An unfortunate fellow, many years ago, appeared at the bar of the Glasgow Police Court for being drunk and disorderly. Both the culprit and the bailie were characters in their way. The case was conclusively proved, and the bailie fined the man in fifteen shillings.
“Fifteen shillin’s!” exclaimed the man. “Bailie, you’re surely no’ in earnest! Bless ye! whan will I win fifteen shillin’s to gie ye!”
“Well,” said the bailie, “I’ll make it half a guinea, and not a farthing less.”
“Hauf a guinea! If ye fine me in hauf a guinea what’s to come o’ my puir wife an’ weans? They maun starve; there’s nae ither way o’t!” returned the offender, in a most lugubrious tone. “Ay, we maun a’ starve, or beg!”
“Well,” said the bailie, relenting, “I’ll make it seven and six, and not a farthing less!”
“Seeven an’ six! That’s just the hauf o’ my week’s wages—and there’s no’ a grain o’ meal in the hoose, nor a bit coal to mak’ it ready, even supposin’ there was! Oh, bailie, think what an awfu’ lot seven an’ six is to a workin’ man wi’ a sma’ family!”
“Well, well,” returned the good-natured magistrate, “I’ll make it five shillings, and I’ll not make it a farthing less though you were the king on the throne!”
“Weel, weel, bailie, Mary an’ me an’ the weans maun just submit,” said the knave, pretending to have broken into tears, at the same time saying to himself, “Blessed is he that wisely doth the poor man’s case consider.”
The soft-hearted bailie couldn’t stand the silent appeal of tears nor the apt quotation the artful dodger had made, so, gathering together all the poor stock of savage energy he possessed, he turned on the prisoner, and said—