Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 05
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 05
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
tred ava, whar ye're cuttled up ae nicht like a sick wife, wi' the best
to eat and drink, and the next to hae yer throat cut. It's no the thing,
by ony means."
Such were the reflections in which Willie indulged on this occasion--an
occasion which had shown him that the life of a king, as kings and
subjects were in Scotland in his time, whatever respect it might procure
him, in some instances was one of no small peril. Although, however, he
had determined, from the experience which he had just had of the dangers
of royalty, to resign the character, and disavow all claims to its
dignities very shortly, he yet resolved on going through with it for one
day longer--that is, until he had tried what sort of treatment it would
procure him at Braehead, whither, the reader will recollect, he was now
proceeding on the recommendation of the laird of Whinnyhill.
In this resolution, therefore, he in a few minutes started once more to
his feet, and resumed his journey, leaving the dead bodies of the slain
where they had fallen; but not, it must be observed, before he had
carefully searched them, to see whether or not there was anything about
them to reward him for the trouble of killing them. But in this he was
disappointed. On none of them was there anything of the smallest value.
"'Od, ye've been as puir's mysel," he said, on completing his fruitless
scrutiny into the pockets of the deceased. "Deil a bodle! No as muckle
as wad supper a midge."
Having said this, he rose from the kneeling posture to which his
employment had reduced him, and, as we have already said, resumed his
march through the Middlemas wood.
Leaving Willie to prosecute his journey, we request the reader to return
with us to Whinnyhill, where we shall find a circumstance occurring
which is intimately connected with the denouement of our tale.
Shortly after the former's departure from the place just named, another
stout carle of a mendicant appeared at the laird's gate. It was the
dinner hour, and, as was then customary in the country, and is so still,
we believe, in some places, the doors were all carefully secured, and no
egress or ingress permitted, till the conclusion of the meal. To this
exclusion, however, the person now seeking admission to the laird's did
not seem willing to submit; for he began to thunder at the gate with an
impetuosity and vehemence that scarcely beseemed his very humble
calling; and, as if this was not enough, he shouted out at the top of
his voice to the inmates to open the gate to him.
Yet, however unbecoming his conduct, or however insolent it may be
thought, it had the desired effect of procuring him the service he
wanted.
The laird himself answered the call, though certainly more for the
purpose of letting out his wrath on the noisy intruder, than to let him
in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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