“Dinna blame me, Bailie. I canna help it. There’s a curse on the name.”
“A curse on whatna name?”
“On my name, Bailie; on the name o’ Stuart.”
“What d’ye mean, sir?”
“The Stuarts, ye ken, ha’e aye been unfortunate. James the First fell by the hands o’ assassins in the toun o’ Perth; James the Second was killed at the siege o’ Roxburgh Castle; James the Third was murdered by his rebellious subjects; James the Fourth lost his life in the Battle o’ Flodden Field; James the Fifth died o’ a broken heart; Mary, puir Mary, lost her head an’ her croon baith thegether; Charlie had neither a head nor a croon to lose, or he wad ha’e lost the ane or the ither, or baith.”
“Ay, ay, Steenie,” interjected the witty Bailie, “there’s nae doot the Stuarts have had a fatal habit o’ losin’ their heads an’ their croons, but yours is a case of an especially aggravated nature. They lost nae mair than a’e croon and a’e head each, but you ha’e lost mair heads an’ mair croons than a’ the lave putten thegether, for you lose yer head maistly every Saturday nicht in Tam Johnstone’s public house, an’ yer croon afore the Court here ilka Monday mornin’. It’ll no do, Steenie lad. It’ll no do. Five shillings, or seven days.”
A Coupar-Angus man, not many years ago, was sued for debt in the Sheriff Court at Perth, and on the day of the trial was met by a friend on the High Street of the Fair City.
“By the by,” said the friend, “ye’ve a case in the Coort the day.”
“Hoch! it’s owre an oor syne,” was the reply.