Clergy -- Fiction; Country life -- Scotland -- Fiction; Deception -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction; Scotland -- Fiction
Gavin went in. The loom, and two stools, the one four-footed and
the other a buffet, were Rob's most conspicuous furniture. A
shaving-strap hung on the wall. The fire was out, but the trunk of
a tree, charred at one end, showed how he heated his house. He
made a fire of peat, and on it placed one end of a tree trunk that
might be six feet long. As the tree burned away it was pushed
further into the fireplace, and a roaring fire could always be got
by kicking pieces of the smouldering wood and blowing them into
flame with the bellows. When Rob saw the minister he groaned
relief and left his loom. He had been weaving, his teeth clenched,
his eyes on fire, for seven hours.
"I wasna fleid," little Micah said to the neighbours afterwards,
"to gang in wi' the minister. He's a fine man that. He didna ca'
my father names. Na, he said, 'You're a brave fellow, Rob,' and he
took my father's hand, he did. My father was shaking after his
fecht wi' the drink, and, says he. 'Mr. Dishart,' he says, 'if
you'll let me break out nows and nans, I could, bide straucht
atween times, but I canna keep sober if I hinna a drink to look
forrit to.' Ay, my father prigged sair to get one fou day in the
month, and he said, 'Syne if I die sudden, there's thirty chances
to one that I gang to heaven, so it's worth risking.' But Mr.
Dishart wouldna hear o't, and he cries, 'No, by God,' he cries,
'we'll wrestle wi' the devil till we throttle him,' and down him
and my father gaed on their knees.
"The minister prayed a lang time till my father said his hunger
for the drink was gone, 'but', he says, 'it swells up in me o' a
sudden aye, and it may be back afore you're hame.' 'Then come to
me at once,' says Mr. Dishart; but my father says, 'Na, for it
would haul me into the public-house as if it had me at the end o'
a rope, but I'll send the laddie."
"You saw my father crying the minister back? It was to gie him twa
pound, and, says my father, 'God helping me,' he says, 'I'll droon
mysel in the dam rather than let the drink master me, but in case
it should get haud o' me and I should die drunk, it would be a
michty gratification to me to ken that you had the siller to bury
me respectable without ony help frae the poor's rates.' The
minister wasna for taking it at first, but he took it when he saw
how earnest my father was. Ay, he's a noble man. After he gaed awa
my father made me learn the names o' the apostles frae Luke sixth,
and he says to me, 'Miss out Bartholomew,' he says, 'for he did
little, and put Gavin Dishart in his place.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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