hope ye didna forget to gie in the marriage lines to the minister?" (The
session-clerk was ill at the time.)
"Save us a', hinny!" said I, "weel, I am sure that dings everything!
But, as sure as death! as I told ye, I was sae tired, that I never
minded a word about it till bed-time, when I had my waistcoat unbuttoned
and my shoon off, and I couldna be fashed to put them on again, and, at
ony rate, it was owre late."
"Very weel, Willie," says she, and apparently a good deal hurt, "I
wouldna thought it o' ye--but no matter."
"No, love," said I, "it's no great matter, sure enough; for this is only
Saturday nicht, and I'll just call in at the manse in the by-going, as I
gang hame, and tell the minister a' about it. The thing can be done in a
minute."
"Indeed, no," said she, "though I should never be cried,[7] ye are to go
no such way. This is Saturday nicht--the morn is the Sabbath, and the
minister will be at his studies, and ye are not to disturb him upon my
account."
[Footnote 7: Cried--Publication of banns.]
"Very well, love," said I, "we'll just have to put off a week, then."
"Maybe sae," said she. But I thought there was something unco dry in her
manner o' saying "maybe sae." However, as I couldna be fashed to call
upon the minister that nicht, I took nae mair notice o' the subject.
I could hardly get a word out o' her after this, for above an hour that
I remained in her company. However, she rather came to a little (for she
was a kind-hearted lassie), when we were about to part; and we promised
faithfully to meet one another at the usual trysting-place, on the
Wednesday nicht following, at eight o'clock, within a minute; and I was
to have everything arranged wi' the minister and the joiner in the
meantime.
On the Sunday morning, the minister passed me between the manse and the
kirk, and, says he, quite familiarly--for he was a man that had nae
stiffness about him--
"Willie, I thought you was to have been cried to-day."
"I beg your pardon, sir," said I; "but it was all my neglect; for I
couldna be fashed until last nicht, and then I thought ye would be at
your studies, and it was owre late to trouble ye."
"You were very considerate," said he, wi' a smile; "but I'll save you
the trouble next week."
"I'll be obliged to ye, sir," said I, taking off my hat.
In going home, I overtook the joiner--no, I'm wrong, the joiner overtook
me--and, after he had observed that it was a fine day, and I had said it
was, and he had asked me what I thought o' the sermon, and so on, I said
to him--"Now, I expect that ye'll no disappoint me wi' the furniture."
"Ye needna be feared o' that, Mr Grant," said he; "ye ken ye proposed
that it was to be a ready-money transaction. It's no every day that we
meet wi' jobs o' that kind, and ye may tak my word on't, I'll no
disappoint ye--both for your sake and mine."
"Weel," thought I, "that's twa things aff my head--Isabella will surely
be pleased now (for they ca'd her Isabella). I've been fortunate in
meeting wi' them baith--in killing twa birds wi' ae stane."
But the appointed Wednesday nicht came, and perfectly do I recollect,
that a dark, dirty, gousty nicht it was. I had full three miles to go to
see her, and about seven o'clock I pulled out my watch, and I went to
the door. A sma' drizzling rain came battering on my face. I looked a'
round about the heavens, and saw that there was nae appearance o' the
nicht's clearing up, and, thinks I--"Weel, she'll ne'er think o' coming
to meet me the nicht. She'll no be sae daft. It's o' nae use o' me gaun,
and--I canna be fashed."
So I went into the house again, and sat down quite contented; and a
nicht or twa after, the weather having settled, I went to see her at her
faither's. The auld folk received me, as usual, very kindly; and the
auld man got a seat for me next the fire, and inquired if there were any
news--while his guidwife asked me if I wadna hae my stockings changed,
as the roads were very wet, and my feet might be damp--and I thanked
her, and said "No." But there sat _my intended_, plaiting at a
cap-border, or frill, or something o' that sort, as stiff and as silent
as a stucco image, never letting on that she either saw or heard me. I
spoke to her twice or thrice, and she gied a sort o' low, half cough,
half _hem!_ but not a syllable did I get out o' her. Never did she look
to the side o' the house I was on. Her head seemed to be fixed in a
blacksmith's vice in an opposite direction, and dear kens what sort o'
cap or frill it was she keepit plait, plait, plaiting at; but her task
was never like to come to an end, and she keepit pingle, pingling, and
nip, nipping at it wi' a knife, until my patience was fairly worn out.
In my opinion her fingers had discovered the perpetual motion; and when
I had sat until vexation and anxiety were like to choke me, I felt a
sort o' ha!--ha!--haing! in my throat, as though I could hae burst out
into a fit o' passion, or greeting, or I dinna ken what--and wi' a great
struggle I got up, and I managed to say--
"Will ye speak at the door, Isabella dear?"
"_I canna be fashed!_" said she.
O sir! sir! had ye experienced what I felt at that moment. The
lounderings o' my faither, my mother, and my dominie, and the slights o'
former sweethearts, were a mere naething to what her answer caused me to
endure. I expected naething but that I would drop down upon the floor.
"Oh, ye foolish lassie, ye!" said her mother, who was sorry for me,
"what do ye mean?"
"Get up!" said her faither.
"I canna be fashed!" said she again, more cuttingly than before, and
half turned her een upon me, as she said it, in a manner that gaed
through my breast as if ye had drawn a sharp knife across it.
Weel, sir, our names were ca'ed on the Sunday following; and between the
first day o' their being published, and the day on which the marriage
was to take place, I was three or four times back and forward at her
faither's--but I got nae mair out o' her. I almost thought that I ought
to stop the banns; but I thought, again, that that would be very unco
like, and very contrary to what I wished; so I allowed them to go on,
Sunday after Sunday.
I never imagined but that she was just in the pet at me having broken my
tryst, and that, like everybody that was in the pet, she would come out
o't when she found it necessary, and the sooner frae being left to
hersel. But, on the very day we had fixed for the wedding, and when the
best-man and I went to her faither's house, expecting to find her and
the best-maid, and the whole o' them, in readiness to go before the
minister--to my unutterable astonishment and dismay, there was she,
sitting in her morning gown, as unconcerned as a judge, just as if
naething had been to happen.
"Mercy me! Isabella!" says I, "are ye no ready?--where's the women?"
"Ready!" returned she--"what for?--what do ye mean?--what women?"
Oh! guid gracious! I'll never forget the sensation that I felt at that
moment. I'm surprised that I didna drop dead on the floor. "Isabella,"
said I, "are ye no perfectly aware that this is our wedding-day, and
that we were to be at the manse at twelve o'clock precisely?"
"Ay!" said she, "had ye keepit your tryst at such a time, and at such a
place, nae doubt this would have been the day; but ye couldna be fashed
to keep it then--and I canna be fashed now."
"Oh, confound it!" cried I; "Isabella, do ye want to drive me mad?"
"I dinna think there's ony danger o' that," replied she.
Vexation and surprise put me fairly beyont mysel--I was taken in a
moment.
"Weel!" exclaimed I, "ye'll rue it, Isabella! ye'll rue it--there shall
nae woman mak a fool o' me!"
"Nor man o' me," said she.
"Be it sae," said I; "yet, guidness me! you're no in earnest?"
"Earnest!" said she; "I tell you I canna be fashed."
At the sound o' the terrible words, I banged out o' the house. I never
stopped till I came to Dunbar, and there, at the very moment I arrived,
I took the coach for Edinburgh; and there I stopped but two days till I
set off for London, for my heart was in such a terrible state o'
perturbation, that I could have gone to the world's end, ay, and round
it, and round it again, if I had had the means, in order that I might
have found rest.
It seems that poor Isabella thought that I would come back--and the
best-man persuaded her that I would--and she went to dress hersel, and
sent for the best-maid. But little did she understand the character she
had to deal wi'. I was either a' laziness, or a' desperation. I knew no
medium; and I have no doubt that, before she got her hair dressed, and
her gown fairly on, I was half-way to Edinburgh--for I flew to Dunbar as
though furies had pursued me.
But, sir, the upshot was, that Isabella died a spinster, and I am a
bachelor until this day, and will be, until the last day o' my
existence; and thus did the four never-aneugh-to-be-detested words--"I
canna be fashed"--place eternity, yea, an infinite chasm, between me and
the only woman for whose sake I could have laid down my life, as cheaply
as though it hadna been worth a sixpence.
Ye may think that the few instances I have related to ye, and their
consequences, would have been aneugh to have cured me o' ever making use
o' the words again--but ye shall see.
Now, you'll observe that, before the time I'm speaking o', my faither
and mother were both dead, as well as two o' their family, so that there
were but three o' us left, and we sold the property, and divided the
money amongst us in equal shares. Therefore, when I got to London, I was
not altogether bare-handed. Now, to my shame, I must confess that I had
not been long there, till the remembrance o' Isabella, and the cause
that had provoked me to come to desert her, were almost forgotten; for
ye must remember that absence makes many changes--and there is many a
bonny face in London. So, after I had looked about me for a week or two,
I thought to mysel that I saw nobody doing better than the keepers o'
wine and spirit vaults. It seemed a' ready-money; it was just nipper
after nipper--that is, glass after glass, owre the counter--the money
down, and done wi' it. I resolved to become a wine-vault keeper, and I
looked around to see where such premises were to let. At length I
pitched upon a shop that I thought would suit me exactly, on the north
side of Clerkenwell Street, and nearly facing Jerusalem Passage.
There were a very great number o' compositors and pressmen, and
bookbinders and gold-beaters, and other trades, in the immediate
neighbourhood; and I understood that they were in the habit o' making
the vaults which I was about to take their pay-house and house-o'-call.
So I took the house, and entered upon the business, and, in a very short
time, I thought very little about Isabella, or the grief she had caused
me. I hadna long opened the house until the compositors and the
pressmen, the bookbinders, gold-beaters, and others, a' came back to it.
They were weel-spoken, civil lads. They spent a deal o' money, and I
certainly tried to be as civil and obliging to them as I could; and, in
short, they called me "a fine chap," and "the best Scotsman out of all
_sorts_ they had ever met with."
Weel, in a week or two, some o' them began to get on to my slates--not
by name, for I didna like to ask it; it was impudent; and, thought I,
oh, it might spoil their custom at ony rate; and I canna be fashed; it
would be an awfu trouble writing names upon a slate, especially the
names o' so many. But I knew them a' by head-mark, and I thought there
was no need for it.
However, one got into my books, and another got into my books; but, no,
I am wrong there again, for they only got on to the slates--I couldna be
fashed to carry them into the books; I thought there was nae need for
it; they generally paid upon the Saturday nicht, and there was nae fear
o' me forgettin.
But, in a short time, there never was a Saturday nicht but there was
always some o' my debtor customers amissing; and when I inquired for any
o' them, the reply was--
"Oh, you're one of his ghosts, are you? well, I wish you may get
it--he's _got the bag_.[8]"
[Footnote 8: Got the bag--_i. e._, paid off, or discharged.]
"So, so," I would say; "and he is off with his finger in my bag too."
Well, in this way I lost more money than I can tell. But I lost it in
another way also, and from the same cause. You know that in London every
public-house has a porter-walk, or a beer-walk, as they call it, the
same as the rounds of a milk-woman here, and they go round twice a-day,
at dinner-time and supper-time. Well, to my surprise, in a few months I
got the best beer-walk in all London. I couldna think how it was. I was
almost rivalling the Alderney dairy which was at my very hand, for I had
to engage two pot-boys to carry out my supply. But I gave credit; I
trusted to the lads to keep an account of what they took out, and they
trusted to me. I said "I couldna be fashed wi' the like o' that;" but
they said they gave me the names and number o' the individuals with whom
they had intrusted both porter and pewter-pots; and if I did not mark it
down and see after it, it was my look-out, and not theirs. In this way,
I believe, I lost five butts o' porter within twelve months. Yet, sir,
these were not the only griefs and the only losses that the four words
which are the subject of my story have brought upon me. Not only did I
frequently neglect to insert in my own books what I had sent out on
credit, but I as frequently delayed to mark down what had been sent to
me by the brewer or distiller, and said, "Hoot, I haena time--I canna be
fashed to enter it to-day, I will do it the morn, or the next day." But
the next day and the next came, and I could be less fashed than ever,
and the entry remained untouched. Many a heavy loss I am sensible this
has caused me; and often has it made me appear as a rogue, when my
intentions were honest.
Sir, what I have told ye is but a sample o' what "_I canna be fashed_"
has cost me. I could relate to you a thousand o' its consequences; but
half-a-dozen are as good, and perhaps better than a thousand, by way o'
example.
I had been about fifteen years in business, when I became bond, for a
friend that I thought I could have trusted as my own brother, to the
extent o' three thousand pounds. I was certain he was perfectly solvent,
and from the acquaintance I had had o' him, I could nae mair hae doubted
him than I could hae doubted that I was the son o' my mother. But a few
weeks after I had signed the bond, a mutual acquaintance called upon me,
and, says he--
"Grant, you have acted like a fool."
"I dinna doubt," says I, for I was perfectly aware that I often had;
"but what do ye mean to be at?"
"Why," says he, "So-and-so has taken you in. He is preparing to be off,
bag and baggage, for America, and you will be left to pay the piper."
"Oh, ye are a suspicious wretch," says I; "man, I couldna believe the
like o' that if ye were to swear it to me."
"Believe it or not," says he, "if you don't see after it instantly, your
three thousand pounds are gone."
"Hoot! babbles!" said I, "the man's daft!--do ye think I dinna ken him
better than that? The man is as sure as the bank. I would be the last
man he would injure a farthing--I ken that weel aneugh. But, at ony
rate, I am particularly busy, and I canna be fashed wi' ony nonsense o'
the kind; so ye may keep yoursel easy, and I am only sorry that ye
should hae such an opinion o' ony friend o' mine."
"Canna be fashed!" cried my acquaintance, hurrying from the shop; "what
a deuced fool! Grant, you'll repent it."
I laughed at the man; for I had perfect confidence in my friend, and I
knew that he had property worth three times the money that I was bond
for him.
On the very next day, the same acquaintance came into my house very
hastily, and says he--
"Grant, if you don't look after your money, and that very sharply, you
will find your friend's property is no go, and you are in for paying the
three thousand."
"Ye dinna mean to say the like o' that?" said I.
"Say that, you blockhead!" returned my acquaintance--"wherefore wouldn't
you believe me yesterday?" And placing his arm through mine, he dragged
me out o' the house. We reached the habitation o' the worthy gentleman
for whom I was surety in the sum o' three thousand precious pounds
sterling. But he was off--off like a bird whose nest has been robbed o'
its eggs. Twelve hours before, he had sailed for America, or some other
quarter o' the globe; but where I never knew.
"Come home, Grant," said my friend, "don't distress yourself now."
"Oh, dinna speak to me," says I--"I canna be fashed; my three thousand
pounds!--my poor three thousand pounds!"
We went into a tavern, and I drank out o' pure desperation until I could
hardly stand; and as we were going home I fell, and I dislocated my arm,
or I broke it; at ony rate I did something to it, and it never was like
to get better; and my friends advised me to send for a surgeon--but----
"What to do wi' a surgeon?" says I; "I canna be fashed wi' them. The arm
will get better itsel."
But from that day until the present hour, I have never had the right use
o' it. It made me useless, in a great measure, in the way o' business.
Therefore I sold the goodwill o' my house, and wi' the other little
remains o' what I had saved, I came down here, just to live as easy and
as cheap as possible. And now, sir, as ye have seen what a _great
gainer_ I have been by the words "_I canna be fashed_," I hope and
implore ye will never use them again, but take a warning by the example
o' Willie Grant.
TALES OF THE EAST NEUK OF FIFE.
THE CASTLE OF CRAIL; OR, KING DAVID AND MAUDE.
"Ev'n kings hae taen a queen out o' the plain,
And what has been before may be again."--ALLAN RAMSAY.
The reign of the illustrious Malcolm III., surnamed Canmore, King of
Scotland, which began in the year 1057, was not more distinguished for
heroism and literature than for love. He was both a religious and a
valiant king, and was often victorious against the Danes, who frequently
invaded Scotland. In his time, William, Duke of Normandy, conquered
England, and in the great battle of Hastings, which took place in 1066,
killed King Harold. Edgar, the lawful heir to the English crown, seeing
the country conquered, and the nobles routed and dispersed, took
shipping with his mother and sisters, and arrived in the Frith of Forth,
and landed at Queensferry, which received its name from Margaret, the
eldest sister of Edgar, whom King Malcolm afterwards married. King
Malcolm was killed at the siege of Alnwick by Robert Moubray, who,
unarmed, upon a light horse, came out of Alnwick Castle, with a lance in
his hand, and bearing the keys of the castle upon its point.
King Malcolm, while earnestly regarding the keys, was stabbed by Moubray
through the left eye to the brain, and died instantly. King William the
Conqueror, in consequence of this achievement, changed the name of
Moubray to that of Percy, of whom are descended the Dukes of
Northumberland.
After sundry usurpations, Edgar and Alexander, the first and second sons
of King Malcolm, severally reigned for a number of years, and died
childless; and in 1124, David I., the hero of our tale, ascended the
throne. He possessed a large share of his father's virtues, and during
his reign cultivated those arts and sciences which Malcolm had
encouraged. His heart was particularly susceptible of the tender
passion, and of the power of beauty. It is a well-established historical
fact, that King David occasionally resided at the Castle of Crail, which
stood on a rock overhanging the harbour, and vestiges of this royal
residence still remain. A summer-house now stands on the site,
surrounded by a large garden; and the place is sometimes occupied by the
owner, a landed gentleman in the neighbourhood, and his friends, for the
purposes of good fellowship and social intercourse.
While residing at the Castle of Crail, the king and his younger nobles
resolved on partaking of the wild sports of the neighbourhood; and with
this view they proceeded one day, well mounted, and attended by the
hounds, to Kingsbarns, a fine tract of land belonging to the crown,
where the grain was stored in barns for payment of the king's rents; and
from thence they passed on to an extensive and thickly-wooded
district--in fact, a large forest, which now constitutes a considerable
portion of the Parish of St Andrews and surrounding parishes. The
ancient name of this district was _Cursus Apri_, or, the Boar-Chase, and
hence is derived the present name of the village contiguous,
"Boar-hills."
Having started a wild boar out of this forest, it took a westerly course
towards Kingsmuir (which, as its name implies, also belonged to the
crown), and the party set off in hot pursuit. This muir, now highly
cultivated, was, at the time to which we refer, a waste or common of
little value, and on which many of the neighbouring proprietors, in
consequence, claimed a servitude right of pasturage; but it was under an
officer of the crown, styled "Heritable Keeper of the Kingsmuir." Here,
then, while engaged in the exciting sport of the chase of the boar
(which, in the end, was killed at Kingscairn Mill), a deer, a fox, and a
wild cat also broke cover, and the attention of the hunters and hounds
being thus divided, the party separated, and the king found himself
alone upon the muir.
David was in the prime of life--a very handsome man, and of princely
bearing, and, while thus unattended and unknown, he met with a lovely
young shepherdess in a lonely part of the muir, tending her father's
sheep. The name of the young woman, he found, was Maude, or Matilda,
and, having inquired of her where she abode, he departed, resolving to
cultivate the acquaintance he had thus accidentally formed. He
frequently visited the shepherdess after this (who was entirely ignorant
of his rank), in the capacity of a private gentleman, and her
conversation was his delight. There was something mysterious to him in
her deportment and her accomplishments: she possessed the strictest
innocence and the most dignified bearing without the slightest
embarrassment. Though plainly attired, "grace was in all her steps," and
every action exhibited courtly propriety and ease. Though her
observations were chiefly confined to her flocks, and to rural affairs,
yet she would occasionally surprise the king with her remarks upon
astronomy, history, geography, morals, and agriculture, which bespoke a
mind informed far above the common level. Being thus engaging in her
mind and manners, it was not to be wondered at that every additional
visit increased the love and affection of the astonished king, whose
dignity was her torture. His passion grew stronger every day.