Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 10
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
I had been about fifteen years in business, when I became bond, for a
friend that I thought I could have trusted as my own brother, to the
extent o' three thousand pounds. I was certain he was perfectly solvent,
and from the acquaintance I had had o' him, I could nae mair hae doubted
him than I could hae doubted that I was the son o' my mother. But a few
weeks after I had signed the bond, a mutual acquaintance called upon me,
and, says he--
"Grant, you have acted like a fool."
"I dinna doubt," says I, for I was perfectly aware that I often had;
"but what do ye mean to be at?"
"Why," says he, "So-and-so has taken you in. He is preparing to be off,
bag and baggage, for America, and you will be left to pay the piper."
"Oh, ye are a suspicious wretch," says I; "man, I couldna believe the
like o' that if ye were to swear it to me."
"Believe it or not," says he, "if you don't see after it instantly, your
three thousand pounds are gone."
"Hoot! babbles!" said I, "the man's daft!--do ye think I dinna ken him
better than that? The man is as sure as the bank. I would be the last
man he would injure a farthing--I ken that weel aneugh. But, at ony
rate, I am particularly busy, and I canna be fashed wi' ony nonsense o'
the kind; so ye may keep yoursel easy, and I am only sorry that ye
should hae such an opinion o' ony friend o' mine."
"Canna be fashed!" cried my acquaintance, hurrying from the shop; "what
a deuced fool! Grant, you'll repent it."
I laughed at the man; for I had perfect confidence in my friend, and I
knew that he had property worth three times the money that I was bond
for him.
On the very next day, the same acquaintance came into my house very
hastily, and says he--
"Grant, if you don't look after your money, and that very sharply, you
will find your friend's property is no go, and you are in for paying the
three thousand."
"Ye dinna mean to say the like o' that?" said I.
"Say that, you blockhead!" returned my acquaintance--"wherefore wouldn't
you believe me yesterday?" And placing his arm through mine, he dragged
me out o' the house. We reached the habitation o' the worthy gentleman
for whom I was surety in the sum o' three thousand precious pounds
sterling. But he was off--off like a bird whose nest has been robbed o'
its eggs. Twelve hours before, he had sailed for America, or some other
quarter o' the globe; but where I never knew.
"Come home, Grant," said my friend, "don't distress yourself now."
"Oh, dinna speak to me," says I--"I canna be fashed; my three thousand
pounds!--my poor three thousand pounds!"
We went into a tavern, and I drank out o' pure desperation until I could
hardly stand; and as we were going home I fell, and I dislocated my arm,
or I broke it; at ony rate I did something to it, and it never was like
to get better; and my friends advised me to send for a surgeon--but----
"What to do wi' a surgeon?" says I; "I canna be fashed wi' them. The arm
will get better itsel."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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