noted. In - addition to the Falkirk edition, the text has been collated - with--(1) An edition published by G. Angus, Newcastle; one by J. - Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh, 1809; and undated Edinburgh, Glasgow, - Aberdeen, and Newcastle-on-Tyne editions. Many of the stories are - drawn from a variety of sources, and Buchanan is made their hero.] - - - - -THE WITTY AND ENTERTAINING EXPLOITS OF GEORGE BUCHANAN. - - -PART I. - -Mr. George Buchanan was a Scotsman born, and though of mean -parentage, made great progress in learning.--As for his -understanding and ready wit, he excelled all men then alive in -that age, that ever proposed questions to him.--He was servant or -teacher to King James VI. as his private counsellor, but publicly -he acted as his fool. - -It happened one day, that a young airy noble man went into the -king’s garden to pull a flower for a young lady he fancied: George -followed at a distance; so, when the young man found a flower -to his pleasure, he would not pull it himself, but to find it -again, without further searching, he covered it with his hat, and -went away for his sweetheart: no sooner was he gone, but up goes -George, lifts his hat, and pulls the flower, then cases himself -on the spot, and covers it with the hat again, and away he goes. -In comes the young man, leading his sweetheart to pull the flower -below the hat; but as soon as he lifted the hat, and seeing what -was below, he looked like a fool. The lady flies in a passion, off -she goes, and never would countenance him any more. The young man -being sadly vexed at this affront done to him by George, sent him -a challenge to fight him, appointing the day and place where they -were to meet. Being to fight on horseback, George gets an old stiff -horse, and for harnassing, covers him about with blown bladders, -with a little small stone in each, without either sword or spear, -away to the field he goes, where the duel was appointed; so when -George saw his enemy coming against him, all in glittering armour, -armed with sword and spear, he rode up to him with all the speed -his horse could carry him, and his horse, as is said being all -covered over with bladders, the small stones in them, made such a -terrible noise, that the gentleman’s fine gelding would not stand -the battle, but ran away, and threw his master to the ground, -which caused all the spectators to laugh, and say the gentleman -was more fool than George. The gentleman being so enraged at this -second affront, he would fight with George on foot; but his friends -persuaded him that it would be no honour for him to fight and kill -the king’s fool, and far less to be killed by the fool, so they -were advised both to agree; but the gentleman would try another -exploit with George, for to have it said he was still the cleverest -man, to hold him a jumping-bout publicly the next day thereafter. -With all my heart, says George, and we will end in and about where -we began; they not knowing his meaning in this. The place and hour -being set where they were to meet next morning, George in the -night caused a deep pit to be made, and the earth of it carried -away, afterwards filled it up with dung from a privy, covered it -over with a green turf, so that it might not be known by the other -ground; so, according to promise, they both met in the morning -against the appointed time: now George being the oldest man, and -by them counted the greatest fool, the young spark permitted him -to jump first, which he, according to order, performed; and jumped -within a foot of the place where the ground was falsified: the -young man seeing this, made his performance afterwards with great -airs and all his might, so that he jumped a foot over George, but -to the oxters among clean dung; whereat the whole multitude of -spectators cried out with huzzas and laughter. Now, says George, I -told you we would end in and about where we began, and that is in -clean dirt. - -On a time after this, the king and his court was going into the -country, and they would have George to ride before them in the -fool’s dress, whereunto he seemed unwilling, but it was the king’s -pleasure. So George was mounted upon an old horse, a pair of old -riven boots, with the heels hanging down, and a palmer coat patched -over with pictures of divers kinds. George rode before them in this -posture, which caused great laughter and diversion until they came -to an inn, where they alighted to dine; and in the time they were -at dinner George went into the stables, and with a knife cut all -the horses chaffs, not sore, but so as they might bleed. Now, as -soon as dinner was over, and they mounted on their horses again, -George riding before them as usual, in his palmer coat and old -boots, they began to make their game of him: then George turned -about suddenly, and clapping his hands with loud laughter; the king -asked him, what made him laugh so? Laugh, says George, how can I -but laugh, when horses cannot hold their peace? O my sovereign, -says he, don’t you see how your horses have rent their chafts -laughing at my old boots; then every man looking at his horse’s -mouth, they were all in a rage against George; the king caused -him to be dismounted directly, and charged him never to let him -see his face on English ground. Now George knowing that nothing -could reconcile the king at this time, he came away to Scotland, -and caused make him a pair of great boots and put a quantity of -Scottish earth in each of them, and away he goes for England to -see the king once more. He hearing the king and his court were to -pass through a country village, George places himself up in an old -window, and sets up his bare arse to the king and his court as -they passed by. The king was greatly amazed to see such an unusual -honour done to him, was curious to know the performer; so he called -unto him, asking him to come down, and finding it to be George, -Sir, says the king, did not I charge you never to let me see your -face again? True, my sovereign, says George, for which cause I let -you see my arse. Ay but says the king, you was never to come on -English ground again. Neither I did, says George, pulling off his -boots before the king, saying, Behold, my Sovereign, ’tis all Scots -ground I stand upon.--The king and his court being so diverted with -this merry joke, George was admitted again to the king’s favour. - -After this, there arose a debate betwixt the king and the queen -about votes in the parliament; as the king had two votes, the queen -would have one, and would needs be a parliamenter, or no peace -without the preferment: this matter was committed to George by -the king; so it was agreed among the parliamenters that the Queen -should be admitted into parliament for a day; and accordingly she -came, and was received with all the honour and congratulation, as -was due, and becoming her high station; but before any matter of -consequence was brought to the board, George seated himself hard -by the queen’s seat; all being silent, he rose up quickly, and -lifted one of his legs, and then gave a great fart, which set the -whole house a laughing; whereat the Queen was greatly offended, -crying, Go take the rogue and hang him; to which George answered, -A fine parliamenter indeed, to hang a man for a sinless infirmity, -and that’s a fart. The Queen being so enraged at this affront put -on her first proposal to parliament, went off in a passion, and -never would countenance them any more. But yet to be revenged on -George, she would never give the King rest till he delivered George -into her hands, that he might be punished at her pleasure: which -the king accordingly commanded to be done, knowing that George -would rescue himself by some intrigue or other. No sooner was he -delivered into her hands, to be at her disposal, but she and her -Maries[196] pronounced his doom, which is as follows: As he had -affronted the Queen among so great an equipage, who ought to be -honoured in chief, and above all women in the nation, that he -should be stoned to death by the hands of women. Now the time being -come that he was to die, according to their appointment, he was -taken into a park, where a great number of women was waiting upon -him, with their aprons full of stones, to fall upon him, and to put -him to death, according to the queen’s appointment. - - - His SPEECH to his Executioners. - - Here’s a female band with bags of stones, - To kill a man for rumple groans. - I’m clean of rapine, blood, and thefts, - Could I convert my farts to rifts; - Since I, the first, for farting die, - Close up the place from whence they fly; - To commit my crime, I think ye’ll scarce, - If once you do cork up your arse. - And now since women stones do carry, - Men need not in the world tarry. - Judge if such women be chaste complete, - With forty stones between their feet. - But since ’tis so, ye will come on, - The greatest whore throw the first stone. - -When he had ended with these words, The greatest whore throw the -first stone, every one put it to another to cast the first stone; -but knowing they would attain the character of a whore for so -doing, they all refused, till the dying hour was past, and then he -took a protest against them, and by that mean gained his life. - -After this he was admitted to the Queen’s favour and presence, -attending the court as formerly. About this time the French king -not knowing how to pick a quarrel with Great Britain, sent a -letter to the king, desiring it to be read before the Parliament, -and the writing was as follows: Will I come? Will I come? Will I -come?--This letter being read before the king and his courtiers, -they all concluded that the French king designed to invade England; -therefore they wrote a letter on purpose to send to him again -upbraiding him with the breach of peace, and putting him in mind -of the last treaty. The answer being read before the King and his -Nobles, they all condescended that it should be sent as an answer; -but George smiling and shaking his head, cried out, - - Many men, many minds; - Who knows what he designs? - -Then they asked George what he thought the French king meant -by such a letter? to which he answered, I suppose he wants an -invitation to come over to dine, and then go back in a friendly -manner; but you are going to charge him with a breach of peace, -before he has given any signal of offence or war: his letter is -indeed dark and mystical, but send him an answer according to his -question. Now George being ordered to write the answer, it was, And -ye come, And ye come, And ye come. This being sent to the French -King, he admired it beyond expression, saying, It was an answer -more valiant and daring than he expected; so the enmity he intended -was thereby turned into love. - -About this time it happened that a malignant party in Scotland sent -up a great spokesman to the King and Parliament, for the seducing -of the church: George hearing of his coming, went away and met him -on the bridge, and the salutation that he gave him was, the cutting -off his head, and throwing it over the bridge, then ran to the king -with all his might, falling down before him, pleading most heartily -for a pardon, or without it he was a dead man; the king most -seriously asked him what he had done now? to which he answered, He -had only thrown the Scots bishop’s hat over the bridge, which made -the king to laugh, to hear him ask pardon for such a small fault; -but he had no sooner got the pardon sealed by the King’s hand, then -he said, indeed my sovereign, I threw his hat over the bridge, but -his head was in it. Geordy, Geordy, says the King, thou wilt never -give over till thou be hanged. - -After this, a nobleman in England agreed with the King to put a -trick upon George, to try his manly courage, in sending him to -a certain house for a bag of money. On his way home through St. -James’s Park, they caused a sturdy fellow to go and set the way -upon him, and take the money; he being armed with sword and pistol, -came up briskly, and attacked George with these words, You, Sir, -deliver what money you have, or you are a dead man: to which George -answered, Sir I have money indeed, but ’tis not my own, and I am -sorry to give it; nevertheless, since I am not armed as you are to -exchange blows for it, you shall have it; but pray do me the favour -as to fire your pistol through the flap of my cloak, that the -owners may see I have been in danger of my life before I lost the -money; which he accordingly performed. No sooner had he fired it, -than George whips out his hanger from below his cloak, and with one -stroke cut off his right hand, wherein he held his sword, so that -both his sword and the hand fell to the ground; but George lifted -his hand, and carried it to the King. No sooner did he come before -them, but they asked him, saying, Well George, did you see any body -to trouble you by the way? No, said he, but one fellow, who was -going to take the money from me; but I made him give me his hand -he would not do the like again. You did, says the fellow’s master? -Yes, I did, says George, let work bear Witness, throwing down the -fellow’s hand on the table before them. - -Now this last exploit of George’s caused many of the English to -hate him, and among the rest, a young nobleman fell a jocking of -George, in saying, he would be as famous a champion for Scotland as -Sir William Wallace was: Ay, ay, says George, William Wallace was -a brave man in his time. True, indeed, says the other, but when he -came to London, we did him all manner of justice, and for honour of -the Scots, we have his effigy in the shite-houses to this very day. -And do you not know the reason of that, says George? No, I don’t, -says he: Well, I’ll tell you, says George, he was such a terror to -the Englishmen when he was alive, that the sight of him yet makes -them beshite themselves. The English took this as a great affront, -and forthwith caused Wallace’s picture to be taken out of that -place. - -There was a young English girl in love with a Scotsman, and -petitioned him several times for to marry her, which he refused, -and upon revenge thereof, she went to a Justice, and swore a rape -against him, which is death by the law. George hearing this, went -into the prison where the young man was, and instructed him how -to behave before the judge. So in the time of the trial, George -came in, while the judge was crying to the man, but never a word -could he get him to answer, to tell whether he was guilty or not. -After the judge had given him over for deaf and dumb, others fell -a-shouting in his ears, but never a word he would speak. Then the -judge perceiving George, called him, saying, George, do you know -what is the matter with this man? Yes I do, very well, says George. -What is it, says the judge? Why, says George, the woman made such -a noise and crying, when he was ravishing her, it has put the poor -man quite deaf, I assure you. Is it so, says the judge. No, no, -says the woman, my lord judge, you may believe me, I lay as mute as -a lamb, and never spoke a word all the time. Very well confessed, -said the judge, and you have sworn a rape against him; go take the -whore to Newgate, and let the poor man go about his business, and -so it ended.[197] - - -PART II. - -George happened one night to be in company with a Bishop, and so -they fell to argumenting anent religion,[198] wherein George got -the better of him, and the Bishop found himself he was wrong; then -one of the company addressed himself to George in these words, thou -Scot, said he, ought not have left the country; For what, says -George? Because thou hast brought all the knowledge that is in it -along with thee. No, no, says George, the shepherds in Scotland -will argument with any Bishop in England, and exceed them mighty -far in knowledge. The English clergy took this as a great affront, -and several noblemen affirmed it to be as George had said. Wagers -were laid thereon, and three of the English clergy were chosen and -sent away to Scotland to dispute it with the shepherds, accompanied -with several gentlemen who were to bear witness of what they heard -pass between them. Now George knowing what way they were gone, took -another road, and came into the Scots bounds before them, made up -his acquaintance with a shepherd at the border, whose pasture lay -hard by the way side, where the clergymen were to pass; and here -George mounted himself in a shepherd’s dress, and when he saw the -clergymen coming, he conveyed his flock to the road side, and fell -a singing a latin song; and so, to begin the quarrel, one of them -asked him, in French, What o’clock it was? To which he answered in -Hebrew, It is directly about the time of the day it was yesterday -at this time. Another asked him in Greek, What countryman he was? -To which he answered in Flemish, If you knew that, you would be as -wise as myself. A third asked him in Dutch, Where was you educate? -To which he answered in Earse, herding my sheep between this and -Lochaber. This, they begged him to explain in English, which he -accordingly did. Now, said they one to another, we need not go -any farther, What, says George, are you butchers? I’ll sell you a -few sheep. To this they made no answer, but went away shamefully, -swearing that the Scots had gone through all the nations in the -world to learn their language, or the devil had taught them it, for -we have no share here but shame. - -After that George had ended the dispute with the English clergymen, -he stript of his shepherd’s dress, and up through England with all -the haste imaginable, so that he arrived at the place from whence -they set out, three days before them, and went every day asking if -they were come, so that he might not be suspected. Now, upon their -arrival, all that were concerned in the matter, and many more, to -hear what news from the Scots shepherds, came crowding in, to know -what was done. No sooner had the three gentlemen declared what -was past between the clergymen and the shepherds, whom they found -on the Scots border, but the old bishop made answer, and think -you, said he, that a shepherd could answer these questions? It has -been none else but the devil, for the Scots ministers themselves -could not do it; they are but ignorant of such matters; a parcel -of beardless boys. Then George thought it was time to take speech -in hand. Well, my lord bishop, says he, you call them a parcel of -ignorant beardless boys, you have a great long beard yourself, my -lord bishop, and if the grace of God were measured by beards, you -bishops, and the goats will have it all, and that will be quite -averse to scripture. What, says the bishop, are you a Scot? Yes, -says George, I am a Scot: Well, says the bishop, and what is the -difference between a Scot and a sot? Nothing at present, says -George, but the breadth of the table, there being a table betwixt -the bishop and George; so the bishop went off in a high passion, -while the whole multitude were like to split their jaws with -laughter.[199] - -About this time there was an act of parliament for the benefit -of murderers, that any person if they committed murder, if they -forfeited 500 merks, which went under the name of Kin Boot,[200] -because so much of this fine went to the murdered person’s nearest -relation, as the price of blood, the murderer got a remit. Now -George knowing this to be contrary to Moses’ laws, was very much -grieved to see many pardons sealed with the king’s hand for murder, -almost one every week; it being so usual for the king to subscribe -them, that he would not read them, nor enquire what they were: for -which cause George writes a right to the crown, and sent it to the -king to be subscribed, which he actually did, and never looking -what it was, returned it to George; no sooner had he received it, -but he goes to the king, and told him it was not time for him now -to be sitting there, whereat the king, greatly amazed, started up, -then George in great haste sets himself down on the king’s chair, -forthwith declaring himself king, saying, You who was king must be -my fool, for I am now the wisest man. The king at this was greatly -offended, until George shewed him his seal and superscription; but, -from that day forth the king knew what he subscribed. - -The next pardon that came to be sealed by the king, was to a -gentleman who had killed two men before, and had gotten pardons for -them by money. This being the third, the king looked very silent in -looking over the petition, George, standing by, asked the king what -he was going to seal now? To which he answered, It is a remit for a -man who had killed three men at sundry times, I gave him two remits -before. O! says George, he has killed but one man; and who killed -the other two? says the king; you did, says George, for if you had -given him justice when he had killed the first, he had killed no -more. When the king heard these words, he threw down the pen, and -declared that such an act, to save a murderer, shall be null ever -after by him. - -One day after this, George having no money, he goes away and gets a -pick and spade, and then falls a digging at a corner of the king’s -palace, which the king perceiving from his window, calls what he -was wanting there? are you going to undermine my house, and make -it fall? No, my sovereign, said he, but it is verily reported that -there is plenty of money about this house, and where can it be? I -cannot find it; for it is not within the house to do me service, -then surely it must be below it. O George that is a crave after the -new fashion: What money you want I’ll order it for you. Then, my -sovereign, I’ll dig no more. - -One time after this George being in the country, he came to an inn -where he alighted to refresh himself and his horse; the innkeeper -charged him double price for every thing he called for; George -never grumbled at this, but gave him all his demands, and away he -goes on his journey; and where he quartered the night following, -he was used after the same manner, if not worse. Now George having -little farther to go, he returned the next day, and came that night -to the inn where he refreshed himself the day before; so when he -alighted, the boy asking him, sir, what shall I give your horse? -What you will, boy, says George. No sooner had he gone into his -room, but the drawer asked him, What will you have to drink, sir. -What you will, says George. The master of the inn came into his -room before supper, asking him, What will you have for supper, -sir? What you will, landlord, says George. Now after supper being -ended, and a hearty bowl to put all over, George went to bed, and -got up pretty early in the morning, he called for the boy to make -ready his horse in all haste, for he designed to mount him and go -directly: so in a short time he went into the stable where the boy -was, calling for his horse, when he mounting him with all the speed -he could, and giving the boy a piece of money, saying, here, my -boy, this is for your taking care of my horse, I have paid for all -I called for in the house, and off he goes. Now, about mid day, -he alighted again at an inn to refresh himself and his horse, and -there he chanced to be in company with his other landlord, where he -was the night before, and charged him with the double reckoning, so -George addressed himself to him as follows: Sir, says George, I do -believe I was in your house yesternight. Oh yes, sir, I mind of you -pretty well; and where was you last night? Last night! says George, -I was in one of the finest inns, and the civilest landlord I ever -had in my life; they brought all things that I stood in need of -unto me without calling for it, and when I came off this morning, -they charged me nothing, and I paid nothing but sixpence to the boy -for dressing my horse. Blood and wounds, said the old fellow, then -I’ll go there this night. Ay, says George, do; and mind this, when -they ask you what you will have for your horse, answer nothing, but -what you will, sir. Now George smiled within himself, to think how -he had got the one extortioner to take amends of the other. So the -foresaid innkeeper rode that night until many of the people of the -inn were gone to bed before he came. No sooner was he alighted from -his horse, than the boy asked him, What shall I give to your horse, -master? To which he answered, What you will, boy. The boy hearing -this, he runs away (leaving him and his horse to stand at the -door), up stairs to his master’s room, crying, Master, Master, What -you will is come again? O the rogue, cries he, where is he? I’ll -cane him, I’ll what you will him by and by, and to him he runs with -his cane, licks and kicks him until he was scarce able to mount his -horse, and would give him no entertainment there; which caused him -to ride the whole length of a cold winter night, after he had got -his bones all beat and bruised. So the one pursued the other as a -murderer; and his defence was, that he was a cheat and a scorner of -his house, until the truth was found out. - -About this time the French king sent and demanded from the king of -England three men of different qualities; the first was to be a -mighty strong man, the other a very wise man, and the third a great -fool: so that he might have none in all France to match them in -their stations. So accordingly there were two men chosen, the one -a strong man, and the other a wise man, but George was to act as a -fool: nevertheless, he was the teacher of the other two. On their -way to France, George asked the strong man, what will you answer -the French king, if he ask if you be a strong man? I’ll say I am. -Then, says George, he’ll possibly get a stronger man than you, who -may kill you and affront your country. What shall I say then? said -the strong man. Why, says George, tell him you are strong enough -untried. Then, says George to the wise man, and what will you say -to the king, when he asks if you are a wise man? I’ll tell him -I am, and answer him all the questions I know. Very well, says -George, and what if he ask you what you do not know, then you’ll -affront your country, and be looked upon as a greater fool than -me. What shall I answer then? said the wise man. Why, says George, -tell him, he is only a wise man that can take care of himself; -and I shall come in after you, and take care of you all together. -No sooner were they arrived at the king’s palace, than the king -sent for them to try them. The strong man being first called for, -he goes; then the king asked him, Are you a strong man? to which -he answered, O king, I am strong enough untried; very good, said -the king. After him entered the wise man, to whom the king put -the question, sir, are you a wise man? to which he answered, He -is only a wise man who can take care of himself: very good, says -the king. With that George pushed up the door, and in he goes with -loud laughter, pisses directly in the king’s face, which blinded -both his eyes, and put the whole court in amaze. Now, now, says the -king, it is true enough what the Wise man says, for if I had taken -care of myself, I need not have been pissed upon by the English -fool. O no, says George, fools always strive to make fools of -others, but Wise men make fools of themselves. The king imagined as -much as he was made the greatest fool, and charged them forthwith -to go home, for he wanted no more of England’s strength, wisdom, or -folly. - -One night after this, a Highland drover chanced to have a drinking -bout with an English captain of a ship, and at last the English -captain and him came to be very hearty over their cup; so that -they called in their servants to have a share of their liquor; the -drover’s servant looked like a wild man, going without breeches, -stockings or shoes, not so much as a bonnet on his head, with a -long peel’d rung in his hand. The captain asked him how long it was -since he catched him? it is about two years since I haul’d him out -of the sea with a net, and afterwards he ran into the mountains, -where I catched him with a pack of hounds. The captain believed it -was so; but, says he, I have a servant the best swimmer in Europe. -O but, says the drover, my servant will swim him to death. No, -says the captain, I’ll lay 200 guineas[201] on it. Then says the -drover, I hold it one for one, and stakes it directly, the day -being appointed when the trial was to be made. Now, the drover, -when he came to himself, thinking on what a bargain he had made, -did not know what to do, knowing very well his servant could swim -none. He hearing of George, being in town, who was always a good -friend to a Scotsman; he went unto him, and told him the whole -story, and that he would be entirely broke, and durst never return -to his own country, for he was sure to lose it. Now George called -the drover and his servant aside, and instructed them how to bring -him off with safety, and gain too; so accordingly they met at the -place appointed; the captain’s servant stripped directly, and -threw himself into the sea, taking a turn until the highlandman -was ready, for the drover took some time to put his servant in -order: after he was stripped, his master took his plaid, and rolled -a kebbock of cheese, a big loaf, and a bottle of gin in it, and -this he bound on his shoulders, giving him a direction to tell his -wife and children that he was well; to be sure he returned with an -answer against that day se’ennight. So as he went into the sea, he -looked back to his master, and call’d out to him for his claymore. -And, what waits he for now? says he who was to swim along with him. -He wants his sword, says his master; his sword! says the fellow, -what is he to do with a sword? Why, says his master, if he meets -with a Whale or a monstrous beast, it is to defend his life; I -know he’ll have to fight his way through the north seas, e’er he -go to Lochaber. Then, cries the other, I’ll swim none with him, if -he takes his sword. Ay, but, says the master, you shall, or lose -the wager; take you another sword with you. No, says the fellow, -I never did swim with a sword, nor any man else, that ever I saw -or heard of; I know not but that wild man will kill me in the deep -water; I would not for the whole world venture myself with him and -a sword. The captain seeing his servant afraid to venture, or if -he did, he would never see him again alive; therefore, he desired -an agreement with the drover, who at first seemed unwilling; but -the captain put it in his will, the drover quit him for an hundred -guineas. This he came to through George’s advice. - - -PART III. - -After this, George being in Cornwall about some business where he -chanced to run short of money, and not knowing what to do, being -acquainted with none in that country, and knowing his landlord to -be loyal to the government, and a great favourite to the king his -master; takes a piece of brick, and brays it to a small powder -mixed with a little chalk, so that it might seem, in colour, like -arsenick which is strong poison; then tying it up in papers, -writing on this direction, the strongest poison for the king, and -on another paper, the slower poison for the queen. Out he goes on -purpose, and leaves the papers lying on a table, where he knew they -would be looking at them; the landlord perceived the direction; -so in comes George in a great haste, and calls out, O landlord, -did you see two small bundles I have lost, and I know not what I -shall do, for it was my main business to take them to London.--O! -you murdering rogue! cries the landlord, I’ll have you hanged for -what you intend. George at this made off, and was going to fly for -it, but the landlord called for assistance; so he was apprehended, -and made prisoner of state, and carried him to London by a troop -of horse; when the people there began to know him, and tell what -he was, his guard slipt away shamefully, and left him; so George -thanked them for their good company and save convoy. - -There was a law made against wearing swords at balls and -assemblies, in the reign of King James VI. because they were -inconvenient on these occasion; but George, to be witty on the -act, provided himself with a very long scabbard, and got himself -introduced to a ball, where the king and his court were present; -George made several turns through the company, making his scabbard -hit against their shins, and sometimes slipt it below a lady’s -fardingale; and, in short, molested the company so much, that he -was taken notice of, and seized as a person who had incurred the -penalties of the act aforesaid. But George excused himself, telling -them, that the law was only against swords, and as he only wore -a scabbard, was no ways liable. At seeing this, the king and his -court were convinced that the law was imperfect, and that George -had more wit than themselves. - -George, one day easing himself at the corner of a hedge, was espied -by an English ’squire, who began to mock him, asking him, Why did -he not keckle like the hens? But George whose wit was always ready, -told him, He was afraid to keckle lest he would come and snatch up -the egg. Which rebuff made the ’squire walk off as mute as a fish. - -George was professor of the College of St. Andrews, and slipt out -one day in his gown and slippers, and went to his travels through -Italy, and several other foreign countries; and after seven years, -returned with the same dress he went off in; entered the college, -and took a possession of his seat there; but the professor in his -room quarrelled him for so doing. Ay, says George, it is a very -odd thing that a man cannot take a walk out in his slippers, but -another will take up his seat; and so set the other professor about -his business. - -George was met one day by three bishops, who paid him the following -compliments. Says the first, Good day, father Abraham; says the -second, Good day, father Isaac; says the third, Good day, father -Jacob. To which he replied, I’m neither father Abraham, father -Isaac, nor father Jacob; but I am Saul, the son of Kish, sent out -to seek my father’s asses, and lo! I have found three of them. -Which answer convinced the bishops that they had mistaken their -man.[202] - -A poor Scotsman dined one day at a public house in London upon -eggs, and not having money to pay, got credit till he should -return. The man being lucky in trade, acquired vast riches, and -after some years returned, and calling at the house where he -was owing his dinner of eggs, asked the landlord what he had to -pay for his dinner of eggs he had got from him such a time? The -landlord seeing him now rich, gave him a bill of some hundred -pounds; telling him, as his reason for so extravagant a charge, -that these eggs, had they been hatched, would have been chickens; -and these laying more eggs, would have been more chickens; and -so on, multiplying the eggs and their product till such time as -their value amounted to the sum he charged. The man refusing to -comply with his demand, was charged before a judge; but mean -time, made the matter known to George Buchanan his countryman, -who promised to appear in the hour of cause, which he accordingly -did, all in a sweat, with a great basket of boil’d pease: which -appearance surprised the judge, who asked him, what he meant by -these boil’d peas? Says George, I am going to sow them. When will -these grow? says the judge: They will grow when sodden eggs grow -chickens. Which answer convinced the judge of the extravagance of -the Englishman’s demand, and the Scotsman was assoilized on paying -twopence halfpenny. - -There was a bell at Dalkieth, which the Popish clergy made use of -to extort confessions from the ignorant people, in the following -manner: They told the persons whom they suspected guilty, that the -bell would rive at the touch of a guilty person, but if not guilty, -it would not; by this means they generally frightened the ignorant -into confessions; for if the bell would rive, the person was then -to be condemned to death; but they magnified the matter so, that -the bell was never put to the trial, till George did as follows: he -was taken up for saying, that the pope was fallible himself, and -could not pardon the sins of others. George owned he said so, but -would refer to the bell whether he was guilty or not. The priests, -though unwilling, were obliged to comply. George touched the bell, -repeating as before, The Pope is fallible, and cannot pardon sin, -moreover added, The Pope and Popish clergy are impostors; and -thereupon touched the bell, referring to it for the truth; but the -bell not renting, the priests were disgraced as impostors, and he -was honourably acquited, and the bell was laid aside. - -George desired a member of the College of St. Andrews to lend him -a book: the other told him, he could not possibly spare it out of -his chamber, but if he pleased he might come there and read all the -day long. Some time after the gentleman sends to George to borrow -his bellows; but he sent him word, he could not possibly spare them -out of his chamber, but he might come there and blow all the day if -he would.[203] - -A scholar at the grammar school of St. Andrews, coming into a room -where the master had laid down a basket of cherries for his own -eating, the waggish boy takes it up, and cries aloud, I publish the -banns between these cherries and my mouth, if any know any just -cause or impediment, why these two should not be joined together, -let them declare it. The master being in the next room, overheard -all that was said; and, coming into the school, he ordered the -boy who had eaten his cherries to be taken up, or, as he called -it, horsed on another boy’s back: but before he proceeded to the -usual discipline, he cries out aloud, as the delinquent had done, I -publish the banns between this boy’s breeches and my taws: if any -one knows any just cause or impediment why these two should not be -joined together, let them declare it. George passing by in the mean -time, overheard this proclamation; I forbid the banns, cried he. -Why so, says the schoolmaster? Because the parties are not agreed, -replied he. Which answer so pleased the master, that the boy was -set down without any punishment. - -A young gentleman that wanted to be witty on the scriptures, eating -some cheese full of mites, one night at a tavern; now, said he, I -have done as much as Sampson, for I have slain my thousands and ten -thousands. Yes, replied George, who happened to be in his company, -and with the same weapon too, the jaw-bone of an ass; which answer -set the whole company a laughing to see the young gentleman beat -with his own weapon. - -George being in company where three bishops were present at dinner, -they knowing George to be a great scholar, and comical withal, they -put upon him to say the grace, which he did as follows: - - Here are three brethren of the coat, - Who for thy blessings thank thee not, - Curse them, Lord, and bless them not. Amen. - -Fall on gentlemen, the cause is good. This grace made the bishops -look like fools to one another, while George laughed heartily at -the confusion they were in. - -A candle maker having had some candles stole, was telling it in a -company where George was present, who bade him be of good cheer, -for in a short time says he, I am assured they will come to light. - -George being sent to Paris about some business, went from thence to -Versailles, to see the French king’s court: and being known there -to several of the courtiers, who had been at the English court, one -of them took occasion to tell the French King, that George was one -of the wittiest men in England; upon which the French King desired -to see him, which he did; but George, it seems, was out of humour, -or at least seemingly so, he spoke but very little to the purpose; -so that the French King told the nobleman that had commended him -for such a wit, that he looked upon him as a very dull fellow; but -the nobleman assured the King that whatever he thought of him, -George was a very witty and ingenious man: whereupon the King -was resolved to make further trial of him, and took him into a -great gallery, where there were abundance of fine pictures; and, -among the rest, shewed him a picture of Christ on the cross, and -asked him, If he knew who that was? but George made himself very -ignorant, and answered, no; Why, says the King, I’ll tell you, if -you don’t know; this is the picture of our Saviour on the cross, -and that on the right is the Pope’s, and that on the left is my -own. Whereupon George replied, I humbly thank your majesty for -the information, for though I have often heard that our Saviour -was crucified between two thieves, yet I never knew who they were -before. - -A sharper who had acquired vast riches by cheating, told George, -that if such a thing as a good name was to be purchased, he would -freely give ten thousand pounds for one. Sir, said George, it would -certainly be the worst money you ever laid out in your life. Why -so? said the sharper; because answered he, you will lose it again -in less than a week. - -One asked George, why men always made suit to the women, and the -women never to the men? Why, says he, because the women are always -ready for the men, but the men are not always ready for the women. - -George went into the mint one day, when they were melting gold, -one of them asked George, if he would have his hat full of gold? -George readily accepted, but it burnt the bottom out of his hat, -as they knew it would, and for that bout they fooled George. -However George, to be up with them, bought a fine large hat, and -caused a plate of copper to be put betwixt the hat and the lining, -and returned next day, they jestingly asked him if he would have -another hatful of gold? he said he would; they gave it red hot, and -now George laughed at them in his turn, telling them, that this -new hat was a good one, and stood fire better than the old one; -and so carried it off honestly; and being afterwards prosecute for -to return it, he excused himself, telling the judge, that he took -nothing but what was given him; and therefore he was honourably -acquitted, and the others heartily laughed at. - -In the reign of king James the Sixth, George dining one day with -the Lord Mayor, after two or three healths the ministry was tossed; -but when it came to George’s turn to drink he diverted it some -time by telling a story to the person who sat next him; the chief -magistrate not seeing his toast go round, called out, What sticks -the ministry at? At nothing, cries George, and so drank off his -glass. - -George being one day along with the king and his nobles a-hunting, -and being but very sorrily mounted; when he was spurring up his -horse, he observed the horse have a trick of falling down on his -knees. George immediately thought how he should make use of that -very thing to divert his Majesty; therefore pretended that his -horse could set hares, and knowing some hare-seats, rode that way, -to show the truth of what he affirmed; and when he had found the -hare, by giving his horse a spur, he immediately clapped down; -this he repeated several times, till he put the whole company in -belief that what he said was true; and one of the noblemen being -charmed with the performance of George’s horse, would have George -to change with him; George seemed, at first, unwilling to part with -his horse; but at last was prevailed upon to part with him for the -nobleman’s horse, and a hundred guineas to boot. But afterwards -riding thro’ a pretty deep river, the nobleman spurring his new -horse, he clapped down on his belly; which George seeing, called -out to the company to return with the dogs, for the nobleman’s -horse had certainly set a hare: which set the whole company -a-laughing. The poor nobleman was obliged to leave his horse set in -the water, and waded through on foot, all wet to the shoulders.[204] - -A Scotsman being reduced to poverty, made his court to George to -put him in a way; George told him he would, provided he would -do as he directed him. There was an old miser, an usurer and -money-changer hard by; George ordered the poor fellow to pretend an -errand to the miser, and when he came to the table where the heaps -of money lay, to thrust his hand among the gold, but to lift none, -and run off. This the poor fellow did, and was chased by the miser -and his servants, who ran after him into the street, calling stop -the thief; the poor fellow was stopt, (as George had desired him -to let them catch him). George appeared in the mob, and went along -with the poor fellow, who was carried before a judge, where he was -searched; and nothing being found upon him, he was acquitted, and -the miser fined in a large sum for accusing him. Afterwards George -desired him to go to the same place, and thrust in both his hands, -and lift up as much as he could and run off. This he did, but the -miser told him, he was not such a fool as to follow him, for he -knew he only desired to play the fool to have him fined again. -By this means the poor fellow was enriched, and afterwards lived -honestly. - -George being at dinner one day, where the broth was very hot, burnt -his mouth, and at the same time letting go a loud fart; It is very -good for you, says George, that you made your escape, for I should -have burnt you alive had you staid. - - -PART IV. - -A young curate, with more pertness than wit or learning, being -asked in company, how he came to take it into his head to enter -into the ministry of the church? Because, said he, the Lord hath -need of me. That may be, replied George, who was present, for I -have often heard that the Lord had once need of an ass. - -After this, George being sent with the British ambassador into -Italy, by the way of Paris; and as they were viewing the beautiful -statues, and large buildings of that spacious city: the King, and -many of his nobles in company, as they were walking through the -King’s garden, among the images of the saints, they came to the -image of the virgin Mary, who stood in a melancholy posture with -the babe in her arms, one of the noblemen says to the British -ambassador, don’t you think but she looks as she were angry? O yes, -says George, she’s angry when she sees Englishmen and Frenchmen in -friendship and unity one with another. No, no, said the French king -she loves nothing better than the reconciliation of enemies; peace -and unity is her delight. Then George gets in below the statue, and -looks up; O, says George, I know what is the matter now, some body -has driven a great nail in her arse, I see the head of it sticking -out, it would vex any living be’s a piece of wood. At this the king -was greatly enraged against George for saying so, for calling her -a piece of wood; and nothing would satisfy the King, unless that -George would fall down and worship the Virgin Mary, and crave mercy -of her for the blasphemous reproaches wherewith he hath reproached -her. Then George cries out, O may it please your majesty to omit -it at this time, I dare not look her in the face, she frowns on -me with such an angry countenance, this dutiful command of your’s -must be delayed until I return from Italy, and then I shall fulfill -your demand, in paying all dutiful respects and worship unto her, -according to what she is. So here the ambassador stood bound for -George, that he should perform this piece of worship at his return, -according to the king’s pleasure. - -Now, during their stay in Italy, they chanced to be in a nobleman’s -house where they kept but few servants, because of a spirit that -did haunt the house for the space of 200 years before that time, so -that no servant could work any kind of labour in or about the house -for it, except cooks, for what they vulgarly called a Brownie, it -did all itself, and would suffer no fellow labourer to work along -with it. On the next morning, George got up pretty early, called -for water to wash himself; then directly comes the Brownie with a -bason of water in the one hand, and a clean cloth in the other. -George perceiving him having such a pale ghostly countenance, not -to be an earthly creature said, of what nation art thou? To which -it answered in Galic or Earse, a countryman of yours, Sir. The -ambassador smiled, and joked George, telling him, it was a devil, -and how could it be a countryman of his? O, says George, I’ll -show you the contrary of that, for the devil dare not stay in our -country, George having washed himself, it came again to take away -the bason and water; then says George, and how long is it since -you left your own country? About 250 years ago, says it. Then -certainly, says he, thou art a devil, and not an earthly creature. -To which he answered, - - I am what I am, and a Christian too. - Then I am what I am to conjure you. (says George.) - -He taking a handful of water, and throwing it on the old withered -face of it, repeating the form of the words of baptism of Earse; -saying, if thou be a Christian, thou art old enough now to be -baptized. No sooner had he done this, but it went off weeping and -crying, O! let never a rogue put trust in his countryman after -me. Now, says George, I told you the devil dare not stay in my -country, nor yet look a Scotsman in the face in his own. Why, says -the Italian lord, do you imagine, that this is the devil’s own -country? It appears so says George, for he is the oldest residenter -in it I know; but my lord, said he, and if it please your grace, I -think the clergymen are very scant in this country, when you have -kept the devil so long for a chaplain. The nobleman unto this gave -no answer, but expressed his sorrow to be very great for the loss -of his Brownie. - -Now the ambassador having done his business in Italy they returned -homeward, and on their way, the ambassador began to question George -how he thought to escape Paris without committing idolatry. No, no, -says George, I never did worship any image, nor never shall; but -I shall make them worship the worst that is in my guts. No sooner -were they arrived in Paris, but George leaves the ambassador, -and goes directly to the Virgin Mary, jumps in over the rail to -the holy ground (as they termed it) whereon she stood, where few -durst go but priests and friars; and there he loosed his breeches, -and made such a groaning, easing himself, that he was heard at a -distance by the priests and friars who were walking near by, and -they perceiving this heinous abomination, ran upon him like a -pack of hounds, and carried him before the cardinals and Father -confessors, where he was allowed to speak for himself, which he did -as follows--May it please your most excellent Worships to hear my -reasons, before you pronounce my sentence to be put in execution -against me. It was my fortune to be passing through this city a few -months ago, with the British ambassador, on our way to Italy; and -one day being walking in the kings garden in presence of the king, -and many of his nobles, who can bear witness to the truth of the -same; I being ignorant of your traditions and rites of religion, -foolishly offended, reproaching the Virgin Mary to her face; and -ever since she has plagued me with a boundness in my belly, that I -have voided nothing but clean hach; so now on my return I went and -implored her to open my fundament, and she has done so; I being -overjoyed at the miraculous healing, in getting passage in her -presence, I left it as a memorial of the miracle in that place. -When hearing this, they all with one consent, lifted up their hands -and blessed the Virgin Mary for the wonderful miracle she had done; -and ordered George to go about his business, and declare unto all -what was done, to him by the holy Virgin, for the confirmation of -their religion. So all the devout Romans came to view his dung, and -worship over it; the king himself kneeled down, and worshipped, -bowing his body over it, in presence of many people; and also -caused a holy day to be observed thro’ all his dominions, for the -miraculous cure. - -Now George being a long time absent from Britain, he thought to -go and visit the king and his court in disguise. He meeting with -an old man driving two old horses, loaded with coals to sell. -George here makes a bargain with the old man, for the loan of his -clothes, his horses and coals, whip, and every thing to complete -him as a real coal-driver; so away he goes in this dress, until -he came before the king’s palace, where he began to cry with an -audible voice, Buy coals, buy coals; better buy than borrow. -Now the king being in company with his young chaplain, who was -a foundling, none knew his original, and had been suffered and -educated out of charity by the king’s father, yet he was become -as proud as lucifer, and as proud in his own conceit as the king -himself. Now, the king knowing George’s voice, tho’ he was in a -coalman’s dress, desired the chaplain to ask the coalman why he -called so loud, making such a terrible noise. The chaplain opened -the window, and with great airs called unto him, You, Sir, why do -you cry so for? Why, says George, I cry for people to come and buy -my coals, and give me money for them; but what do you cry for? -What, sir, says the young priest, I cry for you to hold your peace. -Then, says George, come here then, and cry for me, and go sell my -coals, and I will hold my peace. Sell my coals, says the priest, -do you know unto whom you speak? Yes, I do know, says George, but -you do not. What are you? says the priest; I am a mortal, and so -are you, says George. What is your father’s name, since you will -not tell your own? says the priest: You may go ask that at my -mother, says George, for I was not sufficient when she got me to -know him. What, says the priest, do you not know your own father? -I know my mother, and my mother did know my father, says George, -and that is sufficient, and more than you can say, perhaps. The -priest thinking he was coming too near him, thought to put him -off with a scriptural question, by asking him, If he knew who -was Melchizedec’s father? Indeed, master priest, says George, -Melchizedec’s descent was not counted, neither is yours, then who -can declare your generation? The priest, at this answer, would -stand the argument no longer, but closed the window in great haste, -while the king, and all who knew the priest to be a foundling, were -like to split their sides laughing; so George went off with his -coals, and the priest became more humble than he was, formerly, for -he thought that every body knew who he was, when the coalman knew -so well. - -One night after this, an English ’squire, who profess’d to be -better versed in poetry than George, laid a wager with another -gentleman, five guineas against one, that George could not metre -the first words he would say to him in the morning, when newly -awaked out of his sleep: so the gentleman went the night before, -and told George the story, and bade him be on his guard, for in -the morning they would certainly come, and that right early. At -midnight and you will, says George, I’ll order my servant to let -you in. So the English ’squire sat up all night conferring with his -friends, whether to put a high verse to him, or mean and simple -words, thinking George would be sitting up all night meditating on -an answer; so they all agreed, that mean and simple words he would -not be thinking on, and have no answer provided for such. Then -away they came in the morning very early, with several gentlemen -in company to hear the diversion. George’s servant opened the door -according to his master’s orders. The ’squire entered the room -first, and wakened George out of his sleep, then said, - - Rise up you madman, and put on your cloathes. - -To which George answered, - - O thou hast lost thy wad man, for I’m none of those. - -The English ’squire confessed he was fairly beat, and would match -him with no more. Then another gentleman would hold five guineas, -that he would give him a word or line, that he could not metre at -the first answer; and to answer it directly as soon as he had done -speaking; but George ordered him first to table the money, and then -to proceed, which he did in all haste; and said as follows: - - My belly rumbl’d, and then I farted. - -George gripping to the money, answered, - - A fool and his money is soon parted. - -Then they all cried out, he was fairly beat, and what George had -said, was realy true; but he never would lay any more wagers -concerning poetry. - -After this George got a letter from a bishop, telling him, that he -was coming to visit him, and take dinner with him in his lodging; -George sent an answer, that he would wait upon his lordship at the -day appointed; but well did George know, it was not for any love -he had unto him, he was coming to visit him, but to spy fairlies; -therefore he thought he should give him something to talk about. -So George sent his servant to a bookseller’s shop to buy a dozen -of small pamphlets, about a halfpenny a piece; such as a groat’s -worth of wit for a penny, the history of the king and the cobler, -and such pieces as these; taking all his own books away, and -putting the pamphlets in their place, which he presented to the -bishop, when he asked for a sight of his library. What, says the -bishop, have you no more books but these? No more, says George, but -my bible; just no more. O! says the bishop, I wonder how you can -either speak plain, or write a perfect sentence, when you have no -other books than these. O! says George, do you think that I am a -clergyman, to borrow other men’s sermons to beautify my works: no, -no, not I: all that I write I dite, I meditate out of my own brain. -This check concerning borrowing put the bishop in a cold sweat, -yet he concealed his passion. Then George called to his servant, -if dinner was ready yet? to which he answered, Come, master, come, -the pot is on the boil, get out the meal pock: then George came -into the room where his servant was, and set the bishop at the one -side of the fire, and sat down on the other himself, while his -servant made a great bowl full of milk brose, and set them between -the bishop and George; then George desired his lordship to ask a -blessing to what they were to receive, the bishop did not know -what he meaned by a blessing, it not being usual for the English -to do so, asked at George what it was? But George took up a great -ram horn spoon, and put it in the bishop’s hand, saying, There it -is, my lord. What, says the bishop, call you that a blessing? we -call that a spoon. O my lord, says George, it is the best blessing -you can ask, if you do not come empty. Well, says the bishop, and -how do you call that scalded meal? says George, we call it Scots -brose. O! said the bishop, I cannot eat it. O! says he, the thing -we cannot eat we sup, my lord, since you are in a Scotsman’s house, -you must partake of a Scotsman’s victuals. Then says the bishop, -I always thought the Scots lived well till now; I would not be -a Scotsman for the world. O said George, if a Scotsman live but -twenty years, and get but nineteen years meat, he cannot be badly -off. What, not badly off, and want a year’s victuals? said the -bishop; upon my word of honour, if I wanted one days victuals, I’d -be sure to die the next. O, says George, we drink water when we -cannot do better, and that puts us in remembrance of wealth; for -a dish of contentment is good cheer. Then, said the bishop, I’ll -drink water too if it be good for the memory. Ay do; said George, -and you’ll remember me when you do so. Now, after dinner, the -bishop took his leave of George, and desired him next day to come -and dine with him. - - -PART V. - -Next day, George, according to his promise, went to the bishop’s -lodging; but no sooner did the bishop see George, than he saluted -him with these words: - - Your servant, master wise man, - And yet you have no books: - How can one have knowledge, - That no man instructs? - -George answered, - - Your servant, master bishop, - Your salutation’s good: - Your knowledge is in your library, - While other’s is in their hood. - -Now, after a sumptuous dinner, the bishop took George into his -library, showing him a great quantity of books; which George -praised very much, and among the rest, was an old Hebrew Bible, -which George taking up, asked the bishop what book it was? the -bishop looking at it very sincerely, said he could not tell. Why -then do you keep a book, you don’t know the name of? It may be the -book of black art. No, I don’t think that, said the bishop, but can -you tell what it is? Yes, says George, it is the Bible, the best -book for a bishop I know, if he had eyes to see the inside of it. -So he desired George to read a piece of it: but when he did, he -could not understand it; therefore, he desired him to explain it: -which sentence he did as follows, Isaiah ix. 19, “For the leaders -of this people cause them to err: and they that are led of them, -are destroyed.” To which George added, This is the blind leading -the blind. So, taking his leave of the bishop, he parted with him, -saying these words: - - Good night, hail master bishop, - Of books you have great store; - Yet cannot read the half of them; - Then what use are they for? - -Many of the clergymen in England desired greatly to be in company -of George, because of his comical and witty expressions; so George -happened one night to be called into a company, where there were -two bishops, as also a priest who wanted to be licensed by them. -One of the bishops asked George, why the people in Scotland did -not love bishops? Because, says George, they are like old beggars, -advanced to be rulers over barrow-men, still instructing them in -things they know not themselves, ordering them to carry stones -to the builders, which they will not receive, and which they -themselves had never power to move; the Scots having knowledge of -this, hate to see bishops have great lordships for their ignorance, -and the poor labourer have little or nothing for their toil. One of -the bishops looking at George, with an angry countenance, answered, -saying, You Scot must be made a bishop yourself, and we bishops -made priests, and that will serve well for your turn. No, no, said -George, that will not do; for if I be made a bishop, I’ll have no -broken bishops to serve as priests under me, for they are such -bad masters they’ll become the worst of all servants. At this the -two bishops left the room in a great passion, leaving George and -the young priest only by themselves. Now, now, says George, this -proves the bishops to be but hirelings, and not true shepherds, -pointing to the young priest, you see they are fled for their own -safety and they have left you a lamb, before the mouth of me a fox, -and who knows but I may worry you! Run, run, too, master sheep, -says George, and if you have eyes guide them two blind shepherds -down stairs, and over ditches, but I am afraid you’ll tumble -all in a ditch together. This raised such an indignation in the -bishops’ breasts, that they desired no more of George’s company or -conversation. - -One time after this, George being in the country about twenty miles -from London, and on his way homeward, came up after him a fine -gilded coach, which George being informed belonged to the bishop -of Canterbury, and was going to London for his lordship; George -addresses himself to the coachman, for to have a passage with him -in the coach to London; so he bargained with the coachman for two -dollars to carry him to the Bell inn on London bridge; the one he -gave him in hand, as he entered the coach door, and the other he -was to give him as soon as ever he would see him come out at the -coach door; so away the coachman drives for London in all haste; in -which time George wrote the following MOTTO: - - Here sits the bishop of Canterbury, - Who at the schools disdain’d to tarry, - Far better skill’d at games than preaching. - Although he lives by others teaching - Blind leaders of the blind indeed; - ’Tis blind and lame who chariots need, - Six brutes with eyes, this brute doth carry, - I mean the bishop of Canterbury. - My feet being lame, I gave a dollar, - To be drove in state like you a scholar; - For which, myself I do abhor; - Shame caus’d me make another door. - -These lines George battered upon the inside of the coach, and when -he came within a mile of London, took a knife, and cut a great hole -in the backside of the coach, where he came out; and to make his -promise good to the coachman, that he was to give him the other -dollar as soon as ever he saw him come out at the coach-door. The -poor coachman drove on till he came to the foresaid inn, where he -alighted and opened the door to let out his passenger; but seeing -the coach empty, and a great hole in the backside of it, he cried -out, he believed he had had the devil in the coach, and that he had -taken away the backside of it with him. The people of the inn came -all flocking about to see what was done, and then perceiving the -lines on the inside of the coach, which the bishop came and read -himself, they all concluded it to be done by George, but could make -nothing of it; for, the bishop said, to pursue him might make it -worse, but no better. - -George was invited one day by a great lawyer to come and see a new -building which he had lately built of fine freestone and marble. -He desired George to guess what it was built with; George answers, -Do you think that I do not know what it is built with: No, you do -not, says the lawyer: Yes, I do, says George; it cannot stand long, -for malice and hatred is the mortar of it, and the stones are the -heads of foolish people, polished over with the tongue of an ass. -What, says the lawyer, do you compare me to an ass? O! sir, don’t -you remember that an ass was made an advocate, and spoke against -Balaam. The lawyer to this would give no answer, but took good -night of George. - -Three merchants, pedlars (as they professed to be) came with a pack -of goods, to put a trick upon a widow Woman who kept an inn on -the highway side; after they had drunk very hearty, they desired -the Woman to lay up the pack securely, and charged her strictly, -before witnesses, to deliver it to none of them, unless they came -altogether for it again, and in about three weeks thereafter, two -of them returned and desired the woman to give them the pack: -telling her, that the other man was gone to such a fair with -another pack, where they were all to meet; and that they were -fellow-travellers, conjunct in trade, and how they all had a right -to the pack alike; whereupon the poor simple Woman, not dreading -any further harm, gave them the pack. So in a few days thereafter, -the other man comes and demands the pack; the honest Woman told -him plainly, that the other two men had been there before, and got -it away: then he began to demonstrate to the Woman, what great -danger she was in, and forthwith raised a process against her -by law, which cost the poor Woman a vast of money to defend, as -the plea continued more than two full years: and a great court -being one day to sit upon the process to decide it, which would -undoubtedly have been done in favour of the pursuer, the proof -being so clear, and the woman herself not denying what the bargain -was when she got the pack to keep. The poor Woman being in great -straits, her purse being turned empty, and her attorney told her -plainly, as her money was done, he could no longer defend her; -the Woman once more plucked up her heart, and went to London to -employ a new attorney to speak for her; but for want of gold, she -could get none to undertake it. George being in a house where -he heard the poor Woman making a mournful complaint to one of -her attornies, who gave her no comfort or satisfaction; for when -she told him, she had no money to spend, or give in defence of -it, the attorney went away and would hear no more of the Woman’s -grievous complaint, which made George to laugh very heartily, -while the poor Widow sat weeping like one distracted. Poor woman, -says George, you need not think that man will speak a word for -you, or any else, unless you had brought him a purse of gold to -loose his tongue; but as I have got a scheme in the matter, you -may go home, and have patience until the time come; and then, my -life for yours, poor Woman, that I shall send you an attorney, who -will do your business for nothing. He gave the poor Woman more -courage than any she had spoken with in London; for every one -told her, that all the attornies in the World could not free her. -So accordingly at the day appointed, George dressed himself like -an attorney with his gown, and every thing as he had been really -so. The court being fenced, and the process read over, expences -and the value of the pack, having amounted to above seven hundred -pounds, was ordered to be put in decreet against the poor Widow, -which every one was bemoaning, but could give her no relief. Now -George kept himself silent, hearing them all with great patience, -until the very nick of time, he thought proper to address himself -to the judges as followeth. My lords, judges and gentlemen of this -honourable Court and company, I have come from London, gratis, out -of pure pity, to speak a word or two in favour of this poor Woman, -who hath exhausted all her means in defence of a false accusation -charged against her; and now when her money is gone, her speakers -are dumb, and I see none to plead the cause of this poor Widow. -Now, when sentence is upon the tapis of being pronounced against -her, I earnestly desire this court to modify and drop the expences -altogether. It is enough when the poor Woman has the pack to pay: -for you all know the woman was no way enriched by it, when the -other two men got it away. Then the pursuers attorney made answer -as follows. Sir, I would have thought that you, who have come from -London, and professes to be a doctor of law, should know better -things; know ye not, that he who gains the plea, gains his expences -as well as the sum, or be what it will. Yes, it must, and shall be -so, said the judges. Then, said George, This is all I want; which -set the whole court a-laughing, thinking he was a fool and become -an adversary to the poor Woman. Give over your sport, gentlemen, -says George, I have not done yet.--My lords, judges, you’ll bear me -in this, if the poor Woman made a bargain with this merchant, and -the other two who was with him, for to keep that pack safely, and -to deliver it to none of them, until they were all three present; -now, let that man, who is here at the time, go and seek the other -two, and they shall have their pack, for she has the pack safe -enough; but she will keep by her first bargain. So I refer to you, -judges and gentlemen, if this poor Woman be not in the right. This -made the judges look one to another, and the whole Court with one -voice, declared the Woman to be in the right, and ordered the -pursuer to go and seek his two companions. No, no, says George, the -poor Woman must first have her expences, or security for it. Then -the judges caused the pursuer to be arrested at the bar, until the -Woman got satisfaction for all her trouble and expences. So George -returned to London unknown, but for an advocate, whose fame was -spread over all England; which caused many who had law-suits to -search through London for him, but could never find the advocate -who had gained the Widow’s law-plea. - -George being one day in the country, and coming thro’ a village, -there came a great big mastiff dog and gripped him by the leg, -until the blood followed his long teeth; George, with one stroke of -his cane came over his eyes, until he fell down and died upon the -spot; ’tis well for thee, says George, that I killed thee before -thou wast brought to justice, for thou hadst certainly been hanged -for what thou hast done, and thy master severely fined for keeping -thee. The owner of the dog hearing George say so, went off without -speaking a word to George, for fear it had been so. - -A country gentleman came one time, and enquired at George what he -thought was the reason he lost every law-suit or plea he set his -face to; though never so just a claim, the law went still against -him. George asked him, whom he employed, and he told him, that he -was one of the best and ablest attorneys in England. Yes, says -George, I believe he may be so; but when you go to law again, if -you have a mind to win it, when you give your own attorney a guinea -give your adversary two; for these attornies are much after the -nature of an ass, they won’t speak right, if you do not throw a -multitude of angels before them (meaning pieces of English money, -called angels by name). The gentleman returned in a few weeks -thereafter, and heartily thanked George for his good advice, for -he was not afraid now, but he could gain any plea he took in hand, -just or unjust.[205] - -Two drunken fellows one day fell a-beating one another on the -streets of London, which caused a great croud of people to throng -together to see what it was; a taylor being at work up in a high -garret, about three or four stories high, and he hearing the noise -in the street, looked over the window, but could not well see them; -he began to stretch himself, making a long neck until he fell down -out of the window, and alighted on an old man, who was walking on -the street: the poor taylor was more afraid than hurt, but the -man he fell on died directly. His son caused the taylor to be -apprehended, and tried for the murder of his father; the jury could -not bring it in as wilful murder, neither could they altogether -free the taylor; the jury gave it over to the judges, and the -judges to the king: the king asked George’s advice in this hard -matter. Why, says George, I will give you my opinion in a minute; -you must cause the taylor to stand in the street, in the same place -where the old gentleman was when he was killed by the taylor, and -then let the old gentleman’s son, the taylor’s adversary, go up to -the window from whence the taylor fell, and jump down, and so kill -the taylor, as he did his father; for I can make no more of it. You -see it was a great mercy for the taylor he had the old gentleman -below him, else he had been killed on the spot; and that it was -the old gentleman’s lot or misfortune to die there. The taylor’s -adversary hearing this sentence past, he would not venture to jump -over the window, and so the taylor got clear off. - - -PART VI. - -George being one night in company with some English noblemen in -presence of the king, they began to demonstrate such a fine place -as England was, both for beautiful buildings and fruitful fields: -one gentleman said, he knew a place in England, though they should -crop the grass even with the ground at night, and lay down a crown -on it before a hundred witnesses, against to-morrow you would not -know where to find it. That may seem very strange to some, says -George, but it is no mystery to me, knowing, there would be enough -of them who saw the crown-piece laid down, ready for to come and -take it up before tomorrow. But, says George, I know a place in -the west of Scotland, where, if you’ll tether a horse at night, -against the next morning you will not see him. What a pox will -take him away? says the Englishman. Only such people, says George, -as will take away your crown-piece. O! says the English nobleman, -you know what I mean. Then, says George, you talk much of towns -you have in England, I know three towns in poor Scotland, for -properties you have none such. Pray, says the gentleman, what are -these properties? Why, says George, I know one town where there -is a hundred bone bridges in it; another town where there are -fifty draw-bridges in it; another town where, tho’ a man commits -murder, treason, or owes never so much money, he runs to that town, -and gets in below a stair, no laws nor justice can harm him. The -nobleman offered immediately to stake a hundred pounds, that there -was no such towns in Europe, besides in Scotland. They desired -George to tell but the names of those towns, for they would find -him out, and know whether lie was a liar or not. So he told their -names, and two men were sent to Scotland to see them: the first -was Duddingstone, near Edinburgh, where they came and asked for -the bone bridges there; and the people shewed them steps almost -between every door, of the sculls of sheeps-heads, which they used -as stepping-stones. The second was a little country village between -Stirling and Perth, called Auchterardoch,[206] where there is a -large strand which runs through the middle of the town, and almost -at every door there is a long stock or stone laid over the strand, -whereupon they pass to their opposite neighbours, and when a flood -came, they would lift their wooden bridges, in case they should be -taken away, and these they called their draw-bridges. The third was -a village called Cambusbarron, which they pass through from one end -to the other, but there was not a stair in it all; so they returned -to England, and told what manner of bone and draw-bridges they -were: and how there was not a stair in all that place, therefore no -man could run in below it. - -As George was on the road travelling to London, the weather being -very rainy and cold, he alighted at an inn to refresh and warm -himself; but the fire-side was so surrounded with people, he could -scarce see the fire: George finding this to be the case calls to -the hostler, and orders to give his horse at the door half a peck -of oysters: You mean oats, Sir: No, no, says George, it is oysters; -and base is that horse, that will not eat oysters. The people at -the fire hearing this, all started up and ran to the door to see -the horse eating oysters: the moment they left their seats, George -took an opportunity to plant himself before the fire, with a table -and a cloth beside him. In a little they came back again, one by -one, saying, This horse will eat no oysters: Well, well, says -George, he is either too full, or too saucy; so you may bring them -in, and I will eat them myself.[207] - - * * * * * - -Now George being old, and highly advanced in years; finding his -natural strength and state of health daily decaying, he petitioned -king James to let him return to Scotland, for to visit his -friends, and land of his nativity; which he most willingly granted, -(not knowing his design was never to return) for George had a great -desire to resign his soul and breath in that place of the world, -where he received them; and that his body and bones might be laid -among his ancestors, which was counted a great honour in former -ages. - -So accordingly George came to the parish of Buchanan, in the west -of Scotland, where he visited all his friends and relations before -his death, during which time the king sent several messages to him -to return in all the haste he could; but he absolutely refused, -telling him, that he would never see him again: which grieved the -king very much to hear him express himself in that manner. After -this, the king sent him a letter, threatening him very sharply, if -he did not appear in London in the space of twenty days, he would -send his lyon heralds with a party, who would bring him to London, -whether he would or not. Unto which, as an answer, George sent him -a famous letter of admonition, both anent the government of his -kingdoms, and the well being of his soul, which caused the king to -weep very bitterly, when he read it over, with the following verse: - - My honour’d liege, and sovereign king, - Of your boasting great, I dread nothing: - On your feud or favour I’ll fairly venture: - E’er that day I’ll be where few kings will enter. - - -FINIS. - - - - -GLOSSARY. - - - A - - _Ae_, _ane_, _ain_, one. - - _A-bizin_, making a hissing noise, such as hot iron does in water. - - _Ables_, perhaps, mayhap. - - _Amry_, a cupboard or press. - - _Assoilzied_, acquitted. - - _A-thort_, along, across, about. - - _Auld Nick_, a familiar name for the Devil. - - _Aught_, possession. - - - B - - _Babee_, a copper coin of the value of a halfpenny sterling, also - applied to the English coin. The word is derived from the - French _bas-piece_, base money; though many believed it had - its original in the fact that during the minority of James VI. - coins with the effigy of the ‘baby’ king were issued. - - _Badrons_, a cat. - - _Baggity_, greedy. - - _Baist_, great. - - _Balk_, _bauk_, crossbeam in roof of a house; _hen-bauk_, the beam - where the fowls roosted, generally above the doorway. - - _Bane-kame_, a dust-comb. - - _Banning_, swearing. - - _Bannock_, a thick oatmeal cake; sometimes a scone. - - _Bannock-stane_, a stone used for supporting the girdle on the fire. - - _Bap_, a kind of scone, baked with yeast, generally lozenge-shaped. - - _Barronry_, barony. - - _Bear_, barley. - - _Beek’d_, warmed, heated by the sun. - - _Be-go_, not an uncommon exclamation; probably a chewed oath. - - _Begunk_, a cheat, a deception, properly a verb, but used as a noun - at p. 61, vol ii. - - _Belling_, bubbling up like soapy water. - - _Beltane_, the 1st of May, when, in the olden times, fires were - lighted in honour of the god Bel, or Baal. Many superstitious - observances lingered in this country until a century ago; and - in some districts they are still celebrated in a covert way. - (_Vide_ Shaw’s _Hist. Prov. Moray_.) - - _Belyve_, by and bye, in a short time. - - _Besom_, a brush or broom. - - _Bicker_, a cup. - - _Bide_, to stay, to endure. - - _Bilchy_, strong, lusty. - - _Bill_, a bull. - - _Bittock_, a little bit, a short distance. - - _Birr_, to make a whirring noise. - - _Bizing_, v. _a-bizing_. - - _Bladdering_, blethering, talking. - - _Blate_, bashful. - - _Blawirt_, the blue bottle plant, also known as witch-bells. - - _Bleds_, blaids. - - _Bletchers_, bleachers. - - _Blewflum_, a sham. - - _Bobet_, danced. - - _Bock_, to vomit. - - _Boggle_, a spectre or ghost. - - _Bone-comb_, a dust-comb, so called from being made of bone instead - of horn. - - _Boss_, empty; also, a vacancy. - - _Bottle_, a sheaf. - - _Bouk_, bulk. - - _Bookie_, bulky. - - _Boul-horn’d_, obstinate. - - _Bow_, a boll. - - _Bowed_, bent. - - _Bow-kail_, kail or broth made with cabbage; also, a cabbage. - - _Bowster_, a bolster. - - _Brattle_, to make a clattering noise. - - _Bray_, to grind. - - _Brewket_, or _Brucket_, black and white streaked or spotted. - - _Brizel’d_, bruised. - - _Brochan_, thin oatmeal porridge. - - _Brocket_, v. _Brewket_. - - _Brogged_, pierced. - - _Broe_, soup. - - _Brogue_, a trick. - - _Bublie-cock_, a turkey. - - _Buckie_, a spiral shell. - - _Bucking_, pushing, butting, fighting. - - _Buckle_, to marry. - - _Buckled_, married. - - _Bun_, bound. - - _Bute_, behoved. - - _But and ben_, the outer and inner apartments of a house. - - _Bystart_, bastard. - - - C - - _Caddled_, upturned, disordered. - - _Caff-cog_, chaff-dish. - - _Callan_, _Callen_, a boy, a young man. - - _Caller_, fresh. - - _Can’as_, canvas. - - _Cannilie_, easily, gently. - - _Cankerd_, cross, ill-natured. - - _Cantrips_, charms, spells. - - _Cap_, a wooden bowl. - - _Capstride_, to cheat; originally, to drink out of one’s place in - company when the loving-cup was going round. - - _Carle_, an old man. - - _Carlin_, _carline_, an old woman. - - _Cat and Dog_, a boy’s game. It is also known as _cat and bat_. - Jamieson suggests it was an early form of cricket. It is still - common, and in the summer season boys may be seen playing at it - in any village in Scotland. - - _Chafts_, cheeks, jaws. - - _Chaft-blades_, cheek or jaw bones. - - _Channering_, fretting. - - _Chappen_, a quart measure. - - _Cheek_, side. - - _Cheek for chow_, side by side. - - _Chiel_, _chield_, a servant, a young man. - - _Chirten and chappen_, pressing and knocking. - - _Chuckies_, hens. - - _Claes_, clothes. - - _Clarty_, dirty. - - _Clash_, idle talk, gossip. - - _Clatter_, talk. - - _Clawing_, scratching, rubbing. - - _Cleavings_, the lower part of the human body. - - _Clipock_, a name given to a sharp-tongued woman, descriptive of her - failing. - - _Clout_, a cloth; also, a knock. - - _Clukny_, a hen. - - _Clungest_, emptiest. - - _Clutes_, hoofs, feet. - - _Cobletehow_, probably hot-pressed in a fanciful way. - - _Cod_, a pillow. - - _Cogbonie_, _cogboin_, a little wooden trough for feeding sheep or - swine. - - _Colly-shangy_, uproar, disturbance. - - _Corse_, a cross, market place. - - _Corse-claiths_, burial clothes. - - _Couper_, a seller of horses or cattle. (v. _Introduction_, vol. 1., - p. 70.) - - _Coupt_, tumbled. - - _Couties_, colts. - - _Cow_, to poll the head. - - _Cracks_, talk, conversation. - - _Creim_, a booth or shop. - - _Crish_, grease. - - _Crocket_, croaked. - - _Cronoch_, a dirge, or death lamentation. - - _Crouse_, courageous, brisk, lively. - - _Crowdie_, gruel made of meal stirred in cold water. - - _Curpen_, the crupper, the rump. - - _Curple_, the crupper. - - _Culli’d_, coaxed, cajoled. - - _Cumstrarie_, perverse. - - _Cupple-balk_, a rafter, v. _balk_. - - _Curch_, to bend or move. - - _Curr’d_, crouched. - - _Curroch_, a small basket carriage. - - _Cusser_, a stallion. - - _Cussen_, cast. - - _Cutties_, spoons. - - - D - - _Daddy_, father. - - _Dadeling_, slovenly. - - _Dadet_, struck, knocked. - - _Daffing_, sporting, fun. - - _Daft_, silly, stupid, giddy. - - _Dale_, a long piece or deal of wood. - - _Daly_, silly, dressed up like a doll. - - _Dearth_, high price. - - _Dighting_, cleaning, wiping, dressing. - - _Ding_, to knock. - - _Dinging_, knocking. - - _Docus_, stupid, easily led. - - _Dods_, ill-humour, sulks. - - _Doil’d_, crazy, silly, in dotage. - - _Doit_, an old Scotch coin, equal to a penny Scots, or the twelfth - part of an English penny; the word is used to signify - worthlessness or extreme poverty. - - _Dorder-meat_, a bannock given to farm servants after stopping their - work, to stay their appetite until supper time; also a meal of - any kind. - - _Douce_, sedate, modest, quiet. - - _Douked_, ducked, as in water. - - _Doup_, the bottom of anything. - - _Dows_, pigeons, doves. - - _Dradgey_, a funeral, also the feasting accompanying it. - - _Dramack_, _Drummock_, oatmeal and cold water mixed. - - _Drouket_, drenched, wet to the skin. - - _Druggit_, a kind of coarse cloth. - - _Drummel’d_, made muddy, troubled. - - _Dubs_, pools, gutters. - - _Duds_, rags. - - _Duddy_, ragged. - - _Dufe_, a simpleton. - - _Duket_, a dovecot. - - _Dunting and Dangling_, knocking and swinging. - - _Dwallion_, a dwelling. - - - E - - _Earding_, burying. - - _Eerock_, a chicken. - - _Elf-shot_, shot by fairies, or the disease produced by the injury, - bewitched. - - _Ell_, a measure equal to three feet nine inches. - - _Elshin_, a shoemaker’s awl. - - _Elwand_, a wooden cloth measure, the length of an ell. - - _Even_, to equal, or compare. - - - F - - _Fair strae death_, a death in the common course of nature. - - _Fairing_, a present given at a fair, a present generally. - - _Fake_, a sight, vision. - - _Farl_, an oatmeal cake. - - _Fash_, trouble, bother. - - _Fashious_, troublesome. - - _Fashing_, troubling. - - _Fastern’s-e’en_, the evening before the first day of Lent; - Shrove-Tuesday. Its annual return was made the occasion of many - superstitious observances. - - _Fealins_, failings. - - _Fecket_, an undershirt or waistcoat made of flannel or worsted. - - _Feckless_, weak, poor-spirited. - - _Feif-titty_, thief-sister. - - _Feike_, screw, force. - - _Fey_, try. - - _Fied_, feed, engaged. - - _Figs_, a petty oath. - - _Fint_, _feint_, an interjection probably derived from the word - ‘fiend.’ - - _Flighter_, an unsteady, high-flown person. - - _Fitting_, scolding. - - _Fluke_, a flounder, or flat fish of any kind. - - _Flyte_, to scold. - - _Forfoughen_, exhausted, fatigued. - - _Forjesket_, jaded; also, disreputable. - - _Fornent_, opposite, or concerning. - - _Freit_, _frit_, a superstition; also, a charm against evil. - - _Fule haet_, very little. - - _Fundred_, foundered. - - _Furich_, bustle, haste, hurry. - - _Furlat_, _furlet_, four pecks, a quarter of a boll. - - _Futer_, a silly, useless person. - - _Fyking_, troublesome, restless. - - - G - - _Gabbie_, dimin. of _Gab_, the mouth. - - _Gaits_, goats. - - _Gamon_, nonsense. - - _Gate_, way, road. - - _Gaun-gear_, live stock. - - _Gaunting_, yawning. - - _Gartan_, a garter. - - _Gavel_, gable. - - _Gear_, stock, possessions. - - _Geid_, gave. - - _Gemlet_, gimlet. - - _Gigglet_, wanton. - - _Gilly-gawkie_, _gilliegaukie_, a foolish woman. - - _Gimmer_, a young woman. - - _Girning_, fretful, petted. - - _Girth_, saddle strap. - - _Glaied_, _gly’d_, squint-eyed. - - _Glam_, to snatch. - - _Glaket_, foolish, light-headed. - - _Goodman_, the master of a house. - - _Goodum_, _guddame_, grandmother. - - _Goodwife_, the mistress of a house. - - _Gouls_, souls. - - _Gourd_, gorged, swelled. - - _Gowke_, the cuckoo; to _hunt the gowke_ is to go on a foolish and - fruitless errand. - - _Groats_, oats with the husks taken off. - - _Grunkie_, a name applied to a pig. - - _Gruzling_, grunting and boring for food as a sow does with its - snout. - - _Guidame_, v. _Goodum_. - - _Gule-fitted_, yellow-footed. - - _Gut_, the gout. - - _Gutcher_, a grandfather; generally, forefathers. - - _Gullie_, a large knife. - - - H - - _Haf-gate_, half-way. - - _Hag_, an old woman. - - _Hagwife_, a midwife. - - _Hail yerts_, whole years. - - _Haining_, saving, sparing. - - _Hallen_, the square space in the doorway of a country house. - - _Hally-band_, the kirk session. - - _Hamsheughs_, a disturbance; also, a misfortune. - - _Hantle_, a considerable number. - - _Harle_, a quantity; also, to draw or pull violently. - - _Harn_, coarse pack-sheet. - - _Harnes_, brains. - - _Hate_, _haet_, a small quantity. - - _Hatter_, a rash. - - _Haverel_, a foolish talker. - - _Heads and thraws_, lying alternately, heads and feet, like herring - in a barrel. - - _Heckle_, a hook, a weaver’s comb. - - _Herie_, a word used by married people towards each other, - equivalent to ‘my dear.’ - - _Herns_, v. _harns_. - - _Heugh_, the shaft-head of a coal-pit. - - _Hillocat_, _hillocket_, giddy, hair-brained. - - _Hinderlets_, hind parts. - - _Hirpling_, halting, walking slowly and painfully. - - _Hizzy_, a girl, a huzzy. - - _Hobble_, to dandle on the knee, an awkward style of walking, a - state of perplexity. - - _Hodden-grey_, undyed woollen cloth. - - _Hoddled_, waddled. - - _Hoiting_, following, running. - - _Hotchen_, swarming. - - _Houdie_, _howdy_, a midwife. - - _Houghed_, hamstrung. - - _Hows_, hollows. - - _Huggers_, stocking legs. - - _Humeld_, without horns. - - _Hurdies_, buttocks. - - _Hurl_, noise, force. - - - I - - _Ill-far’d_, ill-looking, ugly. - - _Imock-powder_, powder made of the shells of ants’ eggs. - - - J - - _Jamf_, _jamph_, to make sport of, to torment. - - _Jimcrack_, a knock. - - - K - - _Kail_, vegetable broth. - - _Kankert_, ill-natured. - - _Keb_, jump at, be glad of. - - _Kebbock_, a large cheese. - - _Keckle_, to cackle. - - _Keek_, to look slyly, or pryingly. - - _Kill-kebber_, a support for a kiln. - - _Kil-logie_, an open space before a kiln fire. - - _Kimmer_, a gossip, or neighbour. - - _Kite_, the stomach. - - _Kittle_, to tickle; also, difficult. - - _Knocking-stane_, a stone mortar, on which the hulls were broken off - the barley with a mallet. - - _Knoist_, a lump. - - _Kuddle_, to fondle, caress. - - _Kye_, cows. - - - L - - _Laddock_, diminutive of lad. - - _Lade_, a load. - - _Lammas_, the 1st of August. - - _Lang-gae_, the phrase, ‘before lang gae,’ signifies simply, before - long. - - _Lang-lonen_, all alone. - - _Laveruck_, a lark. - - _Leepet_, thin, meagre. - - _Lenno_, thread-gauze. - - _Leuch_, laughed. - - _Libby_, properly _lippie_, a quarter of a peck. - - _Libbet_, castrated. - - _Lift_, the sky. - - _Lingle_, a shoemaker’s thread; also, a bandage. - - _Lingle-tailed_, applied to a woman wearing misfitting clothes. - - _Lint_, flax. - - _Litster_, a dyer. - - _Litted_, dyed. - - _Logie_, v. _kil-logie_. - - _Loup_, to jump. - - _Louting_, bending. - - _Lufe_, the palm of the hand. - - _Lugs_, the ears. - - _Lum_, a chimney. - - - M - - _Maeslie-shanket_, probably a reference to bowed legs. - - _Maggs_, a halfpenny; also a gratuity. - - _Masket_, infused. - - _Mauk_, a maggot. - - _Mauky_, maggoty. - - _Mauken_, a hare. - - _Maumier_, mellower, sweeter, pleasanter. - - _Mavis_, the thrush. - - _Mawing_, mewing. - - _Maw-turned_, sick, squeamish. - - _Mense_, discretion, good manners. - - _Mensefu’_, discreet, well-bred. - - _Merk_, an old Scottish silver coin, equal to thirteenpence and - one-third of a penny, sterling. - - _Mevis_, v. _Mavis_. - - _Mill_, a snuff-box. - - _Mim_, prim, demure, prudish. - - _Minny_, mother. - - _Mirk_, dark. - - _Mow_, a heap. - - _Mules_, the ‘mools,’ the grave. - - - N - - _Neb_, a beak; in a ludicrous sense, the nose. - - _Neist_, next, nearest. - - _Neuk_, _nuik_, a corner. - - _Nidity nod_, shaking, bobbing up and down. - - _Nossack_, a good drop. - - - O - - _O’ercome_, overplus. - - _Ouk_, _oulk_, _uk_, a week. - - _Oxter_, the armpit. - - - P - - _Packshon_, bargain, agreement. - - _Padock_, _puddock_, a frog. - - _Paid_, _pait_, drubbed. - - _Partan_, a crab. - - _Peck_, a dry measure containing two gallons. - - _Pickle_, a small quantity. - - _Pig_, _pigg_, an earthenware vessel. - - _Pillonian_, a kind of coarse blue cloth. - - _Pinging_, whining, complaining. - - _Piping het_, boiling hot. - - _Pirn_, a reel for winding thread or yarn. - - _Pisweip_, a lapwing. - - _Plack_, a small copper coin, worth one-third of a penny, sterling. - - _Plash_, to wet; ‘wet to plash,’ thoroughly drenched. - - _Plotted_, scalded. - - _Podle_, a tadpole. - - _Port_, a gate, as of a town. - - _Pow_, the head. - - _Pownie_, a name given to a turkey-hen. See _note_ to p. 52, - vol. ii. - - _Prat_, a trick. - - _Prik’t_, fastened, pinned. - - _Prin_, a pin. - - _Prute-no_, an expression of contempt. - - _Puddock_, v. _padock_. - - _Pund_, a pound Scots, equivalent to one shilling and eightpence, - sterling. - - _Purpey_, purple. - - _Pyet_, piebald. - - _Pyking_, poking. - - - Q - - _Quean_, a young woman; sometimes used in a bad sense. - - - R - - _Raird_, a noise, a roar. - - _Raisins_, necessities. - - _Rake_ (of water, or coals), as much as can be carried at one time. - - _Rash-rape_, a rope made of rushes. - - _Rattle-scul_, one who talks without thinking. - - _Ratton_, a rat. - - _Red_, _redd_, to put in order. - - _Red-wood_, mad, in a violent rage. - - _Reeking_, well ordered. - - _Reinge_, to clear out, to rinse. - - _Retour_, return, as the return journey of a coach. - - _Rift_, an eructation. - - _Rifting_, belching. - - _Rigget_, striped. - - _Rigging_, the roof of a house, the human head in a ludicrous sense. - - _Ripples_, a weakness in the back and reins. - - _Rippling-kame_, a flax-comb. - - _Rive_, to tear. - - _Rolloching_, outspoken. - - _Rout_, to bellow; also, a blow. - - _Rowt_, assembled. - - _Royte_, a noisy animal. - - _Ruddoch_, a contemptuous name for an old woman. - - _Rugh_, rough. - - _Runkly_, wrinkly. - - _Runt_, the stalk of a vegetable, such as a cabbage. - - - S - - _Saep_, soap. - - _Sandle_, the sand-ell or sand-lance. - - _Sannock Garner_, probably a familiar name for the devil. - - _Saugh_, the willow. - - _Scart_, to scratch or scrape. - - _Scorn_, to torment, to rally. - - _Scour_, to clean out. - - _Scour’d_, ran quickly. - - _Scride_, to scrape, as the bow on the strings of the violin. - - _Sculdudery_, immorality. - - _Sculls_, wicker baskets, such as are used by fishers. - - _Scunnert_, disgusted. - - _Scythed_, shot quickly. - - _Sea-cat_, the sea-wolf or wolf-fish. - - _Sea-dog_, the seal. - - _Servet_, a table-napkin. - - _Shap_, a cod, as a pea-cod. - - _Sheavling_, distorting. - - _Shern_, cattle ordure. - - _Shevelin_, walking unsteadily. - - _Shough_, _slough_, moss. - - _Shule_, shovel. - - _Shure_, sure. - - _Sickerly_, firmly, surely. - - _Sikes_, the phrase, ‘flay the sikes,’ means to give a good beating. - - _Sinsyne_, since. - - _Skail’d_, dispersed. - - _Skaith_, harm. - - _Skein_, a length of worsted or thread. - - _Skellat_, a small bell used by town criers. - - _Skelped_, struck. - - _Skirl’d_, cried, screamed. - - _Slag_, a small quantity. - - _Slung_, a sling, a throw. - - _Snishing_, snuff. - - _Snoaking_, prying, smelling about like a dog. - - _Soncy_, plump, well-conditioned. - - _Soughing_, a rushing sound. - - _Souse_, _sosse_, the fall of a soft body, to throw one’s self into - a seat. - - _Soup_, a mouthful, a spoonful. - - _Sowens_, flummery, made of the dust oatmeal remaining among the - seeds, steeped and soured. - - _Spanged_, leaped, jumped. - - _Spaul_, limb. - - _Speir’d_, asked. - - _Spence_, a larder, the parlour of a country house. - - _Spence, to_, used to denote ‘the bedding.’ - - _Spout_, drink. - - _Spout-fish_, the razor-fish. - - _Sprittled_, speckled. - - _Spruch_, spruce, smart. - - _Spue_, to vomit. - - _Spunkie_, Will-o’-the-Wisp. - - _Squattle_, to drink greedily. - - _Stark_, strong. - - _Stay_, _stey_, steep, difficult. - - _Steighling_, crowding, cramming. - - _Sticket_, stopped; as, ‘a sticket minister,’ a man who has failed - or been stopped in his studies for the ministry. - - _Stirk_, a young bull. - - _Stirra_, a stout, romping boy. - - _Stively_, stoutly, firmly. - - _Stock_, a stalk. - - _Stot_, to stagger. - - _Stoup_, a deep and narrow wooden vessel for holding water. - - _Sugh_, to breathe heavily. - - _Sumf_, _sumph_, a stupid, silly fellow; a blockhead. - - _Sunks_, a saddle. - - _Supple_, the part of a flail that strikes the grain. - - _Sutter_, _sutor_, a shoemaker. - - _Swabing_, a beating. - - _Swats_, small beer. - - _Sweith_, an interjection signifying ‘be quick, make haste.’ - - _Syne_, after that, then. - - - T - - _Tadder_, a tether, a hawser. - - _Taupie_, _tawpie_, a foolish woman. - - _Tent_, care. - - _Theckit_, thatched. - - _Thole_, to bear. - - _Thraple_, throat. - - _Tirlie-whirlie_, any ornament, a whirligig. - - _Tirr’d_, unroofed. - - _Tocher_, a dowry. - - _Tod-lowrie_, a name given to the fox. - - _Toom_, empty. - - _Tost_, an application. - - _Totum_, a very small person. - - _Touting_, blowing, sounding. - - _Toy_, a linen or woollen head-dress, which hangs down over the - shoulders. - - _Trykle_, treacle. - - _Tug_, a hawser. - - _Tullie_, a quarrel. - - _Tut_, an expression of contempt, equivalent to ‘pshaw’. - - _Tyke_, a dog. - - - U - - _Uk_, _uke_, v. _ouk_. - - _Unco_, strange, unusual, very. - - _Unfiery_, unsteady, infirm. - - - V - - _Veals_, calves. - - - W - - _Wale_, to choose. - - _Wallop_, to leap; also, to beat. - - _Wally_, large, fine, ample. - - _Wame_, the belly, the stomach. - - _Wammel_, to move awkwardly. - - _Water-wag-tail_, the bird called the wag-tail, or motacilla. - - _Waught_, a drink. - - _Wauker_, a fuller. - - _Webster_, _wabster_, a weaver. - - _Whaken_, large, overflowing. - - _Whalpie_, a puppy. - - _Whalp_, to whelp. - - _Wheen_, _whin_, a number. - - _Whiltie-whaltie_, a state of palpitation; to play pit-a-pat. - - _Whinge_, to whine, lament. - - _Whit_, a jag or prick. - - _Widdling_, waddling. - - _Widdyfu’_, one who deserves to fill a _widdy_ or halter, a romp. - - _Wierd_, fate. - - _Winnle_, an instrument used by women for winding yarn. - - _Win_, dwell, reside. - - _Wirry_, to strangle, to worry. - - _Wood_, _wud_, furious with rage, mad. - - _Wyfe_, to whiff. - - _Wyles_, caution. - - _Wylie_, a kind of flannel used for vests and petticoats. - - _Wyte_, blame. - - - Y - - _Yeal_, old, barren. - - _Yearning-bag_, a bag containing the stomach of a calf, used for - making milk curdle. - - _Yeltow_, a chewed oath. - - _Yence_, once. - - _Yerdet_, buried. - - _Yird_, the earth, the grave. - - _Youdeth_, youth. - - _Youket_, coupled, married. - - _Yule_, latterly Christmas, but formerly the name given to an annual - feast in honour of Odin. - - _Yule_, _youl_, to howl like a dog. - - -THE END. - - -_Printed by H. Nisbet & Co., 38 Stockwell Street, Glasgow._ - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] A custom not uncommon in Scotland at the present day among the -working classes. Boys, when making a bargain, wet their thumbs and -place them on each other as a token of good faith. Something of -this kind may be found in the old song:-- - - ‘Though kith and kin and a’ should revile thee, - There’s my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.’ - -[2] In Scotland, in the olden time, forty days were allowed to -elapse after the proclamation of the banns, during which time -objectors to the marriage might come forward. The session clerk -had placed in his hands a sum of money as security for the -solemnisation of the marriage; and one had to be found to stand as -surety that the parties would not cohabit before they obtained the -sanction of the church. - -[3] The ‘providing’ has always been regarded as an important item -of the marriage arrangements. Perhaps the earliest account of the -possessions of contracting parties is to be found in the song, ‘The -Wowing of Jok and Jynny,’ supposed to have been written before the -Reformation. - -[4] In modern editions of this chap-book the first part ends with -the sentence:--‘So this disturbed a’ the diversion at Jockey’s -bedding, and the sky was beginning to break in the east before the -hurly-burley was over.’ - -[5] The usual name for the village bellman throughout Scotland. - -[6] Jockey had been guilty of an offence which, had he lived a -century earlier, might have brought about imprisonment by the civil -power, in addition to his seat on the ‘cock-stool.’ Even about the -middle of last century the penalties were severe, and the disgrace -was considered great. Feeling in the matter, however, seemed to be -more prompted by a fear of consequences than by true morality. Dr. -Rogers, in _Scotland Social and Domestic_, p. 311, thus explains -the legal position of presbyteries and kirk-sessions in regard -to such matters--‘At the Reformation, Presbyterian judicatories -proceeded to occupy the position of Consistory Courts. They took -cognisance of offences precisely similar, with the exception -of such as “speaking evil of saints” and “the non-payment of -offerings,” or those which bore direct reference to the Catholic -faith. Under the Presbyterian system, the kirk-session exercised -the functions of the Archdeacon’s Commissary, and Presbyterian -Synods and the General Assembly formed an appellate jurisdiction -similar to that which was exercised by the Archdeacons and Bishops -and the Archbishops of St. Andrews.’ - -[7] The stool was placed in front of the pulpit, in full view of -the congregation. In some parishes the culprits were allowed to -sit, but in most cases they had to stand. - -[8] The ‘sacken sark’ had a variety of names, such as ‘the harden -gown,’ ‘the sack gown,’ ‘the harn gown,’ and ‘the linen.’ Each -parish was supposed to have one of these habits: and in 1655 the -sum of £4 4 6 Scots was expended by the kirk-session of Lesmahagow -in the purchase of one. A specimen of the ‘sacken sark’ may be seen -in the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries in Edinburgh. - -[9] A fine paid to the Kirk-Session, who distributed it, with the -other moneys in their possession, among the poor of the parish. See -the second part of _The History of Buckhaven_, where the culprit is -made to pay ‘four pound and a groat,’ probably Scots money, equal -to about seven shillings sterling. - -[10] The following paragraph concludes the second part in modern -editions:--‘Now Jockey and his mither went into the little byre -and held a private meeting, nane present but auld Bruckie and the -twa Brutes, the bits of couties, that she might give him counsel -how to behave when he appeared before Mess John, to answer for his -bastard; which concludes the third and last part.’ The ‘third and -last part’ in these editions, however, fails to carry the story to -its proper issue, and only gives a very summary account of Jockey -on the cutty-stool. - -[11] Ante-nuptial fornication--‘on the terms of marriage’--was -lamentably common, but in such cases the law of the church, while -duly put in force, was considerably relaxed in its severity, if -marriage followed. - -[12] The civil authorities were frequently called upon to give -effect to church censures. In the seventeenth century sentence of -excommunication practically carried with it all the pains of civil -outlawry; but in 1690 an Act of the Estates abrogated the civil -consequences of the sentence. - -[13] Milled oats, or oats with the husks taken off. - -[14] This is rather an original account of the rise and progress of -the black-stool: but it would be difficult to say how far history -supports it. In a chap-book printed in 1776 under the title of -‘An Account of the General Assembly’s Invention for the final -Extirpation of the Black-stool of Repentance and the Sackcloth Gown -out of the Kirk of Scotland: proposing a new and easy method of -punishing sporting ladies,’ a similar account is given of the stool. - -[15] The Church rule on the point here brought out by Mess John -may be illustrated by an enactment passed by the Kirk Session of -Glasgow in 1591, which bore that those desirous of entering the -conjugal state had to repeat the ten commandments, the articles -of faith, and the Lord’s prayer. If the candidates could not -pass the examination they were declared unworthy of being joined -in marriage, and were liable to censure. A few days after this -decree had been issued, the Session prohibited a marriage until -the bridegroom had learned his task. The Presbytery of Glasgow, in -1594, prohibited a marriage because the bridegroom was ‘in greit -debt.’ - -[16] Suspension from church privileges for a time, until they -showed signs of repentance. - -[17] The beginning of the New Year, or Yule, festivities. - -[18] The ordinary mode of travelling long distances. Country women -were then good horse-women. - -[19] A superstition long prevalent, and scarcely yet eradicated in -some parts of Scotland. The mother was not safe from the power of -fairies until she had been ‘kirk’t,’ and the child, until baptised, -was in danger of being carried away by them, a changeling being -substituted in its stead. Jockey’s mother seems to have had a -touch of the same superstition when she spoke of the difference -between a child and a dog--‘A dog is a brute beast, an’ a wean is a -christen’d creature.’ - -[20] The custom in Scotland was to have a number of the neighbours -along with the members of the family. - -[21] Young women, besides providing their bridal clothes before -their marriage, frequently spun their winding sheet immediately -after that event. Flora Macdonald carried about with her, -throughout all her wanderings after her liberation in 1747, the -sheet in which Prince Charles had lain at Kingsburgh’s house in -Skye, with the intention that it should be her shroud. And so it -was. - -[22] These were not the days of hearses. The common people never -thought of a carriage, and, indeed, it was only at the funerals of -the nobility that hearses were to be seen. Usually the coffin was -taken to the grave on wooden bars, called ‘spaiks,’ borne by the -mourners, who, if the journey were long, relieved each other. - -[23] The eating and drinking long prevalent at funerals was -something marvellous, and on more than one occasion it is recorded -that mourners separated in confusion and ill-feeling. At the -funeral of Sir Hugh Campbell of Calder, in March, 1716, nearly -£70 sterling were spent in meat and drink alone, and when the -difference in the value of money is taken into consideration the -sum must appear large. In 1704, Lord Whitelaw, a Senator of the -College of Justice, was buried at the expense of £5189 Scots, or -£432 8s. 4d. sterling, which meant more than two years’ salary as a -judge. - -[24] At births it was customary--and still is under a modified -form--to hand round ‘blythe-meat’ to all visitors. - -[25] Another name for the stool of repentance. - -[26] A colloquialism. The meaning is--‘You must not kiss any woman -_other than_ your own wife.’ - -[27] A witticism for whitings or haddocks. Dunbar has from an early -period been one of the leading ports on the east coast fishing -grounds. - -[28] It would be difficult to say how the herring caught in Loch -Fyne came to be called ‘Glasgow Magistrates.’ The name is still -applied to them. - -[29] One way of putting an old Scottish proverb. Henderson’s -reading of it is:--‘There ne’er was a silly Jockey but what there -was a silly Jenny.’ - -[30] In some modern editions the word ‘jaw’ is inserted instead of -‘jamf,’ or, as it is sometimes spelled ‘jamph.’ - -[31] Probably Prestonpans, famous for fishers and potters, and for -its battle-field. - -[32] In Morren’s edition of this chap-book, published in Edinburgh -in the early years of the present century, the word here used -is ‘keckling,’ meaning to laugh, or, more properly, to ‘smirk.’ -‘Keckling’ seems the more likely word. - -[33] Another reading of the old saying--‘The deil catch the -hindmost.’ - -[34] This can hardly be taken literally. Possibly what is meant is -‘powsee,’ a small fresh haddock. - -[35] In some later editions the description of Sawny is made more -complete by the insertion, in this place, of the following:--‘and -an auld creeshy hat, mair like a fryingpan than any thing else.’ - -[36] Taverns and eating-houses were frequently, in east-coast -towns, on the ‘sunk-flat,’ access to them being gained by a flight -of steps down from the foot-pavement. Several such shops may still -be seen in the old town of Edinburgh, in the vicinity of the High -Street and Canongate. - -[37] The women about fishing communities differed, and do still, -from their sisters further inland, regarding house-work, or -‘husband-work.’ Matty’s opinion is a fair reflection of the ideas -of her class. A further expression is given to this feeling in _The -History of Buckhaven_, where Graham, describing the people about -whom he was writing, says:--‘They kept but little communication -with the country people, for a farmer, in those days, thought -his daughter cast awa if she married one of the fishers in -Bucky-harbour, and Witty Eppie the ale-wife wad a sworn, be go’ -laddie, I wad rather see my boat and a’ my three sons upset against -the Bass, or I saw are o’ them married on a muck-a-byre’s daughter, -a wheen useles taupies that can do naething but rive at a tow rock -[spin], and cut corn; they can neither bait a hook nor red a line, -hook sandles nor gather periwinkles.’ - -[38] An old stocking leg, in which it was the custom of old women -to sew up whatever savings they might have been able to make, and -generally hidden away in some odd corner. Some of these ‘hoggers’ -have been known to be very substantial. Even yet, now that banks -are everywhere, the simile is kept up, though the stocking leg has -fallen into disuse for banking purposes. Some persons speak about -‘laying by for a sair fit.’ - -[39] The beginning of the paragraph reads this way in Morren’s -edition:--‘On this Sawny paid their spout and parted.’ That seems -the more likely way of it, for later on Sawny speaks of courting -being ‘a curst wark and _costly_.’ - -[40] Sawny’s mother, besides showing herself well acquainted with -the wise saws of her native country, further exhibits her belief -in witchcraft. In this she was not singular. After a long crusade -against witches, the minds of the better educated classes became -somewhat enlightened on the subject, and Parliament, in 1735, -revoked the penal statutes against sorcery. Many of the ministers -regarded this act as a national sin, and said it was contrary to -the express law of God. John Wesley, it may be remembered, said -that to give up belief in witchcraft was, in effect, giving up the -Bible. - -[41] Morren’s edition reads ‘milk cows’ here; while a later issue -has ‘cow’s milks.’ The only satisfactory one is Morren’s. - -[42] One of a set of Scottish proverbs showing the disregard of -Scots in bygone days for all sanitary considerations. Two proverbs -having a similar bearing are--‘The clartier the cosier,’ and ‘The -mair dirt the less hurt.’ - -[43] In some editions the word ‘crust’ is substituted for ‘cufe.’ -Certainly it is more likely. - -[44] Penny weddings have been immortalised by Semple of Beltrees -in his song _The Blythsome Bridal_. Originally, pennies were -contributed by those present, and any overplus, after providing for -the wedding feast, went towards assisting the young couple in their -furnishing. Latterly, the neighbours sent in eatables of various -kinds, the bride’s friends only preparing one dish, the ‘bride’s -pie,’ the equivalent to the ‘bride’s-cake’ of modern days. As with -the cake, so with the pie, every one present received a piece. -The marriage ceremony was generally celebrated at the manse, and -the wedding festivities took place in the bride’s house. These -festivities some times lasted several days--see, for example, -Ramsay’s addition to _Christ’s Kirk on the Green_, by James I.--and -were productive of serious irregularities. Ultimately the Church -made an effort to regulate them, but with little effect. - -[45] That is, by failing to pay the Kirk dues. There was the money -for the ‘cries,’ or banns, which was in itself a respectable sum, -and a variety of other payments, which made marriage an expensive -affair. The minister was given a small acknowledgment for his -services; but now-a-days it is usual, instead, to make a present of -a satin hat, a pair of gloves, a comforter, or such like. - -[46] A ‘magg’ is a synonym for the cant term ‘maik,’ a halfpenny; -but in the text it is used in the sense of ‘a gratuity,’ such as -has been referred to in the previous note. - -[47] Portion of an old song, long popular among the Scottish -peasantry. It bore the name of ‘For the Sake of Somebody,’ and is -believed to have suggested Burns’ song with the same title. The old -song is to be found in _The Tea-Table Miscellany_; and there the -last four lines of the first double stanza are:-- - - ‘I am gawn to seek a wife, - I am gawn to buy a plaidy; - I have three stane of woo; - Carling, is thy daughter ready?’ - -[48] An indication of the derivation of the word ‘spinster.’ Kate, -like most Scotch women, had the idea that her marriage could hardly -take place until she had her ‘providing.’ There was something more -than mere sentiment about this, for owing to the hard struggle -married couples had to exist in a poor and undeveloped country, -such as Scotland then was, it was probable that the bride would -have little chance of getting such a complete set out after, as -before, marriage. - -[49] Sawny seems to have been guided in his wooing by the old -Scotch proverb:--‘Happy is the wooing that’s no lang o’ doing.’ - -[50] In Edinburgh, during last century, there was occasionally to -be found some worthy in the ministerial profession available for -such purposes, and whose character would be fairly indicated by the -coarse but forcible language of Matty. They were, however, outwith -the pale of respectability, and were not recognised by their -clerical brethren. Such individuals were not altogether peculiar to -Scotland, but might also be found in London about the same period. - -[51] In Morren’s, M‘Kenzie & Hutchison’s, and other editions, there -is here this parenthesis:--‘Ta’en ane anithers word, a kiss, and a -hoddle, at the hillock side.’ - -[52] The Scotsman’s grace has passed into a proverb, on account -of its inordinate length and its theological tinge. The story is -often told of the servant girl who, after leaving a family in which -she had once served, returned to stay a night with them. At supper -the grace was the same as she was wont to hear before she went -away, and she complimented her late master and host upon his ‘guid -memory.’ - -[53] A little wooden trough such as is used for the feeding of -sheep or swine. In an edition of this chap-book printed in Stirling -by C. Randall, in 1801, the reading is:--‘Into a little tub or -trough.’ It is the same in several later issues, but in Morren’s -edition it reads:--‘Into a little tub or cogboin.’ - -[54] The Scotch ‘girnel,’ to be found yet in most country houses, -especially among ‘bein’ or well-to-do people, who purchase their -meal in larger quantities than is usual in towns. - -[55] The story of the chase after the ‘poor dominie’ is omitted -in Morren’s edition, but the following new matter is inserted in -its stead:--‘Tom came running home all besmear’d with blood, at -the sight whereof his father cry’d, what’s the matter Tom? To -which he made no answer: searching him, the trick was discovered -and poor Tom received a severe chastisment. Tom, to be revenged -on his father, rose in the night time and broke the fauld and let -out the cattle amongst his father’s corn, and goes to bed again, -this he did unperceived. Next morning, the neighbours observing the -cattle lying amongst the corn, came running, and told his father -how they had destroyed all his victual, for they had eat till they -had like to burst. All the time Tom lay in his bed, and his father -much vexed at his laziness, and told him that he would never have -the benefit of more schooling as his master had so many grievious -complaints against him; at which Tom rejoiced within himself as he -did not value learning, nor put it in balance with his designed -tricks; Tom then scampered away, and meeting with an egg cadger -coming to Edinburgh, desired him to alight from his horse, and he -would give him a dram at the Fallow kirk, at which, the poor man -was glad, and went in with him. Tom called for two drams and bade -the cadger drink hearty, in the mean time Tom slips out and mounts -the cadger’s horse, and puts a foot in each creel, and made the -eggs all caddle, and then he dismounted and ran; so that the poor -cadger lost his eggs, and had the drams to pay for.’ - -[56] In Morren’s edition this story is told in a very different -way. As has already been explained, the first and second parts -in that edition are run into one, and the following paragraph -immediately succeeds the story told in the preceding note:--‘Tom -was always playing tricks to his grandmother, as he knew she was -rich, and would part with nothing to him; he lays in wait one -night, and conceals himself in a corner until all was at rest, -Tom rises and takes the keys of a drawer, and slips out about -forty shillings, and slips off to Dalkeith on a Thursday where his -grandmother’s servant girl came that day. Tom was spending largely, -and the girl who knew that Tom had no money, came home and told -his grandmother that Tom had taken away her money, this so enraged -him, that he lashed her buttocks with his wheep in so unmerciful -a manner, that what with the smart and shame together she had not -the least inclination to sleep the remaining part of the day.’ The -narrative then proceeds:--‘Tom being grown up to the years and age -of a man,’ etc. - -[57] It was customary among country folks, and is so still in some -districts of Scotland, to kill a fat animal at Martinmas of each -year, and salt it for the winter’s provision. Even people in urban -districts, though they had not a cow nor an ox, had a pig which -they had been fattening for a year, and which was then considered -ready for the sacrifice. Hence the term ‘winter mairt.’ The word -‘mairt,’ or ‘mart,’ ultimately came to denote a person who lived in -ease and prosperity. - -[58] In all other editions we have seen the reading is ‘three -pounds.’ - -[59] This ends Number I. of the edition of _Lothian Tom_ from which -the text is here taken. It finishes at the foot of the page. The -next number has a title page similar to what is on the first, and -the narrative continues on the back of the title as if there had -been no break. The folios run right through the three numbers, the -whole chap-book occupying twenty-four pages. - -[60] The old jail in the Canongate of Edinburgh is still an -object of interest. Jailers in the past occupied a very different -position from what they do now. They acted more in the capacity of -taverners than their brethren of the present day. In English plays -and novels of last century their position is fully shown; and in -the same period a similar state of matters existed in Scotland. -In Glasgow, after the erection of the Tolbooth at the Cross, in -1627, the jailer was given a yearly salary of 40 merks (£2 4s. 5½ -sterling), and he was to receive from every burgess or inhabitant -of the city who should be committed to his care 2s. Scots (2d. -sterling) for entry and booking fee, and the same sum for every -twenty-four hours during which the person should be incarcerated. -Outsiders, however, had double fees to pay their host. On account -of ‘having only thiefes and lounes as prisoners,’ and getting no -profit from them, the jailer of 1661 received from the Town Council -of Glasgow a grant of £20 Scots (£1 13s. 4d. sterling). The Privy -Council Records show that in 1696 the keeper of Canongate Tolbooth -was allowed 2s. Scots per night, with one penny sterling for the -servants--in all 3d. sterling--for every recruit he kept. - -[61] This clause is added in some modern undated editions:--‘and so -Tom gained his end.’ - -[62] In the Stirling (1801), and other editions the reading -is:--‘So the butcher got but fun for his trouble.’ - -[63] ‘Madam,’ in some later editions. - -[64] A fair indication of the opinion Englishmen had of their -Scottish neighbours. Could any good come out of Scotland? It is -only fair to admit, however, that the contempt was not all on the -one side. - -[65] The old woman, by her remark about witchcraft and her belief -in Tom’s proposal, discovers the presence of superstitions in her -mind. The belief in witchcraft was then in a transition stage. Many -people firmly believed in it; others were doubtful; while not a -few, like Tom, played the rogue on the strength of the superstition -in others. It is more than probable that the tricks of such as -Lothian Tom did more to enlighten the people than anything else. -As for the clergy, they were a hindrance, and rather fostered the -belief in witchcraft. - -[66] This concludes the second number. The third number, like the -others, had a title-page, and the narrative was continued on the -back of it. - -[67] The modern undated Glasgow editions end here with the -words:--‘for it is fashious to lead and heavy to carry.’ All that -goes before of this part is added to part five, so that in them -there are only five parts. In the Stirling (1801) edition, however, -the story is carried on to the end of the scene with the lawyer. - -[68] It was quite a common conclusion of a law-suit for the lawyer -and his client to ‘drink a bottle’ or even get ‘fou’ together, -especially if they were on the winning side. Consultations were -generally held in some tavern in the vicinity of the court, and -the whole aspect of a case was discussed under the stimulating -influence of a ‘tappit hen.’ Sir Walter Scott in the text and -notes to _Guy Mannering_ gives a most interesting account of the -convivial habits of the Scottish bar during last century. - -[69] Nearly four pages are here inserted in the edition from which -this text is taken, but they do not belong to _Lothian Tom_, but to -_Pady from Cork_. They consist of ‘Pady’s New Catechism,’ ‘Pady’s -Humble Petition,’ and ‘Pady’s Creed for Irish Believers,’ and they -will be found in their proper place in a subsequent part of this -volume. - -[70] _Vide_ Introduction, vol. i. p. 45. - -[71] Dogs and chapmen were proverbial enemies. The tradition -regarding the feud will be found in the answer to the -question--‘What is the reason that dogs are worse on chapmen, than -on other strange people?’--in _The Scots Piper’s Queries_. - -[72] Chapmen were looked upon by the common people as characters -whose disinclination to work led them into a lazy life. Their -services to the community were acknowledged, but only under a -protest that had they not been ‘haters of hard work’ they could not -have gone into the business. This feeling, however, arose chiefly -from the popular idea, which still finds expression, that nothing -can be called work except manual labour. - -[73] A most effectual weapon of defence against the physical as -well as the spiritual assaults of Satan. Sinclair, in his work -entitled _Satan’s Invisible World Discovered_, tells a most -extraordinary story of the means taken to ‘lay’ the ‘devil of -Glenluce.’ - -[74] The words, ‘very sick,’ are here added in Morren’s edition. - -[75] The common people had strange notions about foreigners, as -this passage shows. A somewhat similar idea is given expression to -in _The History of the Haverel Wives_, where Janet speaks of Italy -as the country ‘where the auld Pape their [the priests’] father, -the de’il, the witches, brownies and fairies dwal.’ - -[76] There are some unimportant verbal differences between the text -here and what is to be found in Morren’s edition. At the asterisk -there is inserted:--‘thrawing my face terrible at her.’ - -[77] Morren has here:--‘And thou, O monsieur Lucifer, Satan -Diable,’ etc. - -[78] A very fair indication of the unnecessary ceremonies gone -through by wizards and witches. Lothian Tom used some ‘enchantment’ -under equally interesting circumstances. See vol. ii. p. 81. - -[79] Before the introduction of the present complex Poor Law -system, each parish in Scotland, through its kirk session, gave -relief to its own poor. The strictness of the authorities passed -into a proverb. Many parishes had barrows on which the infirm poor -not belonging to them were wheeled outside the boundaries and left -to do for themselves as best they could. We have read of a case -in which relief was refused to a sickly stranger, and the village -joiner was employed to make a barrow for the person’s removal. -Before the work was done the poor unfortunate had died. - -[80] In Morren’s edition there is here added:--‘and give us a -proper drubbing.’ - -[81] Possibly this practice--for the frequency with which it is -mentioned in this and other chap-books indicates that it was -so--may have given rise to the proverbial expression still common -in Scotland:--‘I’ll tak a sup out your cog for that,’ used when a -person wishes to convey a vague threat. - -[82] The suggestion from this passage seems to be that the lads -did not sleep in the house, but in a ‘bothy’ in the vicinity. The -arrangement in many farm houses in some parts of Scotland is--and -it was much more common a century ago--that the maid servants slept -in the house, while the men were accommodated in an out-house. -During harvesting operations, shearers from a distance lived in -a wooden ‘bothy’ erected on the farm. The system was not quite -satisfactory, and often gave rise to serious irregularities. - -[83] Now-a-days it may seem strange that John Cheap, after his -first night’s experience in the stye, should have cared to have -had it a second time. Travelling on Sunday, however, was a thing -not to be thought of a century ago. It was doubtful, even, if a -hen did not break the commandment by laying an egg on the Sabbath. -Dean Ramsay tells the story of a Highlander who gave the following -instance in support of the ‘God-fearin’’ character of the people of -the village in which he resided:--‘Last Sabbath, just as the kirk -was skailin’, there was a drover chield frae Dumfries comin’ along -the road whustlin’, an’ lookin’ as happy as if it was ta muddle o’ -the week; well, sir, our laads is a God-fearin’ set o’ laads, an’ -they were just comin’ out o’ the kirk--’od they yokit upon him, an’ -a’most killed him.’ A similar fate might have befallen John Cheap -had he travelled for a change of lodgings. Certainly he would have -been taken before the Session and rebuked. - -[84] The Covenanters had their great stronghold in the West of -Scotland, especially down Ayrshire way, and the ‘Westland Whig’ was -regarded as a man of extra strictness in religious ordinances. - -[85] Our Lord’s miracle of the casting out the legion of the devils -from the man amongst the tombs, and their subsequent entrance -into a herd of swine, seems to have made a strong impression on -the Scottish mind. John Cheap’s remarks on the subject are fairly -representative of the ideas of many country people in Scotland even -of the present day. - -[86] A proverbial expression. Allan Ramsay’s version of it -is:--‘Better belly burst than good meat spill.’ - -[87] This and other references in the course of the present -narrative point to an extensive trade in human hair; and show that -the country lasses were not averse to gaining a little money by -parting with their flowing tresses. - -[88] Disrespect for all sanitary considerations was for centuries -an unfortunate feature in Scotland, and was the main cause of -the frequent plagues--or ‘visitations’ as they were piously -termed--which depopulated the country and crippled its resources. -Refuse of all sorts was thrown into the ‘midden-dub’ in front of -the door of each house. In the Trongate of Glasgow, in 1655, the -gutters had become so blocked up that the inhabitants had to place -stepping stones in them before they could obtain access to their -houses. In Edinburgh, a century later, ashes, foul water, etc., -were thrown over the windows at night, the only warning the belated -pedestrian received being the melodious _Gardez l’eau_; and happy -was he if he escaped. - -[89] An official who went about to see that the orders of the -‘birley-court’ were obeyed. This court consisted of certain parties -in the barony who looked after local affairs, and were, in fact, a -sort of local authority or town council. - -[90] The ‘evil eye’ was a most terrible thing, according to -Scottish superstition; and a variety of ‘freits’ or charms were had -recourse to as shields against it. In the _Justiciary Records_, of -1661, it is stated that Beatrix Leslie entered the house of one -Agnes Young ‘in ane great fury and anger, and pluckt away a pock -belonging to her, which the said Agnes had in keiping, without -speaking ane word to her, bot gieving her ane _terrible look_; -and that same verry night, the said William Young [her husband] -awakened out of his sleep, in a great affrightment and sweat, -crying out, that she with a number of catts wer devouring him.’ -Many similar instances are on record. Of course they were simply -due to perverted imagination. - -[91] John Cheap seems here to have been credited with possession -of the ‘evil eye,’ while he was really only guilty of a very -questionable practical joke. - -[92] That is, his mother gave him a good _thrashing_ for it. - -[93] In the edition here followed, the heading is ‘Fun upon Fun,’ -but the one given above is more distinctive, while its use is -sanctioned by the precedent of 1820 edition. The edition of 1816 -has--‘The Comical and Merry Tricks of Leper the Taylor.’ - -[94] The custom of the common people, when the ‘goodman’ required a -suit, was to have a tailor working in the house for a day or two, -during which time he had his board and lodging, with a small money -payment. Sometimes a week’s work might be given the tailor in this -way, when the ‘callans,’ as well as their father, were in need of -new clothes. When the goodwife and her daughters were similarly -situated, the dressmaker was brought in on the same principle. This -custom is not yet dead; though it is fast disappearing. - -[95] In a modern Glasgow edition the reading here is:--‘In her own -bedroom.’ That, however, seems to be a suggestion of a later time. -The probability is that the reference is to a press-bed enclosed in -front with wood, with a door which was closed during the day-time. -Round these beds were shelves. - -[96] Under the old system of apprenticeship the master had a -fatherly care over his apprentice in addition to the obligation to -learn him his trade. - -[97] In some of the later editions of this chap-book the reading -here is:--‘Wonderful fire! Wonderful fire!’ This is probably a -misprint, the old fashioned ‘s’ beginning the word ‘sirs’ in the -older editions having caused confusion. - -[98] An apt illustration of the relations of the clergy of that -period towards the common superstitions. - -[99] In this case the feeling of the relatives was satisfied by the -death--or supposed death--having been ‘fair o’erseen’ ‘before good -neighbours;’ the want of which caused Jockey, the hero of _Jockey -and Maggy_, considerable anxiety. See note on that chap-book. - -[100] Old women, whose privilege it was, in respect of their age, -to perform such duties. - -[101] A peculiar Scotticism meaning that the face of the corpse -bore a pleasant expression. On such a melancholy occasion as -a funeral in Scotland, an Englishman would hear many remarks -which would surprise him, possibly, shock him, by their seeming -irreverence. No such feeling, however, has any place in the mind of -the native. The expression, ‘the corpse’s sister,’ to be found in -the text in this page, may be taken as an instance. - -[102] A funeral pall. The kirk session frequently provided one for -the use of the parish. - -[103] Ray, in his _Itinerary through Scotland_, gives the following -form of announcement as having been commonly made by the ‘deid -bellman’ in Scotland in the sixteenth century:--‘Beloued broothrin -and susters, I lat you to wot that thir is an fauthful broothir -lautlie departed awt of this present warld, awt thi plesuir of -almoughti Good; his naum is Volli Voodcok, third son to Jimmoy -Voodcok a cordinger; he ligs at thi sesct door vithin the nord -gawt, close on the nawthuer rawnd, and I wod ya gang to hus burying -on Thursdau before twa a clock.’ - -[104] The second part, in the edition followed here, has a separate -title-page, containing the same matter as the first, altering, of -course, the number of the part. - -[105] Another illustration of the expression used as a safeguard -against the power of witches, warlocks, and all that race, when -speaking of them. See notes to _John Cheap_ and _The History of -Haverel Wives_, in the present volume. - -[106] This seems to be the only story in any edition of _Leper the -Taylor_ that has come under our notice to which the following lines -from an elegy on Peter Duthie, a chapman worthy who lived between -1721 and 1812, could possibly bear any reference:-- - - ‘Nae mair will Pate e’er travel round - * * * * * - Nor tell how _Leper_ threw the cat - Into auld Janet’s boiling pat.’ - -[107] The presence of cattle in the houses of the common people, -or small farmers, was too often seen, but this is just a further -instance of the disrespect for sanitary matters evinced by the -Scots before the present century. A great change has taken place -within the last eighty or a hundred years. - -[108] Sunday observance has long been, and still is, a remarkable -feature of the Scottish national life. In former times the utmost -care was taken that there should be no Sabbath breaking. The old -Jewish idea of a ‘Sabbath-day’s’ journey was kept to the letter, -and no one was allowed to walk on the streets except going to or -coming from the church. Any person found taking a walk ran the risk -of being taken to the guard-house by the ‘civileers,’ who were -inquisitors appointed conjointly by the Town Council and the kirk -session. The average Scotsman would rather let his crops go to ruin -than take them in on a fine Sabbath. - -[109] In the 1816 edition, here followed throughout, the chap-book -begins--‘This taylor;’ but in the 1820 edition the opening sentence -runs thus:--‘Leper in his life-time,’ etc. That reading has been -taken here as it makes a better beginning than the other. - -[110] The English edition has a very different reading, as -follows:--‘A farthing Roll, half a pint of Ale, and a pipe of -Tobacco.’ - -[111] The word ‘nearest’ is given instead of ‘former’ in the other -editions. - -[112] ‘Half,’ in the English edition. - -[113] ‘Sixty-two,’ in the English edition. - -[114] ‘Three-half-pennys’ in the English edition. - -[115] A reference to a similar event is made in R. Braithwaite’s -_Penitent Pilgrim_, 1641, reprinted by Pickering, of London, in -1853. At p. 109 of the reprint the following passage will be -found:--‘Nay, hast thou not seen the very corpse of thy departed -brother arrested, and uncharitably stayed; who, though he had paid -his debt to nature, yet must receive no burial till his corpse -has discharged his debt to his creditor? and hast thou sought to -satisfy his hard-hearted creditor that those due funeral rites -might be performed to thy brother?’ - -[116] Romans ix. 27. - -[117] In the English edition the reading here is:--‘and had the -above mentioned Legacy, so went weeping home for the loss of so -good a Master.’ - -[118] ‘Simon Suckegg,’ and ‘Mrs. Lucy Longstitch’ in the English -edition. - -[119] ‘Like a first rate beau in the fashion,’ in the edition of -1820. - -[120] Whether the chap-book was written by Dougal Graham or not, -certainly no one can claim for him the authorship of these lines. -They were written by Allan Ramsay on Lady Somerville’s Book of -Scots Sangs. The complete inscription is thus given in Fullarton’s -edition of the works of the poet, vol. iii. p. 13:-- - - ‘Gae canty book, and win a name; - Nae lyrics e’er shall ding thee: - Hope large esteem, and lasting fame, - If Somervilla sing thee. - If she thy sinless faults forgive, - Which her sweet voice can cover, - Thou shalt, in spite of critics live, - Still grateful to each lover.’ - -[121] Monday, the 29th March, 1652, when an eclipse of the sun took -place, there being complete darkness for about eight minutes. Law, -in his _Memorials_, says:--‘The like, as thought by astrologers, -was not since the darkness at our Lord’s Passion. The country -people, tilling, loosed their ploughs, and thought it had been the -latter day.... The birds clapped to the ground.’ According to the -Burgh Records of Peebles, the people began to pray to God. This was -how the day came to be named ‘the mirk Munonday.’ - -[122] Historically a true description of the manner in which the -Sabbath day was observed immediately before the Reformation. Janet, -however, must surely have been speaking more from tradition than -personal knowledge. - -[123] The popular, but mistaken, notion of the _mercheta mulierum_. -Cosmo Innes, in his _Lectures on Scottish Legal Antiquities_, pp. -52-53, gives what seems to be the true meaning:--‘Mercheta is the -older form of the _maritagium_ or marriage-tax, in the charters of -Robert I., and not only the servile class, but the free tenants -also paid a _maritagium_ on the marriage of their daughters.... -Some learning has been brought to show that, on the Continent, -this tax--_mercheta mulierum_--represented an ancient seignorial -right--the _jus primae noctis_. I have not looked carefully into -the French authorities; but I think there is no evidence of a -custom so odious existing in England; and in Scotland, I venture -to say that there is nothing to ground a suspicion of such a -right. The merchet of women with us was simply the tax paid by the -different classes of bondmen and tenants and vassals, when they -gave their daughters in marriage, and thus deprived the lord of -their services, to which he was entitled _jure sanguinis_.’ The -reader may also find the matter very learnedly discussed in the -appendix to Lord Hailes’ _Annals of Scotland_. It need only be -remarked that prelates, being spiritual peers, and holding lands -from the Crown on the same footing as their brethren of the civil -estate, were entitled like them to levy the _maritagium_. - -[124] See text and first note on p. 94 of the present volume. - -[125] A reference to Episcopacy. - -[126] This paragraph in itself contains an almost complete -commentary on the superstition of which it treats. According to the -legend of Thomas the Rhymer the devil levied tribute from the king -of Fairy-land. - -[127] A scriptural veneration for old age was long a characteristic -of the common people of Scotland; but this remark betrays one of -the tenets of the belief in witchcraft hardly consistent with the -outward profession of the people. In a curious and interesting -work, entitled the _History of the Devil_, the author says:--‘I -think it was a mean, low-priced business for Satan to take up with; -below the very Devil: below his dignity as an angelic, though -condemned creature; below him even as a Devil, to go to talk to a -parcel of ugly, deformed, spightful, malicious old women; to give -them power to do mischief, who never had a will, after they entered -into the state of old womanhood, to do anything else.’ - -[128] Another illustration of the ignorance of the common people of -the time about foreigners, or the manners of life among the upper -classes. This is not exaggerated, and could find parallels from -more recent times. Janet’s answer is more enlightened, but she is -shown all through the narrative as a well-informed woman. - -[129] Any one who wishes to see compressed within one volume -an account of the opinions of the human race all through time -regarding Satan, will find it in _The History of the Devil, Ancient -and Modern_, already mentioned. The second part of the work deals -more particularly to the line of thought suggested by Janet. An -edition of the work, published in London in 1793, lies before us; -and the following verse on the title-page, referring in a slight -degree to the remark in the text, may be quoted:-- - - ‘Bad as he is, the Devil may be abus’d, - Be falsely charged, and causelessly accused: - When Men, unwilling to be blamed alone, - Shift off those crimes on him which are their own.’ - -[130] It would be difficult to find so much folk-lore compressed -into so few lines. The passage is a valuable representation of the -popular belief. - -[131] Illustrations of the use of the advice here given may be -found in a note to _John Cheap the Chapman_, at p. 104 of this -volume. - -[132] See first note on p. 95 of the present volume. - -[133] In the Edinburgh reprint of 1820, all after the word -‘Paepery’ in this paragraph is left out here. After Janet’s reply, -beginning--‘But Maggy, an ye be a mind to marry,’ etc, it is -inserted as a separate speech by Margaret, all between ‘Paepery’ -and ‘O woman, but a man,’ etc., being omitted altogether, the -paragraph opening with the last quoted words. - -[134] The ‘duket,’ or dove-cot, would be one of those large stone -structures only occasionally to be found in Scotland now. - -[135] In the edition of this chap-book, published in 1807, by J. -& M. Robertson, Saltmarket, Glasgow, there is here a break in the -narrative, and the following paragraph, with its accompanying -heading, is inserted:-- - - ‘_Janet’s Advice to Maggy concerning Marriage._ - - ‘While these two old Haverels were thus discussing together at - their rocks, amongst other things Maggy told Janet, that although - she was now above a hundred years of age, she had a great desire - for a husband, but that she would be obliged to use some methods - and enticements to make the young men fall in love wi’ her. Upon - which, Janet gave her the following witty advice.’ - -The dialogue then proceeds as given in the edition re-produced in -these pages. The interpolation here quoted seems to be by a hand -other than that of the author, for it in some respects goes back -upon Maggy’s previous statements, and makes an unnatural break in -the dialogue. - -[136] In an undated edition of the _Haverel Wives_, published by J. -Morren, of the Cowgate, Edinburgh, the story is here brought to a -close with the following lines:-- - - ‘When Maggy and Janet had fairly done, - With their clashes from their tongue - They went and birl’d their baubees, - They clash’d and told all downright lies. - Now Janet and Maggy did agree, - Never to drink one drop of tea - But stout brown ale and wiskky bare, - And they shook hands and came away.’ - -This ending, however, is hardly so consistent as the one given in -the text. - -[137] All that follows in this paragraph is left out in the -Edinburgh reprint. - -[138] A nick-name to the wife’s daughter that no man will marry, -because stuff’d full of laziness, self-conceit and stinking pride; -or if she be married, she’ll ly like stinking butter on his stomach -while she lives.--_Original Note._ - -[139] This paragraph is thus abridged in an edition published in -1824--‘4thly, concluding with an advice to young men and women.’ - -[140] A common name for a cow. - -[141] A literal description of whale-bone stays. - -[142] ‘Witless wanton waster,’ in 1820 reprint. - -[143] The fabulous story of Fortunatus was known to every hind in -the country through chap-books editions of his adventures. - -[144] In the 1824 edition all that comes between the words ‘cannot -help’ and ‘until they disdain now to ride upon pads,’ as in the -text above, is omitted. The reading in that edition is:--‘The last -prevailing evil that I see, all men may hear, but none strive to -help; women now disdain to ride on pads, as of old,’ etc. - -[145] Probably Carlisle. - -[146] Scotch people have always had the idea that the use of -carriages was a sign of effeminacy. Innovations tending towards -ease and luxury in any direction were discountenanced; and the -story is told of an old Highland chieftain who was highly mortified -when he found that his son, on an expedition with the clan, used a -stone for a pillow when sleeping on the hills. The use of a pillow -of any kind seemed to him a symptom of declension. - -[147] The Scots generally consider their native dialect as -different from the English. They acknowledge a common origin, but -argue for a different development. A look over the glossary at the -end will give the reader some idea of the material divergences that -have arisen in the growth of the Anglo-Saxon tongue in England and -Scotland. - -[148] In the 1824 edition, all between this and the paragraph -beginning, ‘Another grievance of the female offenders,’ is left out. - -[149] The rest of this paragraph in the 1824 edition reads:--‘I -mean the flyers, who have got more silver than sense, more -haughtiness than gold, and value themselves as treasure -incomprehensible, their whole body as if set about with precious -stones, and the solemnity, or their marriage, is like a peace after -a bloody war.’ - -[150] There has always been in Scotland a tendency to make the -celebration of a marriage the occasion of great festivity. The -Church for a time tried to keep this within proper bounds, and -generally allowed an expense of six shillings Scots (six pence -sterling) for each guest. This was, however, often exceeded, and -the parties had to answer to the Kirk Session for doing so. Even -elders of the Kirk, when their daughters were being married, -sometimes overstepped the limit, and had to make their repentance -for it. - -[151] This paragraph ends as follows in the 1824 edition:--‘as the -skimings of a pot of green kail, and the poor husband has to return -at ten o’clock to his fore-noon’s wark, without his breakfast, -hanging his head like a brewer’s horse at the ale-house door.’ - -[152] The 1824 edition ends here, with the sentence:--‘That such a -wife may be the lot of every young lad, is the earnest prayer of -Grannie M‘Nab.’ - -[153] In Morren’s edition the order of the first three stories is -different. In it the second story as above is first, the third -second, and the first third. - -[154] This ‘joke’ is left out in Morren’s edition; and the story -about the drover, to be found at p. 161, is inserted before the one -of the three merry companions. - -[155] Perhaps other three miles. The Scottish ‘bittock’ is rather -an elastic expression. - -[156] Although the Scots have always been more or less of a -military nation, the common people have generally had a sort of -pitying contempt for mercenary soldiery, as opposed to the old -feudal system of raising an army. It would be difficult to account -for this feeling, but it is still the fact that even now service -in the army is regarded as the last resource of a respectable -tradesman or countryman. - -[157] ‘Brucket’ in Morren’s edition. - -[158] ‘Danger,’ according to Morren. - -[159] This biographical preface was, according to Motherwell, given -in an edition published in Glasgow in 1779, probably after Graham’s -death. - -[160] In Morren’s edition the following lines precede the title:-- - - ‘This Catechism deserves no Creed, - It’s only for boys who will not read - On wiser books them to instruct! - Let droll John their fancy cook.’ - -[161] Properly Milngavie, in the neighbourhood of Glasgow. The -common pronunciation of the word is phonetically given as ‘Milguy’ -in Morren’s edition. In the modern Glasgow copies the spelling is -‘Mullgay.’ - -[162] ‘Or the Hottentot gibberish,’ is added in the modern Glasgow -editions. - -[163] Randall’s and Morren’s editions end here, the former with the -lines quoted in p. 168 as preceding the title of Morren’s edition. -What follows in the text appears in undated editions published in -Glasgow within the last fifty years. - -[164] Suggested, apparently, by Proverbs, vi. 26. - -[165] Red-headed. - -[166] ‘In his teeth,’ according to a modern undated edition. - -[167] _I.e._, off the Mull of Galloway. - -[168] A custom which has not yet fallen into disuetude in Irish -communities. The popular idea of the use of these articles is -simply that the brogues are for the accommodation of the dead man -on his journey heaven-wards; the candle to light him on the way; -the ‘good hard-headed old hammer’ to raise St. Peter, the venerable -porter at the celestial gate; and the money is to pay for tolls. To -many persons this explanation may smack somewhat of irreverence, -but we are not aware of any more satisfactory explanation of the -custom. Divested of its ‘bulls,’ the narrative of Teague is a fair -outline of the proceedings at an Irish funeral. - -[169] _i.e._ or a devil in its stead. - -[170] The text up till this point has been published separately -under the title of ‘The Miseries of Poor Simple Innocent Silly -Tam.’ The ‘Misfortunes’ are not given in that chap-book. In all the -other editions of _Simple John_ which have come under the notice of -the editor, each of the ‘misfortunes’ is given a separate numerical -title, as ‘Misfortune I.,’ etc. - -[171] The inhabitants of Buck-haven have always been acknowledged -to be a peculiar people. An account of their origin is to the -effect that they are the descendants of the crew of a ship from the -Netherlands, which stranded on the coast of Fifeshire in reign of -James IV. The village of Buckie, mentioned in the text, is on the -Moray Firth, in the parish of Ruthven, county of Banff. - -[172] This paragraph is omitted in the modern and Randall’s -editions. The narrative in them begins with the next paragraph. - -[173] In Randall’s and the modern edition this paragraph -begins:--‘Again, these people are said to have descended from one -Tom, and his two sons,’ etc. - -[174] ‘Other hand,’ instead of ‘fishers of Bucky-harbour,’ in -abridged editions. - -[175] The sentence reads thus in abridged editions:--‘The Lord o’ -the manor decided all disputable points, and wise Willie,’ etc. - -[176] The word ‘mancoes’ is substituted for ‘mutches’ in the two -abridged editions. They seem to have the same significance. - -[177] The people of Buckhaven seem to have been free from the old -superstition regarding the horse-shoe charm. A horse-shoe nailed to -a stable door kept the four-footed inmates free from the power of -‘uncanny’ beings. The custom still lingers in the country, but it -is due more to use and wont than any active belief in its virtues. - -[178] A similar circumstance is related in the _History of John -Cheap the Chapman_. See text and note at p. 93, vol. ii. - -[179] Christening was looked upon by the people of Scotland as -almost necessary to salvation. That doctrine held by a large -section of the Christian church, was here largely mingled with -superstition, and the powers of evil were thought to have a malign -influence on the body and soul of an unchristened person. The -popular ideas on the subject may be found fairly well brought out -at p. 34 of the present volume. - -[180] ‘Herd laddies,’ in the two abridged editions: but ‘ill-bred -laddies’ in Morren’s edition. - -[181] All this part, with the exception of the paragraph given in a -subsequent note, is omitted in the two abridged editions. - -[182] See note at p. 102 of the present volume. ‘My Lord,’ as -feudal superior would have the appointment in his gift, in the same -way as, prior to the year 1636, the prelates of Glasgow, had the -power of presentation to the Provostship of the city. - -[183] Probably a stupid synonym for crutches. - -[184] In the olden times the lord and lady moved out and in among -their people, and took an active interest in their every day -concerns. This intercourse was generally productive of good, and -the relationship between a superior and his vassals or tenants was -of the most pleasant kind. - -[185] This and other names in the chap-book give examples of the -need there was in a community, consisting really of one large -family, with the same surname common to almost all, for nicknames -to distinguish between several persons who also bore the same -Christian name. A more interesting account of such a circumstance -is given by Cosmo Innes, in his work on _Some Scottish Surnames_. - -[186] The coarse language here used is in no way an exaggerated -account of what may have actually occurred at the period with -which the author is dealing. Great laxity of morals and of speech -prevailed; but vice, it must also be stated, came more to the -surface than now. The people were uncultivated, and did not seek to -cast a veil of prudery over their failings, however much these were -to be reprobated. Swearing was then considered fashionable among -the ladies of England: what could be expected from the peasantry of -Scotland? - -[187] Belief in dreams and omens was almost universal, and was -fostered by the chap dream-books, whose modern successors may be -found in _Napoleon’s Book of fate_, etc. - -[188] The foregoing paragraph was thus given in the abridged -editions:--‘There was a custom in Bucky harbour, when they got a -hearty drink, that they went down to dance among the boats, two -or three of the oldest went into a boat to see the rest dance, -and when they admitted a burgher, there was always a dance. One -day they admitted gly’d Rob, who was a warlock, and made them all -stop their dancing, for which he was carried before wise Willie to -answer for that, for which he was banished to the isle of May, to -carry coals to the Light House.’ - -[189] Willy Thomson must have been guilty of some serious offence, -when he was condemned to slavery. In comparatively recent times -actual property in the persons who worked in coal-mines in Scotland -was to be found, and the old records bear ample testimony to the -existence of serfdom, and to the punishment of subjection to -slavery being considered a part of the judicial system of the -country. - -[190] The third of May, when many superstitious observances were -made. The first of May was Beltane, and has been traced to the -fire-worship of the ancient Caledonians. Rood-day superstitions, -however, were of more recent origin. Great precautions were taken -against the power of witches and fairies, and if these should be -neglected ill-luck would follow. Jamieson, in his _Dictionary of -the Scottish Language_, under the word ‘Rude-day,’ gives a most -interesting account of the ceremonies gone through on the yearly -return of the festival. - -[191] The ‘mauken,’ or hare seems to have occupied a most -important position in the folk-lore of all countries, but notably -of Scotland. Sir Walter Scott, in his work on _Demonology and -Witchcraft_, tells how Isobel Gowdie, one of the witches of -Auldern, disguised herself as a hare and after being hunted by -hounds for some time, took refuge in a house where she found -opportunity to say the disenchanting rhyme:-- - - ‘Hare, Hare, God send thee care! - I am in a hare’s likeness now; - But I shall be woman even now-- - Hare, hare, God send thee care:’ - -That is her own story. A most valuable and interesting article, -on ‘The Hare in Folk-Lore’ was contributed to a recent number of -the _Folk-Lore Journal_ by Mr. William George Black, F.S.A. Scot., -and should be consulted by those who wish to know more about this -subject. - -[192] The statement contained in the text gives an excellent -account of what was believed to be the attributes of the -water-kelpie. In many old ballads references, such as the -following, may be found:-- - - ‘The bonnie gray mare did sweat for fear, - For she heard the water-kelpie roaring.’ - -[193] Frequent reference has been made to the supposed power -of fairies over unchristened children and their mothers. -‘Changelings’ were greatly feared. If a child developed a strong -and uncontrollable temper there arose a suspicion that it was a -‘changeling,’ the meaning being that the fairies had slipped away -the mother’s own child and substituted a little fiend in human -form in its stead. It was believed that the best way to set the -suspicion at rest was to submit the little unfortunate to the test -of the fire. We have not, however, noticed any case where the test -was actually carried out. - -[194] The ‘mauken’s fit’ was particularly feared by the fishers on -the east-coast of Scotland. Very recently, and it may be so still, -it was sufficient to raise the ire of a fisher woman to wish she -had a hare’s foot in her creel. The wish was regarded as equivalent -to a malediction. - -[195] That is, a maker of shallow baskets such as are used by -fishers for carrying their fish. - -[196] ‘Maids of honour,’ instead of ‘Maries,’ in the more -recent editions. Jamieson, under the word ‘Maries,’ says:--‘The -designation given to the maids of honour in Scotland.... This Queen -[Mary Stuart] had four maids of honour, all of the name of _Mary_. -There were Mary Livingston, Mary Fleming--Seaton, and--Beaton. -Hence it has been supposed, that the name passed into a general -denomination for female attendants.... From analogy, I am much -inclined to think that the term is far more ancient than the -period referred to. For we learn from Lye [_Dictionarium Saxonico -et Gothico-Latinum_], that the O. E. [Old English] called the -queen’s maids, the _Queen’s Meys_. Hence it is highly probable that -our term _Marie_ is an official designation, and allied to Isl. -[Icelandic] _maer_, a maid, a virgin.... Thus the _Queen’s Maries_, -a phrase still common among the vulgar, may be exactly synonymous -with the _Queen’s Maids_.’ - -[197] This story is not given in Randall’s edition; but it has been -inserted here from the Falkirk 1799 edition. A similar story is -told of ‘Tom Tram,’ an English chap-book hero, and of Sancho Panza, -in _Don Quixote_. - -[198] In the later editions the dispute is said to have arisen -about ‘education,’ not ‘religion,’ and it is stated of George that -‘he blanked the bishop remarkably.’ While this story undoubtedly -presents an exaggerated picture of the educational virtues of -Scotland, it must be remembered that owing to the system of -parochial schools instituted by Knox the lower classes in Scotland -had facilities for instruction, especially in the classics, which -the otherwise more favoured English people did not possess. - -[199] A similar story will be found in Bacon’s _Apothegms_. See -_Essays and Historical Works_, Bohn’s edition, p. 189. - -[200] Properly ‘Kinbot.’ The law or custom is much older than the -reign of James VI., as the story here indicates. Jamieson derives -the word from Anglo-Saxon _cin_, kindred, and _bot_, compensation. -The present editor, in his _History of Glasgow_, p. 114, gives an -account of an interesting case which occurred in Glasgow in the -sixteenth century. - -[201] ‘One hundred crowns,’ in the later editions. - -[202] This story, and the one immediately following it, are not in -Randall’s edition, but have been inserted from the 1799 Falkirk -edition. - -[203] Also to be found among Bacon’s _Apothegms_, Bohn’s edition, -p. 168. - -[204] This and the preceding story are from the Falkirk edition. - -[205] This story has been inserted from the Falkirk edition. It is -not in the one by Randall. - -[206] Auchterarder. - -[207] From the Falkirk edition. - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - - Footnote [118] is referenced twice from page 130. - - Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been - corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within - the text and consultation of external sources. - - Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, - and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. The spelling - of all Scottish dialect words has been left unchanged. - - Pg 16: ‘but but yet nane’ replaced by ‘but yet nane’. - Pg 43: ‘their’s nae fear’ replaced by ‘there’s nae fear’. - Pg 55: ‘Sawney but ye’ replaced by ‘Sawny but ye’. - Pg 60: ‘the’re well paid’ replaced by ‘they’re well paid’. - Pg 68: ‘his mastre had’ replaced by ‘his master had’. - Pg 82: ‘lad to Louthan’ replaced by ‘lad to Louthian’. - Pg 117: ‘heal and fiar’ replaced by ‘heal and fair’. - Pg 157: ‘but kep-jogging’ replaced by ‘but kept jogging’. - Pg 159: ‘now and than’ replaced by ‘now and then’. - Pg 161: ‘ther is nothing’ replaced by ‘there is nothing’. - Pg 186: ‘your potates home’ replaced by ‘your potatoes home’. - Pg 187: ‘to Port Partrick’ replaced by ‘to Port Patrick’. - Pg 204: Footnote [169] was an embedded sidenote in the original text. - Pg 242: ‘was falsefied’ replaced by ‘was falsified’. - Pg 247: ‘swore a rap’ replaced by ‘swore a rape’. - Pg 255: ‘to do, do, knowing’ replaced by ‘to do, knowing’. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUGAL -GRAHAM, "SKELLAT" BELLMAN OF GLASGOW, VOL. 2 OF 2 *** - -***** This file should be named 64219-0.txt or 64219-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/1/64219/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Collected Writings of Dougal Graham, "Skellat" Bellman of Glasgow, Vol. 2 of 2, by Dougal Graham</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Collected Writings of Dougal Graham, "Skellat" Bellman of Glasgow, Vol. 2 of 2</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Dougal Graham</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: George MacGregor</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 05, 2021 [eBook #64219]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: hekula03, John Campbell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUGAL GRAHAM, "SKELLAT" BELLMAN OF GLASGOW, VOL. 2 OF 2 ***</div> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p> - -<p>Footnote anchors are denoted by <span class="fnanchor">[number]</span>, -and the footnotes have been placed at the end of the book.</p> - -<p class="customcover">The cover image was created by the transcriber -and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -<p>Some minor changes to the text are noted at the <a href="#TN">end of the book.</a></p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap pg-brk" /> - -<h1> -COLLECTED WRITINGS<br /> - -<span class="fs70">OF</span><br /> - -<span class="fs150 lsp2">DOUGAL GRAHAM.</span> -</h1> - - -<hr class="chap p6 pg-brk" /> - -<div class="figleft illowe15_625" id="frontis"> - <img class="p2 pad4 w100" src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="p4 pad6 smcap">Portrait of Dougal Graham</p> - <p class="pad8 fs90"><em>From Early Chap Book.</em></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="p2 right clear fs70 padr20pc"><em>Frontispiece to Vol. II.</em></p> - - -<hr class="chap p4 pg-brk" /> - -<p class="p2 pfs100">THE</p> - -<p class="p1 pfs135">COLLECTED WRITINGS</p> - -<p class="p2 pfs50">OF</p> - -<p class="pfs240 smcap lsp2">Dougal Graham</p> - -<p class="pfs80">‘Skellat’ Bellman of Glasgow</p> - -<p class="p3 pfs70">EDITED WITH NOTES</p> - -<p class="p1 pfs70"><em>Together with a Biographical and Bibliographical Introduction, and a Sketch -of the Chap Literature of Scotland</em></p> - -<p class="p4 pfs70">BY</p> - -<p class="p1 pfs100">GEORGE MAC GREGOR</p> - -<p class="p1 pfs70"><em>Author of ‘The History of Glasgow’ and Member of the Glasgow -Archæological Society</em></p> - -<p class="p4 pfs100"><em>IN TWO VOLUMES</em></p> - -<p class="pfs100"><em>VOL. II.</em></p> - -<p class="p4 pfs100 antiqua">For Subscribers and Private Circulation</p> - -<p class="pfs70">GLASGOW: THOMAS D. MORISON</p> - -<p class="pfs50">MDCCCLXXXIII</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span><br /></p> - -<h2 class="p4 nobreak" id="CONTENTS_OF_VOLUME_II">CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowe4" id="sep"> - <img class="w100" src="images/sep.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - - -<table class="autotable fs80 smcap" summary=""> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr fs60">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Jockey and Maggy’s Courtship</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.—<span class="fvnormal"><em>Jockey and Maggy’s Courtship as they were coming from the market</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jmc-I">9</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.—<span class="fvnormal"><em>The Wonderful Works of our John</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jmc-II">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.—<span class="fvnormal"><em>The Wonderful Works of our John made manifest before the Minister, &c.</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jmc-III">22</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part IV.—<span class="fvnormal"><em>How Jockey and his Mother went away to see his bastard child, &c.</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jmc-IV">31</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Vth and Last Part.—<span class="fvnormal"><em>Being an Account of Jockey’s Mother’s Death and Burial: - With an Elegant Elegy and Epitaph on that occasion—The Baptizing of his two Children, and how he mounted the stool</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jmc-V">37</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Coalman’s Courtship</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcc-I">49</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcc-II">53</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcc-III">58</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Comical Transactions of Lothian Tom</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-I">67</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-II">70</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-III">73</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part IV.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-IV">76</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part V.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-V">79</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part VI.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-VI">81</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Plowman’s Glory; or, Tom’s Song</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ctl-VII">84</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">History of John Cheap the Chapman</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Preface</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#hjc-P">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#hjc-I">89</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#hjc-II">96</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#hjc-III">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Leper the Taylor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ltt-I">111</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#ltt-II">118</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Grand Solemnity of the Taylor’s Funeral</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>The Taylor’s Last Will</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tgs-I">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The History of Haverel Wives</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Janet Clinker’s Oration</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Comical and Witty Jokes of John Falkirk</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Scot’s Piper’s Queries; or, John Falkirk’s Cariches</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>An Account of John Falkirk, the Scots Piper</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#jfc-I">167</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Comical Sayings of Pady from Cork</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-I">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-II">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-III">193</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>A New Catechism</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-IV">199</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>Pady’s Humble Petition, or Supplication</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-V">203</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>A Creed for Romish Believers</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#tcs-VI">204</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Simple John and His Twelve Misfortunes</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Ancient and Modern History of Buck-Haven</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#amh-I">219</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#amh-II">225</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#amh-III">229</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="fvnormal"><em>The Minister and Mussel Mou’d Harry</em></span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#amh-IV">237</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">The Witty and Entertaining Exploits of George Buchanan</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-I">241</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part II.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-II">248</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part III.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-III">256</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part IV.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-IV">263</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part V.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-V">269</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Part VI.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#wee-VI">277</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdlx">Glossary</td> -<td class="tdrx"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="JOCKEY_AND_MAGGYS_COURTSHIP"><em>JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[This chap-book was one of the most popular of Graham’s productions. It is -reprinted here from a unique copy formerly belonging the late Dr. David Laing, -and now in the possession of George Gray, Esq. It is in five parts. The title-page -bears that it had been ‘carefully corrected and revised by the Author.’ It was -printed in 1779 by J. and J. Robertson, Glasgow, and is perhaps the earliest copy -extant.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="jmc-I"> -<p class="p4 center lht">JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S COURTSHIP AS THEY<br /> -WERE COMING FROM THE MARKET.</p> -</div> - - -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part I.</span></h3> - -<p>Jockey. Hey Maggy, wilt thou stay and tak kent fouks -hame wi’ ye the night?</p> - -<p>Maggy. Wiltu come awa than Johny. I fain wad be hame -or the ky come in, our meikle Riggy is sic a rumbling royte, -she rins ay thro’ the byre, and sticks a’ the bits a couties; my -mither is nae able to had her up to her ain stake.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Hute, we’ll be hame in bra’ time woman: and -how’s a’ your fouks at hame?</p> - -<p>Maggy. Indeed I canna well tell you man, our guidame is -a’ gane wi’ the gut; my mither is very frail, my father he’s ay -wandering about, and widdling amang the beasts.</p> - -<p>Jockey. But dear Maggy they tell me we’re gawn to get a -wedding of thee and Andrew Merrymouth the laird’s gardener.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Na, na, he maun hae a brawer lass to be his wife -than the like o’ me, but auld Tammy Tailtrees was seeking -me, my father wad a haen me to tak him, but my mither -wadna let, there was an odd debate about it, my guidame wad -a sticket my mither wi’ the grape, if my father hadna chanc’d -to founder her wi’ the beetle.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Hech woman, I think your father was a fool for -fashing wi’ him, auld slavery dufe, he wants naething of a cow -but the clutes, your guidame may tak him hersel, twa auld -tottering stumps, the tane may sair the tither fu’ well.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Ach man! I wad a tane thee or ony body to hane -them greed again, my father bled my guidame’s nose, and my -guidame brake my mithers thumb; the neighbours came -a’ rinning in, but I had the luck to haud my father’s hands till<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -yence my guidame plotted him wi’ the broe that was to mak -our brose.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Dear Maggy, I hae something to tell you an ye -wadna be angry at it?</p> - -<p>Maggy. O Johnny, there’s my hand I’se no be angry at it, -be what it will.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -[Shakes hands for fear of an outcast.]<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -</p> - -<p>Jockey. Indeed Maggy the fouk of your town and the fouk -of our town, says, we are gawn to be married: What say’st -thou?</p> - -<p>Maggy. I wish we ne’er do war, O Johny, I dream’d o’ -you lang syne, an I liket you ay after that.</p> - -<p>Jockey. O Maggy! Maggy! dost thou mind since I came -to your mither’s bill, wi’ my mither’s cow, ye ken she wadna -stand, and ye helped me to haud her; ay after that they scorned -me that I wad be married on a you.</p> - -<p>Maggy. It’s very true man, it’ll be an odd thing an it be; -but it’s no fa’ back at my door, I assure ye.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Nor at mine, but my mither bad me kiss ye.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Indeed sall ye Johny, thou’s no want twa kisses -man, ane on every side o’ the mouth, man.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Ha! ha! Maggy, I’ll hae a merry night o’ kissing -you shortly.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Ay but Johny, you maun stay till that night come: -it’s best to keep the feast until the feast day.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Dinna be angry Maggy, my wife to be, but I have -heard my mither saying in her daffing that fouk sud ay try gin -their house will haud their plenishin.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Ay but Johny, a wife is ae thing, an a house -anither, a man that’s a mind to marry a woman he’ll no mak -her a whore.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<p>Jockey. It’s a’ true Maggy, but fouks may do it yence or -they be married and no hae nae ill in their minds.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Aha Johny, mony a are has been beguil’d wi’ -yence, and do it yence ye may do it ay, what an we get a bystart, -and hae to suffer for the foul act of fornication.</p> - -<p>Jockey. Ay but my mither says, if I dinna get thee wi’ -bairn, I’ll no get thee; so it’s the surest way of wooing.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Indeed Johny I like you better nor ony lad I see, -and I sall marry you an yence my father’s muck were out, my -mither downa wirk at the midden.</p> - -<p>Jockey. A Maggy, Maggy, I’m fear’d ye beguile me, an -then my mither will murder me for being so silly.</p> - -<p>Maggy. My jo Jockey, tell your mither to provide a’ things -for the bridal, and I sal marry you in three uks after this, but -we maun gie in siller to the Precentor, a groat an a drink to -the bellman, and then the Kirk wa’s maun hear o’t, three sunday’s -or it come.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Jockey. But Maggy am no to make a blin bargain wi’ you -nor nae body, I maun ken o’ your things an ye sall ken o’ -mine.</p> - -<p>Maggy. I ken well what I was to get, an gin my mither -like the bargain well, she’ll make it better; but an my father -be angry at the match, I darna meet you to be married.</p> - -<p>Jockey. I see na how he can be angry. I wat well I’m a -gay sturdy fallow, when I laid on a bow and five pecks o’ bear -on the laird’s Bawsey, an he’s as bilchy a beast as in a’ the -barronry.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Ay but my mither is aye angry at ony body that -evens themselves to me, an it binna them she likes, indeed she -bad me tak ony body if it were na auld tottering Tammie, -for his beard is ay brown wi’ sucking tobacco, and slavers a’ -the breast o’ his fecket.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span></p> - -<p>Jockey. O! Maggy tak me an I’ll tell you what I hae; -first my father left me when he died, fifty merks, twa sacks, -twa pair of sunks, the hens, an the gawn gear was to be divided -between me and my mither, and if she died first, a’ her gear -was to come amang mine, and if I died before her, a’ my gear -was to come back to her again, an her to marry anither man -if she cou’d get him. But since it’s happened sae, she is to gie -me Brucky an the black mare, the haf o’ the cogs, three spoons, -four pair o’ blankets an a can’as, she’s to big a twa bey to her -ain gavel to be a dwelling house to me an my wife, am to get -the wee byre at the end o’ the raw to haud my cow and twa -couties; the haf o’ the barn an a bed o’ the kailyard as lang -as she lives, an when she dies am to pay the earding o’ her -honestly, and a’ the o’ercome is to be my ain: an by that time -I’ll be as rich as e’er my father was before me.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Truly Johny, I’se no say meikle to the contrair, -but an ye hae a mind to tak me wi’ what I hae, tell me either -now or never, for I’se be married or lang gae.</p> - -<p>Jockey. I wat weel I am courting in earnest, tell me what -you hae, an we’ll say nae mair but marry ither.</p> - -<p>Maggy. I’se tell you a’ I ken o’, whate’er my guidame gies -ye’s get it.</p> - -<p>Jockey. That’s right, I want nae mair, it’s an unko thing -to marry a naket woman and get naething but twa bair legs.</p> - -<p>Maggy. O Johny ye’re ay in the right o’t, for mony ane is -beguil’d and gets naething, but my father is to gie me forty -pund Scots, that night I am married, a lade of meal, a furlet -of groats, auld Crummie is mine since she was a cauf, and now -she has a stirk will tak the bill e’er beltan yet, I hae twa stane -o’ good lint, and three pockfu’s o’ tow a good cauf bed, twa -bowsters and three cods, with three pair o’ blankets, an’ a -covering; forby twa pair to spin, but my mither wadna gie me -crish to them, an ye ken the butter is dear now.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span></p> - -<p>Jockey. Then farewel the night Maggy; the best o’ friends -maun part, and so maun thy twa legs yet.</p> - -<p>Maggy. I wish you well, Johny, but sae nae mair till we be -married, and then lad.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -Hame gaed Maggy and tell’d her Mither. -</p> - -<p>Mag. O mither! I hae something to tell ye, but ye mauna -tell my father.</p> - -<p>Mither. Dear Maggy an what is that!</p> - -<p>Mag. Deed Mither, am gawn to be married an’ the muck -were out.</p> - -<p>Mith. Dear Maggy an wha’s thou gawn to get, it’s no -auld bubly Tammy.</p> - -<p>Mag. Na, na, he’s a bra young man, and has mair gear -nor ilka body kens o’, guess an I’ll tell you, it’s Johny Bell, -and his mither sent him to the market just to court me.</p> - -<p>Mith. Deed Maggy ye’ll no be ill youket wi’ him, he’s a -gay we’ll gawn fallow, right spruch, amaist like an ill-far’d gentleman. -Hey guidman, do ye hear that our Maggy is gawn -to be married an the muck were out.</p> - -<p>Father. Na, na, I’ll no allow that until the peats be cussen -and hurl’d.</p> - -<p>Mag. O father it’s dangerous to delay the like o’ that, I -like him, an he likes me, it’s best to strike the iron whan it’s -het.</p> - -<p>Fath. An wha is she gawn to get guidwife?</p> - -<p>Mith. An wha think ye guidman?</p> - -<p>Fath. A what wat I herie, an she please hersel, am pleas’d -already.</p> - -<p>Mith. Indeed she’s gawn to get Johny Bell, as cliver a -little fallow, as in a the barronry where he bides.</p> - -<p>Fath. A well, a well herie, she’s yours as well as mine, gie -her to wha ye please.</p> - -<p>Mith. A well Maggy, I’se hae a’ things ready, an I’ll hae -thee married or this month be done.</p> - -<p>Mag. Thanks to ye Mither, mony a good turn ye done -me, an this will be the best, I think.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -Hame gaed Jockey to his mither, crying. -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span></p> - -<p>Jock. Mither! Mither! I made it out, her mouth is sweeter -na milk, my heart plays a whiltie whaltie whan I kiss her.</p> - -<p>Mith. Fair fa’ thee my son Johny, thou’s gotten the geat -o’t at last, and whan is thou gawn to be married?</p> - -<p>Jock. Whan I like mither, but get the masons the morn, -to big me my house, for I’ll hae a’ my things in right good -order.</p> - -<p>Mith. Thou’s want for naething, my bairn, but pusht forward -as fast as ye can.</p> - -<p>The wooing being o’er and the day being set, Jockey’s -mither killed the black boul horn’d yeal Ewe, that lost her -lamb the last year, three hens and a gule fitted cock, to prevent -the ripples, five pecks o’ maut masket in the meikle kirn, -a pint o’ trykle to mak it thicker an sweeter an maumier for -the mouth; five pints o’ whisky wherein was garlic and spice, -for raising o’ the wind, an the clearing o’ their water; the -friends and good neighbours went a’ wi’ John to the kirk, -where Maggy chanced to meet him and was married by the -minister; the twa companies joined togither and came hame -in a croud, at every change house they chanced to pass by, -providence stopt their proceeding, with full stoups, bottles and -glasses drinking their healths, wishing them much joy, ten -girls and a boy: Jockey seeing so many wishing well to his -health, coupt up what he got, for to augment his health and -gar him live long, which afterwards coupt up him and proved -detrimental to the same.</p> - -<p>So home they came to the dinner, where his mother presented -to them a piping het haggies, made of the creish of the -black boul horn’d Ewe, boil’d in the meikle bag, mixt with -bear meal, onions, spice and mint: this haggis being supt -warm, the foaming swats and spice in the liquor set John’s -belly a bizin like a working fat, and he playing het fit to the -fidler, was suddenly seized with a bocking and rebounding, -gave his dinner such a backward ca that he lost a’ but the -grit bits scythed through his teeth; his mother cried to spence -him, and bed him wi’ the bride, his breeks being fill’d, they -washed both his hips, laid him in his bed, pale and ghostly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -was his face, and closed were baith his een, ah, cries his mither, -a dismal day indeed, his brithal and his burial may baith -be on ae day: some cuist water in his face, and jagg’d him -wi’ a needle; till he began to rouze himself up, and rap out -broken words, mither, mither, whar am I now? Whar are ye -my bairn says his mither, ye’re beddet, and I’ll bring the -bride to you. Beddet, and is my brithel done ells? Ay, said -she, here’s the bride come to ly down wi’ you: na, na, said he, -I’ll no ly wi that unco woman indeed, if it binna heeds and -thraws, the way that I lay wi’ my mither; O fy dinna affront -yoursel. The bride faus a crying. O mither, mither, was -this the way my father guided you the first night? Na, na, -thy father was a man o’ manners and better mettle, poor thing -Meg, thou’s caud thy hogs to a bonny market. A bonny -market, says his mither, a shame fa you and her baith, he’s -worthy o’ her tho’ she were better nor what she is, or e’er will -be. His friends an her friends being a mixt multitude, some -took his part some took her’s, there a battle began in the clap -of a hand, being a very fierce tumult which ended in blood, -they struck so hard with stones, sticks, beetles, and barrow -trams, pigs, pots, stoups, trunchers, were flying like bombs and -granades.</p> - -<p>The crook, bouls and tongs were all employed as weapons -of war: till down came the bed with a great mou of peats. So -this disturbed the treading.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="jmc-II"> -<p class="p2 center">THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN.</p> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></h3> - -<p class="noindent">Now though all the ceremonies of Jockey and Maggy’s -wedding were ended, when they were fairly bedded before a -wheen rattling unruly witnesses, who dang down the bed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -aboon them; the battle still encreased, and John’s works -turned out to be very wonderful; for he made Janet, that was -his mither’s lass the last year, grow like an Elshin shaft, and -got his Maggy wi’ bairn forby.</p> - -<p>The hamsheughs were very great until auld uncle Rabby -came into redd them, and a sturdy auld fallow he was, stood -stively wi’ a stiff rumple, and by strength of his arms rave -them sindry, flingin the tane east and the tither west, until -they stood a round about like as many breathless forfoughen -cocks, and no ane durst steer anither for him, Jockey’s -mither was driven o’re a kist, and brogget a her hips on a -round heckle, up she gat and rinning to fell Maggy’s mither -wi’ the ladle, swearing she was the mither of a’ the mischief -that happened, uncle Rabby ran in between them, he having -a great lang nose like a trumpet, she recklessly came o’er his -lobster neb a drive wi’ the ladle until the blood sprang out and -ran down his auld grey beard and hang like snuffy bubbles at -it; O! then he gaed wood, and looked as waefu like, as he -had been a tod lowrie, com’d frae worrying lambs, wi’ his -bloody mouth. Wi’ that he gets an auld flail, and rives away -the supple, then drives them a to the back o’ the door, -<ins class="corr" id="tn-16" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'but but yet nane'"> -but yet nane</ins> wan out; than wi’ chirten and chappen, down -comes the clay hallen and the hen bauk with Rab Reid the -fidler, who had crept up aside the hens for the preservation of -his fiddle.</p> - -<p>Ben comes the bride when she got on her coat, clappet -Rabby’s shoulder and bad him spare their lives: for their is -blood enough shed in ae night, quoth she, and that my beard -can witness, quoth he. So they a’ came in obedience to uncle -Rabby, for his supple made their pows baith saft and sair that -night; but daft Maggy Simson sat by the fire and picket -banes a’ the time o’ the battle: indeed quoth she, I think -ye’re a’ fools but mysel; for I came here to get a guid supper, -and other fouk has gotten their skin we’ll pait.</p> - -<p>By this time up got John the bridegroom, that was Jockey -before he was married, but could na get his breeks; yet wi’ a -horse nail he tacket his sark tail between his legs, that nane<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -might see what every body should hide, and rambling he cries -settle ye, or I’ll gar my uncle settle ye, and saften ye’re heads -wi’ my auld supple.</p> - -<p>Poor Rab Reid the fidler took a sudden blast; some said -he was maw-turn’d wi’ the fa’; for he bocked up a the barley -and then gar’d the ale go like a rain bow frae him as brown -as wort brose.</p> - -<p>The hurly burly being ended, and naething but fair words -and shaking o’ hands, which was a sure sign o’ an agreement, -they began to cow their cuttet lugs, and wash their sairs, a -but Jockey’s mither, who cries out a black end on a you and -your wedding baith: for I hae gotten a hunder holes dung in -my arse wi’ the heckle teeth.</p> - -<p>Jockey answers, A e’en had you wi’ them than mither, ye -will een be better sair’d.</p> - -<p>Up gets uncle Rabby, and auld Sandy the sutor o’ Seggyhole, -and put every thing in order; they prappet up the bed -wi’ a rake and rippling kame, the bearers being broken, they -made a solid foundation of peats, laid on the cauf bed and -bowsters, where Jockey and Maggy was beddet the second time.</p> - -<p>Jockey no being used to lie wi’ a naked woman, except -heads and thraws wi’ his mither, gets his twa hands about the -brides neck and his houghs out o’er her hurdies, saying, I -ne’er kist wife nor lass naked before, and for fainness I’ll bite -you, I’ll bite you, &c. Naithing mair remarkable till about -haf a year and four ukes thereafter, in comes Marion Mushet -rinning barefoot and bare legget, wi’ bleart cheeks and a watery -nose, cursing and banning, greeting and flyting.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -Marion enters. Crying, and whar’s John. -</p> - -<p>His mither answers. Indeed he’s out in the yard powing -Kail runts.</p> - -<p>Marion. A black end on a him and his runts baith, for he’s -ruin’d me and my bairn.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ruin’d you! it canna be; he never did you ill, nor -said you ill, be night or be day, what gars you say that?</p> - -<p>Mar. O woman! our Jenny is a’ rowing like a pack o’ woo; -indeed she’s wi’ quick bairn, and your John is the father o’t.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p> - -<p>Mith. Our John the father o’t! had, there enough said, -lying lown, I trow our John was ne’er guilty of sic a sinfu -action: Daft woman, I true it ill be but wind that hoves up -the lasses wame; she’ll hae drunken some sour drink like sour -sowens, or rotten milk that mak’s her sae.</p> - -<p>Mar. A wae be to him and his actions baith, he’s the -father o’t furnicator dog that he’s, he’s ruin’d me and my -bairn; I bore her and brought her up honestly, till she came, -to you; her father died and left me wi’ four o’ them, there -wasna ane o’ them cou’d pit on anither’s claes, or tak a louse -aff ither.</p> - -<p>Mith. I bid you had your tongue, and no even your bystarts -to my bairn, for he’ll ne’er tak wi’t: he, poor silly lad, he -wad ne’er look to a lass, be’s to lay her down. Fy Maggy cry -in o’ John, and let’s ratify’t wi’ the auld ruddoch: ay, ye’ere no -blate for saying sae.</p> - -<p>Mar. Be angry, or be well pleased, I’ll say’t in a your faces, -an I’ll ca you before your betters about it or lang gae.</p> - -<p>John enters. An what want ye now, is our brose ready yet?</p> - -<p>Mith. Ay brose, black brose indeed for thee, my bairn; -here Marion Mushet saying ye hae gotten her dochter wi’ bairn.</p> - -<p>Jock. Me mither? I ne’er lay in a bed wi’ her dochter a -my days, it’ll be the young lairds, for a saw him kiss her at -the Lammas fair, an let glam at her nonsense.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ay, ay, my man Johny, that’s the way she has gotten -her belly fu’ o’ bairns; it’s no you nor the like o’ you, poor -innocent lad, that gets bystart weans: a wheen filthy lowns, -every ane loups on anither, and gies you the wyte o’ a’.</p> - -<p>Mar. You may say what you like about it, it’s easy to ca’ -a court whar there’s nae body to say again, but I’ll tell you -a I ken about it, and that is what she tell’t me, and you guidwife -telt me some o’t yoursel; an gin you hadna brought in -Maggy wi’ her muckle tocher atween the twa, your Jockey and -my Jenny had a been man and wife the day.</p> - -<p>Jock. I wat weel that’s true.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ye filthy dog at ye are, are ye gaun to confess wi’ a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -bystart; and it no yours: dinna I ken as well as she do wha’s -aught it?</p> - -<p>Jock. Ay but mither, we may deny as we like about it, but -I doubt it come to my door at last.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ye silly sumff and senseless fallow, had ye been -knuckle deep wi’ the dirty drab, ye might a said sae, but ye -telt me lang syne that ye cou’d na lo’e her, she was so lazy -and lown like; besides her crooket fit and bow’d legs.</p> - -<p>Jock. Ay but mither, do ye mind since ye sent me out to -gie her the parting kiss, at the black hole o’ the peet stack; -she rave the button frae my breeks, and wad gar me do’t; and -bad me do’t, and cou’d flesh and blood refuse to do’t; I’m -sure mither, I cou’d ne’er get her wi’ bairn an my breeks on.</p> - -<p>Mith. Na, na, poor simple silly lad, the wean’s no yours, -ilk ane loups on of anither, and you’ll get the wyte o’ a bytarts -round about.</p> - -<p>Up gets Maggy wi’ a rore, and rives her hair, cries her back, -belly, and baith her sides; the weed and gut gaes thro’ my -flesh like lang needles, nails or elshin irons. Wae be ti’ the -day that e’er I saw his face, I had better married a tinkler, or -a followed the sogers, as mony an honest man’s dochter has -done, and liv’d a better life than I do.</p> - -<p>Up gets Jockey and rins o’er the rigs, for John Roger’s wife, -auld Katty the howdy, but or he wan back she parted wi’ -patrick thro’ perfect spite, and then lay twa fauld o’er a stool -in a swoon.</p> - -<p>Jock. A well, a well, sirs, since my first born is dead without -seeing the light o’ the warld; ye’s a get bread an cheese -to the blyth meat, the thing we shou’d a war’d on the banket -will sair the burial, and that will ay be some advantage: an -Maggy should die, I maun een tak Jenny, the tane is as far a -length as the tither: I’se be furnisht wi’ a wife between the twa.</p> - -<p>But Maggy turn’d better the next day, and was able to -muck the byre; yet there gead sic a tittle tattling thro’ the -town every auld wife tell’t anither o’t, and a’ the light hippet -hussies that rins between towns at een, tugging at their tow -rocks, spread it round the kintry; and every body’s mouth was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -filled wi’ Jockey and Jenny, and how Maggy had parted wi’ -bairn.</p> - -<p>At last Mess John Hill hears of the horrid action, and sends -the elder of that quarter and Clinkem Bell<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> the grave maker, -to summon Jockey and Jenny to the session, and to see how -the stool of repentance wad set them,<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> no sooner had they entered -the door but Maggy fa’s a greeting, and wringing her -hands; Jockey’s mither fell a fliting, and he himself a rubbing -his lugs, and riving his hair, saying, O gin I were but a half -ell higher, I sud be a soger or it be lang, and gie me a good -flail or a corn fork, I sud kill Frenchman enew, before I gaed -to face yon flyting ministers, an be set up like a warlds wonder, -on their cock-stool or black stool<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> an wha can bide the shame, -whan every body looks to them, wi’ their sacken sarks or -gowns on them,<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> like a piece of an auld canvass prickt about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -a body, for naething, but what every body does amaist, or -they be married as well as me.</p> - -<p>Mith. My man Johny, ye’re no the first that has done -it, an ye’ll no be the last; een mony o’ the ministers has -done it themselves, hout ay, your father and I did it mony a -time.</p> - -<p>Mag. Ay, ay, and that gars your son be so good o’t as he -is: the thing that is bred in the flesh is ill to pit out o’ the -bane.</p> - -<p>Mith. Daft woman what way could the warld stand, if -fouks wadna make use o’ ither, it’s the thing that’s natural, -bairns getting, therefore it’s no to be scunnert at.</p> - -<p>Mag. Ay, ay, but an they be for the like o’ that, they -should marry.</p> - -<p>Mith. But I think there’s little ill tho’ they try it yence or -twice or they be married; it’s an unco thing till a body to be -bound to a business, if they dinna ken whether they be able -for it or no.</p> - -<p>Mag. Ay, ay, that’s your way o’ doing and his, but its no -the way o’ ither honest fouk; see what the minister will say -to it.</p> - -<p>Mith. The minister is but a mortal man, and there’s defections -in his members as well as mine.</p> - -<p>Mag. Ay, but fouk should ay strive to mortify their members.</p> - -<p>Mith. An is that your Whigry? Will you or any body -else, wi’ your mortifying o’ your members, prevent what’s to -come to pass? I wish I saw the minister an his elders, but -I’se gie him scripture for a he’s done yet: tell na me about -the mortifying o’ members, gin he hae gotten a bystart let her -and him feed it between them an they sud gie’t soup about: -but she maun keep it the first quarter, an be that time muckle -black lady ’ill be cauft, we sall sell the cauf an foster the wean -on the cow’s milk: That’s better mense for a fault, than a’ -your mortifying o’ your members, and a’ your repenting-stools; -a wheen papist rites an rotten ceremonies, fashing fouks wi’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span> -sack gowns and buttock-males,<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> an I dinna ken what, but bide -you yet till I see the minister.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="jmc-III"> -<p class="p2 center">THE WONDERFUL WORKS OF OUR JOHN MADE -MANIFEST BEFORE THE MINISTER, &c.</p> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Part III.</span></h3> - -<p class="noindent">Now Jockey and his mither went into the little byre, and -held a private meeting, nane present but auld bruckie, and the -two brutes the bits a couties.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ye silly dog, an he be drown’d to you, how cou’d ye -confess sae muckle to maeslie shanket Marion, altho’ she be -her mither.</p> - -<p>Jock. O mither, mither, say nae mair about it, my ain -wand has dung me dourly; sadly have I suffered for that, and -ye ken a’ the misery’s com’d o’er our Maggy, my mouth’s the -mither o’t, sae ha’d your tongue I tell you now.</p> - -<p>Mith. An tell ye me to ha’d my tongue, an ye had a -hauden your tongue and your tail, an a done as I bade you, -ye hadna hane sae muckle ado the day daft silly dog it -thou is.</p> - -<p>Jock. Mither, mither, gies nane o’ your mocks nor malice, -for tho’ I got the wean, ye hae as muckle the wyte o’t as I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -Gae seek me out my three new sarks, an Sunday’s shune, an -I’se gae whar ne’er man saw my face before, neither wood, -water nor wilderness, sall haud me again.</p> - -<p>Mith. My braw man Johny, ye mauna do that, stay at -hame wi’ me, and set a stout heart till a stay brae, I’se gae to -the session wi’ you, gang whan ye like.</p> - -<p>Jock. A well mither, I sall do your bidden for ance yet, -but whan the minister flytes on me, answer ye him, for I -canna speak well again.</p> - -<p>Mith. Say nae mair, I hae a pokfu’ o’ perfect petitions to -louse an put to him an his elders, and if thou maun gae to -their black-stool, it’s no be thy lane sall sit upon’t.</p> - -<p>Jock. But mither, whether will I deny the doing o’t or -confess the game was at the getting o’t?</p> - -<p>Mith. Ay, ay, confess ye did it, but say but ance, and that -it was on the terms of marriage, the way that a’ our kintry -bystarts is gotten.<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> - -<p>Now Jockey being three times summon’d to the session and -did not appear, the session insisted for a warrant from the justice -of the peace,<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> which was readily granted, more for diversion -than justice’ sake, the warrant being given to John King -the constable, who went away with Clinkem Bell on Saturday’s -morning, and catch’d John just at his breakfast, hauls him -awa, ane at ilka oxter like twa butcher dogs hinging at a bull’s -beard, his mother followed, driving him up with good counsels, -my bra’ man Johny, haud up your head, dinna think -shame, for a’ your fauts is but perfect honey, you’re neither a -thief, whore nor horse stealer.</p> - -<p>Then Maggy ran for uncle Rabby, an uncle Rabby sent to -Sandy the Souter of Seggyhole, the Souter saddled his mare,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -and uncle Rabby got aff at the gallop on his gray powney -west the hags, an o’er by Whitehill shough, the nearest, and -was at Sir James the justices lang or John was brought into -judgment.</p> - -<p>John enters, before the justice, with a red, red face, Goode’en -Mr. Justice, Sir James, an’t please your honour ye manna put -me in prison, for am no malefactor, but a poor honest kintry-man, -that was born in an ill planet, my mither says’t I had the -ill luck of a misfortune to fa’ foul wi’ furnication, and got my -mither’s lass wi’ bairn the last year, and they’re gawn to father’t -on me the year again.</p> - -<p>The justice smiling, answer’d, indeed John I think it is but -very just and reasonable that ye be accountable this year for -your last years labours.</p> - -<p>Jock. Ay, ay, sir, I have laboured very sair since my father -died, but our plough canna get gaun for frost this four days.</p> - -<p>Just. Ay but John, that’s no what I mean, it’s the child ye -got last year, ye must be answerable for this.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed stir, there was twa o’ them, but there is ane -o’ them dead.</p> - -<p>Just. A well then John you’ll have the more to give the one -that’s alive.</p> - -<p>Jock. Oh! but stir, it’s my ain wean that’s dead, the ane I -got wi’ my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no.</p> - -<p>Just. Yours or no sir, when ye told me ye got it; if ye -should get it wi’ a beggar wife at the back of a dike what is -that to the purpose, when it is of your getting you must maintain -it.</p> - -<p>Jock. O! yes stir, am no refusing to gie meat and meal to -maintain’t; but my mither winna let me to the black-stool.</p> - -<p>Just. Why not go to the black-stool, when guilty of such -an action as deserves it, if you have any reasons why you -should not go, argument it in session and clear yourself if you -can.</p> - -<p>John’s mother enters, and addresses herself to the servant -lass, thinking she was the justice’s lady.</p> - -<p>Indeed mistress madam, if ye were a kintry good-wife, like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -mysel, I could tell you a’ about it, but you that’s gentiles, I -canna use freedom wi you, cause I hae na Latin. But waes -me we that’s poor fouk is born to mony fealins and backwart -faus, this lad is my son, an am his mither, he has had the foul -fortune to get a bystart bairn, nae doubt but we hae been a’ -guilty o’ as muckle and ne’er a word about it, a what say ye -madam?</p> - -<p>Off goes the lass, saying, Foul fa’ the wife, for I was never -guilty o’t.</p> - -<p>Just. Well goodwife, what is the reason but ye let your son -give satisfaction to the kirk?</p> - -<p>Mith. Deed stir, he’s no denying the bairn, but he’ll no -hae the black-stool.</p> - -<p>Just. Ay, but I tell you, them that gets a bystart, gets the -black-stool to the bargain, and as he is in my hands now, he -must find caution that he will answer the session and be -subject to the law.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ony thing ye like, stir, but that shamfu’ stance, the -black stool, here’s uncle Rabby, and auld Sandy the Sutor, -will be caution that we’s face the session on Sunday, the lad’s -wae enough he did it, but he canna help it now, the weans -born and by hand; Sae goodnight wi’ your honour’s ladyship -it’s the first time e’er I was before you.</p> - -<p>On Sabbath after sermon the session met, John and his -mother is call’d upon, he enters courageously, saying, Good-een -to you Master Minister, bellman and elders a’, my mither -and me is both here.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Then let her in, come awa goodwife, What’s -the reason you keep your son so long back from answering -the session? you see it is the thing you are obliged to do at last.</p> - -<p>Mith. Deed stir, I think there needs na be nae mair wark -about it, I think when he’s gien the lazy hulke, the mither o’t, -baith meal and groats<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> to maintan’t, ye need na fash him, he’s -a dutifu’ father indeed, weel a wat, whan he feeds his bystart -sae weel.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span></p> - -<p>Mess John. Woman are you a hearer of the gospel? that -ye reject the dictates of it, how come you to despise the discipline -of the church? Is not offenders to be rebuked and -chastised?</p> - -<p>Mith. Yes stir, a’ that is very true, but I hae been three or -four times through the Bible, and the New Testament, and I -never saw a repenting stool in’t a’; then whar cou’d the first -o’ them come frae, the Apostles had nane o’ them. But a daft -history book tells me, that the first o’ them was used about -Rome amang the Papists, and ay whan ony o’ them turn’d -Whigs, they were put on a four neuked thing, like a yarn -winnle blades, and rave a’ their gouls sindry till they turn’d -Papists again: and then for anger they put them on a black -stane or stool, in the mids o’ the kirk, and the seck goun about -them, wi’ the picture o’ the de’il and Satan on’t, a sweet be wi’ -us, we sudna speak o’ the ill thief in the kirk, but it is -a mercy the minister’s here an’ he come, but that was the -original of your repenting stools, and whan the whigs -chas’d awa the Papist fouk out o’ this kintry, they left a wheen -o’ their religious pictures, and the stool o’ repentance was -amangst the spoil, but yese no get my bairn to set upon a -thing as hich as a hen bawk, and ilka body to be glowring at -him.<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>Mess John. Woman I told you formerly that any who refuses -submission to the government of the church, is liable to -excommunication: and that we are to put the law in execution -against adultery and fornication, or the sin thereof, lies -partly on our head.</p> - -<p>Mith. As for your sin of adultery, I have naething ado -wi’t; I ken my son is a fornicator, and ye can neither mak -him better nor war nor he is, there’s nae man can keep a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -standing in their ain hand, fortune I mean, if it be a sin let -him confess’t, and forsake it, and wi’s pay the buttock-mail -and mak nae mair about it.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Goodwife you need not think your son will -pass so, more than others that has been before him, he must -actually come before the congregation three sabbaths before -he be absolved from the scandal, and get the benefit of any -church privileges like any other honest man.</p> - -<p>Mith. Indeed Mess John, my son will never set his hips -upon’t; if he maun come before you, I’se gar him stand a bit -a back frae’t and hear what ye hae to say about fornication, -twa harmless free bodies, passing their trials to see what they -can do, ye that’s whigs may mak enough o’t, but I think na -muckle about it.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Woman you may go home and see what ye -have to do; ye have a very bad tongue: it’s no you we are to -take account of.</p> - -<p>Mith. Ay, ay, ye that’s ministers and modest fouk may -say sae, but if my son had tane as good tent o’ his tail, as I -can do o’ my tongue, there had na been sae muckle about it, -a wheen silly loons kens na what they were made for, or how -to guide a thing whan they get it.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Put her out, she’s going to speak baudy.</p> - -<p>Mith. O ay, stir, I’se gang out, but I’ll hae my bairn out -wi’ me.</p> - -<p>Mess John. We must first ask some few questions at him, -there is no harm can come on him here.</p> - -<p>Mith. For as good company as you think yourselves, I -wad rather hae him in anither place.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -John’s kept in and his mother put out. -</p> - -<p>Mess John. Well John, you must tell us whether this child -was gotten before ye was married, or since: for I suppose by -the time of the birth it is much about the same time.</p> - -<p>Jock. Hout ay, stir, it was gotten lang or I was married, I -need na forget the getting, it was na sae easy to me.</p> - -<p>Mess John. How long is it since ye was first acquaint?</p> - -<p>Jock. Just when she came to be my mither’s lass, I never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -saw her but ance before, and gin I had never seen her, I had -never kend her in sic a fashious fashion.</p> - -<p>Mess John. How long was she serving with your mother.</p> - -<p>Jock. Just twa hail-yerts: and I got her wi bairn about a -year after she came, and its no a year yet since I was married.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Dear John there is a contradiction indeed, a -woman cannot go two years with child.</p> - -<p>Jock. Deed stir, it was then the wean was first gotten.</p> - -<p>Mess John. A John, John, I find you out to be a sinful -liver, you and that woman has had carnal dealings for some -time; it is ill keeping the cow out of the corn, if she once got -a way of going to it, ye should actually a married the poor -woman, when ye cohabited so long together.</p> - -<p>Jock. No stir, we didna cow habit, tho’ she kist me, and I -kist her, sometimes in the barn, and sometimes in the byre: -nane ken’t o’t but my mither, an’ she wadna let me tak her, -but sent me awa to court our Maggy.</p> - -<p>His mother cries through the hole o’ the door: A ye senseless -sumph, is that a’ the thanks I get for counselling you to -do weel, war na me ye wad a been married on a lownlike -leepet lazy lump, who had neither wit nor wyles, no say much -judgment as wyfe the wind frae her tail but lute it gang afore -fouks.</p> - -<p>Up gets the elders crying, Fy, fy, Duncan the bell-man -drive that wicked wife frae the door she disturbs us all.</p> - -<p>Duncan runs to the door whispering, shame fa you for a -wife had out o’ that: but I wad rather hear you, as hear them yet.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Now John will you be so plain as tell me -whether ye promist to marry the woman or no, when ye lay -with her.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na stir, I didna lie wi’ her, for the herd and me lay -in the byre-bed, and she lay in the little lang sadle at the -hallen end.</p> - -<p>Mess John. It is all one whether ye lay with her or not, -when ye have got her with child, that’s what ye confess.</p> - -<p>Jock. I kenna whither I got her wi’ bairn or no: but I did -wi’ her as I did wi’ our Maggy, when she fell wi’ bairn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span></p> - -<p>Mess John. But the question is, whether or no, did you -promise to marry her when that child was gotten?</p> - -<p>Jock. Hut, tut, stir, ye wad fash fouk spiering a’ thing, it -was her that promist to marry me for the getting o’t.</p> - -<p>Mess John. And did not you do the like to her?</p> - -<p>Jock. A what needed I do the like when she and my -mither did it a’ but the wean getting, she could na do that.</p> - -<p>Mess John. Indeed John you seem to have been a parcel -of loose livers altogether.</p> - -<p>Jock. A loose stir, I wish I were loose yet, better be loose -than bun to an ill stake.</p> - -<p>Mess. John. I see it is needless for me to enquire any -further into the matter, I find you out guilty, therefore, you -must appear publicly on the stool of repentance on Sabbath -next, and the two following thereafter, or ye be absolved from -the scandal.</p> - -<p>Jock. Indeed master minister, am very easy about repentance, -and for your stool, its a seat am very indifferent about, -for am but bashful, and as I was never guilty o’ getting bystarts, -either before or sin syne, except in thoughts, words, deeds and -actions, I think ye may een let me pass, I suffered enough -wi’ the clash o’ the kintry, and loss o’ my ain wain, it was -nae bystart, ye canna gar me stand for that.</p> - -<p>Mess John. You appear to be such a stupid fellow, the like -of you should neither have lawful child or bastard, and I -admire that such an ideot as you, was allowed to be married -to any woman; and you James, who is the elder of that proportion, -should have given information of this man’s capacity, -before he was joined to a wife.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span></p> - -<p>Elder. Indeed sir, ye ken very well, he answered the questions -at the examine, better nor any other fouks, and I think -he is best married, for he might a gotten mae bystarts and -fasht us.</p> - -<p>Jock. Indeed stir, it’s very true, for when ance I got the -gate o’ women, I cou’d na bide aff them, but our Maggy was -unco cunnen, she wad na let me do naething but kiss her and -kittle her till ance we was married.</p> - -<p>Mess John. I’ll ask no more questions at him: call on his -mother, (in she comes,) Goodwife, we have ordered your son -to appear three Sabbaths on the stool an’ there to be reproved -before the congregation publicly an’ be absolved from the -scandal.</p> - -<p>Mother. Than the ill thief be in his a—se Mess John, gin -e’er he set his hips upon’t, my bairn on your black stool? and -wadna’t be a great blunder on the auld black face o’t, to my -son to gang on’t before the young laird, who has had twa bystarts -and ne’er set a hip on’t yet, and he’s continually riding -on the hussies to this day, and them that wadna let him, he -rives their duds, and kicks their doups. A dear Mess John, -an ye gie gentle fouk a toleration to whore, to fornicate, kiss -an’ kuddle a wee, wi’ ilka body they like, I’ll gie you ten marks -and gie’t to me and my son too.</p> - -<p>Mess John. And what shall we do with these odious persons?</p> - -<p>Elders. Indeed, sir, we see not what we can make of them.</p> - -<p>Mess. John. Make of them, we’ll exclude them from all -church benefit, and lay them under the lesser excommunication.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>Mith. Indeed stir, tak your mind o’t as our cat did o’ the -haggies, when she sippit it a’, and crap in o’ the bag.</p> - -<p>If ye winna christen the wean, ye canna hinder us to cast a -cogfu’ o’ water on the face o’t, and ca’t ony thing we like.</p> - -<p>So out she goes shooting Jockey before her, so John went -and pisht on the auld minister’s widow’s gavel, and there was -nae mair about it that day.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="jmc-IV"> -<p class="p2 center">HOW JOCKEY AND HIS MOTHER WENT AWAY -TO SEE HIS BASTARD CHILD, &c.</p> -</div> - -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part IV.</span></h3> - -<p>Now Jockey and his mither came hame together, cheek for -chow cracking like twa hand guns.</p> - -<p>Moth. I trow I have fought a battle this day, and win the -field condingly, whan I hae conquer’d a’ the canker’d carles -about the kirk.</p> - -<p>Jock. Indeed mither I think ye are a better man nor the -minister, and gin ye had Arithmattock and Latin, to ken the -kittle figures you may preach as well as he.</p> - -<p>Moth. I true Jock lad their black stool o’ sham repentance -ne’er got sic a rattle as I hae gient the day.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na, na, mither, a’ the whoremongers that ever set a -hip on’t kens na sae muckle about the auld foundation o’t as -ye do.</p> - -<p>Moth. But Johny man, an’ thou wad start in the morning, -the first o’ the daft days,<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> and that’s on Munday, ye an’ I wad -go and see the daft jade, Jenny the mither o’t.</p> - -<p>Jock. Wi’ a’ my heart mither, but wi maun giet something -an’ it were an auld servet, or an auld sark to keep the hips o’t -warm, young weans is ay wet about the a—se ye ken.</p> - -<p>Moth. A well then Johny, I’se cry to thee whan the hens -begin to keckle, and that’s about the break o’ day, an’ wees -be ready to tak the road again Torryburn day light, whan -weel ken a turd by a stane.</p> - -<p>Up gets auld Maggy, Jocks mither in the morning, puts on -the kettle, and maks her Yool sowens, the meikle pot hung on -the fire a’ night wi’ the cheek of an auld cows head, skims aff -the fat an’ mak’s a great cog o’ brose, then pours on a chappen -o’ clean creish like oil, which made a brave sappy breakfast for -Jockey and his mither, and Maggy got the cog to scart.</p> - -<p>The brose being done and a’ thing ready, he halters the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -black mare, lays on the sunks and a covering, fine furniture -for a country wife.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> - -<p>Jockey mounts, and his mother behind him, trots awa, till -coming down the brae abune John Davie’s well; the auld beast -being unfiery o’ the feet, she fundred before, the girth and -curple brake, Jockey tumbled o’er her lugs, and his mother out -o’er him in the well wi’ a slung.</p> - -<p>Jock. Ay, ay, mither, tho’ I fell ye needna faun abune me, -an’ gin ye had lyne whar ye lighted first, ye wadna tumbl’d -into the well; its an unco thing that a body canna get -a fa’ but ye maun fa’ abune them: auld ruddoch it thou is, -thou might a hauden better by the rumple, an’ ye wadna a -bruised a my back wi’ your auld hard banes, nor a wat a’ -yoursel say, and see how ye hae drummel’d a John Davie’s -well.</p> - -<p>Moth. Hech quo she, I wonder gin I be kill’d, thou always -was wont to get the word of a good rider, baith upon hussies -and horses, an’ this be thy management thou’s little worth; -fel’d the auld beans it bore thee! sic a bath as I hae gotten to -my Yool, thou coudna gien me a war bed nor a water hole in -a cauld frosty morning: wae be to thee an’ that ill gotten gett -o’ thine, O! let never better bounty be gotten wi’ bystarts -getting, an’ this is so much for the fruits o’ fornication, a war -stance nor the black-stool yet.</p> - -<p>Jock. Let’s a be now wi’ your auld taunts about bystarts -getting, or I’se gie you the wind o’ the mare’s tail, an’ gar you -wammel hame an’ a’ your wate coats about you.</p> - -<p>Moth. Na, na, my man Johny, haud the auld jade till I -loup on, we came together, and wi’s gang together, wi sall see -thy bystart and its mither or wi gae hame.</p> - -<p>Jock. Wi’ a’ my heart mither, but yonder the house an’ the -hens on’t, the lums reeking rairly, but little ken they wha’s -coming.</p> - -<p>At length they came to Jenny’s mother’s door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">In goes his mother and in goes his mare,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Himself follows after, cries how’s a’ here?</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Moth. Hech, is that poor body in her bed yet?</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -Her mother answers, -</p> - -<p>Well a wat she’s in her bed, an’ cauld cauld, and comfourtless -is her lying; bystarts getting is just like lent gear, seldom -or ever weel paid back again; but my poor lassie coudna done -war nor she’s done, O! gin she had yielded her body to some -bit herd laddie, he wad a seen her lang or now.</p> - -<p>Moth. A dear Marrion what wad ye be at? Do ye think -that our John wha has a wife o’ his ain, cou’d come an’ wait -on her as she were a dame o’ honour, or yet an honest man’s -wife, poor silly lown it she is, an’ he had thought on what he -was com’d o’ he wad ne’er a offer’d benevolence to the like o’ -her.</p> - -<p>Mar. An’ ye had been as great an instrogater against -his making her double ribbet, as ye’re now against doing -her justice, for the filthy jimcrack he’s gien her, ye wadna need -to ca’ her silly lown the day, an him an honest man; but the -ne’er an honest man wad a hoddl’d sae lang on a ae poor -hussie an’ then gane awa an a married anither for love of a -pickle auld clouts, and twa three pock-fou’s o’ tow: an she is -but a silly lown indeed that lute him or ony rattle-scul else, -shake their tail so lang upon her, without his faith, an’ his -troth, an’ his fist before the minister.</p> - -<p>Moth. A cauld be your cast kimmer, do ye think it your -dadeling daughter’s a match fit for my son John; I think less -may sair, her father was but a poor cotter carle, an’ our John’s -father was a farmer, an’ its but a trick o’ youth, an’ the course -of youdeth maun be out; but she may thank good fortune an’ -tell her friends ay, an’ count it a credit that ever she bore a -bystart to the like o’ him; a good fu fat farmer’s son, but ae -laigher nor a laird.</p> - -<p>Mar. A wae be to sic a credit it’s no worth the cracking o’, -an’ whar was a’ his noble equals whan he bute to lay a leg on -a my poor lassie, poor clarty clukny it thou is? an’ if they warna<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -baith ae man’s mak I wad think naething o’t; for they warna -a needle o’ differ between their dadies an’ what war they baith -but twa sticket taylors at the best? ye had as good a gane -hame an’ a counted bow-kail stocks, as to come here to count -kindred wi’ me.</p> - -<p>Jock. Hout awa daft witless wives, I kenna what you’re -flyting about, I wad rather see the wean gin it be ony thing -wally and like the warld.</p> - -<p>Mar. Indeed sall ye John, you’ll see your ain picture for -little siller, a muckle mouth’t haverel it is just like yoursel.</p> - -<p class="pad20pc"> -The child is presented. -</p> - -<p>Jock. Mither, mither, it has a muckle mouth just like mine, -an’ sees wi’ baith ot’s een, an bit five days auld yet.</p> - -<p>Moth. Dear Johny thou’s no wise man, wad tu hae the -wean to be blin, the poor thing saw whan it was new born.</p> - -<p>Jock. A what ken I mither, am no sae weel skill’d as the -howdies, an’ them that’s ay hobbling weans: but I thought -they had a been like the wee bit’s a whalpies, nine nights auld -before they had seen ony.</p> - -<p>Moth. Awa, awa, ye witless widdyfu’, comparing a beast -till a woman’s ain bairnie: a dog is a brute beast, an’ a wean -is a chrisen’d creature.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na mither, its no a chrisen’d creature yet, for hit has -neither gotten the words nor the water, nor as little do I ken -how to ca’t yet.</p> - -<p>Mar. I wat well it’s a very uncanny thing to keep about -a house, or yet t’ meet in a morning, a body wanting a -name.<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> - -<p>Moth. Hout tout ay, ye it’s auld wives is ay fu o’ frits an’ -religious fashions, them that looks to frits, frits follows them, -but it is six and thirty years since I was a married wife, an’ I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -never kend a sabbath day by a nither ane, mony a time till -the bell rang.</p> - -<p>Mar. Dear guidwife what needs ye speak so loud? ye -fright the wean wi’ crying sae, see as it starts.</p> - -<p>Moth. Ay, ay, the bystarts is a’ that way, but ken ye the -reason o’ that?</p> - -<p>Mar. Ye that kens the reason of everything may soon find -out that too.</p> - -<p>Moth. A deed than woman I’ll tell you, the merry begotten -weans, its bystarts I mean, is red wood, half wittet hillocket -sort o’ creatures: for an it be nae ane among twenty o’ them, -they’re a’ scar’d o’ the getting, for there’s few o’ them gotten -in beds like honest fouk’s bairns; but in out-houses, auld -barns, backs o’ dikes, and kil-loggies; whar there’s ay somebody -wandering to scar poor needfu’ persons, at their job of journay-wark: -for weel ken I the gaits o’t, experience gars me speak.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed mither that’s very true, for whan I was getting -that wean at the black hole o’ the peat stack, John Gammel’s -muckle Colly came in behind us wi’ a bow wow, of a great -goul just abune my buttocks; an’ as I’m a sinner, he gart me -loup laveruck height, an’ yet wi got a wean for a’ that.</p> - -<p>Moth. A weel than Johnny that mak’s my words good yet.</p> - -<p>Jenny answers out o’ the bed. A shame fa your fashions -ye hae nae muckle to keep whan ye tell how it was gotten, -or what was at the getting o’t.</p> - -<p>Jock. A shame fa yoursel Jenny, for I hae gotten my -part o’ the shame else, an’ gin ye hadna tell’d first there wad -nane kend, for nae body saw us but John Gammel’s auld colly -an’ he’s no a sufficient witness.</p> - -<p>Mar. Now guidwife amang a’ your tales ye hae tell’d me, -how is this wean to be maintain’d?</p> - -<p>Moth. Ill chance on your auld black mouth Marrion, did I -not send you my guid sprittled hen, a pund of butter and a -sixpence, forby a libby o’ groats an’ a furlat o’ meal; mak her -a guid cogfu’ o’ brose, an’ put a knoist o’ butter in them, to -fill up the hole whar the lown came out, an’ I’ll send mair or -that be done.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span></p> - -<p>Mar. An it be na better nor the last ye may een keep it -to your sell; your groat meal, and gray meal, sand dust and -seeds, course enough to feed cocks an’ hens, besides a woman -in her condition.</p> - -<p>Moth. A foul be your gabs, ye’re a sae gash o’ your gabbies; -a whine fools that stives up your gutses wi’ guid meat, -to gar the worms turn wanton and wallop in your wames; -feed yourselves as I do, wi’ hacket kail brose, made o’ groat -meal, an’ gray meal, sand, seeds, dust an’ weak shilling, ony -thing is good enough to fill the guts an’ make a t—d of.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na, na, mither an’ the wean wad suck our Maggy, I -sud take it hame in my oxter.</p> - -<p>Moth. O ye fool, Maggy’s milk is a mould salt and sapless -lang syne; but I trow she wad keb at it, as the black ew did -at the white ews lamb the last year, sae speak nae mair o’ -Maggy’s milk, no to compare a cat to a creature, the yeal cats -is never kind to kitlens, an’ the maiden’s bairns is a’ unco -weel bred.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na, na, ye’re a’ mistane mither, Maggy has milk yet -for every pap she has is like a burn pig, I’se warrand ye they’ll -haud pints the piece.</p> - -<p>Moth. My man Johny let them keep the wean, that has -the wean, we’ll never miss a pockfu’ of meal now and tan, I -wadna hae my bed pisht and blankets rotten for a bow o’ the -best o’t.</p> - -<p>Jock. O mither! I canna lea’t I like it say weel it has twa -bonny glancing een, just like mine in a keeking glass, I wonner -how I was able to get the like o’t, indeed mither I think -mare o’ it, nor I do o’ my gray horse, Maggy an’ the four ky.</p> - -<p>Moth. My man Johnny ye’re at nae strait about bairns -getting, nane needs to gang to London to learn that auld -trade; I ken very weel when ane gets warklums right to their -hand, nature will teach them how to fa’ to.</p> - -<p>Jock. Now fare ye weel Janet, that wean is weel worth -the warkmanship, I’ll warrand ye weel a wat ist.</p> - -<p>Jenny. Guidnight wi’ you John, but O man thou’s broken -my fortune, I’ll never get mair o’ a man nor I hae gotten, an’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -dear, dear, hae I suffer’d for what I hae done, an’ if thou had -a bestowed thyself on a me, ye see what a bonny bairn time -we had a hane.</p> - -<p>Moth. Thou says it thou’s suffer’d sadly for what thou’s -done, but though they wad take the hide o’er thy een holes it -wadna tak the inclination out o’ thee; for thou’ll do’t again, -but it’s no wi my bairn I’se warrand thee, an’ now Johnny -come awa hame to thy hauf marrow an’ use thy freedom as -formerly, thou’ll hae weans thick and three fauld; I’se make -thee a decoction of cock stanes, lamb stanes, an’ chicken broe, -will gar thee cock thy tail like a mevies an’ canter like a Galloway -toop.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="p2 chapter" id="jmc-V"> -<h3><span class="smcap">THE Vth AND LAST PART.</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class="blockquotx"> - -<p><em>Being an Account of Jockeys Mother’s Death and Burial: -With an Elegant Elegy and Epitaph on that occasion—The -Baptizing of his two Children, and how he mounted -the stool.</em></p></div> - -<p class="noindent">As Jockey and his mither came hobbling hame together on -the out side of the auld doil’d beast his mither’s black mare; a -waefu’ misfortune befel them;—Her hinderlets being wickedly -wet, in John Davie’s well that morning, and it being a frosty -night, her coats was a’ frozen round about her and the hard -harn sark plaid clash between her legs like a wet dish clout, -her teeth gaed like a rattle bag till almost haf gate hame, then -she was suddenly seiz’d wi’ a rumbling in her muckle bag, -what we kintry fouks ca’s a rush i’ the guts; Jockey was -fash’d helping her aff and helping her on, foul, fat and dirty -was the road, having like half a T——d as ever tadder length.</p> - -<p>Jock. Deed mither, I doubt death has something to do wi’ -you, for there’s a rumbling in a your wame like an auld wife -kirning.</p> - -<p>Mith. Hout tout I canna hear o’t, but they’ll be na fear o’ -me now, I’m safe at my ain door, thanks to thee an’ the auld<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -beast it brought me; heat my feet wi’ the bannock stane, an’ -lay me in my bed, fling four pair o’ blankets an’ a cann’os on -me, I’ll be weel enough an’ ance I were better, swieth Maggy -gae mak me a cogfu’ o’ milk brose, an’ a placks worth o’ spice -in them, nae fear of an auld wife as lang as she’s loose behin, -an can tak meat.</p> - -<p>Jock. I’se be’t mither, a e’en fill up the boss o’ your belly, -you’ll stand to the storm the better, I’se warran ye never die -as lang as you can tak your meat.</p> - -<p>Ben comes Maggy wi’ the brose; but four soups an’ a slag -filled her to the teeth, till she began to bock them back again, -and ding awa the dish.</p> - -<p>Jock. A mither, mither I dout there’s mair ado wi’ you nor -a dish to lick: whan ye refuse guide milk meat, I’m doubtfu’ -your mouth be gaun to the mules.</p> - -<p>Mith. A dear Johnny am no willin to die if I could do -better: but this will be a sair winter, on auld frail fouks, yet -an’ I wou’d grow better I might live these twenty years yet, -an’ be nae auld wife for a’ that: but alake a day there is e’en -mony auld fouk dying this year.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed mither there is fouks dying the year that -never died before.</p> - -<p>Mith. Dear Johnny wilt thou bring me the doctor he may -do me some guide, for an my heart warna sick an’ my head -sae sair, I think I may grow better yet.</p> - -<p>Jock. A weel mither, I’se bring the doctor, the minister, -an’ my uncle.</p> - -<p>Mith. Na, na, bring nae ministers to me, his dry cracks ’ll -do me but little guid, I dinna want to see his powder’d pow, -an’ I in sic an ill condition; get me a pint o’ drams in the -muckle bottle, an’ set in the bole in the back side o’ my bed.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed mither ye’re in the right o’t, for ye want to -be weel warm’d within; to chace the call wind an’ frosty -water out at your back side.</p> - -<p>Then awa he rins to draff Meg’s at the Kirktown, an’ brings -a bottle in every hand, out wi’ the cork an’ gies her ane in o’er, -she sets it to her gab an’ squattles up a mutchkin at a waught,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -which was like to wirry her till she fell a rifting and roaring -like an auld blunder-bush.</p> - -<p>Mith. Hech hay, co’ she, but that maks an alteration and -wears awa the wind.</p> - -<p>Wi’ that her head fell to the cod and she sughte awa, like a -very saint or drunken sinner.</p> - -<p>Jock. O! Maggy, Maggy, my mither’s lost her breath, -(she’ll no live lang without it,) I doubt she be dead already, -and nae body seen her but ye and I and oursels twa; an’ she -had been fair o’er seen it maksna, I’ll no ha’d this a fair strae -death indeed, fy Maggy, cry in a’ the neighbours to see her -die, although she be dead. O an’ she wad but shake her fit, -or wag her muckle tae, it wad ay be some satisfaction:<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> but -in came the neighbours in a hush, dinging ither down in the -door.</p> - -<p>Jock. Come awa sirs, for my mither’s as dead as a mauk, -good be thanket for’t; but I’d rather it had a been the black -mare, or the muckle rigget cow, for weel a wat I’ll een miss -her, for she was a bra spinner o’ tow; an’ cou’d a cardet to -twa muckle wheels, she had nae faut but ane an that was her -tongue, but she’ll speak nae mair, fy gets a dale or a barn door -to straught her on, for ay whan she was cauld she was unco -kankert an’ ill to curch, but I’se hae her yerdet on Wednesday -teen.</p> - -<p>Come, come, says Maggy, wi maun hae her drest.</p> - -<p>Jock. What does the fool mean? wad ye dress a dead -woman, she’ll never gang to kirk nor market a’ her days again.</p> - -<p>Mag. A dear John be at ease, ye ken she mauna be buried -as she is, a sark and winding sheet is the least she can get.</p> - -<p>Jock. Ah ha Maggy is that what you mean, she has a guid -new windin sheet, it was never about her shoulders yet,<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> say<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -Maggy do’t a’ yoursell, and I’se gar clinkem Bell misure the -grave and mak it.</p> - -<p>Now when they brought out the corps John told the people -they were welcome, to haud in a cheek o’ his auld mither wast -the gate; and being laid right on the spakes,<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> ha! ha! quoth -he, this is a braw honestly indeed, its mair boukie nor my -bridal was, but when they came to the grave, it was o’er short -and strait about the mouth, which set John in a great -passion, saying a foul fa your naughty fashions master bell -man, did not I packshon wi’ you for the bried o’ my mither’s -back and the length o’ her carkage? an’ this hole winna haud -her thou’s get nae mair o’ my change if I sude die the morn.</p> - -<p>Uncle Rabbie. Whisht, whisht, stir, this sude be a day o’ -mourning for your mither, dinna flyte here.</p> - -<p>Jock. What the vengeance uncle, sudna fouks die when -they’re auld? an’ am to pay for a hole and get but haf a hole; -that’s the thing that vexes me, but I’se keep twopence out o’ -his trencher for’t, an’ se will I een; but gang ye hame uncle -to get cog and cap for the dradgey, and I’ll see her get fair -play or I gae.</p> - -<p>Hame they came in a croud and fell to the cheese and -cheeks of leaves tuth and nail, the ale was handed about in -cogs and caps, lashing it down o’er like bletchers watering -their webs; John blutter’d in the cog like a cow in warm -water, till the barm and bubbles came belling out at his nose, -saying, a guide health to you a round about, an shoon and -shortly may wi a gang the gate may mither’s gane, an’ I wish -them a burying amang the dogs that speaks against it.<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span></p> - -<p>About eight and twenty weeks thereafter Maggy had a -wally weame fu of weans to bear, an’ ay whan she cryed, John -cryed, which made a’ the kimmers and auld Katty the howdie -laugh heartily to hear them.</p> - -<p>Katty. Here now John, your wife’s brought to bed wi’ a -bra lad bairn, gie him your blessing.</p> - -<p>Jock. Well I wat he’s no want that, but an’ there had a -been samuckle din at the getting o’ him, as at the bearing o’ -him, it sude ne’er a been gotten for me: Come, come, gets in -uncle Rabbie, the com riddle fu’ of the three nucket scons, -whang down the cheese like peats, eat and drink<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> as at my -mither’s dradgey, till wi forget our sorrow, and then weel see -Mess John about a name till him; since wi see its the way o’t, -that the young comes into the warld and chases out the auld, -wi maun chrisen them, and they maun bury us.</p> - -<p>Now John and his uncle goes to the minister, he enters, -saying, guideen to you Mr. Minister ye dinna ken my mither’s -dead?</p> - -<p>Minister. Yes John I heard so: but how is your wife?</p> - -<p>Jock. My wife stir a wae worth her, for the wives o’ our -town an’ I hae gotten a waking night wi’ her; but wi hae gotten -her turn’d and still’d again, she’s born a bra wally thumping -stirra, he’ll herd the kye belyve to me an’ he had huggers on -him, an’ am come to you to get a bit name to him.</p> - -<p>Minister. A bit name to him John, if ye want no more but -a name, ye may gie him that yourself.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na but stir, I want baith the words and the water, -what ye say to ither fouks say to me.</p> - -<p>Minister. A but John you must give security or satisfaction, -you’re a man under scandal.</p> - -<p>Jock. What the muckle mischief stir, though under scandal -or abune scandal, will ye refuse to chrisen my wean that’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -honestly gotten in my ain wife’s bed beneath the blankets; -caus I had a bystart, canna ye chrisen the weel com’d ane, let -the bystart stand for its ain skaith without a name.</p> - -<p>Minister. No John you have been too slackly dealt with, -I’ll bring you to obedience by law, since you reject counsel.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed stir, I wad think naething to stan a time or -twa on’t to please you, if there were nae body in the kirk on -a uke day, but you an’ the elders to flyte a wee on me; but -its war on a Sunday, to hae a’ body looking and laughing at -me, as I had been coding the piese, suppen the kirn, or something -that’s no bonny like pissing the bed.</p> - -<p>Minister. A well John never mind you these things, come -ye to the stool, its nothing when its over we cannot sae o’er -much to you about it.</p> - -<p>Upon Sunday thereafter John comes in with uncle Rabbies -auld wide coat, a muckle great gray lang tail’d wig and a big -bonnet, which cover’d his face, so that he seem’d more like an -old Pilgrim than a young fornicator; mounts the creepy<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> with a -stiff stiff back as he had been a man of sixty, every one looked -at him, thinking he was some old stranger who knew not the -stool of repentance by another seat, so that he passed the first -day unknown but to very few, yet or the second it came to be -known, that the whole parish and many more came to see -him; which caused such a confusion that he was absolved, -and got his children baptized the next day.</p> - -<p>But there happened a tullie between the twa mother’s who -would have both their names to be Johns, a weel, a weel says -old John their father to the minister, deed stir ye maun ca’ the -tean John an’ the tither Jock, and that will please baith these -enemies o’ mankind.</p> - -<p>Minister. A well John suppose ye do, it is still twa Johns -nevertheless.</p> - -<p>Jock. A deed stir, ye maun gie the wicked a’ their will, -wi’s ca’ the bystart Jockie, an’ my son Johnny Bell; On wi’t -some way and let her ca’t as she likes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span></p> - -<p>Minister. A dear John but ye speak indifferently about -this matter, ye know not the nature of it.</p> - -<p>Jock. A mony thanks to you Mess John, now caus ye hae -chrisend baith my bairn and my bystart I hope you’ll forgive -me the buttock mail.</p> - -<p>Minister. John I desire you to be silent and to speak none -here: You must keep a straight walk in time coming, free of -scandal or offence.</p> - -<p>Jock. Ay stir an’ how think ye the like o’ me can wak -straight wi’ sic auld shevelin heel’d shune as mine, amang such -rugh rigs, highs an’ hows as I hae to harl through.</p> - -<p>Minister. I need not speak to you, you are but a poor -mean ignorant person.</p> - -<p>Jock. Na stir welawat am neither poor nor yet mean, my -mither’s fairly yerdet now guide be thanket, and left a’ she -had to Maggy and me.</p> - -<p>Minister. But hear ye this John, ye must not kiss any -other woman nor<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> your own wife, live justly like another -honest christian, and you’ll come to die well.</p> - -<p>Jock. A black end on a me stir, in ever I lay an unlawfu -leg upon hissie again an they sude lie down to me while our -Maggy lests; and for dying <ins class="corr" id="tn-43" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'their's nae fear'"> -there’s nae fear</ins> o’ that, but I’ll no -get fair play if ye an’ a’ the aulder fouk in the parish be not -dead before me, so I hae done wi’ ye now.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="p2 center">An EPITAPH.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here lies the dust of John Bell’s Mither,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Against her will, death’s brought her hither;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Clapt in this hole, hard by his dady,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Death snatch’t her up, or she was ready;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lang might she liv’d wer’t not her wame,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But wha can live beyond their time?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s none laments her but the Suter,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">So here she lyes looking about her;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Looking about her! how can that be?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yes, she sees her state, better than we.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="p2 tb" /> - -<p class="p2 center">An ELEGY on the Death of <span class="smcap">Jockey’s Mother</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Now a’ body ken’s my Mither’s dead,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For weel a wat I bore her head,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And in the grave I saw her laid,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">It was e’en right drole,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For her to change a warm fire side:</div> - <div class="verse indent18">For a cauld kirk-hole.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">But every ane tell’st just like a sang,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That yon’s the gate we have to gang,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For me to do it, I think nae lang,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">If I can do better.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For I trow my Mither thinks it nae sang,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">What needs we clatter.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">But thanks to death ay for the futer,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That did not let her get the Suter,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For about her gear wad been a splutter,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">And sae had been,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For he came ay snoaking about her,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">Late at een.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">For our Maggy watch’t and saw,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My Mither’s back was at the wa’,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But what was mair hach ha’ hach ha’</div> - <div class="verse indent18">I winna tell,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">She to do yon stood little aw’,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">Just like mysell.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">But to get gear was a’ her drift,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And used many a pinging shift:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">About her spinning and her thrift,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">Was a’ her care,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">She’s gotten but little o’t abune the lift,</div> - <div class="verse indent18">Wi’ her ti wear.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p4 smcap center">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_COALMANS_COURTSHIP"><em>THE COALMAN’S COURTSHIP.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The edition reprinted from here is ‘the tenth edition,’ as the title page bears. -The full title is:—‘The Young Coal-Man’s Courtship to a Creel-Wife’s Daughter, -or, a Dialogue between an Old Woman and her Son: wherein she instructs him in -the Real Art of Courtship. Very beneficial for blate Wooers or young Beginners. -The Tenth Edition. Containing all its Three Parts. Glasgow: Printed and sold -by J. & J. Robertson, <span class="allsmcap">MDCCLXXXII</span>.’ It is a 16 pp. 12mo.]</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcc-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE YOUNG COALMAN’S COURTSHIP TO A -CREEL-WIFE’S DAUGHTER.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="noindent">All you that’s curious of Courtship, give attention to this -History of Mary and her son Sawny, a young Coalman, who -lived in the country a few miles from Edinburgh.</p> - -<p>Mary, his mither, was a gay hearty wife, had mair wantonness -nor wealth; was twelve years a married wife, nine years -a widow, and was very chaste in her behaviour, wi’ her ain -tale (for want of charging:) for a’ this time of her widowhood, -there was never a man got a kiss o’ her lips, or laid a foul -hand on her hind quarters.</p> - -<p>Sawny her son was a stout young raw lown, full faced, wi’ -flabby cheeks, duddy breeks, and a ragged doublet, gade always -wi’ his bosom bare, sometimes had ae gartan, a lingle or rash-rape -was good enough for Sawny: his very belly was a’ sun -burnt and brown like a piper’s bag, or the head of an auld -drum; and yet his beard began to sprout out like herring banes: -he took thick brose to his breakfast, and baps and ale through -the day, and when the coals sell’d dear, when the wind was -cauld, bought an oven farl and twa Dunbar weathers,<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> or a -Glasgow magistrate,<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> which fish-wives ca’s a waslen herrin.</p> - -<p>His mither, auld Mary plagued him ay in the morning, got -up when the hens keckled, reinged the ribs, blew her snotter-box, -primed her nose, kindled her tobacco pipe, and at every -puff breathed out fretting against her hard fortune, and lanely -single life. O but a widow be a poor name, but I live in a -wilderness in this lang-lonen; mony a man gaes by my door, -but few looks in to poor auld Mary: Hoch hey, will I never -win out o’ this weery’d life.—Wa’ Sawny man, wa’ Sawny -man; wilt thou na rise the day; the sun’s up, an a’ the nibours<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -round about; Willie and Charlie is to the hill an hour syne, -an’ haf-gate hame again. Wilt thou rise and gi’ the beasts a -bite; thou minds na’ them, I wat man.</p> - -<p>Grump, grump, quo’ Sawny, they got their supper an hour -after I got mine. Shute to dead come on them, an’ they get -a bit frae me till they work for’t.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> But O Mither, I been dreaming that I was married, -an’ i’ the bed aboon the bride, I wonder gin it be true: -Od! I never got sic fun; what wilt be, think ye? How auld -am I mither; do you think I could man a hissy yet? Fegs -am a mind to try, but the sour saucy hissies ’ill no hae me, I -ken well enough.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Hae you lad, ay mony a hungry heart wad be -blyth o’ you; but there was never a sca’d Jocky but there was -a scabbit Jenny till him yet:<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> dinny be fear’d lad.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A hech, mither, I’se no be lordly, an I sud tak a -beggar wife aff the hi’ gate: but I’ll tell you something it’m -ay thinking on, but ye manna tell the nibours, for the chields -wad aye jamf<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> me wi’t.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Wad I tell o’ thee, I wad tell o’ mysel as soon.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Do ye mind, mither, that day I gaed to the Pans<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> -I came in by Auld Mattie’s, your countrymans, the Fife wife, -it came out o’ the town ye came frae, the wife it says, <em>Be-go -laddie</em>, I gaed there, and she wisna in, and her doughter kend -me; she was unco kind, and made me fat, fat brose out o’ the -lee side o’ her kail pat, there was baith beef and paunches in’t: -od they smell’d like ony haggies, an’ shin’d a’ like a gou’d lac’d -waiscoat, figs I suppit till I was like to rive o’ them, and had -a rift o’ them the morn a’ day; when I came out, I had a kite -like a cow wi’ ca’f. She spier’d for you mither, and I said ye -was gaily: and she looked to me, and leuch ay, and grippet -my shakle bane, and said I wad be a sturdy fallow yet.—I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span> -looked ay to her, and thought I liked her, and thinks on’t ay -sin-syne, she leugh, and bad me seek out a coal-driver for her, -for she did na’ like to carry a fish creel.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Forsooth, Sawny, I’ll gie my twa lugs for a -lav’rocks egg if she binna in love wi’ thee, and that will be a -bargain.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> An’ upon my word mither she’s a sturdy gimmer, -well worth the snoaking after; she has a dimple in every cheek, -and ane on her chin, twa legs like twa posts, an haunches like -a sodger’s lady’s hoop, they hobble when she shakes, and her -paps plays nidity nod when she gangs, I ken by her keeking<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> -she has a conceit o’ me.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> But Sawny man, an tou see her mither Matty in -the town, auld <em>Be-go-laddie</em>, as ye ca’ her, gi’ her a dram, she -lik’st well; spout ye a mutchkin o’ molash in her cheek, ye’ll -get her mind an’ speed the better.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> But mither how sud I do when I gang to court -her; will I kiss her and tan kittle her, an’ fling her o’er as the -chiels does the hissies amang the hay. I seen them gang -our ither, and o’er ither; an’ when they grip them by the wame, -they’d cry like a maukin when the dogs is worrying them.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Hut awa’, daft dog it thou is, that’s no the gate, -thou maun gang in wi’ bra’ good manners an’ something manfu’; -put on a Sunday’s face and sigh as ye were a saint; sit -down beside her as ye were a Mess John; keek ay till her now -and then wi’ a sto’en look, and had your mouth as mim, and -grave as a May-puddock, or a whore at a christening; crack -well o’ our wealth, and hide our poverty.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Ay but mither, there’s some other way in courting -nor that, or the lasses would never couple so close to them.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Ay but Sawny man, there is a time for everything -and that too; when ye sit where nae body sees you, you may -tak her head in your oxter, like a creesh pig, dab nebs wi’ her -now an’ than, but be sure ye keep a close mouth when ye kiss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -her; clap her cheeks and straik her paps, but for your drowning -gang nae farther down; but fouk’s that’s married can put -their hand to ony part they like.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Aha, but mither, I didna ken the first word o’ -courting, the lassie ’ill no ken what am com’d about.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Ay will she lad, wink and keek well to her, she’ll -hae a guess; seek a quiet word o’ her at the door; an’ gin it -be dark, gie her a wee bit kiss when ye’ve tell’d her your -errand; an’ gin they gi’e you cheese and bread, or ony meat, ca’t -good, whether it be sae or no; and for my blessing, be mensfu’ -wi’ your mouth, and dinna eat o’er muckle, for I seen you sip as -mony milk brose as wad a sar’t twa men to carry on a barrow.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A but mither, ye’re lying now, or it was na’ a’ at -ance than, but an they set meat before me, and I be hungry, a -de’il claw the clungest<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> an’ I be nae upsides wi’t, for that same. -A faith mither, fouks maun hae meat, an’ they should ne’er -get wives, there’s some o’ them no worth the cursing, an’ a -body were na letting an oath whether or no: a hear ye that -now, when ye pit me till’t, and gar me speak; ay by my sooth, -I wad rather hae a bit good powny<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> an’ a pound o’ cheese, or -I were bound to bab after ony hizzies buttocks I see yet.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Wa Sawny man thou’s a fool an’ that’s a fau’t: -gin every ane were as easy about women as thou is, the warld -wad be a wilderness in a wee time; there wad be nae body to -inhabit the earth but brute beasts, cats and dogs wad be worrying -ither, and every thing gae to confusion. Gae to the courting -ye dog it ye are, and either do something or naething at a’.</p> - - -<p class="p2 center">End of the <span class="smcap">First Part</span>.</p> - - -<div class="blockquotx"> - -<p class="p2"><em>The other two Parts give an account of his behaviour when -in courtship with the bride, the wedding, speuing of the -blankets, &c.</em></p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcc-II"> -<h3><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Up got Sawny in the morning, and swallowed o’er his sodden -meat, slag by slag; and aff he goes to the coals and the -courting, lilting and singing like a lav’rock in a May mornin, -<em>O to be married if this be the way</em>. The colliers wonder’d a’ -to see him sae well busket, wi’ a pair o’ wally side auld -fashioned breeks o’ his father’s,<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> and a lang cravate like a -minister, or Baillie Duff at a burial, a clean face and hands, -and no less than a gun sleev’d linen sark on him, which made -his cheeks to shine like a sherney weight, and the colliers -swore he was as bra’ as a horse gawn to a cow’s dredgy.</p> - -<p>But Sawny came aff wi’ his coals whistling, and whipping -up the poor beast e’en as outragious as ony ram at riding -time; well might ony body see there was a storm in Sawny’s -nose, light where it like; for no sooner had he sell’d his coals -than he left his horse to come hame wi’ a nibour callen, and -gade keeking up the Cow-gate, and thro’ the closes, seeking -auld <em>Be-go</em> his good-mither to be, then in thro’ the fish market -where he bought a lang herrin, an’ twa baps, a pair of suters -auld shoon greesed black and made new, to make his feet -feasible like, as he kend the lass wad look at them, (for his -mither tell’d him the women look’d ay to the men’s legs or -they marry’d them, and the well-legged louns gade ay best aff.)</p> - -<p>So Sawny came swaggering through a’ the shell wives, but -she was nae there, but coming down the town beneath the -guard, meets auld <em>Be-go</em> just in the teeth, and crys, hey laddie -my dow, how’s your mither honest Mary? I thank you co’ -Sawny, she’s meat-heal, and ay working some, how is a’ at -hame, is Kate and the laddie well?</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> Fu’ well my dow, you’re a bra’ soncy dog grown, a -wally fa’ me gin I kend ye.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span></p> - -<p>Come, come, co’ Sawny, and I’ll gie you a nossock to heat -your wame, it’s a cauld day, an’ ye’re my mither’s countryman.</p> - -<p>Na’ fair fa’ you Sawny, I’ll no refus’t, a dram’s better the -day nor a clap on the arse wi’ a cauld shule, sae fallow me -my dow.</p> - -<p>So away she took me, co’ Sawny, down a dark stair to ane -o’ the how houses, beneath the yird, where it was mirk as in a -coal heugh,<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> and they had a great fire, <em>Sweet be wi’ me</em>, co’ -Sawny, <em>for it minds me o’ the ill part</em>, an’ a muckle pot like a -little caldron, seething kail and roasting flesh, the wife forket -them out as fast us she cou’d into cogs and caps, for there -came in a whin sutor-like fallows wi’ black thumbs and -creashy aprons, that cuttied them a’ up in a wee time, but -they ne’er fashed wi’ us nor we with them; we first got a gill -and then a het pint; a vow said I Matty, is nae Kate gawn to -get a man yet?</p> - -<p>A man laddie, a wha wad hae her? a muckle lazy useless -jade, she can do naething but work at husband wark;<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> card -and spin, wash ladies rooms, and scour gentlemen’s bonny -things, she canna tak a creel on her back, and apply to merchandizing -as I do to win a man’s bread.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> I think some o’ the fishers and her may mak -it up.</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> A fisher laddie, hech the fishers has a better look out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -wi’ them, the fishers wad rather hae a pickle good baits to their -hooks, and twa three bladders to their lines, then put up wi’ -the like o’ her, a stinking pridefu’ jade, although I bore her, ay -scraping and washing at hersel, pricking and prining, keeps -her face ay like a Flanders baby, and no less nor ribbons and -rings, and her shone made o’ red clouts; an’ de’il stick pride, -when our auld goodum ran barefoot, and our gutchers gaed -wi’ bare hips. Gie her a man, ill thief stap a gouk in her arse -first, that it may cry cuckow whenever she speaks o’t; she can -do naething but scour ladies piss pots, and keep clean the -tirlie whirlies that hangs about the fire, heth she’s o’er gently -brought up to be a poor man’s penny worth.</p> - -<p>Hegh how co’ Sawny, an’ its e’en a great pity, for she’s a -weel far’d lusty hissy, I had a great kindness for her.</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> A-well-a-wat she’s no lingle tail’d, she may be a -caff-bed to a good fallow; but an thou had seen me at her -age, I was a sturdy gimmer: there was na ane about a’ the -Hyne or Dubby-side, cou’d lay a curpen to a creel wi’ me; -the fient a fallow in a’ Fife, but I wad a laid him on the braid -o’ his back, an’ a’ his gear upmost, I was a chiken to chatter -wi’ indeed laddie, I had a pair o’ cheeks like a chapman’s arse, -and a flank like an ox; sae had I een.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Nae doubt co’ <ins class="corr" id="tn-55" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'Sawney but ye'"> -Sawny but ye</ins> had a pair o’ beefy -buttocks, for your very cheeks hings like leather bags to this -very day; but I’ll tell you what am gaun to tell you, do you -think that your Kate wad tak me, an I wad come to court her.</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> Tak you laddie, tak you, a faith she’ll tak you, for -she wou’d a tane a poor button thing of a half blind taylor, -wartna me, a poor, bleir’d scabbit like creature it was, I seen the -day I wou’d ha carried it in my pouch: wode I’se warrent her -jump at you like a fish at a flee, wode I say tak you, an’ she -winna tak you I’se tak you mysel; but she and I cust out the -day, about her cockups and blackcaps, gard me say sae -meickle o’ her, but she’s my sonsy dawty for a’ that, weel a -wat she’s a weel natured lassie an’ she turn an ill-natured wife -I canna tell.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A we’ll then I’ll venture on her as she is, for my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -mither’s pleased, and ye’re pleas’d, an’ am pleas’d, an’ in she -be pleas’d wode I am sure to get her, an’ the taylor has nae -bridled her, or tane a trying trotty o’ her.</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> But Sawny man, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, I’ll hame -and broach her the night on’t, an’ come ye the morn, we’ll -make it fude fast in a wee time, so thou’s get mair tocher than -a cramon, <em>gamon to gamon</em>, she has baith blankets and sheets, -a covering and twa cods, a caff-bed and bowster, and hear’st -thou me laddie, I have a bit auld hogger<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> an’ some thing in’t, -thou’s get it when I die; but by my suth it will be the last -thing that I will part wi’, I kenna what I may need yet, its an -auld wife kens her wierd.</p> - -<p>On this they paid their spout<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> and parted; but when -Sawny came out he stoited and stagger’d like a sturdy stot, -molash was chief commander, for he thought every body had -two heads and four een and more noses than they needed; -being sometime in the dark house, thought it was the morning -of a new day, a hech said he, when was I a night frae -my mither before, she’ll think I am put in the guard, tane wi’ -the deel, or the doctors, or anse married, and wirking at the -wanton wark o’ wean’s making.</p> - -<p><em>Mat.</em> Hute daft laddie, the soup drink’s in your head, this -day and yesterday is a’ ae day, ye’ll be hame in bra’ time yet.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A well a well then good day to you good-mither, -ye maun gar Kate tak me or thief tak you a’ the gither, I’ll -hame and tell the length its come, an’ it come nae farther it -maun e’en stick there.—Off he goes tacking about like a ship -against the wind, as if he would knock holes in the wa’s and -windows wi’ his elbows, he looked as fierce as a lion; wi’ a red<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -face like a trumpeter, and his nose was like a bublie-cocks neb, -as blue as a blawirt; but or he wan half way, his head turned -heavier nor his heels, and many a filthy fa’ he got, through thick -and thin he plash’d, till hame he gets at last, grunting and graping -by the wa’s, that auld Mary his mither thought it was their -neighbour’s sow, he was so bedaubed wi’ dirt, gets him to bed, -he was in a boiling barrel fever, and poor Mary grat wi’ grief.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Hech hey co’ Sawny, but courting be a curst wark, -and costly, an’ marriage be as mortifying and murdering, the -devil may be married for me.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Wa, Sawny man what’s come o’er thee now, thou’s -gotten skaith, some auld wife has witcht thee,<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> or the deel -has dung thee o’er in some dirty midden, my bairn’s elf-shot; -whar has thou been, or what hast thou seen, thy een reels like -a wild cat, and the sweat is hailing o’er thy nose, thou’s -witcht, O man what will I do!</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Bock, bock co’ Sawny, but it couldna win up wi’ -bubbles and herrin banes, o’ co’ Sawny put me in my bed, for -my days will soon be done, a curse on your courting wark, for -its kill’d me, and wives is but wicked things I ken by the same.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> O dole! dole my bairn has gotten poison, for the -smell o’t is like poison to me.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Gin herrin and het ale be poison, there’ll no be -mony left alive: Bock co’ Sawny, the bed’s filld.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> My bairn thou was ay a cleanly bairn till now, -thou’s surely lost thy senses when thou files where thou lies as -the brute beasts does, thou never did the like o’ this before -since thou left cakying o’ the cradle.</p> - -<p class="p2 center">N.B.—<em>The third Part gives a further account of the Courtship -and Marriage, &c.</em></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcc-III"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part III.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Poor Sawny had a terrible night o’t, wi’ a sair head, and a -sick heart, his een stood in his head, his wame caddled like -onny mill trows,<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> and a’ his puddings crocket like a wheen -paddocks in a pool; his mither rocket and wrang her hands, -crying a wae be to the wife that brew’d it! for I hae lost a -well foster’d bairn, wi’ their stinking stuff, a meikle deel ding -the doup out o’ their ca’dron, my curse come on them and -their whisky pots, its burnt him alive, ay, ay, my bairn he’s -gone.</p> - -<p>But about the break of day, his wind brake like the bursting -of a bladder; O happy deliverance! cried Mary his mither, -tho’ dirt bodes luck,<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> and foul farts files the blankets, I wish -ne’er war be amang us. The next thing that did Sawny good -was, three mutchkins o’ milk made in thin brose, and a fine -pickle pepper in them, yet he had a soughing in his lugs like -a saw-mill, and every thing ran round about wi’ him a’ that -day. Yet his mother got him out o’ the bed, on o’ the meikle -chair, a pair o’ blankets about his shoulders, a cod at his back, -and a hot brick to his soles, to gar him true he was nae well; -and there he sat like a lying-in wife, cracking like a Hollander, -and ate twa dead herrin and a cufe,<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> telling a’ the outs and ins -about his bridal, and whan it was to be; for he had gotten -every body’s consent but the bride’s about it.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> But Sawny man that’s the main thing, ye maun -hae that too.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Na, na, mither am the only thing myself, she’s but -a member, the men maun ay be foremost, gang what way it -will, I’se ay be the uppermost.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> But Sawny man, what way is thou gaun to do? -will ye mak a pay penny wedding?<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> or twa three gude neighbours, -a peck o’ meal baken, wi’ a cheese, and a barrel o’ ale, -will that do?</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Na, na, mither, I’ll take a cheaper gate nor ony o’ -them; I’ll gar haf-a-crown and haf-a-mutchkin or a rake o’ -coals do it a’, then a body has nae mair a-do but piss and -then go to bed syne.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Na, na, my man Sawny, I have mony, mony a -time, heard thy honest father say, that never a ane wad do well -that cap-strided the kirk, or cuckol’d the minister.<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A tell na me mither, o’ the ministers; they’re ay -for their ain hands as well as other fouks, an’ if a poor beggar -body had a bit wean to chrisen, the deil a doit they feike -him o’t.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Hute awa man, there’s nae body has weans, but -what has siller to pay the chrissening o’ them; or if they be -that poor they sude na get nae weans, and they wad na be -fash’d syne.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Ha, ha, mither the poor foukes like the lice; ay -when they meet they marry and maks mae o’ them: And I -think the ministers might chrisen their bits a weans for nae<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -thing, the water is no sae scant; <ins class="corr" id="tn-60" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'the're well paid'"> -they’re well paid</ins> for their -preaching, they may very well both marry and chrisen a’ the -poor foukes into the bargain, by the way of a maggs.<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Ay, ay, my man Sawny, marriage is a sweet thing -for young fouke an’ the bed undefil’d.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> What the vengeance mither, do ye think that a -body is to file the bed every night, an’ they do’t ance.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> Na, na, that’s no what I mean, its happiness -that fouk has that’s married, besides the wearied lonesome life -it I hae, lying tumbling and gaunting in a bed my lane; O -sirs! but a man in a bed be a usefu’ body, an’ it were but to claw -ane’s back, as for a body’s foreside they can claw it themsel.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A’ mither, mither, ye hae fun a string again, I -think ye might a wanted a’ your days when ye fasted sae -lang; ye hae plenty o’ baith milk and meal, snuff and tobacco, -but ye smell at the crack o’ the whip, I kend my mither wad -ride yet; for I seen her fit wagging this lang time.</p> - -<p><em>Mither.</em> A dear Sawny man, an thou were ance fairly aff -the fodder, I’ll be casten into a hole of a house by mysel, -where I’ll just ly and break my heart, and weary mysel to -dead, but an I cou’d get a bit honest weaver, a cobler, or -some auld taylor by the tail, I wad tickle to him yet, let the -country clash as they please about it.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A well, a well, then mither, take then your ain flight; -there’s nae fool to an auld fool; for the morn I’se be aff or -on wi’ the hissy I hae on hand.</p> - -<p>So on the morning Sawny got a’ his clase clean, his hair -cam’d and greas’d wi’ butter, and his face as clean as the cat -had licket it; and away he goes singing.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>I will buy a pound of woo’,</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>I will wash’d and make a plaidy:</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>I’m gaun o’er the moor till woo,</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Carline, is your daughter ready?</em><a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<p>Now poor Sawny altho’ he sang, was as pale as a ghost -from the grave, his face was whitly white, like a well bleatch’d -dish-clout, he looked just as he had been eaten and spued -again; but at length he came to the bride’s door, and in he -goes wi’ a brattle, crying how is a’ here the day? an’ what’s -com’d o’ thy mither lassie? O Saunders said the bride she’s -awa’ to the town, what came o’ you yesterday, she waited on -you the whole day; ye gart her lose a day’s trade lad, and -she is away this morning cursing like a heathen, an’ swearing -<em>be-go</em> that ye hae geen her a begunk.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> A dole woman, I took a sudden blast o’ the hame -gawn, an’ was never so near dead in my life.</p> - -<p>An’ wha think you was in company wi’ Kate the bride, but -the wee button of a taylor, who sat and sewed on a table, -cocking like a t—d on a trencher, but when he kend wha was -com’d he leaped down on the floor, custe a dash o’ pride like -a little bit prince, he bobet about, and so out he goes with the -tear in his eye, and his tail between his feet like a haff worried -colly-dog.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Now Katty do ye ken what I’m com’d about?</p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> O yes my mither tell’d me, but I’m no ready yet, I -have twa gowns to spin, and things to mak.<a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Hute, things to mak, ye have as mony things as -ye’ll need woman, canna ye spin gowns in your ain house wi’ -me, as right as here wi’ an auld girning mither?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span></p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> But dear Saunders, ye must give a body time to -think on’t, ’twad be ill far’d to rush together just at the first.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> And do ye think I have naething a-do, but come -here every other day hoiting after you? it’ll no do, I maun be -either aff wi’ you or on wi’ you, either tell me or tak me, for I -ken of other twa, and some o’ you I will hae, for as I’m a sinner -my mither is gawn to be married too, an’ she can get a -bit man of ony shape or trade.</p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> Indeed then Saunders, since you’re in such a haste, -you must e’en tak them that’s readiest, for am no ready yet.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Dear woman whan your mither an’ my mither’s -pleas’d, am willing to venture on ye, what a sorrow ails you?</p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> Na, na I’ll think on’t twa or three days; it’s o’er -lang a term to see without a thought.</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Wode I think ye’re a cumstrarie piece o’ stuff, it’s -true enough your mither said o’ ye, that ye’re no for a poor -man.</p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> And what mair said she o’ me?</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> Wode she said you could do naething but scure -wash mugs, an’ gentlemen’s bonny things, but hissies it is bred -amang gentle houses, minds me o’ my mither’s cat, but ye’r -far costlier to keep, for the cat wastes neither saep nor water, -but spits in her lufe and washes ay at her face, and whins o’ -you can do nae ither thing, and up he gets.</p> - -<p><em>Kate.</em> O Saunders but ye be short, will ye no stay till my -mither come hame?</p> - -<p><em>Sawny.</em> I stay’d long enough for any thing I’ll be the -better; and am no sae short as your totum of a taylor it I -cou’d stap it my shoe, sae cou’d I e’en.</p> - -<p>Hame he goes in a passion, and to his bed he ran crying, -O death, death! I thought the jade wad jumpet at me; no -comfort nor happiness mair for poor me. O mither gar make -my burial bread, for I’ll die this night or soon the morn.<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> -But early next morning in comes auld <em>Be-go</em> his good mither,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -who had left her daughter in tears for the slighting o’ Sawny; -and haules him and his mither away to get a dinner of dead -fish, where a’ was agreed upon, the wedding to be upon -Wednesday; no bridal fouks but the twa mithers and themselves -twa.</p> - -<p>So according to appointment they met at Edinburgh, where -Sawny got the cheap priest,<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> who gave them twa three words, -and twa three lines, took their penny and a good drink, wish’d -them joy and gaed his wa’s. Now said auld <em>Be-go</em>, if that be -your minister, he’s but a drunken b—h, mony a’ ane drinks up -a’, but he leaves naething, he’s got that penny for deil haet, -ye might cracket lufes on’t<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> and been as well, if no better; I -have seen some honest men say mair o’er their brose<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> nor -what he said a’ the gither, but an ye be pleas’d am pleas’d, a -bout in the bed ends a’, and makes firm wark: so here’s to -you, and joy to the bargain, its ended now well I wat.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="COMICAL_TRANSACTIONS_OF"><em>COMICAL TRANSACTIONS OF -LOTHIAN TOM.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[This is another unique specimen of the early chap-book from the library of -George Gray, Esq. The original is in three numbers of eight pages each, breaks -being made in the narrative without respect to any thing but the filling of requisite -space. The first number bears the title:—‘The History and Comical Transactions -of Lothian Tom. In Six Parts. Wherein is contained a Collection of -Roguish Exploits done by him, both in Scotland and England,’ while the other -two are but modifications of it. There is this addition on the third number:—‘Which -contains a dialogue betwixt Tom and Pady about their questions, and -Tom’s song.’ They were all printed in Niddery’s Wynd, Edinburgh: the first in -1775, the second in 1777; while the third is without date. Since the Introduction -to these volumes was written we have seen an edition of this chap-book published by -Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh, without date. It is a 24 pp. 12mo., and contains all -the material to be found in the edition from which the following pages are printed, -including Tom’s Song. In this edition, however, ‘Pady’s New Catechism’ is -made part VI., while part II. as in the 1775 edition, with additions and alterations, -is incorporated into part I. The ‘Catechism,’ as already explained, does not seem -to belong to this chap-book, but to ‘Pady from Cork.’]</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE LIFE AND COMICAL TRANSACTIONS OF -LOTHIAN TOM.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<p class="noindent">This Thomas Black, vulgary called Lothian Tom, because of -that country, was born four miles from Edinburgh, his Father -being a very wealthy farmer, who gave him good education, -which he was very awkward in receiving, being a very wild -cross mischievous boy.</p> - -<p>When he was about 10 years of age, he was almost killed -by the stroke of a horse’s foot, which his father had; who had -a trick of kicking at every person that came in behind him. -But when Tom was got heal of the dreadful wound, whereof -many thought he would have died. To be even with the -horse, he gets a clog, or piece of tree which was full of wooden -pins; a thing which the shoe makers used to tann their -leather upon; and with a rope he tied it to the cupple balk in -the stable, directly opposite to the horse’s tail, gets up on the -balk and gives it a swing back so that the pikes in the end of -it, came with a full drive against the horse’s arse; which made -him to fling and the more he flung and struck at it, it -rebounded back again and struck him; the battle lasted with -great fury for a long time, which was good diversion for Tom, -until his father hearing some disturbance in the stable, came -in to know the matter, and was surprized when he saw the -poor horse tanning his own hide, with his legs all cut and -bloody, with kicking against the pikes of the tanners stool; -so he cut the rope and the battle was ended, but the poor -horse would never kick at any thing that came behind him -afterwards, but always run from it.</p> - -<p>It happened one day that Tom went a fishing and brought -home a few small fish, which his grandmother’s cat snapt up -in the dark; so Tom to have justice of the cat for so doing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -catches her, and puts her into a little tub cogbome,<a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> then sets -her a drift into a mill-dam, ordering her to go a fishing for -herself; then sets two or three dogs upon her, where a most -terriable seafight ensued as ever was seen in fresh watter: for -if any of the dogs assayed to board her, by setting in over -their nose, badrons came flying to that quarter, to repulse him -with her claws; then her vessel was like to overset by the -weight of herself, so she had to flee to the other, and finding -the same there, from thence to the middle, where she sat mawing, -always turning herself about, coming her nose with her -foot. The old woman being informed of the dangerous situation -of her dearly beloved cat, came running with a long pole -to beat off the dogs and haul her ashore: What now, says -Tom, if you be going to take part with my enemies, you shall -have part of their reward: then gives the old woman such a -push that she tumbled into the dam over head and ears, beside -her beloved cat, and would undoubtedly perished in the water, -had not one of the people who were there looking at the diversion, -com’d to her relief.</p> - -<p>After this Tom was sent to the school to keep his hands -out of an ill turn; and having an old canker’d crab witted -fellow for his dominie, they were always at variance, for if -Tom had got his whips, which he often deserved, he was sure -to be revenged upon his master again for it. So Tom perceiving -<ins class="corr" id="tn-68" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'his mastre had'"> -his master had</ins> a close-stool in a little closet within the -school, where he went and eased himself when need was: -Tom gets a penny-worth of gun powdar, and strinkled it on -the ground directly before the seat, and lays a little of it along -in a train to the fire side, then perceiving when his master -went into it, and as he was loosing down his breeches, sets -fire to the train which blew it all up about his master’s bare -hips, which scorched him most terriably, besides the fright; for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -which Tom was severely whipt; yet in a little after he began -to study revenge on his master.</p> - -<p>So it happened one day as Tom went into the master’s -house, the wife was stooping into a big meal barrel<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> to bring -out some meal; there he takes her by the feet and cowps her -up into the barrel with her head down, and her bare backside -upper-most; then runs into the school, crying, “O! master, -master! the deel’s looking out of your meal stand wi’ a fat -face, and a black ill far’d mouth: yon’s just auld nick and he -be living.” At this the master run with all speed he could to -see what it was, and found it to be his own wife speechless -and almost smothered to death; but as she could not tell who -did it, Tom got clear off; yet he was not satisfied without -some more vengeance on the old fellow; and knowing his -master had a fashion when he was going to whip the boys, -if they would not loose their breeches willingly, he drew his -knife and cut them thro’ the waistband behind: so Tom goes -to a butcher and gets a raw pudding, and fills it with blood -and watter and puts it in within the waistband of his breeches: -then goes to school next day, and as the master was sitting -with his back towards the fire, Tom lights a piece of paper -and sets his wig in a low, which burnt for some time unperceived, -until the flames came fizing about his ears: he first -put out the wig by trampling it upon the ground with his feet, -and being informed that Tom did it, flies to him in a rage, -ordering him to loose his breeches, but Tom told him he was -never so mad: then he drew his knife and whips poor Tom -over his knee, and with great kicking and struggling cuts the -waistband of his breeches through pudding and all, so that -the blood gushed out; and Tom cried murder, murder, and -down he fell. The poor dominie went out of the door crying -and wringing his hands. Word flew about that Tom was -sticket by the dominie, which made the people come running -from several parts of the country round about to see how it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -was; but searching him for the wound, found none but the -empty pudding, which discovered the fraud.<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> Then two men -had to get horses and ride after the poor dominie, who had by -this time got two or three miles away; and when he saw them -coming after him, crying to stand, and come back again, he -ran the faster, untill he could run no more, but fell over on -the road, praying him to let him go, for if he was taken back -he was sure of being hanged: and would not be persuaded that -Tom was alive, until they forced him back and he saw him: -but he would be Tom’s teacher no longer; so Tom’s father -had to seek another master for him.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-II"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part II.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There was a young woman servant to Tom’s father, which -Tom had offended by some of his tricks, and she to be up -with him again; one night spread a handfull of short nettles -in his bed, between his sheets; which stinged his legs and -thighs so much, that he was obliged to quit his bed, for some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span> -part of the night; for which he resolved to be revenged when -ever a proper opportunity offered. It happened in a few days -after that she was invited to a wedding where the dancing and -diversion induced her to stay all night; and on coming home -in the morning, her mistress set her to wash some cloaths. -But she being fatigued with her night’s diversion, and for -want of rest fell fast asleep with her hand extended in the -tub, and standing on her feet with her belly leaning on the -tub, Tom perceiving this, slips her petticoats and smock over -her head, letting the sun shine on her bare back side, which -faced the highway. Several people passing by while she continued -in this posture, some of them were diverted, and others -ashamed at the sight. But a poor cadger had the misfortune -to be coming on the road at the time, and his horse taking -fright at this unusual sight, threw off the creels which broke -the poor man’s eggs all to smash. Which so enraged him, -that he lashed her buttocks with his whip in so unmerciful a -manner, that with the smart and shame together, she had -not the least inclination to sleep for the remaining part of -the day.<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p> - -<p>Tom being grown up to the years and age of a man, thought -himself more wiser and slyer than his father; and there was -several things about the house he liked better than to work: -so he turned to be a dealer amongst the brutes, a couper of -horses and cows, &c. and even wet ware amongst brewers and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -brandy shops; until he couped himself to the toom halter; -and then his parents would supply him no more. He knew -well his grandmother had plenty of mony, but she would give -him none; but the old woman had a good black calf her own, -which Tom went to the fields one evening and catches and -takes her into an old waste house which stood at a distance -from any other, and there he kept her two or three days, -giving her meat and drink when it was dark at night, and -made the old woman believe some body had stole the cow for -their winter mairt:<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> which was grief enough to the old -woman, for the loss of her dearly beloved cow. However, -she employs Tom to go to a fair that was near by, to buy her -another, gives him 3 lr<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> which Tom accept of very thankfulli -and promised to buy one as like the other as possibly he could -get; then he gets a piece of chalk and brays it small as meal, -and steeps it in a little water, and therewith rubs over the -cow’s face and back which made her both brocket and rigget: -So Tom in the morning takes the cow to a public house within -a little of the fair, and there left her till the fair was over, and -then drives her home before him; and as soon as they came -home the cow began to rout as she used to do, which made the -old woman so rejoice, thinking it was her own black cow; but -when she saw her white face, sighed and said, “Alas! thou’ll -never be like the kindly brute my black lady, and yet routs as -like her as ony I ever did hear;” but Tom says to himself, the -mercy is you know not what she says, or all would be wrong -yet. So in two or three days the old woman put forth her bra’ -rigget cow in the morning with the rest of the neighbours -cattle, but it came on a sore day of heavy rain, which washed -away all the white from her face and back: so the old woman’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -black lady came home at night, and her rigget cow went away -with the shower and was never heard of. But Tom’s father -having some suspicion, and looking narrowly into the cows -face, found some of the chalk not washed away; and then he -gave poor Tom a hearty beating, and sent him away to seek -his fortune with a skin full of sore bones.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-III"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part III.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Tom being turned to his own shifts, considers with himself -how to raise a little more money, gets a long string as near as -he could guess to be the length of his mother; and into Edinburgh -he goes, to a wright who was acquainted with his father -and mother; the wright asking him how he did? he answered -him very soberly, for he had lost a good dutiful mother; last -night, and there’s a measure of her coffin. The wright was -surprised at the news, and lamented his loss and so fell to -work on the coffin. Tom went out and stayed for some time, -and then comes in again, and tells the wright he did not know -what to do, for his father had ordered him to get money from -such a man, which he named, and that he was that day gone -out of town; the wright asked him how much he wanted? to -which he answered, a guinea and a half might do, or thirty -shillings at the least; so he gave him the guinea and the half: -then Tom gave him strict charge to be out on the morrow -against eleven o’clock with the coffin, and he should have his -money altogether; Tom set out for the alehouse with the -money, and lived while it lasted. Next morning the wright -and his two lads goes out with the coffin; and as they were -going in the house, Tom’s mother stands at the door, asking -the master how he did, and where he was going with that fine -coffin? he did not know well what to say, being so surprized -to see her alive! but at last he told her it was made designedly -for her, and that her son brought in the measure the day -before, and had got a guinea and a half from him, which he -said was to buy some other necessaries for the funeral. O the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -rogue! said she has he played me that? So the wright got -his guinea and half and so much for his trouble, and had to -take back his coffin with him again.</p> - -<p>Tom being now short of money again began to think how -he would raise a fresh supply; so he went to the port amongst -the shearers, and there hires about thirty of them, and agrees -to give them a whole week’s shearing at tenpence a day, which -was twopence higher than any had got that year; this made -the poor shearers think he was an honest generous genteel -master as ever they got, so he took them all into an alehouse, -and gave them a hearty breakfast, till they could eat no more. -Now says he, when there are so many of you together perhaps -from different parts, and unacquainted with one another, I do -not know but there may be some of you honest men and some -of you rogues: and you are to lie all in one barn together, -any of you who has any mony, you’ll be safest to give it to -me, and I’ll mark it down in my book, with your names and -what I receive from each of you and you shall have it all -again on Saturday’s night when you get your wages. O! -very well good man, take mine take mine, every one -cried faster than another; some gave him five, six, seven -and eight shillings, even all they had earned through the -harvest, which amounted to near seven pounds sterling. -Having got all their money, he goes on with them -till about three miles out of the town, and coming to<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> -a great field of standing corn, though some thing green, -yet convenient for this purpose, as it lay some distance from -any house or person; so he made them begin there, telling -them he was going to order dinner for them, and send is own -servants to join them: Away he goes with all the speed he -could, but takes another road into the town, lest they should -follow and catch him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span></p> - -<p>Now when the people to whom the corn belonged, saw such -a band in their field, they could not understand the meaning -of it; but the goodman whose corn it was, went off crying -always as he run, to them to stop; but they would not, until -he began to strike them, and they at him, he being in a great -passion, as the corn was not fully ripe; at last, by force of -argument and other peoples coming up to them, the poor -shearers were convinced they had gotten the bite, which -caused them to go away lamenting their misfortune.</p> - -<p>In two or three days thereafter as Tom was going down the -Canongate, he meets one of his shearers, who knew him and -kept fast by him demanding his money and satisfaction for all -the rest: whisht, whisht, says Tom, and you’ll get yours and -something else beside. So Tom takes him into the jail,<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> and -calls for a bottle of ale and a dram, then takes the jaylor aside, -as if he had been to borrow the money from him: and says -to the jaylor, this man here is a great thief, I and two -others, have been in search of him these three days, and the -other two men have the warrant with them, so if you’ll keep -the rogue here till I run and bring them, you shall have a guinea -in reward: yes, said the jaylor, go and I’ll fix the rogue for -you. Tom gets clear out, leaving the poor innocent fellow and -the jaylor straggling together, and then sets off for England -directly.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span></p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-IV"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part IV.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Tom having now left his own native country, went into the -county of Northumberland, where he hired himself with an old -miser of a farmer; and here he continued several years, performing -the duty in his service very well, though sometimes -playing a roguish trick to those about him: his master had a -very naughty custom that he would allow them no candle at -night to see with when at supper; Tom one night sets himself -next to his master, and as they were all about to fall on, Tom -puts his spoon into the midst of the dish where the crowdie -was the hottest, and claps a spoonful into his masters mouth: -a pox upon you for a rogue, cried his master, for my mouth is -all burnt; a pox upon you for a master, says Tom, for you -keep a house as dark as Purgatory, for I was going to my -own mouth with that sup and mist the way it being so dark: -don’t think master that I am such a big fool as to feed you, -while I have a mouth of my own. So from that night that Tom -burnt his master’s mouth with the hot crowdie, they always -got a candle to shew them light at supper, for his master -would feed no more in the dark while Tom was present.</p> - -<p>There was a servant girl in the house, who always when she -made the beds neglected to make Tom’s, and would have him -to do it himself, well then, says Tom, I have harder work to do, -and I shall do that too, so next day when Tom was in the field -at the plough, when he saw his master coming from the house -towards him, he then left the horses and the plough standing -in the field, and goes away towards his master, who cried, -What is wrong, or is any thing broke with you? No, no, says -Tom, but I am going home to make my bed, it has not been -made these two weeks, and just now is about the time, the -maid makes all the rest, so I’ll go home and make mine too. -No, no sirrah, go back to your plough, and I’ll cause it to be -made every night to you. Then, says Tom, I’ll plough two or -three furrows more in the time.<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>There was a butcher came to his master’s and bought a -fine fat calf, so Tom laid it on the horses neck before the -butcher, and when he was gone, now, says Tom, what will you -hold master, but I’ll steal that calf from the butcher before he -goes two miles off? Why, says his master, I’ll hold a guinea -you don’t; done, says Tom; in he goes, and gets a good shoe -of his master’s, and runs off another way cross the fields until -he got before the butcher: near to the corner of a hedge, -where there was an open and turning of the way, here Tom -darns himself behind the hedge, and throws the shoe in the -middle of the highway, then up comes the butcher riding and -his calf before him; hey, said he to himself, there’s a good -shoe, if I knew how to get on my calf again I would alight for -it but what signifies one without its neighbour? so off he goes -and lets it lye. Tom then slips out and takes the shoe up -again, and runs across the fields until he got in before the -butcher at another part of the hedge, about half a mile distant, -and there he throws the shoe out again in the midst of the -way; then up comes the butcher, and seeing it, says to himself, -now I shall have a pair of good shoes for the lifting: and -down he comes, lays the calf on the ground, and tying his -horse to the hedge, runs back, thinking to get the other shoe; -in which time, Tom whips up the calf and shoe, and home he -comes, demanding his wager, which his master could not deny, -being so fairly won.</p> - -<p>The poor butcher returned to his horse, got only his travel -for his pains, so missing his calf, he knew not what to say or -do, but thinking it had broke the rope from about it’s feet, and -had run into the fields, the butcher spent that day in search of -it amongst the hedges and ditches, and so returned to Tom’s -master’s all night, intending to go and search farther for it -next day, giving them a tedious relation how he came to lose -it by a curs’d pair o’ shoes which he believed the devil had -dropt in his way, and now he had taken the calf and all along -with him, expressing his thankfulness that the devil was so -honest as to spare his old horse when he stole away his calf. -Next morning Tom went to work and makes a fine white face<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -on the calf with chalk and water then brings it out and -sold it to the butcher, which was good diversion to his master -and other servants to see the butcher buy his own calf again: -no sooner was he gone with it, but Tom says, now master -what will you hold but I’ll steal it from him again, or he goes -two miles off? No, no, says his master, I’ll hold no more -beats with you, but I’ll give you a shilling if you do it, done -says Tom, it shall cost you no more; and away he runs a foot -through the fields, until he came in before the butcher, hard -by the place where he stole the calf from him the day before; -and here he lyes behind the hedge, and as the butcher came -past, he puts his hand on his mouth, and cries, Baw, baw, like -a calf; the butcher hearing this, swears to himself, that there -was the calf he had lost the day before, down he comes and -throws the calf he had on the ground, gets in through the -hedge in all haste, thinking he had no more to do but take it -up; but as he came in at the one part of the hedge, Tom -jumps out at another, and gets the calf on his back, then gets -in over the hedge on the other side, and through the fields he -came safely home, with the calf on his back; while the poor -butcher spent his time and labour in vain, running from hedge -to hedge, and hole to hole, seeking what was not there to be -found. So the butcher returned to his horse again, and finding -his other calf gone, he concluded it to be done by some -invisible spirit thereabout that spot of ground; and so went -home and raised a bad report on the devil, saying he was -turned a highwayman and had taken two calfs from him. So -Tom washing the white face off the stolen calf, his master sent -the butcher word to come and buy another calf, which he -accordingly did a few days after, and Tom sold him the same -calf a third time; then told him the whole affair as it was -acted, giving him his money again so the butcher got but fun -for all his fuddle.<a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a></p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span></p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-V"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part V.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">There was an old rich blind woman, who lived hard bye, that -had a young girl her only daughter, and she fell deep in love -with Tom, and Tom fell as deep in love with the money, but not -with the maid: the old woman bestowed a vast of presents on -Tom, and mounted him like a gentleman, but still he put off -the marriage from time to time, and always wanted something, -which the old woman gave the money to purchase for him, -until he had got about thirty pounds of her money and then -she would delay the marriage no longer: Tom went and took -the old woman and girl aside, and made his apology as follows—Dear -mother,<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> said he I am very willing to wed with my -dear Polly, for she appears as an angel in mine eyes, but I am -sorry very sorry to acquaint you that I am not a fit match for -her: what child, says the old woman, there’s not a fitter match -in the world for my Polly, I did not think your country could -afford such a clever youth as what I hear of you to be,<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> you -shall neither want gold nor silver, and a good horse to ride -upon and when I die you shall have my all: O but says Tom, -mother that’s no the matter at all, the stop is this, when I was -at home in Scotland, I got a stroke with a horse’s foot on the -bottom of my belly, which has quite disabled me below that I -cannot perform I husband’s duty in bed. Then the old woman -clapt her hands, and fell a crying, O! if it had been any impediment -but that, but that, but that, woful that! which gold -and silver cannot purchase and yet the poorest people that is -even common beggars have plenty off it. The old woman and -her daughter sat crying and wringing their hands, and Tom -stood and wept lest he should get no more money, O says -Polly, mother I’ll wed with him nevertheless, I love him so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -dearly? No, no, you foolish girl would you throw yourself -away to marry a man and die a maid, you don’t know the end -of your creation, it is the enjoyment of a man in bed that -makes women to marry, which is a pleasure like a paradise, -and if you wed with this man, you’ll live and die and never -know it. Hoo, hoo, says Tom, If I had got money, I needed -not been this way till now; money, you fool, said the old -woman, there’s not such a thing to be got for money in all -England: ay, says Tom, there’s a doctor in Newcastle, will -make me able as any other man for ten guineas: ten guineas, -said she, I’ll give him fifty guineas if he will, but here is twelve -and go to him directly, and know first what he can do, and -come again and wed my child, or she and I both will die for -thy sake. Tom having now got twelve guineas more of their -money, got all things ready, and next morning early, sets out -for Newcastle, but instead of going to Newcastle, he came to -old Scotland, and left Polly and her mother to think upon him, -then in about two weeks after, when he was not like to return, -no nor so much as a word from him: the old woman and Polly -got a horse, and came to Newcastle in search of him, went -through all the doctors shops asking if there came a young -man there about two weeks ago with a broken cock to mend: -some laught at her, others were like to kick her out of doors, -so the old woman had to return without getting any further -intelligence of Tom.</p> - -<p>Now after Tom’s return to Scotland, he got a wife and took -a little farm near Dalkeith, and became a very douse man for -many days, followed his old business the couping of horses -and cows the feeding of veals for slaughter, and the like: He -went one day to a fair and bought a fine cow from an old -woman, but Tom judged from the lowness of the price that -the cow certainly had some fault; Tom gives the wife the -other hearty bicker of good ale, then says, he, wife the money’s -your’s and the cow’s mine, ye must tell me ony wi’ bit of faults -it she has: Indeed quoth she goodman, she has nae a fault -but ane, and in she had wanted it, I wad never a parted wi’ -her; and what’s that goodwife said he? Indeed said she the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -filthy daft beast sucks ay hersel; hute, says Tom, if that be -all, I’ll soon cure her of that, O can ye do’t said she, If I had -kend what wad a done it, ye had nae gotten her. A well says -Tom I’ll tell you what to do, tak the cow’s price I gave you -just now, and tye it hard and fast in your napkin, and give it -to me throw beneath the cow’s wame, and I’ll give you the -napkin again over the cow’s back, and I’ll lay my life for it -that she’ll never suck hersel in my aught; a wat well, said she, -I’se do that an they sud be witchcraft in’t,<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a> so Tom no sooner -got it throw below the cow’s wame than he looses out his -money and puts it in his pocket, and gave the wife again her -napkin over the cow’s back accordingly as he told her, saying, -now wife, you have your cow and I my money, and she’ll -never suck herself in my aught, as I told you, O dole, cryed -the wife, is that your cure, ye have cheated me, ye have -cheated me.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-VI"> -<h3><span class="smcap">Part VI.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Tom being very scant of money at a time when his rent was -to pay, and though he was well acquainted with the Butchers -in Edinburgh, he tried severals of them, yet none of them would -lend him as much, he was known to be such a noted sharper.<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> -Tom thinks with himself that he’ll give them all a bite in -general who had refused him: So in he comes next day -(and all of them had heard of a fine fat calf he had feeding) -comes to one of the butchers, and tell’s him he was going to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span> -sell the fat calf he had at home. Well says the butcher, and -what will you have for it? just five and thirty shillings, says -Tom: No, says the butcher, by what I hear of it I’ll give -thirty. Na, na, says Tom, you must remember that is not the -price of it, but give me twenty shillings just now, and send -out your lad the morrow and we’ll perhaps agree about it. -Thus Tom went thro’ ten of them in one day, and got twenty -shillings from each of them, and kept his speech against the -law for whatever they offered him for his calf, he told them -to remember that was not to be the price of it, but give me -twenty shillings just now, and send out your lad on the morrow -morning and perhaps we’ll agree was all that passed. So -Tom came home with his ten pound, and pay’d his rent; and -early next morning one of the butcher’s sent out his <ins class="corr" id="tn-82" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'lad to Louthan'"> -lad to Louthian</ins> Tom’s for a calf, and as he was about a mile from -the town, went to an ale house door and calls for a bicker of -ale, and as he was drinking it, up comes another butcher’s lad -on the same errand, he being called by the first to come and -drink, which caused another bicker; then come other two on -the same errand; again six more, which made out the ten; -and every one told he was going to Louthian Tom’s for a calf, -which made them think Tom had gathered together all the -calves in that country side: So up they comes to Tom’s house -and every one called for his calf, and his calf; and Tom had -but one calf to serve them all; which he took out and shews -them. Now, says he, whoever gives most for it shall have it, -or I’ll put it to a roup. What said they, our masters bought -it yesterday. Then says Tom, you would be fools to buy it -to day for it is heavy to carry and fashious to lead,<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a> you must -all go home without it; next day Tom got ten summonses, -to answer at the instance of the butchers for selling his calf -and not delivering it. Tom then goes to Edinburgh, gets the -ablest lawyer in town for that purpose, tells him the whole of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span> -what past, from first to last. Then said the lawyer, as they -cannot prove a bargain, and deny the paying of the money -again, if you’ll give me the calf, I’ll bring you off; but remember -in law there is no point like that of denial. The calf, says -Tom, you’ll not want the calf, and a stone of butter to make -it ready with. Then the lawyer goes to the court, where Tom -is called upon; his lawyer answers first, who asked the butchers, -if they could tell the price of the calf, or prove the bargain? -they answered, No; but he ordered us to send out our -lads and we would agree about it? Gree about it, said the -judges! why, do you come to sue for a bargain and to gree -about it; Ay, but, said they, we want twenty shillings a piece -from him of money we gave him. Tom is called out, then -said the judge, did you borrow twenty shillings of any of these -men? Not I my lord, I came indeed asking the loan of -money from them, but they would lend me none; and then I -came next day beggar-ways, and they were so generous as to -give me twenty shillings a piece. But said the judge, were -not you to give it back again; I never promised nor never -intended at all, my lord; for what is given to the poor is given -gratis, and I appeal to this whole court that whatever pence -any of you has given to the poor that you look not for any of -it back again. Then Tom was freed at the bar, and the butchers -lost, and laughed at.</p> - -<p>After the court, Tom and the lawyer had a hearty bottle;<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a> -and at parting the lawyer said, now mind Tom, and send me -the calf to-morrow. O yes, says Tom, but you must first send -me out forty shillings for it. What, says the lawyer, did not -you promise me it and a stone of butter to make it ready with, -for gaining your plea? But, says Tom, did you not tell me,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -that the only point of the law was to deny? and you cannot -prove it: So I’ll sell my calf to them that will give most for -it; and if you have learned me law, I have learned you roguery -to your experience. So take this as a reward for helping me -to cheat the butchers: and I think I’m even now with you -both. And this was all the lawyer got of Tom.<a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - - -<div class="chapter" id="ctl-VII"> -<p class="p2 center">THE PLOWMAN’S <span class="smcap">Glory</span>; or, TOM’S SONG.<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">As I was a walking one morning in the spring,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I heard a young plowman so sweetly to sing,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And as he was singing, these words he did say,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No life is like the plowman’s in the month of May.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">The lark in the morning rises from her nest,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And mounts in the air with the dew on her breast,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And with the jolly plowman she’ll whistle and she’ll sing,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And at night she’ll return to her nest back again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">If you walk in the fields any pleasure to find,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">You may see what the plowman enjoys in his mind;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There the corn he sows grows and the flowers do spring,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the plowman’s as happy as a prince or a king.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">When his days work is done that he has to do,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Perhaps to some country walk he will go,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There with a sweet lass he will dance and sing,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And at night return with his lass back again.</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">And as they return from the walk in the town,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When the meadows is mowed and the grass is cut down,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If they chance for to tumble among the green hay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It’s kiss me now or never the damsel will say.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Then he rises next morning to follow his team,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Like a jolly plowman so neat and so trim;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If he kiss a pretty girl he will make her his wife,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And she loves her jolly plowman as dear as her life.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Come Molly and Dolly let’s away to the wake,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There the plow boys will treat us with beer ale and cake,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And if in coming home they should gain their Ends,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ne’er fear but they’ll marry us, or make us amends.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">There’s Molly and Dolly, Nelly and Sue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s Ralph, John and Willie and young Tommy too;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Each lad takes his lass to the wake or the fair,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Adzooks they look rarely, I vow and declare.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p4 center smcap lsp2">Finis</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="HISTORY_OF"><em>HISTORY OF -JOHN CHEAP THE CHAPMAN.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[A Falkirk edition of this chap-book, printed by T. Johnston in 1798, has been -used here. The full title is—‘The History of John Cheap the Chapman: containing -above a Hundred Merry Exploits done by him and his fellow Traveller, -Drowthy Tam, a sticked Shaver. In three parts.’ It has been usual to suspect -that the work is autobiographical to some extent.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="hjc-P"> -<p class="p2 center">THE HISTORY OF JOHN CHEAP THE CHAPMAN.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Preface.</span></h3> - -<p class="noindent">John Cheap the chapman, was a very comical short thick -fellow, with a broad face and a long nose; both lame and lazy, -and something leacherous among the lasses: he chused rather -to sit idle than work at any time, as he was a hater of hard -labour. No man needed to offer him cheese and bread after -he curst he would not have it; for he would blush at bread -and milk, when hungry, as a beggar doth at a babee. He -got the name of John Cheap the chapman, by his selling 20 -needles for a penny, and twa leather laces for a farthing. He -swore no oaths but one, which was, Let me never sin.</p> - -<p>He used no imprecations, But let me never cheat nor be -cheated, but rather cheat, &c.</p> - -<p>He gave bad counsel to none but children, to burn the bonecombs, -that their mother might buy another when he came -again.</p> - -<p>He never fought with any but dogs,<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> and the good wives -daughters in their daffing, and that’s not dangerous.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="hjc-I"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part I.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="p1 pfs90"><em>The following relation is taken from his own mouth, -verbatim.</em></p> - -<p class="noindent">I John Cheap by chance, at some certain time, doubtless -against my will, was born at the Hottom, near Habertehoy -mill: My father was a Scots Highlandman, and my mother a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -Yorkshire wench, but honest, which causes me to be of a -mongrel kind; I made myself a chapman when very young, -in great hopes of being rich when I became old; but fortune -was fickle and so was I; for I had not been a chapman above -two days, until I began to consider the deep ditches, midden -dubs, biting dogs and wiet sacks: And what comfort is it, -says I, to lye in a cows oxter, the length of a cold winter -night: to sit behind backs, till the kail be a cuttied up, and -then to lick colley’s leavings.<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a></p> - -<p>My first journey was through old Kilpatrick, all the day -long I got no meat nor money until the evening, I began to -ask for lodging, then every wife to get me away, would either -give me a cogful of kail, or piece of cake. Well says I to myself, -if this be the way, I shall begin in the morning to ask for -lodging, or any time when I am hungry. Thus I continued -going from house to house, until my belly was like to burst, -and my pockets could hold no more; at last I came to a farmer’s -house, but thinking it not dark enough to prevail for -lodging, sat down upon a stone at the end of the house, till -day-light would go away out of the west; and as I was going -to get up to go in to the house, out comes the goodwife, as I -supposed her to be, and sat down at the end of the stone I -being at the other, there she began to make off her water with -full force, which I bore with, very modestly, till near an end; -then she made the wind follow with such force, as made (as I -thought) the very stone I leaned upon to move, which made -me burst out into laughter; then up gets the wife, and runs -for it; I followed hard after into the house, and as I entered -the house, I heard the goodman, saying, Ay, ay, goodwife, -What’s the haste, you run so?</p> - -<p>No more passed, until I addressed myself to the goodman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -for quarters; which he answered, “Indeed lad, we hae nae -beds but three, my wife and I, our sells twa, and the twa bits -a little anes, Willie and Jenny lies in ane, the twa lads our twa -servant men Willie Black and Tam, lies in anither, and auld -Mags my mither, and the lass Jean Tirram lies the gither, and -that fills them a’.” O but says I, Goodman, there is some of -them fuller than others, you may let me lie with your mither -and the lass; I shall ly heads and thraws wi’ them, and keep -on my breeks. A good keep me, quo’ the lass, frae a’ temptations -to sin, altho’ thou be but a callen, heth I’ll rather ly wi’ -Sannock Garner. No, no, cries the goodwife, he’s no be here -the night. Dear good-wife, said I, what ails you at me? a -d—l be here, an’ ye be here the night, said she; ho, ho, said I, -but I’m here first, and first com’d first serv’d, good-wife; but -an’ the ill thief be a friend of your’s, you’ll have room for him -too. Ye thief like widdyfu’, said she, are ye evening me to be -sib to the foul thief; it’s weel kend I am come of good honest -fouks: It may be so goodwife, said I, but ye look rather the -other way, when ye would lodge the d—l in your house and -ca’ out a poor chapman to die, such a stormy night as this. -What do ye say! says she, there was na a bonnier night since -winter came in nor this. O goodwife, what are you saying! -Do ye not mind, when you and I was at the east end of the -house, such a noise of wind and water was then; a wae worth -the filthy body, said she, is not that in every part. What said -the goodman, a wat well there was nae rain when I came in: -The wife then shuts me out, and bolted the door behind me: -Well, said I, but I shall be through between thy mouth and -thy nose or the morrow. It being now so dark, and I a stranger, -could see no place to go to, went into the corn yard, but finding -no loose straw I fell a drawing one of their stacks, sheaf -by sheaf, until I pulled out a threave or two, and got into the -hole myself, where I lay as warm as a pye; but the goodman -in the morning, perceiving the heap of corn sheaves, came -running to carry it away, and stop up the hole in the stack -wherein I lay, with some of the sheaves, so with the steighling -of the straw, and him cursing the thieves who had done it: I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span> -then skipping out of the hole, ho, ho, said I, goodman, you’re -not to bury me alive in your stack: He then began to chide -me, vowing he would keep my pack for the damage I had -done: whereupon, I took his servants witnesses he had robbed -me; when hearing me urge him so, he gave me my pack -again, and off I came to the next house, where I told the -whole story.</p> - -<p>My next exploit was near Carluke, between Hamiltown and -Lanerk: Where on a cold stormy night, I came to a little -town with four or five houses in it; I went twice through it, -but none of them would give me the credit to stand all night -among their horse, or yet to ly in their cow’s oxter: At last I -prevailed with a wife, if her husband was willing, to let me -stay, if he was not against it, to which he answered, “If I -should ly in his midden-dib, I should get no quarters from him -that night; a wheen lazy idle villains rins a to be chapman, -comes through the country fashing fouks, ay seeking quarters; -the next day ye’ll be gaun wi’ a powder’d pirrewig, and a watch -at your arse, and winna let fouk stand afore your chop doors, -ye’ll be sae saucy.”</p> - -<p>After hearing my sentence from the goodman, expecting no -relief but to ly without, yet I perceived when he came out of -the barn, he only drew too the door behind him: So when he -was gone, I slipt into the barn, and by help of one of the -kiples, climbs up the mou, and there dives down among the -sheaves, and happed myself all over, so that I lay as warm as -the goodman himself. But in the morning long before day, -two fellows came into the barn, and fell a threshing, that by -their disturbance I could sleep no more; at last I got up with -all my hair hanging over my face, and when he that stood on -the opposite side perceived me, I made my eyes to roll, and -wrayed my face in a frightful manner, so that the poor fellow -supposed he had seen the deil, or something as ill, gave a rore -as if he had been sticked, and out at the door he runs; the -other following after him crying, Wa’ Johny man, what did -you see? O! Sandy, Sandy, the deil’s on the tap o’ the mou’, -sheavling his mouth at me; I’ll not be so well this month<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -man, my heart’s out o’ its hole, wou but yon be a fearfu’ like -fake indeed, it would fright ony living creature out o’ their -senses.</p> - -<p>I hearing the fear they were in, cried unto them not to -be frighted, for I was not the deil, but a poor chapman who -could not get quarters last night a foul fa’ thy carcase sir, for -our Jock is through the midden-dib, dirt and a’ the gither; -he who went last came again, but the other man ran into -the house, and told what he had seen: The goodman and his -wife came running, he with a grape in his hand, and her with -the Bible,<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> the one crying Sandy, Sandy, is’t true that the deil -was in the barn; Na, na, said he, it’s but a chapman, but poor -Jock has gotten a fright wi’ him. They laughed heartily at -the sport, took me in to breakfast, and by this time poor -Johnny was gone to bed.<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a></p> - -<p>After this I travelled up the water of Clyde, near the foot -of Tintock-hill, where I met with a sweet companion, who was -an older traveller than I, who gave me more information how -to blow the goodwife, and sleek the goodman, with him I kept -company for two months, and as we travelled down Tweed -towards the border we being both hungry and could get -nothing to buy for the belly, we came unto a wife who had -been kirning, but she would give us nothing, nor sell so much -as one halfpenny’s worth of her sour milk; Na, na, said she, -I’ll neither sell butter, bread or milk, it’s a’ little enough to sair -my ain family: ye that’s chapman may drink water, ye dinna -work sair. Ay, but goodwife, said I, I hae been at Temple-bar, -where I was sworn ne’er to drink water, if I could get -better: What do ye say, said she, about Temple-bar? A town -just about twa three mile and a bittock frae this: A thief -ane was to swear there, an’ it wasna’ auld Willie Miller the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -cobler, the ill thief a neither minister nor magistrate ever was -in’t a’.</p> - -<p>O but says the other lad, the Temple-bar he means by is at -London. Yea, yea, lad, an ye be cum’d frae London ye’re no -muckle worth, for the fouks there awa, is a’ witches and warlocks, -deils, brownies and fairies.<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> We’ll a wat that is true, -said I, and that thou shalt know, thou hard hearted wretch, -who would have people to starve or provoke them to steal. -With that I rose and lifts twa or three long straws, and casting -knots on them, into the byre I went and throws a knotted -straw to every cows stake, saying, Thy days shall not be long: -The wife followed, wringing her hands, earnestly praying for -herself and all that was hers. I then came out at the door, -and lifted a stone, running three times round about, and -threw it over the house,<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> muttering some words, which I knew -not myself, and concluding with these words, “Thou Monsieur -Diable,<a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> brother to Beelzebub god of Ekron, take this wife’s -kirn, butter and milk, sap and substance, without and within, -so that she may die in misery, as she would have others to -live.”<a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a></p> - -<p>The wife hearing the aforsaid sentence, clapt her hands, and -called out another old woman as foolish as herself, who came -crying after us to come back, back we went, when she made -us eat heartily of butter and cheese; then she earnestly -pleaded with me to go and lift my cantrups, which I did, upon -her promising never to deny a hungry traveller meat nor -drink, whether they had money to pay for’t or not: and never<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -to serve the poor with the old proverb, Go home to your own -parish;<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> but give them less or more, as ye see them in need. -This faithfully she promisee to do while she lived, and with -milk, we drank towards her cow’s health and her own, not forgetting -her husband and the bull’s, as the one was goodman -of the house, and the other of the byre; and away we came in -all haste, lest some of a more understanding nature should -come to hear of it, and follow after us.<a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a></p> - -<p>In a few days thereafter we came to an ale-house in a moor, -far distant from any other, it being a sore day of wind and -rain, we could not travel therefore was obliged to stay there, -and the house being very throng, we could get no bed but the -servant lasses, which we was to have for a pennyworth of pins -and needles, and she was to ly with her master and mistress: -But as we were going to bed, in comes three Highland drovers -on their way home from England; the landlord told them -that the beds were all taken up but one, that two chapmen -was to ly in; one of them swore, his broad sword should fail -him, if a chapman lay there that night. They took our bed, -and made us sit by the fire all night: I put on a great many -peats, and when the drovers were fast asleep, I put on a big -brass pan full of water, and boiled their brogs therein, for the -space of half an hour, then lays them as they were, every pair -by themselves; so when they rose, every one began to chide -another, saying, “Hup, pup, ye sheing a brog,” for not one of -them would serve a child of ten years of age, being so boil’d -in, the landlord persuaded them that their feet was swelled -with their hard traveling, being so wet last night, and they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -would go on well enough if they had travelled a mile or two. -Now the Highlandmen laught at me the night before, when -they lay down in the bed I was to have; but I laught as much -to see them all three trot away in the morning with their -boil’d brogs in their hands.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="hjc-II"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part II.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">We came again to a place near Sutry-hill, where the ale was -good, and very civil usage, and our drought being very great -the more we drank, the better we lov’d it: and here we fell in -company with a quack doctor, who bragged us with bottle -about, for two days and two nights, only when one fell drunk, -we pushed and pricked him with a big prin, to keep him from -sleeping. He bought of our hair, and we of his pills and -drugs, he having as much knowledge of the one, as we had of -the other, only I was sure, I had as much as would set a whole -parish to the midden or mug, all at once.</p> - -<p>But at last our money ran short, and the landlady had no -chalk nor faith to credit us seeing by our coats, courage, and -conduct, that we would little mind performance against the -day of payment, so then we began to turn sober and wise -behind the hand, and every one of us to seek supply from -another, and when we collected all the money we had amongst -us, on the table, it was but fourpence halfpenny, which we -lovingly divided among us, but only three babees a piece, and -as Drouthy Tom’s stock and mine was conjunct, we gave the -quack again his sh——g stuff and stinking drugs, and he gave -us our goods and hair, which we equally divided betwixt us, -the whole of it only came to eighteen shillings and sixpence -prime cost, and so we parted; I went for East Lothian, and -Tom for the West; but my sorting of goods being very unsuitable -for that country, I got but little or no money, which -caused me to apply to the goodman for to get lodging, and it -being upon a Saturday’s night was hard to be found till very -late in the night. I prevailed to get staying in a great farmers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -house, about two miles from Haddington; they were all at -supper when I went in; I was ordered to sit down behind -their backs, the goodwife then took a dish, went round the -servants, and collected a soup out of every cog,<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> which was -sufficient to have served three men; the goodwife ordered me -to be laid in the barn all night for my bed, but the bully-fac’d -goodman swore he had too much stuff in it, to venture me -there, the goodwife said I should not ly within the house, for -I would be o’er near the lasses bed, then the lads swore I -should not go with them,<a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> for I was a forjesket like fellow, -and (wha kens whether I was honest or not) he may fill his -wallet wi’ our cloaths and gang his wa’ or day light. At last -I was conducted out to the swine’s stye, to sleep with an old -sow and seven pigs, and there I lay for two nights<a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> In the -night the young pigs came gruzling about me very kindly, -thinking I was some friend of their mother’s come to visit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -them; they gave me but little rest, always coming kissing me -with their cold noses, which caused me to beat them off with -my staff, which made them to make a terrible noise, so that -their old mother came up to argue the matter, running upon -me with open mouth, but I gave her such a rout over her -long snout, which caused her to roar out murder in her own -language that alarmed the servants where they lay, who -came to see what was the matter, I told them, their old sow -was going to swallow me up alive, bid them to go and bring -her meat, which they did, and the brute became peaceable.</p> - -<p>On the Sabbath morning I came into the house, the goodman -asked me if I could shave any, yes, said I, but never did -on the Sabbath-day. I fancy, said he, you are some Westland -Whig?<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a> Said I, you may suppose me to be what you -think proper to day, but yesternight you used me like a Tory, -when you sent me into a stye to ly in your sow’s oxter, who -is a fitter companion for a devil, than any human creature, the -abominablest brute upon the earth, said I, who was forbidden -to be eaten under the law, and cursed under the gospel<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a>: Be -they curs’d or be they bless’d said he, I wish I had anew of -them; but an’ ye will not tak aff my beard, ye’s get nae meat -here the day; then said I, if you will give me meat and drink -for money, until the Sabbath be past, I’ll take on my wallat, -and go along with you to the kirk, and tell your minister how -you used me as a hog. No said the goodwife, you shall not -want your crowdie man. But my heart being full of sorrow -and revenge, a few of them sufficed me.</p> - -<p>On the morning I went into the house, the goodman ordered -me the pottage pot to lick, for, says he it is an old property<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -to chapmen. Well I had no sooner begun to it, then out -came a great big mastiff dog from below the bed, and grips -me by the breast, then turns me over upon my back, and takes -the pot himself; Ay, ay, said the goodman I think your -brother pot-licker and you cannot agree about your breakfast? -A well said I, goodman, you said that pot-licking was a chapman’s -property, but your dog proves the contrary: So away -I comes and meeting the goodwife at the door, bids her farewel -for ever; but what said I is your husband’s name? to -which she answered, John Swine, I was thinking so, said I, he -has such dirty fashions: but whether was yon his mother or -his sister, I lay with these two nights.</p> - -<p>All that day I travelled the country west from Haddington, -but could get no meat; when I asked if they had any to -sell, they told me, they never did sell any bread, and I found -by sad experience, they had none to give for nothing. I came -unto a little country village, and went through it all, house -after house, and could get neither bread nor ale to buy; At -last I came to a poor weavers house, and asked him if he -could lend me a hammer? Yes, said he, What are you going -to do with it? Indeed said I, I am going to knock out all -my teeth with it, for I can get no bread to buy in all this -country, for all the stores and stacks you have in it: What -said he, was you in the minister’s? I know not said I, does -he keep an ale-house? O na, said he, he preaches every Sunday: -and does he preach, said I? is it to harden your hearts? -haud well together? have no charity? hate strangers? hunger -the poor? eat and drink all yourselves? better burst your bellies -then give it to beggars, or let good meat spoil<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a>: if your -minister be as naughty as his people, I’m positive he’ll drive -a louse to London for the hide and tallow. Here I bought -the weaver’s dinner for twopence, and then set out again, -keeping my course westward. It being now night, I came to -a farmer’s house south from Dalkieth, the goodman being -very civil, and desirous of news, I related the whole passages<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -of two days and nights by-past; whereat he was greatly -diverted, and said, I was the first he heard of, that ever -that man gave quarters to before, though he was an elder of -the parish. So the goodman and I fell so thick, that he -ordered me to be laid on a shake down bed beyond the fire, -where I lay more snug than among the swine.</p> - -<p>Now there was three women lying in a bed in the same -apartment, and they not minding that I was there, first one of -them rose and let her water go in below the chimney-grate, -where I had a perfect view of her bonny-thing, as the coal-fire -burnt so clearly all the night, then another rose and did the -same, last of all got up the old matron, as she appear’d to be, -like a second-handed goodwife, or a whirl’d o’er maiden, six -times overturned, and as she let her dam go, she also with full -force, when done, let a fart like the blast of a trumpet, which -made the dust on the hearth-stone to fly up like mist about -her arse, whereat I was forc’d to laugh out, which made her -run for it, but to smother the laughter I stapt the blankets in -my mouth; she went to bed and waken’d the other two saying, -O dole! what will I tell you? yon chapman has seen a’ -our a—ses the night; shame fa’ him, said they, for we had nae -mind he was there: I wat well, says one of them, I’se no rise -till he be awa’, but said the old woman, gin he has seen mine, -I cannot help it, it’s just like other folks, and fin’t a hair care -I. In the morning the old matron got up first and ordered -up the house, then told me to rise now for chapmen and every -body was up, then she asked me if I had an use of laughing -in my sleep? Yes, said I, when I see any daft like thing I -can look and laugh at it, as well sleeping as walking; A good -preserve us, said she, ye’re an unco body, but ye needna wait -on our porridge time, I’se gie you cheese and bread in your -pouch, which I willingly accepted, and away I came.</p> - -<p>Then I kept my course west by the Pentland hills, where I -got plenty of hair,<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> good and cheap, besides a great quantity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -of old brass, which was an excellent article to make my little -pack seem big and weighty. Then I came into a little country -village, and going in by the side of the house, there was a -great big cat sitting in a weaver’s window, beiking herself in -the sun, and washing her face with her feet: I takes her a -civil nap on the nose, which made her turn back in through -the window, and the weaver having a plate full of hot pottage -in the innerside to cool, poor badrons ran through the middle -of them, burnt her feet, and threw them all to the ground, ran -thro’ the house, crying fire and murder in her own language, -which caused the weary wicked webster to come running to -the door, where he attacked me in a furious rage, and I to -avoid the first shock, fled to the top of the midden, where -endeavouring to give me a kick, I catched him by the foot, -and tumbled him back over into the dirty midden dub,<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> where -both his head and shoulders went under dirt and water; but -before I could recover my elwand or arms, the wicked wife -and her twa sons was upon me in all quarters, the wife hung -in my hair, while the two sons boxed me about and before, -and being thus over-powered by numbers, I was fairly beat of -by this wicked webster, his troops being so numerous.</p> - -<p>The same day as I was going up to a country house, I met -on the way a poor beggar wife with a boy, who was both of -them bitten in different places by a big mastiff dog, they persuaded -me to turn back, but I said I should first see him: so -up I goes to the side of a hedge, and cuts a long bramble full -of prickles, which I carried in my left hand, with my sturdy -staff in the right; and as I came near the house, Mr. Youffer<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -came roaring upon me like a lion, he being a tyke of such a -monstrous size, frighted me so that I ran back; but he pursued -me so hard, I was forced to face about, and holding out -the briar to him, which he gripped in his mouth, and then I -stripped it through his mouth, and gave him a hearty blow -upon his ear with my rung, which made him go tumbling to -his master’s door, and when he got up he could not fight any, -his mouth being so full of prickles by the biting of the briar, -which caused him go about yuling and rubbing his mouth with -his foot, the people of the house came running to bite me, but -my briar had bitten him; they then called him in, and fell to -picking the pricks out of his tongue.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="hjc-III"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part III.</span></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">I travelled then west by Falkirk, by the foot of the great -hills; and one night after I had got lodging in a farmer’s -house, there happened a contest between the goodman and -his mother, he being a young man unmarried, as I understood, -and formerly their sowens had been that thin, so the goodman -being a sworn birley-man<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> of that barony, came to -survey the sowens before they went on the fire, and actually -swore they were o’er thin, and she swore by her conscience -they would be thick enough if ill hands and ill een<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a> baed -awa’ from them: A sweet be here mither, said he, do ye<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -think that I’m a witch? Witch here or witch there, said the -wife, swearing by her saul, and that was nae banning, she said -they’ll be good substantial meat, a’ what say ye chapman? -indeed goodwife, said I, sowens is but saft meat at the best; -but if ye make them thick enough, and put a good lump of -butter in them, they’ll do very well for a supper: I true sae -lad, said she, ye hae some sense; so the old woman put on the -pot with her sowens, and went to milk her cows, leaving me to -steer; the goodman her son, as soon as she went out, took a -great cog full of water and put it into the pot amongst the -sowens, and then went out of the house, and left me alone: I -considered what sort of a pish the bed supper I was to get if -I staid there, I thought to set out, but takes up the pitcher -with water, and fills up the pot until it was running over, -and then takes up my pack and comes about a mile farther -that night, leaving the honest woman and her son, to sup their -watery witch’t sowens at their own leisure.</p> - -<p>I then turned towards the east, through a place called -Slamanen, and was lodged one night near a place called Tod’s -bughts, where there was a boul-horn’d goodwife, but a very -civil goodman, when I went in, she took up a dish from the -dog wherein was a few he had left, and with a collection more -from other cogs, she offered them to me, which I refused, ’m, -said she, ye’re a lordly sort of a chapman indeed; so I began -to divert the goodman, by telling him a deal of fine stories to -make him laugh, but could not get near the fire, at last said, -O goodwife, I’ll tell you news; ay, chapman, what’s that, said -she? indeed my feet’s very cauld, said I, whereat they all -laught but the goodwife, she gloom’d until the rest was done, -and then took a laugh at it herself: So the goodman ordered -the Johnies, Jamies and Jennies with their wheels to sit -about; then I was set beyond the fire, and preferred to steer -their sowens, but when they were ready and put up in dishes, -the goodwife order’d one of the lads to take a pair of old -blankets and two sacks, and shew me where I was to ly in the -barn: Ho, ho, thinks I, there’s no supper for me, but I’ll -remember this, to pay her stock and annual. So I went to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -barn and lay till next morning, about Chapman’s rising time, -when pottage was ready, and then gives the wife a fine cotton -lace and a few pins, which pleased her so well, that she went -through the cogs and collected about a mutchkin of pottage -for me, for which I thanked her: “Awat well lad, said she, an -ye be coming buy ony time, ye’s be welcome to a night o’ our -barn, for ye hae na steal’d naething,” thanks to you goodwife, -said I, that’s very fair; “Indeed lad ’tis no every ane we’ll -trust wi’ our new barn, farfore sud we?” O goodwife, it wad -be a great thief that wad run awa’ wi’ a barn on his back I -wonder ye let it stand out all night: Hute awa’ ye daft body, -how can we get it in, ke awa’ chapman ye’re joking me now.</p> - -<p>I then took a turn round the country for two weeks, and -then came back to be avenged on the naughty wife and her -sowens, it being very dark or I came in, the goodwife did not -know me, but made her speech as follows: “Indeed, says she, -ye’s no be here, for there is so many thieves and robbers gawn -a-thort the kintry, an our goodman’s no at hame; is thou -honest enough?” I can want nothing of my honesty goodwife; -but did you ever see any people gawn thro’ the country, -telling they were thieves? “Na, a wat well no, said she.” -Then, said I, I’m sure I did not take away your barn on my -back the last time I was here; “Yee lad, said she, are ye the -chapman that cracket sae well to our goodman? come in by, -ye’s get a night o’ the barn yet;” thanks to you goodwife and -we sud get nae mair. I then being preferred to my old seat -and got the sowens to steer, until they were near ready, when -the goodwife ordered the lad to take the old blankets, and -shew me to my bed in the barn; I then gave the sowens their -last turn, and having about the bigness of a nut of C—l S—p, -drops it into the pot, then went off to bed in the barn as fast -as I could, and made fast both the doors within, lest the -bewitched sowens out of the pot should attack me in my -sleep: Next morning when I came in, the goodwife began to -pray for herself and all that she had, saying, “It’s Wednesday -thro’ a’ the warld and good be between you and me chapman, -for ye’re either a witch or a warlock, or something that’s no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -canny, for ye witch’t our sowens last night, for they gaed mad, -rag’d out o’ the pot, belling and bizing like barm, I thought -they wad run out to the barn to you, see how they fill’d up my -milk tub, and a’ the dishes in the house is fu’ o’ them.” Dear -goodwife, said I, they were very good when I left them, tho’ I -did not prie them, and wish’d them as much good of them as -I got, but certainly they’re not witcht, but a blessing in them, -when they are so multiplied: “Gae awa, cried she, in a passion, -ye’re no canny, ye’se ne’er be here again:” I need not -value that, said I, for I have nothing to thank you for, but my -dinner, supper, and breakfast, and for a night o’ your barn, I’ll -pay it when I come back: “Ay, ay, said she, ye need nae thank -me for what ye did not get:” that’s not my fault goodless -good, said I, prosperity to you and your witcht sowens.<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a></p> - -<p>The next little town I came to, and the first house which I -entered, the wife cried out, “plague on your snout sir, ye filthy -blackguard chapman like b—h it ye are, the last time ye came -here ye gard our Sandy burn the good bane kame it I gade a -sax pence in Falkirk, ay did ye, and sae did ye, and sae did -ye een, and said, ye wad gie him a muckle clear button to do -it:” Me, said I, I never had ado with you all the days of my -life, and do not say that Sandy is mine: “A wae wirth the -body am I saying ye had ado wi’ me, I wadna hae ado wi’ the -like o’ you nor I am sure wi’ them I never saw.” But what -about the button and the bane kame goodwife? Sannock is -na this the man? Ay is’t cried the boy, gie me my button, -for I burnt the kame, and she paid<a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> me for’t, Gae awa’ sir, said -I, your mother and you is but mocking me; it was either you -or ane like you, or some ither body. O goodwife, I mind wha’ -it is now, it’s ane just like me, when ye see the taen ye see the -tither, they ca’ him Jock Jimpither: A wae worth him quo’ -the wife, if I winna thrapple him for my good bane comb. -Now said I, good wife be good, bridle your passion, and buy a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -bane comb and colour’d napkin, I’ll gie you a whaken penny-worth -will gar you sing in your bed, If I should sell you the -tae half, and gift you the tither, and gar you pay for every -inch of it sweetly or a’ be done: Hech man, said she, ye’re a -hearty fallow, and I hae need o’ a’ these things, for our Sannock’s -head is a’ hotchen, and our John’s is little better, for -an’ let them alane but ae eight days, they’ll grow as grit as -grosets. And here I sold a bone comb and a napkin, for she -believed such a douse lad as I, had no hand in making her -boy burn the bone comb.</p> - -<p>The next house I came into, there was a very little taylor, -sitting on a table like a t—d on a truncher, with his legs plet -over other, made me imagine he was a sucking three footed -taylor, first I sold him a thimble, and then he wanted needles, -which I showed him one paper after another, he looking their -eyes and trying their nebs in his sleeve, dropt the ones he -thought proper on the ground between his feet, where he sat -in a dark corner near the fire, thinking I would not perceive -him: O, said he, them needles of yours is not good man, I’ll -no buy any of them, I do no not think you need, said I, taking -them out of his hand, and lights a candle was standing -near by, come, said I, sit about you thieving dog till I gather -up my needles, gathers up ten of them, come said he, I’ll buy -twal-penny’s worth of them, since I troubled you sae muckle; -no, said I, you lazie dog, I’ll sell you none, if there’s any on -the ground, seek them up and stap them in a beast’s a—se, -but if ye were a man I would burn thee in the fire, tho’ it -be in your own house, but as your a poor taylor and neither -man nor boy, I’ll do nothing but expose you for what you -are. O dear honest chapman, cried his wife, ye mauna do -that and I’ll gie you cheese and bread. No, no, you thieves, -I’m for nothing but vengeance; no bribes, for such: So as I -was lifting my pack, there was a pretty black cat which I -spread over with my napkin, and took the four corners in my -hand, carrying her as a bundle, untill I came about the middle -of the town, then provoking the dogs to an engagement with -me, so that there came upon me four or five collies, then I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -threw the poor taylor’s cat in the midst of them, there a terrible -battle ensued for some time, and badrons had certainly -died on the field had I not interposed, and got her off mortally -wounded; the people who saw the battle, alarmed the -taylor, and he sallied out like a champion with his elwand in -his hand, go back, said I, you lousie dog, or I’ll tell about the -needles, at which word he turned about. I went to an ale-house -to get some breakfast, there they asked me where I was -all night, as it was usual for chapmen to get meat where -they lodged, I told where it was, but would take none of -their meat, they seem to me not to be canny, for this morning -they were making ropes of cold sowens to crown their stacks -wi: Gae awa’, cried the wife, I cannot believe it. Die in your -ignorance for me: The wife sent away her son to see if it was -so, but or he came back I set out, and travelled down the side -of a water called Evan: and as I was coming past a mill dam, -there was a big clownish fellow lifting a pitcher of water out -of the dam, so as he dipt it full and set down on the ground, -staring at me, he tumbled in himself out of sight o’er head and -ears, and as soon as he got out, I said, Yo ho friend, Did you -get the fish? What an’ a fish ye b—h, O said I, I thought ye, -seen a fish, when you jumped in to make it jump out: What a -d—l sir, are you mocking me? runs round his pitcher, and -gives me a kick on the a—se, so that I fell designedly on his -pitcher, and tumbling it down the bank, went in pieces, his -master and another man looking and laughing at us, the poor -fellow complained of me to him, but got no satisfaction.</p> - -<p>The same evening, as I was going towards the town of Linlithgow, -meets an old crabet fellow riding upon an old glaied -mare, which he always was a threshing upon with his stick: -Goode’en to you goodman, said I, are you going to the bull -wi’ your mare? What do ye say sir, they gang to the bull wi’ -a cow ye brute. O yes goodman, ye are right, said I, but how -do they call that he beast that rides on the mare’s back, they -ca’t a cusser sir, a well then goode’en to you Master Cusser. -He rides a little bit, then turns back in a rage, saying, I say -sir, your last words are war nor your first, he comes then at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -the flight to ride me down, but I struck his beast on the face, -and in the short turn about it fell, yet or I got my pack to the -ground, he cutted me on the head at the first stroke, and then -getting clear of the pack, played it away for some time, till by -blows on the face, I made him blood at both mouth and nose; -then he cried out, chapman, we are baith daft, for we’ll kill -oursells and make nothing o’t, we had better gree, with all my -heart, said I, and what will ye buy? nothing but a pair of -beard sheers, said he, and give me them cheap, so I sold him -a pair of sheers for three half-pence, and gave him a needle, -then parted good friends after the battle was over.</p> - -<p>So I went to Linlithgow that night, where I met with -Drouthy Tom my dear companion, and here we had a most -terrible encounter with the tipenny for two nights and a day, -and then we set out for Fife on the hair order, by way of -Torryburn and Culross and coming up to a parcel of women -washing by a water side, I buys one of their hairs, the time I -was cutting it off, Tom fell a courting and kissing a girl among -them, but she fell to crying against him, saying ye have put -your hands a-tween my feet; cries an old wife, mony a ane -has taen me by there, and I ne’er said a word about it, a-wheen -daft jades, canna ye had your tongues whan its to your shame -ye speak; gae wa’, cried the lass the filthy body at he is, the -last chapman that kist me had a horse-pack, but he’ll hae naething -in his but a whisp of strae, some auld breeks, hare skins, -maukin skins, ony thing that fills the bag and bears bouk, and -yet he would kiss and handle me, hech I was made for a better -fallow, ane of them came by ae day, and sell’d our Meg -twa ell and a quarter o’ linnen to be her bridal sark, for he -had nae mair, and when she made it, and put it on, it wadna -hide her hech, hech, he.</p> - -<p class="p4 center smcap lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="LEPER_THE_TAYLOR"><em>LEPER THE TAYLOR.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The following pages contain a reprint of a chap-book which had a long run of -popularity. The edition followed bears this on the title-page:—‘Fun upon Fun: -or, the Comical Merry Tricks of Leper the Taylor. Stirling: Printed and sold -by C. Randall, <span class="allsmcap">MDCCXCIX</span>.’ It consists of 16 pp., and each of the two parts has -a title-page.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="ltt-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE COMICAL TRICKS -OF LEPER THE TAYLOR.<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a></p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part I.</span></h3> - -<p class="noindent">Leper’s father lived in a village about six miles from Glasgow, -and died when Leper was but very young, he left a widow and -three children, two daughters and a son, and Leper being the -youngest, was greatly idolized by his mother, who was a good -soft natured woman, very industrious, and followed the business -of bleaching of cloth.</p> - -<p>As Leper grew up, he turned a very mischievous boy, playing -tricks on the neighbourhood, such as tying cats to dogs-tails, -breaking hen’s legs, stoping people’s lumbs or chimney-tops; -so that his poor mother was sadly vex’d with complaints -against him.</p> - -<p>To get him kept from mischief, she prevailed with a taylor -to take him an apprentice, he settled and was very peaceable -for some time, until he had got so much of the trade on his -finger-ends as he might pass for a journey-man, and then he -was indifferent whether he stayed with his master or not; his -mistress gave him but very little meat when they wrought at -home, so he loved best to be in other houses, where he got -both meat and diversion.<a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span></p> - -<p>Leper being resolved on revenge against his mistress, for -her thin kail, no kitchen and little bread; for tho’ flesh was -boiled in the pot, none for poor Leper and his master, but a -little bit on Sabbaths, and all the bones were kept, and put in -the pot, to make the broth thro’ the week. Leper perceived -always when she took off the pot, she turned her back to them -and took out the flesh, and set it on a shelf within her own bed;<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> -one night after work, he steals out a pan, cuts a piece of flesh -out of a dead horse, then goes to a lime kiln and boils it; next -day his master being from home, his landlady and him being -in the house, after she had set off the pot as usual, and taken -out her bit of good beef, he goes out for some time, and then -comes in, saying, The minister’s lass is wanting you to -go directly and speak to her mistress, away she goes in all -haste, Leper runs and takes away her bit of good beef, and -lays down his horse-flesh, and knowing she would soon return -in a passion, and sit down with a sosse in her cushion’d chair -as she used, he takes a large prin and staps it straight up -through the cushion, with its head on the chair and the point -to her back-side: in she comes in a rage, and down she sits -with all her weight on the prin point, and she roars out, -Murder, murder, for she was sticket through the a—se, the -neighbours came running in, and Leper got out with his bit of -good beef, leaving the wives to doctor his landlady’s doup as -they pleased; he still denied the doing of it, and his master -believed it might happen accidentally, but the Houdie was -very often to be had before the hole was got heal again; and -his landlady by eating of that horse-beef, took a loathing at -flesh, so Leper and his master got all the beef to eat ever after, -and his landlady turned one of the kindest mistresses a prentice -could wish for.</p> - -<p>There was a neighbour wife on which Leper used to play -tricks sometimes, for which she came and complained to his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -master, and got him severely beaten<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> several times: Leper -resolved to be revenged on her, so one day he came to the -back-side of her house, (no body being within but herself) and -took up a big stone, and runs it along the rough wall with all -his force, which roared like thunder in the inside of the house, -and frightened the wife so, that she thought the house was -tumbling down about her ears, upon which she ran out and -sat down at a distance, looking when the house would fall -down, till her husband came home, to whom she told the -above story, ‘Hout daft Taupie, said he, the house will stand -these hundred years,’ so by his persuasion they both went into -the house, Leper (knowing they were both in) comes back -and plays the same trick over again, which frighted the goodman -also so much, that he cried out, ‘Run Maggy run, for my -heart plays a’ pitty patty,’ and they would not lodge in the -house any more, till the masons convinced them of its sufficiency.</p> - -<p>There was another neighbour who had a snarling curr dog, -which bit Leper’s leg; Leper resolved to be revenged on the -dog, and so, one night he catches the dog and carries him to -the kirk, where the rope of the bell hang upon the outside, so -with his garter he tied the dog’s fore-foot to the rope, and left -him hanging; the dog struggling to get free, set the bell a -ringing, which alarmed the whole village, every one cried out, -‘Wonderful sirs! Wonderful sirs!<a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> the de’il is ringing the -bell.’ When they saw the black colley hanging the rope, I -true it set the minister and all the people to their prayers:<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> -but Leper fearing he would be found out by his garter, came -to the minister’s side and asked the reverend gentleman, what -was the matter? Indeed my bairn (said he) it’s the de’il ringing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -the kirk-bell; says Leper, I’ll go and see him, for I never saw the -de’il; the minister cry’d, Stop that mad laddie, but Leper ran -and loused the dog, crying, It’s such a man’s dog, which had -the rope in his teeth, they all cried out, ‘The de’il is in the dog, -the de’il is in the dog,’ took up some stones and fell’d poor -colley, and the de’il got the blame of making the dog ring the -bell, this spread Leper’s fame for being one of the wisest -and most couragious taylors that was in all the kingdom; and -many shaking their heads, said, ‘It was a pity he was a taylor, -but a captain or general of an army, as the devil could not -fear him.’</p> - -<p>After this a farmer in the neighbourhood, hearing the fame -of Leper, how he had frighted the de’il frae being a bell-man, -sent for him to an ale-house, and drank with him very heartily, -and told him he was sadly born down with the spirit of jealousy -against his wife, on suspicion of being too free with a servant-lad -she had before, and if he would keep it secret, and learn -him how to find it out, he would give his mother a load of -meal, to which Leper and him agrees, so he gave the poor -supposed cockold instructions how to behave. So home he -goes and feigns himself to be very sick, and every day worse -and worse, taking death to him, blesses his three small children, -and charges his wife not to marry until his children -could do something for themselves: This hypocritical woman -takes the roaring, a-ha, marry, she would never marry! No, -no, there should never man ly by her side, nor kiss her lips -after thee, my lamb Johnny——Then he acted the dying man -as well as possibly he could, the neighbours were called in, and -he’s fair o’erseen<a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> as the old saying is, Before good neighbours; -the sorrowful widow made a sad lament, wrung her hands, and -tearing her hair,——the reverend women<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> about began to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -dress the corpse, asked her for a shirt, ay, ay, said she, He -has twa new linen sarks, and there is an auld ane in the -bottom of the kist it nae body can wear, just take it, ony -thing is good enough for the grave; well, said they, we must -have some linen for a winding sheet, a’well, co’ she, I ha’ -twa cut o’ linen in the kist, but there is a pair of auld linen -sheets hol’d in the mids, may do well enough, I had need -to be carefu’, I’m a poor widow the day, wi’ three sma’ bairns. -Awell, the corpse is dress’d, and laid on the top of a big -chest, while the neighbours sat by her condoling her misfortune, -and wondering how the funeral raisins were to be provided; -said one, the coffin must be seen about first. Ay, ay, -said she, he has some new deals in the barn he bought to mak -a bed o’, but we’ll no break them, there is the auld barn-door -and the chaff-kist will do well enough, ony thing’s good enough -to gang to the grave; but O, co’ she, send for Sandy my -honest auld servant, and he’ll see every thing right done, I’ll -tell him where he’ll get siller to do ony thing wi’, he’s the lad -it will not see me wrang’d; then Sandy comes wrying his -face and rubbing his eyes, O Sandy, there is a sad alteration -here, and ba-a-a she cries like a bitten calf, O sirs, will ye gang -a’ butt the house till I tell Sandy what to do; butt they goes, -and there she fell a kissing of Sandy, and said, Now my dear, -the auld channering ghaist is awa,’ and we’ll get our will o’ -ither; be as haining of every thing as you can, for thou kens -it’s a’ thy ain; but the corpse’s sister and some other people -came in, and ben they came to see the corpse, lifts the cloth -off his face, and seeing him all in a pour of sweat, said, Hegh, -he’s a bonny corp,<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> and a lively like colour, when he could no -longer contain to carry on the joke, but up he got amongst -them, a deal of the people ran for it, and his wife cried out, O -my dear, do ye ken me? Ay ye base jade and whore, better<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -than ever I did. Jumps on to the floor and gets his staff, and -runs after Sandy, and catches him in the fields a little from the -house, gives him a hearty beating, never tell’d him for what; -returns to the house, ate and drank with his sister and neighbours -who had come to see his corpse; poor Sandy went home -with a skinful of terror, and a sorting of sore bones, took a sore -fever, and died in a few days after, so he got quit of his cockler, -and Leper’s mother got her meal.</p> - -<p>Leper’s mother was a careful industrious wife, but as the -by-word is ‘A working mother makes a daly daughter,’ and so it -happened here, for she had two idle glaket sluts of daughters, -that would do nothing but ly in their bed in the morning, till -(as the saying is) ‘The sun was like to burn a hole in their -backsides;’ the old woman being at this time busy bleaching -some cloth, was very early at work in the mornings, and -Leper’s patience was worn out with the laziness of his two -sisters, and he resolved to play a trick on them for their reformation; -so he goes and gets a mortcloth<a id="FNanchor_102" href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> and spreads it -upon the bed above them, and sends the dead bell<a id="FNanchor_103" href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a> thro’ the -town, inviting the people to his sisters’ burial the next day, at -four o’clock afternoon, for they had died suddenly; this -brought all the neighbour-wives in, who one after another -lifted the mortcloth, and said with a great sigh, ‘They’re gone -to their rest, a sudden call indeed!’ Their aunt hearing of -this sudden news, came running in all haste, and coming -through the green where the jades mother was at work, who was -ignorant of the story, she cries out, ‘Fy upon you, woman, fy -upon you,’ says she. What’s the matter, sister? What’s the -matter? ‘I think ye may let your work stand for ae day,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -when your daughters are lying corpse.’ My bairns corpse! I -am certain they went to bed <ins class="corr" id="tn-117" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'heal and fiar'"> -heal and fair</ins> last night. But I tell -you (says the other) the dead bell has been through the town, -warning the folk to the burial, then the mother cries out, ‘O -the villain, O the villain, that he did not send me word.’ So -they both ran, and the mother as soon as she entered the -house, flies into the bed, crying, ‘O my bairns, my dear bairns!’ -on which the sluts rises up in a consternation, to the great -surprize of the beholders, and to the great diversion of the -whole town, and to the great mortification of girls, who thought -shame to set their noses out of doors.</p> - -<p>Leper and his master went to a gentleman’s house to work, -where there was a saucy house-keeper, who had more ignorance -and pride, than good sense and manners; she domineered -over her fellow-servants in a tyrannical manner; Leper resolved -to mortify her pride; so he finds an ant’s nest, and -takes their white eggs, grinds them to a powder, and puts them -into the dish her supper-sowens was to be put in. After she -had taken her supper, as she was covering the table, the imock-powder -began to operate, and she let a great fart, well done -Margaret, says the laird, she runs away for shame, but before -she turned herself round, she gives another raird. My faith, says -the Laird, Margaret, your arse would take a cautioner; before -she got out of the chamber-door, she lets fly another crack; -then she goes to order her fellow-servant to give the laird his -supper, but before she could give the necessary directions, she -gave fire again, which set them all a laughing; she runs into -a room by herself, and there she played away her one gun -battery so fast, as she had been sieging the Havannah. The -laird and lady came to hear the fun, they were like to split -their sides at proud Maggy, so next morning she left the place, -to the great joy of her fellow servants.</p> - -<p class="p1 center">(The end of the First Part.)</p> - -<div class="blockquotx"> - -<p>N.B.—In the Second Part, will be a deal of very diverting -Stories done by LEPER, when he was a Journeyman and -Master.</p></div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span></p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="ltt-II"> -<h3><span class="smcap lsp2">Part II.</span><a id="FNanchor_104" href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Leper’s Landlady became very harsh to his Master, and very -often abused him exceeding sore with both tongue and hands, -and always chided upon him for more money, and to have all the -money in her keeping, which Leper was very sorry for. It so -happened on a day, after the Taylor had got a hearty drubbing -with tongue and tongs, that he pouch’d his thimble, and was -going to make a Queen of her? when she saw that, she cried -out, ‘O will you leave me, a poor tender, dying woman?’ But -Leper knowing the cause of her cursed ill-nature better than -his Master did, advised him to take her on a fine day, like a -mile out of town, and give her a walk, and he would stay at -home, and study a remedy for her disorder.——Away they -goes, but as she was always complaining of her health, and -that she was very weak, she cry’d out frequently, ‘O it is a -crying sin to take a woman in my condition out o’er a -door.’ During their absence, Leper goes and searches her bed, -and below the bolster he gets a bottle of rare whisky, of which -he takes a hearty pull, and then pisses in it to make it up -again, gets a halfpenny worth of snuff and puts it in also, -shakes all together, and so sets it in its place again. Home -they came again, and she was exceedingly distressed as a -woman could be, and cry’d out, ‘It was a horrid thing to take -her out of a house.’ The taylor seeing her so bad, thought she -would have died, and ran as fast as he could and brought her -a dram, but she in her hypocrisy pretended she could not take -it, and called him to help her to bed. Into her bed he lays -her, and he was not well gone until she fell to her bottle, taking -two or three hearty gluts, then she roars out murder, for she -was poisoned, she was poisoned. Bocking and purging began, -and the neighbours are called in, she leaves her blood on poor -Leper, and tells how such an honest woman brought her ae<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -bottle as another was done, and the murdering lown had stole -it, and put in a bottle of poison instead of it. Leper took -to his heels, but was pursued and carried before a Justice of the -Peace, where he told what he had done, which made the Justice -laugh heartily at the joke, and the Taylor’s wife was well purged -both from her feigned sickness, laziness, and cursed ill nature, for -always when she began to curl her nose for the future, the Taylor -had no more to say, ‘But, Maggy, Maggy, mind the bottle.’</p> - -<p>Leper was working with a master taylor in Glasgow, who -hungered his men, and one morning just as the breakfast was set -on the table, in comes a gentleman to try on a suit of clothes, the -Master being obliged to rise, desired the lads to say the grace -themselves, every one refused it, and put it to his neighbour, -till Leper took it, and said as follows, with an audible voice, -that the stranger gentleman might overhear him; “Oh, hoch, -we are a parcel of poor beastly bodies, and we’re as beastly -guided, if we do not work we get nothing to eat, yet we are -always eating and always fretting, fidging and half fasting is -like to be our fortune, scartings and scrapings are the most of -our mouthfu’s; we would fain thank thee for thy fulness if -ever it were so, but the rest of our benefactors are not worth -the acknowledging, hech hey, Amen,” which made the gentleman -laugh till he held his sides, and gave Leper half a crown -to drink.</p> - -<p>Leper was not long done with his apprenticeship till he set -up for himself, and got a journeyman and an apprentice, was -coming into very good business, and had he restrained his -roguish tricks might have done very well. He and his lads -being employed to work in a farmer’s house, where the goodwife -was a great miser, and not very cleanly in making ready -of meat, and snivel’d greatly when she spoke. In the morning -when she went to make their pottage, she made a fashion of -washing the pot, which to appearance seemed to him to be -among the first pots that had been made; then she set it -down before the fire till she went to the well, in which time -Leper looking into it, sees two great holes in the bottom -stopped with clouts, he takes up his goose, and holds it as high<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -as his head, then lets it fall into the pot, which knocked out -the bottom of it; presently in comes the wife with the water, -and pours it into the pot, which set the fire-side all in a dam, -for still as she poured it in, it ran out, the wife being short-sighted, -or what they call sand-blind, looks into the pot, -holds up both her hands and cries, “The losh preserve me, -sirs, for the grip atween the twa holes is broken;” says -Leper the pot was old enough, but do you not ken that -taylor’s pottage is heavier than other mens: indeed lad, -said she, I believe it is sae, but they say ye’re a Warlock, -it’s Wednesday a’ the warld o’er,<a id="FNanchor_105" href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a> and a woful Wednesday -to me indeed, my pot might have lasted me this fifty -years, a sae wad it een.<a id="FNanchor_106" href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a> This sport diverted Leper and his -lads thro’ the day, and after supper, knowing he was to get -but some dirty bed, as the cows and the people lived all in one -apartment,<a id="FNanchor_107" href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> he chused rather to go home; and knowing the -moon was to rise a little after midnight, they sat long by the -fire, told them many a fine story to drive away the time, and -bade the wife go and make their bed to see how it might be; -to save candle she made it in the dark, directly on the floor -behind where they sat, shaking down two bottles of straw: a -calf which chanced to be lying on that spot, and which the -wife did not notice, was covered up with the straw, and the bed -clothes spread over all. The most of the family being gone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -to bed, the wife told them several times to go to bed also; but -Leper knowing of the calf, said, I’ll make my bed come to me, -on which the wife began to pray for herself, and all that was -in the house; so up he gets his elwand, and gives a stroke on -the bed, which caused the brute to get up, and not seeing -where to go, it fell a crying, and turning round, which set the -whole cows in the whole house a roaring out murder in their -own tongue, the wife ran to the bed above the goodman, and -the whole family cried out, not knowing what it was, but -Leper and his two lads whipp’d off the blankets off the brute, -and it ran in among the rest unperceived, then Leper lighted -a candle, and all of them got out of bed, paid Leper for his -work, and more if he pleased, and begged him to go away, and -take the devil with him. So home he went, but never was -employed by that wife more.</p> - -<p>Leper had a deal of the best customers, both in town and -country; so one time he had occasion to go to the parish of -Inchinan to make a wedding suit for a gentleman; after they -were finished, he asked drink-money to his lads, which the -gentleman refused: Leper resolved to be even with him, so -goes to the hay-loft where the groom slept, and takes his -stockings, breeches and jacket, sews them altogether, and stuffs -them full of hay, makes a head, puts a rope about the neck, -and hangs it on a tree opposite to the Laird’s window, then -goes to the Laird and tells him that his groom had hanged -himself, and that if he would open his window, he would see -him hanging; the laird struck with astonishment knew not -what to do; Leper advises him to bury him privately, the -Laird said, he had not a servant he could trust, so begged of -Leper to do it, Leper refuses, till the Laird promised him -a load of meal: then Leper pulls all the hay out of the -groom’s clothes, goes and gets his load of meal and sends it -to Glasgow, then goes to the groom, and says hastily, lad, -thy master is wanting thee; so the lad in a haste runs to see -what his master wanted, the Laird no sooner saw him opening -the door, than he cry’d out, Avoid thee Satan, avoid thee -Satan; the lad says, What’s the matter, Sir? What’s the mat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>ter? -Did not you hang yourself this morning? Lord forbid! -said the lad: the laird says, If thou be an earthly creature, -take that tankard and drink; which he did: Then says -he to his Master, Leper called me up and said, you wanted me -in all haste: Ho, ho, says the Laird, I find out the story now, -If I had Leper I would run my sword through him: But Leper -before that was away for Glasgow with his meal.</p> - -<p>Leper was in use to give his lads their Sunday’s supper, -which obliged him to stay from the Kirk in the afternoon, he -having neither wife nor servant-maid; so on Sunday afternoon, -as he was at home cooking his pot, John Muckle-cheeks and -James Puff-and-Blaw, two Civileers, having more zeal than -knowledge, came upon him and said, What’s the matter Sir, -you go not to the kirk? Leper replied, I am reading my -book, and cooking my pot, which I think is the work of -necessity. Then says the one to the other, Don’t answer the -graceless fellow, we’ll make him appear before his betters, so -they took the kail-pot and puts a staff thro’ the bowls, and -bears it to the Clerk’s chamber.<a id="FNanchor_108" href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a> Leper who was never at a -loss for invention, goes to the Principal of the College his -house, no body being at home but a lass roasting a leg of -mutton; Leper says, My dear, will you go and bring a pint of -ale, and I’ll turn the spit ’till you come back, the lass was no -sooner gone, than he runs away with the leg of mutton, which -served his lads and him for their supper. When the Principal -came home, he was neither to bin nor ha’d, he was so -angry; so on Monday he goes and makes complaint to the -Lord Provost, who sends two officers for Leper, who came -immediately. My Lord asked him, How he dared to take -away the Principal’s mutton? Leper replied. How came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -your Civileers to take away my kail-pot? I am sure, there is -less sin in making a pot-full of kail, than roasting a leg of -mutton, Law-makers should not be law-breakers, so I demand -justice on the Civileers; the Provost asked him, what justice -he would have? says he, Make them carry the pot back -again; as for the Principal, a leg of mutton won’t make him -and me fall out: so they were forced to carry the pot back, -and Leper caused the boys to huzza after them to their disgrace.</p> - -<p>There was a Barber which always plagued Leper, calling -him a Prick-the-Louse; Leper resolved to be even with him, so -he goes and buys three sheep-heads, and sends for the Barber -and told him, that there were three Southland gentlemen come -to his house, who wanted to be shaved, and he assured him he -would receive sixpence for each one of them, this good news -made the shaver send for a dram; Leper was still praising -them for quiet good natured gentlemen, so Leper takes him -to the bed where the sheep-heads lay covered, and desired him -to waken them, for they would not be angry, or say an ill -word to him, the Barber lifts the covering and sees the sheep-heads, -runs out cursing and swearing, and Leper crying after -him, Sheep-head Barber.</p> - -<p>The Barber resolved to be revenged on Leper, so when he -was shaving Mess John, he tells him that Leper was the -drunkenest fellow in the parish; so Mess John warns him to -the session, Leper comes and says, What do you want with -me, Sir? Come away Leper, says Mess John, I hear a bad -report of you; Me, Sir! I am sure they were not my friends -that told you that. Indeed, I am informed you are a great -drunkard; I a drunkard! you have not a soberer man in -your parish: Stay Sir, I’ll tell you how I lead my life: In the -morning I take a choppin of ale, and a bit of bread, that I -call my morning: for breakfast I generally take a herring and -a choppin of ale, for I cannot sup brose like my lads; the -herring makes me dry, so at eleven hours I take a pint; at -dinner another pint; at four afternoon my comrades and I -join, sometimes we are a pint and sometimes three choppins;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -at supper I take a bite of bread and cheese and a pint, and so -I go to bed: Mess John says, It’s extravagant Sir, it’s excessive -drinking, I allow you the one half of it for a quarter of a -year; says Leper, I’ll try it, Sir, and come back and tell you. -At the end of the quarter he draws out his account, and goes -to Mess John, who was sitting with his elders in the session-house, -and says, Sir, I have a demand on you: On me, Sir! -Yes, on you, Sir; Don’t you remember you allowed me so -much drink for a quarter of a year, and I want the money; -Am I to pay your reckoning, Sir? You allowed it, and if you -won’t pay it, I’ll take you before the Provost: The Elders advised -him to pay it or he would be affronted: so Leper got -the money: When he was at the door, he says, Sir, will ye -stand another quarter? Get away, says Mess John, and don’t -trouble me. Leper says, I’m sure you may, for I was always -two-pence to your penny.</p> - -<p class="p4 pfs80">THE END OF THE SECOND PART.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_GRAND_SOLEMNITY"><em>THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE -TAYLOR’S FUNERAL.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The edition here followed was published in the year 1816, without any mention -of the place of issue. It contains also the two parts of <em>Leper the Taylor</em>. The -full title is:—‘Fun upon Fun, or, the Comical Merry Tricks of Leper the Taylor. -In two Parts. To which are added, The Grand Solemnity of the Taylor’s -Funeral, who lay Nine Nights on his own Shop-Board, together with his Last -Will.’ It has been collated with an edition published in 1820, and with another, -apparently of English origin, without date. This chap-book, as has been explained -in the Introduction, Vol. I., p. 48, is believed to be the third part of -<cite>Leper the Taylor</cite>; and M‘Vean has given his sanction to the conjecture by entering -it in his list of <cite>Opera Dugaldi</cite>. Upon a close study of the work, however, -and after a careful comparison of it with the two parts of <cite>Leper the Taylor</cite>, the -editor cannot avoid the suspicion that what appears in the following pages is not -the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">bona-fide</i> work of Dugald Graham. That suspicion is founded not only upon -the almost entire absence of Scotticisms, but also upon the mention of some customs -which were certainly not common in Scotland, such, for instance, as the -presentation of a sprig of rosemary to each person at a funeral, and the corpse -arrest. These were more prevalent in England. While that is so, the fact that -the work forms a quite consistent conclusion to the other two parts, and that -Dugald did not always run in the same groove, prevents the editor from pressing -this suspicion to an extreme; and he contents himself with marking the authorship -as doubtful.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">THE GRAND SOLEMNITY OF THE TAYLOR’S FUNERAL.</p> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Leper<a id="FNanchor_109" href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> in his life-time desired, That all those who came to -attend his funeral, might be handsomely entertained with a -half-penny-roll, and a pint of ale;<a id="FNanchor_110" href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> in memory of the many -breakfasts he had made in his life-time: And furthermore -desired, That those who were his former<a id="FNanchor_111" href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> relations and chief -mourners, instead of a mourning ring, might be presented with -a Taylor’s Thimble, in memory of his own trade, and round -the rim to have this motto engraved:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Be sure you Feed Hell.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Round the room hung divers remnants of black-cloth, of the -Taylor’s own cabbaging, for he was very honest that way, and -never cabbaged but a quarter<a id="FNanchor_112" href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> out of a yard. At the four corners -of the room stood four woolen-drapers, lamenting the loss -of so good a customer, with each of them a white wand in his -hand, just a yard long and a parchment label hanging on their -shoulders, with this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>The Taylor has finished his work,</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>And now he is gone to receive his wages.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At the head of the Taylor’s coffin, stood the goose triumphant, -the cabbage blazoned, and the cucumber argent. On -the lid of his coffin was engraven, on a brass plate, this applicable -motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Hell is beneath me.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p> - -<p>At the foot of the coffin was the sheers pendent, the bodkin -rampant, and the thimble enclosed in three ermins.</p> - -<p>When the Corpse was conveyed down stairs, each person -was served decently round with a leaf of red cabbage, instead -of a sprig of rosemary. Then the Corpse was hoisted on the -shoulders of six piece-brokers, having each of them this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>The Taylor steals, we buy.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The pall was supported by those who sold stay-tape, buckram, -and canvas.</p> - -<p>The Corpse was followed down Cloth-fair by thirty-six -master-taylors, each having a yard in his right-hand, with a -parchment streamer at the end of it, with this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>We Taylors by our art and trade</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Do often mend what God hath made.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Next followed twenty-four<a id="FNanchor_113" href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a> woolen-drapers, two-by-two, -bearing on their breasts this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>We deal in wool, but can’t forbear</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>To deal, alas! some times in hair.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Then followed the like number of button-makers, wringing -their hands with this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Man’s but a Button, by my soul!</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>The very Grave’s a Button-hole.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After these, followed a vast number of city ricketty hopper-arsed -beaux, who had been padded up, and made into a complete -gentlemen, by the deceased limb-trimmer, drying their -watery eyes, with cambrick hankerchiefs, and having this -motto engraved on their watch cases:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>He’s gone who made us human shapes,</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>And now we must again turn apes.</em></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>But to conclude the procession: Last of all, followed a -numerous croud of journeymen taylors, who were all slip-shoed, -their stockings about their heels, their hats off, a skein<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -of thread hung carelessly about their necks; and their shirt -collars were open, that they might have liberty to disturb their -bosom friends. On their left sleeve was a cushion, whereon -stuck abundance of Spanish and Whitchapel needles. The -tails of their wigs were matted like horses’ manes, just as if -they had come off the shop-board from work. On their left -shoulders each had a long strip of parchment, whereon was -written this motto:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>The lice bite us, ’tis not deny’d, </em> }</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>We bite our masters when employ’d;</em> }</div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>And they bite all the world beside. </em> }</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>At the bottom of Cloth-fair, the Corpse was arrested at the -suit of an old herb-woman for elevenpence halfpenny,<a id="FNanchor_114" href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a> which -had been due a long time to the hag, for cabbages and cucumbers, -which the deceased had in his life-time: However the -journeymen-taylors manfully released the Corpse,<a id="FNanchor_115" href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> and afterwards -marched on in ample procession to the house of one -Ned Kemp, an honest piece-broker, where there was a spacious -grave dug, between a large cabbage and a cucumber plant.</p> - -<p>The FUNERAL SERMON was preached by Obadiah -Backstitch, and the words of the text were these:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>A remnant of all shall be saved.</em><a id="FNanchor_116" href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>After which, the journeymen taylors were admitted into -the house,<a id="FNanchor_117" href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a> and each of them served with a halfpenny-roll, and -a pint of ale, and so went weeping home, for the loss of so -good a master.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span></p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="tgs-I"> -<p class="center lht"><span class="fs80 lsp2">THE</span><br /> -TAYLOR’S LAST WILL.</p> -</div> - -<p>I will and bequeath unto Simon Whipstitch,<a id="FNanchor_118" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> my needle -and thimble; unto Peter Niggle, my sheers and bodkin; and -unto Mrs. Mary Laycock<a id="FNanchor_118a" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a> is my Pincushion, stuck full of -needles and pins, to which I sewed a watch-chain, key, and -seal with which I used to strut about like a crow in a gutter.<a id="FNanchor_119" href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a></p> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Gae canty book and win a name;</em></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><em>Nae lyrics ev’er shall ding thee:</em></div> - <div class="verse indent0"><em>Hope large esteem, and lasting fame,</em></div> - <div class="verse indent2"><em>For Leper’s name will raise thee.</em><a id="FNanchor_120" href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_HISTORY_OF_HAVEREL_WIVES"><em>THE HISTORY OF HAVEREL WIVES.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The title of the edition reprinted here is:—‘The Folly of Witless Women Displayed; -or, the History of Haverel Wives: Written by Humphray Clinker the -Clashing Wives Clerk. Being a Comical Conference between Maggy and Janet -his two old Aunties. Glasgow: Printed for the Company of Flying Stationers, -in Town and Country, <span class="allsmcap">MDCCLXXXI</span>.’ It has been collated with an undated -edition issued by Morren of Edinburgh, and one published by the Robertsons of -Glasgow in 1807; and also with a reprint by D. Webster & Son, Lothian Street, -Edinburgh. This last named firm, considering the reprinting of old Scottish popular -tales ‘in a more correct and neat form’ than hitherto to be a desideratum, -issued this chap-book, along with <cite>Janet Clinker’s Oration</cite>, as the first number -of what they called the ‘Caledonian Classics of the Common People.’ <cite>John -Cheap</cite> was announced as the second number. It should be stated that the 1781 -edition here followed is exceptional in respect that the <cite>History of the Haverel -Wives</cite> is given as a separate and distinct publication. It is an 8 pp. 12mo. In -all the other editions that have come under the editor’s notice this chap-book -and <cite>Janet Clinker’s Oration</cite> are issued together.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">THE HISTORY OF HAVEREL WIVES, &c.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">It is a certain old saying, That where women are conveen’d -in crouds there can be but little silence; and some have -acknowledged that it was a great bondage for them to hold -their peace in the church: and where there is much talk by -ignorant speakers, it is diverting for persons of understanding -to hear them. Therefore we have furnished the public with a -small collection of old wives noted sayings and wonders, which -they relate happened in their own time, also what has been -told them by their forefathers.</p> - -<p>Two old wives (Maggy, and Janet) at their rocks, began -their cracks as follows:</p> - -<p>Janet. A dear Maggy, an how auld will ye be now, o’ it’s -lang since I kend you.</p> - -<p>Maggy. Indeed Janet that’s what nae body kens, for my -father and mither had sae mony o’ us, they ne’er counted how -auld ane o’ us was, they minded ay wha o’ us was born first, -and wha was neist ane anither, and that was a’ that e’er we -sought to ken about it; but I ha’e mind o’ the mirk Munonday.<a id="FNanchor_121" href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a></p> - -<p>Jan. Hout, tout, woman, the mirk Munonday, I hae mind -since there was nae Munondays at a’, and the Sabbath days -was nae com’d in fashion, there was a day they ca’d Sunday -came anes o’ the ouk for it, we kend ay whan it came, for my -father cow’d ay his beard whan the bell rang, and then every -body ran to the kirk it had ony thing ado, an it were to buy -saut or shune, for the chapman chiels set up a’ their creims at -the kirk-door, an the lasses wad a gotten keeking glasses, red -snudes, needles, prins, elshin irons, gemlets, brown bread and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -black saep to buy, forby sweety wives things, and rattless for -restless little anes; the men wad a bought pints o’ ale, an a -gotten a whang o’ gude cheese to chow a’ the time a drinking -o’t, hout, tout ay, they were braw markets on the Sundays i’ -the time o’ Paepery,<a id="FNanchor_122" href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> we had nae ministers than but priests, -Mess Johns, Black Friers, and White Friers, Monks, Abbots, -and Bishops, they had nae wives, yet the best o’ them wad a -spoken baudy language, and a kiss’d the lasses, fikle fyking -bodies they ware, unko ill to please, they wad a baith curs’d -fouk and bless’d them, just as ye pay’d them; a deed they -were unco greedy o’ the penny, and pray’d ay to the dead -fouk, and gard the living pay them for’t, and although they -had play’d the loon wi’ a poor hizey she durst na speak o’t for -her very life, for they cou’d gi’ ony body o’er to the de’il when -they liket: They did not gar fouks learn to read and pray -like our new ministers, but thump on your breast, strake your -fingers o’er aboon your nose, tell your beads and rin bare-fit -thro’ amang hard stanes, and cauld sna’.</p> - -<p>Mag. A hech woman, an wad they a had carnal dealings -wi’ the women, and they sae good and haly.</p> - -<p>Jan. Hout ye daft woman, do ye think their goodness -gelded them tho’ they had nae wives; there was a great sort -o’ them it they ca’d cardonels, that ay when twa young bodies -was married they bute to hae the first night o’ the bride.<a id="FNanchor_123" href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p> - -<p>Mag. A wae worth them filthy hureing dogs, if I wadna’ a -libbet them mysel, I wonder that the gentle fouks and lairds -lote them do the like o’ that.</p> - -<p>Jan. A dear woman the gentle fouks and the lairds keepet -ay in wi’ them, for they said they had the command o’ the -de’il and the dead fouk, and the gentles durst na cast out wi’ -them, for they got a’ their sins pardon’d for the less siller.</p> - -<p>Mag. A dear woman that was unko like, the de’il wad get -nae body then but the poor fouk, and them that had nae siller.</p> - -<p>Jan. A well a wat that was true, for an they pay’d the -priest well, the de’il durst na middle wi’ them.</p> - -<p>Mag. A wow woman, a what’s come o’ them a’ now, am -sure the like o’ thae fouks it had sae meikle power, needed -neither die nor yet be sick: they wad live a’ their days.</p> - -<p>Jan. A wat well did they, for the maist o’ them is dead -and rotten, and the rest o’ them gade awa’ to Italy, where the -auld Pape their father, the de’il, the witches, brownies and -faries dwal,<a id="FNanchor_124" href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> and then we gat anither sort o’ gospel fouks it -they ca’d curits,<a id="FNanchor_125" href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> fine sort o’ dainty honest foulks they war, -but gay and greedy, they did na’ like sculdudery wark, but -said na meikle against it, for a hantle o’ bits a callans wad a -gotten twa or three bastards before they wad a gotten breeks; -they beit to hae their tithes of every thing that grew, mony a -time my father wist they wad take the tithes of his hemp too, -an it were to hang themsels, they were ay warst whare a poor -man or wife died, altho’ they left weans fatherless and mitherless, -a deed they wad a sent their bellman, and wi’ his lang -prelatic fingers he wad a harled the upper pair o’ blankets aff<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -o’ the poor things bed, for some rent that they gard fouks pay -for dying, a sae did they e’en, and yet they keepit a hantle o’ -bra haly days, and days o’ meikle meat, Fastrens-e’en and -Yule days, when we gat our wames fou o’ fat brose, and a sippet -Yule sowens till our sarks had been like to rive, and after -that a eaten roasted cheese and white puddings well spiced, -O bra times for the guts, well I wat every body might live -than that had ony thing to live on.</p> - -<p>Mag. But dear Janet ye’er bra an lang o’ the memory, do -ye mind o’ the waefu blast, when the foul thief was raging in -the air, and the de’il dang doun a’ the kail yard dykes cutted -the corn stacks, tirr’d the houses and blew giddy Wille’s wig -in the wall, they said it was some young minister it had rais’d -the de’il, and for want o’ a cock, a cat, or some unkirsen’d -creature to gi’ him, they could na’ get laid again, an he brake -the bridle slipped his head an ran awa frae them.<a id="FNanchor_126" href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a></p> - -<p>Jan. A deed woman I heard tell o’ that, and how wood -Willie M‘Neel met him on the staps in the mids o’ the water, -an shot him o’er, and thought to drown him, but he gade doun -the water like a meikle branded bill roaring, a’ burning fire; -but I hae mind the first time it the de’il came to this kintrey -was on a Sunday, I was a wi’ bit gaun lassie my father and a’ -the men fouk was at the kirk, the ware twa o’ them, a humeld -ane an a horn’d ane, a goodman de’il, and a goodwife de’il as -we took them to be, we ran a’ into the house, and my mither -barr’d the door and hunted the dogs at the byre hole, thinking -the de’il wou’d rin frae the dogs, but, na, na, they got up on -their tae end like twa auld men, they were a rugh lang hair -like a pyet horse, wi’ lang bairds aneath their chin, and the -meikle horn’d de’il box’d the dogs in at the hole agen, we ran -a’ ben the house and grat, but our Jock wha wis a little -gabby gaun laddock, cry’d ay, mither, mither, what is the -de’il seeking here, he’ll be wanting to tak a’ the auld wives an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -cats to mak witches o’ them,<a id="FNanchor_127" href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> I true whan my gran mither -heard that, she gat up and ran ben to the spence, and crap in -the bear meal barrel to hide hersel frae the de’il, and curr’d -there ’till the kirk skaild, a deed she was sae fear’d, she made -her burn in the barrel; and what was’t true ye after a’ but a -tupe and a ewe of the highland gaits, it the laird had gotten to -gie the lady milk, but mony a day we leugh at the twa de’ils.</p> - -<p>Mag. But dear woman, what an a body is that de’il, it -ev’ry body is sae fear’d for him, is’t na him they ca’ auld nick, -what fore do they ca’ him auld nick?</p> - -<p>Jan. A dead woman I dinna ken what like a body he is, -but they say he’s a’ black, and they ca’ him auld nick, because -he’s aulder nor Adam, and Adam was the first man in the -warld, and they say the de’il will never die, nor yet be sick, -nor yet tak sair een.</p> - -<p>Mag. A wow Janet but ye’re a witty creature, but can ye -tell me what way the blackamoors is made, some fouk says -they’re a’ dipped in cats blood and burnt bear strae, but I’m -ay thinking the litster doucks them in amang the broe that -they lit the black claith wi’, and then sells them to the lairds -and gentle folks to flee their bairns wi’, or dis the gentles eat -them when they’re dead think ye.<a id="FNanchor_128" href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a></p> - -<p>Jan. Hout awa daft creature, the blackamoors is fouk just -like oursel, but only they hae a black skin on them, did ye -never see black sheep and white sheep, black horse and white -horse, ye think they’re a’ de’ils because the de’il’s black: I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -thought mysel lang syne, they were made for the penny, and -sell’d the dearer o’ the black skin.</p> - -<p>Mag. But Janet did ye ever see the de’il, I wad fain ken -what like he is, some says he’s like a bill, a bear or an auld beggar -man.</p> - -<p>Jan. Indeed I never saw sae muckle as the de’il a’ my -days, but I’ve heard the ministers flyting and misca’ing him, -and whan they said a’ that they cou’d say o’ him, they ca’d -him an ill spirit, and a great liar, mony a ane has war names -than a’ that yet.<a id="FNanchor_129" href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a></p> - -<p>Mag. But do you think there is ony de’ils but ane, every -body’s speaking an crying on him, ane couldna answer them a’.</p> - -<p>Jan. A deed they say there’s black anes and white anes o’ -them, humel anes, and horn’d anes, the very witches is haf -de’ils whan they’re living, and hail de’ils when they’re dead; -the brownies is haf dogs haf de’ils, a’ rugh but the mouth, seeks -na claise, ae man’s meat ’ill sair them, and they’ll work ten -mens work in ae night, forby hob-goblins fairies and elfs, that -shoots fouks beasts to dead, an no a hole to be seen in the -skin o’ them;<a id="FNanchor_130" href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> hard na ye tell o’ the twa Highland wives, how -the tane cry’d oh, on, oh on, Shenet my cows shot, houp, poup, -co’ she, an wha shot her, a de’d it was the de’il, oh hough, oh -hough, Shenet we’ll a’ be kill’d whan the de’il has gotten a gun.</p> - -<p>Mag. A sweet be wi’ us woman, is nit an unco thing they -dinna a’ flee on the minister, whan he flytes and misca’s them -sae, do ye think they hear him?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span></p> - -<p>Jan. A doubtless but they hear and sees too, they’re -neither blind nor bleer-ey’d, but ay whan ye speak o’ them, -name the day cry it’s wansday thro’ a’ the warld and there’s -nae fear o’ you.<a id="FNanchor_131" href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></p> - -<p>Mag. But what de ye think o’ our minister, is he a good -man think ye?</p> - -<p>Jan. Indeed I think he’s a gay gabby body, but he has twa -fauts, and his wife has three, he’s unko greedy o’ siller, and he’s -ay preaching down pride, and up charity, and yet he’s that fou -o’ pride himsel, that he has gotten a glass window on ev’ry -side o’ his nose, and his een is as clear as twa clocks to luk -to, he has twa gigglet gilliegaukies o’ dochters, comes into the -kirk wi’ their cobletehow mutches frizel’d up as braid’s their -hips, and clear things like starns about their necks, and at ev’ry -lug a walloping white thing hanging like a snotter at a bubbly -wean’s nose, syne about their necks, a bit thin claith like a -mouse web and their twa bits o’ paps playing ay niddity nod, -shining through it like twa yearning bags, shame fa’ them and -their fligmagaries baith, for I get nae good o’ the preaching -looking at them; and syne a’ the dirty sherney hought hizies -in the parish maun hae the like or lang gae; but an I ware to -preach, sic pride sudna hae baith peace and property in my -parish, I wou’d point out my very finger to them in the kirk, -and name them baith name and sirname, and say there sits -sherney Meg o’ the mill, stumpy May o’ the moss, sniveling -Kate wi’ her hodle-makenster coat, they came into the kirk -bobbing their hin quarters like three water wag tails, shaking -their heads like a hunder pund horse, smacking their lips and -hauding their mouth like May puddocks; and what shall I -compare them to, but painted Jezebels; the whore of Babylon -or Rachel the harlot, with a’ their gaudy decoying colours, -high taps, and spread glittering tails, whan they come sailing -into the house of prayer, as it were a house o’ dancing and -debaushery, go, go, ye painted pisweips to fairs and weddings,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -and there display your proud banners of pride which ye are -puffed up with, it is the very spirit o’ the devil, and unbecoming -o’ the house o’ prayer: But if these gillygaukies shou’d come -into the kirk with their heels up and their heads down, our -mess John is become like ane o’ the dogs of Egypt, he’ll no -move his tongue, and I believe he darna for Clipock his wife; -wha’s element is to banter a’ the poor beggars from her door, -nane can stand her but the tinkler wives, and she’s ay whinging -about charity, but it’s to hersel, she widna pity the cripple -on the blind’s back, but bids gae hame to their ain parish -filthy beggar dirt,<a id="FNanchor_132" href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a> she casts a’ her cauld paritch and kail to -the cocks and hens, kicks the poor colly dogs out at the door, -ca’s them filthy useless brutes, because they canna lay eggs, -like hens eggs, she’s ay flyting on her lasses, hungers her -servant lad, eats cocks and hens hersel, and gars the poor -minister eat saut herrin.</p> - -<p>Mag. A well I wat then I wish he may not turn a drucken -body, for herring maks fouk ay dry, but well I wat Janet ye -hae tell’d their faults on baith the sides, an I hae ae great faut -to our minister yet, and tho’ I ware dead and rotten the night -afore the morn I’ll neither forgi’ him nor yet forget him, a -what he said to me, that I sud be ta’en and douked for offerin -to marry agen, a woman at my age; an auld man, said he, -ought to marry some kindly body to keep him clean in his -auld age, but an auld woman (said he) that can wash a dud -sark to themsels needs nae men; and now no Janet, I am no -to ca’ very auld although I be stricken in years, I dinna ken -my ain age, being kirsen’d in the time o’ Paepery;<a id="FNanchor_133" href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> I hae the -penny, tho’ bair o’ flesh and blood, has four good teeth before -and well willin gums in the backside, I canna gang far without -a staff, an yet I wad as fain be married as whan I was fifteen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span> -year auld, O woman! but a man in the bed is an usefu body, -they hae a sweet breath, and natural heat to keep a body -warm; but an our minister ware an auld wife, he wad ken -what the want of a bit man is as well as I, and a’ this began -about wanton Wat the town taylor that promis’d to tak me -again sic a time or tell me what for, mony a pickle well butter’d -kail bleds I gi’d him, held out frae my ain wame and -stappit in a his, he said he wad do as muckle to me again, but -he has na don’t fause loun carle it he was, cheated me out o’ -sax pund and twa sarks and then gar’d me mak a fool o’ mysel -whan the laird’s duket<a id="FNanchor_134" href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> was biggit and made a’ white to gar -the dows come, he said an my window ware as white they wad -come to me too, and I like a poor fool took a basin fu’ o’ good -bear meal and made it drammock and whitened a my window -wi’t, but the never a dow came near hand me the mair o’t, but -a’ the town dogs came pyking and licking it at night and day, -I was plagued wi’ them till a gude shure came and wisht awa -agen, the laird an every body came to look and laugh at it.<a id="FNanchor_135" href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a></p> - -<p>Jan. But Maggy an ye be a mind to marry ye maun snod -yoursel better up, cast awa your staff, singe your whiskers wi’ a -candle or fir stick, stand straight up like a rash kekle, and -looky cantylike whan the carles is gaun by, tak a mouthfu’ o’ -good meat, and a drap dram in the mornin will keep the dirt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -aff your face and raise the red in your cheek, ye see the hens -turns ay red lugget or they begin to lay: a body that wants a -bit man will use mony a shift for ane, I ken how I did mysel -whan I was fourteen lang year a widow, and thought never -to gotten ane, I feed our John, whan he was a saft silly docus -callan to ca’ the pleugh, and keepit him three years till he -turn’d a wally whincer and fain wad I had him, but he widna -speak o’t to me, but ae day we was in the house our lane, an -I ties a gude hard stane knot on the strings o’ my toy beneath -my chin, an fykes wi’t awee, then says, O Johnny my man -look an ye can louse this knot wi’ your teeth, he lays a hand on -every shouther and louses the knot, and I gripes him by the -twa lugs and gies him a kiss, and saes poor man Johnny thou -has a sweet breath, thou needsna want a bit kiss o’ me whan -thou likes lad, I true that culli’d him hither ay the mair, ha, -ha, thou has nae art woman.</p> - -<p>Enters Humphray Clinker, hearing a’ that past, perswades -his aunt Maggy that no man would marry such as her, for she -looked like a picture of death riding upon hunger’s back, a -rickle of banes row’d up in a runkly skin, had wasted her body -with water lythocks into a scrufe of skin and bane for want of -teeth to chow bread for the nourishment of her body, and that -he was com’d on purpose to write her testament or latter will, -that it was a lightness in her brain before death; therefore -she ought to go to bed and die directly,<a id="FNanchor_136" href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> which she accordingly -did<a id="FNanchor_137" href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> by taking thought of what was said to her, the priest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -being sent for came and discoursed with her, but still she -keeping her purse in her hand, which he observed, desired -she would give it to her friends or she died, to which she -would answer by her sooth that she wad not, for she wad -tak it wi’ her, for she had heard every body say they were the -better o’ the penny wi’ them, gang whare they like, and so -died supposed to be an hundred and six years old.</p> - -<p>Humphray’s aunt Janet is yet alive an has made an oration -in praise of the old women, and on the pride of the young.</p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="JANET_CLINKERS_ORATION"><em>JANET CLINKER’S ORATION.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[<cite>Janet Clinker’s Oration</cite> is commonly found printed along with <cite>The History of -Haverel Wives</cite>, and in the chap-book from which the text in the following -pages are taken, this is the case. The full title in this case is:—‘An Oration on -the Virtues of the Old Women, and the Pride of the Young: with a Direction for -Young Men, what sort of Women to take, and for Women what sort of Men to -Marry. Dictated by Janet Clinker, and written by Humphrey Clinker, the Clashing -Wives’ Clerk. Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1807.’ -It has been collated with the editions mentioned in the Introduction to these -volumes: together with the reprint published in 1820 by Webster & Son, Edinburgh, -referred to in the prefatory note to the <cite>History of the Haverel Wives</cite>.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">AN ORATION ON -THE VIRTUES OF THE OLD WOMEN, AND THE -PRIDE OF THE YOUNG.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">The madness of this unmuzzled age has driven me to mountains -of thoughts, and a continual meditation: It is enough to -make an auld wife rin red-wood, and drive a body beyond -the halter’s-end of ill-nature, to see what I see, and here what -I hear: Therefore the hinges of my anger are broke, and the -bands of my good and mild nature are burst in two, the door -of civility is laid quite open, plain speech and mild admonition -is of none effect; nothing must be used now but thunder-bolts -of reproach tartly trimm’d up in a tantalizing stile, roughly -redd up and manufactured thro’ an auld Matron’s mouth, who -is indeed but frail in the teeth, but will squeeze surprizingly -with her auld gums, until her very chaft-blades crack in the -crushing of your vice.</p> - -<p>I shall branch out my discourse into four heads.</p> - -<p>First, What I have seen, and been witness to.</p> - -<p>Secondly, What I now see, and am witness to.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, What I have heard, does hear, and cannot help; I -mean the difference between the old women and the young.</p> - -<p>Fourthly, Conclude with an advice to young men and young -women, how to avoid the buying of Janet Juniper’s stinking -butter,<a id="FNanchor_138" href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> which will have a rotten rift on their stomach as -long as they live.<a id="FNanchor_139" href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a></p> - -<p>First, The first thing then, I see and observe is, that a -wheen daft giddy-headed, cock-nosed, juniper nebbed mothers, -bring up a wheen sky-racket dancing daughters, a’ bred up to be -ladies, without so much as the breadth of their lufe of land, it’s -an admiration to me, whare the lairds are a’ to come frae that’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -to be coupled to them; work, na, na, my bairn manna work, -she’s to be a lady, they ca’ her Miss, I maun hae her lugs -bor’d says auld Numps the mither; thus the poor pet is -brought up like a mitherless lamb, or a parrot in a cage; they -learn naething but prick and sew, and fling their feet when the -fidle plays, so they become a parcel of yellow-faced female-taylors, -unequal matches for countrymen, Flanders-babbies, -brought up in a box, and must be carried in a basket; knows -nothing but pinching-poverty, hunger and pride; can neither -milk kye, muck a byre, card, spin, nor yet keep a cow from a -corn-rigg; the most of such are as blind penny-worths, as -buying pigs in pocks, and ought only to be matched with -Tacket-makers, Tree-trimmers, and Male-taylors, that they -may be male and female agreeable in trade, since their piper -fac’d fingers are not for hard labour; yet they might also pass -on a pinch for a black Sutor’s wife, for the stitching of white -seams round the mouth of a lady’s shoe; or, with Barbers or -Bakers they might be buckled, because of their muslin-mouth -and pinch-beck speeches, when barm is scant, they can blow -up their bread with fair wind, and when the razor is rough, -can trim their chafts with a fair tale, oil their peruke with their -white lips, and powder the beau’s pow with a French-puff; -they are well versed in all the science of flattery, musical tunes, -horn-pipes, and country-dances, though perfect in none but -the reel of Gamon.</p> - -<p>Yet these are they the fickle farmer fixes his fancy upon; a -bundle of clouts, a skeleton of bones, Maggy and the Much, -like twa fir-sticks and a pickle tow, neither for his plate nor -his plow; very unproper plenishing, neither for his profit nor -her pleasure, to plout her hands through Hawkey’s<a id="FNanchor_140" href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> caff-cog, -is a hateful hardship for Mammy’s Pet, and will hack a’ her -hands. All this I have seen and heard, and been witness to; -but my pen being a goose-quill, cannot expose their names -nor places of abode, but warns the working-men out of their -way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p> - -<p>Secondly, I see another sort, who can work, and maun work -till they be married, and become mistresses themselves; but -as the young man receives them, the thrift leaves them; before -that, they wrought as for a wager, they span as for a premium, -busked as for a brag, scour’d their din skins as a wauker does -worsted blankets, kept as mim in the mouth as a minister’s -wife, comely as Diana, chaste as Susanna, yet the whole of -their toil is the trimming of their rigging, though their hulls -be everlastingly in a leaking condition; their backs and their -bellies are box’d about with the fins of a big fish,<a id="FNanchor_141" href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> six petticoats, -a gown and apron, besides a side sark down to the -ankle-banes; ah! what monstrous rags are here, what a cloth -is consumed for a covering to one pair of buttocks! I leave -it to the judgement of any ten taylors in town, if 30 pairs of -mens’ breeches may not be cut, from a little above the easing -of Bessy’s bum, and this makes her a motherly-like woman, as -sturdy a fabric as ever strade to market or mill.</p> - -<p>But when she’s married she turns a madam, her mistress did -not work much, and why should she! Her mother tell’d ay -she wad be a lady, but cou’d never show where her lands lay; -but when money is all spent, credit broken, and conduct out -of keeping, a wheen babling bubly bairns, crying piece minny, -parich minny, the witless waster<a id="FNanchor_142" href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> is at her wit’s-end. Work -now or want, and do not say that the world has war’d you; -but Lofty-Nodle, your giddy-headed-mother has led you -astray, by learning you to be a lady, before ye was fit to be a -servant-lass, by teaching you laziness instead of hard labour, -by giving you such a high conceit of yourself, that no body -thinks any thing of you now, and you may judge yourself to -be one of those, that wise people call Littleworth; but after -all, my Dear Dirty-face, when you begin the warld again, be -perfectly rich before you be gentle, work hard for what you -gain, and you’ll ken better how to guide it, for pride is an unperfect -fortune, and a ludicrous life will not last long.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span></p> - -<p>Another sort I see, who has got more silver than sense, more -gold than good nature, more muslins and means than good -manners, tho’ a sack can hold their siller, six houses and a half -cannot contain their ambitious desires. Fortunatus’s wonderful -purse<a id="FNanchor_143" href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> would fail in fetching the fourth part of their -worldly wants, and the children imitate their mothers, chattering -like hungry cranes, crying still I want, I want, ever craving, -willfully wanting, till all be brought to a doleful dish of -desolation, and with cleanness of teeth, a full breast, an empty -belly, big pockets without pence, pinching penury perfect -poverty, drouth, hunger, want of money, and friends both, old -age, dim eyes, feeble joints, without shoes or clothes, the real -fruits of a bad marriage, which brings thoughtless Fops to -both faith and repentance in one day.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, Another thing I see, hear, and cannot help, is the -breeding of bairns, and bringing them up like bill-stirks, they -gie them walth o’ meat, but nae manners: but whan I was a -bairn, if I didna bend to obedience, I ken mysel what I gat -which learned me what to gie mine again; if they had tell’d -me tuts, or prute-no, I laid them o’er my knee, and a com’d -crack for crack o’er their hurdies, like a knock bleaching a -harn-web, till the red wats stood on their hips, this brought -obedience into my house, and banished dods and ill-nature out -at the door; I dang the de’il out o’ them, and dadded them -like a wet dish-clout till they did my bidding: But now the -bairns are brought up to spit fire in their mither’s face, and cast -dirt at their auld daddies: How can they be good who never -saw a sample of it; or reverence old age, who practised no -precepts in their youth? How can they love their parents, -who gave them black poison instead of good principles? Who -shewed them no good, nor taught them no duties! No marvel -such children despise old age, and reverence their parents as -an old horse does his father.</p> - -<p>Fourthly, The last prevailing evil which I see, all men may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -hear, but none strive to help,<a id="FNanchor_144" href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a> the banishment of that noble -holy-day called the Sabbath, which has been blasted by a -whirl-wind from the south; I am yet alive who saw this -hurricane coming thro’ the walled city<a id="FNanchor_145" href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> near Solway in the -South; it being on a Sunday, and a beautiful sun-shine day -amangst some foul weeks in harvest-weather, which caused the -Lord Mayor of the place to work hard, and put in the whole -fields of wheat harvest, and the priests of that church commended -him therefore: Because the season was backward, -why should not man be disobedient! And this infection is -come here also, surely the loss of this Sabbath-day will be -counted a black Saturday to some; when I walk in the fields, -I know it not but by the stopping of the plow, when in the -city, only by the clossness of a few shop-doors and the sound -of the bells; degenerate ideas of religion indeed! when the -high praise is sounded only by bell-metal, <em>A sounding Brass -and a tinkling Cymbal</em>: Is it not come to pass, the taverns -roar like Ætna’s mouth; children follow their gaming, and old -sinners their stroling about, nothing stopt but coal-carts and -common carriers, the Sabbath lasts no longer than the sermon, -and the sermon is measured by a little sand in a glass; many, -too many frequent the church, seemingly only to show their -antic dress, with heads of a monstruous form, more surprizing -than those described by Aristotle, as for length exceeding that -of an asses’s head, ears and all; and ah! How humbling would -it be, to see their heads struck into such a hideous form, &c.</p> - -<p>They disdain now to ride on pads as of old, or to be hobled -on a horse’s hurdies, but must be hurled behind the tail, safely -seated in a leather conveniency, and there they fly swiftly as in -the chariot of Aminadab.<a id="FNanchor_146" href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p> - -<p>They will not speak the mother language<a id="FNanchor_147" href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> of their native -country, but must have southern oaths, refined like raw-sugar -thro’ the mills of cursing, finely polished, and fairly struck in -the profane mint of London, into a perfect form of flunky-language; -even the very wild Arabs from the mountain-tops, -who have not yet got English to profane his Maker’s name, -will cry, <em>Cot, Cot</em>; hateful it is to hear them swear, who cannot -speak. O! strange alteration since the days of old!<a id="FNanchor_148" href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a> the -downful of Popery, and the Prelates’ decay, when reformation -was alive, and religion in taste and fashion; the people during -the sabbath, were all packed up in closets, and their children -kept within doors, when every city appeared like a sanctuary, -nothing to be heard on the streets, but the sound of prayer on -the right-hand, and the melodious sound of psalms on the left.</p> - -<p>Now is the days of counting, scribing, riding of horses, and -the sound of the post-horn come; surely there will be trade -now; and none will miss prosperity when every day is a fair; -I add no more on this head, but every one claim a right to his -own set time, &c.</p> - -<p>Another grievance of the female offenders I cannot omit, -which attacks a man’s fancy, and is the cause of his fall;<a id="FNanchor_149" href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> I -mean Flighters who has gotten a little of the means of Mammon, -more silver than sense, more gold than good nature, -haughtiness for humility, value themselves as a treasure incomprehensible,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -their heads and hearts of Ophir-gold, their -hips of silver, & their whole body as set about with precious -stones, great and many are the congresses of their courtship, -and the solemnizing of their marriage is like the conclusion of -a peace after a bloody and tedious war.<a id="FNanchor_150" href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a></p> - -<p>And what is she after all! yea, her poor penny will never -be exhausted, it must be laid out in lunacy and laziness, she -must have fine teas and the tuther thing: When pregnancy -and the speuing of porich approaches, then she prophecies of -her death; as she hatches life, she embraces laziness; then O -the bed, the bed, nothing like the bed for a bad wife, her body -becomes as par-boil’d,<a id="FNanchor_151" href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a> being so bed-ridden, this rots their -children in the brewing, and buries them in the bringing up; -yea, some mothers are so beastly, as to water the bed and -blame the child therefore; yet such lazy wives live long, and -their children soon die; their far fetched feigned sickness, -soon render the husband to the substance of one sixpence, he -becomes poor and hen-peck’t under such petticoat government.</p> - -<p>But when I Janet was a Janet, and had the judgement of -my own house, my husband was thrice happy, I never held him -down, he was above me day and night, I sat late and raise -early, kept a fu’ house and rough back, when summer came we -minded winter’s cauld, we had peace ay at porich-time, and -harmony through the day; we supp’d our sowens at supper-time -with a seasonable heat, and went to bed good bairns -kent naething but stark love and kindness, we wrought for -riches, and our ages and earthly stores increased alike, we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -hated pride and loved peace, he died with a good name; I let -you ken I live, but not as many do, not so lordly of my brain -as some are of their belly! and was not my life strange by -that now practised? Come help yourselves you hillocat-livers -and avoid it.</p> - -<p>Now after a’, if a poor man want a perfect wife, let him -wale a weel blooded hissie wi’ braid shouders an thick about -the haunches, that has been lang servant in ae house, tho’ -twice or thrice awa’ and ay fied back, that’s weel liked by the -bairns and the bairns’ mither, that’s naeway cankard to the -cats, nor kicks the colly-dogs amang her feet, that wad let a’ -brute-beasts live, but rats, mice, lice, flaes, neets and bugs, that -bites the wee bairns in their cradles, that carefully comb the -young things’ heads, washes their faces, and claps their cheeks, -snites the snotter frae their nose<a id="FNanchor_152" href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a> as they were a’ her ain, that’s -the lass that will mak a good wife; for them that dauts the -young bairns, will ay be kind to auld fouk an they had them.</p> - -<p>And ony hale-hearted halsome hissie, that wants to halter -a good husband, never tak a widow’s ae son, for a’ the wifely -gates in the warld will be in him, for want of a father to teach -him manly actions; neither tak a sour looking sumf wi’ a -muckle mouth, and a wide guts, who will eat like a horse and -soss like a sow, suffer none to sup but himsel, eat your meat -and the bairns baith; when hungry angry, when fu’ full of -pride, ten sacks will not haud his sauce, tho’ a pea-shap wad -haud his siller: But go, tak your chance, and if cheated, channer -not on me, for fashionable fouk flee to fashionable things, -for lust is brutish-blind, and fond love is blear-ey’d. I add no -more, says Janet; so be it, said Humphray the Clerk.</p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_COMICAL_AND_WITTY_JOKES_OF"><em>THE COMICAL AND WITTY JOKES OF -JOHN FALKIRK.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The text here used is from an edition bearing the following matter on the title-page:—‘The -Comical and Witty Jokes of John Falkirk the merry Piper; When -in Courtship to an old Fiddler’s Widow, who wanted all the Teeth. With a Copy -of the Love-Letter he sent her, who is commonly called F—ting Betty.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here’s a Piper on a merry pin,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Selling his words instead of win,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In courtship with an old fiddler’s jigg,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As weather beaten as his wigg;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Swears by his chanter he can win her bread,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though never a tooth be in her head.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Edinburgh: Printed in the Year 1777.’ It has been collated with an undated -edition published by Morren of Edinburgh. On the title of this latter edition the -widow is called ‘Flinging Betty.’ The 1777 edition is an 8 pp. 12mo., containing -only the ‘Jokes’; but in Morren’s Edition the ‘Jokes’ follow the ‘Cariches.’ -The two were generally printed separately, although they are occasionally to be -seen together.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">THE COMICAL AND WITTY JOKES OF -JOHN FALKIRK.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">A certain old reverend priest, being one night at supper in -a gentleman’s house; and for one article having eggs, the -server of the table, as usual laid a cloath on every ones knee, -wherewith to hold their egg in when hot, when supper was -over, the priest looking down between his legs, and seeing the -white cloath thought it was his shirt-tail: and very slyly -stops it into his breeches bite, and bite, which the lady and -her maid observed, but was ashamed to challenge him; so -home he went with the servet in his breeches, and knew -nothing of it till going to bed, when it fell from him, his wife -enquired how he came by it, he could not tell, but was surprized -how he came to have more bulk in his breeches than -formerly, but perceiving the name they sent it back again, the -priest pleaded to be excused own’d himself only a thief -through ignorance.<a id="FNanchor_153" href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a></p> - -<p>An old gentleman and his two sons, being in a company, -his oldest son sitting next him, spoke a word which highly -displeased his father; for which his father gave him a hearty -blow on the side of the head: A well said he, I will not lift -my hand to strick at my parents, but gives his other brother -that sat by him, a blow on the ear, saying give that about by -the way of a drink, till it comes to my father again.</p> - -<p>A sailor being traveling between <em>Edinburgh</em> and <em>Linlithgow</em> -which is twelve long computed miles: and as he was setting -out in the morning about 8 o’clock, he seed a vain like young -spark go running past him, which he never minded, <ins class="corr" id="tn-157" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'but kep-jogging'"> -but kept jogging</ins> on at his own leisure: and as he was going into <em>Linlithgow</em>, -about twelve o’Clock, up comes the young spark, and -asked the sailor, what a Clock it was, why says the sailor, I see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -you have a watch and I have none, what is it? out he pulls -his watch, ho said he, it’s directly twelve, and what do you -think, it was half an hour after ten or I came out of <em>Edinburgh</em>, -I have walked it in an hour and a half; it is pretty well tript, -says the sailor, but pray sir, what man of business are you? -O! said he, I am a watch maker, I was thinking so, said the -sailor, for you have made your watch to answer your feet, for -those feet can’t answer a right watch, and I suppose your -tongue can’t keep time with none of them do you remember -where you went past me this morning about eight o’Clock; O -yes said he, and off he went.</p> - -<p>As two maids was coming from the milking of their cows, -one of them steping over a style, fell and spill’d the whole -peal full of milk from her head O said she, what will I do, what -will I do, O said the other maid, let it go who can help it now, -you can make it up again it is not your maiden-head: My -maiden-head said she, if it were my maiden-head, I would -think nothing of it, many, many a time, I have lost my maiden-head -with great pleasure, and I got it ay again, it came ay -back to its ain place again, but I’ll never gather up my milk -again.</p> - -<p>A sailor being one night in company with a country taylor, -O said the taylor, but your trade is a very dangerous trade, -do you ever pray any? yes said the sailor, when we’re hard -beset we pray to blast one anothers eyes and limbs, if they -wont be nimble and quick, a wow man but that’s a sad trade, -said the taylor, and what trade was your father? why said the -sailor, he was a sailor too, and where did he die, said the taylor? -why he was drowned at sea, and O man! said the taylor are -you not fear’d to go to sea? not I said the sailor: But what -trade was your father? indeed said the taylor, he was a taylor -as well as me, and where did he die? said the sailor, indeed he -died in his bed, says the poor taylor. O then says the sailor, -are not you afraid to go to bed lest you die there too.<a id="FNanchor_154" href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span></p> - -<p>Three merry companions having met on a saturdays night -at an Ale house, (a hatter and a shoemaker, and a taylor,) -where they drunk heartily all that night, and to morrow until -mid day; and their beats was who had the lovingest wife: So -they agreed for a trial of their good nature that every man -should do, whatever his wife bade him do; as soon as ever he -went home, or who did not as she ordered him, was to pay -all the reckoning, which was seven and six-pence, or if all of -them did as their wives bade them: then they were to pay -all alike: so on this agreement they all came away, first to -the hatters house, and in he goes like a madman, dancing and -jumping round the floor, his wife at the very time was taking -of the pot and setting it in the floor, he still dancing about, -now says the wife, ding over the pot with thy madness, so he -gives it a kick, and over it went, and that saved him as he had -done what his wife bad him do. Then away he goes to the -taylors house, and in he goes dancing likewise, but his wife -fell a scolding him. O says he, my dear give me a kiss? kiss -my arse you drunken rogue, said she; then to her he flys and -whips her over in the bed, up with her petty coats and kisses -her arse before them all, and that saved him; then away they -went to the shoe-makers, and in he goes very merry and dancing -about as he saw the other two do: saying come my dear -heart and give me a kiss: go hang yourself you drunken dog -said she, so he must either go and hang himself directly or pay -all the reckoning.</p> - -<p>An honest highlandman not long since, not much acquainted -with the law, fell out with one of his neighbours, and to the -law they went; he employed one advocate, and his opposite -another, and as they were debeating it in court before the -judges, the highlandman being there present, a friend of his -asked him how he thought it would go, or who would win the -day, indeed said the highland man, his law man speaks well, -and my law man speaks well, I think we’ll both win, and the -judges will lose for they speak but a word <ins class="corr" id="tn-159" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'now and than'"> -now and then</ins>.</p> - -<p>A young woman by the old accident having got herself -with child, was called to the Session for so doing: and after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -one elder another examining her how she got it, and where -she got it, and what tempt her to get it; and no doubt the -de’il wad get her for the getting of it; last of all the minister -he fell a enquiring how she got it, which run the poor lass out -of all patience about the getting of it, says the priest: tell me -plainly where it was gotten, I tell you said she, that it was -gotten in the byre, at a cows staike, and what other place do -you want to ken about: but said he, he did not tye you to the -cows staike, no said she, I did not need any tying, and how -far was between the byre and the house? just butt and ben, up -and down twa steps of a stone stair, then says the priest, why -did you not cry to the folks in the house: indeed sir, said she, -I could not get cried for laughing at it.</p> - -<p>An old sodger being on a furlough from the north of Scotland, -having got no breakfast, fell very hungry by the way and -no ale house being near; came into a farmers house, and -desired they would sell, him some bread, or any kind of victuals: -to which the surly good wife reply’d, she never sold any -bread, and she was not going to begin with him, he had but -three miles and a bittok<a id="FNanchor_155" href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a> to an ale-house, and he might march -on, and she did fair enough when she gide bits of bread for -naething to beggars though she gide nane to idle sodgers; he -had naething to do there awa: Hute said the goodman gi’ -him a laidle fu’ o’ our kail, he’s been ay somebodys bairn, before -he was a sodger,<a id="FNanchor_156" href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> What said she there not a drop in the -pot, they’re a’ in the plate before you, then gi’ him a spoon and -let him sup wi’ us, the soldier gets a spoon and thinking he -could sup all he seed himself, the first soup he put in his -mouth, spouted it back again in the plate, and crys out O my -sore mouth, the hide’s all of it yet since I had the Clap then<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -every one threw down his spoon, the soldier got all to sup -himself, the wife stood cursing and scolding all the while, and -when he was done burnt both plate and spoon in the fire to -prevent the Clap: So the soldier came off with a full belly, -leaving the wife dressing the goodmans rigging with a four -footed stool, for bidding him sup.</p> - -<p>A great drover who frequainted a public inn in the north of -England as he passed and repassed agreed with the servant -maid of the house, for a touch of love: for which he gave her -a six and thirty shilling piece: But on the next morning -mounted his horse without asking a bill, or what was to pay, -but sir, said the landlord, you forgot to pay your reckoning -well minded, sir said he, I want my change I gave your maid -a six and thirty to change, the poor maid is called on in haste, -yes said she I got it, but it was not for that, throws it down -and off she goes, her mistress understood and gave her the -challenge, she told her it was so, but she should be up with -him; so in twelve months thereafter, he came past with his -drove, puts up at the same inn as foremerly; then the -girl goes to a neighbour woman, and borrows a young child -about three months old, comes into the company where he -was, lays it down on the table, saying, sir there’s the change of -your six and thirty, and away she comes; the child crys, and -the bells rung, the landlord was ready enough to answer, O -sir, said he, call her back for this will ruin my family and crack -my credit, but sir said the girl, you thought nothing to ruin -my character and crack my maiden head; peace, peace said -he, my dear, here’s one hundred and fifty pound and take away -the child and trouble me no more, well said she I’ll take it: -But you will make more of buying cows than maiden heads; -so away she came with the money, and returned the borrowed -child to its own mother.</p> - -<p>A churlish husband and virtuous wife one time fell sadly -out, because the wife had given something to the poor, what, -said he, mistress, I’ll let you know <ins class="corr" id="tn-161" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'ther is nothing'"> -there is nothing</ins> about this -house but what is mine and you’re mine, and your very arse is -mine; a well well goodman, then you will let me have nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -take it all and give me peace: So away they went to bed the -goodwife turned her backside towards the goodman, and as he -was falling asleep, she draws up her smoke, and let’s fly in the -goodman’s shirt-tail, which wakened him in a great fright, as -he had been shot; ay, ay, woman, what are ye about; what -am I about, said she, dear woman your filling the bed, not I -goodman, for when my arse was my own I took care of it, and -take you care of it now it is yours. O rise woman and clean -the bed, and keep your arse, and a’ the liberty ye had before, -and more if you want it, fich fich, what’s this! am a dirt.</p> - -<p>A ships crew being one time in great distress at sea by -reason of a violent storm, and being all fallen down to prayer, -expecting every moment to go to the bottom; there happened -to be an old gentleman a passenger on board with them who -had a great big red nose with drinking ale and whisky; and -being all at their last prayer as they thought, a little boy burst -out into loud laughter: O thou thoughtless rogue said the -captain what makes thee to laugh in seeing us all on the point -of perishing, why, said the boy, I cannot but laugh, to think -what a fine sport it will be when we are all drowning, to see -how that man’s red nose will make the water bizz when it -comes about it, at which words they all fell a laughing, and -cheered the crew, so that they made another attempt to weather -it out, and got all safe on shore at last.</p> - -<p class="p1 pad2"><em>My lovely Bett</em>,</p> - -<p>The beauty of old age, thy hoary head and loutching -shoulders inclines to mortality, yet I’ll compare thee to an eagle -that has renewed her youth, or a leek with a white head and a -green tail, this comes to thee with my kind compliments, for -the kisses of thy lips, and the kindness I had to thy late bed-fellow -fiddler Pate my brother pensioner, ah! how we drank -other’s healths with the broe of the brewket<a id="FNanchor_157" href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a> ewes, we brought -from boughts of the German Boors, but its nonesence, to blow -the dead when in the dust, yet a better violer never scrided on -a silken cord, or kittled a cat’s tryps with his finger-ends, his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -elbow was souple as a eel, and his fingers dabbed at the jigging -end like a hungry hen picking barley: I seldom or ever saw -him drunk, if keep him from whisky and whisky from him; -except that night, he trysted the pair of free stone breeches -from Joseph the mason, and now my dear Bessy he’s got -them he’s got them, for a free stone covers his body, holds him -down and will do, and now, now, my dainty thing, my bonny -thing, my best match for matrimony come take me now, or -tell me now, I am in anger,<a id="FNanchor_158" href="#Footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a> I’ll wait nae langer, I say be -clever, either now or never, its a rapture of love, that does me -move, I’ll have a wife or by my life, if she should be blind and -criple, I’ll sell my win, for her meat and fun, the like ne’er -gade down her thraple; so now Bessy I love you and my love -lies upon you, and if ye love not me again some ill chance -come upon you, as am flyting free and flitting free am both in -love and banter; or may your rumple rust for me, I’ve sworn -it by my chanter.</p> - -<p class="p1 center"><em>From John Kirk’s Wind-mill at Corky Crown.</em></p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_SCOTS_PIPERS_QUERIES"><em>THE SCOTS PIPER’S QUERIES:<br /> -<span class="fs80">OR</span><br /> -JOHN FALKIRK’S CARICHES.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[Reprinted from an undated edition published by C. Randall, Stirling, and collated -with one by J. Morren, Edinburgh, and the modern Glasgow undated -edition. The full title is:—‘The Scots Piper’s Queries: or John Falkirk’s Cariches, -made Both Plain and Easy.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Old <span class="smcap">Piper John</span> if you desire</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To read at leisure by the fire:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">’Twill please the Bairns and keep them laughing,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And mind the Goodwife o’ her daffing.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Stirling.—Printed by C. Randall.’]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="jfc-I"> -<p class="p2 center"><span class="smcap">An Account of John Falkirk, the Scots -Piper.</span><a id="FNanchor_159" href="#Footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a></p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">John Falkirk, commonly called the <em>Scots Piper</em>, was a -curious little witty fellow, with a round face and a broad nose. -None of his companions could answer the many witty questions -he proposed to them, therefore he became the wonder of the -age in which he lived. Being born of mean parents he got no -education, therefore his witty invention was truly natural; and -being bred to no business, he was under the necessity of using -his genius in the composition of several small books, of which -the following Cariches was one, which he disposed of for his -support. He became author of many small Tracts, and the -following curious and diverting pieces are said to be his composition, -viz.:—The History of John Cheap the Chapman, The -History of the Haveral Wives, Janet Clinker’s Oration, John -Falkirk’s Witty Jokes, Jockie and Maggie’s Courtship, The -Proverbs of the Pride of Women, History of Lothian Tom, -with many others, which are well known in Scotland, England, -and Ireland. In a word, he was</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">The wittiest fellow in his time,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Either for Prose, or making Rhyme.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">THE SCOTS PIPER’S QUERIES;<br /> -<span class="fs80">OR,</span><br /> -JOHN FALKIRK’S CARICHES.<a id="FNanchor_160" href="#Footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a></p> -</div> - - -<p>Q. What is the wisest behaviour of ignorant persons?</p> - -<p>A. To speak of nothing but what they know, and to give -their opinion of nothing but what they understand.</p> - -<p>Q. What time is a scolding wife at the best?</p> - -<p>A. When she is fast asleep.</p> - -<p>Q. What time is a scolding wife at the worst?</p> - -<p>A. When she is that wicked as to tear the hair out of her -own head, when she cannot get at her neighbours, and thro’ -perfect spite bites her own tongue with her own teeth, my -hearty wish is, that all such wicked vipers may ever do so.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the effectual cure and infallible remedy for a -scolding wife?</p> - -<p>A. The only cure is to get out of the hearing of her, but -the infallible remedy is to nail her tongue to a growing tree, -in the beginning of a cold winter night, and so let her stand -till sun-rising next morning, she’ll become one of the peacegblest -women that ever lay by a man’s side.</p> - -<p>Q. What time of the year is it that there is most holes open?</p> - -<p>A. In harvest when there are stubbles.</p> - -<p>Q. At what time is the cow heaviest?</p> - -<p>A. When the bull is on her back.</p> - -<p>Q. Who was the goodman’s muckle cow’s calf’s mother?</p> - -<p>A. None but the muckle cow herself.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the likeliest thing to a man and a horse?</p> - -<p>A. A tailor and a mare.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the hardest dinner that ever a taylor laid his -teeth to?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span></p> - -<p>A. His own goose, tho’ ever so well boiled or roasted.</p> - -<p>Q. How many tods’ tails will it take to reach up to the -moon?</p> - -<p>A. One if it be long enough.</p> - -<p>Q. How many sticks gangs to the bigging of a craw’s nest?</p> - -<p>A. None for they are all carried.</p> - -<p>Q. How many whit’s will a well made pudding prick need?</p> - -<p>A. If it be well made it needs no more.</p> - -<p>Q. Who was the father of Zebedee’s children?</p> - -<p>A. Who but himself.</p> - -<p>Q. Where did Moses go when he was full fifteen years old?</p> - -<p>A. Into his sixteenth.</p> - -<p>Q. How near related is your aunty’s good-brother to you?</p> - -<p>A. No nearer than my own father.</p> - -<p>Q. How many holes are there in a hen’s doup?</p> - -<p>A. Two.</p> - -<p>Q. How prove you that?</p> - -<p>A. There is one for the dung and another for the egg.</p> - -<p>Q. Who is the best for catching of rogues?</p> - -<p>A. None so fit as a rogue himself.</p> - -<p>Q. Where was the usefulest fair in Scotland kept?</p> - -<p>A. At Millgavie.<a id="FNanchor_161" href="#Footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a></p> - -<p>Q. What sort of commodities were sold there?</p> - -<p>A. Nothing but ale and ill wicked wives.</p> - -<p>Q. How was it abolished?</p> - -<p>A. Because those who went to it once would go to it no -more.</p> - -<p>Q. For what reason?</p> - -<p>A. Because there was no money to be got for them, but -fair barter, wife for wife, and he who put away a wife for one -fault got a wife with two as bad.</p> - -<p>Q. What was the reason that in those days, a man could -put away his wife for pissing the bed, and not for sh——g it?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p> - -<p>A. Because he could shute it away with his foot and ly -down.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the reason now a-days, that men court cast -marry, and re-marry so many wives, and only but one in public -at last?</p> - -<p>A. Because private marriage is become as common as -smuggling and cuckolding the kirk no more thought of than -a man to ride a mile or two upon his neighbour’s mare, men -get will and wale of wives, the best portion, and properest person -is preferred, the first left the weak to the worst, and she -whom he does not love, he shutes away with his foot, and lies -down with whom he pleases.</p> - -<p>Q. How will you know the bairns of our towns by all -others in the kingdom?</p> - -<p>A. By their ill-breeding, and bad manners.</p> - -<p>Q. What is their behaviour?</p> - -<p>A. If you ask them a question in civility, if it were but the -road to the next town, they’ll tell you to follow your nose, and -if you go wrong curse the guide.</p> - -<p>Q. Are young and old of them no better?</p> - -<p>A. All the odds lies in the difference, for if you ask a child -to whom he belongs, or who is his father, he’ll tell you to kiss -his father’s a—.</p> - -<p>Q. What sort of creatures is kindliest when they meet?</p> - -<p>A. None can exceed the kindness of dogs when they meet -in a market.</p> - -<p>Q. And what is collie’s kindness there?</p> - -<p>A. First, they kiss others mouths and noses, smell all about, -and last of all, they are so kind as to kiss others below the tail.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the coldest part of a dog?</p> - -<p>A. His nose.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the coldest part of a man?</p> - -<p>A. His knees.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the coldest part of a woman?</p> - -<p>A. The back parts of her body.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the reason, that these three parts of man, -woman, and dogs, are coldest?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span></p> - -<p>A. Fabulous historian say that there was three little holes -in Noah’s Ark, and that the dog stopt his nose in one, and -the other the man put his knee in it, a third and biggest hole -broke, the woman bang’d her backside in it and these parts -being exposed to the cold blast, make them always cold ever -since.</p> - -<p>Q. And what does the women do to warm their cold parts?</p> - -<p>A. The married women turn their backsides to the goodman’s -belly; virgins and those going mad for marriage the -heat of their maidenhead keeps them warm, old matrons, -whirl’d o’er maidens, widow and widows bewitch’d hold up -their coldest parts to the fire.</p> - -<p>Q. And what remedy does the poor dog take for his cold -nose?</p> - -<p>A. Stops it below his tail the hottest bit in his body.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the reason the dogs are worst on the chapmen, -than on other strange people?</p> - -<p>A. It is said the dogs have three accusations against the -chapmen, handed down from father to son, or from one generation -of dogs to another; the first is as old as Æsop the great -wit of Babylon, the dog having a lawsuit against the cat, gained -the plea, and coming trudging home with the decree below his -tail a wicked chapman throwing his ellwan at him, he let it fa’ -and so lost all his privileges thereby. The second is, because -in old times the chapmen used to buy dogs and kill them for -their skins. The third, when a chapman was quarterd in a -farmer’s house, that night the dog lost his property the licking -the pot.</p> - -<p>Q. What creature resembles most a drunken piper?</p> - -<p>A. A cat when she sips milk; she always sings, and so -does a piper when he drinks good ale.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the reason a dog runs twice round about before -he ly down?</p> - -<p>A. Because he does not know the head of his bed from the -foot of it.</p> - -<p>Q. What creature resembles most a long lean, ill looking -greasy-fac’d lady for pride?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span></p> - -<p>A. None so much as the cat, who is continually spitting -in her lufe and rubbing her face, as many of such ladies do -the brown leather of their wrinkled chafts.</p> - -<p>Q. Amongst what sort of creatures will you observe most -of a natural law?</p> - -<p>A. The hart and the hind meet at one certain day in the -year; the brood goose, lays her first egg on Fasterns Even, -old stile; the crows begin to build their nest the first of March -old stile; the swans observe matrimony, and if the female die, -the male dares not take up with another or the rest will put -him to death; all the birds in general join in pairs and keep -so; but the dove resembles the adulterer, when the shoe-one -turns old, he puts her away, and takes another; the locusts -observe military order, and march in bands; the frogs resemble -pipers and preachers, for the young ride the old to -death.</p> - -<p>Q. Who are the merriest and heartiest people in the world?</p> - -<p>A. The sailors, for they’ll be singing and cursing one -another when the waves, their graves, are going over their -heads.</p> - -<p>Q. Which are the disorderliest creatures in battle?</p> - -<p>A. Cows and dogs for they all fall on them that are neath-most.</p> - -<p>Q. Who are the vainest sort of people in the world?</p> - -<p>A. A barber, a tailor, a young soldier, and a poor dominie.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the great cause of the barber’s vanity?</p> - -<p>A. His being admitted to trim noblemen’s chafts, thyke -their sculls, take kings by the nose, and hold a razor to his very -throat, which no other subject else dare do.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the great cause of the tailor’s pride?</p> - -<p>A. His making of peoples new clothes, of which every -person, young and old is proud of, then who can walk in a -vainer shew than a tailor carrying home a gentleman’s clothes.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the cause of a young soldier’s pride?</p> - -<p>A. When he lists, he thinks he is free from his mother’s -correction, the hard usage of a bad master, has a liberty to -curse, swear, whore, and do every thing; until he be con<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>vinced -by four halberts and the drummer’s whip that he has -now got both a military and civil law above his head, and -perhaps worse masters than ever.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the cause of the poor dominie’s pride?</p> - -<p>A. As he is a teacher of the young and ignorant, he supposes -no man knows what he knows, the boys call him master -therefore he thinks himself a great man.</p> - -<p>Q. What sort of a song is it that is sung without a tongue, -and its notes are understood by people of all nations?</p> - -<p>A. It is a fart which every person knows to be but wind.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the reason that young people are vain, giddy-headed, -and airy, and not so humble as the children of former -years?</p> - -<p>A. Because they are brought up and educat after a more -haughty strain, by reading fables, plays, novels, and romances; -gospel books, such as the psalm-book, proverbs, and the catechisms -are like old almanacks; nothing in vogue, but fiddle, -flute, Troy and Babylonish tunes; our plain English corrupted -with beauish cants, dont, wont, nen, and ken, a jargon worse -than the Yorkshire dialect.<a id="FNanchor_162" href="#Footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a></p> - -<p>Q. Why is swearing become so common amongst the Scot -people?</p> - -<p>A. Because so many lofty teachers come from the south -amongst us, where swearing is practised in its true grammatical -perfection, hot oaths, new struck, with as bright a lustre as -a new quarter guinea.</p> - -<p>Q. How will you know the bones of a mason’s mare at the -back of a dyke amongst the bones of a hundred dead horses.</p> - -<p>A. Because it is made of wood.</p> - -<p>Q. Which are the two things not to be spared, but not to -be abused.</p> - -<p>A. A soldier’s coat, and a hired horse.<a id="FNanchor_163" href="#Footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a></p> - -<p>Q. How is a man in debt like a nobleman?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span></p> - -<p>A. Because he has many to wait on and call for him.</p> - -<p>Q. How is swearing like a shabby coat?</p> - -<p>A. Because it is a bad habit.</p> - -<p>Q. How is a bad pen like a wicked and profligate man?</p> - -<p>A. Because it wants mending.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a church bell like a story that is handed about?</p> - -<p>A. Because it is often toll’d.</p> - -<p>Q. What is a man like that is in the midst of a river and -cannot swim?</p> - -<p>A. He is like to be drowned.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a drawn tooth like a thing that is forgot?</p> - -<p>A. Because it is out of one’s head.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a book like a tree?</p> - -<p>A. Because it is full of leaves.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a good sermon like a plump pudding?</p> - -<p>A. Because there is reasons in it.</p> - -<p>Q. How is a whorish woman like a charitable person?</p> - -<p>A. Because she brings her husband to a piece of bread.<a id="FNanchor_164" href="#Footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a></p> - -<p>Q. How is a lawyer like a contentious person?</p> - -<p>A. Because he breeds wrangling and jangling.</p> - -<p>Q. Who is the greatest fool in the world?</p> - -<p>A. A whore; for she hazards soul and body for a miserable -livelihood.</p> - -<p>Q. Who are the two greatest thieves in Great Britain?</p> - -<p>A. Tea and Tobacco, for they pick the pockets of the -whole nation.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the difference between Ale-drapers and Linen-drapers?</p> - -<p>A. Only this, the one cheats you with froth and the other -with cloth.</p> - -<p>Q. If Extortioners cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven, -where will Usurers, Tallymen, and Pawn-brokers go?</p> - -<p>A. The same road with Extortioners.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the consequence of immoderate gaming?</p> - -<p>A. By cards and dice, a man is ruin’d in a trice, for gaming -and whoring often hang together.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span></p> - -<p>Q. What employments are likest to one another?</p> - -<p>A. Soldiers and Butchers are bloody near relations, for -they both live by slaughtering and killing.</p> - -<p>Q. What are the two hardest things to be found, and yet -they are both good in their kind?</p> - -<p>A. Good women and good small beer.</p> - -<p>Q. Who is the likest to a Boatman?</p> - -<p>A. An hypocrite, who always look one way and rows another, -in all his transactions.</p> - -<p>Q. What are the five greatest rarities to be found in the -world?</p> - -<p>A. A black Swan, a Phœnix, an Unicorn, the Philosophers’ -Stone, and a maiden at sixteen.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the greatest folly that sensible people can be -guilty of?</p> - -<p>A. To go to law about trifles, for whatever way the plea -end, the lawyers will be the greatest gainers.</p> - -<p>Q. Who has the honestest trade in the world?</p> - -<p>A. Ballad-singers; for they always deal with ready-money: -and it is as ancient as the Siege of Troy, for Homer was a -ballad-singer.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the surest method for one to become both rich -and respectable?</p> - -<p>A. To be sober and industrious.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the best method of overcoming the argument -of a positive person?</p> - -<p>A. Either to say with him, or give him no answer.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the wisest course to be followed by a man who -has a brawling and scolding wife?</p> - -<p>A. To keep silent, and then she’ll bite her own fingers -with anger.</p> - -<p>Q. What thing is that which is lengthened by being cut at -both ends?</p> - -<p>A. A Ditch.</p> - -<p>Q. What is that which was born without a soul, lived and -had a soul, yet died without a soul?</p> - -<p>A. The whale that swallowed Jona.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span></p> - -<p>Q. What is the longest and the shortest thing in the world? -the swiftest and the slowest? the most indivisible and the -most extended? the least valued and the most regretted? -without which nothing can be done? which devours all that -is small, yet gives life and spirit to all that is great?</p> - -<p>A. Time.</p> - -<p>Q. What creatures are those which appear closely connected, -yet upon examination are found to be three distinct -bodies, with eight legs, five on one side, and three on the -other; three mouths, two straight forwards, and the third on -one side; six eyes, four on one side, two on the other: six -ears, four on one side, and two on the other?</p> - -<p>A. A Man and Woman on horseback.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a churchyard like an inn?</p> - -<p>A. Because it receives weary travellers.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a carrotty<a id="FNanchor_165" href="#Footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> lady like a troop of soldiers?</p> - -<p>A. Because she bears fire-locks.</p> - -<p>Q. What did Adam first set in the garden of Eden?</p> - -<p>A. His foot.</p> - -<p>Q. How is it that a clergyman’s horse is like a King?</p> - -<p>A. Because he is guided by a minister.</p> - -<p>Q. What is the difference between a boiled sheep’s head -and a sheep’s head boiled?</p> - -<p>A. In the first the sheep is boiled and in the last the head -is boiled.</p> - -<p>Q. What kind of snuff is that, the more that is taken the -fuller the box is?</p> - -<p>A. It is the snuff off the candle.</p> - -<p>Q. What relation is that child to its own father who is not -its father’ own son?</p> - -<p>A. Surely his daughter.</p> - -<p>Q. What is that which is often brought to table, always -cut, but never eaten?</p> - -<p>A. A pack of cards.</p> - -<p>Q. Where was Peter when his candle went out?</p> - -<p>A. He was in the dark.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p> - -<p>Q. What relation is your uncle’s brother to you who is not -your uncle?</p> - -<p>A. He must be your father.</p> - -<p>Q. What difference is there between twice five and twenty -and twice twenty five?</p> - -<p>A. The former is 30, the latter is 50.</p> - -<p>Q. Why is a brewer’s horse like a tap-ster?</p> - -<p>A. Because they draw drafts of drink.</p> - -<p class="p4 pfs80">END OF THE CARICHES.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span><br /></p> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_COMICAL_SAYINGS_OF_PADY"><em>THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADY -FROM CORK.</em></h2> -</div> - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The text here followed is that of an edition in the possession of Matthew -Shields, Esq. The full title is:—‘The Comical Sayings of Pady from Cork, with -his coat button’d behind. Being an Elegant Conference between English Tom -and Irish Teague: With Pady’s Catechism, his Opinion of Purgatory, the State -of the dead; and his Supplication when a Mountain Sailor. To which is added, -a Creed for all Romish Believers. In all its parts, carefully corrected. Glasgow, -Printed by J. & M. Robertson, (No. 18.) Saltmarket, 1807.’ It is a 24 pp. 12mo. -Pady’s Catechism and petition, and the Creed, have been collated with the versions -of them given in the 1777 edition of <cite>Lothian Tom</cite>. See prefatory note to -that chap-book at p. 66 of the present volume, and also footnote at p. 84.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE COMICAL SAYINGS OF PADY FROM CORK.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<h3 class="smcap lsp2">Part I.</h3> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Good morrow, Sir, this is a very cold day.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, yesternight was a very cold -morning.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well brother traveller, of what nation art thou?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra dear shoy, I come from my own kingdom.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Why, Sir, I know that, but where is thy kingdom?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Allelieu dear honey, don’t you know Cork in -Ireland.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O you fool, Cork is not a kingdom, but a city.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Then dear shoy, I’m shure it is in a kingdom.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what is the reason you have come and left your -own dear country?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra dear honey, by shaint Patrick, they have got -such comical laws in our country, that they’ll put a man to -death in perfect health; so to be free and plain with you, -neighbour, I was obliged to come away, for I did not choose -to stay among such a people that can hang a poor man when -they please, if he either steals, robs, or kills a man.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Ay, but I take you to be more of an honest man, -than to steal, rob, or kill a man.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Honest, I am perfectly honest, when I was but a -child, my mother would have trusted me with a house full of -mill-stones.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What was the matter, was you guilty of nothing?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I did harm to nobody? but fancied -an old gentleman’s gun, and afterwards made it my own.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Very well boy, and did you keep it so?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Keep it, I would have kept it with all my heart -while I lived, death itself could not have parted us, but the old -rogue, the gentleman, being a justice of the peace himself, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -me tried for the rights of it, and how I came by it, and so took -it again.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you clear yourself without punishment?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I told him a parcel of lies, but they -would not believe me; for I said that I got it from my father -when it was a little pistol, and I had keeped it till it had grown -a gun, and was designed to use it well until it had grown a big -cannon, and then sell it to the military. They all fell a laughing -at me as I had been a fool, and bade me go home to my -mother and clean the potatoes.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> How long is it since you left your own country?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I do not mind whether it be a -fortnight or four months, but I think myself, it is a long time; -they tell me my mother is dead since, but I won’t believe it, -until I get a letter from her own hand, for she is a very good -scholar, suppose she can neither write nor read.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Was you ever in England before?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, that I was, and in Scotland too.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And were they kind to you when you was in Scotland?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> They were that kind, that they kick’t my arse for -me, and the reason was because I would not pay the whole of -the liquor that was drunk in the company, though the landlord -and his two sons got mouthful about of it; they would -have me pay it all, tho’ I did not drink it all, and I told -them it was a trick upon travellers, first to drink his liquor, -and then to kick him out of doors.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I really think they have used you badly, but could -you not beat them?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> That’s what I did, beat them all to their own contentment; -but there was one of them stronger than me, who -would have killed me, if the other two had not pulled me -away, and I had to run for it, till his passion was over; then -they made us drink and gree again; we shook hands, and -made a bargain, never to harm other more; but this bargain -did not last long, for, as I was kissing his mouth, by shaint<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -Patrick, I bit his nose, which caused him to beat me very sore -for my pains.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well Pady, what calling was you when in Scotland.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why sir, I was no business at all, but what do you -call the green tree that’s like a whin bush, many people makes -a thing to sweep the house of it!</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O yes Pady, they call it a broom.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, ay, you have it, then I was a gentleman’s -broom, only waited on his horses, and washed the dishes for -the cook; and when my master rode a hunting, I ran behind -along with the dogs.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O yes, Pady, it was a groom you mean, but I fancy -you was cook’s mate, or kitchen-boy.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> No, no, it was the broom that I was, and if I had -staid there till now, I might have been advanced as high as -my master, for the ladies loved me so well, that they laughed -at me.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> They might admire you for a fool.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> What sir, do you imagine that I am not a fool, no, -no, my master asked counsel of me in all his matters, and I -always gave him a reason for every thing: I told him one -morning that he went too soon to the hunting, that the hares -were not got out of their beds; and neither the barking of -horns nor the blowing of dogs, could make them rise, it was -such a cold morning that night; so they all ran away that we -catched, when we did not see them. Then my master told my -words to several gentlemen that was at dinner with him, and -they admired me for want of wisdom, saying, I was certainly -a man of great judgement, for my head was all of a lump, -added, they were going a-fishing along with my master and -me in the afternoon; but I told them it was a very unhappy -thing for any man to go a hunting in the morning and a fishing -in the afternoon; yet they would try it, but they had -better staid at home, for it came on a most terrible fine night -of south-west rain and even-down-wind: so the fishes got all -below the water to keep them dry from the shower, and we -catched them all, but got none of them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how long did you serve that gentleman, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I was with him six weeks, and he -beat me seven times.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> For what did he beat you? was it for your madness -and foolish tricks?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear shoy, it was not; but for being too inquisitive -and going sharply about business. First, he sent me to the -post-office, to enquire if there was any letters for him: so -when I came there, said I, is there any letters here for my -master to-day? Then they asked who was my master; sir, -said I, it is very bad manners in you to ask any gentleman’s -name: at this they laughed, mocking me, and said they -could give me none, if I would not tell my master’s name: so -I returned to my master, and told the impudence of the fellow, -how he would give me no letters unless I would tell him your -name, master. My master at this flew in a great passion, -and kicked me down stairs, saying, Go you rogue and tell my -name directly, how can the gentleman give letters, when he -knows not who is asking for them! Then I returned and told -my master’s name, so they told me there was one for him, I -looked at it, but being very small, and asking the price of it; -they told me it was sixpence! sixpence, said I, will you take -sixpence for that small thing, and selling bigger ones for twopence; -faith I am not such a big fool; you think to cheat me, -now, this is not a conscionable way of dealing, I’ll acquaint -my master of it first; so I came and told my master how -they would have sixpence for his letter and was selling bigger -ones for twopence; he took up my head and broke his cane -with it, calling me a thousand fools, saying, the man was more -just, than to take any thing but the right for it: but I was -sure there was none of the right buying and selling such -dear penny-worths: So I came again for my dear sixpence -letter; and as the fellow was shuffling through a parcel of -them, seeking for it again, to make the best of a dear market, -I pick’t up two, and home I comes to my master, thinking he -would be well pleased with what I had done, now, said I, -master, I think I have put a trick on them fellows, for selling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span> -the letter to you: What have you done? said he, said I, I -have only taken other two letters; here’s one for you, master, -to help your dear penny-worth, and I’ll send the other to -my mother to see whether she be dead or alive, for she’s -always angry I don’t write to her: I had not the word well -spoken, till he got up his stick and beat me heartily for it, -and sent me back to the fellows again with the two: I had -a very ill will to go, but nobody would buy them of me by -the way.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> A well, Pady, I think you was to blame, and your -master too, for he ought to have taught you how to have gone -about those affairs, and not beat you so.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I had too much wit of my own to -be teached by him, or any body else; he began to instruct me -after that, how I should serve the table, and such nasty things -as those: one night I took ben a roasted fish in one hand, and -a piece of bread in the other; the old gentleman was so saucy -he would not take it, and told me, I should bring nothing -to him without a trencher below it: the same night as he was -going to bed, he called for his slippers and pish-pot, so I clapt -a trencher below the pish-pot, and another below the slippers, -and ben I goes, one in every hand: no sooner did I enter the -room, than he threw the pish-pot at me which broke both my -head and the pish-pot at one blow: now, said I, the devil is in -my master altogether, for what he commands at one time he -countermands at another. Next day I went with him to the -market to buy a sack of potatoes, I went to the potatoe-monger, -and asked what he took for the full of a Scot’s cog, he weighed -them in, he asked no less than fourpence; fourpence, said I, if -I were but in Dublin, I could get the full of that for nothing, -and in Cork and Kinsale far cheaper; them is but small things -like pease, said I, but the potatoes in my country is as big as -your head, fine meat, all made up in blessed mouthfuls; the -potatoe-merchant called me a liar, and my master called me a -fool, so the one fell a-kicking me, and the other a cuffing me, -I was in such bad bread among them, that I called myself both -a liar and a fool to get off alive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you carry <ins class="corr" id="tn-186" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'your potates home'"> -your potatoes home</ins> from the market?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I carried the horse and them both, -besides a big loaf, and two bottles of wine: for I put the old -horse on my back, and drove the potatoes before me: and -when I tied the load to the loaf, I had nothing to do but to -carry the bottle in my hand: but bad luck to the way as I -came home, for a nail out of the heal of my foot sprung a leak -in my brogue, which pricked the very bone, bruised the skin, -and made my brogue itself to blood: and I having no hammer -by me, but a hatchet I left at home, I had to beat down the -nail with the bottom of the bottle: and by the book, dear -shoy, it broke to pieces, and scattered the wine in my mouth.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you recompense your master for the -loss of your bottle of wine?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra dear shoy, I had a mind to cheat him, and myself -too, for I took the bottle to a blacksmith, and desired him -to mend it, that I might go to the butcher and get it full of -bloody water, but he told me he could not work in any thing -but steel and iron. Arra, said I, if I were in my own kingdom, -I could get a blacksmith who would make a bottle out -of a stone, and a stone out of nothing.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you trick your master out of it?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why the old rogue began to chide me, asking me -what way I broke it, then I held up the other as high as my -head, and let it fall to the ground on a stone, which broke it -all in pieces likewise: now, said I, master, that’s the way, and -then he beat me very heartily, until I had to shout out mercy -and murder all at once.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Why did you not leave him when he used you so -badly.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I could never think to leave him -while I could eat, he gave me so many good victuals, and promised -to prefer me to be his own bone-picker. But by shaint -Patrick, I had to run away with my life or all was done, else -I had lost my dear shoul and body too by him, and then I -came home much poorer than I went away. The great big<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -bitch dog which was my master’s best beloved, put his head -into a pitcher to lick out some milk, and when it was in he -could not get it out, and I to save the pitcher got the hatchet -and cut off the dog’s head, and then I had to break the pitcher -to get out the head; by this I lost both the dog and the -pitcher. My master, hearing of this, swore he would cut the -head off me, for the poor dog was made useless, and could not -see to follow any body for want of his eyes: And when I -heard of this, I ran away with my own head, for if I had -wanted it I had lost my eyes too, then I would not have seen -the road <ins class="corr" id="tn-187" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'to Port Partrick'"> -to Port Patrick</ins>, through Glen-nap, but by shaint -Patrick I came home alive in spite of them all.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O rarely done Pady, you behaved like a man, but -what is the reason that you Irish people swear always by -shaint Patrick, what is this shaint Patrick?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, he was the best shaint in the -world, the father of all good people in the kingdom, he has a -great kindness for an Irishman, when he hears him calling -on his name; he was the first that sow’d the potatoes in -Ireland, for he knew it was a bit of good fit ground, it being a -gentleman’s garden before Noah’s flood.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> But dear Pady, is shaint Patrick yet alive, that he -hears the Irish people when they speak of his name?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I don’t know whether he be dead -or alive, but it’s a long time since they killed him, the people -turned all heathens, for he would not change his profession, and -was going to run the country with it, and for taking his gospel -away to England, so the barbarous tories of Dublin cutted off -his head, and what do you think he did when his head was off?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What could a dead man do you fool?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dead, faith he was not such a big fool as to die yet, -he swimmed over to England after this, and brought his head -along with him.<a id="FNanchor_166" href="#Footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did he carry his head and swim too?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, he carried his head in his teeth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> No, Pady, it won’t hold, I must have caution for -that.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> If you won’t believe me, I’ll swear it over again.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-II"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART II.</h3> -</div> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you get safe out of Scotland at last?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> By the law dear honey, when I came to Port Patrick, -and saw my own kingdom, I thought I was safe at home, but -I was clean dead and almost drowned before I could get -riding over the water: for I, with nine passengers more, leapt -in a little young boat, having but four men dwelling in a little -house, in the one end of it, which was all thacked with deals: -and after they had pulled up her tether-stick, and laid her -long halter over her mane, they pulled up a long big sheet -like three pair of blankets to the riggen of the house, and the -wind blew in that, which made her gallop up one hill and -down another, till I thought she would have run to the world’s -end if some part of the world had not catch’t her by the foot.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I fancy, Pady, you was by this time very sick?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Sick, ay sick beyond all sickness, clean dead as a -door-nail; for as I had lost the key of my backside, I bock’d -up the very bottom of my belly, and I thought that liver and -lungs, and all that I had should have gone together; then I -called to the fellow that held by her tail behind, to pull down -his sheet and hold her head, till I got leasure to die, and then -say my prayers.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well then, Pady, and got you safe ashore at last?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, we came ashore very fast; but, by shaint -Patrick, I shall never venture my dear shoul and body in -such a young boat again, while the wind blows out of Scots -Galloway.<a id="FNanchor_167" href="#Footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well, Pady, and where did you go when you came -to Ireland again?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra dear honey, and where did I go, but to my -own dear cousin, who was now become very rich by the death -of the old buck his father: who died but a few weeks before -I went over, and the parish had to bury him out of pity, it -did not cost him a farthing.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what entertainment or good usage did you get -there, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> O my dear shoy, I was kindly used as another -gentleman, for I told him I had made something of it, by my -travels, as well as himself, but I had got no money, therefore -I had to work for my victuals while I staid with him.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Ho, poor Pady, I suppose you would not stay long -there.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I could have staid there long -enough, but when a man is poor his friends think little of -him: I told him I was going to see my brother Harry: Harry, -said he, is dead: dead said I, and who killed him? Why -said he, death: Allelieu, dear honey, and where did he kill -him? said I. In his bed, said he; O what for a cowardly -action was that, said I, to kill a man in his bed: and what is -this fellow death? said I. What is he, He is one that kills -more than the head butcher in all Cork does. Arra, dear -honey, said I, if he had been upon Newry mountains with his -brogues on, and his broad sword by his side, all the deaths in -Ireland had not have killed him: O that impudent fellow -death, if he had let him alone till he died for want of butter -milk and potatoes, I am sure he had lived all the days of his -life.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> In all your travels when abroad, did you never see -any of your countrymen, to inform you of what happened at -home concerning your relations?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra dear shoy, I saw none but Tom Jack one day -in the street; but when I came to him, it was not him, but -one just like him.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> On what account did you go a travelling?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why, a decruiting sergeant listed me to be a captain, -and after all advanced me no higher than a soldier itself, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> -only he called me his dear countryman recruit: for I did not -know what the regiment was when I saw them; I thought -they were all gentlemen’s sons and collegeoners, when I saw -a box like a bible upon their bellies: until I saw K for King -George upon it, and R for God bless him: ho, ho, said I, I -shan’t be long here.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then Pady, you deserted from them?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ah that’s what I did, and run to the mountains like -a wild buck, and ever since when I see any soldiers I close -my eyes, lest they should look and know me.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what exploits did you do when you were a soldier?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I killed a man.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you that?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, when he dropt his sword, I drew -mine, and advanced boldly to him, and then cutted off his foot.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then what a big fool was you; for you ought first -to have cut off his head.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, his head was cutted off before I -engaged him, else I had not done it.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then Pady, you acted like a fool; but you are not -such a big fool as many take you to be, you might pass for a -philosopher.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> A fulusifair, my father was a fulusifair, besides he -was a man under great authority by law, condemning the just -and clearing the guilty: do you know how they call the -horse’s mother?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Why they call her a mare.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> A mare, ay very well minded, by shaint Patrick, my -father was a mare in Cork.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what riches was left you by the death of your -mother?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> A bad luck to her old barren belly, for she lived in -great plenty, and died in great poverty: devoured up all or -she died, but two hens and a pockful of potatoes, a poor estate -for an Irish gentleman, in faith.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what did you make of your hens and potatoes, -did you sow them?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span></p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and -sold the hens to a cadger.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what business did your mother follow after?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Greatly in the merchant way.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what sort of goods did she deal in?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear honey, she went through the country and sold -small fishes, onions and apples: bought hens and eggs, and -then hatched them herself. I remember one long-necked -cock she had of an oversea brood, that stood on the midden -and picked all the stars out of the north-west so they were -never so thick there since.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Now Pady, that’s a bull surpasses all: but is there -none of that cock’s offspring alive in Ireland now?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I don’t think that there are, but it -is a pity but they had, for they would fly with people above -the sea, which would put the use of ships out of fashion, and -then there would be nobody drowned at sea at all.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Very well Pady: but in all your travels did you -ever get a wife?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay that’s what I did, and wicked wife too.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what is become of her now?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear shoy, I can’t tell whether she is gone to Purgatory, -or the parish of Pig-trantrum: for she told me she -should certainly die the first opportunity she could get, as this -present evil world was not worth the waiting on, so she would -go and see what good things is in the world to come; and so -when that old rover called the Fever, came raging like a madman -over the whole kingdom, knocking the people on the -head with deadly blows, she went away and died out of spite, -leaving me with nothing but two motherless children.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O, but Pady, you ought to have gone to a doctor, -and got some pills and physic for her.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> By shaint Patrick I had as good a pill of my -own as any doctor in the kingdom could give her, and as -for sneeshing, she could never use snuff nor tobacco in her -life.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O you fool that is not what I mean; you ought to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -have brought the doctor to feel her pulse, and let blood of her -if he thought it needful.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Yes, that’s what I did; for I ran to the doctor whenever -she died, and sought something for a dead or dying -woman; the old foolish devil was at his dinner, and began to -ask me some dirty questions, which I answered distinctly.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what did he ask, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why, he asked me, How did my wife go to stool? -to which I answered, the same way that other women go to a -chair: no, said he, that’s not what I mean, how does she -purge? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, all the fire in Purgatory -wont purge her clean; for she has both a cold and stinking -breath. Sir, said he, that is not what I ask you, whether does -she shit thick or thin? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, it is sometimes -so thick and hard that you may take it in your hand, -and eat it like a piece of cheese or pudding, and at other -times you may drink it, or sup it with a spoon. At this he -flew in a most terrible rage, and kicked me down stairs, and -would give me nothing to her, but called me a dirty scoundrel -for speaking of shit before ladies.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And was you sorry when your wife died?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, if any body had beat me, I was fit -to cry myself.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And in what good order did you bury your wife -when she died?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> O my dear shoy she was buried in all manner of -pomp, pride, and splendour; a fine coffin with cords in it, and -within the coffin along with herself, she got a pair of new -brogues, a penny candle, a good hard-headed old hammer, -with an Irish sixpenny piece, to pay her passage at the gate -and what more could she look for.<a id="FNanchor_168" href="#Footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I really think you gave her enough along with her, -but you ought to have cried for her, if it was no more but to -be in the fashion.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> And why should I cry without sorrow? when we -hired two criers to cry all the way before her to keep in the -fashion.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what do they cry before a dead woman?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why they cry the common cry, or funeral lament -that is used in our Irish country.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what manner of cry is that, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear Tom, if you don’t know, I’ll tell you, when any -dies, there is a number of criers goes before, saying, Luff, fuff, -fou, allelieu, dear honey, what aileth thee to die! it was not -for want of good buttermilk and potatoes.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-III"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART III.</h3> -</div> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well Pady, and what did you do when your wife -died?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear honey, what would I do: do you think I was -such a big fool as to die too, I am sure, If I had I would not -have got fair play, when I am not so old yet as my father was -when he died.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> No, Pady, it is not that I mean, was you sorry, or -did you weep for her?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Weep for her; by shaint Patrick I would not weep -nor yet be sorry, suppose my own mother and all the women -in Ireland had died seven years before I was born.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What did you do with your children when she died?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Do you imagine I was such a big fool as bury my -children alive, along with a dead woman: Arra, dear honey, -we always commonly give nothing along with a dead person, -but an old shirt, a winding sheet, a big hammer, with a long -candle, and an Irish silver three-penny piece?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Dear Pady, and what use do they make of all them -things?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Then, Tom, since you are so inquisitive, you must -go ask the priest.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What did you make of your children then Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> And what should I make of them, do you imagine -that I should give them into the hands of the butchers, as they -had been a parcel of young hogs: by shaint Patrick, I had -more unnaturality in me, than to put them in an hospital as -others do.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> No, I suppose you would leave them with your -friends?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, ay, a poor man’s friends is sometimes worse -than a profest enemy: the best friend I ever had in the world -was my own pocket while my money lasted; but I left two -babes between the priest’s door and the parish church, because -I thought it was a place of mercy, and then set out for England -in quest of another fortune.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And did you not take good-night with your friends -ere you came away?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I had no friends in the world but -an Irish half-crown, and I would have been very sorry to -parted with such a dear pocket-companion at such a time.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I fancy Pady, you’ve come off with what they call a -moon-shine flitting.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> You lie like a thief now, for I did not see sun, moon, -nor stars, all the night then: for I set out from Cork at the -dawn of night, and I had travelled twenty miles all but twelve, -before gloaming in the morning.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And where did you go to take shipping?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I came to a country village called -Dublin, as a big a city as any market-town in all England, -where I got myself abroad of a little young boat, with a parcel -of fellows, and a long leather bag, I supposed them to be -tinkers, until I asked what they carried in that leather sack; -they told me it was the English mail they were going over -with: then said I, is the milns so scant in England, that they -must send over their corn to Ireland to grind it; the comical -cunning fellows persuaded me it was so; then I went down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -to a little house below the water, hard by the rigg-back of the -boat, and laid me down on their leather sack, where I slept -myself almost to death with hunger. And dear Tom, to tell -you plainly, when I awaked I did not know where I was, but -thought I was dead and buried, for I found nothing all round -me but wooden walls and timber above.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you come to yourself, to know where -you was at last.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> By the law, dear shoy, I scratched my head in a -hundred parts, and then set me down to think upon it, so I -minded it was my wife that was dead, and not me, and that I -was alive in the young post boat, with the fellows that carries -over English meal from the Irish milns.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then, Pady, I am sure yon was glad when you -found yourself alive?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I was very sure I was alive, but I -did not think to live long, so I thought it was better for me -to steal and be hanged, than to live all my days, and die -directly with hunger at last.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What, had you no meat nor money along with you?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I gave all the money to the captain -of the house or gudeman of the ship, to carry me into the sea, -or over to England, and when I was like to eat my old brogues -for want of victuals, I drew my hanger and cut their leather -sack thinkin’ to get a lick of their meal; but allelieu, dear -shoy, I found nothing, meal nor seeds, but a parcel of papers -and letters, a poor morsel indeed for a hungry man.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then Pady you laid down your honesty for nothing.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, ay, I was a great theif, but got nothing to steal.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how did you come to get victuals at last?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Allelieu, dear honey, the thoughts of meat and drink, -death and life, and every thing else, was out of my mind, I -had not a thought but one.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what was that Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> To go down among the fishes and become a whale; -then I would have lived an easy life all my days, having nothing -to do but drink salt water, and eat caller oysters.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What Pady, was you like to be drowned again?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, ay, drowned, as cleanly drowned as a fish, for -the sea blew very loud, and the wind ran so high, that we were -all cast away safe on shore, and not one of us drowned at all.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And where did you go when you came on shore?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I was not able to go any where, -you might cast a knot on my belly, I was so hollow in my -middle so I went into a gentleman’s house and told him the -bad fortune I had of being drowned between Ireland and the -foot of his garden; where we came all safe ashore. But all -the comfort I got from him was a word of truth.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what was that Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Why he told me if I had been a good boy at home: -I needed not to have gone so far to push my fortune with an -empty pocket; to which I answered, and what magnifies that, -as long as I am a good workman at no trade at all.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I suppose, Pady, the gentleman would make you -dine with him?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> I really thought I was, when I saw them roasting -and skinning so many black chickens which was nothing but -a few dead crows they were going to eat; ho, ho, said I, them -is but dry meat at the best, of all the fowls that flie, commend -me to the wing of an ox: but all that came to my share, was -a piece of boiled herring and a roasted potatoe, that was the -first bit of bread I ever eat in England.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well, Pady, what business did you follow after in -England, when you was so poor?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> What sir, do you imagine I was poor when I came -over on such an honourable occasion as to list, and bring -myself to no preferment at all. As I was an able bodied man -in the face, I thought to be made a brigadeer, a grandedeer, -or a fuzeleer, or even one of them blew gowns that holds the -fiery stick to the bung-hole of the big cannons, when they let -them off, to fright away the French; I was as sure as no man -alive ere I came from Cork, the least preferment I could get, -was to be riding-master to a regiment of marines, or one of -the black horse itself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span></p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well Pady, you seem to be a very clever man, to be -all in one body, what height are you?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I am five foot nothing, all but one -inch.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And where in England was it you listed?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I was going through that little -country village, the famous city of Chester, the streets was -very sore by reason of the hardness of my feet, and lameness -of my brogues, so I went but very slowly a-cross the -streets, from port to port is a pretty long way, but I being -weary thought nothing of it: then the people came all crowding -to me as I had been a world’s wonder, or the wandering -Jew: For the rain blew in my face, and the wind wetted all -my belly, which caused me to turn the backside of my coat -before, and my buttons behind, which was a good safeguard to -my body, and the starvation of my naked back: as I had not -a good shirt.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> I am sure then, Pady, they would take you for a fool?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> No, no, sir, they admired me for my wisdom, for I -always turned my buttons before, when the wind blew on -behind, but I wondered greatly how the people knew my -name, and where I came from: for every one told another, -that was Pady from Cork: I suppose they knew my face by -seeing my name in the newspapers.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Well, Pady, what business did you follow in Chester?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> To be sure I was not idle, working at nothing at all, -until a decruiting sergeant came to town with two or three -fellows along with him, one beating on a fiddle, and another -playing on a drum, tossing their airs thro’ the street, as if they -were going to be married: and I saw them courting none but -young men; so to bring myself to no preferment at all, I listed -for a soldier because I was too high for a grandedeer.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what listing money did you get, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I got five thirteens and a pair of -English brogues; the guinea and the rest of the gold was sent -away to London, to the King my master, to buy me new -shirts, a cockade, and common treasing for my hat, they made<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -me swear the malicious oath of devilrie against the King, the -colours, and my captain, telling me if ever I desert and not -run away, that I should be shot, and then whipt to death, -through the regiment.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> No Pady: it is first whipt and then shot you mean.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, it is all one thing at last, but it is -best to be shot and then whipt, the cleverest way to die, I’ll -warrant you.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> How much pay did you get, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Do you know the little tall fat seargeant that feed -me to be a soldier?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how should I know them I never saw, you fool?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Dear shoy, you may know him whether you see him -or not! for his face is all bored in big holes with the small -pox, his nose is the colour of a lobster-toe, and his chin like a -well washen potatoe: he’s the biggest rogue in our kingdom, -you’ll know him when he cheats you, and the wide world; -and another mark, he dights his mouth before he drinks, and -blows his nose before he takes a snuff; the rogue height me -sixpence a day, kill or no kill: and when I laid Sunday and -Saturday both together, and all the days in one day, I can’t -make a penny above fivepence of it.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> You should have kept an account, and asked your -arrears once a month.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> That’s what I did, but he read a paternoster, out of -his prayer book, wherein all our names are written; so much -for a stop-hold to my gun, to bucklers, to a pair of comical -harn-hose, with leather buttons from top to toe; and worst of -all, he would have no less than a penny a week to a doctor; -arra, said I, I never had a sore finger nor yet a sick toe, all -the days of my life, then what have I to do with the doctor, -or the doctor to do with me?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And did he make you pay all these things?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Ay, ay, pay and better pay; he took me before his -captain, who made me pay all was in his book. Arra, master -captain, said I, you are a comical sort of a fellow now, you -might as well make me pay for my coffin before I be dead, as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -to pay for a doctor before I be sick; to which he answered in -a passion, sirra, said he, I have seen many a better man -buried without a coffin: sir, said I, then I’ll have a coffin, die -when I will, if there be as much wood in all the world, or I -shall not be buried at all. Then he called for the sergeant, -saying, you, sir, go and buy that man’s coffin, and put it in the -store till he die, and stop sixpence a week off his pay for it: -No, no, sir, said I, I’ll rather die without a coffin; and seek -none when I’m dead; but if you are for clipping another sixpence -off my poor pay, keep it all to yourself, and I’ll swear -all your oaths of agreement we had back again, and then seek -soldiers where you will.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O then Pady, how did you end the matter?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear shoy, by the mights of shaint Patrick -and help of my own brogues, I both ended it, and mended it, -for the next night before that, I gave them leg bail for my -fidelity, and then went about the country a fortune-teller, -dumb and deaf as I was not.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> How old was you Pady when you was a soldier last?</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> Arra, dear honey, I was three dozen all but two, and -it is only but two years since, so I want only four years of -three dozen yet, and when I live six dozen more, I’ll be older -than I am, I’ll warrand you.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O but Pady, by your account, you are three dozen -of years old already.</p> - -<p><em>Teag.</em> O what for a big fool are you now Tom, when you -count the years I lay sick; which time I count no time at all.</p> - - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-IV"> -<h3>A NEW CATECHISM, &c.</h3> -</div> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Of all the opinions professed in religion tell me now, -Pady, of what profession art thou?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, my religion was too weighty a -matter to carry out of my own country: I was afraid that you -English Presbyterians should pluck it away from me.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What, Pady, was your religion such a load that you -could not carry it along with you?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Yes, that it was, but I carried it always about with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -me when at home, my sweet cross upon my dear breast, bound -to my dear button hole.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what manner of worship did you perform by -that?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Why I adored my cross, the pope, and the priest, -cursed Oliver, as black as a crow, and swears myself a cut throat -against all Protestants and church of Englandmen.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what is the matter but you would be a church -of Englandman, or a Scotch Presbyterian yourself, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Because it is unnatural for an Irishman, but had -shaint Patrick been a Presbyterian, I had been the same.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And for what reason would you be a Presbyterian -then, Pady?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Because they have a liberty to eat flesh in lent, and -every thing that’s fit for the belly.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What, Pady, are you such a lover of flesh that you -would change your profession for it?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> O yes, that’s what I did, I love flesh of all kinds, -sheep’s beef, swine’s mutton, hare’s flesh, and hen’s venison; -but our religion is one of the hungriest in all the world, ah! -but it makes my teeth to weep, and my belly to water, when -I see the Scotch Presbyterians and English churchmen, in -time of lent, feeding upon bull’s bastards, and sheep’s young -children.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> Why Pady, do you say the bull is a fornicator, and -gets bastards?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I never saw the cow and her husband, -all the days of my life, nor before I was born, going to -the church to be married, and what then can his sons and -daughters be but bastards?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> O Pady, Pady, the cow is but a cow, but and so are -you: but what reward will you get when you are dead, for -punishing your belly so while you are alive?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> By shaint Patrick I’ll live like a king when I’m -dead, for I will neither pay for meat nor drink.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What, Pady, do you think that you are to come alive -again when you are dead?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> O yes, we that are true Roman Catholicks we will -live a long time after we are dead; when we die in love with -the priests, and the good people of our profession.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what assurance can your priests give you of that?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, our priest is a great shaint, and a -good shoul, who can repeat a patter-noster, and Ave Maria, -which will fright the very horned devil himself and make him -run for it, until he be like to fall and break his neck.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what does he give you when you are dying that -makes you come alive again?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Why he writes a letter upon our tongues, sealed -with a wafer, gives us a sacrament in our mouth, with a pardon, -and direction in our right-hand, who to call for at the ports -of Purgatory?</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And to whom do they direct the dead?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Why the English Romans when they die are all directed -to shaint George, the Scots to shaint Andrew, the Welch -to shaint David, and our own dear countrymen must every -shoul of them go to shaint Patrick, but them that have no money -to pay the priest for a pardon, or those that are drown’d or -die by themselves in the fields without a priest, is lost, and -sent away as black-guard scoundrels, to wander up and down -while the world stands, among the brownies, fairies, mermaids, -sea-devils, and water kelpies.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what money design you to give the priests for -your pardon?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Dear shoy, I wish I had first the money he would -take for it, I would rather drink it myself, and then give him -both my bill and my honest word, payable in the other world.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And how then are you to get a passage to the other -world, or who is to carry you there?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> O my dear shoy, Tom, you know nothing of the -matter; for, when I die, they will bury my body, flesh, blood, -dirt and bones, only my skin will be blown up full of wind -and spirit, my dear shoul I mean; and then I will be blown -over to the other world, on the wings of the wind; and after -that I shall never be kill’d hang’d nor drowned, nor yet die<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -in my bed, for when any hits me a blow, my new body will -play buff upon it like a bladder.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> But what way will you go to the new world, or -where is it?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, the priest knows where it is, but I -do not, but the Pope of Rome keeps the outer-port, shaint -Patrick the inner-port, and gives us a direction of the way to -shaint Patrick’s palace, which stands on the head of the -Stalian-loch, where I’ll have no more to do but chap at the -gate.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What is the need for chapping at the gate, is it not -always open?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Dear Shoy, you know little about it, for there is -none can enter in but red-hot Irishmen, for when I call, “Allelieu, -dear honey, shaint Patrick countenance your own dear countryman -if you will.” Then the gates will be opened directly to me, -for he knows and loves an Irishman’s voice, as he loves his -own heart.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what entertainment will you get when you are in?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> O my dear, we are all kept there until a general -review, which is commonly once in the week; and then we are -drawn up, like as many young recruits, and all the black-guard -scoundrels is pickt out of the ranks, and one half of them is -sent away to the Elysian fields, to curry the weeds from -among the potatoes, the other half of them to the river Sticks, -to catch fishes for shaint Patrick’s table; and all them that is -owing the priests any money, is put in the black hole, and then -given into the hands of a great black bitch of a devil which -they keep for a hangman, who whips them up and down the -smoaky dungeon every morning for six months, then holds -their bare back-side to a great fire, until their hips be all in one -blister, and after all, they are sent away to the poor parish of -Pig-trantum, where they get nothing to eat but cold sowens, -burgue, and butter-milk.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And where does your good people go when they are -separated from the bad?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> And where would you have them to go, but unto<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -shaint Patrick’s palace, and then they may go down the back -stairs into the garden of Eden, now called Paradise: ah! my -dear shoy, this is the real fundamental truths of our Romish -Religion, and a deep doctrine it is, but your Presbyterians and -English churchmen will not believe it, and, by shaint Patrick, -neither can I, until I see more of it come to pass.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> And what manner of life does your priest ordain you -to live in the world to come?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, if I had money enough to buy -pardons from our priest, I might commit all the lies forbidden -in the holy books, as he gives them a toleration to lie and -cheat all the world, but those of our own profession.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What, Pady, are you not to do as much justice to a -Protestant as a Papist?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> O my dear shoy, the most justice we are commanded -to do to a Protestant, is to whip and torment them until they -confess themselves in the Romish Faith, and then cut their -throats that they may die believers.</p> - -<p><em>Tom.</em> What business do you follow after at present?</p> - -<p><em>Pady.</em> Arra, dear shoy, I am a mountain sailor, and my -supplication is as follows,</p> - - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-V"> -<h3 class="fs80">PADY’S HUMBLE PETITION, OR SUPPLICATION.</h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Good Christian people behold me a man! who has com’d -thro’ a world of wonders, a hell full of hardships, dangers -by sea, and dangers by land, and yet I am alive, you may see -my hand crooked like a fowl’s foot, and that is no wonder at -all, considering my sufferings and sorrows: Oh! oh! oh! -good people I was a man in my time who had plenty of the -gold, plenty of the silver, plenty of the clothes, plenty of the -butter, the beer, beef, and bisket. And now, now I have -nothing: being taken by the Turks and relieved by the -Spaniards, lay sixty-six days at the siege of Gibraltar, and -got nothing to eat but sea wreck and raw mussels; then put -to sea for our safety, cast upon the Barbarian coast among the -woful wicked Algerines, where we were taken, and tied with -tugs and tadders, horse-locks and cow-chains: then cut and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -custrate yard and testicles quite away, if you will not believe, -put in your hand and feel how every female’s made smooth -by the sheer-bone, where nothing is to be seen but what is -natural. Then made our escape to the desert wild wilderness -of Arabia: where we lived amongst the wild asses, upon wind, -sand, and sapless ling. Afterwards put to sea in the hull of an -old house; where we was tossed above and below the clouds, -being driven thro’ thickets and groves by fierce, coarse, -calm and contrary winds; at last, was cast away upon Salisbury -plains, where our vessel was dash’d to pieces against a -cabbage-stock. And now my humble petition to you good -Christian people is, for one hundred of your beef, one hundred -of your butter, another of your cheese, a cask of your bisket, -a tun of your beer, a keg of your rum, with a pipe of your -wine, a lump of your gold, a piece of your silver, a few of your -halfpence or farthings, a waught of your butter-milk, a pair -of your old breeches, stockings, or shoes, even a chaw of -tobacco for charity’s sake.</p> - - -<div class="chapter" id="tcs-VI"> -<h3 class="fs80">A CREED FOR ROMISH BELIEVERS.</h3> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">I believe the Pope of Rome, to be the right heir and true -successor of Peter the Apostle, and that he has a power above -all the kings of the world, being spiritual and temporal; endowed -with a communication from beyond the grave, and can -bring up any departed shoul<a id="FNanchor_169" href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a> he pleases, even as the -woman of Endor brought up Samuel to Saul, by the -same power he can, assisted by the enchantments -of old Manasseh, a king in Israel. I believe also in the Romish -priests that they are very civil chaste gentlemen, keep no -wives of their own, but partake a little of other men’s, when -in secret confession. I acknowledge the worshipping of images -and relicks of shaints departed to be very just; but if they -hear us and not help us, O they are but a parcel of ungrateful -wretches.</p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="SIMPLE_JOHN_AND_HIS_TWELVE"><em>SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE -MISFORTUNES.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[‘The Comical History of Simple John, and his Twelve Misfortunes; which -happened all in twelve Days after the unhappy Day of his Marriage. Giving a particular -account of his Courtship and Marriage to a Scolding Wife; which has been -a mortifying Misery to many a poor Man.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">O Sirs will you see,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What it is to married be!</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Glasgow: Printed for the Company of Flying Stationers, in Town and country. -<span class="allsmcap">MDCCLXXX</span>.’ Such is the full title of the edition here used. It has been with the -following editions:—‘Edinburgh: printed for the booksellers, 1823’; and ‘Stirling: -printed by William Macnie, and sold wholesale and retail, 1823’; and also with -the modern Glasgow one.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2 center">THE COMICAL HISTORY OF -SIMPLE JOHN AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">Simple John was a widow’s son, and a coarse country weaver -to his trade; he made nothing but such as canvas for caff-beds, -corn and coal-sacks, druggit and harn was the finest -webs he could lay his fingers to; he was a great lump of a lang -lean lad, aboon sax fit high afore he was aughteen year auld, -and as he said himsel he grew sae fast and was in sic a hurry -to be high, that he did not stay to bring a’ his judgment wi’ -him, but yet he hoped it would follow him, and he would -meet wi’t as mony a are does after they’re married; he had -but ae sister, and she had as little sense as himsel, she was -married on Sleeky Willy, the wylie weaver, his mither was a -rattling rattle-scul’d wife, and they lived a’ in ae house, and -every body held them as a family of fools. When John came -to man’s state, to the age of twenty-one years, he tell’d his -mither he would hae a wife o’ some sort, either young or auld, -widow or lass, if they had but head and hips, tongue and tail, -he shou’d tak them, and weel I wat mither, quoth he, they’ll -get a lumping penny-worth o’ me, get me wha will.</p> - -<p>His mither tells him o’ the black butcher on Ti’ot-side, who -had three dochters, and every ane of them had something, -there was Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had hunder merks the piece, -Kate and Ann had both bastards. Girzy the eldest had a -hump back, a high breast, baker legs, a short wry neck, -thrawn mouth, and goggle ey’d, a perfect Æsop of the female -kind, with as many crooked conditions within as without, a -very lump of loun-like ill nature, row’d a’ together, as if she -had been nine months in a haggies, a second edition of crooked -backed Richard an old English king, that was born wi’ teeth -to bite a’ round about him; and yet the wight gaed mad to -be married.</p> - -<p>John’s mother tell’d him the road where to go, and what to -say, and accordingly he sets out wi’ his sunday’s coat on, and -a’ his braws, and a pair o’ new pillonian breeks o’ his mither’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -making. In he comes and tell’d his errand before he would -sit down, says good day to you goodman, what are you a’ -doing here? I am wanting a wife, an’ ye’re a flesher and has -a gude sorting aside you, my mither says ye can sair me or -ony body like me, what say ye till’t goodman, how mony -dochters hae ye? are they a’ married yet? I fain wou’d tak a -look o’ some o’ them gin ye like.</p> - -<p>A wow said the goodwife come in by honest lad and rest -you, an ye be a wooer sit down an gi’s a snuff; a deed goodwife -I hae nae mill but my mither’s, and it’s at hame. A -whar win ye, I’se no ken ye; I wat quoth he, my name’s -Jock Sandeman, they ca’ me simple John the sack weaver, -I hae nae tocher but my loom, a pirn wheel, a kettle pat, a -brass pan, twa piggs, four cogs and a candlestick, a good cock, -a cat, two eerocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is -married on sleeky Willie the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a -hagwife or my mither die, for truly she’s very frail, and ony -harle o’ health she has is about dinner-time; what say ye -till’t, goodman? can ye buckle me or no?</p> - -<p>Goodman. A dear John ye’re in an unco haste, ye wadna -hae you’re wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a’ there before ye, which -o’ them will ye tak?</p> - -<p>Hout tout says John, ony o’ them ’ill sare me, but my -mither says there’s twa o’ them has fauts: and what is their -fauts said the goodwife, hout said John, it’s no meikle faut, -but I dinna like it, they got men or they were married. And -what shall I do wi’ them said the goodman.</p> - -<p>John. A deed goodman as ye’re ay dealing among dead -beasts and living beasts, I wad put them awa amang ither -beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let some body tak them -up o’ desperate debt, I sud flay the sikes frae them, they -anger’d you an’ sham’d you baith wi’ their bastards, a wheen -daft jades it gets men or they be married, and bairns or they -get bridals.</p> - -<p>Goodwife. A wat weel that’s true lad.</p> - -<p>Girzy. A weel John than, will ye tak me, I hae nae -bastards, how will you and I do?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span></p> - -<p>John. I watna gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may -hae some war faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth for ye’re -unco little, and I’m o’er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance -cairded thro’ ither, we may get bonny weans o’ a midlen -mak; I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a hump -back, a short neck, and high shoulders, the hands and legs -may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee bit to the tae side it will -ly well to the rock and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, will be -baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my sonsy dauty up and -down; a perfect beauty, wi’ cats yellow een, black brows and -red lips, and your very nose is a purpey colour, ye hae nae -fauts at a’: now whan will we be married.</p> - -<p>Girzy. Ha, ha, John lad, we maun think on that yet.</p> - -<p>John. What the yeltow lass, shoudna ye be ready whan -I’m ready, and every body says that the women’s aye ready.</p> - -<p>Goodman. Ye’ll hae to come back and bring somebody -wi’ you, and we’ll gree about it, and set the day whan ye’ll be -married.</p> - -<p>John. A well goodman I’ll tell my mither o’t, and come -back on munonday, and we’ll hae a chappin o’ ale and roasted -cheese on the gude chance o’t, but I maun hae a word o’ the -bride outby to convoy me, an a quiet speak to hersel about it.</p> - -<p>Good wife. A wow na John, the daft louns will laugh at -you, and she’ll think shame, gang ye out by and she’ll speak -to you thro’ the gavel window.</p> - -<p>Out goes John, and the bride and her twa sisters goes to -the window within to hear the diversion, and what he would -say; now says John, Girzy my dear, my braw pretty woman, -an ye be in earnest tell me, for by my suthe I’m no scorning.</p> - -<p>Girzy. Indeed John I’m very willing to tak you, but ye -need na tell every body about it.</p> - -<p>John. Then gi’ me a kiss on that? He shutes his head in -at the window, making a lang neck to win down to her, and -she stood on a little stool to win up to him, O cries he, an -ye were good flesh I could eat you a’ I like you sae well, it’s a -pity there is sic a hard wa’ a ’tween us, I’se tell my mither sae -bonny as ye’re: O gi’ me anither kiss yet an then I’ll go;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -one of her sisters standing by in a dark corner, get’s ha’d of a -cow’s head which wanted a’ the skin but about the mouth, -and shutes it towards his mouth, which he kiss’d in the dark, -O cry’d he, but your mouth be cauld since I kiss’d ye last, and -I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that afore, or is’t wi’ spinning -tow that maks your mouth sae rough at e’en?</p> - -<p>Hame he comes, and tells his mither the speed and properties -of the marriage; a’ things was got ready, and next week -sleeky Willy the weaver and him came to gree the marriage -and stay a’ night wi’ the bride, and teach John gude manners, -for whan John was hungry he minded his meat more than his -gude behaviour, and as he never was fu’ till the dish was tume, -Willy the weaver was to tramp on his fit when he thought he -had supped enough; so all things being agreed upon short -and easy terms and the wedding day sett, they were to be -three times cry’d on Sunday and quietly married on Munonday, -neither piper nor fidler to be employ’d, but sweith awa’ hame -frae the minister, and into the bed amang the blankets, ha, -ha, cries John, that’s the best o’t a’.</p> - -<p>Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper -was brought, a large fat haggies, the very smell would done -a hungry body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups -until are of the butcher’s meikle dogs tramped on John’s fit, -which he took to be the weaver, and then he would sip no more; -after supper they went to bed, John and the weaver lay together, -and then he abused the weaver for tramping sae soon -which he denied; but O, said John, there’s a hantle o’t left, -and I saw where it was set, they’re a’ sleeping, I’ll go rise and -tak a soup o’t yet, ay een do sae said Sleeky Willy, and -bring a soup to me too; away then John goes to the amry -and lays to the haggies, till his ain haggies cou’d had nae -mair, then brings the rest to Sleeky Willy, but instead of -going to the bed whare he was, goes to the bed whare the -bride and her twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks -slowly, will ye tak it, will ye tak it, but they making no -answers, he turns up the blankets to put a soup into Willy’s -mouth, but instead of doing so, he puts a great spoonful close<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> -into one of their backsides, Sleeky Willy hears all that past, -comes out o’ the bed, and sups out the remainders, and sets up -the dish whare it was, leaves the amry door open to let the -cats get the blame of supping the haggies, and awa’ they goes -to bed, but poor John cou’d get nae sleep for drouth, up he -gets in search of the water can, and finding an empty pitcher, -puts in his hand to find if there was any water in it, but -finding none, he closed his hand when it was within the -pitcher, and then could not get it out, goes to the bed and -tells Sleeky Willy what had happened him, who advised him -to open the door and go out to a knocking-stane that stood -before the door, and break it there to get out his hand, and -not to mak a noise in the house, so out he goes, but the -bride’s sister who had gotten the great spoonful of the haggies -laid to her backside was out before him, rubbing the nastiness -(as she took it to be) off the tail of her sark, and she being in -a louting posture, he took her for the knocking-stane, and -comes o’er her hurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces -about her, then off she runs wi’ the fright, round a turf stack -and into the house before him; John comes in trembling to -the bed again wi’ the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic -a knocking stane he never saw, for it ran clean awa’ when he -brake the pigg upon it.</p> - -<p>Now John was furnished in a house by his Father-in-law, the -bed, loom, heddles, treadles, thrums, reeds and pirn-wheel -was a’ brought and set up, before the marriage, which was kept -as a profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain -wife, and his ain house a’ at ae time: So on the next morning -after the marriage, John and his wife made up some articles, -how they were to work, and keep house, John was to keep -the house in meat, meal, fire, and water; Girzy was to mak -the meat and keep the house in clothes, the Father-in-law to -pay their rent for three years, they were to hae no servants, -until they had children, and the first child was to be a John -after its ain Daddy, get it wha will, if a boy, and if a girl, -Girzy after its ain Minny, as he said, wha had wrought best for’t.<a id="FNanchor_170" href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span></p> - -<p>I. Then she ordered John to rise and begin his work, by -putting on a fire, and take the twa new piggs and gang to the -well, no sooner had John opened the door, and gone out with -a pigg in every hand, than a’ the boys and girls being -gathered in a croud to see him, gave a loud huzza, and clapping -their hands at him, poor John not knowing what it -meant, thought it was fine sport, began to clap his hands too, -and not minding the two piggs, clashes the tane against the -tither, till baith went in pieces, and that was a chearful huzza, -to baith young and auld that was looking at him. Girzel the -wife draws him into the house, and to him she flies with the -wicked wife’s wapons, her Tongue and Tangs, made his ribbs -to crack, saying, They tell’d me ye was daft, but I’ll ding the -daffing out o’ ye, I’ll begin wi’ ye as I’m amind to end wi’ -ye; poor John sat crying and clawing his lugs. Ha, ha, said -he, its nae bairns play to be married, I find that already; -his Mither-in-law came in and made up peace, went to a -cooper, and got them a big wooden stoup to carry in their -water.</p> - -<p>II. Next morning John was sent to the flesh-market an -errand to his Father-in-law, who gave him a piece of flesh to -carry home, and as he was coming out of the market, he saw -six or seven of the fleshers-dogs fall on and worry at a poor -country colley dog, Justice, justice, cries John to the dogs, -ye’re but a wheen unmannerly raskel’s, that fa’s a on ae poor -beast, heth ye sude a’ be put in the toubooth, and tane to the -bailies, and hang’d for the like o’ that, it’s perfect murder, and -in he runs amongst the dogs, and be hang’d to you a’ the-gither, -What is the quarrel? What is the quarrel? John -flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips the colley, -who took John for an enemy too, and bites his hands, till the -blood followed, the whole of the tykes comes on a poor John, -till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one of -the dogs runs off with his flesh, so John went hame both dirty -and bloody without his flesh, tell’d Girzy how it happened,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -who applied her old plaister, her tangs and tongue, made -John to curse the very minister that married them, and wished -he might never do a better turn.</p> - -<p>III. Next morning, John was sent to the well with the -great stoup to bring in water for breakfast, and as he was -pulling the stoup out of the well, in he tumbles, and his head -down, the well being narrow, he you’d na win out, some people -passing, by chance heard the slunge, cried, and runs to his -relief, hail’d him out half dead, and helped him into the house, -and after getting a dry sark, he was comforted with the old -plaister, her tongue and the hard tangs.</p> - -<p>IV. Next day, she says, John, I must go to the market -myself, for if you go, you’ll fight wi’ the dogs, and let them -run awa’ wi’ ony thing ye buy, see that ye put on the pot, and -hae’t boiling again I come hame; John promised well, but -performs very badly, she’s no sooner gone, than he puts on -the new pot without any water in it, and a good fire to make -it boil, and away he goes to the unhappy well, fills his stoup -and sets it down, to look at a parcel of boys playing at Cat -and Dog, they perswades John to take a game wi’ them, on he -plays till are o’ the boys cries, hy John, yonder’s your Girzy -coming. John runs into the house wi’ the water, and the pot -being red hot on the fire, he tumes in the cold water into it, -which made the pot flee all in pieces, just as she was entering -the door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying, -haud the thief, some persons stop’d him, she comes up, and -then she laboured him all the way home, and he crying, O sirs, -ye see what it is to be married; the Mither-in-law had to -make up a peace again, and he promised good behaviour in -time to come.</p> - -<p>V. On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash -some cows puddings, and turn them on a spindle, showing -him how he was to do or he went away; John goes to the -water very willingly, and as he turn’d and wash’d them, he -laid them down behind him, where one of his Father-in-law’s -big dogs stood, and ate them up as fast as he laid them down -till all was gone but the very last one, which he carried home<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -in his hand, crying like a child, and underwent a severe tost -of the old plaister, before any mercy was shown.</p> - -<p>VI. His Father-in-law next day sent him away to bring -home a fat calf he had bought in the country, and tied up the -money in a napkin, which he carried in his hand for fear he -should lose it, being very weighty as it was all in halfpence, -and as he was going alongst a bridge, he meets a man running -after a horse, who cries to John to stop the horse, John meets -him on the top of the bridge, and when he wou’d not be -stopped for him, he knocks the horse on the face wi’ the napkin -and the money, so the napkin broke and most of the half-pence -flew over the bridge in the water, which made poor -John go home crying very bitterly for his loss, and dread of -the auld plaister which he got very sickerly.</p> - -<p>VII. On the next morning, she sent him again to the -bridge to see if he you’d find any of it in the water, and there -he found some ducks sweeming, and ducking down with their -heads below the water, as he thought gathering up his money -he kills one of them and rips her up, but found none of it in -her guts or gabbie, then says he, they have been but looking -for it, I’ll go do as they did, strips off his clothes and leaves -them on the bridge, goes in a ducking, in which time a rag -man came past and took away all his clothes, so he went -home naked to get a bath of the old plaister.</p> - -<p>VIII. The next morning she sent him to a farm house for -a piggful of butter milk, and as he was returning through the -fields the farmer’s bull and anither bull was fighting, the farmer’s -bull being like to lose, John runs in behind him and -sets his head to the bull’s tail, in purpose to help him to push -against the other, but the poor bull thought John was some -other bull attacking him behind, fled aside, and the other bull -came full-drive upon John, pushed him down, broke the pigg -and spilt the milk, so John went home to his auld plaister, -which began to be an usual diet to him, and so he regarded it -the less.</p> - -<p>IX. His Mother-in-law with several auld witty wives held -a private counsel on John’s conduct and bad luck, and con<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>cluded -he was bewitched, John was of the same opinion, and -went to the minister, and told him he was the cause of a’ his -misfortunes, ca’d him a warlock to his face, and said, he had -put such a black bargain in his hand, that he was ruin’d for -ever; insisted either to unmarry them again, or send death -and the bell-man to take her awa’, for she has a lump of -mischief on her back and anither on her breast, and the rest -of her body is a clean deil. The minister began to exhort -him to peace and patience, telling him that marriage was -made in heaven: ye’re a baist liar, says John, for I was married -in your ain kitchen, an a’ the blackguards about the -town was there, an it had a-been heaven they wadna win in, -yet tell’t me that matrimony was sic a happy state, but an ye -had gotten as mony we’ll paid skins as I hae gotten, ye wad -ken what it is; ill chance on you stir, and out he goes, cursing -like a madman, throwing stanes, and breaking the minister’s -windows, for which he was catch’d and put twa hours i’ the -stocks, and at last his Lump of Corruption came and rubbed -his lugs, threw his nose, got him out, and drove him home -before her; took a resolution never to set him about any -bisiness in time coming, but keep him on his loom.</p> - -<p>X. Now she giving him no sleep a’ that night for scolding; -John got up in the morning lang or day, leaving his tormentor -in bed; fell asleep upon his loom with his candle in his hand, -and so set the web, heddles, reed, and treadle cords in a fire, -by chance his old Viper looked out of the bed, or the whole -house had been gone; up she got, and with her cries alarm’d -the neighbourhood who came to her relief, but poor John -underwent a dreadful swabing for this.</p> - -<p>XI. After the former hurry and beating being over, his -work being stopt, he went to bed and sleept a’ that day, and -following night, on the next day having nothing to do; she -sent him in search of a hen’s-nest, who had taken some by-place -to lay her eggs in, so as poor John was in an auld kill -searching a’ about the walls, the kill-ribs brake, and down he -goes with a vengeance into the logie cutted and bruised himself -in a terrible manner, up he could not win, but had to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -creep out at the logie below, scarcely able to get hame, his face -and nose a’ running o’ blood, in this condition she pitied and -lamented for him very much, tied his sores and laid him in -bed, then sat down very kindly, saying, My dear and my -lamb, do ye think there is ony o’ your banes broken, and what -part o’ you is sairest? And what will I get to do you good? -O! said he Girzy I’m a brizel’d atween the feet; Are ye indeed -quoth she, then I wish ye had broken your neck, that I might -a gotten anither, useless ae way, and useless mae ways, a po’ -my word, ye’s no be here, gang whar ye like.</p> - -<p>XII. Now, as poor John was turn’d out o’ doors next morning, -to go awa’ hirpling on a staff, one came and told him his -Mother had died last night, Oh hoch, said John, and is my -Mither clean dead; O an she wad but look down thro’ the lift, -and see how I’m guided this morning, I’m sure she wad send -death for me too: I’m out o’ a mither, and out o’ a wife, out o’ -my health and strength and a’ my warklooms. His mother-in-law -came and pleaded for him: haud your tongue, mither, said -Girzy, if ye kend what ail’d him, ye wadna speak about him, -he’s useless, no worth the keeping in a house, but to ca’ him to -die like an auld beast at a dyke-side, hout tout, co’ the auld wife, -we’ll mak o’ him and he’ll mend again: so John got peace -made up after a’, and he was easier mended than the burnt -web; got all his treadles and warklooms set in order the -wife’s tongue excepted, which was made of wormwood, and -the rest of her body of sea-water, which is always in a continual -tempest.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>So John appeals to a Jedburgh jury, if it be not easier to -deal wi’ fools, than headstrong fashous fouks; owns he has but -an empty scull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment -into it, never tells him o’ danger till it come upon him, -for his mother said, he was a bidable bairn, if ony body had -been to learn him wit.</p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_ANCIENT_AND_MODERN"><em>THE ANCIENT AND MODERN -HISTORY OF BUCK-HAVEN.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[This is one of the most valuable folk-lore chap-books ever issued from the press. -Its richness in this respect has attracted the attention of Professor Stephens of -Copenhagen, who gave some quotations from it in the second volume of <cite>The Folk-Lore -Record</cite>. The edition used here is from the library of Alexander Macdonald, -Esq., and bears the following on the title-page:—‘The Ancient and Modern -History of Buck-haven in Fife-shire. Wherein is contained, The Antiquities of their -old Dress. The Bucky-boat, with a flag of a green tree; with their dancing, -Willy and his trusty rapper. Their Burgess Ticket, with a view of their new -College: the noted sayings and exploits of Wise Willy in the Brae, Witty Eppie -the ale-wife, and Lingle-tail’d Nancy. By Merry Andrew at Tamtallon. Glasgow, -Printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1806.’ It is a 24 pp. 12mo, -and is illustrated by several rough woodcuts which had apparently done service in -other chap-books. The editor has carefully collated it with the following -editions:—One, undated, by Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh; another, also without -date, by Morren, but a different issue from the other, there being a change in -the illustrations; one published in 1817 by R. Hutchison & Co., 10 Saltmarket, -Glasgow; and an abridged one by M. Randall, Stirling (without date), with this -short title—‘The Exploits of Wise Willie, and Witty Eppie the Ale-Wife of -Buchaven.’ The three editions last mentioned, were courteously sent to the editor, -all the way from Copenhagen, by Professor Stephens. There is also a modern -Glasgow edition, greatly abridged, the text, as issued by Randall, having evidently -been used by its publishers.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="amh-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE HISTORY OF BUCK-HAVEN.</p> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent">Amongst several ancient records, this Bucky is not mentioned; -there was a set called Buccaniers, who were pirates, that is to -say sea-robbers, and after a strict search for that set of sea-robbers, -they dispersed; what of them escaped justice in the -southern climate, are said to have sheltered at or near Berwick -upon Tweed. After a smart battle, among themselves, they -divided, and ’tis said, the party who gained this Bucky-battle, -fearing the English law to take place, set northward and took -up their residence at this Buck-haven, so called not only from -the great quantity of Buckies that are found in and about that -place, but on account of the battle they had with their neighbours -at Berwick when they divided, which was then called -bucking one another, but is now named boxing or fighting. -Another party of these Buckers settled in another town northward -of Banff, called Bucky, near the river Spey, which is a -large sea-town, but among all the sea-towns in Scotland, the -fishers still retain a language, quite different from the people -in the country, and they almost all shift the letter H, and use -O, instead thereof which no country-people do in Scotland, -but themselves.<a id="FNanchor_171" href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> There is a corruption of speech, in every -county over all Britain, and likewise they use different tones -and pronouncing words from others, even some in the South of -Scotland, can hardly be understood by those in the North, -though both pretend to speak English, and have a liberal part -of education: but since learning is now so easy to be obtained, -ignorance and corruption of speech are greatly decreased.<a id="FNanchor_172" href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a></p> - -<p>In the county of Fife, on the sea-coast, there stands a little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -town, inhabited by few but fishers, called Bucky-harbour, because -of the sea buckies and shells to be found so plenty on the -rocks, in and about that place; there is little mention made of -this town by historians, to know its original extraction and -antiquities, but in their own burges-ticket, which was part of -it perfect truths, but more of it by way of lampoon; this -ticket was dated the two and thirty day of the month of Julius -Cæsar, their coat of arms was two hands gripping each other -over a Scate’s rumple, their oath was, “I wish the de’il may -tak me an I binna an honest man to you, an ye binna de like -to me.” An article of good neighbourhood they had, whoever -was first up in a good morning, was to raise all the rest to go -to sea, but if a bad morning, they piss and lie down again till -break of day then raise Wise Willy, who could judge of the -weather by the blowing of the wind.</p> - -<p>Their freedoms were to take all sorts of fish contained in -their tickets, viz., lobsters, partans, podles, spout-fish, sea-cats, -sea-dogs, flukes, pikes, dike-padocks, and p— fish.</p> - -<p>Among these people were said to be one Tom and his two -sons, who were fishers on the coast of Norway, and in a violent -storm were blown over, and got ashore at Bucky-harbour, -where they settled, and the whole of his children were called -Thomsons,<a id="FNanchor_173" href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a> this is a historical saying, handed down from one -generation to another. So in course of time they grew up and -multiplied, that they soon became a little town by themselves; -few of any other name dwelt among them, and were all called -the Thomsons; they kept but little communication with the -country people, for a farmer in those days thought his daughter -cast awa, if she married one of the fishers of Bucky-harbour,<a id="FNanchor_174" href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a> -and Witty Eppie the ale-wife, wad a sworn be-go laddie, I -wad rather see my boat and a’ my three sons dadet against -the Bass or I saw ony ane o’ them married on a muck-a-byre’s -daughter, a wheen useless taupies, that can do naething but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span> -rive at a tow-rock, and cut corn; they can neither bait a hook -nor red a line, hook sandles nor gather periwinkles.</p> - -<p>Now Wise Willy and Witty Eppie the ale-wife lived there, -about an hundred years ago. Eppie’s chamber was their -college and court-house, where they decided their controversies, -and explained their wonders, for the house was wide like a -little kirk, had four windows and a gavel-door, the wives got -leave to flyte their fill, but fighting was forbidden, (as Eppie -said, up hands was fair play) their fines, were a’ in pints o’ ale, -and Eppie sold it at a plack the pint; they had neither minister -nor magistrate, nor yet a burly-bailie to brag them wi’ his -tolbooth; my Lord was their landlord,<a id="FNanchor_175" href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> Wise Willy and Witty -Eppie the ale-wife were the rulers of the town.</p> - -<p>Now Eppie had a daughter, call’d Lingle-tail’d Nancy, because -of her feckless growth, her waist was like a twitter, had -nae curpen for a creel, being Embruch bred, and brought up -wi’ her Lowdin aunty, was learned to read and sew, make -corse-claiths and callico-mutches,<a id="FNanchor_176" href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a> there wasna scholar in the -town but hersel, she read the Bible and the book of Kirk-sangs -which was newly come in fashion, Willy and Eppie -tell’d ay what it meant, and said a’ the letters in it, was litted -by my Lord, for they saw him hae a feather that he dipped -in black water, and made crooked scores just like the same, and -then he spoke to it o’er again, and it tell’d him what to say.</p> - -<p>It happened on a day, that two of their wives found a horse-shoe -near the town, brought it hame, and sent for Wise Willy to -see what it was. Willy comes and looks at it, Indeed co’ Willy, -its a thing and holes in’t. Then said they, he would get a name -til’t, aha, co’ Willy, but whair did ye find it? aneath my -Lords ain house, Willy. Adeed, said Willy, its the auld moon, -I ken by the holes in’t for nailing it to the lift; but I wonder -it she fell in Fife, for the last time I saw her she was hinging on -her back aboon Embruch, a hech co’ Willy we’ll hae her set up on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -the highest house in the town, and we’ll hae moon-light o’ our -ain a’ the days o’ the year. The whole town ran to see the -moon; hout tout, cried Witty Eppie, ye’re a’ fools together, -it is but ane o’ the things it my Lord’s mare wears upo’ her -lufe.<a id="FNanchor_177" href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a></p> - -<p>At another time, one of the wives found a hare with its legs -broken, lying among her kail in the yard; she, not knowing -what it was, called out her neighbours to see it, some said it -was a gentleman’s cat, or my lady’s lap-dog, or a sheep’s -young kitlen, because it had saft horns; Na, na, cry’d Wise -Willy, its ane o’ the maukens, that gentlemen’s dogs worrie. -What will you do wi’t? haith co’ Maggy, I’ll singe the woo’ -afi’t, and mak fish and sauce o’t to my Tammy’s parrich: No, -no, said Witty Eppie, better gie’t to my Lord, and he’d stap -an iron stick thro’ the guts o’t, and gar’t rin round afore the -fire till it be roasted; Na, na, said Wise Willy, we’ll no do that -indeed, for my Lord wad mak us a’ dogs, an gar us rin thro’ -the kintry seeking maukins till him.</p> - -<p>It happened on a dark winter morning, that two of the -wives were going to Dysart to sell their fish, and near the road-side -there happened to be a tinker’s ass tedder’d, and the poor -ass seeing the wives coming with their creels, thought it was -the tinkers coming to flit or remove him, fell a crying, the two -wives threw their fish away, and ran home like mad persons, -crying, they had seen the de’il, aye the very horned de’il, an -that he had spoken to them, and cried after them, but they -did not ken what he said, for it was worse words than a Highlandman’s. -The whole town was in an uproar, some would go -with picks and spades and hag him a’ in pieces, others wad -gang and catch him in a strong net, and then they could either -hang or drown him. Na, na, co’ Wise Willy, we manna cast -out wi’ him at the first, as he’s gotten the twa burden o’ fish,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -he’ll ables gang his wa’ and no fash nae mair, he is o’er souple -to be catch’d in a net, a’ your pith ’ill neither hang him nor -drown him, an’ the kintry he comes frae is a’ het coals, he’ll -never burn, we’ll go to him in a civil manner, and see what he -wants: get out Eppie the ale-wife, and lingle-tail’d Nancy, -with the Bible and the Saum-book:<a id="FNanchor_178" href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> so aff they came in a -croud, either to kill the de’il or catch him alive, and as they -came near the place, the ass fell a crying, which caused many -of them to faint and run back: Na, na, co’ Willy, that’s no the -de’ils words ava’, it’s my Lord’s trumpeter touting on his brass -whistle, Willy ventured till he saw the ass’s twa lugs, now, -cried Willy back to the rest, come forward and hand him fast, -I see his twa horns, hech sirs, he has a white beard like an auld -beggar man, so they enclosed the poor ass on all sides thinking -it was the de’il: but when Wise Willy saw he had nae -cloven feet, he cried out, Fearna’ lads, this is no the de’il, it’s -some living beast, ’tis neither a cow nor a horse, and what is it -then Willy? Indeed co’ Willie, ’tis the father o’ a’ the maukens, -I ken by its lugs.</p> - -<p>Now some say, this is too satirical a history, but it is according -to the knowledge of those times, not to say in any place -by another, old wives tell us yet of many such stories, as the -devil appearing to their grandfathers and grandmothers, and -dead wives coming back again to visit their families, long after -their being buried: but this Bucky-haven which was once noted -for droll exploits, is now become more knowing, and is a place -said to produce the best and hardiest watermen or sailors of -any town on the Scots coast, yet many of the old people in it, -still retain the old tincture of their old and uncultivated speech, -as be-go-laddie, also a fiery nature, if you ask any of the wives -where their college stands, they’ll tell you, if your nose were -in their arse, your mouth would be at the door of it.</p> - -<p>Now, it happened, when Wise Willy turned old he took a -great swelling in his wame, and casting up o’ his kail, collops<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> -and cauld fish, that nothing staid on his stomach, and a stout -stomach had he, for crab-heads, or scate-brose, or fat-brose on a -bridal morning; yet it fail’d him; he fell sick, and none could -cure him, or tell what ail’d him, till a mountebank stage-doctor -came to Kirkcaldy, that could judge by people’s water, the -troubles of their person, and Willy hearing of his fame, pissed -into a bottle, and sent it away with his daughter; the bottle -being uncorked, his daughter spilt it by the way, and to conceal -her sloth in so doing, pissed in it herself, and on she goes, till she -comes to the stage, and cries, Sir Dochter, Sir Dochter, here is a -bottle o’ my father’s wash, he has a sair guts, and never needs -to drite ony, he spues a’ he eats, ’tis true I tell you my dow; -the doctor looks at it, and says, It is not your father’s, surely -it is your mother’s; de’il’s i’ the man, co’ she, divna I ken my -father by my mother? Then, said he, he is with child: A -de’il’s i’ the man co’ she, for my mother bore a’ de bairns before, -dat’s no true sir, a figs ye’re a great liar, home she came, -and tell’d Willy her father, that the doctor said he was wi’ -bairn. O waes me, co’ Willy, for I hae a muckle wame, and -I fear its o’er true, O plague on you Janet, for ye’re the father -o’t, and I’m sure to die in the bearing o’t. Witty Eppie was -sent for, as she was houdy, and fand a’ Willy’s wame, to be -sure about it, indeed co’ Eppie ye’re the first man e’er I saw -wi’ bairn before; and how ye’ll bear’t I dinna ken, ye hae a -wally wame, weel I wat, but how men bear bairns I never saw -them yet, but I would drink sa’t water and drown’t in my -guts, for an men get anes the gate o’ bearing weans themsells, -they’ll seek nae mae wives: so Willy drank sea-water till his -guts was like to rive, and out he goes to ease himself among -the kail, and with the terrible hurl of farting, up starts a -mauken behind him, thinking she was shot, Willy sees her -jumping o’er the dike, thought it was a child brought forth, -cries, Come back my dear and be christened, and no rin to the -hills and be a Pagan,<a id="FNanchor_179" href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> so Willy grew better every day thereafter,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -being brought to bed in the kail-yard: but his daughter -was brought to bed some months thereafter, which was the -cause of the doctor’s mistake.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="amh-II"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART II.</h3> -</div> - -<p>Now Wise Willie had a daughter, called Rolloching Jenny, -because she spoke thick, sax words at three times, half sense -and half nonsense, as her own words and actions will bear witness. -She being with child, was brought to bed of a bonnie -lass bairn: and a’ the wives in the town, cried, Be-go-laddie, -its just like its ain daddy, lang Sandy Tason (or Thomson) -we ken by its nose: for Sandy had a great muckle red nose -like a lobster-tae, bowed at the point like a hawk’s neb, and -Sandy himself said, that it was surely his or some ither body’s, -but he had used a’ his birr at the getting o’t, to fey his ability, -being the first time e’er he was at sic a business before, -and when he had done a’ that man could do at it, said, it was -nonsense and shamefa’ him, but he wad rather row his boat -round the Bass and back again, or he did the like again: For -Wise Willy gade wood at the wean, and said, it had mair ill -nature in’t, than the auldest wife about the town, it piss’d the -bed, and shute the bed, skirl’d like a wil-cat, and kept him frae -his night’s rest; and a’ the auld haggs about the town, ca’d -him Sandy de bairn’s daddy, and a’ the young gilly-gawkie -lasses, held out their fingers, and cried, Tie, hie, Sandy, the -kirk will kittle your hips for yon yet.</p> - -<p>And after a’, the blear-ein’d bell-man came bladdering -about the buttock-mail, summoned him and her before the -hally-band, a court that held in the kirk on Saturday -morning; and a’ the bred ladies<a id="FNanchor_180" href="#Footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a> round about, cried, Ay, ay,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -Sandy, pay the bill-siller, or we’ll cut the cow’s tail awa’, so -poor Sandy suffered sadly in the flesh, besides the penalty -and kirk-penance.</p> - -<p>But Wise Willy had pity upon them, and gade wi’ them to -the kirk-court, what learned folks call the session, Jenny was -first called upon, and in she goes where all the hally-band were -conveened, elders and youngers, deacons, and dog-payers -keeping the door, the cankerdest Carles that could be gotten -between Dysart and Dubby-side, white heads and bald heads -sitting wanting bonnets, wi’ their white headed staves and -hodden-grey jockey-coats about them.</p> - -<p>Mess John says, Come away Janet, we’re a’ waiting on you -here.</p> - -<p>Min. Now Janet, where was this child gotten? you must -tell plainly.</p> - -<p>Jan. A deed stir, it was gotten amang the black stanes, at -the cheek of the crab-holes.</p> - -<p>Mess John stares at her, not knowing the place but some -of the elders did; then said he, O Janet, but the de’il was busy -with you at that time.</p> - -<p>Jan. A by my fegs stir, that’s a great lie ye’re telling now, -for the de’il wasna thereabout, it I saw, nor nae body else, to -bid us do either ae thing or anither, we loo’d ither unco’ weel for -a lang time before that, and syne we tell’d ither, and agreed to -marry ither like ither honest fouk, than mightna we learn to do -the thing married fouk does, without the de’il helping us.</p> - -<p>Whisht, whisht, cried they, you should be scurged, fause -loon quean it thou is, ye’re speaking nonsense.</p> - -<p>Jan. The deil’s i’ the carles, for you and your minister is -liars, when ye say it de de’il was helping Sandy and me to get -the bairn.</p> - -<p>Come, come, say they, pay down the kirk-dues, and come -back to the stool the morn, four pound, and a groat to the -bell-man.</p> - -<p>Jan. The auld thief speed the dearth o’t stir, for less might -sair you and your bell-man baith, O but this be a hard warld -indeed, when poor honest fouk maun pay for making use o’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -their ain a—, ye misca’ ay the poor de’il a-hint his back, and gie -him the wyte o’ a’ de ill it’s done in the kintry, bastard barns -and every thing, and if it be sae as ye say, ye may thank de -de’il for that gude four pund and de groat I hae gi’en you, -that gars your pots boil brown, and get jockey-coats, and -purl-handed sarks and white-headed staves, when my father’s -pot wallops up rough bear and blue water.</p> - -<p>The woman’s mad, said they, for this money is a’ given to -the poor of the parish.</p> - -<p>Jan. The poor of the parish, said she, and that’s the way -o’t, a fint hate ye gie them but wee pickles o’ pease-meal, -didna I see’t in their pocks, and the minister’s wife gie’s -naething ava to unco beggars, but bids them gang hame to -their ain parish, and yet ye’ll tak de purse frae poor fouks, for -naething but playing the loun awee or they be married, and -syne cocks them up to be looked on and laught at by every -body, a de’il speed you and your justice stir; hute, tute, ye are -a coming on me like a wheen colly dogs, hunting awa’ a poor -ragget chapman frae the door, and out she comes cursing and -greeting: Sandy’s next called upon, and in he goes.</p> - -<p>Min. Now Saunders, you maun tell us how this child was -gotten?</p> - -<p>San. A wow, Mess John stir, you hae bairns o’ your ain, -how did you get them? but yours is a’ laddies, and mine is -but a lassie, if you’ll tell me how ye got your laddie, I’ll tell -you how I got my lassie, and then we’ll be baith alike good o’ -the business.</p> - -<p>The minister looks at him, hute, tute, Saunders, lay down -four pund and a groat, and come back to-morrow to the stool, -and give satisfaction to the congregation, you had more need -to be seeking repentance for that abominable sin of uncleanness, -than speaking so to me.</p> - -<p>San. Then there is your siller stir, I hae gotten but poor -penny-worths for’t, and ye’ll tell me to repent for’t, what the -auld thief needs I repent, when I’m gaun to marry de woman, -and then I’ll hae to do’t o’er again every day, or they’ll be nae -peace in the house; figs it’s nonsense to pay siller, repent, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -do’t again too, a fine advice indeed master minister, and that -is how ye live.</p> - -<p>Wise Willy. Now stir, you and master elders, ye manna -put them on the black creepy till they be married; they -suffered enough at ae time.</p> - -<p>A well, a well, said they, but they must marry very soon then.</p> - -<p>I trow sae says Sandy, ye’ll be wanting mair siller, fule -hate ye’ll do for naething here.</p> - -<p>Hame came Sandy, starving o’ hunger, ye might a casten a -knot on his lang guts, his mither was baking pease bannocks, -up he gets a lump of her leaven into his mouth, auld thief be -in your haggies-bag, Sandy, kirk-fouks is ay greedy, ye been -wi’ the minister the day, ye’d get a good lang grace, he might -a gi’en you meat thou filthy dog that tu is, thou hast the bulk -of a little whalpie o’ my leaven in your guts, it wada been -four good bannocks and a scone, and a sair’d our Sunday’s -dinner, sae wad it een, but an ye keep a reeking house and a -rocking cradle three eleven years as I hae done, less o’ that -will sair ye yet, baggity beast it tu is, mair it I bore thee -now, a hear ye that my dow.</p> - -<p>The next exploit was an action at law, against the goodman -of Muir-edge, a farmer who lived near by, that kept sheep and -swine, his sheep came down and broke into their yards and -ate up their kail; the wild hares, they thought, belonged to -the same man, as they ran towards his house when they were -hunted; the swine came very often in and about their houses, -seeking fish guts and ony thing they cou’d get, so it happened -that one of their children, sitting easing itself, one of the swine -tumbles it over, and bites a piece out of the child’s backside: -The whole town rose in an uproar, and after Grunkie, as they -called her, they catched her and took her before Wise Willy: -Willy takes an ax and cuts two or three inches off her long -nose, now says Willy, I trow I have made thee something -Christian-like, thou had sic a long mouth and nose before, it -wad a frighted a very de’il to look at ye; but now your fac’d -like a little horse or cow: the poor sow ran home roaring all -blood and wanting the nose, which caused Muir-edge to warn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> -them in before my Lord: so the wives that had their kail -eaten, appeared first in the court, complaining against Muir-edge. -Indeed, my Lord, Muir-edge is no a good man, when -he’s sick an ill neighbour, he keeps black hares and white -hares, little wee brown backed hares wi’ white arses, and loose -wagging horns, de muckle anes loups o’er the dyke and eats -a de kail, and de little anes wi’ de wagging horns, creeps in -at our water gush-holes, and does the like, when we cry pisue, -they ran awa’ hame to Muir-edge, but I’ll gar my colly hand -’em by the fit, and I’ll hand ’em by the horn, an pu’ a’ de hair -aff ’em, and send ’em hame wanting the skin, as he did wi’ -Sowen Tammy’s wi’ Sandy, for codding o’ his pease, he took -aff de poor laddies coat, a sae did he e’en.</p> - -<p>A well then, said my Lord, what do you say, but call in -Wise Willy.</p> - -<p>In he comes, A well my Lord, I shall suppose an ye were a -sow, and me sitting d——g, and you to bite my arse, sudna I -tak amends o’ you for that? Od my Lord, ye wadna hae sic -a bit out o’ your arse for twenty merks, ye maun just gar Muir-edge -gie ten merks to buy a plaister to heal the poor bit -wean’s arse again. Well said, Willy, says my Lord, but who -puts on the sow’s nose again? A figs my lord, said Willy, -she’s honester-like wanting it, and she’ll bite nae mair arses -wi’t, and gin ye had hane a nose, my Lord, as lang as the sow -had, ye’d been obliged to ony body it wad cut a piece aft.</p> - -<p>A gentleman coming past near their town, asked one of -their wives where their college stood, said she, Give me a -shilling, and I’ll let you see both sides o’t, he gives her a -shilling, thinking to see some curious sight, now there’s one -side of your shilling and there’s the other, and ’tis mine now.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="amh-III"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART III.<a id="FNanchor_181" href="#Footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a></h3> -</div> - -<p>Now Wise Willy was so admired for his just judgement in -cutting off the sow’s nose, that my Lord in a mocking manner,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -made him burly-bailie<a id="FNanchor_182" href="#Footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a> of Bucky-hine. Lang Sandy was -provost, and John Thrums, the weaver, was dean of guild, but -Witty Eppie had ay the casting vote in a’ their courts and -controverses.</p> - -<p>There happened one day a running horse to stand at one of -their doors, and a child going about, the horse trampled on the -child’s foot, which caused the poor child to cry, the mother -came running in a passion; crying, A wae be to you for a -’orse it ere ye was born o’ a woman, filthy barbarian bruit it -t’ou is, setting your muckle iron lufe on my bairn’s wee fittie, -od stir, I’ll drive the hair out o’ your head, gripping the horse -by the mane and the twa lugs, cuffing his chafts as if he had -been her fellow creature, crying, Be-go-laddie, I’ll gar you as -good, I’ll tak you before Wise Willy the bailie, and he will cut -aff wi’ de iron lufe, and dan you will be cripple, and gang -thro’ the kintry on a barrow, or on twa shule-staffs<a id="FNanchor_183" href="#Footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a> like Rab -the Randy, an a meal-pock about your neck; Her neighbour -wife hearing and seeing what past, cried, A ye fool taupy, -what gars you say that a ’orse was born o’ a woman, do you -think dat a ’orse has a fadder or a midder like you or me, or -ony ither body about; a what way do they come to the world -dan? A ye fool taupy, divna they whalp like the louses, ae -auld ’orse hobbles on anither anes back, and dat whalps a -young ’orse: Gosh woman, it wad be ill-far’d to see a woman -sitting wi’ a young ’orse on her knee, dighting its arse, and -gien it de pap.</p> - -<p>The next occasion was Lang Sandy, and Rolloching Jenny’s -wedding; which held three days and twa nights, my Lord and -my Lady, with several gentlemen and ladies, attended for -diversion’s sake,<a id="FNanchor_184" href="#Footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a> the piper of Kirkcaldy and the fidler of Kinghorn,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -were both bidden by Wise Willy the bride’s father, and -if ony mae came to play unbidden, Wise Willy swore they -should sit unsair’d, for these twa should get a’ the siller that -was to be gien or won that day, the dinner and dorder-meat -sat a’ in Eppie’s college, and the dancing stood in twa rings -before the door, and the first day with dunting and dangling -of their heels, dang doun the sea-dyke, some tumbled in and -some held by the stanes, the fidler fell o’er the lugs an drouket -a’ his fiddle, the strings gade out of order, and the tripes -turned saft like pudding skins, so the bagpipe had to do for a’, -and the fidler got nought to do but sup kail, and pike banes wi -the rest o’ them.</p> - -<p>Now my Lord’s cook was to order the kettle, but Pate o’ -the Pans<a id="FNanchor_185" href="#Footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a> play’d a sad prat, by casting in twa pounds of candle -among the kail, which made them fat, for some could not sup -them, for the candle wicks came ay into their cutties like -sutter’s lingles in the dish, but some wi’ stronger stomachs, -stripped them thro’ their teeth like ratton tails, an said, Mony -a ane wad be blythe o’ sic a string to tie their hose wi’ in a -pinch; my Lord and the Gentry, Mess John and the clerk -were all placed at the head of the table, opposite to the bride, -but would sup none of the candle kail. Wise Willy and the -Bridegroom served the table, and cried, Sup and a sorrow to -you, for I never liked sour kail about my house; when the -flesh came, the bride got a ram’s rumple to pick, she takes it up -and wags it at my Lord, saying, Ti hie; my Lord, what an a -piece is dat? O, said he, bride, that’s the tail-piece, it belongs -to you, Me, my Lord, it’s no mine, I never had a ting like dat, -it’s a fish tail, see as it wags, it’s a bit o’ a dead beast. O yes, -said he, bride, you hit it now; but how come you to eat with -your gloves on! Indeed my Lord, there is a reason for dat, -I hae scabbit hands. O fy, said he, I cannot believe you, so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -she pulls down a piece o’ her gloves, and shows him, O yes, -said he, I see it is so; Aha, but my Lord, I wish you saw my -a—, it’s a’ in ae hatter; O fy, said he, bride, you should not -speak so before Ladies and your maiden; I wonder, said he -to Wise Willy her father, you do not teach your daughter to -speak otherwise. A be my sae, my Lord, ye may as soon -kiss her a—, as gar her speak otherwise; I find so, said my -Lord, but it lies much in lack of a teacher.<a id="FNanchor_186" href="#Footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a></p> - -<p>The next dish that was presented on the table, was roasted -hens, and the bride’s portion being laid upon her plate, she -says to my Lord, will ye let me dip my fowl arse, amang your -sauce? Upon my word, and that I will not, said he, if it be -as you tell’d me; hout my Lord, it’s no my arse, it’s but de -hen’s I mean; O but, said he, bride, it’s the fashion to every -one to eat off their own trencher; you may get more sauce, I -can manage all mine myself; indeed, my Lord, I thought ye -liket me better than ony body; O but, said he, I love myself -better than you, bride; Deed my Lord, I think ye’re the best -body about the house, for your Lady’s but a stinking pridefu’ -jade, she thinks that we sud mak the fish a’ alike, be-go, my -Lord, she thinks we sud mak the haddies a’ like herrin, and -that we can shape them as the hens do their eggs wi’ deir arse. -O bride, said he, you, should not speak ill of my Lady; for -she hears you very well: O deed my Lord, I had nae mind o’ -that, a well then, said he, drink to me, or them ye like best; -then here’s to you a’ de gither, arse o’er head. Very well said, -says my Lord, that’s good sense or something like it.</p> - -<p>Dinner being over, my Lord desired the bride to dance; -Indeed, my Lord, I canna dance ony, but I’ll gar my wame -wallop foment yours, and then rin round about as fast as ye -can; very well, said he, bride, that will just do, we shall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -neither kiss nor shake hands, but I’ll bow to you, and ye’ll -beck to me, and so we’ll have done.</p> - -<p>Now, after dinner and dancing, my Lord exhorted the bride -to be a good neighbour, and to gree well, wi’ every body round -about, I wat well my Lord, ye ken I did never cast out wi’ -nae body but lang Pate o’ de Pans, and he was a’ de wyte o’t, -it began wi’ a hiertieing, and a jamffing me about Sandy, de -black-stanes and de crab-holes, where de wean was gotten, -and then it turn’d to a hub-bub and colly-shangy, an or e’er -ye wad said kiss my a—, my Lord, we are aboon ither on the -mussel midden, I trow I tell’d him o’ Randy Rob his uncle, -his feif-titty it steal’d de sarks and drank de siller, an how his -midder sell’d mauky mutton, an mair nor a’ that, a sae did I -een, my Lord.</p> - -<p>My Lord had a friend of his own who was a captain in the -army, who came to visit him, and hearing of the Buckers’ sayings -and exploits; was desirous to see them, and my Lord as -desirous to put them in a fright, sent his servant, and ordered -them, both men and women, to come up before his gate, -directly the morn about kail-time, and all that did not come, -was to flit and remove out of my Lord’s ground directly, this -put the whole of them in great terror, some ran to Wise Willy -to see what it mean’d, Willy said, it was before something, and -he was sure that death would be the warst o’t, come what -will; But Witty Eppie said, I ken weel what’s to come, he’s -gaun to mak de men o’ us sogers, and the wives dragoons, because -we’ve de best fighters; I ken there is something to come -on the town, for our Nancy saw Maggy’s gaist the streen, it -was bury’d four ouks syne;<a id="FNanchor_187" href="#Footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a> a hech co’ Willy, that’s a sign -the meal is dear i’ the ither warld, when she comes to think -on’t again; we will tak our dinner or we go, we’ll may be ne’er -come back again, so away they went lamenting all in a crowd. -My Lord and the Captain were looking out at the window to -them, the Captain cries to them, To the right about, to which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -they answered, good bliss you my Lord, what does that man -say? Then said my Lord, turn your face to Maggy Millheads, -and your arse to the sea; this they did in all haste. -And what will we do now? said Willy; no more, said my -Lord, but gang away home Willy; O my bows, O my blessings -come o’er your bonny face, my Lord, I wish you may -never die, nor yet grow sick, nor naebody kill you: ye’re the -best Lord I ken on earth, for we thought a’ to be made dead -men and sogers, ye’re wiser than a’ the witches in Fife.</p> - -<p>There was in Bucky-harbour, a method when they got a -hearty drink, that they went down to dance among the boats, -one, two, or three of the oldest went into a boat to see the -rest dance; when e’er they admitted a burgher there was -always a dance. One day they admitted a glied Rob Thomson, -from the island of May, an’ after he was admitted they got -account from Wise Willy that glied Rob was a witch, which -made them all stop their dancing, and Rob was cried on to -make answer to this weighty matter. Gly’d Rob cried none -of you shall stir a fit for two hours, I’se warrand you: so Rob -spang’d and jump’d over the boat several times and put them -in great terror, some cried, O ’tis i’ the air, and then they cried -they saw him i’ the air hinging, so that Rob was obliged to go -back to the May, and carry coals to the light house.<a id="FNanchor_188" href="#Footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a></p> - -<p>It was reported that gly’d Rob was born in Bucky and that -his father was Willy Thomson’s son, who was banish’d for a slave -to the May,<a id="FNanchor_189" href="#Footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> to carry coals; he would not tak with him, on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> -account he had but ae eye. After that there was no more -dancing at admitting of burgers; but the old usual way of -scate rumple, and then drink until they were almost blind.</p> - -<p>Upon the Rood day,<a id="FNanchor_190" href="#Footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> four young Bucky lasses were away -early in the morning with their creels full of fish, and about a -mile from the town, they saw coming down a brae like a man -driving a beast, when they came near Tardy-Tib says, ’tis a -man driving a big mauken Tib flang her creel and fish away, -the other three ran anther way, and got clear; they said it -was a horned devil. Tib told the frightsome story, and many -ran to see the poor cadger man and his ass driving the auld -mauken. The fishers look on all maukens to be devils and -witches, and if they but see the sight of a dead mauken, it -sets them a trembling.<a id="FNanchor_191" href="#Footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a> The fisher lasses look with disdain -on a farmer’s daughter, and a’ country lasses; they call them -muck-byers and sherney-tail’d jades.</p> - -<p>The Bucky lads and lasses when they go to gather bait tell -strange stories about Witches, Ghosts, Willy with the Wisp, and -the Kelpy, Fairies and Maukens, and boggles of all sorts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p> - -<p>The Ghosts, like old horses, go all night for fear they are -seen, and be made to carry scate or fish, or be carted; and -witches are the warst kind of devils, and mak use of cats to -ride upon, or kill-kebbers, and besoms, and sail over seas in -cockle-shells, and witch lads and lasses, and disable bridegrooms. -As for Willy and the Wisp, he is a fiery devil, and -leads people off their road in order to drown them, for he -sparks sometimes at our feet, and then turns before us with his -candle, as if he were twa or three miles before us, many a good -boat has Spunkie drown’d; the boats coming to land in the -night-time, they observe a light off the land, and set in upon -it and drown.</p> - -<p>The Kelpy<a id="FNanchor_192" href="#Footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a> is a sly devil, he roars before a loss at sea, -and frightens both young and old upon the shore. Fairies -are terrible troublesome, they gang dancing round fouks -lums, and rin through the houses, they haunt, and play odd -tricks, and lift new born bairns from their mothers, and none of -them is safe to ly with their mothers, a night or two after -they are born, unless the mother gets a pair of men’s breeches -under her head for the first three nights; when the Fairies are -frighted, they will leave an old stock with the woman, and -whip away the child. One tried to burn an old stock that the -Fairies left in the cradle; but when the fire was put on, the -old stock jumped on upon a cat and up the lum.<a id="FNanchor_193" href="#Footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a> Maukens -are most terrible, and have bad luck, none will go to sea that -day they see a Mauken, or if a wretched body put in a Mauken’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -fit in their creels, they need not lift them that day, as it will -be bad luck, either broken backs, or legs, or arms, or hear bad -accounts of the boats at sea.<a id="FNanchor_194" href="#Footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a></p> - -<p>They are terrified for all sorts of boggles both by land and -by sea.</p> - - -<div class="chapter" id="amh-IV"> -<h3 class="fs80">THE MINISTER AND MUSSEL MOU’D HARRY.</h3> -</div> - -<p>Mussel Mou’d Harry, the skull-maker,<a id="FNanchor_195" href="#Footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a> whose lug was -nailed to a tree near my Lord’s garden, for cutting young -saughs, for to make sculls and creels of. He assumed a headdress -as he had been a devil, and went playing his tricks in the -night-time, which frighted the whole town, until the time he -was catched by my Lord’s piper. He was then sent for to the -minister, and was obliged to put on his frightful dress, with -the appearance of two horns on his head; the minister rebuked -him, but he had the assurance to tell the minister, that he only -frighted his own town, but that he frighted the whole parish, -by telling them to repent or be d——d, this is your gate o’t -stir, so I made them repent by fright, and I think, I sud be -paid by your honour for’t; as you tell me stir about my Lord’s -saughs which I suffered for, if your ’onour’s lug had been there, -you could not get off so easy, for stir, your lugs is as long as -my grey cat’s, so I bid you farewel until our next meeting.</p> - -<p class="p4 smcap center lsp2">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p6 nobreak" id="THE_WITTY_AND_ENTERTAINING"><em>THE WITTY AND ENTERTAINING -EXPLOITS OF GEORGE BUCHANAN.</em></h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="p6 chap pg-brk" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>[The following pages have been reprinted from an edition having the following -on the title-page:—‘The Witty and Entertaining Exploits of George Buchanan, -who was commonly called, The King’s Fool. In six parts. Stirling: Printed and -Sold by C. Randall, <span class="allsmcap">MDCCXCV</span>.’ Some stories to be found in an edition ‘printed -in Falkirk’ in 1799, and not in the edition which has been followed here, have -been inserted in the text, and the fact noted. In addition to the Falkirk edition, -the text has been collated with—(1) An edition published by G. Angus, Newcastle; -one by J. Morren, Cowgate, Edinburgh, 1809; and undated Edinburgh, Glasgow, -Aberdeen, and Newcastle-on-Tyne editions. Many of the stories are drawn from -a variety of sources, and Buchanan is made their hero.]</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-I"> -<p class="p2 center">THE WITTY AND ENTERTAINING EXPLOITS -OF GEORGE BUCHANAN.</p> -</div> - - -<h3 class="lsp2">PART I.</h3> - -<p class="noindent">Mr. George Buchanan was a Scotsman born, and though -of mean parentage, made great progress in learning.—As for -his understanding and ready wit, he excelled all men then -alive in that age, that ever proposed questions to him.—He -was servant or teacher to King James VI. as his private -counsellor, but publicly he acted as his fool.</p> - -<p>It happened one day, that a young airy noble man went into -the king’s garden to pull a flower for a young lady he fancied: -George followed at a distance; so, when the young man found -a flower to his pleasure, he would not pull it himself, but to -find it again, without further searching, he covered it with his -hat, and went away for his sweetheart: no sooner was he gone, -but up goes George, lifts his hat, and pulls the flower, then -cases himself on the spot, and covers it with the hat again, -and away he goes. In comes the young man, leading his sweetheart -to pull the flower below the hat; but as soon as he lifted -the hat, and seeing what was below, he looked like a fool. The -lady flies in a passion, off she goes, and never would countenance -him any more. The young man being sadly vexed at this affront -done to him by George, sent him a challenge to fight him, appointing -the day and place where they were to meet. Being to fight -on horseback, George gets an old stiff horse, and for harnassing, -covers him about with blown bladders, with a little small stone -in each, without either sword or spear, away to the field he -goes, where the duel was appointed; so when George saw his -enemy coming against him, all in glittering armour, armed -with sword and spear, he rode up to him with all the speed -his horse could carry him, and his horse, as is said being all -covered over with bladders, the small stones in them, made -such a terrible noise, that the gentleman’s fine gelding would -not stand the battle, but ran away, and threw his master to -the ground, which caused all the spectators to laugh, and say<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -the gentleman was more fool than George. The gentleman -being so enraged at this second affront, he would fight with -George on foot; but his friends persuaded him that it would -be no honour for him to fight and kill the king’s fool, and far -less to be killed by the fool, so they were advised both to -agree; but the gentleman would try another exploit with -George, for to have it said he was still the cleverest man, to -hold him a jumping-bout publicly the next day thereafter. -With all my heart, says George, and we will end in and about -where we began; they not knowing his meaning in this. The -place and hour being set where they were to meet next -morning, George in the night caused a deep pit to be made, -and the earth of it carried away, afterwards filled it up with -dung from a privy, covered it over with a green turf, so that -it might not be known by the other ground; so, according -to promise, they both met in the morning against the appointed -time: now George being the oldest man, and by them -counted the greatest fool, the young spark permitted him to -jump first, which he, according to order, performed; and jumped -within a foot of the place where the ground <ins class="corr" id="tn-242" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'was falsefied'"> -was falsified</ins>: the young man seeing this, made his performance afterwards with -great airs and all his might, so that he jumped a foot over -George, but to the oxters among clean dung; whereat the -whole multitude of spectators cried out with huzzas and -laughter. Now, says George, I told you we would end in and -about where we began, and that is in clean dirt.</p> - -<p>On a time after this, the king and his court was going into -the country, and they would have George to ride before them -in the fool’s dress, whereunto he seemed unwilling, but it was -the king’s pleasure. So George was mounted upon an old -horse, a pair of old riven boots, with the heels hanging down, -and a palmer coat patched over with pictures of divers kinds. -George rode before them in this posture, which caused great -laughter and diversion until they came to an inn, where they -alighted to dine; and in the time they were at dinner George -went into the stables, and with a knife cut all the horses chaffs, -not sore, but so as they might bleed. Now, as soon as dinner<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -was over, and they mounted on their horses again, George -riding before them as usual, in his palmer coat and old boots, -they began to make their game of him: then George turned -about suddenly, and clapping his hands with loud laughter; -the king asked him, what made him laugh so? Laugh, says -George, how can I but laugh, when horses cannot hold their -peace? O my sovereign, says he, don’t you see how your -horses have rent their chafts laughing at my old boots; then -every man looking at his horse’s mouth, they were all in a rage -against George; the king caused him to be dismounted directly, -and charged him never to let him see his face on English -ground. Now George knowing that nothing could reconcile -the king at this time, he came away to Scotland, and caused -make him a pair of great boots and put a quantity of -Scottish earth in each of them, and away he goes for England -to see the king once more. He hearing the king and his -court were to pass through a country village, George places -himself up in an old window, and sets up his bare arse to the -king and his court as they passed by. The king was greatly -amazed to see such an unusual honour done to him, was curious -to know the performer; so he called unto him, asking him -to come down, and finding it to be George, Sir, says the king, -did not I charge you never to let me see your face again? -True, my sovereign, says George, for which cause I let you see -my arse. Ay but says the king, you was never to come on -English ground again. Neither I did, says George, pulling off -his boots before the king, saying, Behold, my Sovereign, ’tis -all Scots ground I stand upon.—The king and his court being -so diverted with this merry joke, George was admitted again -to the king’s favour.</p> - -<p>After this, there arose a debate betwixt the king and the -queen about votes in the parliament; as the king had two -votes, the queen would have one, and would needs be a parliamenter, -or no peace without the preferment: this matter was -committed to George by the king; so it was agreed among -the parliamenters that the Queen should be admitted into -parliament for a day; and accordingly she came, and was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -received with all the honour and congratulation, as was due, and -becoming her high station; but before any matter of consequence -was brought to the board, George seated himself hard -by the queen’s seat; all being silent, he rose up quickly, and -lifted one of his legs, and then gave a great fart, which set the -whole house a laughing; whereat the Queen was greatly -offended, crying, Go take the rogue and hang him; to which -George answered, A fine parliamenter indeed, to hang a man -for a sinless infirmity, and that’s a fart. The Queen being so -enraged at this affront put on her first proposal to parliament, -went off in a passion, and never would countenance them any -more. But yet to be revenged on George, she would never -give the King rest till he delivered George into her hands, that -he might be punished at her pleasure: which the king accordingly -commanded to be done, knowing that George would -rescue himself by some intrigue or other. No sooner was he -delivered into her hands, to be at her disposal, but she and her -Maries<a id="FNanchor_196" href="#Footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a> pronounced his doom, which is as follows: As he had -affronted the Queen among so great an equipage, who ought -to be honoured in chief, and above all women in the nation, -that he should be stoned to death by the hands of women. -Now the time being come that he was to die, according to -their appointment, he was taken into a park, where a great -number of women was waiting upon him, with their aprons -full of stones, to fall upon him, and to put him to death, -according to the queen’s appointment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span></p> - - -<p class="p2 center">His SPEECH to his Executioners.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here’s a female band with bags of stones,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To kill a man for rumple groans.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I’m clean of rapine, blood, and thefts,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Could I convert my farts to rifts;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Since I, the first, for farting die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Close up the place from whence they fly;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To commit my crime, I think ye’ll scarce,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If once you do cork up your arse.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And now since women stones do carry,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Men need not in the world tarry.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Judge if such women be chaste complete,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With forty stones between their feet.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But since ’tis so, ye will come on,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The greatest whore throw the first stone.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>When he had ended with these words, The greatest whore -throw the first stone, every one put it to another to cast the -first stone; but knowing they would attain the character of a -whore for so doing, they all refused, till the dying hour was -past, and then he took a protest against them, and by that -mean gained his life.</p> - -<p>After this he was admitted to the Queen’s favour and -presence, attending the court as formerly. About this time -the French king not knowing how to pick a quarrel with -Great Britain, sent a letter to the king, desiring it to be read -before the Parliament, and the writing was as follows: Will -I come? Will I come? Will I come?—This letter being read -before the king and his courtiers, they all concluded that the -French king designed to invade England; therefore they -wrote a letter on purpose to send to him again upbraiding him -with the breach of peace, and putting him in mind of the last -treaty. The answer being read before the King and his Nobles, -they all condescended that it should be sent as an answer; but -George smiling and shaking his head, cried out,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Many men, many minds;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who knows what he designs?</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span></p> - -<p>Then they asked George what he thought the French king -meant by such a letter? to which he answered, I suppose he -wants an invitation to come over to dine, and then go back in -a friendly manner; but you are going to charge him with a -breach of peace, before he has given any signal of offence or -war: his letter is indeed dark and mystical, but send him an -answer according to his question. Now George being ordered -to write the answer, it was, And ye come, And ye come, And -ye come. This being sent to the French King, he admired it -beyond expression, saying, It was an answer more valiant and -daring than he expected; so the enmity he intended was -thereby turned into love.</p> - -<p>About this time it happened that a malignant party in -Scotland sent up a great spokesman to the King and Parliament, -for the seducing of the church: George hearing of his -coming, went away and met him on the bridge, and the salutation -that he gave him was, the cutting off his head, and -throwing it over the bridge, then ran to the king with all his -might, falling down before him, pleading most heartily for a -pardon, or without it he was a dead man; the king most seriously -asked him what he had done now? to which he answered, -He had only thrown the Scots bishop’s hat over the bridge, -which made the king to laugh, to hear him ask pardon for such -a small fault; but he had no sooner got the pardon sealed by -the King’s hand, then he said, indeed my sovereign, I threw -his hat over the bridge, but his head was in it. Geordy, -Geordy, says the King, thou wilt never give over till thou -be hanged.</p> - -<p>After this, a nobleman in England agreed with the King to -put a trick upon George, to try his manly courage, in sending -him to a certain house for a bag of money. On his way home -through St. James’s Park, they caused a sturdy fellow to go -and set the way upon him, and take the money; he being armed -with sword and pistol, came up briskly, and attacked George -with these words, You, Sir, deliver what money you have, -or you are a dead man: to which George answered, Sir I have -money indeed, but ’tis not my own, and I am sorry to give<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -it; nevertheless, since I am not armed as you are to exchange -blows for it, you shall have it; but pray do me the favour as -to fire your pistol through the flap of my cloak, that the owners -may see I have been in danger of my life before I lost the -money; which he accordingly performed. No sooner had he -fired it, than George whips out his hanger from below his -cloak, and with one stroke cut off his right hand, wherein he -held his sword, so that both his sword and the hand fell to the -ground; but George lifted his hand, and carried it to the -King. No sooner did he come before them, but they asked -him, saying, Well George, did you see any body to trouble -you by the way? No, said he, but one fellow, who was going -to take the money from me; but I made him give me his -hand he would not do the like again. You did, says the fellow’s -master? Yes, I did, says George, let work bear Witness, -throwing down the fellow’s hand on the table before them.</p> - -<p>Now this last exploit of George’s caused many of the -English to hate him, and among the rest, a young nobleman -fell a jocking of George, in saying, he would be as famous a -champion for Scotland as Sir William Wallace was: Ay, ay, -says George, William Wallace was a brave man in his time. -True, indeed, says the other, but when he came to London, -we did him all manner of justice, and for honour of the Scots, -we have his effigy in the shite-houses to this very day. And -do you not know the reason of that, says George? No, I don’t, -says he: Well, I’ll tell you, says George, he was such a terror -to the Englishmen when he was alive, that the sight of him -yet makes them beshite themselves. The English took this as -a great affront, and forthwith caused Wallace’s picture to be -taken out of that place.</p> - -<p>There was a young English girl in love with a Scotsman, -and petitioned him several times for to marry her, which he -refused, and upon revenge thereof, she went to a Justice, and -<ins class="corr" id="tn-247" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'swore a rap'"> -swore a rape</ins> against him, which is death by the law. George -hearing this, went into the prison where the young man was, -and instructed him how to behave before the judge. So in the -time of the trial, George came in, while the judge was crying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -to the man, but never a word could he get him to answer, -to tell whether he was guilty or not. After the judge had -given him over for deaf and dumb, others fell a-shouting in his -ears, but never a word he would speak. Then the judge perceiving -George, called him, saying, George, do you know what is -the matter with this man? Yes I do, very well, says George. -What is it, says the judge? Why, says George, the woman -made such a noise and crying, when he was ravishing her, it -has put the poor man quite deaf, I assure you. Is it so, says -the judge. No, no, says the woman, my lord judge, you may -believe me, I lay as mute as a lamb, and never spoke a word -all the time. Very well confessed, said the judge, and you -have sworn a rape against him; go take the whore to Newgate, -and let the poor man go about his business, and so it -ended.<a id="FNanchor_197" href="#Footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a></p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-II"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART II.</h3> -</div> - -<p>George happened one night to be in company with a -Bishop, and so they fell to argumenting anent religion,<a id="FNanchor_198" href="#Footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a> -wherein George got the better of him, and the Bishop found -himself he was wrong; then one of the company addressed -himself to George in these words, thou Scot, said he, ought -not have left the country; For what, says George? Because -thou hast brought all the knowledge that is in it along with -thee. No, no, says George, the shepherds in Scotland will -argument with any Bishop in England, and exceed them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -mighty far in knowledge. The English clergy took this as a -great affront, and several noblemen affirmed it to be as George -had said. Wagers were laid thereon, and three of the English -clergy were chosen and sent away to Scotland to dispute it with -the shepherds, accompanied with several gentlemen who were to -bear witness of what they heard pass between them. Now George -knowing what way they were gone, took another road, and came -into the Scots bounds before them, made up his acquaintance -with a shepherd at the border, whose pasture lay hard by the -way side, where the clergymen were to pass; and here George -mounted himself in a shepherd’s dress, and when he saw the -clergymen coming, he conveyed his flock to the road side, -and fell a singing a latin song; and so, to begin the -quarrel, one of them asked him, in French, What o’clock -it was? To which he answered in Hebrew, It is directly -about the time of the day it was yesterday at this time. -Another asked him in Greek, What countryman he was? To -which he answered in Flemish, If you knew that, you would -be as wise as myself. A third asked him in Dutch, Where -was you educate? To which he answered in Earse, herding -my sheep between this and Lochaber. This, they begged -him to explain in English, which he accordingly did. Now, -said they one to another, we need not go any farther, What, -says George, are you butchers? I’ll sell you a few sheep. -To this they made no answer, but went away shamefully, -swearing that the Scots had gone through all the nations in -the world to learn their language, or the devil had taught -them it, for we have no share here but shame.</p> - -<p>After that George had ended the dispute with the English -clergymen, he stript of his shepherd’s dress, and up through -England with all the haste imaginable, so that he arrived at -the place from whence they set out, three days before them, -and went every day asking if they were come, so that he -might not be suspected. Now, upon their arrival, all that -were concerned in the matter, and many more, to hear what -news from the Scots shepherds, came crowding in, to know -what was done. No sooner had the three gentlemen declared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -what was past between the clergymen and the shepherds, whom -they found on the Scots border, but the old bishop made -answer, and think you, said he, that a shepherd could answer -these questions? It has been none else but the devil, for the -Scots ministers themselves could not do it; they are but -ignorant of such matters; a parcel of beardless boys. Then -George thought it was time to take speech in hand. Well, -my lord bishop, says he, you call them a parcel of ignorant -beardless boys, you have a great long beard yourself, my lord -bishop, and if the grace of God were measured by beards, you -bishops, and the goats will have it all, and that will be quite -averse to scripture. What, says the bishop, are you a Scot? -Yes, says George, I am a Scot: Well, says the bishop, and -what is the difference between a Scot and a sot? Nothing at -present, says George, but the breadth of the table, there being -a table betwixt the bishop and George; so the bishop went -off in a high passion, while the whole multitude were like to -split their jaws with laughter.<a id="FNanchor_199" href="#Footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a></p> - -<p>About this time there was an act of parliament for the -benefit of murderers, that any person if they committed -murder, if they forfeited 500 merks, which went under the -name of Kin Boot,<a id="FNanchor_200" href="#Footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a> because so much of this fine went to the -murdered person’s nearest relation, as the price of blood, the -murderer got a remit. Now George knowing this to be contrary -to Moses’ laws, was very much grieved to see many -pardons sealed with the king’s hand for murder, almost one -every week; it being so usual for the king to subscribe them, -that he would not read them, nor enquire what they were: -for which cause George writes a right to the crown, and sent -it to the king to be subscribed, which he actually did, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -never looking what it was, returned it to George; no sooner -had he received it, but he goes to the king, and told him it -was not time for him now to be sitting there, whereat the -king, greatly amazed, started up, then George in great haste -sets himself down on the king’s chair, forthwith declaring -himself king, saying, You who was king must be my fool, for -I am now the wisest man. The king at this was greatly -offended, until George shewed him his seal and superscription; -but, from that day forth the king knew what he subscribed.</p> - -<p>The next pardon that came to be sealed by the king, was -to a gentleman who had killed two men before, and had gotten -pardons for them by money. This being the third, the -king looked very silent in looking over the petition, George, -standing by, asked the king what he was going to seal now? -To which he answered, It is a remit for a man who had killed -three men at sundry times, I gave him two remits before. -O! says George, he has killed but one man; and who killed -the other two? says the king; you did, says George, for if -you had given him justice when he had killed the first, he had -killed no more. When the king heard these words, he threw -down the pen, and declared that such an act, to save a -murderer, shall be null ever after by him.</p> - -<p>One day after this, George having no money, he goes away -and gets a pick and spade, and then falls a digging at a -corner of the king’s palace, which the king perceiving from -his window, calls what he was wanting there? are you going -to undermine my house, and make it fall? No, my sovereign, -said he, but it is verily reported that there is plenty of money -about this house, and where can it be? I cannot find it; for -it is not within the house to do me service, then surely it must -be below it. O George that is a crave after the new fashion: -What money you want I’ll order it for you. Then, my -sovereign, I’ll dig no more.</p> - -<p>One time after this George being in the country, he came -to an inn where he alighted to refresh himself and his horse; -the innkeeper charged him double price for every thing he -called for; George never grumbled at this, but gave him all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -his demands, and away he goes on his journey; and where -he quartered the night following, he was used after the same -manner, if not worse. Now George having little farther to -go, he returned the next day, and came that night to the inn -where he refreshed himself the day before; so when he -alighted, the boy asking him, sir, what shall I give your horse? -What you will, boy, says George. No sooner had he gone into -his room, but the drawer asked him, What will you have to -drink, sir. What you will, says George. The master of the -inn came into his room before supper, asking him, What will -you have for supper, sir? What you will, landlord, says -George. Now after supper being ended, and a hearty bowl to -put all over, George went to bed, and got up pretty early in -the morning, he called for the boy to make ready his horse in -all haste, for he designed to mount him and go directly: so -in a short time he went into the stable where the boy was, -calling for his horse, when he mounting him with all the speed -he could, and giving the boy a piece of money, saying, here, -my boy, this is for your taking care of my horse, I have paid -for all I called for in the house, and off he goes. Now, about -mid day, he alighted again at an inn to refresh himself and -his horse, and there he chanced to be in company with his -other landlord, where he was the night before, and charged -him with the double reckoning, so George addressed himself -to him as follows: Sir, says George, I do believe I was in your -house yesternight. Oh yes, sir, I mind of you pretty well; -and where was you last night? Last night! says George, I -was in one of the finest inns, and the civilest landlord I ever -had in my life; they brought all things that I stood in need -of unto me without calling for it, and when I came off this -morning, they charged me nothing, and I paid nothing but -sixpence to the boy for dressing my horse. Blood and wounds, -said the old fellow, then I’ll go there this night. Ay, says -George, do; and mind this, when they ask you what you will -have for your horse, answer nothing, but what you will, sir. -Now George smiled within himself, to think how he had got -the one extortioner to take amends of the other. So the fore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span>said -innkeeper rode that night until many of the people of -the inn were gone to bed before he came. No sooner was he -alighted from his horse, than the boy asked him, What shall -I give to your horse, master? To which he answered, What -you will, boy. The boy hearing this, he runs away (leaving -him and his horse to stand at the door), up stairs to his -master’s room, crying, Master, Master, What you will is come -again? O the rogue, cries he, where is he? I’ll cane him, I’ll -what you will him by and by, and to him he runs with his -cane, licks and kicks him until he was scarce able to mount -his horse, and would give him no entertainment there; which -caused him to ride the whole length of a cold winter night, -after he had got his bones all beat and bruised. So the one -pursued the other as a murderer; and his defence was, that -he was a cheat and a scorner of his house, until the truth was -found out.</p> - -<p>About this time the French king sent and demanded from -the king of England three men of different qualities; the first -was to be a mighty strong man, the other a very wise man, -and the third a great fool: so that he might have none in -all France to match them in their stations. So accordingly -there were two men chosen, the one a strong man, and the -other a wise man, but George was to act as a fool: nevertheless, -he was the teacher of the other two. On their way to -France, George asked the strong man, what will you answer -the French king, if he ask if you be a strong man? I’ll say I -am. Then, says George, he’ll possibly get a stronger man -than you, who may kill you and affront your country. What -shall I say then? said the strong man. Why, says George, -tell him you are strong enough untried. Then, says George -to the wise man, and what will you say to the king, when he -asks if you are a wise man? I’ll tell him I am, and answer -him all the questions I know. Very well, says George, and -what if he ask you what you do not know, then you’ll affront -your country, and be looked upon as a greater fool than me. -What shall I answer then? said the wise man. Why, says -George, tell him, he is only a wise man that can take care of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -himself; and I shall come in after you, and take care of you -all together. No sooner were they arrived at the king’s -palace, than the king sent for them to try them. The strong -man being first called for, he goes; then the king asked him, -Are you a strong man? to which he answered, O king, I am -strong enough untried; very good, said the king. After him -entered the wise man, to whom the king put the question, sir, -are you a wise man? to which he answered, He is only a wise -man who can take care of himself: very good, says the king. -With that George pushed up the door, and in he goes with -loud laughter, pisses directly in the king’s face, which blinded -both his eyes, and put the whole court in amaze. Now, now, -says the king, it is true enough what the Wise man says, for -if I had taken care of myself, I need not have been pissed -upon by the English fool. O no, says George, fools always -strive to make fools of others, but Wise men make fools of -themselves. The king imagined as much as he was made the -greatest fool, and charged them forthwith to go home, for he -wanted no more of England’s strength, wisdom, or folly.</p> - -<p>One night after this, a Highland drover chanced to have a -drinking bout with an English captain of a ship, and at last -the English captain and him came to be very hearty over -their cup; so that they called in their servants to have a share -of their liquor; the drover’s servant looked like a wild man, -going without breeches, stockings or shoes, not so much as -a bonnet on his head, with a long peel’d rung in his hand. -The captain asked him how long it was since he catched -him? it is about two years since I haul’d him out of the sea -with a net, and afterwards he ran into the mountains, where I -catched him with a pack of hounds. The captain believed it -was so; but, says he, I have a servant the best swimmer in -Europe. O but, says the drover, my servant will swim him -to death. No, says the captain, I’ll lay 200 guineas<a id="FNanchor_201" href="#Footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a> on it. -Then says the drover, I hold it one for one, and stakes -it directly, the day being appointed when the trial was to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -made. Now, the drover, when he came to himself, thinking -on what a bargain he had made, did not know what <ins class="corr" id="tn-255" title="Transcriber’s Note—Original text: 'to do, do, knowing'"> -to do, knowing</ins> very well his servant could swim none. He -hearing of George, being in town, who was always a good -friend to a Scotsman; he went unto him, and told him the -whole story, and that he would be entirely broke, and durst -never return to his own country, for he was sure to lose it. -Now George called the drover and his servant aside, and -instructed them how to bring him off with safety, and gain -too; so accordingly they met at the place appointed; the -captain’s servant stripped directly, and threw himself into the -sea, taking a turn until the highlandman was ready, for the -drover took some time to put his servant in order: after he -was stripped, his master took his plaid, and rolled a kebbock of -cheese, a big loaf, and a bottle of gin in it, and this he bound -on his shoulders, giving him a direction to tell his wife and -children that he was well; to be sure he returned with an -answer against that day se’ennight. So as he went into the -sea, he looked back to his master, and call’d out to him for his -claymore. And, what waits he for now? says he who was to -swim along with him. He wants his sword, says his master; -his sword! says the fellow, what is he to do with a sword? -Why, says his master, if he meets with a Whale or a monstrous -beast, it is to defend his life; I know he’ll have to fight his -way through the north seas, e’er he go to Lochaber. Then, -cries the other, I’ll swim none with him, if he takes his sword. -Ay, but, says the master, you shall, or lose the wager; take -you another sword with you. No, says the fellow, I never did -swim with a sword, nor any man else, that ever I saw or heard -of; I know not but that wild man will kill me in the deep water; -I would not for the whole world venture myself with him and -a sword. The captain seeing his servant afraid to venture, or -if he did, he would never see him again alive; therefore, he -desired an agreement with the drover, who at first seemed -unwilling; but the captain put it in his will, the drover -quit him for an hundred guineas. This he came to through -George’s advice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span></p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-III"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART III.</h3> -</div> - -<p>After this, George being in Cornwall about some business -where he chanced to run short of money, and not knowing -what to do, being acquainted with none in that country, and -knowing his landlord to be loyal to the government, and a -great favourite to the king his master; takes a piece of brick, -and brays it to a small powder mixed with a little chalk, so -that it might seem, in colour, like arsenick which is strong -poison; then tying it up in papers, writing on this direction, -the strongest poison for the king, and on another paper, the -slower poison for the queen. Out he goes on purpose, and -leaves the papers lying on a table, where he knew they would -be looking at them; the landlord perceived the direction; so -in comes George in a great haste, and calls out, O landlord, -did you see two small bundles I have lost, and I know not -what I shall do, for it was my main business to take them to -London.—O! you murdering rogue! cries the landlord, I’ll -have you hanged for what you intend. George at this made -off, and was going to fly for it, but the landlord called for -assistance; so he was apprehended, and made prisoner of -state, and carried him to London by a troop of horse; when -the people there began to know him, and tell what he was, his -guard slipt away shamefully, and left him; so George thanked -them for their good company and save convoy.</p> - -<p>There was a law made against wearing swords at balls and -assemblies, in the reign of King James VI. because they were -inconvenient on these occasion; but George, to be witty on -the act, provided himself with a very long scabbard, and got -himself introduced to a ball, where the king and his court were -present; George made several turns through the company, -making his scabbard hit against their shins, and sometimes -slipt it below a lady’s fardingale; and, in short, molested the -company so much, that he was taken notice of, and seized as -a person who had incurred the penalties of the act aforesaid. -But George excused himself, telling them, that the law was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span> -only against swords, and as he only wore a scabbard, was no -ways liable. At seeing this, the king and his court were convinced -that the law was imperfect, and that George had more -wit than themselves.</p> - -<p>George, one day easing himself at the corner of a hedge, -was espied by an English ’squire, who began to mock him, asking -him, Why did he not keckle like the hens? But George -whose wit was always ready, told him, He was afraid to keckle -lest he would come and snatch up the egg. Which rebuff -made the ’squire walk off as mute as a fish.</p> - -<p>George was professor of the College of St. Andrews, and -slipt out one day in his gown and slippers, and went to his -travels through Italy, and several other foreign countries; and -after seven years, returned with the same dress he went off in; -entered the college, and took a possession of his seat there; but -the professor in his room quarrelled him for so doing. Ay, -says George, it is a very odd thing that a man cannot take a -walk out in his slippers, but another will take up his seat; and -so set the other professor about his business.</p> - -<p>George was met one day by three bishops, who paid him the -following compliments. Says the first, Good day, father -Abraham; says the second, Good day, father Isaac; says the -third, Good day, father Jacob. To which he replied, I’m -neither father Abraham, father Isaac, nor father Jacob; but -I am Saul, the son of Kish, sent out to seek my father’s asses, -and lo! I have found three of them. Which answer convinced -the bishops that they had mistaken their man.<a id="FNanchor_202" href="#Footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a></p> - -<p>A poor Scotsman dined one day at a public house in -London upon eggs, and not having money to pay, got credit -till he should return. The man being lucky in trade, acquired -vast riches, and after some years returned, and calling at the -house where he was owing his dinner of eggs, asked the landlord -what he had to pay for his dinner of eggs he had got -from him such a time? The landlord seeing him now rich, -gave him a bill of some hundred pounds; telling him, as his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span> -reason for so extravagant a charge, that these eggs, had they -been hatched, would have been chickens; and these laying -more eggs, would have been more chickens; and so on, multiplying -the eggs and their product till such time as their value -amounted to the sum he charged. The man refusing to comply -with his demand, was charged before a judge; but mean -time, made the matter known to George Buchanan his countryman, -who promised to appear in the hour of cause, which he -accordingly did, all in a sweat, with a great basket of boil’d -pease: which appearance surprised the judge, who asked him, -what he meant by these boil’d peas? Says George, I am -going to sow them. When will these grow? says the judge: -They will grow when sodden eggs grow chickens. Which -answer convinced the judge of the extravagance of the Englishman’s -demand, and the Scotsman was assoilized on paying -twopence halfpenny.</p> - -<p>There was a bell at Dalkieth, which the Popish clergy made -use of to extort confessions from the ignorant people, in the -following manner: They told the persons whom they suspected -guilty, that the bell would rive at the touch of a guilty person, -but if not guilty, it would not; by this means they generally -frightened the ignorant into confessions; for if the bell would -rive, the person was then to be condemned to death; but -they magnified the matter so, that the bell was never put to -the trial, till George did as follows: he was taken up for saying, -that the pope was fallible himself, and could not pardon -the sins of others. George owned he said so, but would refer -to the bell whether he was guilty or not. The priests, though -unwilling, were obliged to comply. George touched the bell, -repeating as before, The Pope is fallible, and cannot pardon -sin, moreover added, The Pope and Popish clergy are impostors; -and thereupon touched the bell, referring to it for the -truth; but the bell not renting, the priests were disgraced as -impostors, and he was honourably acquited, and the bell was -laid aside.</p> - -<p>George desired a member of the College of St. Andrews to -lend him a book: the other told him, he could not possibly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -spare it out of his chamber, but if he pleased he might come -there and read all the day long. Some time after the gentleman -sends to George to borrow his bellows; but he sent him -word, he could not possibly spare them out of his chamber, -but he might come there and blow all the day if he would.<a id="FNanchor_203" href="#Footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a></p> - -<p>A scholar at the grammar school of St. Andrews, coming -into a room where the master had laid down a basket of -cherries for his own eating, the waggish boy takes it up, and -cries aloud, I publish the banns between these cherries and -my mouth, if any know any just cause or impediment, why -these two should not be joined together, let them declare -it. The master being in the next room, overheard all that -was said; and, coming into the school, he ordered the boy -who had eaten his cherries to be taken up, or, as he called it, -horsed on another boy’s back: but before he proceeded to the -usual discipline, he cries out aloud, as the delinquent had done, -I publish the banns between this boy’s breeches and my taws: -if any one knows any just cause or impediment why these -two should not be joined together, let them declare it. George -passing by in the mean time, overheard this proclamation; I -forbid the banns, cried he. Why so, says the schoolmaster? -Because the parties are not agreed, replied he. Which answer -so pleased the master, that the boy was set down without any -punishment.</p> - -<p>A young gentleman that wanted to be witty on the scriptures, -eating some cheese full of mites, one night at a tavern; -now, said he, I have done as much as Sampson, for I have -slain my thousands and ten thousands. Yes, replied George, -who happened to be in his company, and with the same -weapon too, the jaw-bone of an ass; which answer set the -whole company a laughing to see the young gentleman beat -with his own weapon.</p> - -<p>George being in company where three bishops were present -at dinner, they knowing George to be a great scholar, and -comical withal, they put upon him to say the grace, which he -did as follows:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here are three brethren of the coat,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who for thy blessings thank thee not,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Curse them, Lord, and bless them not. Amen.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Fall on gentlemen, the cause is good. This grace made the -bishops look like fools to one another, while George laughed -heartily at the confusion they were in.</p> - -<p>A candle maker having had some candles stole, was telling -it in a company where George was present, who bade him be -of good cheer, for in a short time says he, I am assured they -will come to light.</p> - -<p>George being sent to Paris about some business, went from -thence to Versailles, to see the French king’s court: and being -known there to several of the courtiers, who had been at the -English court, one of them took occasion to tell the French -King, that George was one of the wittiest men in England; -upon which the French King desired to see him, which he did; -but George, it seems, was out of humour, or at least seemingly -so, he spoke but very little to the purpose; so that the French -King told the nobleman that had commended him for such a -wit, that he looked upon him as a very dull fellow; but the -nobleman assured the King that whatever he thought of him, -George was a very witty and ingenious man: whereupon the -King was resolved to make further trial of him, and took him -into a great gallery, where there were abundance of fine -pictures; and, among the rest, shewed him a picture of Christ -on the cross, and asked him, If he knew who that was? but -George made himself very ignorant, and answered, no; Why, -says the King, I’ll tell you, if you don’t know; this is the -picture of our Saviour on the cross, and that on the right is -the Pope’s, and that on the left is my own. Whereupon -George replied, I humbly thank your majesty for the information, -for though I have often heard that our Saviour was -crucified between two thieves, yet I never knew who they -were before.</p> - -<p>A sharper who had acquired vast riches by cheating, told -George, that if such a thing as a good name was to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -purchased, he would freely give ten thousand pounds for one. -Sir, said George, it would certainly be the worst money you -ever laid out in your life. Why so? said the sharper; because -answered he, you will lose it again in less than a week.</p> - -<p>One asked George, why men always made suit to the women, -and the women never to the men? Why, says he, because -the women are always ready for the men, but the men are not -always ready for the women.</p> - -<p>George went into the mint one day, when they were melting -gold, one of them asked George, if he would have his hat full -of gold? George readily accepted, but it burnt the bottom -out of his hat, as they knew it would, and for that bout they -fooled George. However George, to be up with them, bought -a fine large hat, and caused a plate of copper to be put betwixt -the hat and the lining, and returned next day, they jestingly -asked him if he would have another hatful of gold? he said -he would; they gave it red hot, and now George laughed at -them in his turn, telling them, that this new hat was a good -one, and stood fire better than the old one; and so carried it -off honestly; and being afterwards prosecute for to return it, he -excused himself, telling the judge, that he took nothing but -what was given him; and therefore he was honourably -acquitted, and the others heartily laughed at.</p> - -<p>In the reign of king James the Sixth, George dining one -day with the Lord Mayor, after two or three healths the -ministry was tossed; but when it came to George’s turn to -drink he diverted it some time by telling a story to the person -who sat next him; the chief magistrate not seeing his toast -go round, called out, What sticks the ministry at? At -nothing, cries George, and so drank off his glass.</p> - -<p>George being one day along with the king and his nobles -a-hunting, and being but very sorrily mounted; when he was -spurring up his horse, he observed the horse have a trick of -falling down on his knees. George immediately thought how -he should make use of that very thing to divert his Majesty; -therefore pretended that his horse could set hares, and knowing -some hare-seats, rode that way, to show the truth of what<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -he affirmed; and when he had found the hare, by giving his -horse a spur, he immediately clapped down; this he repeated -several times, till he put the whole company in belief that -what he said was true; and one of the noblemen being -charmed with the performance of George’s horse, would have -George to change with him; George seemed, at first, unwilling -to part with his horse; but at last was prevailed upon to part -with him for the nobleman’s horse, and a hundred guineas to -boot. But afterwards riding thro’ a pretty deep river, the -nobleman spurring his new horse, he clapped down on his -belly; which George seeing, called out to the company to -return with the dogs, for the nobleman’s horse had certainly -set a hare: which set the whole company a-laughing. The -poor nobleman was obliged to leave his horse set in the water, -and waded through on foot, all wet to the shoulders.<a id="FNanchor_204" href="#Footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a></p> - -<p>A Scotsman being reduced to poverty, made his court to -George to put him in a way; George told him he would, -provided he would do as he directed him. There was an old -miser, an usurer and money-changer hard by; George ordered -the poor fellow to pretend an errand to the miser, and when -he came to the table where the heaps of money lay, to thrust -his hand among the gold, but to lift none, and run off. This -the poor fellow did, and was chased by the miser and his -servants, who ran after him into the street, calling stop the -thief; the poor fellow was stopt, (as George had desired him -to let them catch him). George appeared in the mob, and -went along with the poor fellow, who was carried before -a judge, where he was searched; and nothing being found -upon him, he was acquitted, and the miser fined in a large -sum for accusing him. Afterwards George desired him to go -to the same place, and thrust in both his hands, and lift up as -much as he could and run off. This he did, but the miser -told him, he was not such a fool as to follow him, for he knew -he only desired to play the fool to have him fined again. By -this means the poor fellow was enriched, and afterwards lived -honestly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span></p> - -<p>George being at dinner one day, where the broth was very -hot, burnt his mouth, and at the same time letting go a loud -fart; It is very good for you, says George, that you made -your escape, for I should have burnt you alive had you staid.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-IV"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART IV.</h3> -</div> - -<p>A young curate, with more pertness than wit or learning, -being asked in company, how he came to take it into his head -to enter into the ministry of the church? Because, said he, -the Lord hath need of me. That may be, replied George, who -was present, for I have often heard that the Lord had once -need of an ass.</p> - -<p>After this, George being sent with the British ambassador -into Italy, by the way of Paris; and as they were viewing the -beautiful statues, and large buildings of that spacious city: -the King, and many of his nobles in company, as they were -walking through the King’s garden, among the images of the -saints, they came to the image of the virgin Mary, who stood -in a melancholy posture with the babe in her arms, one of the -noblemen says to the British ambassador, don’t you think but -she looks as she were angry? O yes, says George, she’s angry -when she sees Englishmen and Frenchmen in friendship and -unity one with another. No, no, said the French king she -loves nothing better than the reconciliation of enemies; peace -and unity is her delight. Then George gets in below the -statue, and looks up; O, says George, I know what is the -matter now, some body has driven a great nail in her arse, I -see the head of it sticking out, it would vex any living be’s a -piece of wood. At this the king was greatly enraged against -George for saying so, for calling her a piece of wood; and -nothing would satisfy the King, unless that George would fall -down and worship the Virgin Mary, and crave mercy of her -for the blasphemous reproaches wherewith he hath reproached -her. Then George cries out, O may it please your majesty to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -omit it at this time, I dare not look her in the face, she frowns -on me with such an angry countenance, this dutiful command -of your’s must be delayed until I return from Italy, and then -I shall fulfill your demand, in paying all dutiful respects and -worship unto her, according to what she is. So here the ambassador -stood bound for George, that he should perform this -piece of worship at his return, according to the king’s pleasure.</p> - -<p>Now, during their stay in Italy, they chanced to be in a nobleman’s -house where they kept but few servants, because of a -spirit that did haunt the house for the space of 200 years before -that time, so that no servant could work any kind of -labour in or about the house for it, except cooks, for what they -vulgarly called a Brownie, it did all itself, and would suffer no -fellow labourer to work along with it. On the next morning, -George got up pretty early, called for water to wash himself; -then directly comes the Brownie with a bason of water in the one -hand, and a clean cloth in the other. George perceiving him -having such a pale ghostly countenance, not to be an earthly -creature said, of what nation art thou? To which it answered -in Galic or Earse, a countryman of yours, Sir. The ambassador -smiled, and joked George, telling him, it was a devil, and how -could it be a countryman of his? O, says George, I’ll show you -the contrary of that, for the devil dare not stay in our country, -George having washed himself, it came again to take away the -bason and water; then says George, and how long is it since -you left your own country? About 250 years ago, says it. -Then certainly, says he, thou art a devil, and not an earthly -creature. To which he answered,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">I am what I am, and a Christian too.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Then I am what I am to conjure you. (says George.)</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">He taking a handful of water, and throwing it on the old -withered face of it, repeating the form of the words of baptism -of Earse; saying, if thou be a Christian, thou art old -enough now to be baptized. No sooner had he done this, but -it went off weeping and crying, O! let never a rogue put trust -in his countryman after me. Now, says George, I told you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -the devil dare not stay in my country, nor yet look a Scotsman -in the face in his own. Why, says the Italian lord, do you -imagine, that this is the devil’s own country? It appears so -says George, for he is the oldest residenter in it I know; but -my lord, said he, and if it please your grace, I think the -clergymen are very scant in this country, when you have kept -the devil so long for a chaplain. The nobleman unto this gave -no answer, but expressed his sorrow to be very great for the -loss of his Brownie.</p> - -<p>Now the ambassador having done his business in Italy they -returned homeward, and on their way, the ambassador began -to question George how he thought to escape Paris without -committing idolatry. No, no, says George, I never did worship -any image, nor never shall; but I shall make them worship -the worst that is in my guts. No sooner were they -arrived in Paris, but George leaves the ambassador, and goes -directly to the Virgin Mary, jumps in over the rail to the holy -ground (as they termed it) whereon she stood, where few durst -go but priests and friars; and there he loosed his breeches, -and made such a groaning, easing himself, that he was heard at -a distance by the priests and friars who were walking near by, -and they perceiving this heinous abomination, ran upon him -like a pack of hounds, and carried him before the cardinals and -Father confessors, where he was allowed to speak for himself, -which he did as follows—May it please your most excellent -Worships to hear my reasons, before you pronounce my -sentence to be put in execution against me. It was my fortune -to be passing through this city a few months ago, with the -British ambassador, on our way to Italy; and one day being -walking in the kings garden in presence of the king, and many -of his nobles, who can bear witness to the truth of the same; -I being ignorant of your traditions and rites of religion, foolishly -offended, reproaching the Virgin Mary to her face; and ever -since she has plagued me with a boundness in my belly, that -I have voided nothing but clean hach; so now on my return -I went and implored her to open my fundament, and she has -done so; I being overjoyed at the miraculous healing, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -getting passage in her presence, I left it as a memorial of the -miracle in that place. When hearing this, they all with one -consent, lifted up their hands and blessed the Virgin Mary for -the wonderful miracle she had done; and ordered George to -go about his business, and declare unto all what was done, to -him by the holy Virgin, for the confirmation of their religion. -So all the devout Romans came to view his dung, and worship -over it; the king himself kneeled down, and worshipped, bowing -his body over it, in presence of many people; and also -caused a holy day to be observed thro’ all his dominions, for -the miraculous cure.</p> - -<p>Now George being a long time absent from Britain, he -thought to go and visit the king and his court in disguise. -He meeting with an old man driving two old horses, loaded -with coals to sell. George here makes a bargain with the old -man, for the loan of his clothes, his horses and coals, whip, and -every thing to complete him as a real coal-driver; so away he -goes in this dress, until he came before the king’s palace, where -he began to cry with an audible voice, Buy coals, buy coals; -better buy than borrow. Now the king being in company -with his young chaplain, who was a foundling, none knew his -original, and had been suffered and educated out of charity -by the king’s father, yet he was become as proud as lucifer, -and as proud in his own conceit as the king himself. Now, -the king knowing George’s voice, tho’ he was in a coalman’s -dress, desired the chaplain to ask the coalman why he called so -loud, making such a terrible noise. The chaplain opened the -window, and with great airs called unto him, You, Sir, why do -you cry so for? Why, says George, I cry for people to come -and buy my coals, and give me money for them; but what do -you cry for? What, sir, says the young priest, I cry for you -to hold your peace. Then, says George, come here then, and -cry for me, and go sell my coals, and I will hold my peace. -Sell my coals, says the priest, do you know unto whom you -speak? Yes, I do know, says George, but you do not. What -are you? says the priest; I am a mortal, and so are you, says -George. What is your father’s name, since you will not tell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -your own? says the priest: You may go ask that at my -mother, says George, for I was not sufficient when she got me -to know him. What, says the priest, do you not know your -own father? I know my mother, and my mother did know -my father, says George, and that is sufficient, and more than -you can say, perhaps. The priest thinking he was coming too -near him, thought to put him off with a scriptural question, -by asking him, If he knew who was Melchizedec’s father? -Indeed, master priest, says George, Melchizedec’s descent was -not counted, neither is yours, then who can declare your -generation? The priest, at this answer, would stand the -argument no longer, but closed the window in great haste, -while the king, and all who knew the priest to be a foundling, -were like to split their sides laughing; so George went off -with his coals, and the priest became more humble than he -was, formerly, for he thought that every body knew who he -was, when the coalman knew so well.</p> - -<p>One night after this, an English ’squire, who profess’d to -be better versed in poetry than George, laid a wager with -another gentleman, five guineas against one, that George -could not metre the first words he would say to him in -the morning, when newly awaked out of his sleep: so the -gentleman went the night before, and told George the story, -and bade him be on his guard, for in the morning they would -certainly come, and that right early. At midnight and you -will, says George, I’ll order my servant to let you in. So the -English ’squire sat up all night conferring with his friends, -whether to put a high verse to him, or mean and simple words, -thinking George would be sitting up all night meditating on an -answer; so they all agreed, that mean and simple words he -would not be thinking on, and have no answer provided for -such. Then away they came in the morning very early, with -several gentlemen in company to hear the diversion. George’s -servant opened the door according to his master’s orders. -The ’squire entered the room first, and wakened George out -of his sleep, then said,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Rise up you madman, and put on your cloathes.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">To which George answered,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">O thou hast lost thy wad man, for I’m none of those.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">The English ’squire confessed he was fairly beat, and would -match him with no more. Then another gentleman would -hold five guineas, that he would give him a word or line, that -he could not metre at the first answer; and to answer it -directly as soon as he had done speaking; but George ordered -him first to table the money, and then to proceed, which he -did in all haste; and said as follows:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">My belly rumbl’d, and then I farted.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">George gripping to the money, answered,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">A fool and his money is soon parted.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Then they all cried out, he was fairly beat, and what George -had said, was realy true; but he never would lay any more -wagers concerning poetry.</p> - -<p>After this George got a letter from a bishop, telling him, -that he was coming to visit him, and take dinner with him in -his lodging; George sent an answer, that he would wait upon -his lordship at the day appointed; but well did George know, -it was not for any love he had unto him, he was coming to -visit him, but to spy fairlies; therefore he thought he should -give him something to talk about. So George sent his servant -to a bookseller’s shop to buy a dozen of small pamphlets, about -a halfpenny a piece; such as a groat’s worth of wit for a penny, -the history of the king and the cobler, and such pieces as these; -taking all his own books away, and putting the pamphlets in -their place, which he presented to the bishop, when he asked -for a sight of his library. What, says the bishop, have you no -more books but these? No more, says George, but my bible; -just no more. O! says the bishop, I wonder how you can either -speak plain, or write a perfect sentence, when you have no other -books than these. O! says George, do you think that I am a -clergyman, to borrow other men’s sermons to beautify my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -works: no, no, not I: all that I write I dite, I meditate out of -my own brain. This check concerning borrowing put the -bishop in a cold sweat, yet he concealed his passion. Then -George called to his servant, if dinner was ready yet? to which -he answered, Come, master, come, the pot is on the boil, get -out the meal pock: then George came into the room where -his servant was, and set the bishop at the one side of the fire, -and sat down on the other himself, while his servant made a -great bowl full of milk brose, and set them between the bishop -and George; then George desired his lordship to ask a blessing -to what they were to receive, the bishop did not know what -he meaned by a blessing, it not being usual for the English to -do so, asked at George what it was? But George took up a -great ram horn spoon, and put it in the bishop’s hand, saying, -There it is, my lord. What, says the bishop, call you that a -blessing? we call that a spoon. O my lord, says George, it -is the best blessing you can ask, if you do not come empty. -Well, says the bishop, and how do you call that scalded meal? -says George, we call it Scots brose. O! said the bishop, I -cannot eat it. O! says he, the thing we cannot eat we sup, -my lord, since you are in a Scotsman’s house, you must partake -of a Scotsman’s victuals. Then says the bishop, I always -thought the Scots lived well till now; I would not be a Scotsman -for the world. O said George, if a Scotsman live but -twenty years, and get but nineteen years meat, he cannot be -badly off. What, not badly off, and want a year’s victuals? -said the bishop; upon my word of honour, if I wanted one -days victuals, I’d be sure to die the next. O, says George, -we drink water when we cannot do better, and that puts us -in remembrance of wealth; for a dish of contentment is good -cheer. Then, said the bishop, I’ll drink water too if it be -good for the memory. Ay do; said George, and you’ll -remember me when you do so. Now, after dinner, the -bishop took his leave of George, and desired him next day -to come and dine with him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span></p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-V"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART V.</h3> -</div> - -<p>Next day, George, according to his promise, went to the -bishop’s lodging; but no sooner did the bishop see George, -than he saluted him with these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Your servant, master wise man,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And yet you have no books:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">How can one have knowledge,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That no man instructs?</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">George answered,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Your servant, master bishop,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Your salutation’s good:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Your knowledge is in your library,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">While other’s is in their hood.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Now, after a sumptuous dinner, the bishop took George into -his library, showing him a great quantity of books; which -George praised very much, and among the rest, was an old -Hebrew Bible, which George taking up, asked the bishop what -book it was? the bishop looking at it very sincerely, said he -could not tell. Why then do you keep a book, you don’t -know the name of? It may be the book of black art. No, -I don’t think that, said the bishop, but can you tell what it is? -Yes, says George, it is the Bible, the best book for a bishop I -know, if he had eyes to see the inside of it. So he desired -George to read a piece of it: but when he did, he could not -understand it; therefore, he desired him to explain it: which -sentence he did as follows, Isaiah ix. 19, “For the leaders of -this people cause them to err: and they that are led of them, -are destroyed.” To which George added, This is the blind -leading the blind. So, taking his leave of the bishop, he -parted with him, saying these words:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Good night, hail master bishop,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Of books you have great store;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet cannot read the half of them;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Then what use are they for?</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Many of the clergymen in England desired greatly to be in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> -company of George, because of his comical and witty expressions; -so George happened one night to be called into a company, -where there were two bishops, as also a priest who -wanted to be licensed by them. One of the bishops asked -George, why the people in Scotland did not love bishops? -Because, says George, they are like old beggars, advanced to -be rulers over barrow-men, still instructing them in things they -know not themselves, ordering them to carry stones to the -builders, which they will not receive, and which they themselves -had never power to move; the Scots having knowledge -of this, hate to see bishops have great lordships for their -ignorance, and the poor labourer have little or nothing for -their toil. One of the bishops looking at George, with an -angry countenance, answered, saying, You Scot must be made -a bishop yourself, and we bishops made priests, and that will -serve well for your turn. No, no, said George, that will not -do; for if I be made a bishop, I’ll have no broken bishops to -serve as priests under me, for they are such bad masters -they’ll become the worst of all servants. At this the two -bishops left the room in a great passion, leaving George and -the young priest only by themselves. Now, now, says George, -this proves the bishops to be but hirelings, and not true shepherds, -pointing to the young priest, you see they are fled for -their own safety and they have left you a lamb, before the -mouth of me a fox, and who knows but I may worry you! -Run, run, too, master sheep, says George, and if you have eyes -guide them two blind shepherds down stairs, and over ditches, -but I am afraid you’ll tumble all in a ditch together. This -raised such an indignation in the bishops’ breasts, that they -desired no more of George’s company or conversation.</p> - -<p>One time after this, George being in the country about -twenty miles from London, and on his way homeward, came -up after him a fine gilded coach, which George being informed -belonged to the bishop of Canterbury, and was going to -London for his lordship; George addresses himself to the -coachman, for to have a passage with him in the coach to -London; so he bargained with the coachman for two dollars -to carry him to the Bell inn on London bridge; the one he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -gave him in hand, as he entered the coach door, and the other -he was to give him as soon as ever he would see him come -out at the coach door; so away the coachman drives for -London in all haste; in which time George wrote the following -MOTTO:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">Here sits the bishop of Canterbury,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who at the schools disdain’d to tarry,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Far better skill’d at games than preaching.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Although he lives by others teaching</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Blind leaders of the blind indeed;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">’Tis blind and lame who chariots need,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Six brutes with eyes, this brute doth carry,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I mean the bishop of Canterbury.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">My feet being lame, I gave a dollar,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To be drove in state like you a scholar;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For which, myself I do abhor;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shame caus’d me make another door.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>These lines George battered upon the inside of the coach, -and when he came within a mile of London, took a knife, and -cut a great hole in the backside of the coach, where he came -out; and to make his promise good to the coachman, that he -was to give him the other dollar as soon as ever he saw him -come out at the coach-door. The poor coachman drove on -till he came to the foresaid inn, where he alighted and opened -the door to let out his passenger; but seeing the coach empty, -and a great hole in the backside of it, he cried out, he believed -he had had the devil in the coach, and that he had taken away -the backside of it with him. The people of the inn came all -flocking about to see what was done, and then perceiving the -lines on the inside of the coach, which the bishop came and -read himself, they all concluded it to be done by George, but -could make nothing of it; for, the bishop said, to pursue him -might make it worse, but no better.</p> - -<p>George was invited one day by a great lawyer to come and -see a new building which he had lately built of fine freestone -and marble. He desired George to guess what it was built -with; George answers, Do you think that I do not know<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span> -what it is built with: No, you do not, says the lawyer: Yes, -I do, says George; it cannot stand long, for malice and -hatred is the mortar of it, and the stones are the heads of -foolish people, polished over with the tongue of an ass. What, -says the lawyer, do you compare me to an ass? O! sir, don’t -you remember that an ass was made an advocate, and spoke -against Balaam. The lawyer to this would give no answer, -but took good night of George.</p> - -<p>Three merchants, pedlars (as they professed to be) came -with a pack of goods, to put a trick upon a widow Woman -who kept an inn on the highway side; after they had drunk -very hearty, they desired the Woman to lay up the pack -securely, and charged her strictly, before witnesses, to deliver -it to none of them, unless they came altogether for it again, -and in about three weeks thereafter, two of them returned and -desired the woman to give them the pack: telling her, that -the other man was gone to such a fair with another -pack, where they were all to meet; and that they were -fellow-travellers, conjunct in trade, and how they all had a -right to the pack alike; whereupon the poor simple Woman, -not dreading any further harm, gave them the pack. So in a -few days thereafter, the other man comes and demands the -pack; the honest Woman told him plainly, that the other two -men had been there before, and got it away: then he began -to demonstrate to the Woman, what great danger she was in, -and forthwith raised a process against her by law, which cost -the poor Woman a vast of money to defend, as the plea continued -more than two full years: and a great court being one -day to sit upon the process to decide it, which would undoubtedly -have been done in favour of the pursuer, the proof -being so clear, and the woman herself not denying what the -bargain was when she got the pack to keep. The poor -Woman being in great straits, her purse being turned empty, -and her attorney told her plainly, as her money was done, he -could no longer defend her; the Woman once more plucked -up her heart, and went to London to employ a new attorney to -speak for her; but for want of gold, she could get none to -undertake it. George being in a house where he heard the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -poor Woman making a mournful complaint to one of her -attornies, who gave her no comfort or satisfaction; for when -she told him, she had no money to spend, or give in defence of -it, the attorney went away and would hear no more of the -Woman’s grievous complaint, which made George to laugh -very heartily, while the poor Widow sat weeping like one distracted. -Poor woman, says George, you need not think that -man will speak a word for you, or any else, unless you had -brought him a purse of gold to loose his tongue; but as I have -got a scheme in the matter, you may go home, and have -patience until the time come; and then, my life for yours, poor -Woman, that I shall send you an attorney, who will do your -business for nothing. He gave the poor Woman more courage -than any she had spoken with in London; for every one told -her, that all the attornies in the World could not free her. So -accordingly at the day appointed, George dressed himself -like an attorney with his gown, and every thing as he had been -really so. The court being fenced, and the process read over, -expences and the value of the pack, having amounted to above -seven hundred pounds, was ordered to be put in decreet -against the poor Widow, which every one was bemoaning, but -could give her no relief. Now George kept himself silent, -hearing them all with great patience, until the very nick of -time, he thought proper to address himself to the judges as -followeth. My lords, judges and gentlemen of this honourable -Court and company, I have come from London, gratis, out of -pure pity, to speak a word or two in favour of this poor -Woman, who hath exhausted all her means in defence of -a false accusation charged against her; and now when her -money is gone, her speakers are dumb, and I see none to -plead the cause of this poor Widow. Now, when sentence is -upon the tapis of being pronounced against her, I earnestly -desire this court to modify and drop the expences altogether. -It is enough when the poor Woman has the pack to pay: for -you all know the woman was no way enriched by it, when the -other two men got it away. Then the pursuers attorney -made answer as follows. Sir, I would have thought that you, -who have come from London, and professes to be a doctor of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span> -law, should know better things; know ye not, that he who -gains the plea, gains his expences as well as the sum, or be -what it will. Yes, it must, and shall be so, said the judges. -Then, said George, This is all I want; which set the whole -court a-laughing, thinking he was a fool and become an -adversary to the poor Woman. Give over your sport, gentlemen, -says George, I have not done yet.—My lords, judges, -you’ll bear me in this, if the poor Woman made a bargain -with this merchant, and the other two who was with him, for -to keep that pack safely, and to deliver it to none of them, -until they were all three present; now, let that man, who is -here at the time, go and seek the other two, and they shall -have their pack, for she has the pack safe enough; but she -will keep by her first bargain. So I refer to you, judges and -gentlemen, if this poor Woman be not in the right. This -made the judges look one to another, and the whole Court -with one voice, declared the Woman to be in the right, and -ordered the pursuer to go and seek his two companions. No, -no, says George, the poor Woman must first have her expences, -or security for it. Then the judges caused the pursuer to be -arrested at the bar, until the Woman got satisfaction for all -her trouble and expences. So George returned to London -unknown, but for an advocate, whose fame was spread over -all England; which caused many who had law-suits to search -through London for him, but could never find the advocate -who had gained the Widow’s law-plea.</p> - -<p>George being one day in the country, and coming thro’ a -village, there came a great big mastiff dog and gripped him -by the leg, until the blood followed his long teeth; George, -with one stroke of his cane came over his eyes, until he fell -down and died upon the spot; ’tis well for thee, says George, -that I killed thee before thou wast brought to justice, for thou -hadst certainly been hanged for what thou hast done, and thy -master severely fined for keeping thee. The owner of the dog -hearing George say so, went off without speaking a word to -George, for fear it had been so.</p> - -<p>A country gentleman came one time, and enquired at -George what he thought was the reason he lost every law-suit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -or plea he set his face to; though never so just a claim, the -law went still against him. George asked him, whom he -employed, and he told him, that he was one of the best and -ablest attorneys in England. Yes, says George, I believe he -may be so; but when you go to law again, if you have a mind -to win it, when you give your own attorney a guinea give your -adversary two; for these attornies are much after the nature -of an ass, they won’t speak right, if you do not throw a multitude -of angels before them (meaning pieces of English money, -called angels by name). The gentleman returned in a few -weeks thereafter, and heartily thanked George for his good -advice, for he was not afraid now, but he could gain any plea -he took in hand, just or unjust.<a id="FNanchor_205" href="#Footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a></p> - -<p>Two drunken fellows one day fell a-beating one another on -the streets of London, which caused a great croud of people to -throng together to see what it was; a taylor being at work up -in a high garret, about three or four stories high, and he hearing -the noise in the street, looked over the window, but could -not well see them; he began to stretch himself, making -a long neck until he fell down out of the window, and -alighted on an old man, who was walking on the street: the -poor taylor was more afraid than hurt, but the man he fell on -died directly. His son caused the taylor to be apprehended, -and tried for the murder of his father; the jury could not -bring it in as wilful murder, neither could they altogether -free the taylor; the jury gave it over to the judges, and the -judges to the king: the king asked George’s advice in -this hard matter. Why, says George, I will give you my -opinion in a minute; you must cause the taylor to stand in the -street, in the same place where the old gentleman was when -he was killed by the taylor, and then let the old gentleman’s -son, the taylor’s adversary, go up to the window from whence -the taylor fell, and jump down, and so kill the taylor, as he did -his father; for I can make no more of it. You see it was a -great mercy for the taylor he had the old gentleman below<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -him, else he had been killed on the spot; and that it was the -old gentleman’s lot or misfortune to die there. The taylor’s -adversary hearing this sentence past, he would not venture to -jump over the window, and so the taylor got clear off.</p> - - -<hr class="r10" /> - -<div class="chapter" id="wee-VI"> -<h3 class="lsp2">PART VI.</h3> -</div> - -<p>George being one night in company with some English -noblemen in presence of the king, they began to demonstrate -such a fine place as England was, both for beautiful buildings -and fruitful fields: one gentleman said, he knew a place in -England, though they should crop the grass even with the -ground at night, and lay down a crown on it before a hundred -witnesses, against to-morrow you would not know where to find -it. That may seem very strange to some, says George, but it -is no mystery to me, knowing, there would be enough of them -who saw the crown-piece laid down, ready for to come and -take it up before tomorrow. But, says George, I know a place -in the west of Scotland, where, if you’ll tether a horse at night, -against the next morning you will not see him. What a pox -will take him away? says the Englishman. Only such people, -says George, as will take away your crown-piece. O! says -the English nobleman, you know what I mean. Then, says -George, you talk much of towns you have in England, I know -three towns in poor Scotland, for properties you have none -such. Pray, says the gentleman, what are these properties? -Why, says George, I know one town where there is a hundred -bone bridges in it; another town where there are fifty draw-bridges -in it; another town where, tho’ a man commits murder, -treason, or owes never so much money, he runs to that town, -and gets in below a stair, no laws nor justice can harm him. -The nobleman offered immediately to stake a hundred pounds, -that there was no such towns in Europe, besides in Scotland. -They desired George to tell but the names of those towns, for -they would find him out, and know whether lie was a liar or -not. So he told their names, and two men were sent to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> -Scotland to see them: the first was Duddingstone, near Edinburgh, -where they came and asked for the bone bridges there; -and the people shewed them steps almost between every door, -of the sculls of sheeps-heads, which they used as stepping-stones. -The second was a little country village between Stirling -and Perth, called Auchterardoch,<a id="FNanchor_206" href="#Footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a> where there is a large -strand which runs through the middle of the town, and almost -at every door there is a long stock or stone laid over the -strand, whereupon they pass to their opposite neighbours, and -when a flood came, they would lift their wooden bridges, in -case they should be taken away, and these they called their -draw-bridges. The third was a village called Cambusbarron, -which they pass through from one end to the other, but -there was not a stair in it all; so they returned to England, -and told what manner of bone and draw-bridges they were: -and how there was not a stair in all that place, therefore no -man could run in below it.</p> - -<p>As George was on the road travelling to London, the -weather being very rainy and cold, he alighted at an inn to -refresh and warm himself; but the fire-side was so surrounded -with people, he could scarce see the fire: George finding this -to be the case calls to the hostler, and orders to give his horse -at the door half a peck of oysters: You mean oats, Sir: No, -no, says George, it is oysters; and base is that horse, that will -not eat oysters. The people at the fire hearing this, all started -up and ran to the door to see the horse eating oysters: the -moment they left their seats, George took an opportunity to -plant himself before the fire, with a table and a cloth beside -him. In a little they came back again, one by one, saying, -This horse will eat no oysters: Well, well, says George, he is -either too full, or too saucy; so you may bring them in, and I -will eat them myself.<a id="FNanchor_207" href="#Footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Now George being old, and highly advanced in years; -finding his natural strength and state of health daily decaying, -he petitioned king James to let him return to Scotland, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -to visit his friends, and land of his nativity; which he most -willingly granted, (not knowing his design was never to return) -for George had a great desire to resign his soul and breath in -that place of the world, where he received them; and that his -body and bones might be laid among his ancestors, which was -counted a great honour in former ages.</p> - -<p>So accordingly George came to the parish of Buchanan, in -the west of Scotland, where he visited all his friends and -relations before his death, during which time the king sent -several messages to him to return in all the haste he could; -but he absolutely refused, telling him, that he would never see -him again: which grieved the king very much to hear him -express himself in that manner. After this, the king sent -him a letter, threatening him very sharply, if he did not appear -in London in the space of twenty days, he would send his lyon -heralds with a party, who would bring him to London, whether -he would or not. Unto which, as an answer, George sent him -a famous letter of admonition, both anent the government of -his kingdoms, and the well being of his soul, which caused the -king to weep very bitterly, when he read it over, with the -following verse:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indent0">My honour’d liege, and sovereign king,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of your boasting great, I dread nothing:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On your feud or favour I’ll fairly venture:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">E’er that day I’ll be where few kings will enter.</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="p4 smcap center">Finis.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span><br /> - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span><br /></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="p2 nobreak fs150 lsp" id="GLOSSARY">GLOSSARY.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowe5" id="sepgl"> - <img class="w100" src="images/sepgl.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - - -<div class="glossary"> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">A</span></p> - -<p><em>Ae</em>, <em>ane</em>, <em>ain</em>, one.</p> - -<p><em>A-bizin</em>, making a hissing noise, such as hot iron does in water.</p> - -<p><em>Ables</em>, perhaps, mayhap.</p> - -<p><em>Amry</em>, a cupboard or press.</p> - -<p><em>Assoilzied</em>, acquitted.</p> - -<p><em>A-thort</em>, along, across, about.</p> - -<p><em>Auld Nick</em>, a familiar name for the Devil.</p> - -<p><em>Aught</em>, possession.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">B</span></p> - -<p><em>Babee</em>, a copper coin of the value of a halfpenny sterling, - also applied to the English coin. The word is derived from the French - <em>bas-piece</em>, base money; though many believed it had its original - in the fact that during the minority of James VI. coins with the effigy - of the ‘baby’ king were issued.</p> - -<p><em>Badrons</em>, a cat.</p> - -<p><em>Baggity</em>, greedy.</p> - -<p><em>Baist</em>, great.</p> - -<p><em>Balk</em>, <em>bauk</em>, crossbeam in roof of a house; <em>hen-bauk</em>, - the beam where the fowls roosted, generally above the doorway.</p> - -<p><em>Bane-kame</em>, a dust-comb.</p> - -<p><em>Banning</em>, swearing.</p> - -<p><em>Bannock</em>, a thick oatmeal cake; sometimes a scone.</p> - -<p><em>Bannock-stane</em>, a stone used for supporting the girdle on the fire.</p> - -<p><em>Bap</em>, a kind of scone, baked with yeast, generally lozenge-shaped.</p> - -<p><em>Barronry</em>, barony.</p> - -<p><em>Bear</em>, barley.</p> - -<p><em>Beek’d</em>, warmed, heated by the sun.</p> - -<p><em>Be-go</em>, not an uncommon exclamation; probably a chewed oath.</p> - -<p><em>Begunk</em>, a cheat, a deception, properly a verb, but used as a noun - at p. 61, vol ii.</p> - -<p><em>Belling</em>, bubbling up like soapy water.</p> - -<p><em>Beltane</em>, the 1st of May, when, in the olden times, fires were lighted - in honour of the god Bel, or Baal. Many superstitious observances lingered - in this country until a century ago; and in some districts they are still - celebrated in a covert way. (<em>Vide</em> Shaw’s <em>Hist. Prov. Moray</em>.)</p> - -<p><em>Belyve</em>, by and bye, in a short time.</p> - -<p><em>Besom</em>, a brush or broom.</p> - -<p><em>Bicker</em>, a cup.</p> - -<p><em>Bide</em>, to stay, to endure.</p> - -<p><em>Bilchy</em>, strong, lusty.</p> - -<p><em>Bill</em>, a bull.</p> - -<p><em>Bittock</em>, a little bit, a short distance.</p> - -<p><em>Birr</em>, to make a whirring noise.</p> - -<p><em>Bizing</em>, v. <em>a-bizing</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Bladdering</em>, blethering, talking.</p> - -<p><em>Blate</em>, bashful.</p> - -<p><em>Blawirt</em>, the blue bottle plant, also known as witch-bells.</p> - -<p><em>Bleds</em>, blaids.</p> - -<p><em>Bletchers</em>, bleachers.</p> - -<p><em>Blewflum</em>, a sham.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span></p> - -<p><em>Bobet</em>, danced.</p> - -<p><em>Bock</em>, to vomit.</p> - -<p><em>Boggle</em>, a spectre or ghost.</p> - -<p><em>Bone-comb</em>, a dust-comb, so called from being made of bone instead of - horn.</p> - -<p><em>Boss</em>, empty; also, a vacancy.</p> - -<p><em>Bottle</em>, a sheaf.</p> - -<p><em>Bouk</em>, bulk.</p> - -<p><em>Bookie</em>, bulky.</p> - -<p><em>Boul-horn’d</em>, obstinate.</p> - -<p><em>Bow</em>, a boll.</p> - -<p><em>Bowed</em>, bent.</p> - -<p><em>Bow-kail</em>, kail or broth made with cabbage; also, a cabbage.</p> - -<p><em>Bowster</em>, a bolster.</p> - -<p><em>Brattle</em>, to make a clattering noise.</p> - -<p><em>Bray</em>, to grind.</p> - -<p><em>Brewket</em>, or <em>Brucket</em>, black and white streaked or spotted.</p> - -<p><em>Brizel’d</em>, bruised.</p> - -<p><em>Brochan</em>, thin oatmeal porridge.</p> - -<p><em>Brocket</em>, v. <em>Brewket</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Brogged</em>, pierced.</p> - -<p><em>Broe</em>, soup.</p> - -<p><em>Brogue</em>, a trick.</p> - -<p><em>Bublie-cock</em>, a turkey.</p> - -<p><em>Buckie</em>, a spiral shell.</p> - -<p><em>Bucking</em>, pushing, butting, fighting.</p> - -<p><em>Buckle</em>, to marry.</p> - -<p><em>Buckled</em>, married.</p> - -<p><em>Bun</em>, bound.</p> - -<p><em>Bute</em>, behoved.</p> - -<p><em>But and ben</em>, the outer and inner apartments of a house.</p> - -<p><em>Bystart</em>, bastard.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">C</span></p> - -<p><em>Caddled</em>, upturned, disordered.</p> - -<p><em>Caff-cog</em>, chaff-dish.</p> - -<p><em>Callan</em>, <em>Callen</em>, a boy, a young man.</p> - -<p><em>Caller</em>, fresh.</p> - -<p><em>Can’as</em>, canvas.</p> - -<p><em>Cannilie</em>, easily, gently.</p> - -<p><em>Cankerd</em>, cross, ill-natured.</p> - -<p><em>Cantrips</em>, charms, spells.</p> - -<p><em>Cap</em>, a wooden bowl.</p> - -<p><em>Capstride</em>, to cheat; originally, to drink out of one’s place in - company when the loving-cup was going round.</p> - -<p><em>Carle</em>, an old man.</p> - -<p><em>Carlin</em>, <em>carline</em>, an old woman.</p> - -<p><em>Cat and Dog</em>, a boy’s game. It is also known as <em>cat and bat</em>. - Jamieson suggests it was an early form of cricket. It is still common, and in - the summer season boys may be seen playing at it in any village in Scotland.</p> - -<p><em>Chafts</em>, cheeks, jaws.</p> - -<p><em>Chaft-blades</em>, cheek or jaw bones.</p> - -<p><em>Channering</em>, fretting.</p> - -<p><em>Chappen</em>, a quart measure.</p> - -<p><em>Cheek</em>, side.</p> - -<p><em>Cheek for chow</em>, side by side.</p> - -<p><em>Chiel</em>, <em>chield</em>, a servant, a young man.</p> - -<p><em>Chirten and chappen</em>, pressing and knocking.</p> - -<p><em>Chuckies</em>, hens.</p> - -<p><em>Claes</em>, clothes.</p> - -<p><em>Clarty</em>, dirty.</p> - -<p><em>Clash</em>, idle talk, gossip.</p> - -<p><em>Clatter</em>, talk.</p> - -<p><em>Clawing</em>, scratching, rubbing.</p> - -<p><em>Cleavings</em>, the lower part of the human body.</p> - -<p><em>Clipock</em>, a name given to a sharp-tongued woman, descriptive of her - failing.</p> - -<p><em>Clout</em>, a cloth; also, a knock.</p> - -<p><em>Clukny</em>, a hen.</p> - -<p><em>Clungest</em>, emptiest.</p> - -<p><em>Clutes</em>, hoofs, feet.</p> - -<p><em>Cobletehow</em>, probably hot-pressed in a fanciful way.</p> - -<p><em>Cod</em>, a pillow.</p> - -<p><em>Cogbonie</em>, <em>cogboin</em>, a little wooden trough for feeding sheep or - swine.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span></p> - -<p><em>Colly-shangy</em>, uproar, disturbance.</p> - -<p><em>Corse</em>, a cross, market place.</p> - -<p><em>Corse-claiths</em>, burial clothes.</p> - -<p><em>Couper</em>, a seller of horses or cattle. (v. <em>Introduction</em>, vol. - 1., p. 70.)</p> - -<p><em>Coupt</em>, tumbled.</p> - -<p><em>Couties</em>, colts.</p> - -<p><em>Cow</em>, to poll the head.</p> - -<p><em>Cracks</em>, talk, conversation.</p> - -<p><em>Creim</em>, a booth or shop.</p> - -<p><em>Crish</em>, grease.</p> - -<p><em>Crocket</em>, croaked.</p> - -<p><em>Cronoch</em>, a dirge, or death lamentation.</p> - -<p><em>Crouse</em>, courageous, brisk, lively.</p> - -<p><em>Crowdie</em>, gruel made of meal stirred in cold water.</p> - -<p><em>Curpen</em>, the crupper, the rump.</p> - -<p><em>Curple</em>, the crupper.</p> - -<p><em>Culli’d</em>, coaxed, cajoled.</p> - -<p><em>Cumstrarie</em>, perverse.</p> - -<p><em>Cupple-balk</em>, a rafter, v. <em>balk</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Curch</em>, to bend or move.</p> - -<p><em>Curr’d</em>, crouched.</p> - -<p><em>Curroch</em>, a small basket carriage.</p> - -<p><em>Cusser</em>, a stallion.</p> - -<p><em>Cussen</em>, cast.</p> - -<p><em>Cutties</em>, spoons.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">D</span></p> - -<p><em>Daddy</em>, father.</p> - -<p><em>Dadeling</em>, slovenly.</p> - -<p><em>Dadet</em>, struck, knocked.</p> - -<p><em>Daffing</em>, sporting, fun.</p> - -<p><em>Daft</em>, silly, stupid, giddy.</p> - -<p><em>Dale</em>, a long piece or deal of wood.</p> - -<p><em>Daly</em>, silly, dressed up like a doll.</p> - -<p><em>Dearth</em>, high price.</p> - -<p><em>Dighting</em>, cleaning, wiping, dressing.</p> - -<p><em>Ding</em>, to knock.</p> - -<p><em>Dinging</em>, knocking.</p> - -<p><em>Docus</em>, stupid, easily led.</p> - -<p><em>Dods</em>, ill-humour, sulks.</p> - -<p><em>Doil’d</em>, crazy, silly, in dotage.</p> - -<p><em>Doit</em>, an old Scotch coin, equal to a penny Scots, or the twelfth part - of an English penny; the word is used to signify worthlessness or extreme - poverty.</p> - -<p><em>Dorder-meat</em>, a bannock given to farm servants after stopping their - work, to stay their appetite until supper time; also a meal of any kind.</p> - -<p><em>Douce</em>, sedate, modest, quiet.</p> - -<p><em>Douked</em>, ducked, as in water.</p> - -<p><em>Doup</em>, the bottom of anything.</p> - -<p><em>Dows</em>, pigeons, doves.</p> - -<p><em>Dradgey</em>, a funeral, also the feasting accompanying it.</p> - -<p><em>Dramack</em>, <em>Drummock</em>, oatmeal and cold water mixed.</p> - -<p><em>Drouket</em>, drenched, wet to the skin.</p> - -<p><em>Druggit</em>, a kind of coarse cloth.</p> - -<p><em>Drummel’d</em>, made muddy, troubled.</p> - -<p><em>Dubs</em>, pools, gutters.</p> - -<p><em>Duds</em>, rags.</p> - -<p><em>Duddy</em>, ragged.</p> - -<p><em>Dufe</em>, a simpleton.</p> - -<p><em>Duket</em>, a dovecot.</p> - -<p><em>Dunting and Dangling</em>, knocking and swinging.</p> - -<p><em>Dwallion</em>, a dwelling.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">E</span></p> - -<p><em>Earding</em>, burying.</p> - -<p><em>Eerock</em>, a chicken.</p> - -<p><em>Elf-shot</em>, shot by fairies, or the disease produced by the injury, - bewitched.</p> - -<p><em>Ell</em>, a measure equal to three feet nine inches.</p> - -<p><em>Elshin</em>, a shoemaker’s awl.</p> - -<p><em>Elwand</em>, a wooden cloth measure, the length of an ell.</p> - -<p><em>Even</em>, to equal, or compare.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">F</span></p> - -<p><em>Fair strae death</em>, a death in the common course of nature. - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span></p> - -<p><em>Fairing</em>, a present given at a fair, a present generally.</p> - -<p><em>Fake</em>, a sight, vision.</p> - -<p><em>Farl</em>, an oatmeal cake.</p> - -<p><em>Fash</em>, trouble, bother.</p> - -<p><em>Fashious</em>, troublesome.</p> - -<p><em>Fashing</em>, troubling.</p> - -<p><em>Fastern’s-e’en</em>, the evening before the first day of Lent; - Shrove-Tuesday. Its annual return was made the occasion of many superstitious - observances.</p> - -<p><em>Fealins</em>, failings.</p> - -<p><em>Fecket</em>, an undershirt or waistcoat made of flannel or worsted.</p> - -<p><em>Feckless</em>, weak, poor-spirited.</p> - -<p><em>Feif-titty</em>, thief-sister.</p> - -<p><em>Feike</em>, screw, force.</p> - -<p><em>Fey</em>, try.</p> - -<p><em>Fied</em>, feed, engaged.</p> - -<p><em>Figs</em>, a petty oath.</p> - -<p><em>Fint</em>, <em>feint</em>, an interjection probably derived from the word - ‘fiend.’</p> - -<p><em>Flighter</em>, an unsteady, high-flown person.</p> - -<p><em>Fitting</em>, scolding.</p> - -<p><em>Fluke</em>, a flounder, or flat fish of any kind.</p> - -<p><em>Flyte</em>, to scold.</p> - -<p><em>Forfoughen</em>, exhausted, fatigued.</p> - -<p><em>Forjesket</em>, jaded; also, disreputable.</p> - -<p><em>Fornent</em>, opposite, or concerning.</p> - -<p><em>Freit</em>, <em>frit</em>, a superstition; also, a charm against evil.</p> - -<p><em>Fule haet</em>, very little.</p> - -<p><em>Fundred</em>, foundered.</p> - -<p><em>Furich</em>, bustle, haste, hurry.</p> - -<p><em>Furlat</em>, <em>furlet</em>, four pecks, a quarter of a boll.</p> - -<p><em>Futer</em>, a silly, useless person.</p> - -<p><em>Fyking</em>, troublesome, restless.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">G</span></p> - -<p><em>Gabbie</em>, dimin. of <em>Gab</em>, the mouth.</p> - -<p><em>Gaits</em>, goats.</p> - -<p><em>Gamon</em>, nonsense.</p> - -<p><em>Gate</em>, way, road.</p> - -<p><em>Gaun-gear</em>, live stock.</p> - -<p><em>Gaunting</em>, yawning.</p> - -<p><em>Gartan</em>, a garter.</p> - -<p><em>Gavel</em>, gable.</p> - -<p><em>Gear</em>, stock, possessions.</p> - -<p><em>Geid</em>, gave.</p> - -<p><em>Gemlet</em>, gimlet.</p> - -<p><em>Gigglet</em>, wanton.</p> - -<p><em>Gilly-gawkie</em>, <em>gilliegaukie</em>, a foolish woman.</p> - -<p><em>Gimmer</em>, a young woman.</p> - -<p><em>Girning</em>, fretful, petted.</p> - -<p><em>Girth</em>, saddle strap.</p> - -<p><em>Glaied</em>, <em>gly’d</em>, squint-eyed.</p> - -<p><em>Glam</em>, to snatch.</p> - -<p><em>Glaket</em>, foolish, light-headed.</p> - -<p><em>Goodman</em>, the master of a house.</p> - -<p><em>Goodum</em>, <em>guddame</em>, grandmother.</p> - -<p><em>Goodwife</em>, the mistress of a house.</p> - -<p><em>Gouls</em>, souls.</p> - -<p><em>Gourd</em>, gorged, swelled.</p> - -<p><em>Gowke</em>, the cuckoo; to <em>hunt the gowke</em> is to go on a foolish and - fruitless errand.</p> - -<p><em>Groats</em>, oats with the husks taken off.</p> - -<p><em>Grunkie</em>, a name applied to a pig.</p> - -<p><em>Gruzling</em>, grunting and boring for food as a sow does with its snout.</p> - -<p><em>Guidame</em>, v. <em>Goodum</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Gule-fitted</em>, yellow-footed.</p> - -<p><em>Gut</em>, the gout.</p> - -<p><em>Gutcher</em>, a grandfather; generally, forefathers.</p> - -<p><em>Gullie</em>, a large knife.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">H</span></p> - -<p><em>Haf-gate</em>, half-way.</p> - -<p><em>Hag</em>, an old woman.</p> - -<p><em>Hagwife</em>, a midwife.</p> - -<p><em>Hail yerts</em>, whole years.</p> - -<p><em>Haining</em>, saving, sparing.</p> - -<p><em>Hallen</em>, the square space in the doorway of a country house. - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span></p> - -<p><em>Hally-band</em>, the kirk session.</p> - -<p><em>Hamsheughs</em>, a disturbance; also, a misfortune.</p> - -<p><em>Hantle</em>, a considerable number.</p> - -<p><em>Harle</em>, a quantity; also, to draw or pull violently.</p> - -<p><em>Harn</em>, coarse pack-sheet.</p> - -<p><em>Harnes</em>, brains.</p> - -<p><em>Hate</em>, <em>haet</em>, a small quantity.</p> - -<p><em>Hatter</em>, a rash.</p> - -<p><em>Haverel</em>, a foolish talker.</p> - -<p><em>Heads and thraws</em>, lying alternately, heads and feet, like herring in - a barrel.</p> - -<p><em>Heckle</em>, a hook, a weaver’s comb.</p> - -<p><em>Herie</em>, a word used by married people towards each other, equivalent - to ‘my dear.’</p> - -<p><em>Herns</em>, v. <em>harns</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Heugh</em>, the shaft-head of a coal-pit.</p> - -<p><em>Hillocat</em>, <em>hillocket</em>, giddy, hair-brained.</p> - -<p><em>Hinderlets</em>, hind parts.</p> - -<p><em>Hirpling</em>, halting, walking slowly and painfully.</p> - -<p><em>Hizzy</em>, a girl, a huzzy.</p> - -<p><em>Hobble</em>, to dandle on the knee, an awkward style of walking, a state - of perplexity.</p> - -<p><em>Hodden-grey</em>, undyed woollen cloth.</p> - -<p><em>Hoddled</em>, waddled.</p> - -<p><em>Hoiting</em>, following, running.</p> - -<p><em>Hotchen</em>, swarming.</p> - -<p><em>Houdie</em>, <em>howdy</em>, a midwife.</p> - -<p><em>Houghed</em>, hamstrung.</p> - -<p><em>Hows</em>, hollows.</p> - -<p><em>Huggers</em>, stocking legs.</p> - -<p><em>Humeld</em>, without horns.</p> - -<p><em>Hurdies</em>, buttocks.</p> - -<p><em>Hurl</em>, noise, force.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">I</span></p> - -<p><em>Ill-far’d</em>, ill-looking, ugly.</p> - -<p><em>Imock-powder</em>, powder made of the shells of ants’ eggs.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">J</span></p> - -<p><em>Jamf</em>, <em>jamph</em>, to make sport of, to torment.</p> - -<p><em>Jimcrack</em>, a knock.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">K</span></p> - -<p><em>Kail</em>, vegetable broth.</p> - -<p><em>Kankert</em>, ill-natured.</p> - -<p><em>Keb</em>, jump at, be glad of.</p> - -<p><em>Kebbock</em>, a large cheese.</p> - -<p><em>Keckle</em>, to cackle.</p> - -<p><em>Keek</em>, to look slyly, or pryingly.</p> - -<p><em>Kill-kebber</em>, a support for a kiln.</p> - -<p><em>Kil-logie</em>, an open space before a kiln fire.</p> - -<p><em>Kimmer</em>, a gossip, or neighbour.</p> - -<p><em>Kite</em>, the stomach.</p> - -<p><em>Kittle</em>, to tickle; also, difficult.</p> - -<p><em>Knocking-stane</em>, a stone mortar, on which the hulls were broken off - the barley with a mallet.</p> - -<p><em>Knoist</em>, a lump.</p> - -<p><em>Kuddle</em>, to fondle, caress.</p> - -<p><em>Kye</em>, cows.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">L</span></p> - -<p><em>Laddock</em>, diminutive of lad.</p> - -<p><em>Lade</em>, a load.</p> - -<p><em>Lammas</em>, the 1st of August.</p> - -<p><em>Lang-gae</em>, the phrase, ‘before lang gae,’ signifies simply, before long.</p> - -<p><em>Lang-lonen</em>, all alone.</p> - -<p><em>Laveruck</em>, a lark.</p> - -<p><em>Leepet</em>, thin, meagre.</p> - -<p><em>Lenno</em>, thread-gauze.</p> - -<p><em>Leuch</em>, laughed.</p> - -<p><em>Libby</em>, properly <em>lippie</em>, a quarter of a peck.</p> - -<p><em>Libbet</em>, castrated.</p> - -<p><em>Lift</em>, the sky.</p> - -<p><em>Lingle</em>, a shoemaker’s thread; also, a bandage.</p> - -<p><em>Lingle-tailed</em>, applied to a woman wearing misfitting clothes.</p> - -<p><em>Lint</em>, flax.</p> - -<p><em>Litster</em>, a dyer.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span></p> - -<p><em>Litted</em>, dyed.</p> - -<p><em>Logie</em>, v. <em>kil-logie</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Loup</em>, to jump.</p> - -<p><em>Louting</em>, bending.</p> - -<p><em>Lufe</em>, the palm of the hand.</p> - -<p><em>Lugs</em>, the ears.</p> - -<p><em>Lum</em>, a chimney.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">M</span></p> - -<p><em>Maeslie-shanket</em>, probably a reference to bowed legs.</p> - -<p><em>Maggs</em>, a halfpenny; also a gratuity.</p> - -<p><em>Masket</em>, infused.</p> - -<p><em>Mauk</em>, a maggot.</p> - -<p><em>Mauky</em>, maggoty.</p> - -<p><em>Mauken</em>, a hare.</p> - -<p><em>Maumier</em>, mellower, sweeter, pleasanter.</p> - -<p><em>Mavis</em>, the thrush.</p> - -<p><em>Mawing</em>, mewing.</p> - -<p><em>Maw-turned</em>, sick, squeamish.</p> - -<p><em>Mense</em>, discretion, good manners.</p> - -<p><em>Mensefu’</em>, discreet, well-bred.</p> - -<p><em>Merk</em>, an old Scottish silver coin, equal to thirteenpence and one-third - of a penny, sterling.</p> - -<p><em>Mevis</em>, v. <em>Mavis</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Mill</em>, a snuff-box.</p> - -<p><em>Mim</em>, prim, demure, prudish.</p> - -<p><em>Minny</em>, mother.</p> - -<p><em>Mirk</em>, dark.</p> - -<p><em>Mow</em>, a heap.</p> - -<p><em>Mules</em>, the ‘mools,’ the grave.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">N</span></p> - -<p><em>Neb</em>, a beak; in a ludicrous sense, the nose.</p> - -<p><em>Neist</em>, next, nearest.</p> - -<p><em>Neuk</em>, <em>nuik</em>, a corner.</p> - -<p><em>Nidity nod</em>, shaking, bobbing up and down.</p> - -<p><em>Nossack</em>, a good drop.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">O</span></p> - -<p><em>O’ercome</em>, overplus.</p> - -<p><em>Ouk</em>, <em>oulk</em>, <em>uk</em>, a week.</p> - -<p><em>Oxter</em>, the armpit.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">P</span></p> - -<p><em>Packshon</em>, bargain, agreement.</p> - -<p><em>Padock</em>, <em>puddock</em>, a frog.</p> - -<p><em>Paid</em>, <em>pait</em>, drubbed.</p> - -<p><em>Partan</em>, a crab.</p> - -<p><em>Peck</em>, a dry measure containing two gallons.</p> - -<p><em>Pickle</em>, a small quantity.</p> - -<p><em>Pig</em>, <em>pigg</em>, an earthenware vessel.</p> - -<p><em>Pillonian</em>, a kind of coarse blue cloth.</p> - -<p><em>Pinging</em>, whining, complaining.</p> - -<p><em>Piping het</em>, boiling hot.</p> - -<p><em>Pirn</em>, a reel for winding thread or yarn.</p> - -<p><em>Pisweip</em>, a lapwing.</p> - -<p><em>Plack</em>, a small copper coin, worth one-third of a penny, sterling.</p> - -<p><em>Plash</em>, to wet; ‘wet to plash,’ thoroughly drenched.</p> - -<p><em>Plotted</em>, scalded.</p> - -<p><em>Podle</em>, a tadpole.</p> - -<p><em>Port</em>, a gate, as of a town.</p> - -<p><em>Pow</em>, the head.</p> - -<p><em>Pownie</em>, a name given to a turkey-hen. See <a href="#Footnote_34"><em>note</em> to p. 52</a>, vol. ii.</p> - -<p><em>Prat</em>, a trick.</p> - -<p><em>Prik’t</em>, fastened, pinned.</p> - -<p><em>Prin</em>, a pin.</p> - -<p><em>Prute-no</em>, an expression of contempt.</p> - -<p><em>Puddock</em>, v. <em>padock</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Pund</em>, a pound Scots, equivalent to one shilling and eightpence, sterling.</p> - -<p><em>Purpey</em>, purple.</p> - -<p><em>Pyet</em>, piebald.</p> - -<p><em>Pyking</em>, poking.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">Q</span></p> - -<p><em>Quean</em>, a young woman; sometimes used in a bad sense.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">R</span></p> - -<p><em>Raird</em>, a noise, a roar.</p> - -<p><em>Raisins</em>, necessities.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span></p> - -<p><em>Rake</em> (of water, or coals), as much as can be carried at one time.</p> - -<p><em>Rash-rape</em>, a rope made of rushes.</p> - -<p><em>Rattle-scul</em>, one who talks without thinking.</p> - -<p><em>Ratton</em>, a rat.</p> - -<p><em>Red</em>, <em>redd</em>, to put in order.</p> - -<p><em>Red-wood</em>, mad, in a violent rage.</p> - -<p><em>Reeking</em>, well ordered.</p> - -<p><em>Reinge</em>, to clear out, to rinse.</p> - -<p><em>Retour</em>, return, as the return journey of a coach.</p> - -<p><em>Rift</em>, an eructation.</p> - -<p><em>Rifting</em>, belching.</p> - -<p><em>Rigget</em>, striped.</p> - -<p><em>Rigging</em>, the roof of a house, the human head in a ludicrous sense.</p> - -<p><em>Ripples</em>, a weakness in the back and reins.</p> - -<p><em>Rippling-kame</em>, a flax-comb.</p> - -<p><em>Rive</em>, to tear.</p> - -<p><em>Rolloching</em>, outspoken.</p> - -<p><em>Rout</em>, to bellow; also, a blow.</p> - -<p><em>Rowt</em>, assembled.</p> - -<p><em>Royte</em>, a noisy animal.</p> - -<p><em>Ruddoch</em>, a contemptuous name for an old woman.</p> - -<p><em>Rugh</em>, rough.</p> - -<p><em>Runkly</em>, wrinkly.</p> - -<p><em>Runt</em>, the stalk of a vegetable, such as a cabbage.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">S</span></p> - -<p><em>Saep</em>, soap.</p> - -<p><em>Sandle</em>, the sand-ell or sand-lance.</p> - -<p><em>Sannock Garner</em>, probably a familiar name for the devil.</p> - -<p><em>Saugh</em>, the willow.</p> - -<p><em>Scart</em>, to scratch or scrape.</p> - -<p><em>Scorn</em>, to torment, to rally.</p> - -<p><em>Scour</em>, to clean out.</p> - -<p><em>Scour’d</em>, ran quickly.</p> - -<p><em>Scride</em>, to scrape, as the bow on the strings of the violin.</p> - -<p><em>Sculdudery</em>, immorality.</p> - -<p><em>Sculls</em>, wicker baskets, such as are used by fishers.</p> - -<p><em>Scunnert</em>, disgusted.</p> - -<p><em>Scythed</em>, shot quickly.</p> - -<p><em>Sea-cat</em>, the sea-wolf or wolf-fish.</p> - -<p><em>Sea-dog</em>, the seal.</p> - -<p><em>Servet</em>, a table-napkin.</p> - -<p><em>Shap</em>, a cod, as a pea-cod.</p> - -<p><em>Sheavling</em>, distorting.</p> - -<p><em>Shern</em>, cattle ordure.</p> - -<p><em>Shevelin</em>, walking unsteadily.</p> - -<p><em>Shough</em>, <em>slough</em>, moss.</p> - -<p><em>Shule</em>, shovel.</p> - -<p><em>Shure</em>, sure.</p> - -<p><em>Sickerly</em>, firmly, surely.</p> - -<p><em>Sikes</em>, the phrase, ‘flay the sikes,’ means to give a good beating.</p> - -<p><em>Sinsyne</em>, since.</p> - -<p><em>Skail’d</em>, dispersed.</p> - -<p><em>Skaith</em>, harm.</p> - -<p><em>Skein</em>, a length of worsted or thread.</p> - -<p><em>Skellat</em>, a small bell used by town criers.</p> - -<p><em>Skelped</em>, struck.</p> - -<p><em>Skirl’d</em>, cried, screamed.</p> - -<p><em>Slag</em>, a small quantity.</p> - -<p><em>Slung</em>, a sling, a throw.</p> - -<p><em>Snishing</em>, snuff.</p> - -<p><em>Snoaking</em>, prying, smelling about like a dog.</p> - -<p><em>Soncy</em>, plump, well-conditioned.</p> - -<p><em>Soughing</em>, a rushing sound.</p> - -<p><em>Souse</em>, <em>sosse</em>, the fall of a soft body, to throw one’s self - into a seat.</p> - -<p><em>Soup</em>, a mouthful, a spoonful.</p> - -<p><em>Sowens</em>, flummery, made of the dust oatmeal remaining among the seeds, - steeped and soured.</p> - -<p><em>Spanged</em>, leaped, jumped.</p> - -<p><em>Spaul</em>, limb.</p> - -<p><em>Speir’d</em>, asked.</p> - -<p><em>Spence</em>, a larder, the parlour of a country house.</p> - -<p><em>Spence, to</em>, used to denote ‘the bedding.’ - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span></p> - -<p><em>Spout</em>, drink.</p> - -<p><em>Spout-fish</em>, the razor-fish.</p> - -<p><em>Sprittled</em>, speckled.</p> - -<p><em>Spruch</em>, spruce, smart.</p> - -<p><em>Spue</em>, to vomit.</p> - -<p><em>Spunkie</em>, Will-o’-the-Wisp.</p> - -<p><em>Squattle</em>, to drink greedily.</p> - -<p><em>Stark</em>, strong.</p> - -<p><em>Stay</em>, <em>stey</em>, steep, difficult.</p> - -<p><em>Steighling</em>, crowding, cramming.</p> - -<p><em>Sticket</em>, stopped; as, ‘a sticket minister,’ a man who has failed or - been stopped in his studies for the ministry.</p> - -<p><em>Stirk</em>, a young bull.</p> - -<p><em>Stirra</em>, a stout, romping boy.</p> - -<p><em>Stively</em>, stoutly, firmly.</p> - -<p><em>Stock</em>, a stalk.</p> - -<p><em>Stot</em>, to stagger.</p> - -<p><em>Stoup</em>, a deep and narrow wooden vessel for holding water.</p> - -<p><em>Sugh</em>, to breathe heavily.</p> - -<p><em>Sumf</em>, <em>sumph</em>, a stupid, silly fellow; a blockhead.</p> - -<p><em>Sunks</em>, a saddle.</p> - -<p><em>Supple</em>, the part of a flail that strikes the grain.</p> - -<p><em>Sutter</em>, <em>sutor</em>, a shoemaker.</p> - -<p><em>Swabing</em>, a beating.</p> - -<p><em>Swats</em>, small beer.</p> - -<p><em>Sweith</em>, an interjection signifying ‘be quick, make haste.’</p> - -<p><em>Syne</em>, after that, then.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">T</span></p> - -<p><em>Tadder</em>, a tether, a hawser.</p> - -<p><em>Taupie</em>, <em>tawpie</em>, a foolish woman.</p> - -<p><em>Tent</em>, care.</p> - -<p><em>Theckit</em>, thatched.</p> - -<p><em>Thole</em>, to bear.</p> - -<p><em>Thraple</em>, throat.</p> - -<p><em>Tirlie-whirlie</em>, any ornament, a whirligig.</p> - -<p><em>Tirr’d</em>, unroofed.</p> - -<p><em>Tocher</em>, a dowry.</p> - -<p><em>Tod-lowrie</em>, a name given to the fox.</p> - -<p><em>Toom</em>, empty.</p> - -<p><em>Tost</em>, an application.</p> - -<p><em>Totum</em>, a very small person.</p> - -<p><em>Touting</em>, blowing, sounding.</p> - -<p><em>Toy</em>, a linen or woollen head-dress, which hangs down over the shoulders.</p> - -<p><em>Trykle</em>, treacle.</p> - -<p><em>Tug</em>, a hawser.</p> - -<p><em>Tullie</em>, a quarrel.</p> - -<p><em>Tut</em>, an expression of contempt, equivalent to ‘pshaw’.</p> - -<p><em>Tyke</em>, a dog.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">U</span></p> - -<p><em>Uk</em>, <em>uke</em>, v. <em>ouk</em>.</p> - -<p><em>Unco</em>, strange, unusual, very.</p> - -<p><em>Unfiery</em>, unsteady, infirm.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">V</span></p> - -<p><em>Veals</em>, calves.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">W</span></p> - -<p><em>Wale</em>, to choose.</p> - -<p><em>Wallop</em>, to leap; also, to beat.</p> - -<p><em>Wally</em>, large, fine, ample.</p> - -<p><em>Wame</em>, the belly, the stomach.</p> - -<p><em>Wammel</em>, to move awkwardly.</p> - -<p><em>Water-wag-tail</em>, the bird called the wag-tail, or motacilla.</p> - -<p><em>Waught</em>, a drink.</p> - -<p><em>Wauker</em>, a fuller.</p> - -<p><em>Webster</em>, <em>wabster</em>, a weaver.</p> - -<p><em>Whaken</em>, large, overflowing.</p> - -<p><em>Whalpie</em>, a puppy.</p> - -<p><em>Whalp</em>, to whelp.</p> - -<p><em>Wheen</em>, <em>whin</em>, a number.</p> - -<p><em>Whiltie-whaltie</em>, a state of palpitation; to play pit-a-pat.</p> - -<p><em>Whinge</em>, to whine, lament.</p> - -<p><em>Whit</em>, a jag or prick.</p> - -<p><em>Widdling</em>, waddling.</p> - -<p><em>Widdyfu’</em>, one who deserves to fill a <em>widdy</em> or halter, a romp.</p> - -<p><em>Wierd</em>, fate.</p> - -<p><em>Winnle</em>, an instrument used by women for winding yarn. - <span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span></p> - -<p><em>Win</em>, dwell, reside.</p> - -<p><em>Wirry</em>, to strangle, to worry.</p> - -<p><em>Wood</em>, <em>wud</em>, furious with rage, mad.</p> - -<p><em>Wyfe</em>, to whiff.</p> - -<p><em>Wyles</em>, caution.</p> - -<p><em>Wylie</em>, a kind of flannel used for vests and petticoats.</p> - -<p><em>Wyte</em>, blame.</p> - -<p class="p1 bold"><span class="pad6">Y</span></p> - -<p><em>Yeal</em>, old, barren.</p> - -<p><em>Yearning-bag</em>, a bag containing the stomach of a calf, used for making - milk curdle.</p> - -<p><em>Yeltow</em>, a chewed oath.</p> - -<p><em>Yence</em>, once.</p> - -<p><em>Yerdet</em>, buried.</p> - -<p><em>Yird</em>, the earth, the grave.</p> - -<p><em>Youdeth</em>, youth.</p> - -<p><em>Youket</em>, coupled, married.</p> - -<p><em>Yule</em>, latterly Christmas, but formerly the name given to an annual - feast in honour of Odin.</p> - -<p><em>Yule</em>, <em>youl</em>, to howl like a dog.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="p4 r20" /> -<p class="smcap center">The End.</p> -<hr class="r20" /> - -<hr class="p4 r65" /> -<p class="pfs70"><em>Printed by H. Nisbet & Co., 38 Stockwell Street, Glasgow.</em></p> - - -<div class="chapter"></div> -<div class="footnotes"><h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> A custom not uncommon in Scotland at the present day among the working -classes. Boys, when making a bargain, wet their thumbs and place them on each -other as a token of good faith. Something of this kind may be found in the old -song:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘Though kith and kin and a’ should revile thee,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> In Scotland, in the olden time, forty days were allowed to elapse after the -proclamation of the banns, during which time objectors to the marriage might come -forward. The session clerk had placed in his hands a sum of money as security -for the solemnisation of the marriage; and one had to be found to stand as surety -that the parties would not cohabit before they obtained the sanction of the church.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> The ‘providing’ has always been regarded as an important item of the marriage -arrangements. Perhaps the earliest account of the possessions of contracting -parties is to be found in the song, ‘The Wowing of Jok and Jynny,’ supposed to -have been written before the Reformation.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> In modern editions of this chap-book the first part ends with the sentence:—‘So -this disturbed a’ the diversion at Jockey’s bedding, and the sky was beginning -to break in the east before the hurly-burley was over.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> The usual name for the village bellman throughout Scotland.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> Jockey had been guilty of an offence which, had he lived a century earlier, -might have brought about imprisonment by the civil power, in addition to his -seat on the ‘cock-stool.’ Even about the middle of last century the penalties were -severe, and the disgrace was considered great. Feeling in the matter, however, -seemed to be more prompted by a fear of consequences than by true morality. -Dr. Rogers, in <cite>Scotland Social and Domestic</cite>, p. 311, thus explains the legal position -of presbyteries and kirk-sessions in regard to such matters—‘At the Reformation, -Presbyterian judicatories proceeded to occupy the position of Consistory -Courts. They took cognisance of offences precisely similar, with the exception -of such as “speaking evil of saints” and “the non-payment of offerings,” or -those which bore direct reference to the Catholic faith. Under the Presbyterian -system, the kirk-session exercised the functions of the Archdeacon’s Commissary, -and Presbyterian Synods and the General Assembly formed an appellate jurisdiction -similar to that which was exercised by the Archdeacons and Bishops and the -Archbishops of St. Andrews.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> The stool was placed in front of the pulpit, in full view of the congregation. -In some parishes the culprits were allowed to sit, but in most cases they had to -stand.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> The ‘sacken sark’ had a variety of names, such as ‘the harden gown,’ ‘the -sack gown,’ ‘the harn gown,’ and ‘the linen.’ Each parish was supposed to -have one of these habits: and in 1655 the sum of £4 4 6 Scots was expended by -the kirk-session of Lesmahagow in the purchase of one. A specimen of the ‘sacken -sark’ may be seen in the Museum of the Society of Antiquaries in Edinburgh.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> A fine paid to the Kirk-Session, who distributed it, with the other moneys in -their possession, among the poor of the parish. See the <a href="#amh-II">second part</a> of <cite>The History -of Buckhaven</cite>, where the culprit is made to pay ‘four pound and a groat,’ probably -Scots money, equal to about seven shillings sterling.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> The following paragraph concludes the second part in modern editions:—‘Now -Jockey and his mither went into the little byre and held a private meeting, nane -present but auld Bruckie and the twa Brutes, the bits of couties, that she might -give him counsel how to behave when he appeared before Mess John, to answer -for his bastard; which concludes the third and last part.’ The ‘third and last -part’ in these editions, however, fails to carry the story to its proper issue, and only -gives a very summary account of Jockey on the cutty-stool.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Ante-nuptial fornication—‘on the terms of marriage’—was lamentably common, -but in such cases the law of the church, while duly put in force, was -considerably relaxed in its severity, if marriage followed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> The civil authorities were frequently called upon to give effect to church censures. -In the seventeenth century sentence of excommunication practically carried -with it all the pains of civil outlawry; but in 1690 an Act of the Estates abrogated -the civil consequences of the sentence.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> Milled oats, or oats with the husks taken off.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> This is rather an original account of the rise and progress of the black-stool: -but it would be difficult to say how far history supports it. In a chap-book -printed in 1776 under the title of ‘An Account of the General Assembly’s Invention -for the final Extirpation of the Black-stool of Repentance and the Sackcloth -Gown out of the Kirk of Scotland: proposing a new and easy method of punishing -sporting ladies,’ a similar account is given of the stool.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> The Church rule on the point here brought out by Mess John may be illustrated -by an enactment passed by the Kirk Session of Glasgow in 1591, which -bore that those desirous of entering the conjugal state had to repeat the ten -commandments, the articles of faith, and the Lord’s prayer. If the candidates -could not pass the examination they were declared unworthy of being joined in -marriage, and were liable to censure. A few days after this decree had been -issued, the Session prohibited a marriage until the bridegroom had learned his -task. The Presbytery of Glasgow, in 1594, prohibited a marriage because the -bridegroom was ‘in greit debt.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> Suspension from church privileges for a time, until they showed signs of -repentance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> The beginning of the New Year, or Yule, festivities.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> The ordinary mode of travelling long distances. Country women were then -good horse-women.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> A superstition long prevalent, and scarcely yet eradicated in some parts of -Scotland. The mother was not safe from the power of fairies until she had been -‘kirk’t,’ and the child, until baptised, was in danger of being carried away by -them, a changeling being substituted in its stead. Jockey’s mother seems to have -had a touch of the same superstition when she spoke of the difference between a -child and a dog—‘A dog is a brute beast, an’ a wean is a christen’d creature.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> The custom in Scotland was to have a number of the neighbours along with -the members of the family.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> Young women, besides providing their bridal clothes before their marriage, -frequently spun their winding sheet immediately after that event. Flora Macdonald -carried about with her, throughout all her wanderings after her liberation -in 1747, the sheet in which Prince Charles had lain at Kingsburgh’s house in -Skye, with the intention that it should be her shroud. And so it was.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> These were not the days of hearses. The common people never thought of a -carriage, and, indeed, it was only at the funerals of the nobility that hearses -were to be seen. Usually the coffin was taken to the grave on wooden bars, -called ‘spaiks,’ borne by the mourners, who, if the journey were long, relieved each -other.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> The eating and drinking long prevalent at funerals was something marvellous, -and on more than one occasion it is recorded that mourners separated in confusion -and ill-feeling. At the funeral of Sir Hugh Campbell of Calder, in March, -1716, nearly £70 sterling were spent in meat and drink alone, and when the -difference in the value of money is taken into consideration the sum must -appear large. In 1704, Lord Whitelaw, a Senator of the College of Justice, was -buried at the expense of £5189 Scots, or £432 8s. 4d. sterling, which meant more -than two years’ salary as a judge.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> At births it was customary—and still is under a modified form—to hand round -‘blythe-meat’ to all visitors.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> Another name for the stool of repentance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> A colloquialism. The meaning is—‘You must not kiss any woman <em>other -than</em> your own wife.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> A witticism for whitings or haddocks. Dunbar has from an early period been -one of the leading ports on the east coast fishing grounds.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> It would be difficult to say how the herring caught in Loch Fyne came to be -called ‘Glasgow Magistrates.’ The name is still applied to them.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> One way of putting an old Scottish proverb. Henderson’s reading of it is:—‘There -ne’er was a silly Jockey but what there was a silly Jenny.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> In some modern editions the word ‘jaw’ is inserted instead of ‘jamf,’ or, as -it is sometimes spelled ‘jamph.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> Probably Prestonpans, famous for fishers and potters, and for its battle-field.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> In Morren’s edition of this chap-book, published in Edinburgh in the early -years of the present century, the word here used is ‘keckling,’ meaning to laugh, -or, more properly, to ‘smirk.’ ‘Keckling’ seems the more likely word.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> Another reading of the old saying—‘The deil catch the hindmost.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> This can hardly be taken literally. Possibly what is meant is ‘powsee,’ a small -fresh haddock.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> In some later editions the description of Sawny is made more complete by the -insertion, in this place, of the following:—‘and an auld creeshy hat, mair like a -fryingpan than any thing else.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> Taverns and eating-houses were frequently, in east-coast towns, on the ‘sunk-flat,’ -access to them being gained by a flight of steps down from the foot-pavement. -Several such shops may still be seen in the old town of Edinburgh, in the vicinity -of the High Street and Canongate.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> The women about fishing communities differed, and do still, from their sisters -further inland, regarding house-work, or ‘husband-work.’ Matty’s opinion is a -fair reflection of the ideas of her class. A further expression is given to this feeling -in <cite>The History of Buckhaven</cite>, where Graham, describing the people about -whom he was writing, says:—‘They kept but little communication with the -country people, for a farmer, in those days, thought his daughter cast awa if she -married one of the fishers in Bucky-harbour, and Witty Eppie the ale-wife wad a -sworn, be go’ laddie, I wad rather see my boat and a’ my three sons upset against -the Bass, or I saw are o’ them married on a muck-a-byre’s daughter, a wheen -useles taupies that can do naething but rive at a tow rock [spin], and cut corn; -they can neither bait a hook nor red a line, hook sandles nor gather periwinkles.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> An old stocking leg, in which it was the custom of old women to sew up -whatever savings they might have been able to make, and generally hidden away -in some odd corner. Some of these ‘hoggers’ have been known to be very substantial. -Even yet, now that banks are everywhere, the simile is kept up, though -the stocking leg has fallen into disuse for banking purposes. Some persons speak -about ‘laying by for a sair fit.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> The beginning of the paragraph reads this way in Morren’s edition:—‘On -this Sawny paid their spout and parted.’ That seems the more likely way of it, -for later on Sawny speaks of courting being ‘a curst wark and <em>costly</em>.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> Sawny’s mother, besides showing herself well acquainted with the wise saws -of her native country, further exhibits her belief in witchcraft. In this she was -not singular. After a long crusade against witches, the minds of the better educated -classes became somewhat enlightened on the subject, and Parliament, in 1735, -revoked the penal statutes against sorcery. Many of the ministers regarded this act -as a national sin, and said it was contrary to the express law of God. John -Wesley, it may be remembered, said that to give up belief in witchcraft was, in -effect, giving up the Bible.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> Morren’s edition reads ‘milk cows’ here; while a later issue has ‘cow’s -milks.’ The only satisfactory one is Morren’s.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> One of a set of Scottish proverbs showing the disregard of Scots in bygone -days for all sanitary considerations. Two proverbs having a similar bearing are—‘The -clartier the cosier,’ and ‘The mair dirt the less hurt.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> In some editions the word ‘crust’ is substituted for ‘cufe.’ Certainly it is -more likely.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> Penny weddings have been immortalised by Semple of Beltrees in his song -<cite>The Blythsome Bridal</cite>. Originally, pennies were contributed by those present, -and any overplus, after providing for the wedding feast, went towards assisting -the young couple in their furnishing. Latterly, the neighbours sent in eatables of -various kinds, the bride’s friends only preparing one dish, the ‘bride’s pie,’ the -equivalent to the ‘bride’s-cake’ of modern days. As with the cake, so with the -pie, every one present received a piece. The marriage ceremony was generally -celebrated at the manse, and the wedding festivities took place in the bride’s house. -These festivities some times lasted several days—see, for example, Ramsay’s addition -to <cite>Christ’s Kirk on the Green</cite>, by James I.—and were productive of serious -irregularities. Ultimately the Church made an effort to regulate them, but with -little effect.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">[45]</a> That is, by failing to pay the Kirk dues. There was the money for the -‘cries,’ or banns, which was in itself a respectable sum, and a variety of other -payments, which made marriage an expensive affair. The minister was given a -small acknowledgment for his services; but now-a-days it is usual, instead, to -make a present of a satin hat, a pair of gloves, a comforter, or such like.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">[46]</a> A ‘magg’ is a synonym for the cant term ‘maik,’ a halfpenny; but in the -text it is used in the sense of ‘a gratuity,’ such as has been referred to in the -previous note.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">[47]</a> Portion of an old song, long popular among the Scottish peasantry. It bore -the name of ‘For the Sake of Somebody,’ and is believed to have suggested Burns’ -song with the same title. The old song is to be found in <cite>The Tea-Table Miscellany</cite>; -and there the last four lines of the first double stanza are:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘I am gawn to seek a wife,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I am gawn to buy a plaidy;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I have three stane of woo;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Carling, is thy daughter ready?’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">[48]</a> An indication of the derivation of the word ‘spinster.’ Kate, like most -Scotch women, had the idea that her marriage could hardly take place until she -had her ‘providing.’ There was something more than mere sentiment about this, -for owing to the hard struggle married couples had to exist in a poor and undeveloped -country, such as Scotland then was, it was probable that the bride -would have little chance of getting such a complete set out after, as before, marriage.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">[49]</a> Sawny seems to have been guided in his wooing by the old Scotch proverb:—‘Happy -is the wooing that’s no lang o’ doing.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">[50]</a> In Edinburgh, during last century, there was occasionally to be found some -worthy in the ministerial profession available for such purposes, and whose character -would be fairly indicated by the coarse but forcible language of Matty. They -were, however, outwith the pale of respectability, and were not recognised by their -clerical brethren. Such individuals were not altogether peculiar to Scotland, but -might also be found in London about the same period.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">[51]</a> In Morren’s, M‘Kenzie & Hutchison’s, and other editions, there is here this -parenthesis:—‘Ta’en ane anithers word, a kiss, and a hoddle, at the hillock side.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">[52]</a> The Scotsman’s grace has passed into a proverb, on account of its inordinate -length and its theological tinge. The story is often told of the servant -girl who, after leaving a family in which she had once served, returned to stay a -night with them. At supper the grace was the same as she was wont to hear -before she went away, and she complimented her late master and host upon his -‘guid memory.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">[53]</a> A little wooden trough such as is used for the feeding of sheep or swine. In -an edition of this chap-book printed in Stirling by C. Randall, in 1801, the reading -is:—‘Into a little tub or trough.’ It is the same in several later issues, but in -Morren’s edition it reads:—‘Into a little tub or cogboin.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">[54]</a> The Scotch ‘girnel,’ to be found yet in most country houses, especially among -‘bein’ or well-to-do people, who purchase their meal in larger quantities than is -usual in towns.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">[55]</a> The story of the chase after the ‘poor dominie’ is omitted in Morren’s edition, -but the following new matter is inserted in its stead:—‘Tom came running home -all besmear’d with blood, at the sight whereof his father cry’d, what’s the matter -Tom? To which he made no answer: searching him, the trick was discovered -and poor Tom received a severe chastisment. Tom, to be revenged on his father, -rose in the night time and broke the fauld and let out the cattle amongst his -father’s corn, and goes to bed again, this he did unperceived. Next morning, the -neighbours observing the cattle lying amongst the corn, came running, and told -his father how they had destroyed all his victual, for they had eat till they had like -to burst. All the time Tom lay in his bed, and his father much vexed at his laziness, -and told him that he would never have the benefit of more schooling as his -master had so many grievious complaints against him; at which Tom rejoiced -within himself as he did not value learning, nor put it in balance with his designed -tricks; Tom then scampered away, and meeting with an egg cadger coming to -Edinburgh, desired him to alight from his horse, and he would give him a dram -at the Fallow kirk, at which, the poor man was glad, and went in with him. -Tom called for two drams and bade the cadger drink hearty, in the mean time -Tom slips out and mounts the cadger’s horse, and puts a foot in each creel, and -made the eggs all caddle, and then he dismounted and ran; so that the poor cadger -lost his eggs, and had the drams to pay for.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">[56]</a> In Morren’s edition this story is told in a very different way. As has already -been explained, the first and second parts in that edition are run into one, and -the following paragraph immediately succeeds the story told in the preceding -note:—‘Tom was always playing tricks to his grandmother, as he knew she was -rich, and would part with nothing to him; he lays in wait one night, and conceals -himself in a corner until all was at rest, Tom rises and takes the keys of a drawer, -and slips out about forty shillings, and slips off to Dalkeith on a Thursday where -his grandmother’s servant girl came that day. Tom was spending largely, and the -girl who knew that Tom had no money, came home and told his grandmother -that Tom had taken away her money, this so enraged him, that he lashed her -buttocks with his wheep in so unmerciful a manner, that what with the smart and -shame together she had not the least inclination to sleep the remaining part of the -day.’ The narrative then proceeds:—‘Tom being grown up to the years and age -of a man,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">[57]</a> It was customary among country folks, and is so still in some districts of Scotland, -to kill a fat animal at Martinmas of each year, and salt it for the winter’s -provision. Even people in urban districts, though they had not a cow nor an ox, -had a pig which they had been fattening for a year, and which was then considered -ready for the sacrifice. Hence the term ‘winter mairt.’ The word ‘mairt,’ or -‘mart,’ ultimately came to denote a person who lived in ease and prosperity.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">[58]</a> In all other editions we have seen the reading is ‘three pounds.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">[59]</a> This ends Number I. of the edition of <cite>Lothian Tom</cite> from which the text is -here taken. It finishes at the foot of the page. The next number has a title page -similar to what is on the first, and the narrative continues on the back of the title -as if there had been no break. The folios run right through the three numbers, -the whole chap-book occupying twenty-four pages.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">[60]</a> The old jail in the Canongate of Edinburgh is still an object of interest. -Jailers in the past occupied a very different position from what they do now. -They acted more in the capacity of taverners than their brethren of the present -day. In English plays and novels of last century their position is fully shown; -and in the same period a similar state of matters existed in Scotland. In Glasgow, -after the erection of the Tolbooth at the Cross, in 1627, the jailer was given a yearly -salary of 40 merks (£2 4s. 5½ sterling), and he was to receive from every burgess -or inhabitant of the city who should be committed to his care 2s. Scots (2d. sterling) -for entry and booking fee, and the same sum for every twenty-four hours during -which the person should be incarcerated. Outsiders, however, had double fees to -pay their host. On account of ‘having only thiefes and lounes as prisoners,’ and -getting no profit from them, the jailer of 1661 received from the Town Council of -Glasgow a grant of £20 Scots (£1 13s. 4d. sterling). The Privy Council Records -show that in 1696 the keeper of Canongate Tolbooth was allowed 2s. Scots per -night, with one penny sterling for the servants—in all 3d. sterling—for every recruit -he kept.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">[61]</a> This clause is added in some modern undated editions:—‘and so Tom gained -his end.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">[62]</a> In the Stirling (1801), and other editions the reading is:—‘So the butcher got -but fun for his trouble.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">[63]</a> ‘Madam,’ in some later editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">[64]</a> A fair indication of the opinion Englishmen had of their Scottish neighbours. -Could any good come out of Scotland? It is only fair to admit, however, that the -contempt was not all on the one side.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">[65]</a> The old woman, by her remark about witchcraft and her belief in Tom’s proposal, -discovers the presence of superstitions in her mind. The belief in witchcraft -was then in a transition stage. Many people firmly believed in it; others were -doubtful; while not a few, like Tom, played the rogue on the strength of the -superstition in others. It is more than probable that the tricks of such as Lothian -Tom did more to enlighten the people than anything else. As for the clergy, -they were a hindrance, and rather fostered the belief in witchcraft.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">[66]</a> This concludes the second number. The third number, like the others, had a -title-page, and the narrative was continued on the back of it.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">[67]</a> The modern undated Glasgow editions end here with the words:—‘for it is -fashious to lead and heavy to carry.’ All that goes before of this part is added to -part five, so that in them there are only five parts. In the Stirling (1801) edition, -however, the story is carried on to the end of the scene with the lawyer.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">[68]</a> It was quite a common conclusion of a law-suit for the lawyer and his client -to ‘drink a bottle’ or even get ‘fou’ together, especially if they were on the -winning side. Consultations were generally held in some tavern in the vicinity of -the court, and the whole aspect of a case was discussed under the stimulating influence -of a ‘tappit hen.’ Sir Walter Scott in the text and notes to <cite>Guy Mannering</cite> -gives a most interesting account of the convivial habits of the Scottish bar during -last century.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">[69]</a> Nearly four pages are here inserted in the edition from which this text is -taken, but they do not belong to <cite>Lothian Tom</cite>, but to <cite>Pady from Cork</cite>. They -consist of ‘<a href="#tcs-IV">Pady’s New Catechism</a>,’ ‘<a href="#tcs-V">Pady’s Humble Petition</a>,’ and ‘<a href="#tcs-VI">Pady’s Creed -for Irish Believers</a>,’ and they will be found in their proper place in a subsequent -part of this volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">[70]</a> <em>Vide</em> Introduction, vol. i. p. 45.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">[71]</a> Dogs and chapmen were proverbial enemies. The tradition regarding the -feud will be found in the answer to the question—‘What is the reason that dogs -are worse on chapmen, than on other strange people?’—in <cite><a href="#Page_168">The Scots Piper’s -Queries</a></cite>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">[72]</a> Chapmen were looked upon by the common people as characters whose disinclination -to work led them into a lazy life. Their services to the community -were acknowledged, but only under a protest that had they not been ‘haters of -hard work’ they could not have gone into the business. This feeling, however, -arose chiefly from the popular idea, which still finds expression, that nothing can -be called work except manual labour.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">[73]</a> A most effectual weapon of defence against the physical as well as the spiritual -assaults of Satan. Sinclair, in his work entitled <cite>Satan’s Invisible World Discovered</cite>, -tells a most extraordinary story of the means taken to ‘lay’ the ‘devil of -Glenluce.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">[74]</a> The words, ‘very sick,’ are here added in Morren’s edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">[75]</a> The common people had strange notions about foreigners, as this passage -shows. A somewhat similar idea is given expression to in <cite><a href="#Page_131">The History of the -Haverel Wives</a></cite>, where Janet speaks of Italy as the country ‘where the auld Pape -their [the priests’] father, the de’il, the witches, brownies and fairies dwal.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">[76]</a> There are some unimportant verbal differences between the text here and what -is to be found in Morren’s edition. At the asterisk there is inserted:—‘thrawing -my face terrible at her.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">[77]</a> Morren has here:—‘And thou, O monsieur Lucifer, Satan Diable,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">[78]</a> A very fair indication of the unnecessary ceremonies gone through by wizards -and witches. Lothian Tom used some ‘enchantment’ under equally interesting -circumstances. See vol. ii. <a href="#Page_81">p. 81</a>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">[79]</a> Before the introduction of the present complex Poor Law system, each parish -in Scotland, through its kirk session, gave relief to its own poor. The strictness -of the authorities passed into a proverb. Many parishes had barrows on which -the infirm poor not belonging to them were wheeled outside the boundaries and left -to do for themselves as best they could. We have read of a case in which relief -was refused to a sickly stranger, and the village joiner was employed to make a -barrow for the person’s removal. Before the work was done the poor unfortunate -had died.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">[80]</a> In Morren’s edition there is here added:—‘and give us a proper drubbing.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">[81]</a> Possibly this practice—for the frequency with which it is mentioned in this -and other chap-books indicates that it was so—may have given rise to the proverbial -expression still common in Scotland:—‘I’ll tak a sup out your cog for that,’ -used when a person wishes to convey a vague threat.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">[82]</a> The suggestion from this passage seems to be that the lads did not sleep in -the house, but in a ‘bothy’ in the vicinity. The arrangement in many farm houses -in some parts of Scotland is—and it was much more common a century ago—that -the maid servants slept in the house, while the men were accommodated in an out-house. -During harvesting operations, shearers from a distance lived in a wooden -‘bothy’ erected on the farm. The system was not quite satisfactory, and often -gave rise to serious irregularities.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">[83]</a> Now-a-days it may seem strange that John Cheap, after his first night’s experience -in the stye, should have cared to have had it a second time. Travelling -on Sunday, however, was a thing not to be thought of a century ago. It was -doubtful, even, if a hen did not break the commandment by laying an egg on the -Sabbath. Dean Ramsay tells the story of a Highlander who gave the following -instance in support of the ‘God-fearin’’ character of the people of the village in -which he resided:—‘Last Sabbath, just as the kirk was skailin’, there was a -drover chield frae Dumfries comin’ along the road whustlin’, an’ lookin’ as happy -as if it was ta muddle o’ the week; well, sir, our laads is a God-fearin’ set o’ laads, -an’ they were just comin’ out o’ the kirk—’od they yokit upon him, an’ a’most -killed him.’ A similar fate might have befallen John Cheap had he travelled for -a change of lodgings. Certainly he would have been taken before the Session -and rebuked.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">[84]</a> The Covenanters had their great stronghold in the West of Scotland, especially -down Ayrshire way, and the ‘Westland Whig’ was regarded as a man of -extra strictness in religious ordinances.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">[85]</a> Our Lord’s miracle of the casting out the legion of the devils from the man -amongst the tombs, and their subsequent entrance into a herd of swine, seems to -have made a strong impression on the Scottish mind. John Cheap’s remarks on -the subject are fairly representative of the ideas of many country people in Scotland -even of the present day.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">[86]</a> A proverbial expression. Allan Ramsay’s version of it is:—‘Better belly -burst than good meat spill.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">[87]</a> This and other references in the course of the present narrative point to an -extensive trade in human hair; and show that the country lasses were not averse -to gaining a little money by parting with their flowing tresses.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">[88]</a> Disrespect for all sanitary considerations was for centuries an unfortunate -feature in Scotland, and was the main cause of the frequent plagues—or ‘visitations’ -as they were piously termed—which depopulated the country and crippled -its resources. Refuse of all sorts was thrown into the ‘midden-dub’ in front of -the door of each house. In the Trongate of Glasgow, in 1655, the gutters had -become so blocked up that the inhabitants had to place stepping stones in them -before they could obtain access to their houses. In Edinburgh, a century later, -ashes, foul water, etc., were thrown over the windows at night, the only warning -the belated pedestrian received being the melodious <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Gardez l’eau</i>; and happy was -he if he escaped.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">[89]</a> An official who went about to see that the orders of the ‘birley-court’ were -obeyed. This court consisted of certain parties in the barony who looked after -local affairs, and were, in fact, a sort of local authority or town council.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">[90]</a> The ‘evil eye’ was a most terrible thing, according to Scottish superstition; -and a variety of ‘freits’ or charms were had recourse to as shields against it. In -the <cite>Justiciary Records</cite>, of 1661, it is stated that Beatrix Leslie entered the house -of one Agnes Young ‘in ane great fury and anger, and pluckt away a pock belonging -to her, which the said Agnes had in keiping, without speaking ane word -to her, bot gieving her ane <em>terrible look</em>; and that same verry night, the said -William Young [her husband] awakened out of his sleep, in a great affrightment -and sweat, crying out, that she with a number of catts wer devouring him.’ Many -similar instances are on record. Of course they were simply due to perverted -imagination.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">[91]</a> John Cheap seems here to have been credited with possession of the ‘evil -eye,’ while he was really only guilty of a very questionable practical joke.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">[92]</a> That is, his mother gave him a good <em>thrashing</em> for it.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">[93]</a> In the edition here followed, the heading is ‘Fun upon Fun,’ but the one -given above is more distinctive, while its use is sanctioned by the precedent of -1820 edition. The edition of 1816 has—‘The Comical and Merry Tricks of -Leper the Taylor.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">[94]</a> The custom of the common people, when the ‘goodman’ required a suit, was -to have a tailor working in the house for a day or two, during which time he had -his board and lodging, with a small money payment. Sometimes a week’s work -might be given the tailor in this way, when the ‘callans,’ as well as their father, -were in need of new clothes. When the goodwife and her daughters were similarly -situated, the dressmaker was brought in on the same principle. This custom is -not yet dead; though it is fast disappearing.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">[95]</a> In a modern Glasgow edition the reading here is:—‘In her own bedroom.’ -That, however, seems to be a suggestion of a later time. The probability is that -the reference is to a press-bed enclosed in front with wood, with a door which was -closed during the day-time. Round these beds were shelves.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">[96]</a> Under the old system of apprenticeship the master had a fatherly care over -his apprentice in addition to the obligation to learn him his trade.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">[97]</a> In some of the later editions of this chap-book the reading here is:—‘Wonderful -fire! Wonderful fire!’ This is probably a misprint, the old fashioned ‘s’ -beginning the word ‘sirs’ in the older editions having caused confusion.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">[98]</a> An apt illustration of the relations of the clergy of that period towards the -common superstitions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">[99]</a> In this case the feeling of the relatives was satisfied by the death—or supposed -death—having been ‘fair o’erseen’ ‘before good neighbours;’ the want of which -caused Jockey, the hero of <cite>Jockey and Maggy</cite>, considerable anxiety. See <a href="#jmc-V">note on -that chap-book</a>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">[100]</a> Old women, whose privilege it was, in respect of their age, to perform such -duties.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">[101]</a> A peculiar Scotticism meaning that the face of the corpse bore a pleasant -expression. On such a melancholy occasion as a funeral in Scotland, an Englishman -would hear many remarks which would surprise him, possibly, shock -him, by their seeming irreverence. No such feeling, however, has any place in -the mind of the native. The expression, ‘the corpse’s sister,’ to be found in the -text in this page, may be taken as an instance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_102" href="#FNanchor_102" class="label">[102]</a> A funeral pall. The kirk session frequently provided one for the use of the -parish.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_103" href="#FNanchor_103" class="label">[103]</a> Ray, in his <cite>Itinerary through Scotland</cite>, gives the following form of announcement -as having been commonly made by the ‘deid bellman’ in Scotland in the -sixteenth century:—‘Beloued broothrin and susters, I lat you to wot that thir is -an fauthful broothir lautlie departed awt of this present warld, awt thi plesuir of -almoughti Good; his naum is Volli Voodcok, third son to Jimmoy Voodcok a -cordinger; he ligs at thi sesct door vithin the nord gawt, close on the nawthuer -rawnd, and I wod ya gang to hus burying on Thursdau before twa a clock.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_104" href="#FNanchor_104" class="label">[104]</a> The second part, in the edition followed here, has a separate title-page, containing -the same matter as the first, altering, of course, the number of the part.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_105" href="#FNanchor_105" class="label">[105]</a> Another illustration of the expression used as a safeguard against the power of -witches, warlocks, and all that race, when speaking of them. See notes to <cite><a href="#Page_89">John -Cheap</a></cite> and <cite><a href="#Page_131">The History of Haverel Wives</a></cite>, in the present volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_106" href="#FNanchor_106" class="label">[106]</a> This seems to be the only story in any edition of <cite>Leper the Taylor</cite> that has -come under our notice to which the following lines from an elegy on Peter Duthie, -a chapman worthy who lived between 1721 and 1812, could possibly bear any -reference:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘Nae mair will Pate e’er travel round</div> - <div class="verse indent4">——————————</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor tell how <em>Leper</em> threw the cat</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Into auld Janet’s boiling pat.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_107" href="#FNanchor_107" class="label">[107]</a> The presence of cattle in the houses of the common people, or small farmers, -was too often seen, but this is just a further instance of the disrespect for sanitary -matters evinced by the Scots before the present century. A great change has -taken place within the last eighty or a hundred years.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_108" href="#FNanchor_108" class="label">[108]</a> Sunday observance has long been, and still is, a remarkable feature of the -Scottish national life. In former times the utmost care was taken that there should -be no Sabbath breaking. The old Jewish idea of a ‘Sabbath-day’s’ journey was -kept to the letter, and no one was allowed to walk on the streets except going to -or coming from the church. Any person found taking a walk ran the risk of being -taken to the guard-house by the ‘civileers,’ who were inquisitors appointed conjointly -by the Town Council and the kirk session. The average Scotsman would -rather let his crops go to ruin than take them in on a fine Sabbath.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_109" href="#FNanchor_109" class="label">[109]</a> In the 1816 edition, here followed throughout, the chap-book begins—‘This -taylor;’ but in the 1820 edition the opening sentence runs thus:—‘Leper in his -life-time,’ etc. That reading has been taken here as it makes a better beginning -than the other.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_110" href="#FNanchor_110" class="label">[110]</a> The English edition has a very different reading, as follows:—‘A farthing -Roll, half a pint of Ale, and a pipe of Tobacco.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_111" href="#FNanchor_111" class="label">[111]</a> The word ‘nearest’ is given instead of ‘former’ in the other editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_112" href="#FNanchor_112" class="label">[112]</a> ‘Half,’ in the English edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_113" href="#FNanchor_113" class="label">[113]</a> ‘Sixty-two,’ in the English edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_114" href="#FNanchor_114" class="label">[114]</a> ‘Three-half-pennys’ in the English edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_115" href="#FNanchor_115" class="label">[115]</a> A reference to a similar event is made in R. Braithwaite’s <cite>Penitent Pilgrim</cite>, -1641, reprinted by Pickering, of London, in 1853. At p. 109 of the reprint the -following passage will be found:—‘Nay, hast thou not seen the very corpse of thy -departed brother arrested, and uncharitably stayed; who, though he had paid his -debt to nature, yet must receive no burial till his corpse has discharged his debt to -his creditor? and hast thou sought to satisfy his hard-hearted creditor that those -due funeral rites might be performed to thy brother?’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_116" href="#FNanchor_116" class="label">[116]</a> Romans ix. 27.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_117" href="#FNanchor_117" class="label">[117]</a> In the English edition the reading here is:—‘and had the above mentioned -Legacy, so went weeping home for the loss of so good a Master.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_118" href="#FNanchor_118" class="label">[118]</a> ‘Simon Suckegg,’ and ‘Mrs. Lucy Longstitch’ in the English edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_119" href="#FNanchor_119" class="label">[119]</a> ‘Like a first rate beau in the fashion,’ in the edition of 1820.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_120" href="#FNanchor_120" class="label">[120]</a> Whether the chap-book was written by Dougal Graham or not, certainly no -one can claim for him the authorship of these lines. They were written by -Allan Ramsay on Lady Somerville’s Book of Scots Sangs. The complete inscription -is thus given in Fullarton’s edition of the works of the poet, vol. iii. p. 13:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘Gae canty book, and win a name;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Nae lyrics e’er shall ding thee:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hope large esteem, and lasting fame,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">If Somervilla sing thee.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If she thy sinless faults forgive,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Which her sweet voice can cover,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou shalt, in spite of critics live,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Still grateful to each lover.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_121" href="#FNanchor_121" class="label">[121]</a> Monday, the 29th March, 1652, when an eclipse of the sun took place, there -being complete darkness for about eight minutes. Law, in his <cite>Memorials</cite>, says:—‘The -like, as thought by astrologers, was not since the darkness at our Lord’s -Passion. The country people, tilling, loosed their ploughs, and thought it had -been the latter day.... The birds clapped to the ground.’ According to the -Burgh Records of Peebles, the people began to pray to God. This was how the -day came to be named ‘the mirk Munonday.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_122" href="#FNanchor_122" class="label">[122]</a> Historically a true description of the manner in which the Sabbath day was -observed immediately before the Reformation. Janet, however, must surely have -been speaking more from tradition than personal knowledge.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_123" href="#FNanchor_123" class="label">[123]</a> The popular, but mistaken, notion of the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">mercheta mulierum</i>. Cosmo Innes, -in his <cite>Lectures on Scottish Legal Antiquities</cite>, pp. 52-53, gives what seems to be the -true meaning:—‘Mercheta is the older form of the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">maritagium</i> or marriage-tax, in -the charters of Robert I., and not only the servile class, but the free tenants also -paid a <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">maritagium</i> on the marriage of their daughters.... Some learning has -been brought to show that, on the Continent, this tax—<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">mercheta mulierum</i>—represented -an ancient seignorial right—the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">jus primae noctis</i>. I have not looked -carefully into the French authorities; but I think there is no evidence of a custom -so odious existing in England; and in Scotland, I venture to say that there is -nothing to ground a suspicion of such a right. The merchet of women with us -was simply the tax paid by the different classes of bondmen and tenants and -vassals, when they gave their daughters in marriage, and thus deprived the lord of -their services, to which he was entitled <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">jure sanguinis</i>.’ The reader may also find -the matter very learnedly discussed in the appendix to Lord Hailes’ <cite>Annals of -Scotland</cite>. It need only be remarked that prelates, being spiritual peers, and -holding lands from the Crown on the same footing as their brethren of the civil -estate, were entitled like them to levy the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">maritagium</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_124" href="#FNanchor_124" class="label">[124]</a> See text and first note on <a href="#Page_94">p. 94</a> of the present volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_125" href="#FNanchor_125" class="label">[125]</a> A reference to Episcopacy.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_126" href="#FNanchor_126" class="label">[126]</a> This paragraph in itself contains an almost complete commentary on the -superstition of which it treats. According to the legend of Thomas the Rhymer -the devil levied tribute from the king of Fairy-land.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_127" href="#FNanchor_127" class="label">[127]</a> A scriptural veneration for old age was long a characteristic of the common -people of Scotland; but this remark betrays one of the tenets of the belief in -witchcraft hardly consistent with the outward profession of the people. In a -curious and interesting work, entitled the <cite>History of the Devil</cite>, the author says:—‘I -think it was a mean, low-priced business for Satan to take up with; below the -very Devil: below his dignity as an angelic, though condemned creature; below -him even as a Devil, to go to talk to a parcel of ugly, deformed, spightful, -malicious old women; to give them power to do mischief, who never had a will, -after they entered into the state of old womanhood, to do anything else.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_128" href="#FNanchor_128" class="label">[128]</a> Another illustration of the ignorance of the common people of the time about -foreigners, or the manners of life among the upper classes. This is not exaggerated, -and could find parallels from more recent times. Janet’s answer is more -enlightened, but she is shown all through the narrative as a well-informed woman.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_129" href="#FNanchor_129" class="label">[129]</a> Any one who wishes to see compressed within one volume an account of the -opinions of the human race all through time regarding Satan, will find it in <cite>The -History of the Devil, Ancient and Modern</cite>, already mentioned. The second part -of the work deals more particularly to the line of thought suggested by Janet. -An edition of the work, published in London in 1793, lies before us; and the -following verse on the title-page, referring in a slight degree to the remark in the -text, may be quoted:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘Bad as he is, the Devil may be abus’d,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Be falsely charged, and causelessly accused:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When Men, unwilling to be blamed alone,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shift off those crimes on him which are their own.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_130" href="#FNanchor_130" class="label">[130]</a> It would be difficult to find so much folk-lore compressed into so few lines. -The passage is a valuable representation of the popular belief.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_131" href="#FNanchor_131" class="label">[131]</a> Illustrations of the use of the advice here given may be found in a note to -<cite>John Cheap the Chapman</cite>, at p. 104 of this volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_132" href="#FNanchor_132" class="label">[132]</a> See first note on <a href="#Page_95">p. 95</a> of the present volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_133" href="#FNanchor_133" class="label">[133]</a> In the Edinburgh reprint of 1820, all after the word ‘Paepery’ in this paragraph -is left out here. After Janet’s reply, beginning—‘But Maggy, an ye be a -mind to marry,’ etc, it is inserted as a separate speech by Margaret, all between -‘Paepery’ and ‘O woman, but a man,’ etc., being omitted altogether, the paragraph -opening with the last quoted words.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_134" href="#FNanchor_134" class="label">[134]</a> The ‘duket,’ or dove-cot, would be one of those large stone structures only -occasionally to be found in Scotland now.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_135" href="#FNanchor_135" class="label">[135]</a> In the edition of this chap-book, published in 1807, by J. & M. Robertson, -Saltmarket, Glasgow, there is here a break in the narrative, and the following -paragraph, with its accompanying heading, is inserted:—</p> - -<p class="center">‘<em>Janet’s Advice to Maggy concerning Marriage.</em></p> - -<p>‘While these two old Haverels were thus discussing together at their rocks, -amongst other things Maggy told Janet, that although she was now above a -hundred years of age, she had a great desire for a husband, but that she would -be obliged to use some methods and enticements to make the young men fall in -love wi’ her. Upon which, Janet gave her the following witty advice.’</p> - -<p>The dialogue then proceeds as given in the edition re-produced in these pages. -The interpolation here quoted seems to be by a hand other than that of the -author, for it in some respects goes back upon Maggy’s previous statements, and -makes an unnatural break in the dialogue.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_136" href="#FNanchor_136" class="label">[136]</a> In an undated edition of the <cite>Haverel Wives</cite>, published by J. Morren, of the -Cowgate, Edinburgh, the story is here brought to a close with the following -lines:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘When Maggy and Janet had fairly done,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With their clashes from their tongue</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They went and birl’d their baubees,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">They clash’d and told all downright lies.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Now Janet and Maggy did agree,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Never to drink one drop of tea</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But stout brown ale and wiskky bare,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And they shook hands and came away.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>This ending, however, is hardly so consistent as the one given in the text.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_137" href="#FNanchor_137" class="label">[137]</a> All that follows in this paragraph is left out in the Edinburgh reprint.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_138" href="#FNanchor_138" class="label">[138]</a> A nick-name to the wife’s daughter that no man will marry, because stuff’d -full of laziness, self-conceit and stinking pride; or if she be married, she’ll ly like -stinking butter on his stomach while she lives.—<cite>Original Note.</cite></p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_139" href="#FNanchor_139" class="label">[139]</a> This paragraph is thus abridged in an edition published in 1824—‘4thly, concluding -with an advice to young men and women.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_140" href="#FNanchor_140" class="label">[140]</a> A common name for a cow.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_141" href="#FNanchor_141" class="label">[141]</a> A literal description of whale-bone stays.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_142" href="#FNanchor_142" class="label">[142]</a> ‘Witless wanton waster,’ in 1820 reprint.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_143" href="#FNanchor_143" class="label">[143]</a> The fabulous story of Fortunatus was known to every hind in the country -through chap-books editions of his adventures.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_144" href="#FNanchor_144" class="label">[144]</a> In the 1824 edition all that comes between the words ‘cannot help’ and -‘until they disdain now to ride upon pads,’ as in the text above, is omitted. The -reading in that edition is:—‘The last prevailing evil that I see, all men may hear, -but none strive to help; women now disdain to ride on pads, as of old,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_145" href="#FNanchor_145" class="label">[145]</a> Probably Carlisle.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_146" href="#FNanchor_146" class="label">[146]</a> Scotch people have always had the idea that the use of carriages was a sign -of effeminacy. Innovations tending towards ease and luxury in any direction were -discountenanced; and the story is told of an old Highland chieftain who was -highly mortified when he found that his son, on an expedition with the clan, used -a stone for a pillow when sleeping on the hills. The use of a pillow of any kind -seemed to him a symptom of declension.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_147" href="#FNanchor_147" class="label">[147]</a> The Scots generally consider their native dialect as different from the English. -They acknowledge a common origin, but argue for a different development. A -look over the glossary at the end will give the reader some idea of the material -divergences that have arisen in the growth of the Anglo-Saxon tongue in England -and Scotland.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_148" href="#FNanchor_148" class="label">[148]</a> In the 1824 edition, all between this and the paragraph beginning, ‘Another -grievance of the female offenders,’ is left out.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_149" href="#FNanchor_149" class="label">[149]</a> The rest of this paragraph in the 1824 edition reads:—‘I mean the flyers, -who have got more silver than sense, more haughtiness than gold, and value themselves -as treasure incomprehensible, their whole body as if set about with precious -stones, and the solemnity, or their marriage, is like a peace after a bloody war.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_150" href="#FNanchor_150" class="label">[150]</a> There has always been in Scotland a tendency to make the celebration of a -marriage the occasion of great festivity. The Church for a time tried to keep this -within proper bounds, and generally allowed an expense of six shillings Scots (six -pence sterling) for each guest. This was, however, often exceeded, and the -parties had to answer to the Kirk Session for doing so. Even elders of the Kirk, -when their daughters were being married, sometimes overstepped the limit, and -had to make their repentance for it.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_151" href="#FNanchor_151" class="label">[151]</a> This paragraph ends as follows in the 1824 edition:—‘as the skimings of a -pot of green kail, and the poor husband has to return at ten o’clock to his fore-noon’s -wark, without his breakfast, hanging his head like a brewer’s horse at the -ale-house door.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_152" href="#FNanchor_152" class="label">[152]</a> The 1824 edition ends here, with the sentence:—‘That such a wife may be -the lot of every young lad, is the earnest prayer of Grannie M‘Nab.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_153" href="#FNanchor_153" class="label">[153]</a> In Morren’s edition the order of the first three stories is different. In it the -second story as above is first, the third second, and the first third.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_154" href="#FNanchor_154" class="label">[154]</a> This ‘joke’ is left out in Morren’s edition; and the story about the drover, -to be found at p. 161, is inserted before the one of the three merry companions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_155" href="#FNanchor_155" class="label">[155]</a> Perhaps other three miles. The Scottish ‘bittock’ is rather an elastic expression.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_156" href="#FNanchor_156" class="label">[156]</a> Although the Scots have always been more or less of a military nation, the -common people have generally had a sort of pitying contempt for mercenary soldiery, -as opposed to the old feudal system of raising an army. It would be difficult -to account for this feeling, but it is still the fact that even now service in the -army is regarded as the last resource of a respectable tradesman or countryman.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_157" href="#FNanchor_157" class="label">[157]</a> ‘Brucket’ in Morren’s edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_158" href="#FNanchor_158" class="label">[158]</a> ‘Danger,’ according to Morren.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_159" href="#FNanchor_159" class="label">[159]</a> This biographical preface was, according to Motherwell, given in an edition -published in Glasgow in 1779, probably after Graham’s death.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_160" href="#FNanchor_160" class="label">[160]</a> In Morren’s edition the following lines precede the title:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘This Catechism deserves no Creed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It’s only for boys who will not read</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On wiser books them to instruct!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Let droll John their fancy cook.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_161" href="#FNanchor_161" class="label">[161]</a> Properly Milngavie, in the neighbourhood of Glasgow. The common pronunciation -of the word is phonetically given as ‘Milguy’ in Morren’s edition. In -the modern Glasgow copies the spelling is ‘Mullgay.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_162" href="#FNanchor_162" class="label">[162]</a> ‘Or the Hottentot gibberish,’ is added in the modern Glasgow editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_163" href="#FNanchor_163" class="label">[163]</a> Randall’s and Morren’s editions end here, the former with the lines quoted -in p. 168 as preceding the title of Morren’s edition. What follows in the text -appears in undated editions published in Glasgow within the last fifty years.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_164" href="#FNanchor_164" class="label">[164]</a> Suggested, apparently, by Proverbs, vi. 26.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_165" href="#FNanchor_165" class="label">[165]</a> Red-headed.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_166" href="#FNanchor_166" class="label">[166]</a> ‘In his teeth,’ according to a modern undated edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_167" href="#FNanchor_167" class="label">[167]</a> <em>I.e.</em>, off the Mull of Galloway.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_168" href="#FNanchor_168" class="label">[168]</a> A custom which has not yet fallen into disuetude in Irish communities. The -popular idea of the use of these articles is simply that the brogues are for the -accommodation of the dead man on his journey heaven-wards; the candle to light -him on the way; the ‘good hard-headed old hammer’ to raise St. Peter, the -venerable porter at the celestial gate; and the money is to pay for tolls. To many -persons this explanation may smack somewhat of irreverence, but we are not aware -of any more satisfactory explanation of the custom. Divested of its ‘bulls,’ the -narrative of Teague is a fair outline of the proceedings at an Irish funeral.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_169" href="#FNanchor_169" class="label">[169]</a> <em>i.e.</em> or a devil in its stead.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_170" href="#FNanchor_170" class="label">[170]</a> The text up till this point has been published separately under the title of -‘The Miseries of Poor Simple Innocent Silly Tam.’ The ‘Misfortunes’ are not -given in that chap-book. In all the other editions of <cite>Simple John</cite> which have -come under the notice of the editor, each of the ‘misfortunes’ is given a separate -numerical title, as ‘Misfortune I.,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_171" href="#FNanchor_171" class="label">[171]</a> The inhabitants of Buck-haven have always been acknowledged to be a -peculiar people. An account of their origin is to the effect that they are the -descendants of the crew of a ship from the Netherlands, which stranded on the -coast of Fifeshire in reign of James IV. The village of Buckie, mentioned in the -text, is on the Moray Firth, in the parish of Ruthven, county of Banff.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_172" href="#FNanchor_172" class="label">[172]</a> This paragraph is omitted in the modern and Randall’s editions. The narrative -in them begins with the next paragraph.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_173" href="#FNanchor_173" class="label">[173]</a> In Randall’s and the modern edition this paragraph begins:—‘Again, these -people are said to have descended from one Tom, and his two sons,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_174" href="#FNanchor_174" class="label">[174]</a> ‘Other hand,’ instead of ‘fishers of Bucky-harbour,’ in abridged editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_175" href="#FNanchor_175" class="label">[175]</a> The sentence reads thus in abridged editions:—‘The Lord o’ the manor decided -all disputable points, and wise Willie,’ etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_176" href="#FNanchor_176" class="label">[176]</a> The word ‘mancoes’ is substituted for ‘mutches’ in the two abridged editions. -They seem to have the same significance.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_177" href="#FNanchor_177" class="label">[177]</a> The people of Buckhaven seem to have been free from the old superstition -regarding the horse-shoe charm. A horse-shoe nailed to a stable door kept the -four-footed inmates free from the power of ‘uncanny’ beings. The custom still -lingers in the country, but it is due more to use and wont than any active belief in -its virtues.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_178" href="#FNanchor_178" class="label">[178]</a> A similar circumstance is related in the <cite>History of John Cheap the Chapman</cite>. -See text and note at <a href="#Page_93">p. 93</a>, vol. ii.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_179" href="#FNanchor_179" class="label">[179]</a> Christening was looked upon by the people of Scotland as almost necessary to -salvation. That doctrine held by a large section of the Christian church, was here -largely mingled with superstition, and the powers of evil were thought to have a -malign influence on the body and soul of an unchristened person. The popular -ideas on the subject may be found fairly well brought out at p. 34 of the present -volume.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_180" href="#FNanchor_180" class="label">[180]</a> ‘Herd laddies,’ in the two abridged editions: but ‘ill-bred laddies’ in Morren’s -edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_181" href="#FNanchor_181" class="label">[181]</a> All this part, with the exception of the paragraph given in a subsequent note, -is omitted in the two abridged editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_182" href="#FNanchor_182" class="label">[182]</a> See <a href="#Footnote_89">note at p. 102</a> of the present volume. ‘My Lord,’ as feudal superior -would have the appointment in his gift, in the same way as, prior to the year 1636, the -prelates of Glasgow, had the power of presentation to the Provostship of the city.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_183" href="#FNanchor_183" class="label">[183]</a> Probably a stupid synonym for crutches.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_184" href="#FNanchor_184" class="label">[184]</a> In the olden times the lord and lady moved out and in among their people, -and took an active interest in their every day concerns. This intercourse was -generally productive of good, and the relationship between a superior and his -vassals or tenants was of the most pleasant kind.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_185" href="#FNanchor_185" class="label">[185]</a> This and other names in the chap-book give examples of the need there was -in a community, consisting really of one large family, with the same surname -common to almost all, for nicknames to distinguish between several persons who -also bore the same Christian name. A more interesting account of such a circumstance -is given by Cosmo Innes, in his work on <cite>Some Scottish Surnames</cite>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_186" href="#FNanchor_186" class="label">[186]</a> The coarse language here used is in no way an exaggerated account of what -may have actually occurred at the period with which the author is dealing. Great -laxity of morals and of speech prevailed; but vice, it must also be stated, came -more to the surface than now. The people were uncultivated, and did not seek to -cast a veil of prudery over their failings, however much these were to be reprobated. -Swearing was then considered fashionable among the ladies of England: -what could be expected from the peasantry of Scotland?</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_187" href="#FNanchor_187" class="label">[187]</a> Belief in dreams and omens was almost universal, and was fostered by the -chap dream-books, whose modern successors may be found in <cite>Napoleon’s Book -of fate</cite>, etc.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_188" href="#FNanchor_188" class="label">[188]</a> The foregoing paragraph was thus given in the abridged editions:—‘There -was a custom in Bucky harbour, when they got a hearty drink, that they went -down to dance among the boats, two or three of the oldest went into a boat to see -the rest dance, and when they admitted a burgher, there was always a dance. -One day they admitted gly’d Rob, who was a warlock, and made them all stop -their dancing, for which he was carried before wise Willie to answer for that, for -which he was banished to the isle of May, to carry coals to the Light House.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_189" href="#FNanchor_189" class="label">[189]</a> Willy Thomson must have been guilty of some serious offence, when he was -condemned to slavery. In comparatively recent times actual property in the persons -who worked in coal-mines in Scotland was to be found, and the old records bear -ample testimony to the existence of serfdom, and to the punishment of subjection -to slavery being considered a part of the judicial system of the country.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_190" href="#FNanchor_190" class="label">[190]</a> The third of May, when many superstitious observances were made. The -first of May was Beltane, and has been traced to the fire-worship of the ancient -Caledonians. Rood-day superstitions, however, were of more recent origin. Great -precautions were taken against the power of witches and fairies, and if these should -be neglected ill-luck would follow. Jamieson, in his <cite>Dictionary of the Scottish -Language</cite>, under the word ‘Rude-day,’ gives a most interesting account of the -ceremonies gone through on the yearly return of the festival.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_191" href="#FNanchor_191" class="label">[191]</a> The ‘mauken,’ or hare seems to have occupied a most important position in the -folk-lore of all countries, but notably of Scotland. Sir Walter Scott, in his work -on <cite>Demonology and Witchcraft</cite>, tells how Isobel Gowdie, one of the witches of -Auldern, disguised herself as a hare and after being hunted by hounds for some -time, took refuge in a house where she found opportunity to say the disenchanting -rhyme:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘Hare, Hare, God send thee care!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I am in a hare’s likeness now;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But I shall be woman even now—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hare, hare, God send thee care:’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>That is her own story. A most valuable and interesting article, on ‘The Hare -in Folk-Lore’ was contributed to a recent number of the <cite>Folk-Lore Journal</cite> by -Mr. William George Black, F.S.A. Scot., and should be consulted by those who -wish to know more about this subject.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_192" href="#FNanchor_192" class="label">[192]</a> The statement contained in the text gives an excellent account of what was -believed to be the attributes of the water-kelpie. In many old ballads references, -such as the following, may be found:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse indentq">‘The bonnie gray mare did sweat for fear,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For she heard the water-kelpie roaring.’</div> -</div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_193" href="#FNanchor_193" class="label">[193]</a> Frequent reference has been made to the supposed power of fairies over unchristened -children and their mothers. ‘Changelings’ were greatly feared. If a -child developed a strong and uncontrollable temper there arose a suspicion that it -was a ‘changeling,’ the meaning being that the fairies had slipped away the -mother’s own child and substituted a little fiend in human form in its stead. It -was believed that the best way to set the suspicion at rest was to submit the little -unfortunate to the test of the fire. We have not, however, noticed any case -where the test was actually carried out.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_194" href="#FNanchor_194" class="label">[194]</a> The ‘mauken’s fit’ was particularly feared by the fishers on the east-coast of -Scotland. Very recently, and it may be so still, it was sufficient to raise the ire -of a fisher woman to wish she had a hare’s foot in her creel. The wish was -regarded as equivalent to a malediction.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_195" href="#FNanchor_195" class="label">[195]</a> That is, a maker of shallow baskets such as are used by fishers for carrying -their fish.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_196" href="#FNanchor_196" class="label">[196]</a> ‘Maids of honour,’ instead of ‘Maries,’ in the more recent editions. Jamieson, -under the word ‘Maries,’ says:—‘The designation given to the maids of honour in -Scotland.... This Queen [Mary Stuart] had four maids of honour, all of the -name of <em>Mary</em>. There were Mary Livingston, Mary Fleming—Seaton, and—Beaton. -Hence it has been supposed, that the name passed into a general denomination -for female attendants.... From analogy, I am much inclined to -think that the term is far more ancient than the period referred to. For we learn -from Lye [<cite lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dictionarium Saxonico et Gothico-Latinum</cite>], that the O. E. [Old -English] called the queen’s maids, the <em>Queen’s Meys</em>. Hence it is highly probable -that our term <em>Marie</em> is an official designation, and allied to Isl. [Icelandic] <em>maer</em>, -a maid, a virgin.... Thus the <em>Queen’s Maries</em>, a phrase still common among -the vulgar, may be exactly synonymous with the <em>Queen’s Maids</em>.’</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_197" href="#FNanchor_197" class="label">[197]</a> This story is not given in Randall’s edition; but it has been inserted here from -the Falkirk 1799 edition. A similar story is told of ‘Tom Tram,’ an English -chap-book hero, and of Sancho Panza, in <cite>Don Quixote</cite>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_198" href="#FNanchor_198" class="label">[198]</a> In the later editions the dispute is said to have arisen about ‘education,’ not -‘religion,’ and it is stated of George that ‘he blanked the bishop remarkably.’ -While this story undoubtedly presents an exaggerated picture of the educational -virtues of Scotland, it must be remembered that owing to the system of parochial -schools instituted by Knox the lower classes in Scotland had facilities for instruction, -especially in the classics, which the otherwise more favoured English people -did not possess.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_199" href="#FNanchor_199" class="label">[199]</a> A similar story will be found in Bacon’s <cite>Apothegms</cite>. See <cite>Essays and Historical -Works</cite>, Bohn’s edition, p. 189.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_200" href="#FNanchor_200" class="label">[200]</a> Properly ‘Kinbot.’ The law or custom is much older than the reign of James -VI., as the story here indicates. Jamieson derives the word from Anglo-Saxon -<em>cin</em>, kindred, and <em>bot</em>, compensation. The present editor, in his <cite>History of Glasgow</cite>, -p. 114, gives an account of an interesting case which occurred in Glasgow in the -sixteenth century.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_201" href="#FNanchor_201" class="label">[201]</a> ‘One hundred crowns,’ in the later editions.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_202" href="#FNanchor_202" class="label">[202]</a> This story, and the one immediately following it, are not in Randall’s edition, -but have been inserted from the 1799 Falkirk edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_203" href="#FNanchor_203" class="label">[203]</a> Also to be found among Bacon’s <cite>Apothegms</cite>, Bohn’s edition, p. 168.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_204" href="#FNanchor_204" class="label">[204]</a> This and the preceding story are from the Falkirk edition.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_205" href="#FNanchor_205" class="label">[205]</a> This story has been inserted from the Falkirk edition. It is not in the one -by Randall.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_206" href="#FNanchor_206" class="label">[206]</a> Auchterarder.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_207" href="#FNanchor_207" class="label">[207]</a> From the Falkirk edition.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<div class="transnote pg-brk"> -<a name="TN" id="TN"></a> -<p><strong>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</strong></p> - -<p><a href="#Footnote_118">Footnote [118]</a> is referenced twice from <a href="#Page_130">page 130</a>.</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been -corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within -the text and consultation of external sources.</p> - -<p>Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, -and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained. The spelling -of all Scottish dialect words has been left unchanged.</p> - -<p> -<a href="#tn-16">Pg 16</a>: ‘but but yet nane’ replaced by ‘but yet nane’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-43">Pg 43</a>: ‘their’s nae fear’ replaced by ‘there’s nae fear’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-55">Pg 55</a>: ‘Sawney but ye’ replaced by ‘Sawny but ye’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-60">Pg 60</a>: ‘the’re well paid’ replaced by ‘they’re well paid’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-68">Pg 68</a>: ‘his mastre had’ replaced by ‘his master had’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-82">Pg 82</a>: ‘lad to Louthan’ replaced by ‘lad to Louthian’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-117">Pg 117</a>: ‘heal and fiar’ replaced by ‘heal and fair’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-157">Pg 157</a>: ‘but kep-jogging’ replaced by ‘but kept jogging’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-159">Pg 159</a>: ‘now and than’ replaced by ‘now and then’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-161">Pg 161</a>: ‘ther is nothing’ replaced by ‘there is nothing’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-186">Pg 186</a>: ‘your potates home’ replaced by ‘your potatoes home’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-187">Pg 187</a>: ‘to Port Partrick’ replaced by ‘to Port Patrick’.<br /> -<a href="#Page_204">Pg 204</a>: <a href="#Footnote_169">Footnote [169]</a> was an embedded sidenote in the original text.<br /> -<a href="#tn-242">Pg 242</a>: ‘was falsefied’ replaced by ‘was falsified’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-247">Pg 247</a>: ‘swore a rap’ replaced by ‘swore a rape’.<br /> -<a href="#tn-255">Pg 255</a>: ‘to do, do, knowing’ replaced by ‘to do, knowing’.<br /> -</p> -</div> - - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF DOUGAL GRAHAM, "SKELLAT" BELLMAN OF GLASGOW, VOL. 2 OF 2 ***</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This file should be named 64219-h.htm or 64219-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/1/64219/</div> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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