‘These things did not pass without notice and censure. We
are not made of wood or stone, and the things which connect
themselves with our hearts and habits cannot, like bark or
lichen, be rent away without our missing them. The farmer’s
dame lacked her usual share of intelligence, perhaps also
the self-applause which she had felt while distributing the
_awmous_ (alms), in shape of a _gowpen_ (handful) of oatmeal,
to the mendicant who brought the news. The cottage felt
inconvenience from interruption of the petty trade carried on
by the itinerant dealers. The children lacked their supply of
sugar-plums and toys; the young women wanted pins, ribbons,
combs, and ballads; and the old could no longer barter their
eggs for salt, snuff, and tobacco. All these circumstances
brought the busy Laird of Ellangowan into discredit, which was
the more general on account of his former popularity. Even his
lineage was brought up in judgment against him. They thought
“naething of what the like of Greenside, or Burnville, or
Viewforth, might do, that were strangers in the country; but
Ellangowan! that had been a name amang them since the mirk
Monanday, and lang before—_him_ to be grinding the puir at
that rate!—They ca’d his grandfather the Wicked Laird; but,
though he was whiles fractious aneuch, when he got into roving
company, and had ta’en the drap drink, he would have scorned to
gang on at this gate. Na, na, the muckle chumlay in the Auld
Place reeked like a killogie in his time, and there were as
mony puir folk riving at the banes in the court and about the
door, as there were gentles in the ha’. And the leddy, on ilka
Christmas night as it came round, gae twelve siller pennies to
ilka puir body about, in honour of the twelve apostles like.
They were fond to ca’ it papistrie; but I think our great folk
might take a lesson frae the papists whiles. They gie another
sort o’ help to puir folk than just dinging down a saxpence
in the brod on the Sabbath, and kilting, and scourging, and
drumming them a’ the sax days o’ the week besides.”’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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