button on your coat. That's my way. Kittle them up wi' duplies, and
triplies, and monyplies, and a' the plies that's o' them--if thae papers
are allowed in the Hoose o' Lords--an', if they stir a fit, nail them
wi' a rejoinder and dilatory defences. Gie them't het, Skimclean. Gie
them't het; an' if a' winna do, sweep your opponent clean oot o' the
court wi' a multiplepoinding an' infeftment. That's the legal coorse,
accordin to the new form o' process--no Mr Eevory's, or Mr Berridges, or
the like o' thae auld forms--quite oot o' date noo."
"Jist my ain notion o' things preceesely, laird," replied Drumwhussle.
"Although I say't that shouldna say't, I maybe ken law as weel as some
that hae mair pretensions. A' the law in the country, laird, 's no to be
fan' under puthered weegs." (This with a look of great complacency.) "My
lair's maybe nae great things, but my law's guid. I'll haud up my face
to that ony day. An' I'm thinkin, laird, ye ken twa or three things in
that way yersel."
"I should," replied the laird, with a knowing smile.
"But ye'll never hae been in the Court o' Session, maybe," said
Skimclean.
"Revise the condescendence there, Drumwhussle," replied the laird. "A
score o' times at the least. It wad hae been a bonny business, indeed,
if I had never had a case in the Court o' Session. A man wad hae but
sma' pretension to respeck, in my opinion, that hadna been there wi'
half-a-dizzen."
We here take the liberty of interrupting, for a time, the colloquy of
Skimclean and his guest, for the purpose of saying, that, although we
have given, as we imagine, a pretty correct account of their
conversation on the occasion to which our story refers, we have by no
means done equal justice to the subject of their potations. On this
point we have said little or nothing, an omission which we beg now to
supply, by stating most explicitly, that, during the whole time they
were engaged in exchanging the sentiments which we have just recorded,
they had been also unremitting in their attention to the toddy jug,
which had three several times sank to the dregs under their persevering
devotions. It is not necessary to add, we should suppose, that this feat
was not performed with impunity, nor that it had the effect of
considerably deranging the faculties of the two lawyers. All this will
be presumed--and, if it be not presumed, let it be so immediately; for
it was the fact.
Both Skimclean and the laird were now in a state of great felicity and
personal comfort. They swore eternal friendship to each other at least
fifty times over, and on each occasion sealed their amiable
protestations by a cordial shaking of hands. But it was not love alone
they expressed for each other. There was respect too, the most profound
respect for each other's abilities and legal knowledge, declared in no
very measured terms. In truth, if their own statements on this subject
could have been credited, no two lawyers had ever got together who made
so near an approach to Coke and Lyttleton. At an advanced period of the
evening, and just after the fourth jug had been put upon active service,
Skimclean again adverted to his famous game-cock case, and, having
mentioned that he was going to Paisley on the following day, to call on
Quirkum, on the subject of carrying the said case to the House of Lords,
asked the laird if he would have any objection to go along with him and
assist in the consultation which would then and there take place.
"It wad be a great favour, laird," said Skimclean; "for ye ken twa heads
are better than ane, and three than twa, an', moreover, laird, to tell a
truth, there's twa or three points o' law that I'm no jist sure that Mr
Quirkum's clean up to, an' I wad like a man o' your knowledge to be
present. I dinna ken but you an' me, laird, wad bother the best o'
them."
The laird smiled slightly but complacently at this conjunct compliment,
and modestly said that he had never seen the "law-wir yet that he
couldna bambouzle. An' as to gaun in wi' ye the morn to Paisley,
Skimclean," he added, "that I'll do wi' great pleasure." This was said,
most assuredly, in all sincerity; for, next to the happiness of having a
plea of his own, was that of being allowed to have what may be called a
handling of the pleas of others; especially if they had a dash of the
spirit of litigation in them, and gave promise of a protracted and
obstinate fight; and this the laird saw, with intuitive tact, was the
character of Skimclean's.
This matter then settled, the two worthies proceeded to the discussion
of various other subjects, until the laird, finding that he could hold
out no longer, suggested, in the midst of a series of violent hiccups,
that they should "clo-close the record, and re-re-revise the
condescendence." Saying this, the laird got up to his feet, leaned his
hands upon the table, and as he swung backwards and forwards in this
attitude, gazed on his friend opposite with a look of drunken gravity.
"We maun clo-clo-close the record," he repeated, "and re-re-revise the
condescendence."
"That's no accordin to the form o' process, laird," replied Skimclean,
making an effort, but an unavailing one, to get up also to his feet.
"That's no accordin to form, laird," he said; and now making a virtue of
necessity, by throwing himself back in the chair which he found he could
not conveniently leave.
"Revise the condescendence, Skimclean," rejoined the laird, after a
pause, during which he had been employed in an attempt to collect his
scattered senses; an operation which was accompanied by sundry odd
contortions of countenance, especially a strange working of the lips. "I
say, revise the condescendence, Skimclean. It's baith accordin to law
an' to form. Ye're no gaun to instruck me, I houp, in a law process."
"Instruck or no instruck," replied Drumwhussle, with great confidence of
manner, "ye're as far wrang as ever Maggy Low was, when you speak first
o' closin the record an' then o' revisin the condescendence. Onybody
that has ony law in them at a' kens that the revisin o' a condescendence
taks place _before_ the closin o' the record, an' no after't."
"Before or after't, it's guid law," said the laird, doggedly, and still
rocking to and fro, as he leaned on the table, and continued gazing with
lacklustre eye in the face of his learned brother opposite. "It's guid
law, I'll uphaud; an' it's my opinion, Skimclean--an' I'll just tell
ye't to your face--that for a' your blether o' Latin, I dinna think ye
hae a' the law ye pretend to. The thorough knowledge is no in ye. That's
my opinion."
The reply to this sneer at Skimclean's legal acquirements was of as
summary and expressive a nature as can well be imagined. It was the
contents of a jug--said contents being somewhere about a quart of
boiling hot water--discharged with great force and dexterity full in the
face of the "soothless insulter," accompanied by the appropriate
injunction--"Tak that, ye auld guse; an' if that's no law, it's
justice."
"Revise _that_ condescendence," replied the laird, making a tremendous
effort to seize his antagonist across the table, in which effort the
said table instantly went over with a tremendous crash, sending every
individual article that it had supported into a thousand pieces. In the
midst of the wreck and ruin thus occasioned lay the prostrate person of
the laird, who had naturally gone down with the table, and who now, as
we have said, lay floundering amongst the debris, composed of broken
bottles, jugs, and glasses, with which the floor was covered.
"A clear case o' damages," shouted Skimclean.
"Revise the condescendence in that partikler," said the laird, rising to
his feet, and exhibiting sundry bleeding scars on his lugubrious
countenance. "That cock 'll no fecht, Drumwhussle. The case is no guid
in law. It wadna stan a hoast in the Court o' Session."
"Wull _that_ stan, then?" exclaimed Skimclean, making a lounge at the
laird's face with his closed fist, which took full effect upon the
enemy's left eye.
"I maun mak a rejoinder to _that_," said the laird, now attacking his
host in turn, and with such effect, as finally to floor him, being,
although the older, by much the stronger man--"I maun mak a rejoinder to
_that_," he said, first striking at, and then grappling, his antagonist,
when a deadly struggle ensued, which ended in both coming to the floor
with an appalling thud.
The laird, although taken from his feet, still maintained his physical
superiority by keeping the foe under him. He was uppermost, and
uppermost he determined to remain; and this triumphant position he
further secured himself in by seizing Skimclean by the neckcloth, and,
by the vigour of his hold, subjecting him to a fac-simile of the process
of strangulation.
"What think ye o' my law, noo, ye puir empty pretender?" said the laird,
as he gave the other twist to Drumwhussle's neckcloth--"you and yer
trash o' Latin, that ye ken nae mair aboot, I believe, than a cow kens
about a steam-engine."
"That's aboot yer ain knowledge o' law, I'm thinkin," replied Skimclean,
chokingly, but boldly; and in gallant defiance of his present adverse
circumstances. "I wad match ony coo I hae in my byre against ye at a
defeeckwalt point o' law."
"Do ye fin' _that_?" said the laird, twisting Drumwhussle's neckcloth
with increasing ferocity. "There's law for ye. There's the strong arm o'
the law for ye. Doin summary justice on an ignorant, pretendin idowit."
How or in what way this fierce struggle between the two lawyers would
have terminated, we cannot tell, as it was not permitted to attain its
own natural conclusion. It was interrupted. At the moment that the laird
had renewed his efforts on Skimclean's neckcloth, which the reader will
observe was doing the duty of a bowstring, the wife of the latter rushed
into the apartment, exclaiming--
"The Lord hae a care o' me! what's this o't?--what's this o't? What are
ye fechtin aboot, ye auld fules?"
"A case o' hamesookin, Jenny--a decided case o' hamesookin," shouted
Skimclean. "A man attacked an' abused in his ain hoose. That's
hamesookin, an' severely punishable by law."
"Tuts, confound yer law?--mind reason and common sense," said
Skimclean's wife, seizing the laird by the coattails, and dragging him
off her prostrate husband, of whose _penchant_ for law she had long been
perfectly sick. "Mind reason an' common sense, an' let alane law to them
it belangs to."
Whether it was that the combatants had expended all the present
pugnacity of their natures in the contest which had just been brought to
a close, or that the soft tones of Mrs Drumwhussle's voice had suddenly
allayed their ire, we know not; but certain it is, that the faces of
both the lawyers exhibited, all at once, and at the same instant, a
trait of amiable relaxation, indicative of a return of friendly feeling,
together with something like a sense of regret, and perhaps shame for
what had passed. It was then, under this change of sentiment, that
Skimclean replied, laughingly, to his wife--
"Weel, weel, gudewife, if the laird here's willin, we'll close the
record, an' let byganes be byganes."
"Wi' a' my heart," said the former; "for it's a case that'll no stan
law. Sae we'll just revise the condescendence, an' tak better care for
time to come. This wark's no accordin to law."
"Neither law, nor reason, nor sense," said Mrs Drumwhussle, who was a
rattling, but good-natured, motherly sort of woman. "Ye're jist a pair
o' auld fules--that's what ye are. Noo, laird," she continued, as she
turned round to that worthy--who presented rather an odd spectacle; his
person exhibiting, at this moment, a strange combination of ludicrous
points--extreme tallness, extreme thinness, extreme drunkenness, extreme
snuffiness, if we may use the expression, and a countenance marked and
mangled in a manner that was absolutely hideous to look upon, although
the application of a little simple water would have shown that the said
countenance was not, after all, very seriously damaged--"noo, laird,"
said Mrs Drumwhussle, laying her hand kindly on the shoulder of her
husband's guest, "ye'll jist stap awa hame, like a guid honest man as ye
are, an' you an' the gudeman 'll meet the morn, whan ye're baith
yersels, an' ye'll baith be as guid freens as ever--maybe a hantle
better; for I've kent folk that never could understan ane anither till
they had a guid fecht."
To the general tone of this mediatory interference, neither Skimclean
nor the laird offered any objection. Nay, as we have already shown, it
met with their decided approbation; but there was one clause in it, as
they themselves would have called it, which both peremptorily resented.
This was the insinuation that they were tipsy.
"Revise that part o' the condescendence, Mrs Drumwhussle," said the
laird, in allusion to the said insinuation. "I could discuss a point o'
law as weel as ever I did in my life. I'm as soun's a bell, woman."
"A' ticht an' richt, laird. We're baith that," said Skimclean,
staggering towards his guest. "For my pairt, I never was better in my
life. Never mair correck. Jenny, ye're wrang--clean wrang, I'm perfectly
_compous_."
"Aweel, it's perfectly possible," replied the latter, laughing; "but I
canna be far wrang in advising the laird here to stap his wa's hame, an'
you, Davie, to slip to yer bed."
"Ou, no, no, ye're no wrang there," said both the lawyers together; and
in evident satisfaction with the circumstance of Mr Drumwhussle's having
deserted the charge of inebriety, and founding upon other
grounds--"ye're no wrang there," repeated the laird; "for it's gettin
late, an' my road's nane o' the straughtest."
Having been provided with his hat and stick, and an old tartan cloak,
which was his constant companion in all his wanderings, the laird now
commenced his retreat out of the house, and had gained the outer door,
when his host shouted after him--
"Mind the consultation, laird--mind yer promise o' gaun to Paisley wi'
me the morn."
"I'll revise that condescendence, and decern as accords," replied the
laird, turning half round, to deliver himself of this mystical response.
Then, resuming his progress, he was soon quit of the house, but not of
the premises altogether, as was made manifest by a certain awkward
interruption he met with before he had gone fifty yards. This was by a
huge watch-dog, within the reach of whose chain one of the laird's lee
lurches had brought him. Availing himself of the tempting advantage, the
dog bolted, with a growl like that of a tiger, out of his wooden
tenement, and, in a twinkling had the laird fast by the cloak, at which
he commenced tugging with a violence which all its owner's efforts to
counteract, by dragging himself in an opposite direction, could not
overcome. Finding his exertions this way vain, and that a continuance of
them would only insure the dissolution of his favourite outer garment,
the laird turned upon his enemy, and, making some hits at him with his
stick--"Desert the diet, ye brute; an' bring yer action in a regular
form, an' accordin to law," he exclaimed, abruptly; and, by a dexterous
movement, avoiding a snap at his leg, which the dog at this moment
made--"Tak yer mittimus," he said, discharging another violent blow at
the animal, which, however, had only the effect of increasing the
latter's ferocity; for the dog now fairly leaped on his back, and
seizing him by the neck of the coat behind, laid him, in an instant,
prostrate in the mud. Having thus got the laird down, the dog, without
offering him further injury, planted a fore-leg on either side of him,
and, with his muzzle within half-an-inch of his face, commenced a series
of growls, "not loud, but deep," that indicated anything but a friendly
feeling towards his victim.
Even in these circumstances, however, the laird's deep sense of the
propriety of proceeding strictly "according to law" in all cases did not
desert him. Looking steadily at the dog, he thus addressed him, in a
clear, loud voice, imitating, as nearly as he could, the tones of a
court crier:--
"I, John Guidyill, Laird o' Scouthercakes, summon, warn, and charge you,
Skimclean's dug, to compear before His Majesty's justices o' the peace
for the shire o' Renfrew, within their ordinary court-place, in Paisley,
upon the 12th day o' October, 1817, at eleven o'clock forenoon, to
answer, at the instance o' the above-designed Laird o' Scouthercakes,
for an illegal assault made on the said laird's person, on the nicht o'
the 2d day o' October, in the aforesaid year, or in the month o'
September preceding, or the month o' November following. This I do on
the 2d day o' October, one thoosan aucht hunner an' seventeen years,
with certification as effeirs. John Guidyill.--There, noo, ye're
regularly ceeted," added the laird; "sae desert the diet for the
present; an' see that ye mak punctual compearance in the hoor o' cause."
Having thus delivered himself, the laird made another violent effort to
free himself from his captor, and to regain his feet. But, finding this
vain, he commenced a series of shouts for assistance, that had the
effect of bringing Mrs Drumwhussle and a formidable body of her
retainers to the rescue. By the aid of this friendly detachment, the
laird was immediately relieved from his perilous situation. On regaining
his feet--
"I tak ye a' witnesses," said the laird, "hoo I hae been abused wi' that
infernal brute o' yours; an' it's my opinion that I hae a guid case
baith against Skimclean an' his dug. If richtly argued, an action o'
damages wad lie, in my opinion, against them baith; an' decreet wad
follow, accordin to law, decernin the ane to be hanged, an' the ither to
be mulcted o' a soum not exceedin fifty puns sterlin, as law
directs--that's my opinion o' the case. But I'll revise the
condescendence, an' let Skimclean ken the result the morn."
Saying this, the laird gathered his cloak, in which there were now three
or four tremendous rents, around him, and stalked, or rather staggered
away, on his progress home, which he reached in safety, and without
meeting with any further interruption.
Faithful to his promise, and oblivious of all causes of difference with
his host of the preceding night--an obliviousness for which a night's
sleep and a return to sobriety, co-operating with the irresistible
temptation of being permitted to interfere with the latter's law-plea,
will sufficiently account--the laird waited, on the following day, on
Skimclean, and announced his readiness to accompany him to Paisley, as
had been previously arranged between them. Skimclean having, in turn,
expressed his sense of the obligation, the two lawyers shortly after set
out for the town just named--a distance of from five to six miles, which
they beguiled with learned discussions on the various points of law that
had come within the range of their respective experiences. On reaching
Paisley, our two worthies directed their steps to the residence of Mr
Quirkum, whom they luckily found at home. This worthy limb of the law
was a stout, burly personage, with a loud voice, and tolerably confident
manner, although it was pretty generally alleged that his skill in his
profession was by no means very profound. This lack of legal knowledge,
however, was compensated by a bold bearing, an unhesitating promptitude
of decision, an utter fearlessness in delivering an opinion, whether
right or wrong. Such, then, was the gentleman to whom Skimclean
introduced the laird, as "an intimate frien, wha kent twa or three
things in the law line, an' whom he had jist brocht in to gie him an
inklin o' what was gaun on in the gemm-cock case, in the whilk, he bein
a near neebor, he took a freinly interest."
"Glad to see your _learned_ friend, Skimclean," said Quirkum, who
affected the being a bit of a wag in his own way. "He'll perhaps help us
with a little useful advice, which, you know, is always welcome."
And Quirkum rubbed his hands with a sort of professional glee, and
chuckled facetiously at his own banter. Not perceiving the irony of the
lawyer's remarks, the laird smiled complacently, and said--
"That he didna pretend to ony very great skeel in law matters, although
he had had some experience in that way, too. But that he wad be very
glad to gie ony hints that micht appear to him, on revisin the
condescendence in his frien Skimclean's case, to be likely to be o'
service."
"Muckle obliged, I'm sure, laird," said Drumwhussle; "an' sae is my
frien Quirkum here, I daresay." Then addressing himself to the latter,
"Wad ye be sae guid, noo, as gie oor frein here an inklin o' oor case. I
hae explained to him the gruns o' oor action; but ye can let him mair
fully into the merits o' the case."
Now, Quirkum, although, as already said, no great lawyer, was by no
means destitute of common sense. In fact, he was rather clever in a
general sort of way, and this cleverness enabled him to see at once what
kind of a character the laird was. Skimclean he knew well before, and
according to this knowledge he acted on the present occasion. He rattled
over a given quantity of law terms, galloped through two or three
varieties of legal processes, and concluded by asking the laird's
opinion of what they had done, what they were doing, and what they
should do. Confounded with the volubility of Quirkum, of whose oration
he did not comprehend one word, and yet unwilling to acknowledge his
difficulty, the laird adopted the safe course of merely shaking his
head, and looking wise. For some seconds he uttered not a word. At
length--
"It seems to me a gey steeve case," he said. "There's twa or three
points in't that wad require consideration, an' on the whilk I wadna
consider myself jist free to gie an aff-haun opinion. Noo, this bein the
case, I'll jist revise the condescendence in my ain mind, an' gie my
frien, Skimclean here, the benefit o' the process at anither meetin."
This Quirkum thought pretty well from a man whom he perfectly knew did
not understand a word of what he had said; and he knew this, because he
had not understood a word of it himself. Not being possessed of this
important secret, however, Skimclean thought the laird's remarks highly
creditable to his prudence; and, having expressed himself to this
effect, concluded by inviting Quirkum and his brother lawyer to adjourn
with him to the Brown Cow Inn, to "tak a bit chack o' dinner;" adding
facetiously, "that, though law was a very guid thing, it wadna fill the
wame."
The laird smiled, and Quirkum laughed outright at the sally, and both at
once accepted the invitation by which it was associated. Acceptation was
speedily followed by accomplishment. In little more than a
quarter-of-an-hour after, the whole three were seated around a
comfortably-covered table in a small, snug back-parlour in the Brown Cow
Inn. Dinner despatched, tumblers were filled up, and a very pleasant
career of talking and drinking commenced, and continued without
interruption for somewhere about a couple of hours. At the end of this
period, however, a circumstance occurred which somewhat disturbed the
quiet sociality of the party. A person, evidently the worse of drink,
unceremoniously entered the room, and, seemingly unconscious that he was
intruding, deliberately planted himself in a chair directly opposite the
laird. It was some seconds before he appeared to recognise any of the
party--as, indeed, it was hard he should, for he knew and was known to
none of them, but one. This one was our friend Guidyill, and him he knew
to his cost; the laird having once defeated him in a law-plea about a
certain pathway which passed through the corner of a field on the
farmer's property. For the laird, therefore, this man, whose name was
Moffat, entertained anything but a friendly feeling. It was, however,
some little time before he was aware of his being in the presence of his
ancient enemy on the present occasion, the liquor he had swallowed
having considerably impaired his powers of discernment. These, however,
at length helped him to a knowledge of the fact; and, when they had done
so--
"Ho, ho, laird, are _ye_ here?" he exclaimed, with a look and manner in
which all the grudge he bore Guidyill was made manifest. "Ony law-pleas
in the win' 'enow, laird--eh?"
"Was ye wantin ane?" said the laird, coolly. "I thocht I had gien ye
aneugh o' that."