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
Well, gentlemen (continued the little hump-backed man in the bright
yellow waistcoat), here was a pretty finish to all our bright
anticipations! For some time, indeed, we entertained hopes that the
reports, especially the last, might be false; but, alas! they turned out
too true. True, true were they, to the letter. My father, unwilling to
believe that all was lost, called upon a lawyer in the town where we
resided, who had a good deal to do with our late relative's affairs;
and, after mentioning to him the footing we were on with the deceased,
and the expectations he had led us to indulge in, inquired if _nothing_
would arise to us from Mr. Hairsplitter's effects.
"Not a rap!" was the laconic and dignified reply--"not a cross, not
a cowrie! You haven't a shadow of claim to anything. All that Mr.
Hairsplitter may have said goes for nothing, as it is not down in black
and white, in legal phrase."
So, my friends (said the narrator, with a sigh) here was an end to this
fortune and to my luck, at that bout, at any rate. Still, gentlemen
(went on the little hump-backed man in the bright yellow waistcoat), I
maintain there was luck in the caul.
I was now, you must know, my friends, getting up in years--that is to
say, I was now somewhere about one-and-twenty. Well, my father, thinking
it full time that I should be put in a way of doing something for
myself, applied, in my behalf, to a certain nobleman who resided in our
neighbourhood, and who was under obligations to my father for some
election services. When my father called on the peer alluded to, and
informed him of his object--"Why, sir," said his lordship, "this is
rather a fortunate circumstance for both of us. I am just now in want of
precisely such a young man as you describe your son to be, to act as my
secretary and amanuensis, and will therefore be very glad to employ
him." His lordship then mentioned his terms. They were liberal, and, of
course, instantly accepted. This settled, my father was desired to send
me to Cram Hall, his lordship's residence, next day, to enter on my new
duties.
Here, then, you see, was luck at last, gentlemen (said the little
hump-backed gentleman in the bright yellow waistcoat); for the nobleman
was powerful, and there was no saying what he might do for me. Next day,
accordingly, I repaired to Cram Hall with a beating, but exulting heart;
for I was at once proud of my employment, and terrified for my employer,
who was, I knew, a dignified, pompous, vain, conceited personage.
"Show off your Latin to him, Dick, my boy," said my father, before I set
out: "it will give him a good opinion of your talents and erudition." I
promised that I would.
Well, on being introduced to his lordship, he received me with the most
affable condescension; but there was something about his affability, I
thought, which made it look extremely like as if it had been assumed for
the purpose of showing how a great man could descend.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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