The Antiquary — Volume 02

Wiser Raymondus, in his closet pent, Laughs at such danger and adventurement When half his lands are spent in golden smoke, And now his second hopeful glasse is broke, But yet, if haply his third furnace hold, Devoteth all his pots and pans to gold.
About a week after the adventures commemorated in our last CHAPTER, Mr. Oldbuck, descending to his breakfast-parlour, found that his womankind were not upon duty, his toast not made, and the silver jug, which was wont to receive his libations of mum, not duly aired for its reception.
This confounded hot-brained boy! he said to himself; now that he begins to get out of danger, I can tolerate this life no longer. All goes to sixes and sevens—an universal saturnalia seems to be proclaimed in my peaceful and orderly family. I ask for my sister—no answer. I call, I shout—I invoke my inmates by more names than the Romans gave to their deities—at length Jenny, whose shrill voice I have heard this half-hour lilting in the Tartarean regions of the kitchen, condescends to hear me and reply, but without coming up stairs, so the conversation must be continued at the top of my lungs. —Here he again began to hollow aloud— Jenny, where's Miss Oldbuck?
Miss Grizzy's in the captain's room.
Umph!—I thought so—and where's my niece?
Miss Mary's making the captain's tea.
Umph! I supposed as much again—and where's Caxon?
Awa to the town about the captain's fowling-gun, and his setting-dog.
And who the devil's to dress my periwig, you silly jade?—when you knew that Miss Wardour and Sir Arthur were coming here early after breakfast, how could you let Caxon go on such a Tomfool's errand?
Me! what could I hinder him?—your honour wadna hae us contradict the captain e'en now, and him maybe deeing?
Dying! said the alarmed Antiquary,— eh! what? has he been worse?
Na, he's no nae waur that I ken of.