As Edie Ochiltree approached the front of Glenallan House,* an ancient building of great extent, the most modern part of which had been designed by the celebrated Inigo Jones, he began to consider in what way he should be most likely to gain access for delivery of his message; and, after much consideration, resolved to send the token to the Earl by one of the domestics.
* [Supposed to represent Glammis Castle, in Forfarshire, with which the Author was well acquainted.]
With this purpose he stopped at a cottage, where he obtained the means of making up the ring in a sealed packet like a petition, addressed, Forr his hounor the Yerl of Glenllan—These. But being aware that missives delivered at the doors of great houses by such persons as himself, do not always make their way according to address, Edie determined, like an old soldier, to reconnoitre the ground before he made his final attack. As he approached the porter’s lodge, he discovered, by the number of poor ranked before it, some of them being indigent persons in the vicinity, and others itinerants of his own begging profession,—that there was about to be a general dole or distribution of charity.
“A good turn,” said Edie to himself, “never goes unrewarded—I’ll maybe get a good awmous that I wad hae missed but for trotting on this auld wife’s errand.”
Accordingly, he ranked up with the rest of this ragged regiment, assuming a station as near the front as possible,—a distinction due, as he conceived, to his blue gown and badge, no less than to his years and experience; but he soon found there was another principle of precedence in this assembly, to which he had not adverted.
“Are ye a triple man, friend, that ye press forward sae bauldly?—I’m thinking no, for there’s nae Catholics wear that badge.”
“Na, na, I am no a Roman,” said Edie.
“Then shank yoursell awa to the double folk, or single folk, that’s the Episcopals or Presbyterians yonder: it’s a shame to see a heretic hae sic a lang white beard, that would do credit to a hermit.”
Ochiltree, thus rejected from the society of the Catholic mendicants, or those who called themselves such, went to station himself with the paupers of the communion of the church of England, to whom the noble donor allotted a double portion of his charity. But never was a poor occasional conformist more roughly rejected by a High-church congregation, even when that matter was furiously agitated in the days of good Queen Anne.
“See to him wi’ his badge!” they said;—“he hears ane o’ the king’s Presbyterian chaplains sough out a sermon on the morning of every birth-day, and now he would pass himsell for ane o’ the Episcopal church! Na, na!—we’ll take care o’ that.”