“Is there nathing that bothers ye ava, Jamie?”
“Ou ay,” said the idiot, changing his merry look, “I’m sair hadden doon by the muckle bubblyjock; he follows me whaurever I gang.”
“Now,” said Sir Walter, “you see from this that the simplest and most stupid of mankind are haunted by evil of some kind or another—in short, sir, everybody has his bubblyjock.”
Dour and self-willed, your Natural is frequently moved by the strongest prejudices either for or against persons and things. I knew of one in Perthshire who could never be induced to go into a boat, and this although he was born and lived all his lifetime within a few hundred yards of the river Tay. “Gang into a boat! Na, na,” he would say, “just a wee thin dealie atween ye and eternitie!” Of this same individual a good story is told, which happened in this way. Jock was a frequent visitor at the “big hoose,” and being neither lame nor lazy, was always ready to perform a needed turn for a small gratuity. Some years ago, on the occasion of a shooting battue over the estate, when each sportsman was appointed a separate bag-carrier, Jock got apportioned to one who occasioned more deaths among the birds than the majority of the sportsmen, and consequently he soon made a bag which was not easily lugged o’er field and fence. Still, on the party hurried, each short interval adding to Jock’s burden. The sweat oozed from every pore of his sonsy face, and trickled from his chubby chin; still he complained not. However, ’tis the last straw that breaks the camel’s back, and a crisis was imminent. One of the “beaters,” a boy, who had been several times found fault with by the sportsmen, was sternly rebuked, and was told by Jock’s man that if he did not steer clear of the guns he would blow his brains out. Jock saw in the threat an impending big addition to his already too heavy load, and throwing the bag at the sportsman’s feet, he wiped his steaming temples, and exclaimed in his own peculiar stuttering manner—
“Ye can sh-sh-shoot him gin ye like, but I’ll be h-h-hanged if I’m to c-c-carry him,” and in the highest dudgeon he quitted the field.
Another, who was employed about a farm town, showed, at least on one occasion, a “sma’ glimmerin’ o’ common sense.” Some one had given him a penny, and this he went and hid in a crevice in the barn wall. The farmer, observing what had been done, watched the opportunity, and, extracting the penny, placed in the crevice a two-shilling piece.
“Strange,” said Jock, when he went to look at his treasure; “turned white in the face—maun hae catched the cauld,” so rolled the florin in a rag and put it back.
Next day the farmer changed the coin to a shilling.
“Getting to be a case o’ consumption, I doot,” said Jock on his next visit.
Next day the rag contained a sixpenny piece.