Bertram. The Dominie groaned deeply, uncrossed his legs, drew in the huge splay foot which his former posture had extended, placed it perpendicularly, and stretched the other limb over it instead, puffing out between whiles huge volumes of tobacco smoke. "What needs ye groan, Dominie? I am sure Meg's sangs do nae ill.""Nor good neither," answered Dominie Sampson, in a voice whose untuneable harshness corresponded with the awkwardness of his figure. They were the first words which Mannering had heard him speak; and as he had been watching with some curiosity, when this eating, drinking, moving, and smoking automaton would perform the part of speaking, he was a good deal diverted with the harsh timber tones which issued from him. But at this moment the door opened, and Meg Merrilies entered.
Her appearance made Mannering start. She was full six feet high, wore a man's greatcoat over the rest of her dress, had in her hand a goodly sloe-thorn cudgel, and in all points of equipment, except her petticoats, seemed rather masculine than feminine. Her dark elf-locks shot out like the snakes of the gorgon, between an old-fashioned bonnet called a bongrace, heightening the singular effect of her strong and weather-beaten features, which they partly shadowed, while her eye had a wild roll that indicated something like real or affected insanity.
"Aweel, Ellangowan," she said, "wad it no hae been a bonnie thing, an the leddy had been brought-to-bed, and me at the fair o'
Drumshourloch, no kenning, nor dreaming a word about it? Wha was to hae keepit awa the worriecows, [* goblins] I trow? Ay, and the elves and gyre-carlings [* Witches] frae the bonny bairn, grace be wi' it? Ay, or 'said Saint Colme's charm for its sake, the dear?"And without waiting an answer she began to sing.
Trefoil, vervain, John's-wort, dill, Hinders witches of their will; Weel is them, that weel may Fast upon St. Andrew's day.
Saint Bride and her brat, Saint Colme and his cat, Saint Michael and his spear, Keep the house frae reif and wear.
This charm she sung to a wild tune, in a high and shrill voice, and, cutting three capers with such strength and agility, as almost to touch the roof of the room, concluded, "And now, Laird, will ye no order me a tass o' brandy?""That you shall have, Meg--Sit down yont there at the door, and tell us what news ye have heard at the fair o' Drumshourloch.""Troth, Laird, and there was muckle want o' you, and the like b'
you; for there was a whin bonnie lasses there, forbye mysell, and deil ane to gie them hansels.""Weel, Meg, and how mony gipsies were sent to the tolbooth?""Troth, but three, Laird, for there were nae mair in the fair, bye mysell, as I said before, and I e'en gae them leg-bail, for there's nae case in dealing wi' quarrelsome fowk. And there's Dunbog has warned the Red Rotten and John Young aff his grunds--black be his cast! [*Fate] he's nae gentleman, nor drap's bluid o' gentleman, wad grudge twa gangrel [*Vagrant] pair bodies the shelter o' a waste house, and the thristles by the roadside for a bit cuddy,.
[*Donkey] and the bits o' rotten birk [*Birch] to boil their drap parritch wi'. Weel, there's ane abune a'--but we'll see if the red cock craw not in his bonnie barn-yard ae morning before day-dawing.""Hush! Meg, hush! hush that's not safe talk.""What does she mean?" said Mannering to Sampson, in an undertone.
"Fire-raising," answered the laconic Dominie.
"Who, or what is she, in the name of wonder?""Harlot, thief, witch, and gipsy." Answered Sampson again.
"Oh, troth, Laird," continued Meg, during this by-talk, "it's but to the like o' you ane can open their heart; ye see, they say Dunbog is nae mair a gentleman than the blunker that's biggit [*Built] the bonnie house down in the howm. But the like o' you, Laird, that's a real gentleman for sae mony hundred years, and never hunds puir fowk aff your grund as if they were mad tykes, [*Dogs] nane o' our fowk wad stir your gear [*Property] if ye had as mony capons as there's leaves on the trysting-tree.--And now some o' ye maun lay down your watch, and tell me the very minute o'
the hour the wean's born, and I'll spae its fortune.""Ay, but, Meg, we shall not want your assistance, for here's a student from Oxford that kens much better than you how to spae its fortune--he does it by the stars.""Certainly, sir," said Mannering, entering into the simple humour of his landlord, "I will calculate his nativity according to the rule of the Triplicities, as recommended by Pythagoras, Hippocrates, Diocles, and Avicenna. Or I will begin ab hora questionis, as Haly, Messahala, Ganwehis, and Guido Bonatus, have recommended."One of Sampson's great recommendations to the favour of Mr.
Bertram was, that he never detected the most gross attempt at imposition, so that the Laird, whose humble efforts at jocularity were chiefly confined to what were then called-bites and bams, since denominated hoaxes and quizzes, had the fairest possible subject of wit in the unsuspecting Dominie. It is true, he never laughed, or joined in the laugh which his own simplicity afforded --nay, it is said, he never laughed but once in his life and on that memorable occasion his landlady miscarried, partly through surprise at the event itself, and partly from terror at the-hideous grimaces which attended this unusual cachinnation. The only effect which the discovery of such impositions produced upon this saturnine personage was, to extort an ejaculation of "Prodigious!"or "Very facetious!" pronounced syllabically, but without moving a muscle of his own countenance.
On the present occasion, he turned a gaunt and ghastly stare upon the youthful astrologer, and seemed to doubt if he had rightly understood his answer to his patron.