Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 06
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 06
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
This was an oblong square, enclosed with stout wooden paling, very
thickly set, on the banks of a beautiful stream. At one side were the
buildings, composed entirely of wood--the forest, which extended as far
as the eye could reach, was at no great distance in the rear--everything
around indicated the greatest plenty of all that was necessary for the
enjoyment of life, as far as food could administer to it; there were
several cows and horses, sleek and fat, feeding under a shed; brood
sows, with numerous progenies; and fowls actually swarming around. The
morning was beautiful; the air, filled with a thousand grateful odours
from the fields, imparting to our young minds a buoyancy we had been
strangers to since we had left our own native shores. Our hasty survey
was made in a few minutes, while we stood waiting further orders. Our
master, who had entered another part of the building, returned,
accompanied by two of the most miserable-looking men I had ever
seen--as wretchedly clad as I was myself, with the exception that they
had broad straw-hats upon their heads. Misery and they seemed to have
been long intimates; my heart sank within me at their appearance; both
had wooden clogs, consisting of a cut of about a foot long from the
branch of a tree, chained to their right leg at the ancle; and this they
carried over their arm. In addition, one of them had a stout collar
round his neck, from which projected three iron hooks, about a foot
from his head. We burst into tears, thinking we were to be similarly
equipped, and would have fled, had flight been possible; all the riches
in the world we would have counted a mean reward to the person who would
have transported us from the tyrant's farm-yard to the beautiful hills
and valleys of Scotland. As they came to where we stood gazing through
our tears, three tall, bony, sallow-looking lads, sons of the
proprietor, issued from the principal building, with implements upon
their shoulders, one of which was given to each of us, and we were now
to begin our work. Before we proceeded, our master said to us, in his
harsh manner--
'Mind ye, lads, you are my bound servants for three years, to do my
will--mayhap for more. If you offer to run away, I will catch you again;
and, besides punishment, dress you so--and he pointed with malicious
triumph to his victims--to prevent your running; and, mark me, for every
day you are absent, you serve me two.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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