Part 10

Havin got the weans oot, he advanced to the door, shut it, and, to prevent any unseasonable intrusion, locked it--at least he thocht he had done so, but the bolt had missed. Unaware o' this circumstance, he proceeded to his operations wi' a feelin o' perfect security. Havin gone into the room where the kirn was, he lifted the large stone by which the lid was kept down, and placed it on the floor. This done, he lifted the lid itsel, and next the clean white cloth which is usually thrown first on the mouth o' the vessel. These a' removed, the glorious substance appeared--thick, rich, and yellow. The glutton gazed on it a moment with a rapturous eye; but there was no time to be lost. He had provided himsel wi' a small tin jug. This he now dipped into the delicious semi-fluid mass, raised it to his lips, and quaffed it aff as fast as its consistency would admit. Again he dipped and again he swilled; and to make everything as comfortable as possible, he next drew a chair to the kirn, sat down on it, stretched out his legs, and in this luxurious and deliberate attitude proceeded wi' his debauch. While in the act o' pourin down his throat the fifth or sixth jug, wi' his head thrown back, his eye--though half closed, from an overpowerin sense o' enjoyment--caught a glimpse o' a castle o' cakes and a plate filled wi' rolls o' fresh butter, that stood on the upper shelf o' a cupboard fastened high upon the wa' in ane o' the corners o' the apartment. The sight was temptin; for he felt at that moment somewhat hungry, and he thocht, besides, the cakes and butter would eat delightfully wi' the cream--and there is little doot they would. Filled wi' this new idea, he rose frae his chair and approached the cupboard wi' the intention o' sackin it; but it was owre high for him. (He was a very little man.) This, however, he was perfectly aware o'. So he took a stool in his hand, placed it, and mounted; but was still several inches from the mark. Findin this, he descended, put anither stool on the top o' the first, and, on again mountin, found himself just barely within reach o' the prize. By seizin, however, a fast hold o' ane o' the shelves o' the cupboard by one hand, he found he could raise himsel up sufficiently high to accomplish the purposed robbery wi' the ither. Discoverin this, he grasped the shelf, and was just in the act o' raisin himsel up by its means, when the stool on which he was standin (he had stood owre near the end o't) suddenly canted up, and left him suspended to the cupboard shelf; for he held on like grim death, kickin and spurrin awa in a vain attempt to recover his footin. This was a state o' things that couldna continue lang; either he must come doun himsel, or the cupboard must come doun alang wi' him--and the latter was the upshot. Doun cam the cupboard; wi' everything that was in it--and it was filled wi' cheeny and crystal--smash on the floor wi' a dreadfu crash, and Tam below it. There wasna a hail glass, cup, or plate left; and the rows o' butter were rollin in a' directions through the floor. Here was a pretty business; and the puir culprit knew it. Cantin awa the cupboard frae aboon him, he slowly rose (for he was not at all much hurt) to his feet, infinitely mair distressed wi' fear for his wife's vengeance than wi' regret for his ain loss. At this instant--that is, just as he had gained his feet, and was lookin ruefully doun on the wreck he had occasioned--ane o' his bairns cam runnin to the door, and bawled out the delightfu intelligence--

"Faither, my mother's comin!"

The horrible announcement roused him from his reverie, and instantly put him on the alert. He had presence o' mind aneugh left to recollect that the cupboard wasna a' he had to answer for. There was the kirn, which, in its present denuded state, told an ugly tale. He flew to remedy this. He snatched up the towel, spread it over the mouth o't, lifted the huge stone with which all had been secured, dashed it down--on what? on the lid? No, in his hurry and confusion he forgot the lid;--on the towel--and doun went towel and stone into the kirn, and the latter with such force as fairly knocked out the bottom, and sent the whole contents streamin owre the floor. At this particularly felicitous moment, his wife entered the outer door, when the first thing she met was the colly dog wi' a row o' the fresh butter in his mouth. In ordinary circumstances, this wad hae been a provokin aneugh sicht to her, but a glimpse at the same instant o' the dreadfu ruin within made it appear but a sma' matter indeed. On enterin on the scene o' devastation, she fand the culprit standin almost senseless and speechless wi' terror and horror, and every other stupifyin feelin that can be named, in the middle o' the ruins he had created, and up to the shoe-mouth in cream.

"An awfu business this, Maggy," he said, in a sepulchral voice. It was a' he got leave to say; for, in the next moment, he was felled wi' the stroke o' a besom; and when he resumed his feet, which he did almost instantly, he took to his heels, and didna venture hame again till wife and weans were a' lang in their beds. Tam ne'er touched the kirn after this.

"And here," said the narrator, "ends my story o' Tam Brodie and the kirn."

"And a very guid ane it is," rejoined the landlord, taking off a cold half-glass of punch that stood before him. "I ken Tam o' the Broomhouse as weel as I ken ony ane here, and it's just as like him as can be. William," added mine host, now turning and addressing another member of the company--a quiet, mild-looking man, whom one could not, _a priori_, have suspected of being a joker--"that's nearly as guid a ane as the Blue Bonnet. Do ye mind that story? William shook his head and smiled.

"I mind it weel aneugh," he replied; "but it was rather a serious affair--at least it micht hae been sae--and I'm no fond o' recollectin 't."

"Nonsense, man; nae harm cam o't," said the other; "and it was harmlessly meant."

"But it micht hae been a bad business," said William.

"But it _wasna_," said mine host; "and, as I dinna believe there's ane here that ever heard the story, I wish ye wad let me tell it."

"It's no worth tellin," said the other.

"I'll tak my chance o' that," replied the landlord; "if it's counted worthless, I'll tak the wyte o't. Do ye gie me leave?"

"A wilfu man maun hae his ain way--do as you like," rejoined William Brydon, affectin a chariness he did not altogether feel.

Thus regularly licensed, the narrator began:--

About twa or three years syne, there used to come about this house o' mine a wee bit whupper-snapper body o' an English bagman. An impudent, upsettin brat he was, although no muckle higher than that table. The favourite theme o' this wee ill-tongued rascal--for he had a vile ane--was abusin Scotland, and a' that war in't, for a parcel o' sneakin, hungry, beggarly loons. This was his constant talk wherever he was, and whaever he micht be amang. I didna mind him mysel; for the cratur wasna a bad customer, and he was, besides, such a wretched-lookin body--I mean as to size and figure, for he was aye weel aneugh put on--that puttin a haun to him was oot o' the question. Ye couldna hae blawn upon him, but ye wad hae been in for murder, or culpable homicide at the very least. But, although I keepit a calm sough wi' him, and didna mind his abusive jabberin, it wasna sae wi' everybody; and there was nane bore it waur than oor freend William Brydon here, wha aften forgathered wi' him in this hoose. William couldna endure the cratur, and mony a sair wrangle they had wi' the tongue; but the Englishman's was by far the glibber, though William's was the weightier. It chanced that William and the little gabby Englishman met here, both on their way to England, ae day sune after the execution o' the rebels in Carlisle--a time whan the Scots, as ye a' dootless ken, war in unco bad odour throughoot a' England, and especially in Carlisle, whar the feelin ran sae high that no person wearin ony piece o' dress which smelt in the least o' Scotland was safe in the streets. And wha was sae vindictive against the rascally rebels, as he ca'ed them, as our wee bagman? "Headin and hangin's owre guid for the villains," he wad say. "They should be roasted before a slow fire, like sae mony shouthers o' mutton." Oh, he had a bitter spite at them! It was aboot this time, as I said, that he and our freend here met in my hoose--and, as usual, they had a tremendous yokin; but it was, on this occasion, a' aboot the rebels; for this was the thing uppermost in the wee bagman's mind at the time. It was a grand catch for him, and he made the maist o't. In short, a' his abuse now took this particular direction.

Notwithstandin William and the bagman's constant quarrellin, and their mutual dislike o' each ither, they aye drank thegither whan they met, and whiles took guid scours o't, and lang sederunts; but it wasna for love, ye'll readily believe, they sat thegither: na, na, it was for the purpose o' gettin a guid worryin at ane anither; so that they may be said to hae sought each ither's company oot o' a kind o' lovin hatred to ane anither. In the afternoon o' which I'm speakin, the twa, as usual, drank and quarrelled; but I was surprised to find, towards the end o' their sederunt, that oor freend here, instead o' gettin angrier, as he used to do, as the contest drew towards a close, grew aye the calmer; and, what astonished me still mair, suddenly showed a strong disposition to curry favour wi' his antagonist, and actually so far succeeded, by dint o' soothin words, as to induce the bagman to extend the hand o' friendship and good-fellowship to him--swearin that William was, after all, a devilish good fellow, for a Scotchman. The bagman, however, was by this time pretty weel on by the head; and this micht hae had some share in producin this new-born kindness for the Scotchman. However this may be, being both anxious to get on to Carlisle that nicht, they agreed--such good freends had they thus suddenly become--to travel together. This settled, their horses were brought to the door. William's packs had been sent on before, and he had hired ane o' my horses to carry him unto Carlisle. Just as they were gaun oot the passage there, to the door to mount, William hings back a bit, lettin the bagman gang on before him, and whispers into my ear--

"I'll play that pockpuddin a pliskie yet. Hae ye such a thing as an auld broad bonnet aboot ye, that ye could lend me?"

Little dreamin what he was gaun to do with it, I replied I had; and runnin into the kitchen here, I took down frae a nail, ane that I used to wear when gaun aboot the garden, and gae it to him. William took it, rowed it up, and thrust it in his pocket, without sayin a word, and, in three minutes after, the twa war aff.

On arrivin within aboot a mile o' Carlisle, Willie proposed to the bagman that they should go into a public-house that was on the roadside, and hae something before they entered the toon, as they required to part a wee on this side o't--William having, he said, some sma' business to do aff the road. To this proposal the Englishman readily agreed, and in they gaed, leavin their horses at the door. Here William plied the bagman--nothing loth, for he was a drucken wee rascal--wi' brandy till he began to wink, and no to be perfectly certain which end o' him was uppermost. Havin reduced him to this condition, his freend proposed that they should be movin, when they both got up for that purpose.

"Where's my _'at_?" said the bagman, turnin round to look for the article he named.

"Here it's, man," said William, comin behind him, and clappin the bonnet on his head.

"Thank you, freend!" replied the bagman, generously believin that, as he felt _something_ put upon his head, it must be his hat; and thus theekit, he walked to the door, and mounted his horse, as grave and composed as if a' was richt, and rode aff wi' William alangside o' him. They hadna ridden far, however, when his friend, for obvious reasons, desirous o' bein quit o' his companion, said he was sorry that they maun now part, he requirin, as he told him before, to turn aff the road a bit. On this they shook hands and parted. The bagman hadna proceeded far wi' the notorious badge o' Scotland--the broad blue bonnet--on his head, till he found himsel, he could not conceive how, an object of marked attention to a' the passers-by. At length, as he approached the town, this attention became gradually more and more alarmin, and began at the same time to be accompanied by such symptoms as plainly evinced that it was not o' a pleasant character.

Popular notice, the bagman very weel saw, he had attained by some means or other; but he also saw as weel that this by no means meant popular admiration; for in every face that was turned towards him there was an angry scowl. Amazed and confounded at bein thus so strangely and disagreeably marked, the poor little Englishman looked first at his legs, and then at his horse, leanin forward for this purpose, and then examined his own outer man all over, to see if he could discern onything wrang wi' either, that micht account for his sudden elevation in the public mind; but he found nothing--a' was richt, and the little bagman was more perplexed than ever. He rode on, however--as what else could he do?--and at length entered the town. Here the general attention became still more strikingly marked: people stood on the streets and stared broadly at him; and, when he had passed, looked after him, and shook their heads. At length matters came to a crisis. This approached by occasional cries of "Doun wi' the rebel!" "Doun wi' the Scottish cut-throat!" "Hang the robber!" "Head him! head him!" If confounded before, the little bagman was now ten times more so. These terms could never apply to him, and yet they were most palpably directed to him. What on earth could it mean? To be taken, too, for a character which of all others he most abhorred. It was unaccountable--most extraordinary. In the meantime, both the cries and the crowd increased, till the latter at length fairly surrounded the little bagman and his horse, and peremptorily arrested his progress, still shoutin, but with greater ferocity, "Doun wi' the rebel!"

"Good people," said the perplexed and terrified cratur, "what do you mean? Hear me for a moment. I'm no rebel. I detest them as much as you can do. I am an Englishman--a born Englishman."

"Yes, when it suits your purpose, ye cowardly Scottish dog!" exclaimed one of the crowd, advancin towards him, and seizin him by a leg.

"We know you too well by your head-mark," said a second, bustlin forward to hae a share in forcibly dismounting the wee bagman; a measure which was now evidently contemplated, if not determined on, by the crowd.

"Yes, yes!" shouted a third, "he has the mark o' the beast on him. Doun wi' him! doun wi' him! He can't deny the blue bonnet. Doun wi' it, and the head that's in it!" Seein all eyes at this moment directed to that part o' his person where a hat should have been, the wee bagman instinctively clapped his hand on his head. It felt strange! There was no superstructure--all was bare and flat. He pulled aff the mysterious coverin, and beheld with horror and amazement a large, broad, Scottish blue bonnet, the size o' a cart wheel, with a red knob, like an overgrown cherry, in the centre o't.

"Ay, where got ye that? where got ye that?" exclaimed some one frae the crowd. But, though the question was put, no answer was permitted to the questioned. In the next instant he was on his back on the street, kickin and strugglin amongst the feet o' his assailants, who applied the latter to all parts o' his person wi' a rapidity and vigour o' execution that threatened, and certainly would hae extinguished, the wee life o' him, if he hadna been rescued a trifle on this side o't by a guard o' sodgers, whom the alarm had brought to the spot.

Battered, bruised, speechless, and his face streamin wi' blood, the unfortunate bit bagman was now conveyed to the guard-house, and from thence, after he had somewhat recovered, to prison, under the same suspicion which had procured him such rough treatment from the mob. So that, to appearance, as they werena very nice in thae times, he was saved frae a violent death only to be subjected to anither; frae bein kicked into the ither warld to be hanged; and o' this opinion the wee bagman was himsel for some time, for the authorities o' Carlisle war at that period excessively loyal, and wadna cared muckle to hae hanged him on chance. As it was, however, he was kept in jail for a week, when his innocence havin been so clearly established that the most loyal o' his judges couldna deny it, he was set at liberty--though wi' a grudge, for they wad still fain hae hanged him--and a caution never to wear a blue bonnet in Carlisle again.

"The wee bagman," added the landlord, "has never come this way since, and I fancy now never will. Come, freends," continued he, "shute in your glasses--the drink's gettin cauld; and," he said, edging the mouth of the bowl slopingly towards him, so as to afford him a view of its contents, "there's a gey drap in't yet." Then, with that forethought which was a very remarkable and praiseworthy trait in his character--"Betty," he cried out to a servant girl, "keep the kettle boilin."

His call for the glasses of his friends being promptly obeyed, they were as promptly re-filled, and it is but doing justice to the honest men assembled on this occasion to state, were as speedily emptied again. This done--

"Mr Gas," said Walter Gibson, one of the most extensive traders and most respectable men in the company--"Mr Gas," he said--for they all addressed him as their chairman--"these are a' queer aneugh stories in their way that hae been tell't the nicht; but I'm no sure if there's ony o' them better than the story o' Sandy M'Gill and his mither."

The landlord cocked his ears. "And what story's that, Watty?" he said. "I never heard it."

"It's no the waur o' that, however," said Watty, dryly.

"No a grain," replied the other, with one of his good-natured laughs; "but let us judge for oursels."

"I'll do that," quoth Walter; and he immediately began:--"Twa or three years ago, as ye a' ken, Lord Drumlanrig, son o' the Duke o' Queensberry, raised a regiment for what was ca'ed the Holland service. His lordship's headquarters durin the recruitin for the corps was Dumfries, where he used to beat up on the market days. Amongst those who were enlisted on ane o' thae occasions was a young lad o' the name o' Sandy M'Gill--a joiner to trade. Sandy was a handsome, good-lookin young man--very smart and clever, and possessed o' a good education; that is, he wrote and figured weel.

On the regiment being completed, it was embodied at Dunse, and then drilled for some time. It was then marched to Leith, Sandy M'Gill and a', where it was to be embarked for Amsterdam. Two days after the regiment had left Dunse, Lord Drumlanrig, mounted on horseback, and attended by a servant, also mounted, set out from Dumfries, to join his regiment at Leith, whence he meant to sail wi' it for Holland. On approachin the Nether Mill, his lordship was recognised, while yet at some distance, by an auld blacksmith o' the name o' William Thamson.

"There," said he to a bit lively, hardy-lookin auld wifie--it was Widow M'Gill--"there's Lord Drumlanrig comin forrit."

"Is that him?" quoth the auld wife; "feth and I maun speak to him then! He's taen awa my puir Sandy for a sodger."

And she ran into the middle o' the road, and, ere Lord Drumlanrig was aware, she had his horse by the bridle, exclaimin--

"Please yer lordship, ye maun stop and speak to me a wee. I hae something to say to ye."

"What is it, my good woman?" said his lordship, smilin good-naturedly; "but I'm in a great hurry, and you must not detain me a moment."

"What I want to speak to yer lordship aboot," replied Widow M'Gill, taking nae notice o' his lordship's impatience, "is this: ye hae taen awa my puir son, Sandy, for a sodger, and I'm like to brak my heart aboot him."

"There's nae guid reason for that in the world, my honest woman," said his lordship; "as he'll be better wi' me than lyin at hame here, scartin the porridge pots."

"I'm no sure o' that, my lord, unless ye look weel to him, and tak him under yer special care. Ye'll fin' him weel wordy o't; for, although I say it that sudna say it, he's a clever, weel-inclined lad."

"I've nae doot o't, honest woman, nae doot o't," said his lordship, now endeavourin to move on; "and, you may depend on't, I'll see that he gets every justice." And he made another attempt to get on.

"Na, na, my lord," said the widow, perceivin his efforts to get quit o' her, "I winna let ye gang that way--I hae something mair to say to ye yet; but, as I see a' the neebors glowrin at us, ye'll just come doon and step into the house wi' me a minute, and I'll tell ye there a' I hae to say."

"Really, really, my good woman," said his lordship, in great alarm at this threat o' further detention, "it is impossible--I cannot on any account--I am indeed in a great hurry, and exceedinly anxious to get forrit."

"Deil may care, my lord!--the deil a fit ye'll stir till ye come in wi' me a bit--on that I'm determined." And she took a still firmer haud o' the bridle.

"Some ither time, my guid woman," said his lordship, despairinly.

"Na, na, nae time like the present, my lord," replied the widow.

Seein now that, unless he had recourse to some violence--which it was neither his nature nor desire to hae--it was useless to contend wi' the resolute auld wife, his lordship dismounted, though, ye may believe, wi' a very bad grace, gave his horse to his servant to haud, and went in wi' Widow M'Gill to her little cot. On enterin the hoose, his lordship made anither desperate effort to prevail on the widow to shorten his detention.

"Now, my guid woman," he said, "let me beg o' you to say quickly what ye hae to say, for I really will not be detained."

"No twa minutes, no twa minutes, my lord," said the widow, dustin, wi' great activity, wi' her apron, a chair for his lordship to sit doun upon.

"No, no; I really will not sit doun," said his lordship, determinedly. "I'll hear what you hae to say standin."

"But ye _maun_ sit, my lord," replied the widow, wi' equal resolution. "A bonny thing it wad be, you to come into my house, and gang oot again withoot sittin doun. Na, na, that maunna be said. Doun, my lord, ye maun sit." And, seein that he wad only increase his ain delay by resistance, doun, to be sure, his lordship did sit. "Noo, my lord," says the widow, "I'm sure the deil a morsel o' breakfast ye hae gotten the day yet--for it's no aboon seven o'clock; sae ye'll just tak a mouthfu wi' me."

At this horrid proposal, his lordship sprang frae his chair--for he was noo fairly driven at bay--and made for the door; but the widow was as clever in the heels as he was. She sprang after him, and, before he could gain the door, had him fast by the tails o' the coat, exclaimin, as she pu'ed him back--

"Deil a fit o' ye, my lord, 's gaun oot o' this house, till ye taste my bread and cheese. Ise haud ye fast, I warrant."

Regardless o' her threats, his lordship still pressed for the door; but the stieve auld wife held on wi' a determined and nae feckless grip, and he couldna mak it oot, withoot efforts that micht do her an injury. Seein this, and seein, at the same time, the ludicrousness o' the struggle, his lordship at length gied in, and returned to his seat. In a twinklin the active auld wifie had a table before him, covered wi' bread, butter, and cheese, and a large jug o' sweet milk.

"Noo, my lord, see and tak a mouthfu. It's but hamely fare to put before a lord; but it's gien wi' hearty guid-will, and that maun mak amends."