Neil Munro

“ Erchie looked too, a little wistfully “I’ll wager ye he has,” said he. “And like enough a guid yin; that’s no’ forgettin’ him, though he may gang on the ran-dan; but in her bed at nicht no’ sleepin’, wonderin’ whit’s come o’ him, and never mindin’ onything that was bad in him, but jist a kind o’ bein’ easy-led, but mindin’ hoo smert he was when he was but a laddie, and hoo he won the prize for composeetion in the school, and hoo prood he was when he brocht hame the first wage he got on a Setturday. ”

“ We’ve been thirty years in the hoose we’re leavin’ the morn, and I’m fair oot o’ the wye o’ flittin’. I micht as weel start the dancin’ again.”
“Thirty years! Your household gods plant a very firm foot, Erchie.”
“Man, ay! If it wisna for Jinnet and her new fandangles, I wad nae mair think o’ flittin’ than o’ buyin’ a balloon to mysel’; but ye ken women! They’re aye gaun to be better aff onywhaur else than whaur they are. I ken different, but I havena time to mak’ it plain to Jinnet.” ”

“ The Institute wasna popular in thae days; it was that quate and secluded that if a chap had done onything wrang and the detectives were efter him he took a season ticket, and spent a’ his days here. Noo, ye can see for yersel’ the place is gaun like an inn. That’s the effect o’ the baun’ and the aifternoon tea. If they added a baby incubator to the attractions the same’s they hae in the East-End Exhibeetion, they would need the Fire Brigade wi’ a hose to keep the croods oot. Ye hae nae idea o’ the fascination Art has for the people o’ Gleska if they’re no’ driven to’t. ”

“ When I got mairried, Duffy, haircloth chairs was a’ the go; the sofas had twa ends to them, and you had to hae six books wi’ different coloured batters spread oot on the paurlor table, wi’ the tap o’ yer weddin’-cake under a gless globe in the middle. Wally dugs on the mantelpiece, worsted things on the chair-backs, a picture o’ John Knox ower the kist o’ drawers, and ‘Heaven Help Our Home’ under the kitchen clock—that was whit Jinnet and me started wi’. There’s mony a man in Gleska the day buyin’ hand-done pictures and wearin’ tile hats to their work that begun jist like that. ”

“ The wife’s kizzen’ll be that gled to see us she’ll mak’ tea for us every half-’oor and send oot each time to the grocer’s for mair o’ thon biled ham ye aye get at burials. I’ll get my feet a’ sair walkin’ up and doon the gairden coontin’ the wife’s kizzen’s aipples that’s no’ richt ripe yet, and Jinnet and me’ll hae to cairry hame a big poke o’ rhuburb or greens, or some ither stuff we’re no wantin’, and the train’ll be an ‘oor late o’ gettin’ into Gleska.
“That’s a holiday. The only time ye enjoy a holiday is when it’s a’ bye.” ”

“ Hard-herted monster—I wad need to be wi’ a wife like you, that canna see a wean oot in the street at nicht withoot the drap at yer e’e. The weans is maybe no’ that bad aff: the nicht air’s no’ waur nor the day air: maybe when they’re oot here they’ll no’ mind they’re hungry.”
“Oh, Erchie! see that puir wee lame yin! God peety him!—I maun gie him a penny,” whispered Jinnet, as a child in rags stopped before a jeweller’s window to look in on a magic world of silver cruet-stands and diamond rings and gold watches. ”

“ Jinnet hurried to explain. “And I got the money a’ richt. But oh! I was that put-aboot. Thon slippy floor aye frichtens me, and the gentlemen inside the coonter in their wee cages like Duffy’s goldy——”
“Goldies—ay, that’s jist whit they are,” said Erchie. “It’s a fine bird a goldie if ye get a guid yin; it can whustle better nor a canary.”
“——like Duffy’s goldie, and that rale weel put-on. Each o’ them had as muckle gold and silver aboot him as wad fill a bakie. I nearly fented when yin o’ them spoke to me awfu’ Englified, and askit whit he could dae for me the day. ”

“ Dae ye think the laddie’s daft, to be in Gleska and no’ come to see his mither?”
“I canna believe he wad dae’t,” said Jinnet, but always looked intently in the face of every young man who passed them.
“Weel, that’s ower for anither Setturday,” said Erchie to himself, resuming his slippers and his spectacles.
“I declare, wife,” said he, “ye’ve forgotten something.”
“Whit is’t?” she asked.
“The sweeties ye went oot for,” said Erchie, solemnly.
“Oh, dear me! amn’t I the silly yin? Thinkin’ on that Willie o’ oors puts everything oot o’ my heid.” ”

“ If Burns had thae advantages, there’s nae’ sayin’ whit he micht hae risen to; perhaps he micht hae become an M.P., and dee’d wi’ money in the bank.”
“Och! there’s worse than Burns,” said Duffy. “I was gey throughither mysel’ when I was a young chap.”
“Ah! but ye couldna hae been that awfu’ bad, for ye never made ony poetry.”
“I never tried,” said Duffy; “I was the youngest o’ nine, and I was put oot to wark early. So there wasna time for me to try and be fancy in ony wye. But a gey wild chap, Burns!”
“Maybe no’ that awfu’ wild,” said Erchie. “Ye’re aye harpin’ on the wild. ”

“ Once I met Duffy, and asked him what had become of the old man.
“Alloo you Erchie!” was all the information he would vouchsafe; “if he’s keepin’ oot o’ sicht, he’ll hae his ain reason for’t. Mind, I’m no’ sayin’ onything against the cratur, though him and me’s had mony a row. He’s a’ richt if ye tak’ him the richt wye. But sly! He’s that sly, the auld yin, ye can whiles see him winkin’ awa’ to himsel’ ower something he kens that naebody else kens, and that he’s no gaun to tell to them. ”

“ It’s no’ the thing at a’ makin’ an exposure. I kent Carlyle fine; he had a wee baker’s shop in Balmano Brae, and his wife made potted heid. It was quite clean; there was naething wrang wi’t. If they quarrelled it was naebody’s business but their ain.
“It’s a gey droll hoose whaur there’s no’ whiles a rippit. Though my fit’s flet my hert’s warm; but even me and Jinnet hae a cast-oot noo and then. I’m aye the mair angry if I ken I’m wrang, and I’ve seen me that bleezin’ bad tempered that I couldna light my pipe, and we wadna speak to ane anither for oors and oors. ”

“ All ye can dae when your wark’s done and ye’ve ta’en your tea’s to put on a pair o’ top-boots and a waterproof, and gang oot in the dark. There’s no’ even a close to coort in, and if ye want to walk alang a country road at nicht thinkin’ hoo much money ye hae in the bank, ye must be gey smert no’ to fa’ into a ditch. Stars? Wha wants to bother glowerin’ at stars? There’s never ony change in the programme wi’ them in the country. If I want stars I gang to the Britannia. ”

“ You little know, Mr MacPherson, the weary hours of study——”
“It’s no’ ile we hae in the room, it’s gas,” said Erchie. “But if ye wad raither hae ile’, say the word and we’ll get it for ye.”
“Gas will do,” said the student; “it is equally conducive to study, and more popular in all great congeries of thought.”
“When dae ye rise in the mornin’, Mr Tod?” asked Jinnet. “I wad like to ken when I should hae your breakfast ready.”
“Rise!” said Tod. “Oh, any time! ”

“ I hate to hear the wye Duffy and some o’ them speak aboot Edinburgh, the same as if it was shut up a’thegither; hoo wad we like it oorsels? I hae maybe a flet fit, but I hae a warm hert, and I’ll aye stick up for Edinburgh. I had an uncle that near got the jyle there for running ower yin o’ their tramway caurs. They’ve no skoosh cars in Edinburgh; they’re thon ither kin’ that’s pu’ed wi’ a rope, and whiles the rope breaks; but it doesna maitter, naebody’s in ony hurry gaun to ony place in Edinburgh, and the passengers jist sit where they are till it’s mended. ”

“ It’s only when ye buy a shillin’ box and sit doon wi’ the wife and weans to consider wha ye’ll send them to that ye fin’ oot whit an awfu’ lot o’ freen’s ye hae. A score o’ shillin’ boxes wadna gae ower half the kizzens I hae, wi’ my grandfaither belangin’ to the Hielan’s, so Jinnet an’ me jist let’s on to some o’ them we’re no’ sendin’ ony cairds oot this year because it’s no’ the kin’ o’ society go ony langer. And ye have aye to keep pairt o’ the box till Ne’erday to send to some o’ the mair parteeclar anes ye forgot a’ thegither were freen’s o’ yours till they sent ye a caird. ”

“ Ye should breenge up to the coonter, and cry ‘Gloves!’ as hard as Duffy cries ‘Coals!’ then sit doon withoot askin’ on a chair, and wi’ a gant noo and then watch them puttin’ oot gloves by the hunderwicht in front o’ ye, and them a’ in the shakers in case ye’ll no’ think they’re smert enough.
“Dinna be blate; that’s my advice to ye. Talk Englified yersel’, and sniff wi’ yer nose noo and then as if ye felt a nesty smell in the place, and run doon the goods like dirt. Never let your e’e rest on the folk that serve ye, unless they happen to hae a shabby tie on or a button aff somewhere ”

“ Erchie took them in to him, and found him groaning with a headache.
“The dew’s awfu’ late on the high eastern hills this mornin’, Mr Tod,” said Erchie. “Losh, ye’re as gash as the Laird o’ Garscadden! I’m feart ye’re studyin’ far ower hard; it’s no’ for the young and growin’ to be hurtin’ their heids wi’ nicht-schools and day-schools; ye should whiles tak’ a bit rest to yersel’. And no’ a bit o’ yer breakfast touched! Mrs MacPherson’ll no’ be the pleased woman wi’ ye this day, I can tell ye!” ”

“ Ye should try yer hand at takin’ oot the wife for a walk, jist for the novelty o’ the thing.”
“Catch me!” said Duffy. “She wad see ower mony things in the shop windows she was needin’. I was jist wonderin’ whether I wad buy a ‘Weekly Mail’ or gang to the fitba’ match at Parkheid.”
Erchie looked pityingly at him. “A fitba’ match!” said he. “Whit’s the use o’ gaun to a fitba’ match when ye can see a’ aboot it in the late edeetion? Forbye, a fitba’ match doesna improve the mind; it’s only sport. I’ll tell ye whit I’ll dae wi’ ye if ye’re game. I’ll tak’ ye to the Art Institute ”

“ I’m shair I aye tellt Erchie a wife was sair wanted in your hoose since Maggie dee’d.”
“Jist at the very time I was thrangest,” said Duffy, with regret. “I was awfu’ chawed at her.”
“Ye’ll hae to bring yer lass up to see me and Erchie some nicht,” said Jinnet. “It’s a tryin’ time the mairryin’.”
“There faur ower mony palavers aboot it,” confided the coalman. “I wish it was ower and done wi’, and I could get wearin’ my grauvit at nicht again. Leezie’s awfu’ pernicketty aboot me haein’ on a collar when we gang for a walk.”
“Oh, ye rascal!” said Jinnet roguishly. “You men! you men! ”

“ I’ll gie him’t when I see him, to be givin’ us such a fricht.”
“No’ that wee, Erchie,” said Jinnet. “He’s bigger than yersel’.”
“So he is, the rascal! am I no’ aye thinkin’ o’ him jist aboot the age he was when he was at the Sunday school.”
“Hoo lang is’t since we heard o’ him, Erchie?”
“Three or four years, or maybe five,” said Erchie, quickly. “Man! the wye time slips bye! It doesna look like mair nor a twelvemonth.”
“It looks to me like twenty year,” said Jinnet, “and it’s naething less than seeven, for it was the year o’ Annie’s weddin’, and her wee Alick’s six at Mertinmas. ”

“ Jinnet said it was a bonny-like thing spilin’ Sarah’s chances for the sake o’ a shillin’ or twa.
“So that’s the wye I was wi’ the Clachnacudden chats. Dae ye no’ feel the smell o’ peat-reek aff me? If it wasna that my feet were flet I could gie ye the Hielan’ Fling.
“But thae natives’ reunions in Gleska’s no’ whit they used to be. They’re gettin’ far ower genteel. It’ll soon be comin’ to’t that ye’ll no’ can gang to ony o’ them unless ye have a gold watch and chain, a dress suit, and £10 in the Savin’s Bank. ”

“ I’m my lee-lane, me and Annie; if ony o’ thae chaps cam’ efter Annie, I wad chase him doon the stair.’
“‘Man! Duffy,’ I says till him, ‘ye’re selfish enough workin’ aff a’ them ornamental dochters on the young men o’ Gleska that did ye nae hairm, and keepin’ the best o’ the hale jing-bang in the hoose a’ the time in case they see her.’
“‘Let them tak’ it!’ says Duffy, ‘I’m no’ a bit vexed for them,’ and he started to sing ‘Dark Lochnagar’ as lood as ever, while Annie was puttin’ on his boots. ”

“ Thae cairters divna ken their ain strength.
“It’s a humblin’ sicht your ain flittin’ when ye see’t on the tap o’ a coal-lorry.”
“Quite so, Erchie; chiffoniers are like a good many reputations—they look all right so long as you don’t get seeing the back of them.”
“And cairters hae nane o’ the finer feelin’s, I think. In spite o’ a’ that Jinnet could dae, they left the pots and pans a’ efternoon on the pavement, and hurried the plush chairs up the stair at the first gae-aff. A thing like that’s disheartenin’ to ony weel-daein’ woman. ”

“ He came up the stair with two bags for Jinnet, who was one of his customers.
“Whit wye are they up a bawbee the day?” says she.
“It’s because o’ the Americans dumpin’,” said Duffy. “They’re takin’ a’ the tred frae us, and there’s a kind o’ tariff war.”
“Bless me!, is there, anither war?” said Jinnet. “Weel, they’re gettin’ a fine day for’t onywye. I hope it’ll no’ put up the price o’ the mulk.”
Duffy looked at her and laughed uneasily. “I’m kind o’ aff the mulk diet the noo,” he said, seeing disguise was useless. “Ye’re gey gleg, you weemen. ”

“ I only went there mysel’ to see if I could get her to come hame as lang as she had enough left to pay her fare on the skoosh car, but I micht as weel speak to the wind. She was fair raised ower a bargain in rabbits. It’s an awfu’ thing when yer wife tak’s to bazaars; it’s waur nor drink.
“It’s a female complaint; ye’ll no’ find mony men bothered wi’t unless they happen to be ministers. Ye’ll no’ see Duffy sittin’ late at nicht knittin’ wee bootees for weans they’ll never in this warld fit, nor crochetin’ doyleys, to aid the funds o’ the Celtic Fitba’ Club. ”

“ There should be missionaries sent ower to Edinburgh explainin’ things to the puir deluded craturs. Ony folk that wad put thon big humplock o’ a hill they ca’ the Castle in the middle o’ the street, spilin’ the view, and hing their washin’s on hay-rakes stuck oot at their windows, hae muckle to learn.”
“Still, I have no doubt Edinburgh’s doing its best, Erchie,” I said.
“Maybe, but they’re no’ smert; ye wad hae yer pouch picked half a dizzen times in Gleska in the time an Edinburgh polisman tak’s to rub his een to waken himsel’ when ye ask him the road to Leith. ”