“Says he, ‘that’s the richt way to tak’ thae things, Bell. Haud on; naebody ever stack in the world but Lot’s wife, an’ she wad a gotten through fine, if she had held forrit as she was well tell’t, an’ no lookit back. There’s nothing like makin’ the shortcomin’s o’ the past warnin’s, an’ the mercies o’ the past encouragements.’”
“But, Bell,” said David, “wha d’ye think wished me weel in this matter? Ye’ll never guess—there’s mony mair forbye him, but nae less than Sir John McLelland came ane’s errant to the hoose, an’ he did gi’e you a flamin’ character. Ae thing he said was, ‘Scotland’s a grand place to dee in, for a’body speaks weel o’ the deid; but it’s the warst place to get marrit in, for if there’s a hair to clash about, they’ll make a tether o’t,’—at least that was his meanin’, if no’ the vera words,—an’ he said he wad defy mortal to say anything but gude o’ you.”
“It’s because he disna ken ony better; but I’m obleeged till him,” said Bell; “may we baith he respeckit by richt thinkin’ kind o’ folk; we maun try tae deserve it.”
“MEASURE FOR MEASURE.”
David continued: “Sir John tell’d me no’ an ill story about himsel’. No lang after he was marrit, he took his leddy to see auld Ailsie Ferguson, his henwife. Ailsie beckit [curtsied] an’ bowed to the leddy, an’ wished her a’ that was gude; then she turned to Sir John an’ wished him the same, sayin’ that she was blythe to serve such a beautifu’, handsome leddy, only she wad a likit if she had been bigger.”
“‘Bigger!’ said Sir John; ‘why do you wish that, Ailsie? It seems rather a singular sort of compliment.’
“‘Oh, Sir John,’ said Ailsie, ‘they say that you got her wecht [weight] in gold wi’ her, and of course the bigger she was the mair ye wad hae gotten.’”
“Very good for Ailsie,” said Bell, “very good. Her an’ me was weel acquaint.”
A movement was set afoot to give Bell a present, and subscriptions were readily got from all classes, irrespective of church or other distinctive connection. There was more difficulty in determining how to expend the money than there had been in collecting it. Betty Kellock’s was perhaps the best proposal.
“Gi’e Bell the hard siller; she’ll gar’t gang farther, and ware it better than ony o’ us.”