Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 21
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
"We'll teuk him to the office, to pe surely," said a hard-faced,
red-whiskered Celt. "What else you'll do wi' ta roke that'll proke into
shentleman's hoose, and go to ped as comfortable as a lort. Dam's
impitence."
"Soul, and it's to the office we'll have him, by all manner o' means,
and that in the twinkling of a bedpost," chimed in a tall raw-boned
Irishman, with a spotted cotton handkerchief tied so high around the
lower part of his face as to bury his mouth. "The thaif o' the world.
It's a free passage across the wather he'll now get, anyhow, bad luck to
him."
"Fat, tiel, would you tak the man stark naked through the street?" said
a little thick-set Aberdonian. "It would be verra undecent. There's a
bit cloaky there; throw that aboot his shouthers, and then we'll link
him awa like a water-stoup."
"Od, ye'll no fin that so easy, I'm thinkin!" exclaimed a lumpish,
broad-shouldered young fellow. "He's as fat's a Lochrin distillery pig.
He's a hantle mair like his meat than his wark, that ane."
Hitherto the unfortunate subject of these remarks had been able to take
no part in what was passing; but, stupefied by the blow he had received,
which had covered his face with blood, and further confounded by the
various circumstances of the case--his previous debauch, the violence
and suddenness of his awakening, and the extraordinary clamour and
uproar that surrounded him--he sat, with drooping head and confused
senses, without uttering a word.
His physical energies, however, gradually recovering a little, he began
to stare about him with a look of bewilderment; and at length, fixing
his eye on the Irishman, who happened to be standing directly opposite
him, he addressed him with a--
"Pray, friend, what is the meaning of all this?"
"Faiks, my purty fellow, and it's yourself that might be after guessing
that with your own 'cute genius," replied Paddy. "Haven't you half a
notion, now, of what you have been about the same blessed night?"
"I have a pretty good notion that my house has been broken into by a
parcel of ruffians," said the doctor, "and that I have been half,
perhaps wholly, murdered by you."
"Capital, ould fellow; capital," said the Irishman. "Tell truth, and
shame the devil. Your house! Stick to that, my jewel, and you'll
astonish the spalpeens. But come, come, my tight little mannikin, get up
wid ye. You'll go and have a peep of _our_ house now. Time about's fair
play."
And he seized the doctor, who was now wrapped in his cloak, and was
forcing him from his seat, when the latter, resisting this movement,
called out--
"Does no one here know me? Will no one here protect me? What am I
assailed in my own house in this manner for? My name's Dobbie--Doctor
Dobbie!"
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