Wall, we found it wuz a beautiful place, castle and mansion, about half and half. It stands in well-kep’, handsome grounds and sets down in a sort of a valley amongst the hills which stands round it, as if proud on’t and glad to shelter and protect it all they could.
Home of industrious talent, so hard-workin’ and constant as to be as good if not better than genius.
The mansion and all round it is full of relicks of the past.
The big entrance hall is panelled with dark wood, and all along the cornice the different Coats of Arms of the Border is painted in rich colors and shields, on which is this inscription—
“These be the coat armories of the clans and chief men of name wha keepit the marchys of Scotland in the auld tyme for the kynge. True men were they, in their defence. God them defendyt.”
Here you see battle-axes and breastplates and weepons of all kinds. Most all on ’em with a tragic history. Here wuz several suits of armor: one on ’em holdin’ a big sword in its hand, captured at Bosworth’s Field. Another holds a immense claymore took from the battlefield of Culloden.
Josiah wuz took up with the looks of that, and he said he wished he owned one, and, sez he, “how nice it would be if I only had a coat of armor!
“Why, Samantha,” sez he, “how economical! When a man got one suit, he never would have to be measured for another suit of clothes—never be cheated by tailors or pinched by ’em. Cool in the summer,” sez he—“how cool and good they would feel in dog-days, when broadcloth jest clings to you; and warm in winter. The cold wind couldn’t blow through them collars,” sez he, alludin’ to the helmets.
“And then,” sez he, “when your clothes got dirty, jest wet a towel and clean ’em off—you could do it in half an hour, and then they’d be good for another twenty years. I wonder,” sez he, “if I could dicker with the Widder Scott for one of them suits? Scott’ll never wear ’em agin,” sez he.
