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 too thin; so the goodman, being a sworn birly-man 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 bade awa frae them. A sweet be here, mither, said he, do you 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 gude substantial meat;--a what say you chapman? Indeed, goodwife, said I, sowens are but saft meat at the best, but, if you make them thick enough, and put a good lump of butter in them, they’ll do very well for a supper. I trow sae lad, said she, ye ha’e some sense: so the old woman put on the pot with her sowens, and went to milk the cows, leaving me to steer; the goodman, her son, as soon as she went out, took a great cogful of water, and put it into the pot amongst the sowens, and then went out of the house and left me alone: I considering what sort of a pish-the-bed supper I was to get if I staid there, thought it fit to set out, but takes up a pitcher of 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 witched sowens at their own pleasure.

The next little town I came to, and the very first house that 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 gart our Sandy burn the gude bane kame it I gid a saxpence for in Fa’kirk, ay did ye, ay, 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 a’ the days of my life, and do not say that Sandy is mine. A wae worth 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 me for’t. Gae awa, sir, said I, your mother and you are but mocking me. It was either you or ane like you, or some other body. O goodwife, I mind who it is now; ’twas just ane like me, when ye see the tane ye see the tither; they ca’ him Jock Jimbither. A wae worth him, quoth the wife, if I dinna thrapple him for my gude bane kame. Now, said I, goodwife, be good, bridle your passion, and buy a bane kame and coloured napkin, I’ll gie you a whaukin’ 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 o’t sweetly or a’ be done. Hech, man, said she, ye’re a hearty fallow, and I hae need o’ a’ these things, but a bane kame I maun hae; 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 grow as grit as grossets. And here I sold a bane kame and a napkin, for she believed such a douse lad as I had no hand in making the boy burn the bone comb.

The next house I came into, there was a very little tailor sitting on a table, like a t--d on a trencher, with his legs plet over other, made me imagine he was a sucking three-footed tailor; first I sold him a thimble, and then he wanted needles which I showed him, one paper after another; he looked their eyes and trying their nibs 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 did not perceive him. O said he them needles of yours are not good, man, I’ll not buy any of them. I do not think you need, said I, taking them out of his hand, and lights a candle that was standing near by; come, said I, sit about, you thieving dog, till I gather up my needles, then gathers up ten of them.

Come, said he, I’ll buy twa penny worth of them frae ye, I hae troubled you sae muckle; no, said I, you lousied 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 you in the fire, though it be in your own house; but as you are a poor tailor, and neither a man nor a boy, I’ll do nothing but expose you for what you are. O dear honest chapman, cried his wife, ye maunna do that, and I’se gie you cheese and bread. No, no, you thieves, I’m for nothing but vengeance; no bribes for such. So as I was lifting up my pack, there was a pretty black cat which I spread my napkin over, took the four corners in my hand, carrying her as a bundle, until 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 tailor’s cat in the midst of them, and a terrible battle ensued for some time, and baudrins had certainly died in the field, had I not interposed and got her off mortally wounded. The people who saw the battle alarmed the tailor, and he sallied out like a great 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 travelled down the side of a water called Avon; 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 he dipt it full and set it down on the ground, staring at me he rumbled 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 you had 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--e, so that I fell designedly on his pitcher, and it tumbled down the bank and 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, I met an old crabbed fellow riding upon an old glaid mare, which he always was thrashing upon with his stick. Goode’en to you, goodman, said I, are you going to the bull wi’ your mare? What do you say sir? they gang to the bull wi’ a cow, you brute. O yes, goodman, you are right, said I; but what do they ca’ the he-beast that rides on the mare’s back? They ca’d 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 waur than your first: he comes then to ride me down, but I struck his beast on the face, and in a short turn about it fell, yet, or I could get my pack to the ground, he cut me on the head at the first stroke; I then getting clear of the pack, played it away for some time, till by blows on the face, I made him bleed at both mouth and nose; then he cried out, Chapman, we are baith daft, for we’ll kill oursells and mak naething o’t; we had better ’gree: with all my heart, said I; and what will you buy? nothing but a pair of beard shears, said he, and give me them cheap; so I sold him a pair of B. shears, for three half-pence, and give 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 sweet and dear companion, and here we held a most terrible encounter with the tippenny for twa nights and a day; and then we set out for Fife, on the hair order, by the way of Torryburn and Culross; and came up to a parcel of women washing by a water-side, I buys one of their hair: the time I was cutting it off, Tom fell a courting and kissing and clapping one of them, what happened I know not, but she cried out, Ye mislear’d filthy fallow, ye put your hand atween my feet. Daft jade, canna ye haud your tongue when it’s your ain shame that ye speak. Filthy body, the last chapman that kissed me had a horse pack, but he’ll hae naething in his Pack but auld breeks, hare skins, mauken skins, or ony trash that fills the bag and bears bouk, and yet he wad kiss and handle me! I was made for a better fallow.

FINIS.

THE

COMICAL HISTORY

OF

SIMPLE JOHN

AND HIS

TWELVE MISFORTUNES,

WHICH HAPPENED ALL IN TWELVE DAYS AFTER THE UNHAPPY DAY OF HIS MARRIAGE.

GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

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, drugget and harn was the finest webs he could lay his fingers to: he was a great lump of a lang, lean lad, aboon sax feet afore he was aughteen years 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 with him, but yet he hoped it would follow him, and he would meet wi’t as mony a ane does after they’re married. He had but ae sister, and she had as little sense as himsel’, she was married on Sleeky Willie, the wylie weaver; his mither was a rattling rattle-scull’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 estate, to the age of twenty-one years, he told his mither he would hae a wife o’ some sort, either young or auld, widow or lass, if they had but heads and lips, tongue and tail, he should 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, wha had three doughters, and every ane o’ them had something, there was Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had a hundred merks the piece. Kate and Ann had baith bastards. Girzy the eldest had a humph back, a high breast, baker legged, 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 haggis, a second edition of crook backed Richard, an old English King, that was born with teeth to bite a’ around about him, and yet the wight gaed mad to be married.

John’s mither told 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 of new pillonian breeks o’ his mither’s making. In he comes and tells 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 douchters hae ye? Are they a’ married yet? I fain wad tak a look o’ some o’ them gin ye like.

A wow, said the goodwife, come in by, honest lad, and rest ye, an ye be a wooer sit down and gie’s a snuff--A deed, goodwife, I hae nae mills but my mither’s, and it’s at hame.--Whare win ye, I’se no ken ye? I wat, quoth he, my name’s Jock Sandyman, and 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 pigs, four cogs, and a candlestick, a good cock, a cat, twa errocks 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 harl o’ health she has is about dinner time; what say ye till’t, goodman? can ye buckle me or not?

_Goodman._ A dear John, ye’re in an unco haste, ye wadna hae your wife hame wi’ ye? they’re a’ there before ye, which o’ them will ye tak?

Hout, tout, says John, ony o’ them will sair me, but my mither says there is twa o’ them has fauts. And what is their fauts? says 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 among ither beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let somebody tak them up o’ desperate debt, I sud flie the fykes frae them, they anger’d you, and sham’d you baith with 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, then, will ye tak me; I hae nae bastards; how will you and I do?

_John._ I wat na gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some waur 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 carded through ither, we may get bonny weans o’ a middlen mak. I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a humph back, a short neck, and high shouthers, the hands and legs may do, tho’ your mouth be a wee to the tae side it will lie weel to the rock, and I hae a hantle o’ tow to spin, will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye’ll be my soncy dauty, up and down; a perfect beauty, wi’ cat’s yellow een, black brous, and red lips, and your very nose is a purple 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, should na ye be ready whan I’m ready, and every body says that the woman’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 weel, goodman, I’ll tell my mither o’t, and come back on Monday, and we’ll hae a chappin o’ ale, and roasted cheese on the chance o’t, but I maun hae a word o’ the bride out by, to convoy me, and a quiet speak to hersel about it.

_Goodwife._ A wow na, John, the daft loons will laugh at you, and she’ll think shame, gang ye out by, and she’ll speak to you through 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 suth I’m no scorning.

_Girzy._ Indeed, John, I’m very willing to tak ye, but ye needna tell every body about it.

_John._ Then gie me a kiss on that.

He shoves 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 weel; it’s a pity there is sic a hard wa’ between us, I’se tell my mither sae bonny as ye are: O, gie me anither kiss yet, and then I’ll go. One of her sisters standing by in a dark corner, gets haud o’ a cow’s head, which wanted a’ the skin but about the mouth, and shoves it towards his mouth, which he kissed in the dark. O, cries he, your mouth be cauld since I kissed ye last, and I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that before, 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.

All things was got ready, and next week Sleeky Willie the weaver and him came to gree the marriage, and stay all night with the bride, and teach John good manners, for when John was hungry, he minded his meat mair than his good behaviour, and he never was fu’ till the dish was tume. Willie the weaver was to tramp on his fit when he thought he had suppet aneugh; so all things being agreed, upon short and easy terms, and the wedding day set, they were to be three times cried on Sunday, and quietly married on Monday, neither piper nor fiddler to be employ’d, but sweith awa hame frae the Minister, and into the bed amang the blankets; ha, ha, cried John, that’s the best o’t a’.

Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper was brought, a large fat haggis, the very smell wad a done a hungry body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups, until one of the butcher’s meikle dogs tramped on John’s fit, which he took to be the weaver, and then he would eat nae mair. 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 whare it was set; they are a’sleeping, I’ll go rise and tak a soup o’t yet. Aye, een do sae, said Sleeky Willie, and bring a soup to me too. Away then John goes to the amry, and lays to the haggis, till his ain haggis could haud nae mair; then brought some to Sleeky Willie; but, instead of going to the bed where he was, goes to the bed where the bride and the twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks slowly, Will ye tak it, will ye tak it; but they making no answer, he turns up the blankets to put a soup into Willie’s mouth, but instead of doing so, he puts a great spoonful close into one of their backsides. Sleeky Willie hears a’ that past, comes out the bed, and sups out the remainder, and sets up the dish where it was, leaves the amry door open to let the cats get the blame of supping the haggis, and away they go to bed; but poor John could 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 nane he closed his hand when it was within the pitcher, and then could not get it out, goes to the bed and tells Sleeky Willie 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 make a noise in the house. So out he goes, and the bride’s sister who had gotten the great spoonful of the haggis 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 ower her hurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces about her, then off she runs with the fright, round a turf-stack, and into the house before him. John came in trembling to the bed again, wi’ the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic a knocking-stane he never yet saw, for it ran clean awa when he broke the pig upon it.

Now John was furnished in a house by his father-in-law; the bed, the loom, heddles, treadles, thrumbs, reed, and pirn-wheel, was a’ brought and set up before the marriage, which was kept a profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain wife, and his ain house 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 the rent for three years; they were to hae nae servants, until they had children; and their 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 she said, wha wrought best for’t.

MISFORTUNE I.

Then she ordered John to rise and begin his wark, by putting on a fire, and to tak the twa new pigs and gang to the well for water. No sooner had John opened the door, and gone out with a pig in every hand, than a’ the boys and girls being gathered in a crowd 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 twa pigs, clashes the tane against the tither, till baith went to pieces, and that was a cheerful huzza to baith young and auld that was looking at him; Girzy the wife draws him into the house, and to him she flies with the wicked wife’s weapon, her Tongue and Tangs, and made his ribs to crack, saying, “They told me ye war daft, but I’ll ding the daffing out o’ ye, I’ll begin wi’ you as I’ve a mind to end wi’ you.” Poor John sat crying and clawing his head.

“Ha, ha,” said he, “its nae bairn’s play to be married, I find that already.” His mother-in-law came in and made up peace, went to a cooper, and got them a big wooden stoop to carry in their water.

MISFORTUNE 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 flesher dogs fall on and worry at a poor country colly dog; “Justice, justice,” cries John to the dogs, “ye’re but a wheen unmannerly rascals, that fa’s a’ on ae poor beast, heth ye should a’ be put in the toubuoth, and ta’en to the bailies, and hanged for the like o’ that; its perfect murder;” and in he runs amongst the dogs, “And be hanged to you a’ thegither, What’s the quarrel? What’s the quarrel?” John flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips the colly, who took John for an enemy too, and bites his hands till the blood followed, the whole of the tykes comes a’ on poor John, till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one of the dogs runs off with the flesh, so John went hame both dirty and bloody and without his flesh, told 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 ne’er do a better turn.

MISFORTUNE 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 couldna win out: some people passing by chance heard the slunge, cried, and ran to his relief, hauled 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 hard Tangs.

MISFORTUNE 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 you buy: see that ye put on the pat, hae’t boiling again I come hame. John promised weel, but performs very badly. She’s no sooner gone, than he puts on the new pat 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 persuaded John to take a game wi’ them, on he plays, till ane o’ the boys cries, Hey John, yonders your Girzy coming. John runs into the house wi’ the water, and the pat being red-hot on the fire, he tumes in the cauld water into it, which made the pat flee all in pieces, just as she was entering the door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying catch the thief, some persons stopped him; she comes up, and then she laboured him all the way hame, and he crying, “O Sirs, ye see what it is to be married!” The mither-in-law had to make up peace again, and he promised good behaviour in time to come.

MISFORTUNE V.

On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash some cow’s 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 turned and washed 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 ane, which he carried hame in his hand, crying like a child, and underwent a severe tost of the old plaister before any mercy was shown.

MISFORTUNE 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 half-pence, 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 would not be stopped for him, he knocks the horse on the face with the napkin and the money, so the napkin rave, 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 old plaister, which he got very sickerly.

MISFORTUNE VII.

On the next morning, she sent him again to the bridge, to see if he could find any of it in the water, and there he found some ducks swimming, 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 ragman came past, and took away all his clothes. So he went home naked to get a bath of the old plaister.

MISFORTUNE VIII.

The next morning, she sent him to a farm-house for a pigful of buttermilk, and as he was returning through the fields, the farmer’s bull and another bull were fighting; the farmer’s bull being like to loss, John runs in behind him, and sets his head to the bull’s tail, on 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 pig, and spilt the milk. So John went home to get his auld plaister, which began to be a usual diet to him, and so he regarded it the less.

MISFORTUNE IX.

His mother-in-law, with several auld witty wives, held a private council 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 into his hand, that he was ruined for ever; insisted either to unmarry them again, or send death and the bellman 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 de’il. The Minister began to exhort him to peace and patience, telling him that marriages were made in heaven: “ye’re a baist liar,” says John, “for I was married in your ain kitchen, and a’ the blackguards in the town were there, an it had a been a heaven they wadna win in, yet tell me that matrimony was sic a happy state, but had ye gotten as mony weel pay’d skins as I hae gotten, ye wad a kend what it was; ill chance on you, sir;” and out he goes cursing like a madman, throwing stanes and breaking the Minister’s windows for which he was caught and put twa hours in the stocks, and at last his lump of corruption came and rubbed his lugs, drew his nose, got him out, and drove him home before her, took a resolution never to set him about any business in time coming, but keep him on his loom.

MISFORTUNE X.

Now she gave him no sleep all that night for scolding. John got up in the morning lang or day, and left his Tormenter in bed, fell asleep upon his loom wi’ the 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 gets, and with her cries alarmed the neighbourhood who came to her relief; but poor John underwent a dreadful swabbing for this.

MISFORTUNE XI.

After the former hurry and beating being over, his work being stopt, he went to bed and slept a’ that day, and following night. On the next day, having nothing to do, she sent him in search of a hen’s nest, which had ta’en 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 broke, 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, scarce able to get hame, his face and nose all running of 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 you think there is ony of your banes broken; and what part of you is sairest? And what will I get to do good?” “Oh!” said he, “Girzy, I’m a’ brizzled 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, upo’ my word, ye’s no be here, gang whare ye like.”

MISFORTUNE XII.

Now, as poor John was turned 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 through 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 kent 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 fashious fouks; owns he has but an empty skull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment into it, never tells him o’ danger till it comes upon him, for his mother said he was a biddable bairn, if ony body had been to learn him wit.

FINIS.

THE

MERRY TALES

OF THE

WISE MEN

OF

GOTHAM.

Of merry Books this is the chief, ’Twill make you laugh your fill.

GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE MERRY TALES OF THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM

TALE I.

There were two men of Gotham, and one of them was going to Nottingham market to buy sheep, and both met together on Nottingham bridge. Well met, said one to the other; whither are you going? said he that came from Nottingham. Marry, said he that was going thither, I am going to the market to buy sheep. Buy sheep! said the other, which way will you bring them home? Marry, said the other, I will bring them over this bridge. By Robin Hood, said he that came from Nottingham, but thou shalt not. By my maid Margery, said the other, but I will. You shall not, said the one. I will, said the other. Then they beat their staves one against the other, and then against the ground, as if a hundred sheep had been betwixt them. Hold there, said the one. Beware of my sheep leaping over the bridge, said the other. I care not, said the one. They shall all come this way, said the other. But they shall not, said the one. Then said the other, if thou makest much ado, I will put my finger in thy mouth. A turd thou wilt, said the other. And as they were in contention, another wise man that belonged to Gotham, came from the market with a sack of meal on his horse; and seeing his neighbours at strife about sheep and none betwixt them, said he, Ah fools! will you never learn wit! Then help me, continued he, to lay this sack upon my shoulder; they did so, and he went to the side of the bridge and shook out the meal into the river, saying, How much meal is there in my sack, neighbour? Marry, said one, there is none. Indeed, replied this wise man, even so much wit is there in your two heads to strive for that you have not. Now which was the wisest of these three, I leave thee to judge.

TALE II.

There was a man of Gotham that rode to the market with two bushels of wheat, and lest his horse should be damaged by carrying too great a burden he was determined to carry the corn himself, upon his own neck, and still kept riding upon his horse till he arrived at the end of his journey. I will leave you to judge which was the wisest, his horse or himself.

TALE III.

On a time the men of Gotham fain would have pinned in the cuckoo that she might sing all the year; and in the midst of the town they had a hedge made round in compass, and got a cuckoo and put her into it, and said, Sing here, and thou shalt lack neither meat nor drink all the year. The cuckoo, when she found herself encompassed by the hedge, flew away. A vengeance on her, said these wise men, we did not make our hedge high enough.

TALE IV.

There was a man of Gotham who went to Nottingham market to sell cheese; and going down the hill to Nottingham bridge, one of his cheeses fell out of his wallet and ran down the hill. Whoreson, said the man, can you run to the market alone? I’ll now send one after another. Then laying his wallet down, and taking out the cheeses, he tumbled them down the hill one after another. Some ran into one bush and some into another. He charged them, however, to meet him at the market place. The man went to the market to meet the cheeses, and staying till the market was almost over, then went and inquired of his neighbours if they saw his cheeses come to the market? Why, who should bring them? says one; Marry, themselves, said the fellow, they knew the way very well. A vengeance on them, they ran so fast, I was afraid they would run beyond the market; I am sure they are by this time as far as York. So he immediately rode to York, but was much disappointed. And to add to it, he never found nor heard of one of his cheeses.

TALE V.

A man of Gotham bought, at Nottingham market, a trevet of bar iron; and going home with it, his feet grew weary with the carriage. He set it down, and seeing it had three feet, said, Whoreson, thou hast three feet and I but two; thou shalt bear me home if thou wilt, so he set himself down upon it, and said to it, bear me as long as I have done thee, for if thou dost not thou shalt stand still for me. The man of Gotham saw his trevet would not move. Stand still said he, in the Mayor’s name, and follow me if thou wilt, and I can shew you the right way. When he went home, his wife asked where the trevet was? He said it had three legs, and he had but two, and he had taught him the ready way to his house, therefore he might come himself if he would. Where did you leave the trevet? said the woman. At Gotham bridge, said he. So she immediately ran and fetched the trevet herself; otherwise she must have lost it on account of her husband’s want of wit.

TALE VI.

A certain smith of Gotham had a large wasp’s nest in the straw at the end of the forge, and there coming one of his neighbours to have his horse shod, and the wasps being exceeding busy, the man was stung by one of them. The man, being grievously affronted, said, Are you worthy to keep a forge or not, to have men stung with these wasps? O neighbour, said the smith, be content, and I will put them from their nest presently. Immediately he took a coulter, and heated it red hot, and thurst it into the straw at the end of his forge, and set it on fire, and burnt it up. Then, said the smith, I told thee I’d fire them out of their nest.

TALE VII.

On Good Friday the men of Gotham consulted together what to do with their white herrings, sprats, and salt fish, and agreed, that all such fish should be cast into a pond or pool, in the midst of the town, that the number of them might increase the next year. Therefore every one that had any fish left, did cast them immediately into the pond. Then said one, I have gotten left so many red herrings. Well, said another, and I have left so many whitings. Another cried out, I have as yet gotten so many sprats left. And, said the last, I have gotten so many salt fishes, let them go together in the great pond, without any distinction, and we may be sure to fare like lords the next year. At the beginning of the next Lent, they immediately went about drawing the pond, imagining they should have the fish, but were much surprised to find nothing but a great eel. Ah! said they, a mischief on this eel, for he hath eaten up our fish. What must we do with him? said one; chop him in pieces, said another. Nay, not so, said another, but let us drown him. Be it accordingly so, replied they all. So they went immediately to another pond, and cast the eel into the water. Lay there, said these wise men, and shift for thyself, since you may not expect help from us. So they left the eel to be drowned.

TALE VIII.

On a time the men of Gotham had forgotten to pay their rents to their landlord; so one said the other, to-morrow must be pay-day, by whom can we send our money? So one said, I have this day taken a hare, and she may carry it, for she is very quick footed; be it so, replied the rest; she shall have a letter, and a purse to put our money in, and we can direct her the way. When the letter was written and the money put into a purse, they tied them about the hare’s neck, saying, You must first go to Loughborough, and then to Leicester, and at Newark is our landlord; then commend us to him, and there is his due. The hare, as soon as she got out of their hands, ran quite a contrary way.--Some said, Thou must first go to Loughborough; others said, Let the hare alone, for she can tell a nearer way than the best of us; let her go.

TALE IX.

A man of Gotham, that went mowing in the meadow, found a large grasshopper He instantly threw down his scythe, and ran home to his neighbour, and said that the devil was at work in the field, and was hopping among the grass. Then was every man ready with their clubs, staves, halberts, and other weapons, to kill the grasshopper. When they came to the place where the grasshopper was, said one to the other, let every man cross himself from the devil, for we will not meddle with him. So they returned again, and said, We are blest this day that we went no farther. O ye cowards! said he that left the scythe in the meadow, help me to fetch my scythe. No, answered they, it is good to sleep in a whole skin. It is much better for thee to lose thy scythe than to mar us all.

TALE X.

On a certain time there were twelve men of Gotham that went to fish; some waded in the water, and some stood on dry land. In going home, one said to the other, we have ventured wonderfully in wading, I pray God that none of us did come from home to be drowned. Nay, marry, said one to the other, let us see that, for there did twelve of us come out. Then they told themselves, and every one told eleven. Said the one to the other, there is one of us drowned. They then went back to the brook, where they’d been fishing, and sought up and down for him that was drowned, making great lamentation. A courtier coming by, asked what it was they sought for, and why they were sorrowful. Oh, said they, this day we went to fish in the brook; twelve of us came out together, and one is drowned. The courtier said, tell how many there be of you. One of them told eleven, but he did not tell himself. Well, said the courtier, what will you give me, and I will find the twelfth man? All the money we have got, said they. Give me the money, said he. He began with the first, and gave him a stroke over the shoulders with his whip, that made him groan, saying, here is one, and so he served them all, and they groaned at the matter. When he came to the last, he paid him well, saying, here is the twelfth man. God’s blessings on thee said they, for finding our brother.

TALE XI.

A man of Gotham, riding along the highway, saw a cheese, so drew his sword and pricked it with the point, in order to pick it up. Another man who came by, alighted, picked it up, and rode away with it. The man of Gotham rides to Nottingham to buy a long sword to pick up the cheese, and returning to the place where it did lie, he pulled out his sword, pricked the ground, and said, if I had had but this sword I should have had the cheese myself, but now another has come before me and got it.

TALE XII.

A man in Gotham, that did not love his wife, and she having fair hair, he said divers times he would cut it off, but durst not do it when she was awake, so he resolved to do it when she was asleep; therefore, one night he took a pair of shears and put them under his pillow, which his wife perceiving, said to her maid, go to bed to my husband, to-night, for he intends to cut off my hair; let him cut off thy hair, and I will give thee as good a kirtle as ever thou didst see. The maid did so, and feigned herself asleep, which the man perceiving, cut off her hair, wrapped it about the shears, and, laying them under the pillow, fell asleep. The maid arose, and the wife took the hair and shears, and went to the hall and burnt the hair. The man had a fine horse that he loved, and the goodwife went into the stable, cut off the hair of the horse’s tail, wrapped the shears up in it, and laid them under the pillow again.--Her husband, seeing her combing her head in the morning, marvelled thereat. The girl, seeing her master in a deep study, said, What ails the horse in the stable, he has lost his tail? The man ran into the stable, and found the horse’s tail was cut off; then going to the bed, he found the shears wrapped up in his horse’s tail. He then went to his wife, saying, I crave thy mercy, for I intended to cut off thy hair, but I have cut off my own horse’s tail. Yea, said she, self do self have. Many men think to do a bad turn, but it turneth oft times to themselves.

TALE XIII.

A man of Gotham laid his wife a wager that she could not make him a cuckold. No! said she, but I can. Do not spare me, said he, but do what you can. On a time she had hid all the spigots and faucets, and going into the buttery, set a barrel of broach, and cried to her spouse, Pray, bring me a spigot and faucet, or else the ale will all run out. He sought up and down, but could not find one. Come here then, said she, and put thy finger in the tap-hole. Then she called a tailor with whom she made a bargain. Soon after she came to her husband, and brought a spigot and a faucet, saying, Pull thy finger out of the tap-hole, good cuckold. Beshrew your heart for your trouble, said she, make no such bargain with me again.

TALE XIV.

A man of Gotham took a young buzzard, and invited four or five gentlemen’s servants to the eating of it; but the wife killed an old goose, and she and two of her gossips ate up the buzzard, and the old goose was laid to the fire for the gentlemen’s servants. So when they came the goose was set before them. What is this? said one of them. The goodman said, a curious buzzard. A buzzard! why, it is an old goose, and thou art a knave to mock us, and so departed in great anger. The fellow was sorry that he had affronted them, and took a bag and put the buzzard’s feathers in it; but his wife desired him, before he went, to fetch a block of wood, and in the interim she pulled out the buzzard’s feathers, and put in the goose’s. The man, taking the bag, went to the gentlemen’s servants, and said, Pray, be not angry with me, you shall see I had a buzzard, for here be the feathers. Then he opened the bag, and took out the goose’s feathers; upon which one of them took a cudgel, and gave him a dozen of stripes, saying, Why, you knave, could you not be content to mock us at home, but you are come here to mock us also.

TALE XV.

A man’s wife of Gotham was brought to bed of a male child, and the father invited the gossips, who were children of eight or ten years of age. The eldest child’s name was Gilbert, the second’s name was Humphrey, and the godmother was called Christabel. Their relations admonished them divers times, that they must all say after the parson. And when they were come to church, the priest said, Be you all agreed of the name? Gilbert, Humphrey, and Christabel, said the same. The priest then said, Wherefore came you hither? They immediately said the same. The priest being amazed, could not tell what to say, but whistled and said Whey, and so did they. The priest being angry, said, Go home, you fools, go home. Then Gilbert, Humphrey, and Christabel, did the same. The priest then provided god-fathers and god-mothers himself.

TALE XVI.

A young man of Gotham went a wooing a fair maid: his mother warned him before-hand, saying, whenever you look at her, cast a sheep’s eye at her, and say, How dost thou my sweet Pigmy? The fellow went to a butcher and bought seven or eight sheep eyes. And when this lusty wooer was at dinner, he would look upon the fair wench, and cast in her face a sheep’s eye, saying, How dost thou do, my sweet Pigmy? How I do, said the wench; Swine’s face, what do you mean by casting a sheep’s eye at me? O! sweet Pigmy have at thee with another. I defy thee Swine’s face, said the wench, What my sweet old Pigmy, be content, for if you live till next year you will be a foul sow. Walk, knave, walk, said she, for if you live till next year you will be a fool.

TALE XVII.

There was a man of Gotham who would be married, and when the day of marriage was come, they went to church. The priest said, Do you say after me. The man said, Do you say after me. The priest said, Say not after me such like, but say what I shall tell you; thou dost play the fool to mock the holy Scriptures concerning matrimony. The fellow said, Thou dost play the fool to mock the holy Scriptures concerning matrimony. The priest wist not what to say, but answered, What shall I do with this fool? and the man said, What shall I do with this fool? So the priest took his leave, and would not marry them. The man was instructed by others how to do, and was afterwards married. And thus the breed of the Gothamites has been perpetuated even unto this day.

TALE XVIII.

There was a Scotsman who dwelt at Gotham, and he took a house a little distance from London, and turned it into an inn, and for his sign he would have a boar’s head, accordingly he went to a carver, and said, Can you make me a bare head? Yes, said the carver. Then said he, make me a bare head, and thou’se hae twenty shillings for thy hire. I will do it, said the carver, on St Andrew’s day, before Christmas, (called Yule in Scotland,) the Scot came to London for his boar’s head. I say, speak, said the Scotsman, hast thou made me a bare head? Yes, said the carver. He went and brought a man’s head of wood that was bare, and said, Sir, there is your bare head. Ay said the Scot the meikle de’il! is this a bare head! Yes, said the carver. I say, said the Scotsman, I will have a bare head like the head that follows a sow with gryces. What, whoreson, know you not a sow that will greet and groan and cry a-week, a-week. What, said the carver, do you mean a pig! Yes, said the Scotsman, let me have her head made of timber, and set on her a scalp, and let her sing--Whip whire. The carver said he could not. You whoreson, said he, gar her as she’d sing whip whire.

TALE XIX.

In old times, during these tales the wives of Gotham were got into an alehouse, and said they were all profitable to their husbands. Which way, good gossips! said the ale-wife. The first said, I will tell you all, good gossips I cannot brew nor bake, therefore I am every day alike, and go to the alehouse because I cannot go to church; and in the alehouse I pray to God to speed my husband, and I am sure my prayers will do him more good than my labour. Then said the second, I am profitable to my husband in saving of candle in winter, for I cause my husband and all my people to go to bed by day-light and rise by day-light. The third said, I am profitable in sparing bread, for I drink a gallon of ale, and I care not much for meat. The fourth said, I am loath to spend meat and drink at home, so I go to the tavern at Nottingham and drink wine, and such other things as God sends me there. The fifth said, A man will ever have more company in another’s house than his own, and most commonly in the ale-house. The sixth said, My husband has flax and wool to spare, if I go to other folk’s houses to do their work. The seventh said, I spare my husband’s wood and clothes, and sit all day talking at other folks’ fires. The eighth said, Beef, mutton, and pork are dear, I therefore take pigs, chickens, conies, and capons, being of a lesser price. The ninth said, I spare my husband’s soap, for instead of washing once a week, I wash but once a quarter. Then said the ale-wife, I keep all my husband’s ale from souring; for as I was wont to drink it almost up, now I never leave a drop.

TALE XX.

On Ash Wednesday, the minister of Gotham would have a collection from his parishioners, and said unto them, My friends, the time is come that you must use prayer, fasting, and alms, but come ye to shrift, I will tell you more of my mind. But as for prayer, I don’t think that two men in the parish can say their Paternoster. As for fasting, ye fast still, for ye have not a good meal’s meat in the year. As for alm-deeds, what should they give that have nothing? In Lent you must refrain from drunkenness and abstain from drink. No not so, said one fellow, for it is an old proverb, that fish should swim. Yes, said the priest, they must swim in the water. I crave thy mercy, quoth the fellow, I thought it should have swam in fine ale, for I have been told so. Soon after the men of Gotham came to shrift and being seven, the priest knew not what penance to give. He said, if I enjoin you to pray, you cannot say your Paternoster. And it is but folly to make you fast, because you never eat a meal’s meat. Labour hard and get a dinner on Sunday, and I will partake of it. Another man he enjoined to fare well on Monday, and another on Tuesday, and another on Wednesday, and so on one after another, that one or other should fare well once in the week that he might have part of their meat, on every day during the week. And as for your alm-deeds, the priest said, ye be but beggars all, except one or two, therefore bestow your alms on yourselves.

FINIS.

THE

LIFE OF

MANSIE WAUCH

TAILOR IN DALKEITH.

For a tailor is a man, a man, a man, And a tailor is a man.

GLASGOW; PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS

THE LIFE OF

MANSIE WAUCH.

I was born during the night of the 15th of October, 1765, in that little house, standing by itself, not many yards from the eastmost side of the Flesh-Market Gate, Dalkeith. Long was it spoken about that something mysterious would happen on that dreary night; as the cat, after washing her face, gaed mewing about, with her tail sweeing behind her like a ramrod; and a corbie, from the Duke’s woods, tumbled down Jamie Elder’s lum, when he had set the little still a-going--giving them a terrable fright, as they took it for the deevil and then for an exciseman--and fell with a great cloud of soot, and a loud skraigh, into the empty kail-pot.

The first thing that I have any clear memory of, was my being carried out on my auntie’s shoulder, with a leather cap tied under my chin, to see the Fair Race. Oh! but it was a grand sight! I have read since then, the story of Aladdin’s Wonderful Lamp, but this beat it all to sticks. There was a long row of tables, covered with carpets of bonny patterns, heaped from one end to the other with shoes of every kind and size, some with polished soles, and some glittering with sparribles and cuddyheels; and little red worsted boots for bairns, with blue and white edgings, hinging like strings of flowers up the posts at each end;--and then what a collection of luggies! the whole meal in the market sacks on a Thursday did not seem able to fill them: and horn spoons, green and black freckled, with shanks clear as amber,--and timber caups,--and ivory egg-cups of every pattern. Have a care of us! all the eggs in Smeaton dairy might have found resting places for their doups in a row. As for the gingerbread, I shall not attempt a discription. Sixpenny and shilling cakes, in paper, tied with skinie; and roundabouts, and snaps, brown and white quality, and parliaments, on stands covered with calendered linen, clean from the fold. To pass it was just impossible; it set my teeth a-watering, and I skirled like mad, until I had a gilded lady thurst into my little nieve; the which after admiring for a minute, I applied my teeth to and of the head I made no bones: so that in less than no time, she had vanished, petticoats and all, no trace of her being to the fore, save and except long treacly daubs, extending east and west from ear to ear, and north and south from cape nep of the nose to the extremity of beardyland.

But what, of all things, attracted my attention on that memorable day, was the show of cows, sheep and horses, mooing, baaing, and neighering; and the race--that was best! Od, what a sight!--we were jammed in the crowd of auld wives, with their toys and shining ribbons; and carter lads, with their blue bonnets; and young wenches, carrying home their fairings in napkins, as muckle as would hold their teeth going for a month;--there scarcely could he muckle for love, when there was so much for the stomach;--and men with wooden legs, and brass virls at the end of them, playing on the fiddle,--and a bear that roared, and danced on its hind feet, with a muzzled mouth,--and Punch and Polly,--and puppie-shows and mair than I can tell,--when up came the horses to the starting-post. I shall never forget the bonny dresses of the riders. One had a napkin tied round his head, another had on a black velvet hunting-cap and his coat stripped O! but he was a brave lad and sorrow was the folks for him, when he fell off in taking ower sharp a turn, by which auld Pullen, the bell-ringer wha was holding the post was made to coup the creels. And the last was all life, as gleg as an eel. Up and down he went and up and down gaed the beast on its hind-legs and its fore-legs, funking like mad; yet tho’ he was not aboon thirteen, or fourteen at most, he did not cry out for help more than five or six times, but grippit at the mane with one hand and at the back of the saddle with the other, til, daft Robie, the hostler at the stables claught hold of the beast by the head, and off they set. The young birkie had neither hat nor shoon but he did not spare the stick; round and round they flew like daft. Ye would have thought their een would have loupen out, and loudly all the crowd were hurraing, when young hatless came up foremost, standing in the stirrups, the long stick between his teeth, and his white hair fleeing behind him in the wind like streamers on a frosty night.

CALF-LOVE.

Just after I was put to my ’prenticeship, having made free choice of the tailoring trade, I had a terrible stound of calf-love. Never shall I forget it. I was growing up, long and lank as a willow-wand, brawns to my legs there were none, as my trowsers of other years too visibly effected to show. The long yellow hair hung down, like a flax-wig, the length of my lantern jaws, which looked, notwithstanding my yapness and stiff appetite, as if eating and they had broken up acquaintanceship. My blue jacket seemed in the sleeves to have picket a quarrel with the wrists, and had retreated to a tait below the elbows. The haunch-buttons, on the contrary appeared to have taken a strong liking to the shoulders, a little below which they showed their tarnished brightness. At the middle of the back the tails terminated, leaving the well-worn rear of my corduroys, like a full moon seen through a dark haze. Oh! but I must have been a bonny lad.

My first flame was the minister’s lassie, Jess, a buxom and forward queen, two or three years older than myself. I used to sit looking at her in the kirk, and felt a droll confusion when our een met. It dirled through my heart like a dart, and I looked down at my psalm-book sheepish and blushing. Fain would I have spoken to her, but it would not do; my courage aye failed me at the pinch, though she whiles gave me a smile when she passed me. She used to go to the well every night with her twa stoups, to draw water after the manner of the Israelites at gloaming; so I thought of watching to give her the two apples which I had carried in my pouch for more than a week for that purpose. How she laughed when I stappit them into her hand, and brushed by without speaking? I stood at the bottom of the close listening, and heard her laughing till she was like to split. My heart flap flappit in my breast like a pair of fanners. It was a moment of heavenly hope; but I saw Jamie Coom, the blacksmith, who I aye jealoused was my rival, coming down to the well. I saw her give him one of the apples: and hearing him say with a loud gaffaw, “Where is the tailor?” I took to my heels, and never stopped till I found myself on the little stool by the fireside, and the hamely sound of my mother’s wheel bum-bumming in my lug, like a gentle lullaby.

Every noise I heard flustered me, but I calmed in time, though I went to my bed without my supper. When I was driving out the gaislings to the grass on the next morn, who was it my ill fate to meet but the blacksmith. “Ou, Mansie,” said Jamie Coom, “are ye gaun to take me for your best man? I hear you are to be cried in the kirk on Sunday?”

“Me!” answered I, shaking and staring.

“Yes!” said he, “Jess the minister’s maid told me last night, that you had been giving up your name at the manse. Ay, it’s ower true--for she showed me the apples ye gied her in a present. This is a bonny story, Mansie, my man, and you only at your ’prenticeship yet.”

Terror and despair had struck me dumb. I stood as still and as stiff as a web of buckram. My tongue was tied and I couldna contradict him. Jamie faulded his arms, and gaed away whistling, turning every now and then his sooty face over his shoulder, and mostly sticking his tune, as he could not keep his mouth screwed for laughing. What would I not have given to have laughed to!

There was no time to be lost; this was the Saturday. The next rising sun would shine on the Sabbath. Ah, what a case I was in I could mostly have drowned myself, had I not been frighted. What could I do? My love had vanished like lightning: but oh, I was in a terrible gliff! Instead of gundy, I sold my thrums to Mrs Walnut for a penny, with which I bought at the counter a sheet of paper and a pen; so that in the afternoon I wrote out a letter to the minister, telling him what I had been given to hear, and begging him, for the sake of mercy, not to believe Jess’s word, as I was not able to keep a wife, and as she was a leeing gipsy.

PUSHING MY FORTUNE.

The days of the years of my ’prenticeship having glided cannily over on the working board of my respected maister, James Hosey, where I sat working cross-legged like a busy bee, in the true spirit of industrious contentment, I found myself at the end of the seven year, so well instructed in the tailoring trade, to which I had paid a near-sighted attention, that, without more ado, I girt myself round about with a proud determination of at once cutting my mother’s apron string, and venturing to go without a hold. Thinks I to myself “faint heart never won fair lady;” so, taking my stick in my hand, I set out towards Edinburgh, as brave as a Hielander in search of a journeyman’s place. I may set it down to an especial providence, that I found one, on the very first day, to my heart’s content in by at the Grassmarket, where I stayed for the space of six calendar months.

Had it not been from a real sense of the duty I owed to my future employers, whomsoever they might be, in making myself a first-rate hand in the cutting, shaping, and sewing line, I would not have found courage in my breast to have helped me out through such a long and dreary time.

Never let us repine, howsomever, but consider that all is ordered for the best. The sons of the patriarch Jacob found out their brother Joseph in a foreign land, and where they least expected it: so it was here--even here where my heart was sickening unto death, from my daily and nightly thoughts being as bitter as gall--that I fell in with the greatest blessing of my life, Nanse Cromie!

In the flat below our workshop lived Mrs Whitterraick, the wife of Mr. Whitterraick, a dealer in hens and Hams in the poultry market, who coming from the Lauder neighbourhood had hired a bit wench of a lassie that was to follow them come the term. And who think ye should this lassie be, but Nanse Cromie, afterwards, in the course of a kind providence, the honoured wife of my bosom, and the mother of bonny Benjie.

In going up and down the stairs,--it being a common entry, ye observe--me may be going down with my every day hat on to my dinner, and she coming up, carrying a stoup of water, or half a-pound of pouthered butter on a plate, with a piece of paper thrown over it,--we frequently met half-way, and had to stand still to let one another pass. Nothing came of these forgetherings, howsomever, for a month or two, she being as shy and modest as she was bonny, with her clean demity short gown, and snow-white morning mutch, to say nothing of her cherry mou, and me unco douffie in making up to strangers. We could not help, nevertheless, to take aye a stoun look of each other in passing; and I was a gone man, bewitched out of my seven senses, falling from my claes, losing my stomach, and over the lugs in love, three weeks and some odd days before ever a single syllable passed between us.

If ever a man loved and loved like mad, it was me, Mansie Wauch,--and I take no shame in the confession; but, kenning it all in the course of nature, declared it openly and courageously in the face of the wide world. Let them laugh who like; honest folk, I pity them;--such know not the pleasures of virtuous affection. It is not in corrupted sinful hearts that the fire of true love can ever burn clear. Alas, and ohon orie! they lose the sweetest, completest, dearest, truest pleasure that this world has in store for its children. They know not the bliss to meet, that makes the embrace of separation bitter. They never dreamed the dreams that make awakening to the morning light unpleasant. They never felt the raptures that can dirl like darts through a man’s soul from a woman’s ee. They never tasted the honey that dwells on a woman’s lip, sweeter than yellow marygolds to the bee; or fretted under the fever of bliss that glows through the frame on pressing the hand of a suddenly met, and fluttering sweetheart. But tuts-tuts--hech-how! my day has long since past; and this is stuff to drop from the lips of an auld fool. Nevertheless, forgive me, friends: I cannot help all-powerful nature.

Nanse’s taste being like my own, we amused one another in abusing great cities: and it is curious how soon I learned to be up to trap--I mean in an honest way; for, when she said she was wearying the very heart out of her to be home again to Lauder, which, she said, was her native and the true land of Goshen, I spoke back to her by way of answer--“Nancy my dear,” says I, “believe me that the real land of Goshen is out at Dalkeith; and if ye’ll take up house wi’ me, and enter into a way of doing, I daursay in a while ye’ll come to think so too.”

What will you say there? Matters were by-and-by settled full tosh between us; and though the means of both parties were small, we were young, and able and willing to help one another. For two three days, I must confess, after Nanse, and me found ourselves in the comfortable situation of man and wife, I was a dowie and disponding, thinking we were to have a’ numerous small family and where work was to come from; but no sooner was my sign nailed up, with four iron haudfasts by Johnny Hammer, painted in black letters, on a blue ground, with a picture of a jacket on one side and a pair of shears on the other, and my shop door opened to the public with a wheen ready-made waistcoats, gallowses, leather-caps, and Kilmarnock cowls, hung up at the window, than business flowed in upon us in a perfect torrent. First one came in for his measure, and then another; a wife came in for a pair of red worsted boots for her bairn, but would not take them for they had not blue fringes. A bare-headed lassie, hoping to be hansel, threw down twopence, and asked tape at three yards a halfpenny. The minister sent an old black coat beneath his maid’s arm, prinned up in a towel, to get docked in the tails down into a jacket: which I trust I did to his entire satisfaction, making it fit to a hair. The Duke’s butler himself patronised me, by sending me a coat which was all hair powder and pomate, to get a new neck put to it.

No wonder than we attracted customers, for our sign was the prettiest ye ever saw, though the jacket was not just so neatly painted, as for some sand-blind creatures not to take it for a goose. I daresay there were fifty half-naked bairns glowring their een out of their heads at it, from morning till night: and, after they all were gone to their beds, both Nanse and me found ourselves so proud of our new situation in life, that we sliped out in the dark by ourselves, and had a prime look at it with a lantern.

MANSIE WAUCH’s FIRST AND LAST PLAY.

Mony a time and often had I heard of play-acting, and of players making themselves kings and queens, and saying a great many wonderful things; but I had never before an opportunity of making myself a witness to the truth of these hearsays. So Maister Glen, being as fu’ of nonsense, and as fain to have his curiosity gratified, we took upon us the stout resolution to gang our thegither, he offering to treat me, and I determined to run the risk of Maister Wiggie, our minister’s rebuke, for the transgression, hoping it would make na lasting impression on his mind, being for the first and only time. Folks shouldna at a’ times be ower scrupulous.

After paying our money at the door, never, while I live and breathe, will I forget, what we saw and heard that night; it just looks to me, by a’ the world, when I think on’t, like a fairy dream. The place was crowded to the ee, Maister Glen and me having nearly got our ribs dung in, before we fand a seat, and them behint were obliged to mount the back benches to get a sight. Right to the fore hand of us was a large green curtain, some five or six ells wide, a guid deal the waur of the wear, having seen service through two or three simmers, and just in the front of it were eight or ten penny candles, stuck in a board fastened to the ground, to let us see the players’ feet like, when they came on the stage, and even before they came on the stage, for the curtain being scrimpit in length, we saw legs and feet moving behind the scenes very neatly, while twa blind fiddlers, they had brought with them, played the bonniest ye ever heard. Odd, the very music was worth a sixpence of itsell.

The place, as I said before, was choke full, just to excess, so that ane could scarcely breathe. Indeed I never saw ony pairt sae crowded, not even at a tent-preaching, when Mr Roarer was giving his discourses on the building of Solomon’s Temple. We were obligated to have the windows opened for a mouthful of fresh air, the barn being as close as a baker’s oven, my neighbour and me fanning our red faces with our hats to keep us cool, and, though all were half stewed, we had the worst o’t, the toddy we had ta’en having fomented the blood of our bodies into a perfect fever.

Just at the time that the twa blind fiddlers were playing the Downfall of Paris, a hand-bell rang and up goes the green curtain, being hauled to the ceiling, as I observed wi’ the tail o’ my ee, by a birkie at the side, that had haud o’ a rope. So, on the music stopping and all becoming as still as that you might have heard a pin fall, in comes a decent old gentleman, at his leasure, weil powdered, wi’ an auld-fashioned coat, and waistcoat wi’ flap pockets, brown breeches, with buckles at the knees, and silk stockings, with red gushets on a blue ground. I never saw a man in sic distress; he stampit about, and better stampit about, dadding the end of his staff on the ground, and emploring all the powers of heaven and yearth to help him to find out his run-awa’ daughter, that had decampit wi’ some neerdowell loon of a halfpay captain, that keppit her in his arms frae her bed-room window, up twa pair o’ stairs. Every father and head of a family maun hae felt for a man in his situation, thus to be rubbit of his dear bairn, and an only daughter too, as he tell’t us ower and ower again, as the saut tears ran gushing down his withered face, and he aye blew his nose on his clean callendered pocket napkin. But, ye ken, the thing was absurd to suppose, that we should ken ony thing about the matter, having never seen either him or his daughter between the een afore, and no kenning them by head mark; so, though we sympathised with him, as folks ought to do with a fellow-creature in affliction, we thought it best to haud our tongues, to see what might cast up better than he expected. So out he gaed stamping at the ither side, determined, he said, to find them out, though he should follow them to the world’s end, Johnny Groat’s House, or something to that effect.

Hardly was his back turned, and amaist before ye could cry Jack Robinson, in comes the birkie and the very young leddy the auld gentleman described, arm and arm thegether, smoodging and lauching like daft. Dog on it, it was a shameless piece of business. As true as death, before all the crowd of folk, he pat his arm round her waist, and caad her his sweetheart, and love, and dearie, and darling, and every thing that is sweet. If they had been courting in a closs thegether, on a Friday night, they couldna hae said mair to ane anither, or gaen greater lengths. I thought sic shame to be an eewitness to sic on-goings, that I was obliged at last to haud up my hat afore my face and look down, though, for a’ that, the young lad, to be sic a blackguard as his conduct showed, was weil enough faured and had a guid coat on his back, wi’ double-gilt buttons, and fashionable lapells, to say little o’ a very weil-made pair of buckskins, a lettle the waur o’ the wear to be sure, but which, if they had been cleaned, would hae looked amaist as good as new. How they had come, we never could learn, as we neither saw chaise nor gig; but, from his having spurs on his boots, it is mair than likely that they had lighted at the back door of the barn frae a horse, she riding on a pad behint him, may be with her hand round his waist.

The faither lookit to be a rich auld bool, baith from his manner of speaking, and the rewards he seemed to offer for the apprehension of his daughter; but, to be sure, when so many of us were present that had an equall right to the spulzie, it wad na be a great deal a thousand pounds when divided, still it was worth the looking after; so we just bidit a wee.

Things were brought to a bearing, whosoever, sooner than either themsells, I daur say, or onybody else present seemed to hae the least glimpse of; for just in the middle of their fine going-on, the sound of a coming fit was heard, and the lassie taking guilt to her, cried out, “Hide me, hide me, for the sake of gudeness, for yonder comes my old father!”

Nae sooner said than done. In he stappit her into a closet; and, after shutting the door on her, he sat down upon a chair, pretending to be asleep in a moment. The auld faither came bouncing in, and seeing the fellow as sound as a tap, he ran forrit and gaed him sich a shake, as if he wad hae shooken him a’ sundry, which sune made him open his een as fast as he had steekit them. After blackguarding the chield at no allowance, cursing him up hill and down dale, and caaing him every name but a gentleman, he haddit his staff ower his crown, and gripping him by the cuff o’ the neck, askit him what he had made o’ his daughter. Never since I was born did I ever see sich brazen-faced impudence! The rascal had the brass to say at ance, that he hadna seen word or wittens o’ his daughter for a month, though mair than a hundred folk sitting in his company had seen him dauting her with his arm round her jimpy waist, not five minutes before. As a man, as a father, as an elder of our kirk, my corruption was raised, for I aye hated leeing, as a puir cowardly sin, and an inbreak on the ten commandments: and I fand my neebour Mr Glen, fidgetting on the seat as weel as me; so I thocht, that whaever spoke first wad hae the best right to be entitled to the reward; whereupon, just as he was in the act of rising up, I took the word out of his mouth, saying, “Dinna believe him, auld gentleman, dinna believe him, friend; he’s telling a parcel of lees. Never saw her for a month! It’s no worth arguing, or caaing witnesses; just open that press door, and ye’ll see whether I’m speaking truth or no.”

The auld man stared, and lookit dumb-foundered: and the young man, instead of rinning forrit wi’ his double nieves to strike me, the only thing I was feared for, began a laughing, as if I had dune him a gude turn. But never since I had a being, did I ever witness an uproar and noise as immediately took place. The haill house was sae glad that the scoundrel had been exposed, that they set up siccan a roar o’ lauchter, and thumpit away at siccan a rate at the boards wi’ their feet, that at lang and last, wi’ pushing, and fidgetting, and hadding their sides, down fell the place they ca’ the gallery, a’ the folk in’t being hurled tapsy-turvy, head foremost amang the saw-dust on the floor below; their guffawing sune being turned to howling, ilka ane crying louder than anither at the tap of their voices, “Murder! murder! haud off me; murder! my ribs are in; murder! I’m killed--I’m speechless!” and ither lamentations to that effect; so that a rush to the door took place, in which everything was overturned--the door keeper being wheeled away like wildfire--the furms strampit to pieces--the lights knockit out--and the twa blind fiddlers dung head foremost ower the stage, the bass fiddle cracking like thunder at every bruise. Siccan tearing, and swearing, and tumbling, and squeeling, was never witnessed in the memory of man, sin the building of Babel; legs being likely to be broken, sides staved in, een knocked out, and lives lost; there being only ae door, and that a sma’ ane: so that when we had been carried off our feet that length, my wind was fairly gane, and a sick dwam cam ower me, lights of a’ manner of colours, red, blue, green, and orange dancing before me, that entirely deprived me o’ common sense, till, on opening my een in the dark, I fand mysell leaning wi’ my braid side against the wa’ on the opposite side of the close. It was some time before I mindit what had happened; so, dreading scaith, I fand first the ae arm, and then the ither, to see if they were broken--syne my head--and syne baith o’ my legs; but a’, as weel as I could discover, was skinhale and scart free. On perceiving which, my joy was without bounds, having a great notion that I had been killed on the spot. So I reached round my hand, very thankfully, to tak out my pocket-napkin, to gie my brow a wipe, when lo and behold the tail of my Sunday’s coat was fairly aff and away, dockit by the haunch buttons.

PHILISTINE IN THE COAL-HOLE.

It was about the month of March, in the year of grace anno domini eighteen hunder, that the haill country trummelled, like a man ill of the interminable fiver, under the consternation of Bonapartie, and all the French vagabonds emigrating ower, and landing in the firth. Keep us a’! the folk, dydit bodies, pat less confidence than became them in what our volunteer regiments were able and willing to do; though we had a remnant amang us of the true bluid, that with loud lauchter lauched the creatures to scorn, and I for ane, keepit up my pluck, like a true Hielander. Does ony leeving soul believe that Scotland could be conquered, and the like o’ us sold, like Egyptian slaves, into captivity? Fie, fie,--I could spit on siccan haevers. Are ye no descended, faither and son, frae Robert Bruce and Sir William Wallace, having the bright bluid of freemen in our veins and the Pentland hills, as weel as our ain dear hames and firesides, to fight for? The fief that wadna gie cut-and-thrust for his country, as lang as he had a breath to draw, or a leg to stand on, should be tied neck and heels, without benefit o’ clergy, and thrown ower Leith pier, to swim for his life like a mangy dog!

It was sometime in the blasty month of March, the weather being rawish and rainy, wi’ sharp frosty nights, that left all the window-soles white-washed ower with frost-rind in the morning, that, as I was going out in the dark, afore lying doun in my bed, to gie a look into the hen-house door, and lock the coal cellar, so that I might pit the bit key intil my breek pouches, I happened to gie a keek in, and, lo and behold, the awfu’ apparition of a man wi’ a yellow jacket, lying sound asleep on a great lump o’ parrot-coal in a corner.

In the hurry of my terror and surprise, at seeing a man with a yellow jacket, and a blue foraging-cap in such a situation, I was like to drap the guid two-penny candle, and feint clean away; but comming to mysell in a jiffy, I determined, in case it might be a high-way rubber, to thraw about the key, and, rinning up for the firelock, shoot him through the head instantly, if found necessary. In turning round the key, the lock being in want of a feather o’ oil, made a noise, and waukened the puir wretch, who jumping to the soles of his feet in despair, cried out in a voice that was like to break my heart, though I coudna make out ae word of his paraphernally. It minded me, by a’ the world, of a wheen cats fuffing and feighting through ither, and whiles something that sounded like “Sugar, sugar, measure the cord,” and “dabble, dabble.” It was waur than the maist outrageous Gaelic ever spoken in the height o’ passion by a Hieland shearer.

‘Oho!’ thinks I, ‘friend, ye cannot be a Christian from your lingo, that’s one thing poz; and I would wager tippence you’re a Frenchy. Who kens keep us all, but ye may be Bonaparte himself in disguise, come over in a flat-bottomed boat, to spy the nakedness of the land. So ye may just rest content, and keep your quarters good till the morn’s morning.’

It was a wonderful business, and enough to happen to a man, in the course of his lifetime, to find Mounseer from Paris in his coal-neuk, and have the enemy of his country snug under lock and key; so, while he kept rampaging, fuffing, stamping, and diabbling away, I went in, and brought out Benjie with a blanket rowed round him, and my journeyman, Tommy Bodkin,--who being an orphan, I made a kind of parlour boarder of, be sleeping on a shake-down beyond the kitchen fire--to hold a consultation, and be witness of the transaction.

I got my musket, and Tommy Bodkin armed himself with the goose, a deadly weapon, whoever may get a clour with it, and Benjie took the poker in one hand and the tongs in the other; and out we all marched briskly, to make the Frenchman, that was locked up from the light of day in the coal house surrender. After hearkening at the door for a while, and finding all quiet, he gave a knock to rouse him up, and see if we could bring anything out of him by speering him cross-questions. Tammy and Benjie trembled from top to toe, like aspen leaves, but fient a word could we make common sense of it all. I wonder wha edicates thae foreign creatures? it was in vain to follow him, for he just gab, gabbled away like ane o’ the stone-masons at the tower of Babel. At first I was completely bamboozled, and amaist dung stupid, though I kent a word of French which I wantit to pit till him, so I cried through, “Canna you speak Frencha, Mounseer?”

He hadna the politeness to stop and mak answer, but just gaed on wi’ his string of havers, without either rhyme or reason, which we could mak neither tap, tail, nor main o’.

It was a sair trial to us a’, putting us to our wits end, and hoo to come on was past all visible comprehension; when Tammy Bodkin gieing his elbow a claw said, “Odd maister, I wager something that he’s broken loose frae Pennycuick. We have him like a rotten in a fa.” On Pennycuick being mentioned we heard the foreign crature in the coal house groaning out, ‘och’ and ‘ohone,’ and ‘parbleu,’ and ‘Mysie Rabbie,’--that I fancy was his sweetheart at hame, sum bit French queen that wondered he was never like to come frae the wars and marry her. I thocht on this, for his voice was mournfu’, though I couldna understand the words; and kenning he was a stranger in a far land, my bowels yearned within me with compassion towards him.

I wad hae gien half-a-crown, at that blessed moment, to hae been able to wash my hands free o’ him; but I swithered, and was like the cuddie between the twa bundles of hay. At lang and last a thocht struck me, which was to gie the deluded simple cratur a chance of escape; reckoning that if he fand his way hame, he wad see the shame and folly of feighting against us ony mair; and, marrying Maysie Rabbie, live a contented and peacefu’ life under his ain feg and bey tree. So, wishing him a sound sleep, I cried through the door,--“Mounseer, gooda nighta;” decoying away Benjie and Tammy Bodkin into the house, and dispatching them to their beds like lamp-lighters, bidding them never, fash their thumbs, but sleep like taps, as I would keep a sharp look-out till morning.

As soon, hoosomever, as I fand a’ things snug, I slippit awa to the coal hole, and gien the key a canny turn in the lock, I went to my bed beside Nanse.

At the dawn o’ day, by cock-craw, Benjie and Tammy Bodkin, keen o’ the ploy, were up and astir as anxious as if their life depended on it, to see that all was safe and snug, and that the prisoner hadna shot the lock. They agreed to march sentry over him, half an hour the piece, time about, the ane stretching himsell out on a stool beside the kitchen fire, by way of a bench in the guard-house, while the other gaed to and fro like the ticker of a clock.

The back window being up a jink, I heard the twa confabbing. ‘We’ll draw cuts,’ said Benjie, ‘which is to walk sentry first; see, here’s twa straes, the langest gets the choice,’ ‘I’ve won,’ cried Tammy, ‘so gang you in a while, and if I need ye, or grow frightened, I’ll beat leather-ty-patch wi’ my knuckles on the back door. But we had better see first what he is about, for he may be howking a hole through aneath the foundations; thae fiefs can work like moudiewards.’--‘I’ll slip forrit,’ said Benjie, ‘and gie a peep,’--‘Keep to a side,’ cried Tammy Bodkin, ‘for, dog on it, Moosey’ll maybe hae a pistol;--and, if his birse be up, he would think nae mair o’ shooting ye as dead as a mawkin than I would do of taking my breakfast.’

‘I’ll rin past, and gie a knock at the door wi’ the poker to rouse him up?’ askit Benjie.

‘Come away then,’ answered Tammie, ‘and ye’ll hear him gie a yowl, and commence gabbling like a goose.’

As all this was going on, I rose and took a vizzy between the chinks of the window-shutters; so, just as I got my neb to the hole, I saw Benjie, as he flew past, give the door a drive. His consternation, on finding it flee half open, may be easier imagined than described, for, expecting the Frenchman to bounce out like a roaring lion, they hurried like mad into the house, couping the creels ower ane anither, Tammie spraining his thumb against the back door, and Benjie’s foot going into Tammie’s coat pocket, which it carried away with it, like a cloth sandal; what became o’ the French vagrant is a matter o’ surmise,--nae mortal kens.

FINIS.

THE

WHOLE PROCEEDINGS

OF

JOCKY AND MAGGY’S

COURTSHIP,

WITH

THE GREAT DIVERSION THAT ENSUED AT THEIR BEDDING.

IN THREE PARTS.

GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE

WHOLE PROCEEDINGS

OF

JOCKEY AND MAGGY’S

COURTSHIP.