Antiquarians -- Fiction; Beggars -- Fiction; Domestic fiction; Fathers and daughters -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
"Ye're very kindI doubtna, I doubtna; but there are some things a
master can command, and some he cannaI daresay he wad gar them keep
hands aff me(and troth, I think they wad hardly venture on that ony
gate)and he wad gar them gie me my soup parritch and bit meat. But trow
ye that Sir Arthur's command could forbid the gibe o' the tongue or the
blink o' the ee, or gar them gie me my food wi' the look o' kindness
that gars it digest sae weel, or that he could make them forbear a'
the slights and taunts that hurt ane's spirit mair nor downright
misca'ing?Besides, I am the idlest auld carle that ever lived; I downa
be bound down to hours o' eating and sleeping; and, to speak the honest
truth, I wad be a very bad example in ony weel regulated family."
"Well, then, Edie, what do you think of a neat cottage and a garden, and
a daily dole, and nothing to do but to dig a little in your garden when
you pleased yourself?"
"And how often wad that be, trow ye, my leddy? maybe no ance atween
Candlemas and Yule and if a' thing were done to my hand, as if I was Sir
Arthur himsell, I could never bide the staying still in ae place,
and just seeing the same joists and couples aboon my head night after
night.- -And then I have a queer humour o' my ain, that sets a strolling
beggar weel eneugh, whase word naebody mindsbut ye ken Sir Arthur has
odd sort o' waysand I wad be jesting or scorning at themand ye wad be
angry, and then I wad be just fit to hang mysell."
"O, you are a licensed man," said Isabella; "we shall give you all
reasonable scope: So you had better be ruled, and remember your age."
"But I am no that sair failed yet," replied the mendicant. "Od, ance I
gat a wee soupled yestreen, I was as yauld as an eel. And then what wad
a' the country about do for want o' auld Edie Ochiltree, that
brings news and country cracks frae ae farm-steading to anither, and
gingerbread to the lasses, and helps the lads to mend their fiddles, and
the gudewives to clout their pans, and plaits rush-swords and grenadier
caps for the weans, and busks the laird's flees, and has skill o'
cow-ills and horse-ills, and kens mair auld sangs and tales than a' the
barony besides, and gars ilka body laugh wherever he comes? Troth, my
leddy, I canna lay down my vocation; it would be a public loss."
"Well, Edie, if your idea of your importance is so strong as not to be
shaken by the prospect of independence"
"Na, na, Missit's because I am mair independent as I am," answered the
old man; "I beg nae mair at ony single house than a meal o' meat,
or maybe but a mouthfou o'tif it's refused at ae place, I get it at
anithersae I canna be said to depend on onybody in particular, but just
on the country at large."
"Well, then, only promise me that you will let me know should you ever
wish to settle as you turn old, and more incapable of making your usual
rounds; and, in the meantime, take this."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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