The Shepherd's Calendar. Volume I (of II)Hogg, James
General
The Shepherd's Calendar. Volume I (of II)
Hogg, James
Country life -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction; Rural poor -- Fiction; Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Shepherds -- Fiction
"There is but one direct line that can be followed, and any other
would either form an acute or obtuse angle," said the Dominie;
"therefore I am resolved to proceed right forward, on mathematical
principles;" and away he went, skipping on his crutch, to arouse the
villagers to the scrutiny.
The smith remained behind, concerting with the Doctor, how to
controvert the Dominie's profound scheme of unshrouding the dead; and
certainly the smith's plan, viewed professionally, was not amiss. "O,
ye ken, sir, we maun just gie him another heat, and try to saften him
to reason, for he's just as stubborn as Muirkirk ir'n. He beats the
world for that."
While the two were in confabulation, Johnston, the old house-servant,
came in and said to the Doctor--"Sir, your servants are going to leave
the house, every one, this night, if you cannot fall on some means to
divert them from it. The old Laird is, it seems, risen again, and come
back among them, and they are all in the utmost consternation. Indeed,
they are quite out of their reason. He appeared in the stable to
Broadcast, who has been these two hours dead with terror, but is now
recovered, and telling such a tale down stairs, as never was heard
from the mouth of man."
"Send him up here," said the Doctor. "I will silence him. What does
the ignorant clown mean by joining in this unnatural clamour?"
John came up, with his broad bonnet in his hand, shut the door with
hesitation, and then felt twice with his hand if it really was shut.
"Well, John," said the Doctor, "what absurd lie is this that you are
vending among your fellow servants, of having seen a ghost?" John
picked some odds and ends of threads out of his bonnet, and said
nothing. "You are an old superstitious dreaming dotard," continued the
Doctor; "but if you propose in future to manufacture such stories, you
must, from this instant, do it somewhere else than in my service, and
among my domestics. What have you to say for yourself?"
"Indeed, sir, I hae naething to say but this, that we hae a' muckle
reason to be thankfu' that we are as we are."
"And whereon does that wise saw bear? What relation has that to the
seeing of a ghost? Confess then this instant, that you have forged and
vended a deliberate lie."
"Indeed, sir, I hae muckle reason to be thankfu'"--
"For what?"
"That I never tauld a deliberate lee in my life. My late master came
and spake to me in the stable; but whether it was his ghaist or
himsell--a good angel or a bad ane, I hae reason to be thankfu' I
never said; for I _do--not--ken_."
"Now, pray let us hear from that sage tongue of yours, so full of
sublime adages, what this doubtful being said to you?"
"I wad rather be excused, an it were your honour's will, and wad hae
reason to be thankfu'."
"And why should you decline telling this?"
"Because I ken ye wadna believe a word o't, it is siccan a strange
story. O sirs, but folks hae muckle reason to be thankfu' that they
are as they are!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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