“O haud away frae me,” she said,“I pray you let me be!Hae you the shares ye held, my lord,What time ye courted me?“’Tis woman’s weird to luve and pine,And man’s is to forget:Hold you the shares, Lord James,” she said,“Or hae ye sold them yet?”“My York Extensions, bought at par,I sold at seven pund prem.—And, O my heart is sair to thinkI had nae mair of them!”
“O haud away frae me,” she said,“I pray you let me be!Hae you the shares ye held, my lord,What time ye courted me?“’Tis woman’s weird to luve and pine,And man’s is to forget:Hold you the shares, Lord James,” she said,“Or hae ye sold them yet?”“My York Extensions, bought at par,I sold at seven pund prem.—And, O my heart is sair to thinkI had nae mair of them!”
“That is really a remarkable girl!” thought I, as I stropped my razor. “Such genius, such animation, and such a thorough knowledge of the market! She would make a splendid wife for a railway director.”
“Come away, Mr Dunshunner,” said the Provost, as I entered the parlour. “I hope ye are yaup, for ye have a lang day’s wark before ye.”
“I am sure it would be an agreeable one, sir, ifaccompanied with such sweet music as I heard this morning. Pardon me, Miss Binkie, but you really are a perfect Sappho.”
“You are too good, I am sure, Mr Dunshunner. Will you take tea or coffee?”
“Maggie,” said the Provost, “I maun put a stop to that skirling—it’s well eneuch for the night, but the morning is the time for business. Mr Dunshunner, I’ve been thinking over this job of ours, and here is a bit listie of the maist influential persons in Dreepdaily, that you maun positeevely see this day. They wad be affronted if they kenned ye were here without calling on them. Noo, mark me,—I dinna just say that ony o’ them is the folk ye ken o’, but it’s no ava unlikely; sae ye maun even use yer ain discretion. Tak an auld man’s word for it, and aye put your best fit foremost.”
I acquiesced in the justice of the suggestion, although I was really unconscious which foot deserved the precedence. The Provost continued—
“Just ae word mair. Promising is a cheap thing, and ye needna be very sparing of it. If onybody speaks to ye about a gaugership, or a place in the Customs or the Post-office, just gie ye a bit wink, tak out your note-book, and make a mark wi’ the keelavine pen. It aye looks weel, and gangs as far as a downright promise. Deny or refuse naebody. Let them think that ye can do everything wi’ the Ministry; and if there should happen to be a whaupin the rape, let them even find it out theirsells. Tell them that ye stand up for Dreepdaily, and its auld charter, and the Whig constitution, and liberal principles. Maist feck o’ them disna ken what liberal principles is, but they like the word. I whiles think that liberal principles means saying muckle and doing naething, but you needna tell them that. The Whigs are lang-headed chiells, and they hae had the sense to claim a’ the liberality for themsells, ever since the days o’ the Reform Bill.”
Such and suchlike were the valuable maxims which Provost Binkie instilled into my mind during the progress of breakfast. I must say they made a strong impression upon me; and any candidate who may hereafter come forward for the representation of a Scottish burgh, on principles similar to my own, would do well to peruse and remember them.
At length I rose to go.
“Do I carry your good wishes along with me, Miss Binkie, on my canvass?”
“Most cordially, Mr Dunshunner; I shall be perfectly miserable until I learn your success. I can assure you of my support, and earnestly wish I was an elector.”
“Enviable would be the Member of Parliament who could represent so charming a constituency!”
“Oh, Mr Dunshunner!”
Directed by the Provost’s list, I set forth insearch of my constituency. The first elector whose shop I entered was a draper of the name M’Auslan. I found him in the midst of his tartans.
“Mr M’Auslan, I presume?”
“Ay,” was the curt response.
“Allow me to introduce myself, sir. My name is Dunshunner.”
“Oh.”
“You are probably aware, sir, that I am a candidate for the representation of these burghs?”
“Ay.”
“I hope and trust, Mr M’Auslan, that my principles are such as meet with your approbation?”
“Maybe.”
“I am a friend, sir, to civil and religious liberty,—to Dreepdaily and its charter,—to the old Whig constitution of 1688,—and to the true interests of the people.”
“Weel?”
“Confound the fellow!” thought I, “was there ever such an insensate block? I must bring him to the point at once. Mr M’Auslan,” I continued in a very insinuating tone, “such being my sentiments, may I venture to calculate on your support?”
“There’s twa words to that bargain,” replied M’Auslan, departing from monosyllables.
“Any further explanation that may be required, I am sure will readily—”
“It’s nae use.”
“How?” said I, a good deal alarmed. “Is it possible you are already pledged?”
“No.”
“Then what objection——”
“I made nane. I see ye dinna ken us here. The pear’s no ripe yet.”
“What pear?” asked I, astonished at this horticultural allusion.
“Hark ye,” said M’Auslan, looking stealthily around him, and for the first time exhibiting some marks of intelligence in his features—“Hark ye,—hae ye seen Toddy Tam yet?”
“Mr Gills? Not yet. I am just going to wait upon him; but Provost Binkie has promised me his support.”
“Wha cares for Provost Binkie! Gang to Toddy Tam.”
Not one other word could I extract from the oracular M’Auslan; so, like a pilgrim, I turned my face towards Mecca, and sallied forth in quest of this all-important personage. On my way, however, I entered the house of another voter, one Shanks, a member of the Town-Council, from whom I received equally unsatisfactory replies. He, like M’Auslan, pointed steadily towards Toddy Tam. Now, who and what was the individual who, by the common consent of his townsmen, had earned so honourable an epithet?
Mr Thomas Gills had at one time been a clerk inthe office of the departed Linklater. His function was not strictly legal, nor confined to the copying of processes: it had a broader and wider scope, and was exercised in a more congenial manner. In short, Mr Gills was a kind of provider for the establishment. His duties were to hunt out business; which he achieved to a miracle by frequenting every possible public-house, and wringing from them, amidst their cups, the stories of the wrongs of his compotators. Wo to the wight who sate down for an afternoon’s conviviality with Toddy Tam! Before the mixing of the fourth tumbler, the ingenious Gills was sure to elicit some hardship or grievance, for which benignant Themis could give redress; and rare, indeed, was the occurrence of the evening on which he did not capture some additional clients. He would even go the length of treating his victim, when inordinately shy, until the fatal mandate was given, and retraction utterly impossible.
Such decided business talents, of course, were not overlooked by the sagacious Laurence Linklater. Gills enjoyed a large salary, the greater moiety of which he consumed in alcoholic experiments; and shortly before the decease of his patron, he was promoted to the lucrative and easy office of some county registrarship. He now began to cultivate conviviality for its own especial sake. It was no longer dangerous to drink with him; for though, from habit, he continued to poke into grievances, henever, on the following morning, pursued the subject further. But what was most remarkable about Toddy Tam was, his independence. He never truckled to dictation from any quarter; but, whilst Binkie and the rest were in fear and terror of the Clique, he openly defied that body, and dared them to do their worst. He was the only man in Dreepdaily who ventured to say that Tom Gritt was right in the motion he had made; and he further added, that if he, Thomas Gills, had been in the Town-Council, the worthy and patriotic baker should not have wanted a seconder. This was considered a very daring speech, and one likely to draw down the vengeance of the unrelenting junta: but the thunder slept in the cloud, and Mr Gills enjoyed himself as before.
I found him in his back parlour, in company with a very rosy individual. Although it was not yet noon, a case-bottle and glasses were on the table, and the whole apartment stunk abominably with the fumes of whisky.
“Sit in, Mr Dunshunner, sit in!” said Toddy Tam, in a tone of great cordiality, after I had effected my introduction. “Ye’ll no hae had your morning yet? Lass, bring in a clean glass for the gentleman.”
“I hope you will excuse me, Mr Gills. I really never do—”
“Hoots—nonsense! Ye maun be neighbour-like,ye ken—we a’ expect it at Dreepdaily.” And so saying, Toddy Tam poured me out a full glass of spirits. I had as lieve have swallowed ink, but I was forced to constrain myself and bolt it.
“Ay, and so ye are coming round to us as a candidate, are ye? What d’ye think o’ that, Mr Thamson—hae ye read Mr Dunshunner’s address?”
The rubicund individual chuckled, leered, and rose to go, but Toddy Tam laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
“Sit ye down man,” he said; “I’ve naething to say to Mr Dunshunner that the hail warld may not hear, nor him to me neither, I hope.”
“Certainly not,” said I; “and I really should feel it as a great obligation if Mr Thomson would be kind enough to remain.”
“That’s right, lad!” shouted Gills. “Nae hole-and-corner work for me! A’ fair and abune board, and the deil fly away with the Clique!”
Had Thomson been an ordinary man, he probably would have grown pale at this daring objurgation: as it was, he fidgetted in his chair, and his face became a shade more crimson.
“Weel, now,” continued Toddy Tam, “let us hear what Mr Dunshunner has got to say for himsel’. There’s naething like hearing opinions before we put ony questions.”
Thus adjured, I went through the whole of my political confession of faith, laying, of course, duestress upon the great and glorious Revolution of 1688, and my devotion to the cause of liberality. Toddy Tam and his companion heard me to the end without interruption.
“Gude—sae far gude, Mr Dunshunner,” said Gills. “I see little to objeck to in your general principles; but for a’ that I’m no going to pledge mysel’ until I ken mair o’ ye. I hope, sir, that ye’re using nae underhand influence—that there has been nae communings with the Clique, a body that I perfeckly abominate? Dreepdaily shall never be made a pocket burrow, so long as Thomas Gills has any influence in it.”
I assured Mr Gills, what was the naked truth, that I had no knowledge whatever of the Clique.
“Ye see, Mr Dunshunner,” continued Toddy Tam, “we are a gey and independent sort of people here, and we want to be independently represented. My gude friend, Mr Thamson here, can tell you that I have had a sair fecht against secret influence, and I am amaist feared that some men like the Provost owe me a grudge for it. He’s a pawkie loon, the Provost, and kens brawly how to play his cards.”
“He’s a’ that!” ejaculated Thomson.
“But I dinna care a snuff of tobacco for the haill of the Town-Council, or the Clique. Give me a man of perfeck independence, and I’ll support him. I voted for the last member sair against my conscience,for he was put up by the Clique, and never came near us: but I hope better things frae you, Mr Dunshunner, if you should happen to be returned. Mind, I don’t say that I am going to support ye—I maun think about it: but if ye are a good man and a true, and no a nominee, I dare say that both my gude freend Thamson, and mysell, will no objeck to lend you a helping-hand.”
This was all I could extract from Toddy Tam, and, though favourable, it was far from being satisfactory. There was a want, from some cause or another, of that cordial support which I had been led to anticipate; and I almost felt half inclined to abandon the enterprise altogether. However, after having issued my address, this would have looked like cowardice. I therefore diligently prosecuted my canvass, and contrived, in the course of the day, to encounter a great portion of the electors. Very few pledged themselves. Some surly independents refused point-blank, alleging that they did not intend to vote at all: others declined to promise, until they should know how Toddy Tam and other magnates were likely to go. My only pledges were from the sworn retainers of the Provost.
“Well, Mr Dunshunner, what success?” cried Miss Margaret Binkie, as I returned rather jaded from my circuit. “I hope you have found all the Dreepdaily people quite favourable?”
“Why no, Miss Binkie, not quite so much so asI could desire. Your townsmen here seem uncommonly slow in making up their minds to anything.”
“Oh, that is always their way. I have heard Papa say that the same thing took place at last election, and that nobody declared for Mr Whistlerigg until the very evening before the nomination. So you see you must not lose heart.”
“If my visit to Dreepdaily should have no other result, Miss Binkie, I shall always esteem it one of the most fortunate passages of my life, since it has given me the privilege of your acquaintance.”
“Oh, Mr Dunshunner! How can you speak so? I am afraid you are a great flatterer!” replied Miss Binkie, pulling at the same time a sprig of geranium to pieces. “But you look tired—pray take a glass of wine.”
“By no means, Miss Binkie. A word from you is a sufficient cordial. Happy geranium!” said I, picking up the petals.
Now I know very well that all this sort of thing is wrong, and that a man has no business to begin flirtations if he cannot see his way to the end of them. At the same time, I hold the individual who dislikes flirtations to be a fool; and sometimes they are utterly irresistible.
“Now, Mr Dunshunner, I do beg you won’t! Pray sit down on the sofa, for I am sure you are tired; and if you like to listen, I shall sing you a little ballad I have composed to-day.”
“I would rather hear you sing than an angel,” said I; “but pray do not debar me the privilege of standing by your side.”
“Just as you please;” and Margaret began to rattle away on the harpsichord.
“O whaur hae ye been, Augustus, my son?O whaur hae ye been, my winsome young man?I hae been to the voters—Mither, mak my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ canvassing, and fain wad lay me doun.O whaur are your plumpers, Augustus, my son?O whaur are your split votes, my winsome young man?They are sold to the Clique—Mither, mak my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ canvassing, and fain wad lay me doun.O I fear ye are cheated, Augustus, my son,O I fear ye are done for, my winsome young man!‘I hae been to my true love——’”
“O whaur hae ye been, Augustus, my son?O whaur hae ye been, my winsome young man?I hae been to the voters—Mither, mak my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ canvassing, and fain wad lay me doun.O whaur are your plumpers, Augustus, my son?O whaur are your split votes, my winsome young man?They are sold to the Clique—Mither, mak my bed soon,For I’m weary wi’ canvassing, and fain wad lay me doun.O I fear ye are cheated, Augustus, my son,O I fear ye are done for, my winsome young man!‘I hae been to my true love——’”
I could stand this no longer.
“Charming, cruel girl!” cried I, dropping on one knee,—“why will you thus sport with my feelings? Where else should I seek for my true love but here?”
I don’t know what might have been the sequel of the scene, had not my good genius, in the shape of Mysie the servant girl, at this moment burst into the apartment. Miss Binkie with great presence of mind dropped her handkerchief, which afforded me an excellent excuse for recovering my erect position.
Mysie was the bearer of a billet, addressed to myself, and marked “private and particular.” I opened it and read as follows:—
“Sir—Some of those who are well disposed towards you have arranged to meet this night, and are desirous of a private interview, at which full and mutual explanations may be given. It may be right to mention to you that the question ofthe currencywill form the basis of any political arrangement; and it is expected that you will then be prepared to state explicitly your views with regard tobullion. Somethingmore than pledgesupon this subject will be required.“As this meeting will be a strictly private one, the utmost secresy must be observed. Be on the bridge at eleven o’clock this night, and you will be conducted to the appointed place. Do not fail, as you value your own interest.—Yours, &c.“Shell Out.”
“Sir—Some of those who are well disposed towards you have arranged to meet this night, and are desirous of a private interview, at which full and mutual explanations may be given. It may be right to mention to you that the question ofthe currencywill form the basis of any political arrangement; and it is expected that you will then be prepared to state explicitly your views with regard tobullion. Somethingmore than pledgesupon this subject will be required.
“As this meeting will be a strictly private one, the utmost secresy must be observed. Be on the bridge at eleven o’clock this night, and you will be conducted to the appointed place. Do not fail, as you value your own interest.—Yours, &c.
“Shell Out.”
“Who brought this letter, Mysie?” said I, considerably flustered at its contents.
“A laddie. He said there was nae answer, and ran awa’.”
“No bad news, I hope, Mr Dunshunner?” said Margaret timidly.
I looked at Miss Binkie. Her eye was still sparkling, and her cheek flushed. She evidently was annoyed at the interruption, and expected a renewal of the conversation. But I felt that I had gone quite far enough, if not a little beyond the line of prudence. It is easy to make a declaration,but remarkably difficult to back out of it; and I began to think that, upon the whole, I had been a little too precipitate. On the plea, therefore, of business, I emerged into the open air; and, during a walk of a couple of miles, held secret communing with myself.
“Here you are again, Dunshunner, my fine fellow, putting your foot into it as usual! If it had not been for the arrival of the servant, you would have been an engaged man at this moment, and saddled with a father-in-law in the shape of a vender of molasses. Besides, it is my private opinion that you don’t care sixpence about the girl. But it is the old story. This is the third time since Christmas that you have been on the point of committing matrimony; and if you don’t look sharp after yourself, you will be sold an especial bargain! Now, frankly and fairly, do you not acknowledge yourself to be an idiot?”
I did. Men are generally very candid and open in their confessions to themselves; and the glaring absurdity of my conduct was admitted without any hesitation. I resolved to mend my ways accordingly, and to eschew for the future all tête-à-têtes with the too fascinating Maggie Binkie. That point disposed of, I returned to the mysterious missive. To say the truth, I did not much like it. Had these been the days of Burking, I should have entertained some slight personal apprehension;but as there was no such danger, I regarded it either as a hoax, or as some electioneeringruse, the purpose of which I could not fathom. However, as it is never wise to throw away any chance, I determined to keep the appointment; and, if a meeting really were held, to give the best explanations in my power to my correspondent, Mr Shell Out, and his friends. In this mood of mind I returned to the Provost’s dwelling.
The dinner that day was not so joyous as before. Old Binkie questioned me very closely as to the result of my visits, and seemed chagrined that Toddy Tam had not been more definite in his promises of support.
“Ye maun hae Tam,” said the Provost. “He disna like the Clique—I hope naebody’s listening—nor the Clique him; but he stands weel wi’ the Independents, and the Seceders will go wi’ him to a man. We canna afford to lose Gills. I’ll send ower for him, and see if we canna talk him into reason. Haith, though, we’ll need mair whisky, for Tam requires an unco deal of slockening!”
Tam, however, proved to be from home, and therefore the Provost and I were left to our accustomed duet. He complained grievously of my abstemiousness, which for divers reasons I thought it prudent to observe. An extra tumbler might again have made Miss Binkie a cherub in my eyes.
I am afraid that the young lady thought me a very changeable person. When the Provost fell asleep, she allowed the conversation to languish, until it reached that awful degree of pause which usually precedes the popping of the question. But this time I was on my guard, and held out with heroic stubbornness. I did not even launch out upon the subject of poetry, which Maggie rather cleverly introduced; for there is a decided affinity between the gay science and the tender passion, and it is difficult to preserve indifference when quoting from the “Loves of the Angels.” I thought it safer to try metaphysics. It is not easy to extract an amorous avowal, even by implication, from a discourse upon the theory of consciousness; and I flatter myself that Kant, if he could have heard me that evening, would have returned home with some novel lights upon the subject. Miss Binkie seemed to think that I might have selected a more congenial theme; for she presently exhibited symptoms of pettishness, took up a book, and applied herself diligently to the perusal of a popular treatise upon knitting.
Shortly afterwards, the Provost awoke, and his daughter took occasion to retire. She held out her hand to me with rather a reproachful look, but, though sorely tempted, I did not indulge in a squeeze.
“That’s a fine lassie—a very fine lassie!” remarkedthe Provost, as he severed a Welsh rabbit into twain. “Ye are no a family man yet, Mr Dunshunner, and ye maybe canna comprehend what a comfort she has been to me. I’m auld now, and a thocht failing; but it is a great relief to me to ken that, when I am in my grave, Maggie winna be tocherless. I’ve laid up a braw nest-egg for her ower at the bank yonder.”
I of course coincided in the praise of Miss Binkie, but showed so little curiosity as to the contents of the indicated egg, that the Provost thought proper to enlighten me, and hinted at eight thousand pounds. It is my positive belief that the worthy man expected an immediate proposal: if so, he was pretty egregiously mistaken. I could not, however, afford, at this particular crisis, to offend him, and accordingly stuck to generals. As the hour of meeting was approaching, I thought it necessary to acquaint him with the message I had received, in order to account for my exit at so unseasonable a time.
“It’s verra odd,” said the Provost,—“verra odd! A’ Dreepdaily should be in their beds by this time, and I canna think there could be a meeting without me hearing of it. It’s just the reverse o’ constitutional to keep folk trailing aboot the toun at this time o’ nicht, and the brig is a queer place for a tryst.”
“You do not surely apprehend, Mr Binkie, that there is any danger?”
“No just that, but you’ll no be the waur o’ a stick. Ony gait, I’ll send to Saunders Caup, the toun-officer, to be on the look-out. If ony body offers to harm ye, be sure ye cry out, and Saunders will be up in a crack. He’s as stieve as steel, and an auld Waterloo man.”
As a considerable number of years has elapsed since the last great European conflict, I confess that my confidence in the capabilities of Mr Caup, as an ally, was inferior to my belief in his prowess. I therefore declined the proposal, but accepted the weapon; and, after a valedictory tumbler with my host, emerged into the darkened street.
Francis Osbaldistone, when he encountered the famous Rob Roy by night, was in all probability, notwithstanding Sir Walter’s assertion to the contrary, in a very tolerable state of trepidation. At least I know that I was, as I neared the bridge of Dreepdaily. It was a nasty night of wind and rain, and not a soul was stirring in the street—the surface of which did little credit to the industry of the paving department, judging from the number of dubs in which I found involuntary accommodation. As I floundered along through the mire, I breathed anything but benedictions on the mysterious ShellOut, who was the cause of my midnight wandering.
Just as I reached the bridge, beneath which the river was roaring rather uncomfortably, a ragged-looking figure started out from an entry. A solitary lamp, suspended from above, gave me a full view of this personage, who resembled an animated scarecrow.
He stared me full in the face, and then muttered, with a wink and a leer,—
“Was ye seekin’ for ony body the nicht? Eh wow, man, but it’s cauld!”
“Who may you be, my friend?” said I, edging off from my unpromising acquaintance.
“Wha may I be?” replied the other: “that’s a gude ane! Gosh, d’ye no ken me? Au’m Geordie Dowie, the town bauldy, that’s as weel kent as the Provost hissell!”
To say the truth, Geordie was a very truculent-looking character to be an innocent. However, imbeciles of this description are usually harmless.
“And what have you got to say to me, Geordie?”
“If ye’re the man I think ye are,And ye’re name begins wi’ a D,Just tak ye tae yer soople shanks,And tramp alang wi’ me,”
“If ye’re the man I think ye are,And ye’re name begins wi’ a D,Just tak ye tae yer soople shanks,And tramp alang wi’ me,”
quavered the idiot, who, like many others, had a natural turn for poetry.
“And where are we going to, Geordie, my man?” said I in a soothing voice.
“Ye’ll find that when we get there,” replied the bauldy.
“Hey the bonnie gill-stoup!Ho the bonnie gill-stoup!Gie me walth o’ barley bree,And leeze me on the gill-stoup!”
“Hey the bonnie gill-stoup!Ho the bonnie gill-stoup!Gie me walth o’ barley bree,And leeze me on the gill-stoup!”
“But you can at least tell me who sent you here, Geordie?” said I, anxious for further information before intrusting myself to such erratic guidance.
He of the gill-stoups lifted up his voice and sang—
“Cam’ ye by Tweedside,Or cam’ ye by Flodden?Met ye the deilOn the braes o’ Culloden?“Three imps o’ darknessI saw in a neuk,Riving the red-coats,And roasting the Deuk.“Quo’ ane o’ them—‘Geordie,Gae down to the brig,I’m yaup for my supper,And fetch us a Whig.’
“Cam’ ye by Tweedside,Or cam’ ye by Flodden?Met ye the deilOn the braes o’ Culloden?“Three imps o’ darknessI saw in a neuk,Riving the red-coats,And roasting the Deuk.“Quo’ ane o’ them—‘Geordie,Gae down to the brig,I’m yaup for my supper,And fetch us a Whig.’
“Ha! ha! ha! Hoo d’ye like that, my man? Queer freends ye’ve gotten noo, and ye’ll need a lang spoon to sup kail wi’ them. But come awa’. I canna stand here the haill nicht listening to your havers.”
Although the hint conveyed by Mr Dowie’singenious verses was rather of an alarming nature, I made up my mind at once to run all risks and follow him. Geordie strode on, selecting apparently the most unfrequented lanes, and making, as I anxiously observed, for a remote part of the suburbs. Nor was his voice silent during our progress, for he kept regaling me with a series of snatches, which, being for the most part of a supernatural and diabolical tendency, did not much contribute towards the restoration of my equanimity. At length he paused before a small house, the access to which was by a downward flight of steps.
“Ay—this is the place!” he muttered. “I ken it weel. It’s no just bad the whusky that they sell, but they needna put sae muckle water intil’t.”
So saying, he descended the stair. I followed. There was no light in the passage, but the idiot went forward, stumbling and groping in the dark. I saw a bright ray streaming through a crevice, and three distinct knocks were given.
“Come in, whaever ye are!” said a bluff voice: and I entered a low apartment, in which the candles looked yellow through a fog of tobacco-smoke. Three men were seated at a deal table, covered with the implements of national conviviality; and to my intense astonishment none of the three were strangers to me. I at once recognised the features of the taciturn M’Auslan, the wary Shanks, and the independent Mr Thomas Gills.
“There’s the man ye wanted,” said Geordie Dowie, slapping me familiarly on the shoulder.—“Whaur’s the dram ye promised me?
“In Campbelltown my luve was born,Her mither in Glen Turrit!But Ferintosh is the place for me,For that’s the strangest speerit!”
“In Campbelltown my luve was born,Her mither in Glen Turrit!But Ferintosh is the place for me,For that’s the strangest speerit!”
“Haud yer clavering tongue, ye common village!” said Toddy Tam. “Wad ye bring in the neebourhood on us? M’Auslan, gie the body his dram, and then see him out of the door. We manna be interfered wi’ in our cracks.”
M’Auslan obeyed. A large glass of alcohol was given to my guide, who swallowed it with a sigh of pleasure.
“Eh, man! that’s gude and strang! It’s no ilka whusky that’ll mak Geordie Dowie pech. Fair fa’ yer face, my bonny M’Auslan! could you no just gi’e us anither?”
“Pit him out!” said the remorseless Gills. “It’s just extraordinar how fond the creature is o’ drink!” and Geordie was forcibly ejected, after an ineffectual clutch at the bottle.
“Sit ye down, Mr Dunshunner,” said Toddy Tam, addressing himself to me; “sit ye down, and mix yoursel’ a tumbler. I daresay now ye was a little surprised at the note ye got this morning, eh?”
“Why, certainly, Mr Gills, I did not anticipate the pleasure——”
“Ay, I kenned ye wad wonder at it. But ilka place has its ain way o’ doing business, and this is ours—quiet and cozy, ye see. I’se warrant, too, ye thocht M’Auslan a queer ane because he wadna speak out?”
I laughed dubiously towards M’Auslan, who responded with the austerest of possible grins.
“And Shanks, too,” continued Toddy Tam; “Shanks wadna speak out neither. They’re auld-farrant hands baith o’ them, Mr Dunshunner, and they didna like to promise ony thing without me. We three aye gang thegither.”
“I hope, then, Mr Gills, that I may calculate upon your support and that of your friends. My views upon the currency——”
“Ay! that’s speaking out at ance. Hoo muckle?”
“Ay! hoo muckle?” interposed M’Auslan, with a glistening eye.
“I really do not understand you, gentlemen.”
“Troth, then, ye’re slow at the uptak,” remarked Gills, after a meaning pause. “I see we maun be clear and conceese. Hark ye, Mr Dunshunner,—wha do ye think we are?”
“Three most respectable gentlemen, for whom I have the highest possible regard.”
“Hoots!—nonsense! D’ye no ken?”
“No,” was my puzzled response.
“Weel, then,” said Toddy Tam, advancing his lips to my ear, and pouring forth an alcoholic whisper—“we three can do mair than ye think o’—It’s huz that isthe Clique!”
I recoiled in perfect amazement, and gazed in succession upon the countenances of the three compatriots. Yes—there could be no doubt about it—I was in the presence of the tremendous junta of Dreepdaily; the veil of Isis had been lifted up, and the principal figure upon the pedestal was the magnanimous and independent Gills. Always a worshipper of genius, I began to entertain a feeling little short of veneration towards Toddy Tam. The admirable manner in which he had contrived to conceal his real power from the public—his assumed indignation and horror of the Clique—and his hold over all classes of the electors, demonstrated him at once to be a consummate master of the political art. Machiavelli could not have devised a subtler stratagem than Gills.
“That’s just the plain truth o’ the matter,” observed Shanks, who had hitherto remained silent. “We three is the Clique, and we hae the representation o’ the burrow in our hands. Now, to speak to the point, if we put our names down on your Committee, you carry the election, and we’re ready to come to an understanding upon fair and liberal grounds.”
And we did come to an understanding upongrounds which might be justly characterised as fair on the one side, and certainly liberal on the other. There was of course some little discussion as to the lengths I was expected to go in financial matters; and it was even hinted that, with regard to bullion, the Honourable Mr Pozzlethwaite might possibly entertain as enlarged views as myself. However, we fortunately succeeded in adjusting all our differences. I not only promised to give the weight of my name to a bill, but exhibited, upon the spot, a draft which met with the cordial approbation of my friends, and which indeed was so satisfactory that they did not offer to return it.
“That’s a’ right then,” said Toddy Tam, inserting the last-mentioned document in a greasy pocket-book. “Our names go down on your Committy, and the election is as gude as won!”
An eldritch laugh at a little window, which communicated with the street, at this moment electrified the speaker. There was a glimpse of a human face seen through the dingy pane.
A loud oath burst from the lips of Toddy Thomas.
“Some deevil has been watching us!” he cried. “Rin, M’Auslan, rin for your life, and grip him afore he can turn the corner! I wad not for a thousand pund that this nicht’s wark were to get wind!”
M’Auslan rushed, as desired; but all his efforts were ineffectual. The fugitive, whoever he was,had very prudently dived into the darkness, and the draper returned without his victim.
“What is to be done?” said I. “It strikes me, gentlemen, that this may turn out to be a very unpleasant business.”
“Nae fears—nae fears!” said Toddy Tam, looking, however, the reverse of comfortable. “It will hae been some callant trying to fley us, that’s a’. But, mind ye—no a word o’ this to ony living human being, and aboon a’ to Provost Binkie. I’ve keepit him for four years in the dark, and it never wad do to show the cat the road to the kirn!”
I acquiesced in the precautionary arrangement, and we parted; Toddy Tam and his friends having, by this time, disposed of all the surplus fluid. It was very late before I reached the Provost’s dwelling.
I suppose that next morning I had overslept myself; for, when I awoke, I heard Miss Binkie in full operation at the piano. This time, however, she was not singing alone, for a male voice was audible in conjunction with hers.
“It would be an amazing consolation to me if somebody would carry off that girl!” thought I, as I proceeded with my toilet. “I made a deuced fool of myself to her yesterday; and, to say the truth, I don’t very well know how to look her in the face!”
However, there was no help for it, so I proceededdown-stairs. The first individual I recognised in the breakfast parlour was M’Corkindale. He was engaged in singing, along with Miss Binkie, some idiotical catch about a couple of albino mice.
“Bob!” cried I, “my dear Bob, I am delighted to see you;—what on earth has brought you here?”
“A gig and a foundered mare,” replied the matter-of-fact M’Corkindale. “The fact is, that I was anxious to hear about your canvass; and, as there was nothing to do in Glasgow—by the way, Dunshunner, the banks have put on the screw again—I resolved to satisfy my own curiosity in person. I arrived this morning, and Miss Binkie has been kind enough to ask me to stay breakfast.”
“I am sure both papa and I are always happy to see Mr M’Corkindale,” said Margaret impressively.
“I am afraid,” said I, “that I have interrupted your music: I did not know, M’Corkindale, that you were so eminent a performer.”
“I hold with Aristotle,” replied Bob modestly, “that music and political economy are at the head of all the sciences. But it is very seldom that one can meet with so accomplished a partner as Miss Binkie.”
“Oh, ho,” thought I. But here the entrance of the Provost diverted the conversation, and we all sat down to breakfast. Old Binkie was evidently dying to know the result of my interview on theprevious evening, but I was determined to keep him in the dark. Bob fed like an ogre, and made prodigious efforts to be polite.
After breakfast, on the pretext of business we went out for a walk. The economist lighted his cigar.
“Snug quarters these, Dunshunner, at the Provost’s.”
“Very. But, Bob, things are looking rather well here. I had a negotiation last night which has as good as settled the business.”
“I am very glad to hear it.—Nice girl, Miss Binkie; very pretty eyes, and a good foot and ankle.”
“An unexceptionable instep. What do you think!—I have actually discovered the Clique at last.”
“You don’t say so! Do you think old Binkie has saved money?”
“I am sure he has. I look upon Dreepdaily as pretty safe now; and I propose going over this afternoon to Drouthielaw. What would you recommend?”
“I think you are quite right; but somebody should stay here to look after your interests. There is no depending upon these fellows. I’ll tell you what—while you are at Drouthielaw I shall remain here, and occupy your quarters. The Committee will require some man of business to drill them in, and I don’t care if I spare you the time.”
I highly applauded this generous resolution; at the same time I was not altogether blind to the motive. Bob, though an excellent fellow in the main, did not usually sacrifice himself to his friends, and I began to suspect that Maggie Binkie—with whom, by the way, he had some previous acquaintance—was somehow or other connected with his enthusiasm. As matters stood, I of course entertained no objection: on the contrary, I thought it no breach of confidence to repeat the history of the nest-egg.
Bob pricked up his ears.
“Indeed!” said he; “that is a fair figure as times go; and to judge from appearances, the stock in trade must be valuable.”
“Cargoes of sugar,” said I, “oceans of rum, and no end whatever of molasses!”
“A very creditable chairman, indeed, for your Committee, Dunshunner,” replied Bob. “Then I presume you agree that I should stay here, whilst you prosecute your canvass?”
I assented, and we returned to the house. In the course of the forenoon the list of my Committee was published, and, to the great joy of the Provost, the names of Thomas Gill, Alexander M’Auslan, and Simon Shanks appeared. He could not, for the life of him, understand how they had all come forward so readily. A meeting of my friends was afterwards held, at which I delivered a short harangueupon the constitution of 1688, which seemed to give general satisfaction; and before I left the room, I had the pleasure of seeing the Committee organised, with Bob officiating as secretary. It was the opinion of every one that Pozzlethwaite had not a chance. I then partook of a light luncheon, and after bidding farewell to Miss Binkie, who, on the whole, seemed to take matters very coolly, I drove off for Drouthielaw. I need not relate my adventures in that respectable burgh. They were devoid of anything like interest, and not quite so satisfactory in their result as I could have wished. However, the name of Gills was known even at that distance, and his views had considerable weight with some of the religious denominations. So far as I was concerned, I had no sinecure of it. It cost me three nights’ hard drinking to conciliate the leaders of the Anabaptists, and at least three more before the chiefs of the Antinomians would surrender. As to the Old Light gentry, I gave them up in despair, for I could not hope to have survived the consequences of so serious a conflict.
Parliament was at length dissolved; the new writs were issued, and the day of nomination fixed for the Dreepdaily burghs. For a time it appearedto myself, and indeed to almost every one else, that my return was perfectly secure. Provost Binkie was in great glory, and the faces of the unknown Clique were positively radiant with satisfaction. But a storm was brewing in another quarter, upon which we had not previously calculated.
The Honourable Mr Pozzlethwaite, my opponent, had fixed his headquarters in Drouthielaw, and to all appearance was making very little progress in Dreepdaily. Indeed, in no sense of the word could Pozzlethwaite be said to be popular. He was a middle-aged man, as blind as a bat, and, in order to cure the defect, he ornamented his visage with an immense pair of green spectacles, which, it may be easily conceived, did not add to the beauty of his appearance. In speech he was slow and verbose, in manner awkward, in matter almost wholly unintelligible. He professed principles which he said were precisely the same as those advocated by the late Jeremy Bentham; and certainly, if he was correct in this, I do not regret that my parents omitted to bring me up at the feet of the utilitarian Gamaliel. In short, Paul was prosy to a degree, had not an atom of animation in his whole composition, and could no more have carried a crowd along with him than he could have supported Atlas upon his shoulders. A portion, however, of philosophic weavers, and a certain section of the Seceders, had declared in his favour;and, moreover, it was just possible that he might gain the suffrages of some of the Conservatives. Kittleweem, the Tory burgh, had hitherto preserved the appearance of strict neutrality. I had attempted to address the electors of that place, but I found that the hatred of Dreepdaily and of its Clique was more powerful than my eloquence; and, somehow or other, the benighted savages did not comprehend the merits of the Revolution Settlement of 1688, and were as violently national as the Celtic race before the invention of trews. Kittleweem had equipped half a regiment for Prince Charles in the Forty-five, and still piqued itself on its stanch Episcopacy. A Whig, therefore, could hardly expect to be popular in such a den of prejudice. By the advice of M’Corkindale, I abstained from any further efforts, which might possibly have tended to exasperate the electors, and left Kittleweem to itself, in the hope that it would maintain an armed neutrality.
And so it probably might have done, but for an unexpected occurrence. Two days before the nomination, a new candidate appeared on the field. Sholto Douglas was the representative of one of the oldest branches of his distinguished name, and the race to which he more immediately belonged had ever been foremost in the ranks of Scottish chivalry and patriotism. In fact, no family had suffered more from their attachment to the cause of legitimacythan the Douglases of Inveriachan. Forfeiture after forfeiture had cut down their broad lands to a narrow estate, and but for an unexpected Indian legacy, the present heir would have been marching as a subaltern in a foot regiment. But a large importation of rupees had infused new life and spirit into the bosom of Sholto Douglas. Young, eager, and enthusiastic, he determined to rescue himself from obscurity; and the present state of the Dreepdaily burghs appeared to offer a most tempting opportunity. Douglas was, of course, Conservative to the backbone; but, more than that, he openly proclaimed himself a friend of the people, and a supporter of the rights of labour.
“Confound the fellow!” said Bob M’Corkindale to me, the morning after Sholto’s address had been placarded through the burghs, “who would have thought of an attack of this kind from such a quarter? Have you seen his manifesto, Dunshunner?”
“Yes—here it is in thePatriot. The editor, however, gives him it soundly in the leading article. I like his dogmatic style and wholesale denunciation of the Tories.”
“I’ll tell you what it is, though—I look upon this as anything but a joke. Douglas is evidently not a man to stand upon old aristocratic pretensions. He has got the right sow by the ear this time, and, had he started a little earlier, might have roused the national spirit to a very unpleasantpitch. You observe what he says about Scotland, the neglect of her local interests, and the manner in which she has been treated, with reference to Ireland?”
“I do. And you will be pleased to recollect that but for yourself, something of the same kind would have appeared in my address.”
“If you mean that as a reproach, Dunshunner, you are wrong. How was it possible to have started you as a Whig upon patriotic principles?”
“Well—that’s true enough. At the same time, I cannot help wishing that we had said a word or two about the interests to the north of the Tweed.”
“What is done cannot be undone. We must now stick by the Revolution settlement.”
“Do you know, Bob, I think we have given them quite enough of that same settlement already. Those fellows at Kittleweem laughed in my face the last time that I talked about it, and I am rather afraid that it won’t go down on the hustings.”
“Try the sanitary condition of the towns, then, and universal conciliation to Ireland,” replied the Economist. “I have given orders to hire two hundred Paddies, who have come over for the harvest, at a shilling a-head, and of course you may depend upon their voices, and also their shillelahs, if needful. I think we should have a row. It would be a great matter to make Douglas unpopular; and, witha movement of my little finger, I could turn out a whole legion of navigators.”
“No, Bob, you had better not. It is just possible they might make a mistake, and shy brickbats at the wrong candidate. It will be safer, I think, to leave the mob to itself: at the same time, we shall not be the worse for the Tipperary demonstration. And how looks the canvass?”
“Tolerably well, but not perfectly secure. The Clique has done its very best, but at the same time there is undeniably a growing feeling against it. Many people grumble about its dominion, and are fools enough to say that they have a right to think for themselves.”
“Could you not circulate a report that Pozzlethwaite is the man of the Clique?”
“The idea is ingenious, but I fear it would hardly work. Dreepdaily is well known to be the headquarters of the confederation, and the name of Provost Binkie is inseparably connected with it.”
“By the way, M’Corkindale, it struck me that you looked rather sweet upon Miss Binkie last evening.”
“I did. In fact I popped the question,” replied Robert calmly.
“Indeed! Were you accepted?”
“Conditionally. If we gain the election, she becomes Mrs M’Corkindale—if we lose, I suppose Ishall have to return to Glasgow in a state of celibacy.”
“A curious contract, certainly! Well, Bob, since your success is involved in mine, we must fight a desperate battle.”
“I wish, though, that Mr Sholto Douglas had been kind enough to keep out of the way,” observed M’Corkindale.
The morning of the day appointed for the nomination dawned upon the people of Dreepdaily with more than usual splendour. For once, there was no mist upon the surrounding hills, and the sky was clear as sapphire. I rose early to study my speech, which had received the finishing touches from M’Corkindale on the evening before; and I flatter myself it was as pretty a piece of Whig rhetoric as ever was spouted from a hustings. Toddy Tam, indeed, had objected, upon seeing a draft, that “there was nae banes intil’t;” but the political economist was considered by the Committee a superior authority on such subjects to Gills. After having carefully conned it over, I went down-stairs, where the whole party were already assembled. A large blue and yellow flag, with the inscription, “Dunshunner and the Good Cause!” was hung out from the window, to the intense delight of a gang of urchins, who testified to the popularity of the candidate by ceaseless vociferation to “pour out.” The wall opposite, however,bore some memoranda of an opposite tendency, for I could see some large placards, newly pasted up, on which the words, “Electors of Dreepdaily! you are sold by the Clique!” were conspicuous in enormous capitals. I heard, too, something like a ballad chanted, in which my name seemed to be coupled, irreverently, with that of the independent Gills.
Provost Binkie—who, in common with the rest of the company, wore upon his bosom an enormous blue and buff cockade, prepared by the fair hands of his daughter—saluted me with great cordiality. I ought to observe that the Provost had been kept as much as possible in the dark regarding the actual results of the canvass. He was to propose me, and it was thought that his nerves would be more steady if he came forward under the positive conviction of success.
“This is a great day, Mr Dunshunner—a grand day for Dreepdaily,” he said. “A day, if I may sae speak, o’ triumph and rejoicing! The news o’ this will run frae one end o’ the land to the ither—for the een o’ a’ Scotland is fixed on Dreepdaily, and the stench auld Whig principles is sure to prevail, even like a mighty river that rins down in spate to the sea!”
I justly concluded that this figure of speech formed part of the address to the electors which for the two last days had been simmering in the brain of theworthy magistrate, along with the fumes of the potations he had imbibed, as incentives to the extraordinary effort. Of course I took care to appear to participate in his enthusiasm. My mind, however, was very far from being thoroughly at ease.
As twelve o’clock, which was the hour of nomination, drew near, there was a great muster at my committee-room. The band of the Independent Tee-totallers, who to a man were in my interest, was in attendance. They had been well primed with ginger cordial, and were obstreperous to a gratifying degree.
Toddy Tam came up to me with a face of the colour of carnation.
“I think it richt to tell ye, Mr Dunshunner, that there will be a bit o’ a bleeze ower yonder at the hustings. The Kittleweem folk hae come through in squads, and Lord Hartside’s tenantry have marched in a body, wi’ Sholto Douglas’s colours flying.”
“And the Drouthielaw fellows—what has become of them?”
“Od, they’re no wi’ us either—they’re just savage at the Clique! Gudesake, Mr Dunshunner, tak care, and dinna say a word aboot huz. I intend mysell to denounce the body, and may be that will do us gude.”
I highly approved of Mr Gills’ determination, and as the time had now come, we formed in column,and marched towards the hustings with the tee-total band in front, playing a very lugubrious imitation of “Glorious Apollo.”
The other candidates had already taken their places. The moment I was visible to the audience, I was assailed by a volley of yells, among which, cries of “Doun wi’ the Clique!”—“Wha bought them?”—“Nae nominee!”—“We’ve had eneuch o’ the Whigs!” et cetera, were distinctly audible. This was not at all the kind of reception I had bargained for;—however, there was nothing for it but to put on a smiling face, and I reciprocated courtesies as well as I could with both of my honourable opponents.
During the reading of the writ and the Bribery Act, there was a deal of joking, which I presume was intended to be good-humoured. At the same time there could be no doubt that it was distinctly personal. I heard my name associated with epithets of anything but an endearing description, and, to say the truth, if choice had been granted, I would far rather have been at Jericho than in the front of the hustings at Dreepdaily. A man must be, indeed, intrepid, and conscious of a good cause, who can oppose himself without blenching to the objurgation of an excited mob.
The Honourable Paul Pozzlethwaite, on account of his having been the earliest candidate in the field, was first proposed by a town-councillor of Drouthielaw.This part of the ceremony appeared to excite but little interest, the hooting and cheering being pretty equally distributed.
It was now our turn.
“Gang forrard, Provost, and be sure ye speak oot!” said Toddy Tam; and Mr Binkie advanced accordingly.
Thereupon such a row commenced as I never had witnessed before. Yelling is a faint word to express the sounds of that storm of extraordinary wrath which descended upon the head of the devoted Provost. “Clique! Clique!” resounded on every side, and myriads of eyes, ferocious as those of the wildcat, were bent scowlingly on my worthy proposer. In vain did he gesticulate—in vain implore. The voice of Demosthenes—nay, the deep bass of Stentor himself—could not have been heard amidst that infernal uproar; so that, after working his arms for a time like the limbs of a telegraph, and exerting himself until he became absolutely swart in the face, Binkie was fain to give it up, and retired amidst a whirlwind of abuse.
“May the deil fly awa’ wi’ the hail pack o’ them!” said he, almost blubbering with excitement and indignation. “Wha wad ever hae thocht to have seen the like o’ this? and huz, too, that gied them the Reform Bill! Try your hand at them, Tam, for my heart’s amaist broken!”
The bluff independent character of Mr Gills,and his reputed purity from all taint of the Clique, operated considerably in his favour. He advanced amidst general cheering, and cries of “Noo for Toddy Tam!” “Let’s hear Mr Gills!” and the like; and as he tossed his hat aside and clenched his brawny fist, he really looked the incarnation of a sturdy and independent elector. His style, too, was decidedly popular—
“Listen tae me!” he said, “and let the brawlin’, braggin’, bletherin’ idiwits frae Drouthielaw haud their lang clavering tongues, and no keep rowtin’ like a herd o’ senseless nowte! (Great cheering from Dreepdaily and Kittleweem—considerable disapprobation from Drouthielaw.) I ken them weel, the auld haverils! (cheers.) But you, my freends, that I have dwalt wi’ for twenty years, is it possible that ye can believe for one moment that I wad submit to be dictated to by a Clique? (Cries of “No! no!” “It’s no you, Tam!” and confusion.) No me? I dinna thank ye for that! Wull ony man daur to say to my face, that I ever colleagued wi’ a pack that wad buy and sell the haill of us as readily as ye can deal wi’ sheep’s-heads in the public market? (Laughter.) Div ye think that if Mr Dunshunner was ony way mixed up wi’ that gang, I wad be here this day tae second him? Div ye think——”
Here Mr Gills met with a singular interruption. A remarkable figure attired in a red coat and cocked-hat,at one time probably the property of a civic officer, and who had been observed for some time bobbing about in front of the hustings, was now elevated upon the shoulders of a yeoman, and displayed to the delighted spectators the features of Geordie Dowie.
“Ay, Toddy Tam, are ye there, man?” cried Geordie with a malignant grin. “What was you and the Clique doin’ at Nanse Finlayson’s on Friday nicht?”
“What was it, Geordie? What was it?” cried a hundred voices.
“Am I to be interrupted by a natural?” cried Gills, looking, however, considerably flushed in the face.
“What hae ye dune wi’ the notes, Tam, that the lang chield up by there gied ye? And whaur’s your freends, Shanks and M’Auslan? See that ye steek close the window neist time, ma man!” cried Geordie with demoniac ferocity.
This was quite enough for the mob, who seldom require any excuse for a display of their hereditary privileges. A perfect hurricane of hissing and of yelling arose, and Gills, though he fought like a hero, was at last forced to retire from the contest. Had Geordie Dowie’s windpipe been within his grasp at that moment, I would not have insured for any amount the life of the perfidious spy.
Sholto Douglas was proposed and seconded amidstgreat cheering, and then Pozzlethwaite rose to speak. I do not very well recollect what he said, for I had quite enough to do in thinking about myself; and the Honourable Paul would have conferred a material obligation upon me, if he had talked for an hour longer. At length my turn came.
“Electors of Dreepdaily!”—
That was the whole of my speech—at least the whole of it that was audible to any one human being. Humboldt, if I recollect right, talks in one of his travels of having somewhere encountered a mountain composed of millions of entangled snakes, whose hissing might have equalled that of the transformed legions of Pandemonium. I wish Humboldt, for the sake of scientific comparison, could have been upon the hustings that day! Certain I am, that the sibilation did not leave my ears for a fortnight afterwards, and even now, in my slumbers, I am haunted by a wilderness of asps! However, at the urgent entreaty of M’Corkindale, I went on for about ten minutes, though I was quivering in every limb, and as pale as a ghost; and in order that the public might not lose the benefit of my sentiments, I concluded by handing a copy of my speech, interlarded with fictitious cheers, to the reporter for theDreepdaily Patriot. That document may still be seen by the curious in the columns of that impartial newspaper.
I will state this for Sholto Douglas, that he behaved like a perfect gentleman. There was in his speech no triumph over the discomfiture which the other candidates had received; on the contrary, he rather rebuked the audience for not having listened to us with greater patience. He then went on with his oration. I need hardly say it was a national one, and it was most enthusiastically cheered.
All that I need mention about the show of hands is, that it was not by any means hollow in my favour.
That afternoon we were not quite so lively in the Committee-room as usual. The serenity of Messrs Gills, M’Auslan, and Shanks,—and, perhaps, I may add of myself—was a good deal shaken by the intelligence that a broadside with the tempting title of “Full and Particular Account of an Interview between the Clique and Mr Dunshunner, held at Nanse Finlayson’s Tavern, on Friday last, and how they came to terms. By an Eyewitness,” was circulating like wildfire through the streets. To have been beaten by a Douglas was nothing, but to have been so artfully entrapped by an imbecile!
Provost Binkie, too, was dull and dissatisfied. The reception he had met with in his native town was no doubt a severe mortification, but the feeling that he had been used as a catspaw and instrument of the Clique, was, I suspected, uppermost in his mind. Poor man! We had great difficulty that evening in bringing him to his sixth tumbler.
Even M’Corkindale was hipped. I own I was surprised at this, for I knew of old the indefatigable spirit and keen energy of my friend, and I thought that, with such a stake as he had in the contest, he would even have redoubled his exertions. Such, however, was not the case.
I pass over the proceedings at the poll. From a very early hour it became perfectly evident that my chance was utterly gone; and, indeed, had it been possible, I should have left Dreepdaily before the close. At four o’clock the numbers stood thus:—