“Dictate the answer yourself then, friend,” said the magistrate, “and the clerk will take it down from your own mouth.”
“Ay, ay,” said Edie—“that’s what I ca’ fair play; I’se do that without loss o’ time. Sae, neighbour, ye may just write down, that Edie Ochiltree, the declarant, stands up for the liberty—na, I maunna say that neither—I am nae liberty-boy—I hae fought again’ them in the riots in Dublin—besides, I have ate the King’s bread mony a day. Stay, let me see. Ay—write that Edie Ochiltree, the Blue-Gown, stands up for the prerogative—(see that ye spell that word right—it’s a lang ane)—for the prerogative of the subjects of the land, and winna answer a single word that sall be asked at him this day, unless he sees a reason fort. Put down that, young man.”
“Then, Edie,” said the magistrate, “since you will give no information on the subject, I must send you back to prison till you shall be delivered in due course of law.”
“Aweel, sir, if it’s Heaven’s will and man’s will, nae doubt I maun submit,” replied the mendicant. “I hae nae great objection to the prison, only that a body canna win out o’t; and if it wad please you as weel, Bailie, I wad gie you my word to appear afore the Lords at the Circuit, or in ony other coart ye like, on ony day ye are pleased to appoint.”
“I rather think, my good friend,” answered Bailie Littlejohn, “your word might be a slender security where your neck may be in some danger. I am apt to think you would suffer the pledge to be forfeited. If you could give me sufficient security, indeed”—
At this moment the Antiquary and Captain M’Intyre entered the apartment.—“Good morning to you, gentlemen,” said the magistrate; “you find me toiling in my usual vocation—looking after the iniquities of the people—labouring for the respublica, Mr. Oldbuck—serving the King our master, Captain M’Intyre,—for I suppose you know I have taken up the sword?”
“It is one of the emblems of justice, doubtless,” answered the Antiquary;—“but I should have thought the scales would have suited you better, Bailie, especially as you have them ready in the warehouse.”
“Very good, Monkbarns—excellent! But I do not take the sword up as justice, but as a soldier—indeed I should rather say the musket and bayonet—there they stand at the elbow of my gouty chair, for I am scarce fit for drill yet—a slight touch of our old acquaintance podagra; I can keep my feet, however, while our sergeant puts me through the manual. I should like to know, Captain M’Intyre, if he follows the regulations correctly—he brings us but awkwardly to the present.” And he hobbled towards his weapon to illustrate his doubts and display his proficiency.
“I rejoice we have such zealous defenders, Bailie,” replied Mr. Oldbuck; “and I dare say Hector will gratify you by communicating his opinion on your progress in this new calling. Why, you rival the Hecate’ of the ancients, my good sir—a merchant on the Mart, a magistrate in the Townhouse, a soldier on the Links—quid non pro patria? But my business is with the justice; so let commerce and war go slumber.”
“Well, my good sir,” said the Bailie, “and what commands have you for me?”