If it should suit Mr. Balmanno’s purpose to adopt the above illustrations, he is heartily welcome to them; but I make it my especial bargain, that nothing more is said upon such a meagre subject.
It strikes me, however, that there is a story about old Thomas Scott, the shepherd, which is characteristic, and which I will make your friend welcome to. Tom was, both as a trusted servant and as a rich fellow in his line, a person of considerable importance among the class in the neighbourhood, and used to stickle a good deal to keep his place in public opinion. Now, he suffered, in his own idea at least, from the consequence assumed by a country neighbour, who, though neither so well reputed for wealth or sagacity as Thomas Scott, had yet an advantage over him, from having seen the late king, and used to take precedence upon all occasions when they chanced to meet. Thomas suffered under this superiority. But after this sketch was finished and exhibited in London, the newspapers made it known that his present majesty had condescended to take some notice of it. Delighted with the circumstance, Thomas Scott set out, on a most oppressively hot day, to walk five miles to Bowden, where his rival resided. He had no sooner entered the cottage, than he called out in his broad forest dialect—“Andro’, man, de ye anes sey (see) the king?” “In troth did I, Tam,” answered Andro’, “sit down, and I’ll tell ye a’ about it: ye sey, I was at Lonon, in a place they ca’ the park, that is no like a hained hog-fence, or like the four-nooked parks in this country——.” “Hout awa,” said Thomas, “I have heard a’ that before: I only came ower the Know to tell you, that, if you have seen the king, the king has seen mey,” (me.) And so he returned with a jocund heart, assuring his friends “it had done him much muckle gude to settle accounts wi’ Andro’.”
Another favour I must request is, that Mr. Balmanno will be so good as to send me a proof of these illustrations, as my hand is very bad, and there be errors both of the pen and of the press.
Jocose hœc, as the old Laird of Restalrig writes to the Earl of Gowrie.—Farewell, my old tried and dear friend of forty long years. Our enjoyments must now be of a character less vivid than we have shared together.
“But still at our lot it were vain to repine.
“Youth cannot return, or the days of Lang Syne.”
Yours affectionately,
Walter Scott.[389]
Abbotsford, August 2.
[389] From The Times, October 16, 1827.