Sivut kuvina

my debt.

big lump of the good, they'll be zo kind-hearted as to take a little bit of the bad.

Sir P. It is but reasonable. I conclude, then, you are in Ash. Ees, zur,

I be; at your zarvice. Sir P. How much? Ash. I do owe ye a hundred and fifty pounds; at your zarvice. Sir P. Which you can't pay. Ash. Not a varthing, zur, at your zarvice. Sir P. Well, I am willing to allow you every indulgence. Ash. Be you, zur ? that be deadly kind. Dear heart! it will make my auld dame quite young again, and I don't think helping a poor man will do your honor's health any harm; I don't indeed, zur. I had a thought of speaking to your worship aboat it; but then, thinks I, the gentleman mayhap be one of those that do like to do a good turn, and not have a word zaid about it: zo, zur, if you had not mentioned what I owed you, I am zure I never should ; should not, indeed, zur.

Sir. P. Nay, I will wholly acquit you of the debt, on conditionAsh.

Ees, zur. Sir. P. On condition, I say, that you instantly turn out that boy; that Henry

Ash. Turn out Henry! Ha, ha, ha! Excuse my tittering, zur ; but you bees making your vun of I, zure.

Sir P. I am not apt to trifle; send him instantly from you, or take the consequences.

Ash. Turn out Henry! I do vow I should'nt know how to set about it; I should not, indeed, zur.

Sir P. You hear my determination. If you disobey, you know what will follow. I'll leave you to reflect on it. (Exit.)

Ash. Well, zur, I'll argify the topic, and then you may wait upon me, and I'll tell ye. (Makes the motion of turning out.) I should be deadly awkard at it, vor zartain. However, I'll put the case. Well! I goes whiztling whoam; noa, drabbit it! I shouldn't be able to whiztle a bit, I'm zure. Well! I goes whoam, and I zees Henry sitting by my wife, mixing up someit to comfort the wold zoul, and take away the pain of her rheumatics. Very well! Then Henry places a chair vor I by the vire-side, and zays—“Varmer, the horses be fed, the sheep be folded, and you have nothing to do but to zit down, smoke your pipe, and be happy !" Very well! (Becomes affected. Then I zays, “ Henry, you be poor and friendless, )

, 80 you must turn out of my house directly.” Very well! then my wife stares at I; reaches her hand towards the vire-place, and throws the poker at my head. Very well! then Henry gives a kind of aguish shake, and getting up, sighs from the bottom of his heart; then holding up his head like a king, zays, “Varmer, I have too long been a burden to you. Heaven protect you, as you have me. Farewell! I go.” Then I zays, “If thee doez i'll be smashed.” (With great energy.) Hollo! you Mister Sir Philip! you may come in.

(Enter Sir Philip Blandford.) Zur, I have argified the topic, and it wouldn't be pretty ; zo I can't.

Sir P. Can't!
Ash. Well, zur, there is but another word: I won't.
Sir P. Indeed.

Ash. No, zur, I won't. I'd see myself hanged first, and you too, zur! I would indeed. (Bowing.)

Sir. P. You refuse then to obey ?
Ash. I do zur; at your zarvice. (Bowing.)
Sir P. Then the law must take its course.

Ash. I be zorry for that too. I be, indeed, zur ; but if corn wou’dn't grow I cou’dn't help it; it wer'n't poisoned by the hand that zowed it. Thic hand, zur, be as free from guilt as your own. Good morning to you. I do hope I have made myself agreeable; and zo I'll go whoam. (Exeunt.)



DR. GREGORY—PATIENT.-Anonymous. SCENE.Dr. Gregory's study. Enter a plump Glasgow merchant.

Patient. Good morning, Dr. Gregory ; I'm just come into Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought when I was here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, sir, about my trouble.

Doctor. Pray sir, sit down. And now, my good sir, what may your trouble be ?

Þa. Indeed doctor, I'm not very sure ; but I'm thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach—I'm just na right.

Dr. You are from the west country, I should suppose, sir ?
Pa. Yes, sir, from Glasgow.
Dr. Ay; pray, sir, are you a glutton ?

Pa. God forbid, sir, I'm one of the plainest men living in all the west country.

Dr. Then perhaps you are a drunkard ?
Pa. No, Dr. Gregory; thank God, no one can accuse me


tell me your

of that ; I'm of the dissenting persuasion, doctor, and an elder, so ye may suppose I'm na drunkard. Dr. I'll suppose no such thing till you

mode of life.—I'm so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear in detail what you do eat and drink. When do

you breakfast, and what do you take at it?

Pa. I breakfast at nine o'clock, tak a cup of coffee, and one or two cups of tea, a couple of eggs, and a bit of ham or kippered salmon, or, may be, both, if they're good, and two or three rolls and butter.

Dr. Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, at breakfast ?
Pa. Oh


sir; but I don't count that as any thing. Dr Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. What kind of a dinner do


make ? Pa. Oh, sir, I eat a very plain dinner indeed. Some soup, and some fish, and a little plain roast or boiled; for I dinna care for made dishes; I think, some way, they never satisfy the appetite.

Dr. You take a little pudding then, and afterwards some cheese?

Pa. Oh yes! though I don't care much about them.
Dr. You take a glass of ale or porter


cheese? Pa. Yes, one or the other ; but seldom both.

Dr. You west-country people generally take a glass of Highland whiskey after dinner. Pa. Yes, we do ; it's good for digestion. Dr. Do you take any wine during dinner?

Pa. Yes, a glass or two of sherry, but I'm indifferent as to wine during dinner. I drink a good deal of beer. Dr. What quantity of port


drink? Pa. Oh, very little ; not above half a dozen glasses, or so.

Dr. In the west country, it is impossible, I hear, to dine. without punch?

Pa. Yes, sir; indeed 'tis punch we drink chiefly; but for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with me, I never take more than a couple of tumblers, or so, and that's moderate.

Dr. Oh, exceedingly moderate indeed! You then, after this slight repast, take some tea and bread and butter?

Pa. Yes, before I go to the counting-house to read the evening letters.

Dr. And on your return you take supper, I suppose ?

Pa. No, sir, I canna be said to tak supper; just something before going to bed; a rizzered haddock, or a bit of toasted cheese, or a half hundred of oysters or the like o' that, and may be, two thirds of a bottle of ale; but I tak no regular supper.




Dr. But


take a little more punch after that ? Pa. No, sir, punch does not agree with me at bedtime. I tak a tumbler of warm whiskey-toddy at night; it is lighter to sleep on.

Dr. So it must be, no doubt. This, you say, is your everyday life; but upon great occasions, you perhaps exceed a little?

Pa. No, sir, except when a friend or two dine with me, or I dine out, which as I am a sober family man, does not often happen.

Dr. Not above twice a week ?
Pa. No; not oftener.

Of course you sleep well and have a good appetite ? Pa. Yes, sir, thank God, I have; indeed, any ill heath that I have is about meal time.

Dr. (Assuming a severe look, knitting his brow, and lowering his eyebrows.) Now, sir, you are a very pretty fellow indeed; you come here and tell me you are a moderate

man ;


upon examination, I find by your own showing, that you are a most voracious glutton. You said you were a sober man, yet by your own showing you are a beer-swiller, a dram-drinker

, a wine-bibber, and a guzzler of punch. You tell me you eat indigestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep.— I see that you chew tobacco.—Now, sir, what human stomach can stand this ? Go home, sir, and leave your present course of riotous living, and there are hopes that your stomach

may recover its tone, and you be in good health, like your neighbors.

Pa. I'm sure, doctor, I'm very much obliged to you—(taking out a bundle of bank notes.)—I shall endeavor to

Dr. Sir, you are not obliged to me-put up your money, sir. Do you think I'll take a fee for telling you

know as well as myself? Though you're no physician, sir, you are not altogether a fool. Go home, sir, and reform, or take my word for it, your life is not worth half a year's purchase.

what you


Bowlin. Good day to your honor.
Captain. Good day, honest Jack.
Bowl. To-day is my captain's birth-day.
Capt. I know it.
Bowl. I am heartily glad on the occasion.
Capt. I know that too.

Bowl. Yesterday your honor broke your sea-foam pipe.

Capt. Well, sir booby, and why must I be put in mind of it ? it was stupid enough, to be sure,

but hark

ye, Jack, all men at times do stupid actions, but I never met with one who liked to be reminded of them.

Bowl. I meant no harm, your honor. It was only a kind of introduction to what I was going to say. I have been buying this pipe-head and ebony tube, and if the thing is not too bad, and my captain will take such a present on his birth-day for the sake of poor old Jack

Capt. Is that what you would be at—come, let's see.

Bowl. To be sure it is not sea-foam ; but my captain must think when he looks at it, that the love of old Jack was not mere foam neither.

Capt. Give it here, my honest fellow.
Bowl. You will take it?
Capt. To be sure I will.
Bowl. And will smoke it?
Capt. That I will. (Feeling in his pocket.)
Bowl. And will not think of giving me any thing in return?

Capt. (Withdrawing his hand from his pocket.) No, no.You are right.

Bowl. Huzza! now let mother Grimkin bake her almond cakes out of her daily pilferings and be hanged.

Capt. Fie, Jack! what's that you say ?

Bowl. The truth. I have just come from the kitchen, where she is making a great palaver about “her cake,” and “her cake,” and yet this morning she must be put in mind that it was her master's birth-day. Hang me, I have thought of nothing else this month.

Capt. And because you have a better memory, you must blame the

old woman.

Shame on you, Jack.
Bowl. Please your honor, she is an old-
Capt. Avast!

Bowl. Yesterday she made your wine cordial of sour beer, so to-day she makes you an almond cake of

Capt. Hold your tongue, sir. Hold your tongue.

Bowl. A’nt you obliged to beg the necessaries of life as if she were a pope or an admiral ? And last year when you was bled, though she had laid up chest upon chest full of linen, and all yours, if the truth was known, yet no bandage was found till I tore the spare canvas from my Sunday shirt to rig your honor's arm.

Capt. You are a scandalous fellow. (Throws the pipe back to him.) Away with you and the pipe to the dogs.

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