The Shepherd's Calendar. Volume I (of II)Hogg, James
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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
"Well, out with this strange story of yours. I do not promise to
credit it, but shall give it a patient hearing, provided you swear
that there is no forgery in it."
"Weel, as I was suppering the horses the night, I was dressing my late
kind master's favourite mare, and I was just thinking to mysell. An he
had been leeving, I wadna hae been my lane the night, for he wad hae
been standing over me cracking his jokes, and swearing at me in his
good-natured hamely way. Aye, but he's gane to his lang account,
thinks I, and we poor frail dying creatures that are left ahind hae
muckle reason to be thankfu' that we are as we are; when I looks up,
and behold there's my auld master standing leaning against the
trivage, as he used to do, and looking at me. I canna but say my heart
was a little astoundit, and maybe lap up through my midriff into my
breath-bellows--I couldna say; but in the strength o' the Lord I was
enabled to retain my senses for a good while. 'John Broadcast,' said
he, with a deep and angry tone,--'John Broadcast, what the d--l are
you thinking about? You are not currying that mare half. What a d--d
lubberly way of dressing a horse is that?'
"'L--d make us thankfu', master!' says I, 'are you there?'
"'Where else would you have me to be at this hour of the night, old
blockhead?' says he.
"'In another hame than this, master,' says I; 'but I fear me it is nae
good ane, that ye are sae soon tired o't.'
"'A d--d bad one, I assure you,' says he.
"'Ay, but, master,' says I, 'ye hae muckle reason to be thankfu' that
ye are as ye are.'
"'In what respects, dotard?' says he.
"'That ye hae liberty to come out o't a start now and then to get the
air,' says I; and oh, my heart was sair for him when I thought o' his
state! and though I was thankfu' that I was as I was, my heart and
flesh began to fail me, at thinking of my being speaking face to face
wi' a being frae the unhappy place. But out he briks again wi' a grit
round o' swearing about the mare being ill keepit; and he ordered me
to cast my coat and curry her weel, for that he had a lang journey to
take on her the morn.
"'You take a journey on her!' says I, 'I fear my new master will
dispute that privilege with you, for he rides her himsell the morn.'
"'He ride her!' cried the angry spirit; and then it burst out into a
lang string of imprecations, fearsome to hear, against you, sir; and
then added, 'Soon soon shall he be levelled with the dust! The dog!
the parricide! first to betray my child, and then to put down
myself!--But he shall not escape! he shall not escape!' cried he with
such a hellish growl, that I fainted, and heard no more."
"Weel, that beats the world!" quoth the smith; "I wad hae thought the
mare wad hae luppen ower yird and stane, or fa'en down dead wi'
fright."
"Na, na," said John, "in place o' that, whenever she heard him fa'
a-swearing, she was sae glad that she fell a-nickering."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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