Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 20
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 20
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"Nancy," said he, "I never was worthy of such a wife. But neither look
on me, nor speak to me with kindness. I have brought you to beggary--I
have brought my family to beggary--and I have brought myself to
everlasting misery and despair!"
"O my dear!" said she, "dinna talk in such a heathen-like manner. If it
be the case that we have lost all that we had, there is no help for it
now; but I trust, and am assured, that ye will not have lost it in such
a way as to make your family hang their head among folk, in remembrance
of their faither's transaction. I am certain, already, that it is your
foolish disposition to be everybody's friend, that has brought this upon
ye. A thousand times have I warned ye of what, some day or other, would
be the upshot; but ye would take no admonition from me."
"Oh!" added he, "I have misery enough, and more than enough, without
your aggravating it by your dagger-drawing reflections."
He sat groaning, throughout the night, with his hand upon his brow; but
the real cause of his misery he would not explain, farther than that he
had brought himself and his family to ruin. But, with sunrise, the tale
of our undoing was on every tongue; and all its particulars, and more
than all, were not long in being conveyed to us. For a tale of distress
hath the power of taking unto itself wings, and every wind of heaven
will echo it, let it come whence it may, and let it go where it may. I
beheld, and I heard my mother doomed to receive the doleful
_congratulations_ of her friends--the prompt expression of their
sympathy for her calamities. It was the first time, and it was the last,
that many of them ever felt for human wo. But there are people in this
world, who delight to go abroad with the tidings of tribulation on their
tongue, and whose chief pleasure is to act the part of Job's comforters,
or, I might say, of his messengers.
We learned that my father's bosom friend, the professedly wealthy and
pious manufacturer, had been declared a bankrupt, and that my father had
become liable on his account to the amount of two thousand pounds. His
unguided generosity had previously compelled him to mortgage his
property, and this calamity swallowed it up. Never will I forget the
calmness, I might call it the philosophy, with which my mother received
the tidings.
"I am glad," said she to the individual who first communicated to her
the tidings, "that my children will have no cause to blush for their
father's misfortunes; and I would rather endure the privations which
those misfortunes may bring upon us, than feel the pangs of his
conscience who has brought them upon his friend."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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