Hell and heaven were pulpit words; in private life we spoke of "the ill place" and "oor lang hame."
When the corn sprouted in the stooks one late wet harvest, and
Burnbrae lost half his capital, he only said, "It's no lichtsome,"
and no congratulations on a good harvest ever extracted more from
Drumsheugh than "A' daurna complain."
Drumsheugh might be led beyond bounds in reviewing a certain potato transaction, but, as a rule, he was a master of measured speech. After the privilege of much intercourse with that excellent man, I was able to draw up his table of equivalents for the three degrees of wickedness. When there was just a suspicion of trickiness—neglecting the paling between your cattle and your neighbour's clover field—"He's no juist the man for an elder." If it deepened into deceit—running a "greasy" horse for an hour before selling—"He wud be the better o' anither dip." And in the case of downright fraud—finding out what a man had offered for his farm and taking it over his head—the offender was "an ill gettit wratch." The two latter phrases were dark with theology, and even the positive degree of condemnation had an ecclesiastical flavour.
When Drumsheugh approved any one, he was content to say, "He micht be waur," a position beyond argument. On occasion he ventured upon bolder assertions: "There's nae mischief in Domsie;" and once I heard him in a white heat of enthusiasm pronounce Dr. Davidson, our parish minister, "A graund man ony wy ye tak him." But he seemed ashamed after this outburst, and "shooed" the crows off the corn with needless vigour.
No Drumtochty man would commit himself to a positive statement on any subject if he could find a way of escape, not because his mind was confused, but because he was usually in despair for an accurate expression. It was told for years in the Glen, with much relish and almost funereal solemnity, how a Drumtochty witness had held his own in an ecclesiastical court.
"You are beadle in the parish of Pitscouric," began the advocate with a light heart, not knowing the witness's birthplace.
"It's a fac'," after a long pause and a careful review of the whole situation.
"You remember that Sabbath when the minister of Netheraird preached."
"Weel, a'll admit that," making a concession to justice.
"Did ye see him in the vestry?"