The Annals of the Parish: Or, the Chronicle of Dalmailing During the Ministry of the Rev. Micah BalwhidderGalt, John
General
The Annals of the Parish: Or, the Chronicle of Dalmailing During the Ministry of the Rev. Micah Balwhidder
Galt, John
Clergy -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
This notification, however, was a great trouble to my wife, who was only
used to manufacture the produce of our glebe and yard to a profitable
purpose, and not used to the treatment of deans and lords, and other
persons of quality. However, she was determined to stretch a point on
this occasion; and we had, as all present declared, a charming dinner;
for fortunately one of the sows had a litter of pigs a few days before,
and in addition to a goose, that is but a boss bird, we had a roasted pig
with an apple in its mouth, which was just a curiosity to see; and my
lord called it a tithe pig; but I told him it was one of Mrs.
Balwhidder’s own clecking, which saying of mine made no little sport when
expounded to the dean.
But, och how! this was the last happy summer that we had for many a year
in the parish; and an omen of the dule that ensued, was in a sacrilegious
theft that a daft woman, Jenny Gaffaw, and her idiot daughter, did in the
kirk, by tearing off and stealing the green serge lining of my lord’s
pew, to make, as they said, a hap for their shoulders in the cold
weather—saving, however, the sin, we paid no attention at the time to the
mischief and tribulation that so unheard-of a trespass boded to us all.
It took place about Yule, when the weather was cold and frosty, and poor
Jenny was not very able to go about seeking her meat as usual. The deed,
however, was mainly done by her daughter, who, when brought before me,
said, “her poor mother’s back had mair need of claes than the
kirk-boards;” which was so true a thing, that I could not punish her, but
wrote anent it to my lord, who not only overlooked the offence, but sent
orders to the servants at the castle to be kind to the poor woman, and
the natural, her daughter.
CHAPTER XV
YEAR 1774
WHEN I look back on this year, and compare what happened therein with the
things that had gone before, I am grieved to the heart, and pressed down
with an afflicted spirit. We had, as may be read, trials and
tribulations in the days that were past; and in the rank and boisterous
times of the smuggling there was much sin and blemish among us, but
nothing so dark and awful as what fell out in the course of this unhappy
year. The evil omen of daft Jenny Gaffaw and her daughter’s sacrilege,
had soon a bloody verification.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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