Part III.
I travelled then west by Falkirk, by the foot of the great hills; and one night after I had got lodging in a farmer’s house, there happened a contest between the goodman and his mother, he being a young man unmarried, as I understood, and formerly their sowens had been that thin, so the goodman being a sworn birley-man[89]of that barony, came to survey the sowens before they went on the fire, and actually swore they were o’er thin, and she swore by her conscience they would be thick enough if ill hands and ill een[90]baed awa’ from them: A sweet be here mither, said he, do yethink that I’m a witch? Witch here or witch there, said the wife, swearing by her saul, and that was nae banning, she said they’ll be good substantial meat, a’ what say ye chapman? indeed goodwife, said I, sowens is but saft meat at the best; but if ye make them thick enough, and put a good lump of butter in them, they’ll do very well for a supper: I true sae lad, said she, ye hae some sense; so the old woman put on the pot with her sowens, and went to milk her cows, leaving me to steer; the goodman her son, as soon as she went out, took a great cog full of water and put it into the pot amongst the sowens, and then went out of the house, and left me alone: I considered what sort of a pish the bed supper I was to get if I staid there, I thought to set out, but takes up the pitcher with water, and fills up the pot until it was running over, and then takes up my pack and comes about a mile farther that night, leaving the honest woman and her son, to sup their watery witch’t sowens at their own leisure.
I then turned towards the east, through a place called Slamanen, and was lodged one night near a place called Tod’s bughts, where there was a boul-horn’d goodwife, but a very civil goodman, when I went in, she took up a dish from the dog wherein was a few he had left, and with a collection more from other cogs, she offered them to me, which I refused, ’m, said she, ye’re a lordly sort of a chapman indeed; so I began to divert the goodman, by telling him a deal of fine stories to make him laugh, but could not get near the fire, at last said, O goodwife, I’ll tell you news; ay, chapman, what’s that, said she? indeed my feet’s very cauld, said I, whereat they all laught but the goodwife, she gloom’d until the rest was done, and then took a laugh at it herself: So the goodman ordered the Johnies, Jamies and Jennies with their wheels to sit about; then I was set beyond the fire, and preferred to steer their sowens, but when they were ready and put up in dishes, the goodwife order’d one of the lads to take a pair of old blankets and two sacks, and shew me where I was to ly in the barn: Ho, ho, thinks I, there’s no supper for me, but I’ll remember this, to pay her stock and annual. So I went to thebarn and lay till next morning, about Chapman’s rising time, when pottage was ready, and then gives the wife a fine cotton lace and a few pins, which pleased her so well, that she went through the cogs and collected about a mutchkin of pottage for me, for which I thanked her: “Awat well lad, said she, an ye be coming buy ony time, ye’s be welcome to a night o’ our barn, for ye hae na steal’d naething,” thanks to you goodwife, said I, that’s very fair; “Indeed lad ’tis no every ane we’ll trust wi’ our new barn, farfore sud we?” O goodwife, it wad be a great thief that wad run awa’ wi’ a barn on his back I wonder ye let it stand out all night: Hute awa’ ye daft body, how can we get it in, ke awa’ chapman ye’re joking me now.
I then took a turn round the country for two weeks, and then came back to be avenged on the naughty wife and her sowens, it being very dark or I came in, the goodwife did not know me, but made her speech as follows: “Indeed, says she, ye’s no be here, for there is so many thieves and robbers gawn a-thort the kintry, an our goodman’s no at hame; is thou honest enough?” I can want nothing of my honesty goodwife; but did you ever see any people gawn thro’ the country, telling they were thieves? “Na, a wat well no, said she.” Then, said I, I’m sure I did not take away your barn on my back the last time I was here; “Yee lad, said she, are ye the chapman that cracket sae well to our goodman? come in by, ye’s get a night o’ the barn yet;” thanks to you goodwife and we sud get nae mair. I then being preferred to my old seat and got the sowens to steer, until they were near ready, when the goodwife ordered the lad to take the old blankets, and shew me to my bed in the barn; I then gave the sowens their last turn, and having about the bigness of a nut of C—l S—p, drops it into the pot, then went off to bed in the barn as fast as I could, and made fast both the doors within, lest the bewitched sowens out of the pot should attack me in my sleep: Next morning when I came in, the goodwife began to pray for herself and all that she had, saying, “It’s Wednesday thro’ a’ the warld and good be between you and me chapman, for ye’re either a witch or a warlock, or something that’s nocanny, for ye witch’t our sowens last night, for they gaed mad, rag’d out o’ the pot, belling and bizing like barm, I thought they wad run out to the barn to you, see how they fill’d up my milk tub, and a’ the dishes in the house is fu’ o’ them.” Dear goodwife, said I, they were very good when I left them, tho’ I did not prie them, and wish’d them as much good of them as I got, but certainly they’re not witcht, but a blessing in them, when they are so multiplied: “Gae awa, cried she, in a passion, ye’re no canny, ye’se ne’er be here again:” I need not value that, said I, for I have nothing to thank you for, but my dinner, supper, and breakfast, and for a night o’ your barn, I’ll pay it when I come back: “Ay, ay, said she, ye need nae thank me for what ye did not get:” that’s not my fault goodless good, said I, prosperity to you and your witcht sowens.[91]
The next little town I came to, and the first house which I entered, the wife cried out, “plague on your snout sir, ye filthy blackguard chapman like b—h it ye are, the last time ye came here ye gard our Sandy burn the good bane kame it I gade a sax pence in Falkirk, ay did ye, and sae did ye, and sae did ye een, and said, ye wad gie him a muckle clear button to do it:” Me, said I, I never had ado with you all the days of my life, and do not say that Sandy is mine: “A wae wirth the body am I saying ye had ado wi’ me, I wadna hae ado wi’ the like o’ you nor I am sure wi’ them I never saw.” But what about the button and the bane kame goodwife? Sannock is na this the man? Ay is’t cried the boy, gie me my button, for I burnt the kame, and she paid[92]me for’t, Gae awa’ sir, said I, your mother and you is but mocking me; it was either you or ane like you, or some ither body. O goodwife, I mind wha’ it is now, it’s ane just like me, when ye see the taen ye see the tither, they ca’ him Jock Jimpither: A wae worth him quo’ the wife, if I winna thrapple him for my good bane comb. Now said I, good wife be good, bridle your passion, and buy abane comb and colour’d napkin, I’ll gie you a whaken penny-worth will gar you sing in your bed, If I should sell you the tae half, and gift you the tither, and gar you pay for every inch of it sweetly or a’ be done: Hech man, said she, ye’re a hearty fallow, and I hae need o’ a’ these things, for our Sannock’s head is a’ hotchen, and our John’s is little better, for an’ let them alane but ae eight days, they’ll grow as grit as grosets. And here I sold a bone comb and a napkin, for she believed such a douse lad as I, had no hand in making her boy burn the bone comb.
The next house I came into, there was a very little taylor, sitting on a table like a t—d on a truncher, with his legs plet over other, made me imagine he was a sucking three footed taylor, first I sold him a thimble, and then he wanted needles, which I showed him one paper after another, he looking their eyes and trying their nebs in his sleeve, dropt the ones he thought proper on the ground between his feet, where he sat in a dark corner near the fire, thinking I would not perceive him: O, said he, them needles of yours is not good man, I’ll no buy any of them, I do no not think you need, said I, taking them out of his hand, and lights a candle was standing near by, come, said I, sit about you thieving dog till I gather up my needles, gathers up ten of them, come said he, I’ll buy twal-penny’s worth of them, since I troubled you sae muckle; no, said I, you lazie dog, I’ll sell you none, if there’s any on the ground, seek them up and stap them in a beast’s a—se, but if ye were a man I would burn thee in the fire, tho’ it be in your own house, but as your a poor taylor and neither man nor boy, I’ll do nothing but expose you for what you are. O dear honest chapman, cried his wife, ye mauna do that and I’ll gie you cheese and bread. No, no, you thieves, I’m for nothing but vengeance; no bribes, for such: So as I was lifting my pack, there was a pretty black cat which I spread over with my napkin, and took the four corners in my hand, carrying her as a bundle, untill I came about the middle of the town, then provoking the dogs to an engagement with me, so that there came upon me four or five collies, then Ithrew the poor taylor’s cat in the midst of them, there a terrible battle ensued for some time, and badrons had certainly died on the field had I not interposed, and got her off mortally wounded; the people who saw the battle, alarmed the taylor, and he sallied out like a champion with his elwand in his hand, go back, said I, you lousie dog, or I’ll tell about the needles, at which word he turned about. I went to an ale-house to get some breakfast, there they asked me where I was all night, as it was usual for chapmen to get meat where they lodged, I told where it was, but would take none of their meat, they seem to me not to be canny, for this morning they were making ropes of cold sowens to crown their stacks wi: Gae awa’, cried the wife, I cannot believe it. Die in your ignorance for me: The wife sent away her son to see if it was so, but or he came back I set out, and travelled down the side of a water called Evan: and as I was coming past a mill dam, there was a big clownish fellow lifting a pitcher of water out of the dam, so as he dipt it full and set down on the ground, staring at me, he tumbled in himself out of sight o’er head and ears, and as soon as he got out, I said, Yo ho friend, Did you get the fish? What an’ a fish ye b—h, O said I, I thought ye, seen a fish, when you jumped in to make it jump out: What a d—l sir, are you mocking me? runs round his pitcher, and gives me a kick on the a—se, so that I fell designedly on his pitcher, and tumbling it down the bank, went in pieces, his master and another man looking and laughing at us, the poor fellow complained of me to him, but got no satisfaction.
The same evening, as I was going towards the town of Linlithgow, meets an old crabet fellow riding upon an old glaied mare, which he always was a threshing upon with his stick: Goode’en to you goodman, said I, are you going to the bull wi’ your mare? What do ye say sir, they gang to the bull wi’ a cow ye brute. O yes goodman, ye are right, said I, but how do they call that he beast that rides on the mare’s back, they ca’t a cusser sir, a well then goode’en to you Master Cusser. He rides a little bit, then turns back in a rage, saying, I say sir, your last words are war nor your first, he comes then atthe flight to ride me down, but I struck his beast on the face, and in the short turn about it fell, yet or I got my pack to the ground, he cutted me on the head at the first stroke, and then getting clear of the pack, played it away for some time, till by blows on the face, I made him blood at both mouth and nose; then he cried out, chapman, we are baith daft, for we’ll kill oursells and make nothing o’t, we had better gree, with all my heart, said I, and what will ye buy? nothing but a pair of beard sheers, said he, and give me them cheap, so I sold him a pair of sheers for three half-pence, and gave him a needle, then parted good friends after the battle was over.
So I went to Linlithgow that night, where I met with Drouthy Tom my dear companion, and here we had a most terrible encounter with the tipenny for two nights and a day, and then we set out for Fife on the hair order, by way of Torryburn and Culross and coming up to a parcel of women washing by a water side, I buys one of their hairs, the time I was cutting it off, Tom fell a courting and kissing a girl among them, but she fell to crying against him, saying ye have put your hands a-tween my feet; cries an old wife, mony a ane has taen me by there, and I ne’er said a word about it, a-wheen daft jades, canna ye had your tongues whan its to your shame ye speak; gae wa’, cried the lass the filthy body at he is, the last chapman that kist me had a horse-pack, but he’ll hae naething in his but a whisp of strae, some auld breeks, hare skins, maukin skins, ony thing that fills the bag and bears bouk, and yet he would kiss and handle me, hech I was made for a better fallow, ane of them came by ae day, and sell’d our Meg twa ell and a quarter o’ linnen to be her bridal sark, for he had nae mair, and when she made it, and put it on, it wadna hide her hech, hech, he.
Finis.