SHEPHERD.
Na, sir. Avarice is a failing o' auld age sure aneuch—and shouldna be fed by the Lang Ten. I'm aye somewhat sad when I see folk o' eighty haudin' up the trumps to their rheumy een, and shaking their heads, whether they wull or no, ower a gude and a bad haun alike. Then, safe on us! only think o' them cheatin'—revokin'—and marking mair than they ought wi the counters!
NORTH.
The picture is strongly coloured; but could you not paint another less revolting, nay, absolutely pleasant, nor violate the truth of nature?
SHEPHERD.
I'm no quite sure. Perhaps I micht. In anither condition o' life—in towns, and among folk o' a higher rank, I dinna deny that I hae seen auld leddies playing cards very composedly, and without appearin' to be doin' onything that's wrang. Before you judge richtly o' ony ae thing in domestic life, you maun understan' the hail constitution o' the economy. Noo, auld leddies in towns dress somewhat richly and superbly, wi' ribbons, and laces, and jewels even, and caps munted wi' flowers and feathers; and I'm no blamin' them—and then they dine out, and gang to routes, and gie dinners and routes in return, back to hunders o' their friends and acquaintance, Noo, wi' sic a style and fashion o' life as that, caird-playing seems to be somewhat accordant, if taken in moderation, and as a quiet pastime, and no made a trade o', or profession, for sake o' filthy lucre. I grant it harmless; and gin it maks the auld leddies happy, what richt hae I to mint ony objections? God bless them, man; far be it frae me to curtail the resources o' auld age. Let them play on, and all I wish is, they may never lose either their temper, their money, nor their natural rest.
NORTH.
And I say God bless you, James, for your sentiments do honour to humanity.
SHEPHERD.
As for young folks—lads and lasses, like—when the gudeman and his wife are gaen to bed, what's the harm in a ggem at cairds? It's a chearfu', noisy, sicht o' comfort and confusion. Sic luckin' into ane anither's haun's! Sic fause shufflin'! Sic unfair dealin'! Sic winkin' to tell your pairtner that ye hae the king or the ace! And when that wunna do, sic kickin' o' shins and treadin' on taes aneath the table—aften the wrang anes! Then down wi' your haun' o' cairds in a clash on the board, because you've ane ower few, and the coof maun lose his deal! Then what gigglin' amang the lasses! What amicable, nay, love-quarrels, between pairtners! Jokin', and jeestin' and tauntin', and toozlin'—the cawnel blawn out, and the soun o' a thousan' kisses! That's caird-playing in the kintra, Mr. North; and where's the man amang ye that wull daur to say that its no a pleasant pastime o' a winter's nicht, when the snaw is cumin' doon the lum, or the speat's roarin amang the mirk mountains?