After Tammas had finished boring half-a-dozen holes in the old sow with
his sarcastic eye, he looked up, and addressed Hendry McQumpha.
“Hendry,” he said, “ye ken I’m a humorist, div ye no?”
Hendry scratched the old sow meditatively, before he answered.
“Ou ay,” he said, at length. “I’m no saying ’at ye’re no a humorist.
I ken fine ye’re a sarcesticist, but there’s other humorists in the
world, am thinkin’.”
This was scarcely what Tammas had expected. Hendry was usually one of
his most devoted admirers. There was an awkward silence, which made me
feel uncomfortable. I am only a poor Dominie, but some of my happiest
hours had been passed on the pig-sty. Were these merry meetings to come
to an end? Pete took up the talking.
“Hendry, my man,” he observed, as he helped himself out of Tammas’s
snuff-mull, “ye’re ower kyow-owy. Ye ken humour’s a thing ’at spouts
out o’ its ain accord, an’ there’s no nae spouter in Thrums ’at can
match wi’ Tammas.”
[Illustration: A VESTED INTEREST
_Bystander (to excited Scot, whose friend had been run over)._ “Not a
near relative, I hope, sir.”
_Scot._ “Na--but--he has on a pair of ma breeks!”]
He looked defiantly at Hendry, who was engaged in searching for coppers
in his north-east-by-east-trouser pocket. T’nowhead said nothing, and
Hookey was similarly occupied. At last, the stranger spoke.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “may I say a word? I may lay claim to some
experience in the matter. I travel in humour, and generally manage to
do a large business.”
He looked round interrogatively. Tammas eyed him with one of his keen
glances. Then he worked his mouth round and round to clear the course
for a sarcasm.
“So you’re the puir crittur,” said the stone-breaker, “’at’s meanin’ to
be a humorist.”
This was the challenge. We all knew what it meant, and fixed our eyes
on the stranger.
[Illustration: A TARTAR
Dr. M‘Currie (a chilly old soul), having ascertained from his landlady
that coals are sixpence a scuttle, politely insists on providing
a scuttle of his own, and begs to return, with many thanks, the
charmingly tasteful article she had intended for his use.]
[Illustration: SOLILOQUY
“If I hold on, I’ll lose my train; if I let go, I’ll fa’! Did ever
onybody hear tell o’ sic a predicament?”]
[Illustration: “THE GARB OF OLD GAUL”
_Native (to visitor from the South)._ “Ah, you’ve donned the kilt!
Quite killing, I declare! But why do you wear the Macdonald tartan when
your name is Thompson?”
_Little T. (who has been getting a good deal of chaff)._ “F’r a very
good reason--’cause I’ve paid for it!”
[_Retires in a huff._]
“Certainly,” was his answer; “that is exactly my meaning. I trust I
make myself plain. I’m willing to meet any man at catch-weights. Now
here,” he continued, “are some of my samples. This story about a
house-boat, for instance, has been much appreciated. It’s almost in the
style of Mr. Jerome’s masterpiece; or this screamer about my wife’s
tobacco-pipe and the smoking mixture. Observe,” he went on, holding
the sample near to his mouth, “I can expand it to any extent. Puff,
puff! Ah! it has burst. No matter, these accidents sometimes happen to
the best regulated humorists. Now, just look at these,” he produced
half-a-dozen packets rapidly from his bundle. “Here we have a packet
of sarcasm--equal to dynamite. I left it on the steps of the Savile
Club, but it missed fire somehow. Then here are some particularly neat
things in cheques. I use them myself to paper my bedroom. It’s simpler
and easier than cashing them, and besides,” adjusting his mouth to his
sleeve, and laughing, “it’s quite killing when you come to think of it
in that way. Lastly, there’s this banking-account sample, thoroughly
suitable for journalists and children. You see how it’s done. I open
it, you draw on it. Oh, you don’t want a drawing-master, any fellow
can do it, and the point is it never varies. Now,” he concluded,
aggressively, “what have you got to set against that, my friend?”
[Illustration: _Sandy McPherson, in a moment of abstraction, put
half-a-crown in the collection plate last Sunday in mistake for a
penny, and has since expended a deal of thought as to the best way of
making up for it._ “Noo I might stay awa’ frae the kirk till the sum
was made up; but on the ither han’ I wad be payin’ pew rent a’ the time
an’ gettin’ nae guid o’ ’t. Losh! but I’m thinkin’ this is what the
meenister ca’s a ‘releegious defficulty!’”]
We all looked at Tammas. Hendry kicked the pail towards him, and he
put his foot on it. Thus we knew that Hendry had returned to his
ancient allegiance, and that the stranger would be crushed. Then Tammas
began----
“Man, man, there’s no nae doubt ’at ye lauch at havers, an’ there’s
mony ’at lauchs at your clipper-clapper, but they’re no Thrums fowk,
and they canna’ lauch richt. But we maun juist settle this matter. When
we’re ta’en up wi’ the makkin’ o’ humour, we’re a’ dependent on other
fowk to tak’ note o’ the humour. There’s no nane o’ us ’at’s lauched at
anything you’ve telt us. But they’ll lauch at me. Noo then,” he roared
out, “‘A pie sat on a pear-tree.’”
We all knew this song of Tammas’s. A shout of laughter went up from the
whole gathering. The stranger fell backwards into the sty a senseless
mass.
“Man, man,” said Hookey to Tammas, as we walked home; “what a crittur
ye are! What pit that in your heed?”
[Illustration: “THE QUEEN’S ENGLISH” (OR SCOTCH)
_Minister._ “Weel, John, an hoo did ye like ma son’s discoorse?”
_John._ “Weel, meenister, ah maun admeet he’s vera soond, but, oh man!
he’s no deep! His pronoonciation’s no vera gweed; but ah’ve nae doobt
he’ll impruv’!”]
“It juist took a grip o’ me,” replied Tammas, without moving a muscle;
“it flashed upon me ’at he’d no stand that auld song. That’s where the
humour o’ it comes in.”
“Ou, ay,” added Hendry, “Thrums is the place for rale humour.” On the
whole, I agree with him.
SUNG BY A SCOT IN THE CITY
AIR--“_Ye banks and braes._”
Ye banks and mines a’ ganging doon,
How sma’ the sum ye fetch per share!
How flat ye’ve got, ye railway lines,
And a’ the Change sae fu’ o’ care!
Thou’lt break my heart, thou civic crash,
That made my paper fit to burn,
Thou mind’st me o’ departed cash,
Departed never to return!
Oft hae I purchased shares gane doon,
When panic bade a’ stocks decline,
And waited for them to improve,
When muckle profit aye was mine.
Wi’ lightsome heart I stored the gain
Fu’ safe in the Per-Centies Three;
Aweel, when Trust resumes his reign,
The rise may mak’ amends to me!
[Illustration: DIPLOMACY
_First Boatman (sotto voce)._ “That’s only the weeds he’s caught.”
_Second Boatman._ “Haud yer tongue, ye muckle sumph! It’s a glass of
whusky we’ll be gettin’ if the body thinks he’s lost a fush!”]
[Illustration: _Country Gentleman (who thought he’d got such a
treasure of a new gardener)._ “Tut, tut, tut! Bless my soul, Saunders!
How----what’s all this? Disgracefully intoxicated at this hour of the
morning! Ain’t you ashamed of yourself?!”
_Saunders._ “’Sh-hamed! (_Hic._) Na, na, ’m nae sae drunk as that comes
t’! Ah ken varra weel what a’m aboot!!”]
[Illustration: “SHOUTHER TO SHOUTHER!”
_Obstinate Juryman (Licensed Victualler)._ “What! Gie a vardict agyen
Mr. McLushy? Not if aw sit here a’ nicht! Aw’ll see ye a’ starved
first! He’s one o’ the finest gen’lemen i’ the toon, an’ comes to ma
billiard-table every nicht, and a’ nichts whiles!”]
RIGS AWA’
FROM THE LAYS OF A LAZY MINSTREL
Haggis broo is bla’ and braw,
Kittle kail is a’ awa’;
Gin a lassie kens fu’ weel,
Ilka pawkie rattlin’ reel.
Hey the laddie! Oh the pladdie!
Hey the sonsie Finnie haddie!
Hoot awa’!
Gang awa’ wi’ philibegs,
Maut’s nae missed frae tappit kegs;
Sound the spleuchan o’ the stanes,
Post the pibroch i’ the lanes!
Hey the swankie, scrievin’ shaver!
Ho the canny clishmaclaver!
Hoot awa’!
Paritch glowry i’ the ee,
Mutchkin for a wee drappee;
Feckfu’ is the barley-bree--
Unco’ gude! Ah! wae is me!
Hey the tousie Tullochgorum!
Ho the mixtie-maxtie jorum!
Hoot awa’!
[We have received a note from the Lazy One, saying that he is staying
in the North of Scotland with the Maclather of Maclather. He says, if
we were to hear the retainers sing “_Rigs Awa’_”--of which he encloses
a copy--during dinner, accompanying themselves on the national
instruments, sporans and claymores, we should never forget it. We don’t
suppose we ever should.----On second thoughts, we do not believe he
has been out of town at all, but that someone has sent him a guinea
Christmas hamper. “_Rigs Awa’_,” indeed! We’ll give him a recht gude
willie waght in his ee when we catch him.--ED.]
[Illustration: VERY HARD LINES
“Well, Kirsty, how’s business?”
“Middlin’, mem, jist middlin’. Some days we dae naething ava, an’
ithers we dae twice as muckle.”]
[Illustration: _Tammas (to Friend, who has joined the teetotal)._
“There’s nae doot, Jeems, ye’re a much improved man,--but I’ve lost a
freend!”]
[Illustration: THRIFT!
_Mabel (who has just concluded a bargain for a fowl)._ “Then I’ll tell
mother you’ll kill it and send it up to-night.”
_Mrs. Macfarlane._ “Na, na, I’ll no kill it till the morn. I’m thinkin’
it’s goin’ to lay an egg this evenin’!”]
[Illustration: AN IRREVERENT SAXON
“My card, mon? I hanna got one! But I’d hae you to ken that I’m a
_Mackintosh_!”
“You may be a _Humbereller_ for all I knows, but my fare’s
heighteenpence!”]
[Illustration: REASSURING!
_Old Gent (suddenly turning corner in narrow lane)._ “Oh!--I say!--Is
he?--Will he?”--(_backing into hedge._)--“Can he?”----
_Peasant._ “Don’t take no notice of ’im, sir! I’ve got a wee bit check
on ’im if he runs!!”]
[Illustration: “THE VERNACULAR”
_Old Gentleman, frae Aberdeen (at the Exhibition)._ “I say, Joack, look
up the cat’logk an see fa that is wi’ the ‘Brechum’ [horse-collar]
on!”]
[Illustration: A NARCOTIC
_Doctor._ “Look here, Mrs. McCawdle. Don’t give him any more physic. A
sound sleep will do him more good than anything.”
_Gudewife._ “E-h, docthor, if we could only get him tae the kirk!!”]
[Illustration: “AGE CANNOT WITHER, NOR CUSTOM STALE!”
_Returned Native (to country carrier, who has given him a lift)._ “We
don’t seem to be covering the ground so fast as we did twelve years
ago.”
_Carrier._ “Ye’re wrang there, Mr. Broon, for it’s the same bit
beastie!”]
[Illustration: AWARE OF THE CRISIS
_Sairgeant Mucklewham (more in sorrow than anger)._ “Halt! O Man Nummer
Three, I wunner tae sae ye! Hoo can ye think Foreign Powers can ever
respect ye, if ye wull persist in steppin’ three inches less than the
regelation!”]
[Illustration: PUT TO THE ROUT
_Distracted Bandster._ “Komm avay--komm avay--ee zhall nod give you
nodingsh--ee vill blay de moozeek erselbst! Teufel!”
[_They retreat hastily._]
[Illustration: BOTH SIDES OF THE QUESTION
_Dissipated Tradesman (to the expostulations of the minister)._ “Ye’re
aye crackin’ at me about my drinkin’, sir, but you don’t consider my
drooth!!”]
[Illustration: “PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY”
_English Angler (on this side of the Tweed)._ “Hi, Donald! come over
and help me to land him--a 20-pounder I’ll swear----”
_Highlander (on the other)._ “It wull tak’ ye a lang time to lan’ that
fush too, d’ye ken, sir, whatever!--Ye hae heuket the kingdom o’ auld
Scotland!”]
[Illustration: _Northern Gamekeeper._ “Will ye gie me some oil to my
guns this morning, cook?”
_Cook._ “If ye wunt oil frae me, ‘keeper,’ ye’ll need to mind. Ma
name’s no cook--ma name’s Misthress Macphairson!”
_Gamekeeper (with a sniff)._ “Weel, gin ye’re no to be ‘cook,’ I’m nae
to be ‘keeper’! Ye’ll be as gude as gie me ‘Maisther Forr-biss’!!”]
[Illustration: VACCINATION RE-NAMED
_The New Doctor._ “Well, Mac, how is the little girl’s arm going on?”
_Mac._ “Weel, sir, my gudewife says it’s looking just fine whaur ye
tattoo’d it.”]
[Illustration: “WHAT IN THE CAPTAIN’S BUT A CHOLERIC WORD”
_The Laird (to his Gardener, who had caught somebody trespassing)._
“Hum! And you say, Saunders, that the fellow was impudent?”
_Gardener._ “‘Impident!’ ’Deed, sir, if he had been the Laird himsell
he could na hae been mair ill-bred!”]
[Illustration: _MacNab (whose wife has met with a slight accident on
the railway, to Railway Agent, who has called to offer condolence, and
produces one or two pounds by way of solatium)._ “Na, na, if she dees
it will likely be twa or three hunders!”]
[Illustration: A MODERN ATHENIAN
_Southern Tourist (in Edinburgh)._ “Can you direct me to the Royal
Institution?”
_Native. (Vacant Stare.)_ “What est?”
_Tourist (giving a Clue)._ “Pictures, you know--Statues--and----”
_Native (after much thought)._ “Oo!--et’s the Stukky Feggars ye
mean!”--(_Pointing._)--“Yon’s et!”]
[Illustration: A POSER
_Fair Client._ “I’m always photographed from the same side, but I
forget which!”
_Scots Photographer (reflectively)._ “Well, it’ll no be _this_ side,
I’m thinkin’. Maybe it’s t’ither!”]
[Illustration: A NICE DISTINCTION
_Porter._ “Train’s awa, man. Ye should hae ran faster.”
_Passenger._ “Ran faster! Dod, I ran fast eneugh, but I should hae
startit sooner.”]
[Illustration: “ALARUMS, EXCURSIONS”
_Perplexed Old Lady (at Scottish Junction in a fog)._ “Ah hae ma
bundle--an’ ah hae ma teeck’t--but fa’s the Deeside Rel-ro’d!!”]
[Illustration: _Excited Scotsman (who has just hooked a fish)._ “I’m
dashed feared I’ll loose my half-crown flee!”]
[Illustration: “WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK.” SCENE--_District Court in a
Colony_
_Scots Judge (with a very marked pug-nose)._ “Weel, noo, sir, if ye gae
along the ro’d in question, where’ll ye gang tae?”
_Scots Witness (deliberately)._ “That a’ depends, yer honour, on how
far ye gae!”
_Judge (snappishly)._ “Ye understan’ vera weel, sir. If ye follow yer
nose, mun, where’ll ye gang till?”
_Witness (after a pause)._ “Ah’ve always heer-ed it said, yer honour,
that if ye follow yer nose too far, it’ll tak’ ye t’ the moon!”
_Judge._ “Step doon, sir!”--(_In an angry aside_).--“The mon’s a
fool!”]
[Illustration: _Traveller (to Colonial Squatter)._ “Hullo, McDonald! I
didn’t expect this of you! All your men working on a Sunday!”
_Mac._ “This is nae Sunday, mun!--it’s Wednesday----”
_Traveller._ “Not a bit of it! This is Sunday, I assure you----”
_Mac._ “Aweel! Think o’ that, noo! We hinna seen a sowl for three
months, an’ there’s nae an almanack i’ the hoose, an’ we’ve gotten
jummelt up a’ th’gether!!”]
[Illustration: _Malcolm (to the Colonel, who had been narrating his
fishing adventures all over the globe)._ “Ye must ha’e had gran’ sport
among the black men, sir! Hed they ony releegion?”--_Colonel._ “All
kinds, Malcolm. Some worshipped idols, some the sun, some the moon,
some the water----”
_Malcolm._ “The watter!” (_Musing._) “Aweel, sir, I couldna’ bring
mysel’ to care for that!”]
[Illustration: _Keeper (to the two Tourists, who find canoeing more
difficult on the Highland rivers than on the Thames)._ “Hi! Hoy! Hoy!
D’ye no ken this is the McChizzlem’s private watter!?”]
[Illustration: MAGNIFYING HIS CALLING
_Peter._ “Na, laddie, this is ane o’ thae things a body can never
learn. There’s no nae use in a man takin’ tae _this_ job unless he has
a naiteral born aptitude for’d!”]
[Illustration: GOING TO EXTREMES
_He of the ruffled temper._ “As sure’s ma name’s Tammas Paterson, I’ll
hae the law o’ ye, though it should cost me hauf-a-croon!”]
[Illustration: CARBINE PRACTICE
Sandy McGuttle and a friend of his marking in butt. Officer in charge
of squad at the shooting-range wonders why the deuce they don’t
signal that last shot. He has also grave doubts about the number of
bulls’-eyes already recorded.]
[Illustration: STAUNCH
_Old Lady (who had been buying eggs)._ “’Deed, Mr. McTreacle, butchers’
meat’s sae dear now-a-days ah’m no able to buy’t!”
_Grocer._ “You should turn a vegetarian----”
_Old Lady._ “A veegetarian!--Na, na! ah was born an’ brocht up i’ the
Free Kirk, an’ a’m no gaun ta change ma releegion i’ m’ auld days!”]
[Illustration: _Officer of Militia._ “Well, sir, who are you? and
what’s the matter?”
_Excited Citizen._ “Me? I’m the bailie--the heid bailie, mon! I catched
this wee laddie feshin’ on the Sawbath day! Says he’s a Caath’lic--a
Rooman Caath’lic!! E-h, it’s just dreadfu’ to think o’--feshin’ in a
Protestant loch!! And o’ the Sawbath! Lord save us!”]
[Illustration: RESIGNATION
_He (Third-Class)._ “Come awa’! D’ye no see that’s a first-class?”
_She (ditto)._ “Aweel, on a busy day like this, we maun just put up wi’
_ony accommodation we can get!_!”]
[Illustration: DESECRATION.
_English Angler (on Saturday evening)._ “Anybody ever fish up here on a
Sunday, m’um?”
_Scots Landlady (in consternation)._ “Hech, mon! ye’d be jail’t!!”]
[Illustration: “PREHISTORIC SCOTLAND” DE-PICT-ED
(_NOT by Dr. Robert Munro._)]
[Illustration: THE END]
BRADBURY, AGNEW. & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Obvious printing mistakes have been corrected.
Inconsistencies of spelling in the original are retained in this
version.
Images interrupting the flow of text in the original work have been
moved outside the body of the poem.
Page 60, “!” added after “Bit.”
Page 108, closing quotation mark added after “cream-jug.”