Historical fiction, Scottish; Scotland -- In literature
Mrs. Cleishbotham was not long before renewing the subject; for, like
most of the race of Xantippe, (though my help-mate is a well-spoken
woman,) she loves to thrust in her oar where she is not able to pull it
to purpose. "You are a sharp-witted man, Mr. Cleishbotham," would she
observe, "and a learned man, Mr. Cleishbotham--and the schoolmaster of
Gandercleuch, Mr. Cleishbotham, which is saying all in one word; but
many a man almost as great as yourself has lost the saddle by suffering
an inferior to get up behind him' and though, with the world, Mr.
Cleishbotham, you have the name of doing every thing, both in directing
the school and in this new profitable book line which you have taken
up, yet it begins to be the common talk of Gandercleuch, both up the
water and down the water, that the usher both writes the dominie's
books and teaches the dominie's school. Ay, ay, ask maid, wife, or
widow, and she'll tell ye, the least gaitling among them all comes to
Paul Pattison with his lesson as naturally as they come to me for their
four-hours, puir things; and never ane things of applying to you aboot
a kittle turn or a crabbed word, or about ony thing else, unless it
were for _licet exire_, or the mending of an auld pen."
Now this address assailed me on a summer evening, when I was whiling
away my leisure hours with the end of a cutty pipe and indulging in
such bland imaginations as the Nicotian weed is wont to produce, more
especially in the case of the studious persons, devoted _musis
severioribus_. I was naturally loth to leave my misty sanctuary; and
endeavoured to silence the clamour of Mrs. Cleishbotham's tongue, which
has something in it peculiarly shrill and penetrating. "Woman," said I
with a tone of domestic authority befitting the occasion, "_res tuas
agas_;--mind your washings and your wringings, your stuffings and your
physicking, or whatever concerns the outward persons of the pupils, and
leave the progress of their education to my usher, Paul Pattison, and
myself."
"I am glad to see," added the accursed woman, (that I should say so!)
"that ye have the grace to name him foremost, for there is little
doubt, that he ranks first of the troop, if ye wad but hear what the
neighbours speak--or whisper."
"What do they whisper, thou sworn sister of the Eumenides?" cried
I,--the irritating _aestrum_ of the woman's objurgation totally
counterbalancing the sedative effects both of pipe and pot.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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