Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11 — John Shaqi
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 11
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
Weel, as his mother, puir woman, had enough to do, and couldna keep
him in idleness, and as there was naething for him in Annan, he went
to Edinburgh to see what would cast up, and what his talents and
education would do for him there. He had recommendations from several
gentlemen, and also from myself. But month after month passed on, and
he was like to hear of nothing. His mother was becoming extremely
unhappy on his account, and the more so because he had given up
writing, which astonished me a great deal, for I could not divine the
cause of such conduct as not to write to his own mother, to say that
he was well or what he was doing; and I was the more surprised at it,
because of the excellent opinion I had entertained of his character
and disposition. However, I think it would be about six months after
he had left, I received a letter from him; and, as that letter is of
importance in giving you an account of his history, I shall just step
along to the school for it, where I have it carefully placed in my
desk, and shall bring it and any other papers that I think may be
necessary in giving you an account of your other schoolfellows.
Thus saying, Dominie Grierson, taking up his three-cornered hat and
silver-mounted walking-stick, stalked out of the room. And, as people
generally like to have some idea of the sort of person who is telling
them a story, I shall here describe to them the appearance of Mr
Grierson. He was a fine-looking old man, about five feet nine inches
high; his age might be about threescore and fifteen, and he was a
bachelor. His hair was as white as the driven snow, yet as fresh and
as thick as though he had been but thirty. His face was pale. He could
not properly be called corpulent, but his person had an inclination
that way. His shoes were fastened with large silver buckles; he wore a
pair of the finest black lamb's-wool stockings; breeches of the same
colour, fastened at the knees by buckles similar to those in his
shoes. His coat and waistcoat were also black, and both were
exceedingly capacious; for the former, with its broad skirts, which
descended almost to his heels, would have made a greatcoat now-a-days;
and in the kingly flaps of the latter, which defended his loins, was
cloth enough and to spare to have made a modern vest. This, with the
broad-brimmed, round-crowned, three-cornered hat, already referred to,
a pair of spectacles, and the silver-mounted cane, completed the
outward appearance of Dominie Grierson, with the exception of his
cambric handkerchief, which was whiter than his own locks, and did
credit to the cleanliness of his housekeeper, and her skill as a
laundress.
In a few moments he returned, with Sandy's letter and other papers in
his hand, and, helping himself to another glass of wine, he rubbed the
glass of his spectacles with his handkerchief, and said--
"Now, doctor, here is poor Sandy's letter; listen, and ye shall hear
it."--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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