Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume III Part 10

"Weel dune, stranger--I'm as glad as though I had gotten a gowden coin."

Now, it is but justice to Andrew to say that he had repeatedly defeated Meikle Robin, both at wresting, cudgel-playing, and every athletic exercise; but I shall give the reader an account of his having done so on one occasion in his own words, as it is necessary for the forwarding of our narrative.

Andrew went to Lamberton with his fish on the following day, and again he found a profitable market; and some words had again pa.s.sed between him and Meikle Robin; but, as he was returning home, he overtook the stranger by whom Robin had been defeated.

"Losh, man!" said Andrew, pulling up his pony, "is this ye? I canna tell ye hoo glad I am to see ye, for I've dune naething but thocht o' ye ever since yesterday, when I saw ye tak the brag oot o' Meikle Robin, just as easily as I would bend a w.i.l.l.y-wand. Now, I hope, sir, although ye are a stranger, ye no think ill o' my familiarity?"

"Think ill, comrade," said the other, "why should I do so?"

"Why, I watna," said Andrew, "but there seems to be sae mony kind o'

b.u.t.terflies getting about the court now, wi' their frills and their gold-laced jackets, from what I can judge o' their appearance for some days past on the Moor, that I wasna sure but it might be like-master like-man wi' ye, and I was uncertain how to speak to ye. I didna ken but that, in some things, ye might imitate your superiors, and treat a cadger body as though they hadna been o' the same flesh an blood wi'

yoursel."

The stranger laughed, and repeated the adage--

"Why--the king may come in the cadger's way."

"Very true, sir," said Andrew, "and may find him a man mair like himsel than he imagines. But, sir, what I was gaun to say to you--and it is connected wi' your defeating o' Meikle Robin yesterday--(at least I wish to make it connected wi' it). Weel, just five days syne, I was at Lamberton--it was the very day after the royal party arrived--and Robin was there. Perhaps you was there yoursel; but the tents were there, and the games, and the shows, and everything was going on just the same as ye saw them yesterday. But, as I was telling ye, Meikle Robin was there.

Now, he gets the brag o' being the best cudgel-player, putter, and wrestler, in a' Berwickshire--and, between you and I, that is a character that I didna like to hear gaun past mysel. However, as I was saying, on the day after the royal party had come to the Moor, and the games were begun, he had the ball fairly at his foot, and fient a ane durst tak him up ava. He was terribly insulting in the pride o' his victoriousness, and, in order to humble him, some were running frae tent to tent to look for Strong Andrew--(that is me, ye observe; for they ca'

me that as a sort o' nickname--though for what reason I know not). At last they got me. I had had a quegh or twa, and I was gay weel on--(for I never in my born days had had such a market for my fish; indeed, I got whatever I asked, and I was wishing in my heart that the king's marriage party would stop at Lammerton Moor for a twelvemonth)--but, though I had a drappie ower the score, Robin was as sober as a judge; for, plague tak him! he kenned what he was doing--he was ower cunnin to drink, and laid himsel out for a quarrel. It was his aim to carry the 'gree' ower a'

upon the Moor at everything, that the king, who is said to be as fond o'

thae sort o' sports as onybody, might tak notice o' him, and do something for him. There was a cowardliness in the very idea o' such conduct--it showed a fox's heart in the carcase o' a bullock. Weel, those that were seeking me got me, and clean off hand I awa to the tent where he was making a' his great braggadocio, and, says I to him, 'Robin,' says I, 'I'm your man at onything ye like, and for whatever ye like. I'll run ye--or, I'll jump ye--I'll putt the stone wi' ye--or, _I'll fight ye_--and, if ye like it better, I'll wrestle ye--or try ye at the cudgels--and dinna be cutting your capers there ower a wheen callants.' Weel, up he got, and a ring was made aback o' the tent. He had an oak stick as thick as your wrist, and I had naething but the bit half switch that I hae in my hand the now, for driving up the Galloway.

Mine was a mere bog-reed to his, independent o' its being fully six inches shorter--and, if ye ken onything about cudgelling, that was a material point. 'Od, sir, I found I couldna cope wi' him. My stick, or rather switch, was nae better than half a dozen o' rashes plaited together. 'Will ony o' ye lend me a stick, gentlemen?' cried I to the bystanders, while I keepit guarding him off the best way I could. Aboon a dozen were offered in an instant. I gript at the nearest. Now 'Heaven hae mercy on ye!' said I, and gied him a whissel beneath the elbow, and, before ye could say Jock Robison! cam clink across his knee. I declare to ye, sir, he cam spinning down like a totum. He talked nae mair o'

wrestling, or cudgelling, or onything else that day. I settled him for four-and-twenty hours at ony rate. Weel, sir, I was perfectly delighted when I saw you lay him on the broad o' his back yesterday; and I had nae mair words wi' him, frae the day that I humbled him, until about four hours syne, when I met in wi' him on the Moor, amang three or four o'

his cronies, at his auld trade o' boasting again. I had nae patience wi'

him. But he had a drop ower meikle, and, at ony rate, I thought there could be nae honour in beating the same man twice. But, says I to him 'Ye needna craw sae loud, for, independent o' me bringing ye to the ground at cudgelling, and making ye no worth a doit, I saw a youngster that wrestled wi' ye yesterday, twist ye like a barley-strae.' And, to do him justice, sir, he didna attempt to deny it, but said that ye wud do the same by me, if I would try ye, and offered to back ye against ony man in the twa kingdoms. Now, sir, I looked about all the day in the crowd, just to see if I could clap my een on ye, and to ask ye, in a friendly way, if ye would let me try what sort o' stuff ye are made o', but I couldna fall in wi' ye; and now I'm really glad that I hae met wi'

ye--and as this is a gay level place here, and the ground is not very hard, what do ye say if we try a thraw, in a neighbourly way; and after that, we can cut a bit branch frae ane o' the allers, for a cudgelling bout. Ye will really very particularly oblige me, sir, if ye will."

The stranger readily replied, "With all my heart, friend--be it so."

Andrew cast off his jacket and bonnet, and, throwing them on the ground, his large water-dog, which was called Caesar, placed himself beside them.

"Dinna thraw till I get a grip," cried Andrew, as the stranger had him already lifted from his feet--"that's no fair--it's no our country way o' thrawing."

The request was granted, and only granted, when Andrew measured his length upon the ground, and his dog sprang forward to attack the victor.

"Get back, Caesar!" shouted its master--"It was a fair fa', I canna deny it! Sorrow tak me if I thought there was a man in ten parishes could hae done the like! Gie's yer hand," said he, as he rose to his feet; "I'll thraw nor cudgel nae mair wi' you; but, as sure as my name's Andrew, I would bite my last coin through the middle, to gie ye the half o't, should ye want it. I like to meet wi' a good man, even though he should be better than mysel--and, in the particular o' wrestling, I allow that ye do bang me--though I dinna say how we might stand in other respects, for they've no been tried. But it was a fair fa'. 'Od, ye gied me a jirk as though I had been touched by lightning."

Before reaching Eyemouth, they came to a change-house by the wayside, which was kept by a widow, called Nancy Hewitt; and who was not only noted on account of the excellence of the liquor with which she supplied her customers, but who also had a daughter, named Janet, whose beauty rendered her the toast of the countryside.

"I am always in the habit," said Andrew, "o' stopping here for refreshment, and, if ye hae nae objections, we'll toom a stoup together."

"Cheerily, cheerily," answered his companion.

The fair daughter of the hostess was from home when they entered, and Andrew inquired after her with a solicitude that bespoke something more between them than mere acquaintanceship. The stranger slightly intimated that he had heard of her, and, after a few seemingly indifferent questions respecting her, for a few minutes became silent and thoughtful.

"Hoot, man," said Andrew, "I am vexed to see ye sae dowie--gie cauld care a kick like a foot-ba'. This is nae time to be sad when the king is merry, and the country's merry, an' we're a' happy thegither. Cheer up, I say, man--what's the matter wi' ye?--care has a strange look on a body's shouthers at seven or eight and twenty; and I dinna think ye can be mair. I am on the wrang side o' three and thirty, and I would snap my fingers at it, were it blawing its breath in my face as snell as a drift on an open moor! Losh man! what ails ye? Ye would say I had met wi' a friar in orders grey, lamenting owre the sins o' the world, and the poverty o' his pocket, instead o' a young bang fellow like you, that's a match for onybody. Come, here's to the health o' bonny Jenny Hewitt."

"With all my heart," said the stranger; and, p.r.o.nouncing the name of the fair maiden, quaffed off his liquor.

"Now, that's wiselike; there's some spirit in that," said Andrew, following his example; "let's be merry while we can; that's aye my creed. The ne'er a grain o' guid, as I used to say to my mother, comes out o' melancholy. Let's hae a sang--I see you hae a singing face--or I'll gie ye ane mysel, to mak a beginning."

So saying, with a voice like thunder broken into music, he sang as follows:--

In our young, young days, When the gowany braes Were our temple o' joy and glee, Some dour auld body would shake his head, And tell us our gladness away would flee, And our hearts beat as heavy as lead.

Stupid auld body--silly auld body-- His mother spained him wi' a canker-worm.

In our auld, auld days, the gowany braes Are memory's rainbows owre time and storm.

In our proud young days, When the gowany braes Kenn'd the feet o' my love and me, Some ill-matched carle would girn and say-- "Puir things! wi' a twalmonth's marriage, and ye Will find love like a snaw-ba' decay."

Stupid auld carle--leein' auld carle-- His mother spained him wi' a canker-worm.

In our auld, auld days, like gowany braes, Our love unchang'd, has its youthfu' form.

In our grey-haired days, When the gowany braes Are owre steep for our feet to climb-- When her back is bowed, and her lovely e'e, Once bricht as a beam frae the sun, is dim-- She'll be still my bit la.s.sie to me.

Stupid auld body--wicked auld body-- Love, like the gowan's a winter liver.

The smile o' a wife is the sun o' its life, An' her bosom a brae where it blooms for ever.

A few minutes after Andrew had concluded his song, the fair daughter of their hostess entered the house. Andrew's first glance bespoke the lover, and the smile with which she returned it showed that the young fisherman and cadger was not an unaccepted wooer.

"By my sooth, fair maiden," said the stranger, "and thy sweet face doesna belie its fame; admiration fails in painting the loveliness of thy glowing cheeks, and thine een might make a moonbeam blush!"

He seemed practised in the art of gallantry, and poured into her ear other compliments in a similar strain. She hung her head, and turned it aside from him, as a woman will when flattered, or when she wishes to be flattered, but she did not rise to depart; and he felt that the incense which he offered to her beauty was not unacceptable. But the words and the attentions of the stranger were as daggers in the ears, and as wormwood in the heart of Andrew.

"The mischief rive his smooth tongue out o' his head!" thought Andrew; "but though I hae nae chance in speaking balderdash wi' him, and though he did thraw me (and it was maybe by an unmanly quirk after a'), I'll let her see, if he has the glibest tongue, wha has the manliest arm!"

Neither love nor liquor, however, can allay the cravings of a hungry stomach, and the stranger (who evidently beguiled Andrew to drink more than the portion that ought to have fallen to him) called for something to eat, by way of a relish.

"O sir," said Nancy Hewitt, their hostess, "I'm verra sorry an' vexed that I hae naething in the house that I could gie ye--naething o'

kitchen kind but the haddocks which Andrew left this forenoon; an' I hae been sae thrang wi' folk gaun back an' forret to Lamberton, that they're no gutted yet. But if ye could tak them, ye are welcome to them."

"Gut two, then, good dame, and prepare them," said the stranger.

"I doubt, sir, twa winna do," said she, "for they're but sma'--I had better gut thrie."

"Certainly, _gut thrie_," said Andrew; "I brought the stranger in--and what is a haddie, or what are they worth?" for Andrew was anxious that the attention of his companion should be turned to anything, were it only withdrawn from Janet's face.

"You are a generous-hearted fellow," said the stranger, "and _gut thrie_ shall I call you, if we meet again."

Having therefore partaken of his repast, he proposed that they should again fill the stoup to friendship's growth; and although Andrew was wroth and jealous because of the words which he had spoken, and the attention he had shewn to fair Janet, he was not made of materials to resist the proposition to have another cup. But while they were yet drinking it, Andrew's pony, which had repeatedly raised its fore foot and struck it heavily on the ground, as if calling on its master to "come," being either scared, or its patience being utterly exhausted, set off at a canter from the door. He had rushed out without his bonnet, but, before he reached the road, it was fully forty yards a-head of him, and the louder he called on it, the nearer did the pony increase its pace to a gallop.

Andrew had scarce reached the door, when the stranger drew out a well-lined purse, and, after jerking it in his hand, he again replaced it in his pocket, and more boldly than before renewed his gallantries to fair Janet. Emboldened, however, by what he conceived to have been his recent success, he now overshot the mark; and, as Andrew again reached the house, he was aroused by the cries of--

"Mother! Mother!--O Andrew! Andrew!"

Old Nancy's voice, too, broke upon his ears at its highest scolding pitch; but he could only distinguish the word "Scoundrel!"

He rushed into the room, and there he beheld his own Janet struggling in the embrace of the stranger.

"Villain!" cried Andrew, and the other started round--but with our fisherman at all times it was but a word and a blow--and his blood, which before had been heated and fermenting, now boiled--he raised his hand and dealt a blow at his companion, which, before he could parry it, laid him prostrate on the floor.