Christie Johnstone Part 21

_Christie._ "'A pund o' that same mairchant's flesh is thine! the coort awards it, and the law does give it.'"

_A young Fishwife._ "There, I thoucht sae; he's gaun to cut him, he's gaun to cut him; I'll no can bide." _(Exibat.)_

_Christie._ "There's a fulish goloshen. 'Have by a doctor to stop the blood.'--'I see nae doctor in the boend,' says the Jew body."

_Flucker._ "Bait your hook wi' a boend, and ye shall catch yon carle's saul, Satin, my lad."

_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Flucker, dinna speak evil o'

deegneties--that's maybe fishing for yoursel' the noo!---'An' ye shall cut the flesh frae off his breest.'--'A sentence,' says Shylock, 'come, prepare.'"

Christie made a dash _en Shylock,_ and the company trembled.

_Christie._ "'Bide a wee,' says the judge, 'this boend gies ye na a drap o' bluid; the words expressly are, a pund o' flesh!'"

_(A Dramatic Pause.)_

_Jean Carnie (drawing her breath)._ "That's into your mutton, Shylock"

_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Jean! yon's an awfu' voolgar expra.s.sion to come fra' a woman's mooth."

"Could ye no hae said, 'intil his bacon'?" said Lizzie Johnstone, confirming the remonstrance.

_Christie._ "'Then tak your boend, an' your pund o' flesh, but in cutting o' 't, if thou dost shed one drop of Christian bluid, thou diest!'"

_Jean Carnie._ "Hech!"

_Christie._ "'Thy goods are by the laws Veneece con-fis-cate, confiscate!'"

Then, like an artful narrator, she began to wind up the story more rapidly.

"Sae Shylock got to be no sae saucy. 'Pay the boend thrice,' says he, 'and let the puir deevil go.'--'Here it's,' says Ba.s.sanio.--Na! the young judge wadna let him.--'He has refused it in open coort; no a bawbee for Shylock but just the forfeiture; an' he daur na tak it.'--'I'm awa',' says he. 'The deivil tak ye a'.'--Na! he wasna to win clear sae; ance they'd gotten the Jew on the hep, they worried him, like good Christians, that's a fact. The judge fand a law that fitted him, for conspiring against the life of a citizen; an' he behooved to give up hoose an' lands, and be a Christian; yon was a soor drap--he tarned no weel, puir auld villain, an' scairt.i.t; an' the lawyers sent ane o' their weary parchments till his hoose, and the puir auld heathen signed awa'

his siller, an' Abraham, an' Isaac, an' Jacob, on the heed o' 't. I pity him, an auld, auld man; and his dochter had rin off wi' a Christian lad--they ca' her Jessica, and didn't she steal his very diamond ring that his ain la.s.s gied him when he was young, an' maybe no sae hard-hairted?"

_Jean Carnie._ "Oh, the jaud! suppose he was a Jew, it was na her business to clean him oot."

_A young Fishwife._ "Aweel, it was only a Jew body, that's my comfort."

_Christie._ "Ye speak as a Jew was na a man; has not a Jew eyes, if ye please?"

_Lizzy Johnstone._ "Ay, has he!--and the awfuest lang neb atween 'em."

_Christie._ "Has not a Jew affections, paa.s.sions, organs?"

_Jean._ "Na! Christie; thir lads comes fr' Italy!"

_Christie._ "If you p.r.i.c.k him, does he not bleed? if you tickle him, does na he lauch?"

_A young Fishwife (pertly)._ "I never kittlet a Jew, for my pairt--sae I'll no can tell ye."

_Christie._ "If you poison him, does he not die? and if you wrang him"

(with fury) "shall he not revenge?"

_Lizzie Johnstone._ "Oh! but ye're a fearsome la.s.s."

_Christie._ "Wha'll give me a sang for my bonny yarn?"

Lord Ipsden, who had been an un.o.bserved auditor of the latter part of the tale, here inquired whether she had brought her book.

"What'n buik?"

"Your music-book!"

"Here's my music-book," said Jean, roughly tapping her head.

"And here's mines," said Christie, birdly, touching her bosom.

"Richard," said she, thoughtfully, "I wish ye may no hae been getting in voolgar company. Div ye think we hae minds like rinning water?"

_Flucker (avec malice)._ "And tongues like the mill-clack abune it?

Because if ye think sae, captain--ye're no far wrang!"

_Christie._ "Na! we hae na muckle gowd maybe; but our minds are gowden vessels."

_Jean._ "Aha! lad."

_Christie._ "They are not saxpenny sieves, to let music an' meter through, and leave us none the wiser or better. Dinna gang in low voolgar company, or you a lost laddy."

_Ipsden._ "Vulgar, again! everybody has a different sense for that word, I think. What is vulgar?"

_Christie._ "Voolgar folk sit on an chair, ane, twa, whiles three hours, eatin' an' abune drinkin', as still as hoegs, or gruntin' puir every-day clashes, goessip, rubbich; when ye are aside them, ye might as weel be aside a cuddy; they canna gie ye a sang, they canna gie ye a story, they canna think ye a thoucht, to save their useless lives; that's voolgar folk."

She sings. "A caaller herrin'!"

_Jean._ "A caaller herrin'!"

_Omnes._

"Come buy my bonny caaller herrin', Six a penny caaller from the sea,"

etc.

The music chimed in, and the moment the song was done, without pause, or anything to separate or chill the succession of the arts, the fiddles diverged with a gallant plunge into "The Dusty Miller." The dancers found their feet by an instinct as rapid, and a rattling reel shook the floor like thunder. Jean Carnie a.s.sumed the privilege of a bride, and seized his lordship; Christie, who had a mind to dance with him too, took Flucker captive, and these four were one reel! There were seven others.

The principle of reel dancing is articulation; the foot strikes the ground for every _accented_ note (and, by the by, it is their weakness of accent which makes all English reel and hornpipe players such failures).

And in the best steps of all, which it has in common with the hornpipe, such as the quick "heel and toe," "the sailor's fling," and the "double shuffle," the foot strikes the ground for every _single_ note of the instrument.

All good dancing is beautiful.