Sir, they do scandal me upon the road here!
A poor quotidian rack of mutton roasted Dry to be grated! and that driven down With beer and butter-milk, mingled together.
It is against my freehold, my inheritance.
=Wine= is the word that glads the heart of man, And mine's the house of wine._Sack,_ says my bush, _Be merry and drink Sherry,_ that's my posie.
Ben Jonson's _New Inn._
As the senior traveller descended the crazy steps of the diligence at the inn, he was greeted by the fat, gouty, pursy landlord, with that mixture of familiarity and respect which the Scotch innkeepers of the old school used to assume towards their more valued customers.
``Have a care o' us, Monkbarns (distinguishing him by his territorial epithet, always most agreeable to the ear of a Scottish proprietor), is this you? I little thought to have seen your honour here till the summer session was ower.''
``Ye donnard auld deevil,'' answered his guest, his Scottish accent predominating when in anger though otherwise not particularly remarkable,--``ye donnard auld crippled idiot, what have I to do with the session, or the geese that flock to it, or the hawks that pick their pinions for them?''
``Troth, and that's true,'' said mine host, who, in fact, only spoke upon a very general recollection of the stranger's original education, yet would have been sorry not to have been supposed accurate as to the station and profession of him, or any other occasional guest--``That's very true,--but I thought ye had some law affair of your ain to look after--I have ane mysell--a ganging plea that my father left me, and his father afore left to him.It's about our back-yard--ye'll maybe hae heard of it in the Parliament-house, Hutchison against Mackitchinson--it's a weel-kenn'd plea--its been four times in afore the fifteen, and deil ony thing the wisest o' them could make o't, but just to send it out again to the outer-house.--O it's a beautiful thing to see how lang and how carefully justice is considered in this country!''
``Hold your tongue, you fool,'' said the traveller, but in great good-humour, ``and tell us what you can give this young gentleman and me for dinner.''
``Ou, there's fish, nae doubt,--that's sea-trout and caller** [For Scotch expressions, see Glossary at end of volume.]
haddocks,'' said Mackitchinson, twisting his napkin; ``and ye'll be for a mutton-chop, and there's cranberry tarts, very weel preserved, and--and there's just ony thing else ye like.''
``Which is to say, there is nothing else whatever? Well, well, the fish and the chop, and the tarts, will do very well.But don't imitate the cautious delay that you praise in the courts of justice.Let there be no remits from the inner to the outer house, hear ye me?''
``Na, na,'' said Mackitchinson, whose long and heedful perusal of volumes of printed session papers had made him acquainted with some law phrases--``the denner shall be served _quam primum_ and that _peremptorie._'' And with the flattering laugh of a promising host, he left them in his sanded parlour, hung with prints of the Four Seasons.
As, notwithstanding his pledge to the contrary, the glorious delays of the law were not without their parallel in the kitchen of the inn, our younger traveller had an opportunity to step out and make some inquiry of the people of the house concerning the rank and station of his companion.The information which he received was of a general and less authentic nature, but quite sufficient to make him acquainted with the name, history, and circumstances of the gentleman, whom we shall endeavour, in a few words, to introduce more accurately to our readers.