PART III.

_Tom._ Well Paddy, 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, Paddy, 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 Paddy, and what do they make of all these things?

_Teag._ Then Tom, since you are so inquisitive, you must go ask the Priest.

_Tom._ What did you make of your children Paddy?

_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._ I fancy, Paddy, you came 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 big a city as any market-town in all England, where I got myself aboard of a little young boat, with a parcel of fellows, and a long leather bag. I supposed them to be tinklers, 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 waked 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 boat, with the fellows that carries over the English meal from the Irish milns.

_Tom._ O then Paddy, I am sure you 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._ 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 take 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 the lock of the leather sack to get a lick of their meal; but allelieu, dear shoy, I found neither meal nor seeds, but a parcel of papers and letters--a poor morsel for a hungry man.

_Tom._ O then Paddy you laid down your honesty for nothing.

_Teag._ Ay, ay, I was a great thief but got nothing to steal.

_Tom._ And how did you get victuals at last?

_Teag._ Allelieu, dear honey, the thoughts of meat and drink, death and life, and every thing else was out of mind, I had not a thought but one.

_Tom._ And what was that Paddy?

_Teag._ To go down among the fishes and become a whale; then I would have lived at ease all my days, having nothing to do but to drink salt water, and eat caller oysters.

_Tom._ What 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 safe on shore, and not one of us drowned at all.

_Tom._ 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 the 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 Paddy?

_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, Paddy, 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 flee, 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, Paddy, 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 flerry 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._ 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 were very sore by reason of the hardness of my feet, and lameness of my brogues, so I went but very slowly across 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 body, for I had not a good shirt.

_Tom._ I am sure then, Paddy, 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 behind, but I wondered how the people knew my name and where I came from: for every one told another, that was Paddy from Cork: I suppose they knew my face by seeing my name in the newspapers.

_Tom._ Well, Paddy, what business did you follow in Chester?

_Teag._ To be sure I was not idle, working at nothing at all, till a decruiting seargeant 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 streets, as if they were going to be married. I saw them courting none but young men; so to bring myself to no preferment at all, I listed for a soldier,--I was too big for a grandedeer.

_Tom._ What listing money did you get, Paddy?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I got five thirteens and a pair of English brogues; the guinea and the rest of the gold was sent 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 Paddy: 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, Paddy?

_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, his face is all bored in 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 you meet him again: 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 reads 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, sir, 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 of 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 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 Paddy, how did you end the matter?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, by the nights of shaint Patrick and help of my brogues, I both ended it, and mended it, for the next night before that, I gave them leg bail for my fidelity, and went about the country a fortune-teller, dumb and deaf as I was not.

_Tom._ How old was you Paddy when you was a soldier last?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I was three dozen all but two, and it is only 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 warrant you.

_Tom._ O but Paddy, 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, Paddy, of what profession art thou?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, my religion was too weighty a matter to carry out of mine own country: I was afraid that you English Presbyterians should pluck it away from me.

_Tom._ What, Paddy, was your religion such a load that you could not carry it along with you?

_Teag._ 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?

_Teag._ Why I adored the cross, the pope, and the priest, cursed Oliver as black as 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, Paddy?

_Teag._ 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, Paddy?

_Teag._ Because they have liberty to eat flesh in lent, and every thing that’s fit for the belly.

_Tom._ What, Paddy, are you such a lover of flesh that you would change your profession for it?

_Teag._ O yes, that’s what I would, 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 bulls’ bastards, and sheep’s young children.

_Tom._ Why Paddy, do you say the bull is a fornicator and gets bastards?

_Teag._ 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._ What reward will you get when you are dead, for punishing your belly so while you are alive?

_Teag._ By shaint Patrick I’ll live like a king when I’m dead, for I will neither pay for meat nor drink.

_Tom._ What, Paddy, do you think that you are to come alive again when you are dead?

_Teag._ O yes, we that are true Roman Catholics 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 priest give you of that?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, our priest is a great shaint, a good shoul, who can repeat a pater-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?

_Teag._ 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 what money design you to give the priest for your pardon?

_Teag._ 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?

_Teag._ 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’ll never be killed, hanged 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?

_Teag._ 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?

_Teag._ Dear shoy, you know little about it, for there is none can enter 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 for 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?

_Teag._ O my dear, we are all kept there untill a general review, which is commonly once in the week; and then we are drawn up like as many young recruits, and all the blackguard scoundrels is pict 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 Patricks table, and them that is owing the priests any money is put in the black-hole, and then given to the hands of a great black bitch of a devil, which is keeped for a hangman, who whips them up and down the smoky dungeon every morning for six months.

_Tom._ Well Paddy, are you to do as much justice to a Protestant as a Papist?

_Teag._ O my dear shoy, the most justice we are commanded to do 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?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I am a mountain sailor and my supplication is as follows.

PADDY’S HUMBLE PETITION, OR SUPPLICATION.

Good Christian people, behold me a man! who has com’d through 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 biscuit. And now I have nothing: being taken by the Turks and relieved by the Spaniards, lay sixty-six days at the siege of Gibralter, and got nothing to eat but sea wreck and raw mussels; put to sea for our safety, cast upon the Barbarian coast, among the wicked Algerines, where we were taken and tied with tugs and tadders, horse-locks, and cow-chains: then cut and castrate yard and testicle quite away, 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 desart wild wilderness of Arabia; where we lived among the wild asses, upon wind, sand, and sapless ling. Afterwards put to sea in the hull of an old house, where we were tossed above and below the clouds, being driven through thickets and groves by fierce, coarse, calm, and contrary winds: at last, was cast upon Salisbury plains, where our vessel was dashed 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 biscuit, 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 half-pence 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.

FUN UPON FUN:

OR

LEPER,

THE TAILOR.

IN TWO PARTS,

WITH A

Selection of Entertaining Anecdotes.

GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.

THE MERRY TRICKS

OF

LEPER THE TAILOR.

Leper’s father lived in a village about six miles from Glasgow, and died when he was but very young; he left a widow and three children, two daughters and a son; Leper being the youngest, was greatly idolized by his mother, who was a good soft-natured woman, very industrious, and followed the bleaching of cloth.

As Leper grew up he grew a very mischievous boy, playing many tricks on the neighbourhood, such as tying cats to dogs tails, breaking hens legs, stopping peoples lums, or chimney-tops; so that his poor mother was sadly vexed with complaints against him.

To get him kept from mischief, she prevailed with a Tailor to take him an apprentice; he settled, and was very peaceable for some time, until he got as much of his trade on his finger ends as he might pass for a journeyman, and then he was indifferent whether he staid with his master or not; his mistress gave him but very little meat when he wrought at home, so he liked best to be in other houses, where he got meat and diversion.

Leper being resolved on revenge against his mistress for her thin kail, no kitchen, and little bread; for though flesh was boiled in the pot none for poor Leper and his master, but a little bit on Sundays, and all the bones were kept and put in the pot, to make the broth through the week. Leper perceived always when she took of the pot, she turned her back and took out the flesh, and set it on a shelf in her own bed-room; one night after work, he steals out a pan, cuts a piece of flesh out of a dead horse, and 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 of 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 wishing to see you, to go directly and speak to her mistress. Off she goes in all haste, Leper runs and takes away her bits of good meat, and lays down his horse flesh; and knowing she would return in a passion, and sit down with a soss in her cushion chair, as she used, he takes a large pin, and staps it straight through the cushion with its head on the chair and the point to her backside. So in she comes in a rage, and down she sits with all her weight on the pin point, and she roars out murder! murder! for she was sticket in the a--e: the neighbours came running in, and Leper went 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 accidently, but the houdie was very oft to be had before it was got hale again; and his landlady by eating of the horse beef, took such a loathing at flesh, that Leper and his master got all the beef ever after, and his landlady turned one of the kindest mistresses a prentice could wish for.

There was a neighbour wife on whom Leper used to play tricks sometimes, for which she came and complained to his master and had him severely beaten several times, Leper resolved to be revenged on her, so one night he came to the backside of the house, (no one being in but herself) and took up a big stone, and runs along the rough wall with all his strength, which roared like thunder in the inside of the house, and frighted the wife so, that she thought the house was tumbling down about her ears, and she ran out and sat down at a distance, looking every minute when the house would fall down, till her husband came home and persuaded her to go in, to whom she told the above story; ‘hout tout, daft tapie,’ said he, ‘the house will stand these hundred years.’ Leper knowing they were both in, comes and plays the same trick over again, which also frightened the goodman so much, that he cried out--‘run Maggy, run, for my heart plays 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 cur 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 hung on 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 fire! wonderful fire! the devil is ringing the bell.’ When they saw the black colly hang at the rope, I trow it set the minister and all the people to their prayers: but Leper fearing he would be detected by his garter, came to the minister’s side, and asked the reverend gentleman what was the matter; indeed my bairn, said he, ’tis the deil ringing the kirk bell; says Leper, I’ll go and see him, for I never saw the devil; the minister cried stop the mad laddie, but Leper ran and loosed the dog, crying it’s such a man’s dog, which had the rope in its teeth; they all cried out, ‘the deil’s i’ the cur, the deil’s i’ the dog,’ then took up stone and felled poor colley, and the devil got the blame of making the dog ring the bell.--This spread Leper’s fame, for being one of the wisest and most courageous tailors that was in all the kingdom; and many shaking their heads, said, ‘it was a pity he was a tailor, 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 deil frae being a bellman, sent for him to an alehouse, and drank with him very heartily, and told him he was sadly borne down by a spirit of jealousy against his wife; and a suspicion of her being too free with a servant lad he had before; and if he would keep it a secret and learn him to find it out, he would give his mother a load of meal, to which Leper agreed; so he gave the poor supposed cockold instructions how to behave. So home he goes, and feins himself 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 a crying, Aha! marry, she would never marry! no no there should never a man lie by my side, or kiss my lips, after thee, my ain dear lamb Johnny. Then he acts the dead man as well as he possibly could, the neighbours were called in, and he’s fairly o’erseen, as the old saying is, before good neighbours. The sorrowful widow made sad lament, wrung her hands and tore her hair.--The reverend women 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 o’ the kist, that nae body can wear, ony things good enough for the grave; well, said they, we must have some linen for a winding sheet, a weel, quo’ she, I ha’e twa cut o’ linen i’ the kist neuk, but there’s a pare o’ auld linen sheets, hol’d i’ the middle, may do well enough, I had need to be carefu’, I’m a poor widow the day, wi’ three sma’ bairns.

Well, the corpse is dressed, and laid on the tap of the big chest, while neighbours sat by her condoling her misfortune, and how the funeral raisins were to be provided, said one the coffin must need be seen about first. Ay ay, he has some new deals in the barn, he bought them to make a bed o’, but we’ll no break them, there’s the auld barn door, and the caff kist will do well enough, ony thing’s gude enough to gang to the grave wi’; but O quo’ 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 any thing wi’, he’s the lad that will not see me wrang’d; then Sandy comes wrying his face, and rubbing his eyes. O Sandy, there’s a sad alteration here, and ba-a she cries like a bitten calf, O sirs, will ye gang a’ butt the house till I tell ye what to do; butt they went, and there she fell a kissing of Sandy, and said, now, my dear, the auld chattering ghaist is awa and we’ll get our will o’ ither; be as haining of every thing as ye can, for thou kens it’s a’ thy ain; but the corpse’ sister and some other people coming in, ben they came to see the corpse, lifts up the cloth off his face, and seeing him all in a pour of sweat, said heigh he’s a bonny corp, and a lively like colour. When he could no longer contain himself to carry on the joke, but up he got among them, a deal of people ran for it, and his wife cried out, O my dear do you ken me? Ay you base jade and whore, better than ever I did. Jumps on the floor, gets his staff and runs after Sandy, and catches him in the fields, a little from the house;--ate and drank with his sister and neighbours who came to see his corpse, and poor Sandy went home with a skin full of terror, and a sorting of sore bones, took a sore fever and died a few days after, so he got quit of his cockolder, and Leper’s mother got her load of meal.

Leper’s mother was a careful industrious wife, but as the bye-word is, ‘a working mother makes a dally daughter,’ and so it happened here, for she had two gleakit sluts of daughters, that would do nothing but lie 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, who was bleaching some cloth, was very early at work in the mornings, and Leper’s patience being worn out with the laziness of his two sisters, he resolved to play a trick on them, for their reformation, so he goes and gets a mortcloth, and spread it on the bed above them, and sends the dead bell through the town, inviting the people next day at four o’clock afternoon to the burial of his two sisters, for they had died suddenly; this brought all the neighbouring wives in, who one after another lifted up the mortcloth, and said, with a sigh, they’ve gone to their rest, a sudden call indeed! Their aunt hearing of this sudden news, came running in all haste, and coming where the jades’ mither was at work, and was ignorant of the story, she cries out, Fye upon ye, woman, fye upon ye! What’s the matter, sister, says she, what’s the matter! I think you might let your wark stand for a’e day, when your daughters are baith lying corpse. My bairns corpse! I am certain they went to bed hale and fair last night. But I tell you, says the other, the dead bell has been thro’ warning the folks to the burial, then the mother cries out, O the villian! O the villian that he did not send me word.--So they both ran, and the mother as soon as she entered the house, flies to the bed, crying, O my bairns, my dear bairns; on which the sluts rose up in a consternation, to the great surprise of the beholders, and the great mortification of the girls, who thought shame to set their noses out of doors, and to the great diversion of the whole town.

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 sowns was to be put in. After she had taken her supper, as she was covering the table, the imnock powder began to operate, and she let a great f--: well done Margaret, said the Laird, your a-- would take a cautioner. Before she got out of the chamber door she let 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 herself, and there she played away her one gun battery so fast, that you would have thought she had been besieging 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 her place, to the great satisfaction of all her fellow servants.