Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 08
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"I once knew as little of the matter as you," said he, "but this I know
now were none but the really needy to ask charity, they would soon be
supplied, and fare well, but it is too good a trade, once begun, to be
given up easily. But here is Betsy, to tell us dinner is ready."
The repast did honour to her cooking, and consisted of the best the town
could afford. She herself sat at table, more lady-like than I thought it
possible a gipsy girl could have done.
"Bill," says I, "if your trade were as honourable as it appears to be
profitable, I would commence it this night."
"And what is more dishonourable in it, than any other calling a man may
choose to live by?" said the young wife, with a smile. "Is not the
whole bent of every one's mind to get as much from every one of his
fellow-men as he can? Does not the king and his ministers get all they
can from the people by taxation? Do not the ministers of the church get
all they can from their flocks? Do not the lairds get all they can for
their lands, the merchant get all he can for his goods, and the poor man
get all he can for his labour? Real utility or value enters not into
their minds at bargain-making. It is how they can get most of their
neighbour's property, in the safest and easiest manner. What is honour
but a fluctuating opinion? As I have heard my father say when he spoke
the words I am now uttering--it is honourable for kings to take their
subjects from their peaceful employments, and send them to plunder and
destroy other states, it is honourable to be one of the plunderers; for
one man to shoot another for some trifling word is honourable. Every
nation has its own notions of this same thing called honour. But we of
the wandering tribe think it means gold, for he that has got the most of
it is the most esteemed, and he that has not a penny in his purse has
not a jot of honour, though he had all the virtues. And why? Because,
from the king to the beggar, no one can expect to add to their store
from him. He is an egg already eaten--an empty shell; and, as such,
crushed and thrown aside. These are the words of my father."
I heard the bewitching creature with astonishment, and could not but
admire how easily every class finds consolation to themselves, by
arguing as it suits their views. I had often before remarked, that when
numbers of any class associated, they rose in their own estimation; but
I had no idea that the beggars carried it so far.
"But it is under deceit and false pretence," said I, to enjoy the
pleasure of hearing her speak, "you extort money from the humane and
charitable. I would rather work to the death."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account