The Life of Mansie Wauch Part 4

When the door was put ajee, and the furm set fornent the fire, I gave Isaac a dram to keep his heart up on such a cold stormy night. 'Od, but he was a droll fellow, Isaac. He sung and leuch as if he had been boozing in Luckie Thamson's, with some of his drucken cronies. Feint a hair cared he about auld kirks, or kirkyards, or vouts, or through-stanes, or dead folk in their winding-sheets, with the wet gra.s.s growing over them, and at last I began to brighten up a wee myself; so when he had gone over a good few funny stories, I said to him, quoth I, "Mony folk, I daresay, mak mair noise about their sitting up in a kirkyard than it's a' worth. There's naething here to harm us?"

"I beg to differ wi' ye there," answered Isaac, taking out his horn mull from his coat pouch, and tapping on the lid in a queer style--"I could gie anither version of that story. Did ye no ken of three young doctors--Eirish students--alang with some resurrectioners, as waff and wile as themsells, firing shottie for shottie with the guard at Kirkmabreck, and lodging three slugs in ane of their backs, forbye firing a ramrod through anither ane's hat?"

This was a wee alarming--"No," quoth I; "no, Isaac, man; I never heard of it."

"But, let alane resurrectioners, do you no think there is sic a thing as ghaists? Guide ye, man, my grannie could hae telled as muckle about them as would have filled a minister's sermons from June to January."

"Kay--kay--that's all buff," I said. "Are there nae cutty-stool businesses--are there nae marriages going on just now, Isaac?" for I was keen to change the subject.

"Ye may kay--kay, as ye like, though; I can just tell ye this:--Ye'll mind auld Armstrong with the leather breeks, and the brown three-story wig--him that was the grave-digger? Weel, he saw a ghaist, wi' his leeving een--aye, and what's better, in this very kirkyard too. It was a cauld spring morning, and daylight just coming in when he came to the yett yonder, thinking to meet his man, paidling Jock--but Jock had sleepit in, and wasna there. Weel, to the wast corner ower yonder he gaed, and throwing his coat ower a headstane, and his hat on the tap o't, he dug away with his spade, casting out the mools, and the coffin handles, and the green banes and sic like, till he stoppit a wee to take breath.--What! are ye whistling to yoursell?" quoth Isaac to me, "and no hearing what's G.o.d's truth?"

"Ou, ay," said I; "but ye didna tell me if onybody was cried last Sunday?"--I would have given every farthing I had made by the needle, to have been at that blessed time in my bed with my wife and wean. Ay, how I was gruing! I mostly chacked off my tongue in chittering.--But all would not do.

"Weel, speaking of ghaists--when he was resting on his spade he looked up to the steeple, to see what o'clock it was, wondering what way Jock hadna come, when lo! and behold, in the lang diced window of the kirk yonder, he saw a lady a' in white, with her hands clasped thegither, looking out to the kirkyard at him.

"He couldna believe his een, so he rubbit them with his sark sleeve, but she was still there bodily; and, keeping ae ee on her, and anither on his road to the yett, he drew his coat and hat to him below his arm, and aff like mad, throwing the shool half a mile ahint him. Jock fand that; for he was coming singing in at the yett, when his maister ran clean ower the tap o' him, and capsized him like a toom barrel; never stopping till he was in at his ain house, and the door baith bolted and barred at his tail.

"Did ye ever hear the like of that, Mansie? Weel, man, I'll explain the hail history of it to ye. Ye see--'Od! how sound that callant's sleeping," continued Isaac; "he's snoring like a nine-year-auld!"

I was glad he had stopped, for I was like to sink through the ground with fear; but no, it would not do.

"Dinna ye ken--sauf us! what a fearsome night this is! The trees will be all broken. What a noise in the lum! I daresay there's some auld hag of a witch-wife gaun to come rumble doun't. It's no the first time, I'll swear. Hae ye a silver sixpence? Wad ye like that?" he bawled up the chimney. "Ye'll hae heard," said he, "lang ago, that a wee murdered wean was buried--didna ye hear a voice?--was buried below that corner--the hearth-stane there, where the laddie's lying on?"

I had now lost my breath, so that I could not stop him.

"Ye never heard tell o't, didna ye? Weel, I'se tell't ye--Sauf us, what swurls of smoke coming doun the chimley--I could swear something no canny's stopping up the lum head--Gang out, and see!"

At that moment a clap like thunder was heard--the candle was driven over--the sleeping laddie roared "Help!" and "Murder!" and "Thieves!"

and, as the furm on which we were sitting played flee backwards, cripple Isaac bellowed out, "I'm dead!--I'm killed--shot through the head!--Oh!

oh! oh!"

Surely I had fainted away; for, when I came to myself, I found my red comforter loosed; my face all wet--Isaac rubbing down his waistcoat with his sleeve--the laddie swigging ale out of a bicker--and the brisk brown stout, which, by casting its cork, had caused all the alarm, whizz--whizz--whizzing in the chimley lug.

CHAPTER ELEVEN--TAFFY WITH THE PIGTAIL: SCHOOL RECOLLECTIONS

It was a clear starry night, in the blasty month of January, I mind it well. The snow had fallen during the afternoon; or, as Benjie came in crying, that "the auld wives o' the norlan sky were plucking their geese"; and it continued dim and dowie till towards the gloaming, when, as the road-side labourers were dandering home from their work, some with pickaxes and others with shools, and just as our c.o.c.ks and hens were going into their beds, poor things, the lift cleared up to a sharp freeze, and the well-ordered stars came forth glowing over the blue sky.

Between six and seven the moon rose; and I could not get my two prentices in from the door, where they were bickering one another with snow-b.a.l.l.s, or maybe carhailling the folk on the street in their idle wantonness; so I was obliged for that night to disappoint Edie Macfarlane of the pair of black spatterdashes he was so anxious to get finished, for dancing in next day, at Souple Jack the carpenter's grand penny-wedding.

Seeing that little more good was to be expected till morning, I came to the resolution of shutting-in half-an-hour earlier than usual; so, as I was carrying out the shop-shutters, with my hat over my cowl, for it was desperately sharp, I mostly in my hurry knocked down an old man, that was coming up to ask me, "if I was Maister Wauch the tailor and furnisher."

Having told him that I was myself, instead of a better; and having asked him to step in, that I might have a glimpse of his face at the candle, I saw that he was a stranger, dressed in a droll auld-farrant green livery-coat, faced with white. His waistcoat was cut in the Parly-voo fashion, with long lappels, and a double row of b.u.t.tons down the breast; and round his neck he had a black corded stock, such like, but not so broad, as I afterwards wore in the volunteers, when drilling under Big Sam. He had a well-worn sc.r.a.per on his head, peaked before and behind, with a bit c.r.a.pe knotted round it, which he politely took off, making a low bow; and requesting me to bargain with him for a few articles of grand second-hand apparel, which once belonged to his master that was deceased, and which was now carried by himself, in a bundle under his left oxter.

Happening never to make a trade of dealing in this line, and not very sure like as to how the old man might have come by the bundle in these riotous and knock-him-down times, I swithered a moment, giving my chin a rub, before answering; and then advised him to take a step in at his leisure to St Mary's Wynd, where he would meet in with merchants in scores. But no; he seemed determined to strike a bargain with me; and I heard from the man's sponsible and feasible manner of speech--for he was an old weatherbeaten-looking body of a creature, with gleg een, a c.o.c.k nose, white locks, and a tye behind--that the clothes must have been left him, as a kind of friendly keepsake, by his master, now beneath the mools. Thinking by this, that if I got them at a wanworth, I might boldly venture, I condescended to his loosing down the bundle, which was in a blue silk napkin with yellow flowers. As he was doing this, he told me that he was on his way home from the north to his own country, which lay among the green Welsh hills, far away; and that he could not carry much luggage with him, as he was obliged to travel with his baggage tied up in a bundle, on the end of his walking-staff, over his right shoulder.

Pity me! what a grand coat it was! I thought at first it must have been worn on the King's own back, honest man; for it was made of green velvet, and embroidered all round about--back seams, side seams, flaps, lappels, b.u.t.ton-holes, nape and cuffs, with gold lace and spangles, in a manner to have dazzled the understanding of any Jew with a beard shorter than his arm. So, no wonder that it imposed on the like of me; and I was mostly ashamed to make him an offer for it of a crown-piece and a dram. The waistcoat, which was of white satin, single-breasted, and done up with silver tinsel in a most beautiful manner, I also bought from him for a couple of shillings, and four hanks of black thread. Though I would on no account or consideration give him a bode for the Hessian boots, which having cuddy-heels and long silk tossels, were by far and away over grand for the like of a tailor, such as me, and fit for the Sunday's wear of some fashionable Don of the first water. However, not to part uncivilly, and be as good as my word, I brought ben Nanse's bottle, and gave him a c.a.w.ker at the shop counter; and, after taking a thimbleful to myself, to drink a good journey to him, I bade him take care of his feet, as the causeway was frozen, and saw the auld flunkie safely over the strand with a candle.

Ye may easily conceive that Nanse got a surprise, when I paraded ben to the room with the grand coat and waistcoat on, c.o.c.king up my head, putting my hands into the haunch pockets, and strutting about more like a peac.o.c.k than a douce elder of Maister Wiggie's kirk; so just as, thinking shame of myself, I was about to throw it off, I found something bulky at the bottom of the side pocket, which I discovered to be a wheen papers fastened together with green tape. Finding they were written in a real neat hand, I put on my spectacles, and sending up the close for James Batter, we sat round the fireside, and read away like nine-year-aulds.

The next matter of consideration was, whether, in buying the coat as it stood, the paper belonged to me, or the old flunkie waiting-servant with the peaked hat. James and me, after an hour and a half's argle-bargleing pro and con, in the way of Parliament-house lawyers, came at last to be unanimously of opinion, that according to the auld Scotch proverb of

"He that finds keeps, And he that loses seeks,"

whatever was part or pendicle of the coat at the time of purchase, when it hung exposed for sale over the white-headed Welshman's little finger, became according to the law of nature and nations, as James Batter wisely observed, part and pendicle of the property of me, Mansie Wauch, the legal purchaser.

Notwithstanding all this, however, I was not sincerely convinced in my own conscience; and I daresay if the creature had cast up, and come seeking them back, I would have found myself bound to make rest.i.tution.

This is not now likely to happen; for twenty long years have come and pa.s.sed away, like the sunshine of yesterday, and neither word nor wittens of the body have been seen or heard tell of; so, according to the course of nature, being a white-headed old man, with a pigtail, when the bargain was made, his dust and bones have, in all likelihood, long ago mouldered down beneath the green turf of his own mountains, like his granfather's before him. This being the case, I daresay it is the reader's opinion as well as my own, that I am quite at liberty to make what use of them I like. Concerning the poem things that came first in hand, I do not pretend to be any judge; but James thinks he could scarcely write any muckle better himself: so here goes; but I cannot tell you to what tune:

SONG

I

They say that other eyes are bright, I see no eyes like thine; So full of Heaven's serenest light, Like midnight stars they shine.

II

They say that other cheeks are fair-- But fairer cannot glow The rosebud in the morning air, Or blood on mountain snow.

III

Thy voice--Oh sweet it streams to me, And charms my raptured breast; Like music on the moonlight sea, When waves are lull'd to rest.

IV

The wealth of worlds were vain to give Thy sinless heart to buy; Oh I will bless thee while I live, And love thee till I die!

From this song it appears a matter beyond doubt--for I know human nature--that the flunkie's master had, in his earlier years, been deeply in love with some beautiful young lady, that loved him again, and that maybe, with a bounding and bursting heart, durst not let her affection be shown, from dread of her cruel relations, who insisted on her marrying some lord or baronet that she did not care one b.u.t.ton about. If so, unhappy pair, I pity them! Were we to guess our way in the dark a wee farther, I think it not altogether unlikely, that he must have fallen in with his sweetheart abroad, when wandering about on his travels; for what follows seems to come as it were from her, lamenting his being called to leave her forlorn and return home. This is all merely supposition on my part, and in the antiquarian style, whereby much is made out of little; but both me and James Batter are determined to be unanimously of this opinion, until otherwise convinced to the contrary. Love is a fiery and fierce pa.s.sion every where; but I am told that we, who live in a more favoured land, know very little of the terrible effects it sometimes causes, and the b.l.o.o.d.y tragedies, which it has a thousand times produced, where the heart of man is uncontrolled by reason or religion, and his blood heated into a raging fever, by the burning sun that glows in the heaven above his head.

Here follows the poem of Taffy's master's foreign sweetheart; which, considering it to be a woman's handiwork, is, I daresay, not that far amiss.

SONG OF THE SOUTH

I

Of all the garden flowers The fairest is the rose; Of winds that stir the bowers, Oh! there is none that blows Like the south--the gentle south-- For that balmy breeze is ours.

II

Cold is the frozen north; In its stern and savage mood, 'Mid gales, come drifting forth Bleak snows and drenching flood; But the south--the gentle south-- Thaws to love the unwilling blood.

III

Bethink thee of the vales, With their birds and blossoms fair-- Of the darkling nightingales, That charm the starry air In the south--the gentle south-- Ah! our own dear home is there.

IV