Scotland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
By early morn on their fast-day the Tilliedrummers were straggling into
Thrums, and the weavers, already at their looms, read the clattering of
feet and carts aright. To convince themselves, all they had to do was to
raise their eyes; but the first triumph would have been to Tilliedrum if
they had done that. The invaders--the men in Aberdeen blue serge coats,
velvet knee-breeches, and broad blue bonnets, and the wincey gowns of
the women set off with hooded cloaks of red or tartan--tapped at the
windows and shouted insultingly as they passed; but, with pursed lips,
Thrums bent fiercely over its wobs, and not an Auld Licht showed outside
his door. The day wore on to noon, and still ribaldry was master of the
wynds. But there was a change inside the houses. The minister had pulled
down his blinds; moody men had left their looms for stools by the fire;
there were rumors of a conflict in Andra Gowrie's close, from which
Kitty McQueen had emerged with her short gown in rags; and Lang Tammas
was going from door to door. The austere precentor admonished fiery
youth to beware of giving way to passion; and it was a proud day for the
Auld Lichts to find their leading elder so conversant with apt Scripture
texts. They bowed their heads reverently while he thundered forth that
those who lived by the sword would perish by the sword; and when he had
finished they took him ben to inspect their bludgeons. I have a vivid
recollection of going the round of the Auld Licht and other houses to
see the sticks and the wrists in coils of wire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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