80 A PARTY AFTER THE SHEPHERD'S OWN MIND. ain mind. And there they were a' sittin on chairs roun' the room, as I entered, accordin to agreement, wi' my plaid, staff in haun, and dowg at fit, a great-grandson o' Hector's. What he thocht I canna say, but I could hae sworn, sir, that they were sheep. The same large, licht, mild, rather unmeanin een-the same lang, white smooth faces as the cheviots-and the same lip-like noses-formin in fact atween the twa but ae fetur, owerhanging their mouths, without in ony way interferin wi' the feedin-and then a' at ance the same baa-baabaa-maa-maa-maaa;—for rams, and ewes, and wethers, and gimmers, and hoggs, and lambs, had been a' gathered thegither frae mony pastures into ae hirsel'-a' to do honour to the Ettrick Shepherd. Tickler. Not by any means an unoriginal idea. Shepherd. Were it no a pure maitter o' fack, it micht pass for wut-for wut is a sayin at ance felt by the auditor to be baith apt and new-givin rise in his mind to wonder that he hadna thocht o' sayin't himsel, sorrow that he didna say't, and generally conviction that to hae said it was ayont his power. North. James, what is your opinion of the state of public affairs? Shepherd. O, sir! but yon was like to be a great national calamity! North. Probably it was, James. Pray, what was it? Shepherd. The horizon was black indeed-the tempests were about to break lowse frae their slumbers-and we heard a mutterin sound as o' the angry sea. North. I have no sort of doubt of it whatever-but I forget the particulars. Shepherd. There were nae particulars—and it was the want o' them that made it sae awfu'-at least I saw nane deservin the name o' particulars in the newspapers; a' wore a general look o' danger-the fear was universal-and therefore I was justified in sayin, as I did the noo, "O, sir! but yon was like to be a great national calamity!" North. I devoutly trust, James, the storm's blown over. The stocks fell doun a' at ance, like quicksiller in a barometer, ever sae mony degrees-thretty or thereabouts in the twunty-four 1 Hirsel-flock. THE TAILORS' STRIKE. 81 hours-for folk feared a national bankruptcy, and in sic panic wha wad buy in? North. The national credit must have received a shock. But how? Do relieve my anxiety, James. Shepherd. The greatest pairt o' the poppilation o' the island -an overwhelmin majority-were on the eve o' emigratin to America. They had secured their fraucht and passage, and were only waitin for a change o' wund-as a freen wrote me frae Portsmouth-to rin through the Needles. What that meant I knaw not-but that the British navy was hired for the simmer frae the Admiralty for the purpose aforesaid, I ken to be a fack-and Sir James Graham fand securities that it was to mak twa trips. O, sir! but yon was like to be a great national calamity! Tickler. The Plague? Shepherd. Far waur than the Plague-'cause threatenin to be mair universal-though, like the Plague, it was in Lunnon -thank heaven-where it first brak out THE TAILORS' STRIKE! North. 'Twas an appalling event-and, like the great earthquake at Lisbon, was, no doubt, felt all over Europe. Shepherd. Ay-at the great earthquake o' Lisbon, sir, I've heard tell that the waters o' Loch Lomond ran sky-high as in storm-and, at the great Tailor-strike o' Lunnon, I daur to say that the kilts alang its shores flew up as in whurlwunds, exposing the hurdies o' a thousan' John Heelandmans. North. Buller, how picturesque ! The Shepherd is the most poetical of political economists. Shepherd. For dinna tell me that kilts are ae thing and breeks anither-they baith alike appertain to the person, and the same pairt o' the person. A' the causes that affeck the tredd in breeks, affeck nearly or remotely, immediately or after a lang lapse o' years, the tredd in kilts - a' the usefu' arts, and the fine anes too-and a fortiori, them that's at ance usefu' and fine, and aboon a' tailorin-bein' a' conneckit by inveesible threeds-ony feck o' which bein' cut or run, or runkled or ravelled, the rest feel it like a speeder's wab-and shrink up till the haill commercial system is disordered and deranged, and the social system too-and the political likewise and the moral also-and if sae, hoo can the religious escape-till the universe itsel seems to be rushin intil ruins, VOL. IV. F 82 A FUNERAL DURING THE STRIKE. and it requires nae seer to predick that there is speedily about to be an end o' a' things-and the heavens and the earth reduced back by a grand convulsion o' nature to their original chawos. North. Let us hope there may be some little exaggeration Shepherd. No a grain. Did you no listen to the owerpoorin eloquence o' the Maisters? I hae been only usin some o' their langage, subdued doun to Noctes pitch. The een o' a' Britain, Stultz said, was upon them North. "They read their history in a nation's eyes." Shepherd. And they were a' fu' o' tears! The nation grat while it glowered Buller. And significantly smote its thigh. Tickler. Methought I met Sir Henry Hardinge1 in Bond Street without his coat-arm in arm with a member who had dispensed with his breeches; in the rear I saw a flaming patriot, not unlike Lord Nugent, with nothing but his shirtwhile "A painted vest Prince Vortigern had on, Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won." Shepherd. Haw! haw! haw! Tickler. Funerals were no more black-jobs. Shepherd. Gude again. Tickler. See that chief mourner in red breeches yellow vest, with long flapping lappets—and coat bright with the purple light of love-a superb dress got up by his greatgreat-great-grandsire, in honour of the Restoration - and in the 1834 worn by a disconsolate son, but determined antiTrades-Unionist, strong in filial love and patriotism, following, like the fragment of a weeping rainbow, a Conservative father to the grave ! Shepherd. What o' dee'd he? What dee'd he o'? At Shepherd. In the midst o' a great national calamity, hoo indifferent, alas ! grows the heart to individual distress! ony other time the thocht o' sic a funeral would hae been affectin-but noo I can hear o't without a tear. North. The misery was confined to the metropolis. The 1 Afterwards Lord Hardinge. A STRIKE IN THE FOREST. 83 rural districts at least providentially escaped the infec tion Shepherd. Yet the complaint was fearsomely contagiousand rinnin like wildfire through the streets o' Lunnon. Tickler. Where first did it break out? Shepherd. Beneath a sky-licht. It raged awfully in the attics afore it got doun to the other flats-and howp grew seik and dee'd on seein and hearin't roarin out o' the wundows o' the grund-flat. North. A fine subject for an Epic. Buller. Better fitted, perhaps, sir, for the drama. Yet the nation, I fear, has lost its love for the highest and deepest tragedy—and to rouse it even by such a theme would require more than the genius of another Shakespeare. Tickler. The Flints flash fire, and the day of the Dungs is gone.1 1 2 Shepherd. The rural districts, as you ca' them, Mr North, haena aye escaped sic a calamity. I weel remember, in the year wan, a like visitation in the Forest. It wasna on sae big a scale - for the boonds wadna admit o' its bein' sae --but the meesery was nae less-though contrackit within a narrower circle. Tickler. Diffused over a wider sphere. North. When? Tickler. And how? Shepherd. The Tailor at Yarrow Ford, without havin shown ony symptoms o' the phoby the nicht afore, ae morning at sax o' clock-strack! North. How dreadful ! Shepherd. You may weel say that, sir. 'Twas just at the dawn o' the Season o' Tailors, when a' ower the Forest there begins the makin o' new claes and the repairin o' auldNorth. Making-as Bobby says "The auld claes look amaist as weel's the new." Shepherd. The maist critical time o' the haill year. 1 "The tailors who held out for the advance were honoured with the name of Flints, while those who continued to work at the former prices were called Dungs."-American Editor. 2 Wan-one. "The year wan"—an ellipsis for the year 1801. 84 SPREAD OF THE STRIKE. Shepherd. At sax he strack and by nine it was kent frae Selkirk to the Grey-Mare's Tail. A' at ance-no ordinar claes only—but mairrage-shoots and murnins were at a deid staun. A' the folk in the Forest saw at ance that it was impossible decently to get either married or buried. For, wad ye believe't, the mad body was aff ower the hills, and bat1 Watty o' Ettrick Pen! Of coorse he strack-and in his turn aff by a short cut to the Lochs, and bat Bauldy o' Bourhope, wha loupt frae the buird like a puddock, and flang the guse in the fire, swearin by the shears, as he flourished them round his head, and then sent them intil the ass-hole, that a' mankind micht thenceforth gang nakit for him up to the airmpits in snaw! North. We are all listening to you, James, with the most intense interest. Shepherd. The Three Tailors formed themsels intil a union -and boond themsels by an aith-the words o' which hae never transpired-but nae dout they were fearsome; and they ratified it—it has been said—wi' three draps each o' their ain bluid, let out wi' the prick o' a needle-no to shue anither steek gin the Forest were to fa' doun afore them on its knees! North. Impious! Shepherd. But the Forest had nae sic intention and bauldly stood up again' the Rebellion. Auld Mr Laidlaw-the faither o' your freens, Watty, George, and James-took the lead-and there was a gatherin on Mount Benger—the same farm that, by a wonnerfu' coincidence, I afterwards came to hauld at which resolutions were sworn by the Forest no to yield, while there was breath in its body, though back and side micht gang bare. I there made ma maiden speech; for it wasna ma maiden speech-though it passed for such, as often happens the ane ye heard, sir-ma first in the Forum. North. I confess I had my suspicions at the time, James. I thought I saw the arts of the sophist in those affected hesitations and that I frequently heard, breaking through the skilful pauses, the powers, omnipotent in self-possession, of the practised orator. Shepherd. Never was there sic a terrible treeo as them o' Yarrow Ford, Ettrick Pen, and Bourhope! Three decenter tailor lads, a week afore, ye micht hae searched for in vain 1 Bat-bit. |