"Lo, the tale is good," said the friar; "but it goeth here and there, without bound or limit; and wherefore should not a man relate all that befalleth unto him. I suppose it behoveth our friend to go on, without turning aside to the right hand or to the left.
"My tale is indeed long, but to me it is momentous. I should stop here pleasantly; but life is sweet,—and, to give me a fair chance for mine, I beg to be permitted to relate one adventure more." This, after some demur, was granted, and Tam went on:
After spending several years among the hills of Galloway, and being approved of by the Gorb (as he was called by every body, though his name was Macdougald) for a good swordsman, I tired of the country, being persuaded that the ground did not fatten the cattle properly; and from the moment I began to suspect that, I had no more satisfaction in the place, but utterly despised it. I perceived that their beef was never above an inch thick in the ribs, and what was worse, it was not properly mixed with white layers of fat; even the doubles in the broad bone of the shoulder were nothing but pure red lire. This will never do, thought I. How I despise the people that can put up with such a country as this!
"Master," says I, one day, "I am quite tired of this country, and am going to leave it."
"Wherefore are you going to leave it, Thomas? Have not I been better and kinder to you than to myself?"
"For all that, master, I am resolved not to sojourn another week in it."
"I warned you that they were a deceitful people before," said he; "but we must take them as they are. We cannot make mankind as we would wish to have them."
"It is not for the men, nor for the women either, that I dislike the country so much," said I.
"What is it then for?" said he.
"It is," said I, "because I suspect that their grass is not of a good quality."