“Upon my word, old friend,” I said, “I thought you were dead.”
“No, nor deid!” retorted Erchie. “Catch me! I’m nane o’ the deein’ kind. But I micht nearly as weel be deid, for I’ve been thae twa months in Edinburgh. Yon’s the place for a man in a decline; it’s that slow he wad hae a chance o’ livin’ to a grand auld age. There’s mair o’ a bustle on the road to Sichthill Cemetery ony day in the week than there is in Princes Street on a Setter-day nicht. I had a bit job there for the last ten weeks, and the only pleesure I had was gaun doon noo and then to the Waverley Station to see the bonny wee trains frae Gleska. They’re a’ richt for scenery and the like o’ that in Edinburgh, but they’re no’ smert.”
“But it’s an old saying, Erchie, that all the wise men in Glasgow come from the East—that’s to say, they come from Edinburgh.”
“Yes, and the wiser they are the quicker they come,” said Erchie. “Man! and it’s only an ‘oor’s journey, and to see the wye some o’ them gae on bidin’ ower yonder ye wad think they had the Atlantic Ocean to cross. There should be missionaries sent ower to Edinburgh explainin’ things to the puir deluded craturs. Ony folk that wad put thon big humplock o’ a hill they ca’ the Castle in the middle o’ the street, spilin’ the view, and hing their washin’s on hay-rakes stuck oot at their windows, hae muckle to learn.”
“Still, I have no doubt Edinburgh’s doing its best, Erchie,” I said.
“Maybe, but they’re no’ smert; ye wad hae yer pouch picked half a dizzen times in Gleska in the time an Edinburgh polisman tak’s to rub his een to waken himsel’ when ye ask him the road to Leith.
“Did ye ever hear tell o’ the Edinburgh man that ance ventured to Gleska and saw the hopper dredgers clawtin’ up the glaur frae the Clyde at Broomielaw?
“‘Whit are ye standin’ here for? Come awa’ and hae a gless o’ milk,’ said a freen’ to him.
“‘No, nor awa’,’ said he, glowerin’ like ony-thing; ‘I’ve coonted 364 o’ thae wee buckets comin’ oot the watter, and I’ll no’ move a step oot o’ here till I see the last o’ them!’
“The puir cratur never saw a rale river in his life afore. Och! but Edinburgh’s no’ that bad; ye can aye be sure o’ gettin’ yer nicht’s sleep in’t at ony’oor o’ the day, it’s that quate. They’re aye braggin’ that it’s cleaner than Gleska, as if there was onything smert aboot that.