John Cheap, the Chapman's Library. Vol. 1: Comic and Humorous: The Scottish Chap Literature of Last Century, ClassifiedGraham, Dougal
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John Cheap, the Chapman's Library. Vol. 1: Comic and Humorous: The Scottish Chap Literature of Last Century, Classified
Graham, Dougal
Chapbooks, Scottish; English literature -- 18th century; Graham, Dougal, 1724-1779; Popular literature -- Scotland
I wad hae gien half-a-crown, at that blessed moment, to hae been
able to wash my hands free o’ him; but I swithered, and was like
the cuddie between the twa bundles of hay. At lang and last a
thocht struck me, which was to gie the deluded simple cratur a
chance of escape; reckoning that if he fand his way hame, he wad
see the shame and folly of feighting against us ony mair; and,
marrying Maysie Rabbie, live a contented and peacefu’ life under
his ain feg and bey tree. So, wishing him a sound sleep, I cried
through the door,--“Mounseer, gooda nighta;” decoying away Benjie
and Tammy Bodkin into the house, and dispatching them to their beds
like lamp-lighters, bidding them never, fash their thumbs, but
sleep like taps, as I would keep a sharp look-out till morning.
As soon, hoosomever, as I fand a’ things snug, I slippit awa to the
coal hole, and gien the key a canny turn in the lock, I went to my
bed beside Nanse.
At the dawn o’ day, by cock-craw, Benjie and Tammy Bodkin, keen o’
the ploy, were up and astir as anxious as if their life depended on
it, to see that all was safe and snug, and that the prisoner hadna
shot the lock. They agreed to march sentry over him, half an hour
the piece, time about, the ane stretching himsell out on a stool
beside the kitchen fire, by way of a bench in the guard-house,
while the other gaed to and fro like the ticker of a clock.
The back window being up a jink, I heard the twa confabbing.
‘We’ll draw cuts,’ said Benjie, ‘which is to walk sentry first;
see, here’s twa straes, the langest gets the choice,’ ‘I’ve won,’
cried Tammy, ‘so gang you in a while, and if I need ye, or grow
frightened, I’ll beat leather-ty-patch wi’ my knuckles on the back
door. But we had better see first what he is about, for he may
be howking a hole through aneath the foundations; thae fiefs can
work like moudiewards.’--‘I’ll slip forrit,’ said Benjie, ‘and gie
a peep,’--‘Keep to a side,’ cried Tammy Bodkin, ‘for, dog on it,
Moosey’ll maybe hae a pistol;--and, if his birse be up, he would
think nae mair o’ shooting ye as dead as a mawkin than I would do
of taking my breakfast.’
‘I’ll rin past, and gie a knock at the door wi’ the poker to rouse
him up?’ askit Benjie.
‘Come away then,’ answered Tammie, ‘and ye’ll hear him gie a yowl,
and commence gabbling like a goose.’
As all this was going on, I rose and took a vizzy between the
chinks of the window-shutters; so, just as I got my neb to the
hole, I saw Benjie, as he flew past, give the door a drive. His
consternation, on finding it flee half open, may be easier imagined
than described, for, expecting the Frenchman to bounce out like a
roaring lion, they hurried like mad into the house, couping the
creels ower ane anither, Tammie spraining his thumb against the
back door, and Benjie’s foot going into Tammie’s coat pocket, which
it carried away with it, like a cloth sandal; what became o’ the
French vagrant is a matter o’ surmise,--nae mortal kens.
FINIS.
THE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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