Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
“Ou, that's just what I said to Pate; if it like your honour, I'll tell
you the very words; it's no worth making a lie for the matter--'Pate,'
said I, 'what ado had the lords and lairds and gentles at Lunnun wi' the
carle and his walise?--When we had a Scotch Parliament, Pate,' says I
(and deil rax their thrapples that reft us o't!) 'they sate dousely down
and made laws for a haill country and kinrick, and never fashed their
beards about things that were competent to the judge ordinar o' the
bounds; but I think,' said I, 'that if ae kailwife pou'd aff her
neighbour's mutch they wad hae the twasome o' them into the Parliament
House o' Lunnun. It's just,' said I, 'amaist as silly as our auld daft
laird here and his gomerils o' sons, wi' his huntsmen and his hounds, and
his hunting cattle and horns, riding haill days after a bit beast that
winna weigh sax punds when they hae catched it.'”
“You argued most admirably, Andrew,” said I, willing to encourage him to
get into the marrow of his intelligence; “and what said Pate?”
“Ou,” he said, “what better could be expected of a wheen pock-pudding
English folk?--But as to the robbery, it's like that when they're a' at
the thrang o' their Whig and Tory wark, and ca'ing ane anither, like
unhanged blackguards--up gets ae lang-tongued chield, and he says, that
a' the north of England were rank Jacobites (and, quietly, he wasna far
wrang maybe), and that they had levied amaist open war, and a king's
messenger had been stoppit and rubbit on the highway, and that the best
bluid o' Northumberland had been at the doing o't--and mickle gowd ta'en
aff him, and mony valuable papers; and that there was nae redress to be
gotten by remeed of law for the first justice o' the peace that the
rubbit man gaed to, he had fund the twa loons that did the deed birling
and drinking wi' him, wha but they; and the justice took the word o' the
tane for the compearance o' the tither; and that they e'en gae him
leg-bail, and the honest man that had lost his siller was fain to leave
the country for fear that waur had come of it.”
“Can this be really true?” said I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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