Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — CompleteScott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Complete
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'Punds Scottish, ye shall understand. And the lady had not the siller
if she had pawned her gown; and they applied to the governor o'
Stirling castle, and to the major o' the Black Watch; and the governor
said it was ower far to the northward, and out of his district; and the
major said his men were gane hame to the shearing, and he would not
call them out before the victual was got in for all the Cramfeezers in
Christendom, let alane the Mearns, for that it would prejudice the
country. And in the meanwhile ye'll no hinder Gilliewhackit to take the
small-pox. There was not the doctor in Perth or Stirling would look
near the poor lad; and I cannot blame them, for Donald had been
misguggled by ane of these doctors about Paris, and he swore he would
fling the first into the loch that he catched beyond the pass. However
some cailliachs (that is, old women) that were about Donald's hand
nursed Gilliewhackit sae weel that, between the free open air in the
cove and the fresh whey, deil an he did not recover maybe as weel as if
he had been closed in a glazed chamber and a bed with curtains, and fed
with red wine and white meat. And Donald was sae vexed about it that,
when he was stout and weel, he even sent him free home, and said he
would be pleased with onything they would like to gie him for the
plague and trouble which he had about Gilliewhackit to an unkenn'd
degree. And I cannot tell you precisely how they sorted; but they
agreed sae right that Donald was invited to dance at the wedding in his
Highland trews, and they said that there was never sae meikle siller
clinked in his purse either before or since. And to the boot of all
that, Gilliewhackit said that, be the evidence what it liked, if he had
the luck to be on Donald's inquest, he would bring him in guilty of
nothing whatever, unless it were wilful arson or murder under trust.'
With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on illustrating the
existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps to the amusement of
Waverley than that of our readers. At length, after having marched over
bank and brae, moss and heather, Edward, though not unacquainted with
the Scottish liberality in computing distance, began to think that
Evan's five miles were nearly doubled. His observation on the large
measure which the Scottish allowed of their land, in comparison to the
computation of their money, was readily answered by Evan with the old
jest, 'The deil take them wha have the least pint stoup.'
[Footnote: The Scotch are liberal in computing their land and liquor;
the Scottish pint corresponds to two English quarts. As for their coin,
every one knows the couplet--
How can the rogues pretend to sense?
Their pound is only twenty pence.]
And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sportsman was seen, with
his dogs and attendant, at the upper end of the glen. 'Shough,' said
Dugald Mahony, 'tat's ta Chief.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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