Old Mortality, Complete by Walter Scott (christmas read aloud .txt) 📗

the act of conveying to his mouth, and, as it chanced to be scalding hot, the pain occasioned by its descent down his throat and into his stomach, inflamed the ill-humour with which he was already prepared to meet his kinsman.

“The deil take them that made them!” was his first ejaculation, apostrophizing his mess of porridge.

“They’re gude parritch eneugh,” said Mrs Wilson, “if ye wad but take time to sup them. I made them mysell; but if folk winna hae patience, they should get their thrapples causewayed.”

“Haud your peace, Alison! I was speaking to my nevoy.—How is this, sir? And what sort o’ scampering gates are these o’ going on? Ye were not at hame last night till near midnight.”

“Thereabouts, sir, I believe,” answered Morton, in an indifferent tone.

“Thereabouts, sir?—What sort of an answer is that, sir? Why came ye na hame when other folk left the grund?”

“I suppose you know the reason very well, sir,” said Morton; “I had the fortune to be the best marksman of the day, and remained, as is usual, to give some little entertainment to the other young men.”

“The deevil ye did, sir! And ye come to tell me that to my face? You pretend to gie entertainments, that canna come by a dinner except by sorning on a carefu’ man like me? But if ye put me to charges, I’se work it out o’ye. I seena why ye shouldna haud the pleugh, now that the pleughman has left us; it wad set ye better than wearing thae green duds, and wasting your siller on powther and lead; it wad put ye in an honest calling, and wad keep ye in bread without being behadden to ony ane.”

“I am very ambitious of learning such a calling, sir, but I don’t understand driving the plough.”

“And what for no? It’s easier than your gunning and archery that ye like sae weel. Auld Davie is ca’ing it e’en now, and ye may be goadsman for the first twa or three days, and tak tent ye dinna o’erdrive the owsen, and then ye will be fit to gang betweeu the stilts. Ye’ll ne’er learn younger, I’ll be your caution. Haggie-holm is heavy land, and Davie is ower auld to keep the coulter down now.”

“I beg pardon for interrupting you, sir, but I have formed a scheme for myself, which will have the same effect of relieving you of the burden and charge attending my company.”

“Ay? Indeed? a scheme o’ yours? that must be a denty ane!” said the uncle, with a very peculiar sneer; “let’s hear about it, lad.”

“It is said in two words, sir. I intend to leave this country, and serve abroad, as my father did before these unhappy troubles broke out at home. His name will not be so entirely forgotten in the countries where he served, but that it will procure his son at least the opportunity of trying his fortune as a soldier.”

“Gude be gracious to us!” exclaimed the housekeeper; “our young Mr Harry gang abroad? na, na! eh, na! that maun never be.”

Milnwood, entertaining no thought or purpose of parting with his nephew, who was, moreover, very useful to him in many respects, was thunderstruck at this abrupt declaration of independence from a person whose deference to him had hitherto been unlimited. He recovered himself, however, immediately.

“And wha do you think is to give you the means, young man, for such a wild-goose chase? Not I, I am sure. I can hardly support you at hame. And ye wad be marrying, I’se warrant, as your father did afore ye, too, and sending your uncle hame a pack o’ weans to be fighting and skirling through the house in my auld days, and to take wing and flee aff like yoursell, whenever they were asked to serve a turn about the town?”

“I have no thoughts of ever marrying,” answered Henry.

“Hear till him now!” said the housekeeper. “It’s a shame to hear a douce young lad speak in that way, since a’ the warld kens that they maun either marry or do waur.”

“Haud your peace, Alison,” said her master; “and you, Harry,” (he added more mildly,) “put this nonsense out o’ your head—this comes o’ letting ye gang a-sodgering for a day—mind ye hae nae siller, lad, for ony sic nonsense plans.”

“I beg your pardon, sir, my wants shall be very few; and would you please to give me the gold chain, which the Margrave gave to my father after the battle of Lutzen”—“Mercy on us! the gowd chain?” exclaimed his uncle.

“The chain of gowd!” re-echoed the housekeeper, both aghast with astonishment at the audacity of the proposal.

—“I will keep a few links,” continued the young man, “to remind me of him by whom it was won, and the place where he won it,” continued Morton; “the rest shall furnish me the means of following the same career in which my father obtained that mark of distinction.”

“Mercifu’ powers!” exclaimed the governante, “my master wears it every Sunday!”

“Sunday and Saturday,” added old Milnwood, “whenever I put on my black velvet coat; and Wylie Mactrickit is partly of opinion it’s a kind of heir-loom, that rather belangs to the head of the house than to the immediate descendant. It has three thousand links; I have counted them a thousand times. It’s worth three hundred pounds sterling.”

“That is more than I want, sir; if you choose to give me the third part of the money, and five links of the chain, it will amply serve my purpose, and the rest will be some slight atonement for the expense and trouble I have put you to.”

“The laddie’s in a creel!” exclaimed his uncle. “O, sirs, what will become o’ the rigs o’ Milnwood when I am dead and gane! He would fling the crown of Scotland awa, if he had it.”

“Hout, sir,” said the old housekeeper, “I maun e’en say it’s partly your ain faut. Ye maunna curb his head ower sair in neither; and, to be sure, since he has gane doun to the Howff, ye maun just e’en pay the lawing.”

“If it be not abune twa dollars, Alison,” said the old gentleman, very reluctantly.

“I’ll settle it myself wi’ Niel Blane, the first time I gang down to the clachan,” said Alison, “cheaper than your honour or Mr Harry can do;” and then whispered to Henry, “Dinna vex him onymair; I’ll pay the lave out o’ the butter siller, and nae mair words about it.” Then proceeding aloud, “And ye maunna speak o’ the young gentleman hauding the pleugh; there’s puir distressed whigs enow about the country will be glad to do that for a bite and a soup—it sets them far better than the like o’ him.”

“And then we’ll hae the dragoons on us,” said Milnwood, “for comforting and entertaining intercommuned rebels; a bonny strait ye wad put us in!— But take your breakfast, Harry, and then lay by your new green coat, and put on your Raploch grey; it’s a mair mensfu’ and thrifty dress, and a mair seemly sight, than thae dangling slops and ribbands.”

Morton left the