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gépslaapen, half Manks, half Dutchman, half devil! run out the boltsprit, up mainsail, top and top-gallant sails, royals, and skyscrapers, and away--follow who can ! That fellow, Mr Mannering, is the terror of all the excise and custom-house crui. sers; they can make nothing of him ; he drubs them, or he distances them ;-and, speaking of excise, I come to bring you to breakfast ; and you shall have some tea, that"
Mannering, by this time, was aware that one thought linked strangely on to another in the concatenation of worthy Mr Bertram's ideas,
“ Like orient pearls at random strung;"
and, therefore, before the current of his associations had drifted farther from the point he had left, he brought him back by some enquiry about Dirk Hatteraick.
"O he's a-a-gude sort of blackguard fellow enengh—naebody cares to trouble him-smuggler, when his guns are in bal
last-privateer, or pirate, faith, when he gets them mounted. He has done mair mischief to the revenue folk than ony rogue that ever came out of Ramsay.”
But, my good sir, such being his character, I wonder he has any protection and encouragement on this coast ?”.
“ Why, Mr Mannering, people must have brandy and tea, and there's none in the country but what comes this way and then there's short accounts, and '
may. be a keg or twa, or a dozen pounds left at your stable door at Christmas, instead of a d-d lang account from Duncan Robb, the grocer at Kippletringan, who has aye a sum to make up, and either wants ready money, or a short-dated bill. Now, Hatteraick will take wood, or he'll take barley, or he'll take just what's convenient at the time. I'll tell you a gude story about that. There was ance a laird-that's Macfie of Gudgeonford,—he had a great number of kain hens-that's hens that the tepant pays to the landlord-like a sort of
rent in kind-they aye feed mine very ill; Luckie Finniston sent up three that were a shame to be seen only last week, and yet she has twelve bows sowing of victual ; indeed her goodman, Duncan Finniston—that's him that's gone-(we must all die, Mr Mannering; that's ower true)_and speaking of that, let us live in the meanwhile, for here's breakfast on the table, and the Dominie ready to say the grace."
The Dominie did accordingly pronounce a benediction, that exceeded in length any speech which Mannering had yet heard him utter. The tea, which of course belonged to the noble Captain Hatteraick's trade, was pronounced excellent. Still Mannering hinted, though with due delicacy, at the risk of encouraging such desperate characters: “Were it but in justice to the revenue, I should have supposed”
Ah, the revenue-lads”-for Mr Bertram never embraced a general or abstract idea, and his notion of the revenue was
personified in the coinmissioners, surveyors, comptrollers, and riding officers, whom he happened to know the revenue-lads can look sharp eneugh out for themselves -no ane needs to help them and they have a' the soldiers to assist them besides and as to justice-you'll be surprised to hear it, Mr Mannering, but I am not a justice of peace ?"
Mannering assumed the expected look of surprise, but thought within himself that the worshipful bench suffered no great deprivation from wanting the assistance of his good-humoured landlord. Mr Bertram had now hit upon one of the few subjects on which he felt sore, and went on with some energy.
“ No, sir,--the name of Godfrey Bertram of Ellangowan is not in the last commission, though there's scarce a carle in the country that has a plough-gate of land, but what he must ride to quarter sessions, and write J. P. after his pame. I ken fu' weel wha I am obliged to--Sir Thomas Kit
tlecourt as gude as telld me he would sit in my skirts, if he had not my interest at the last election, and because I chose to go
with my own blood and third cousin, the Laird of Balruddery, they keepit me off the roll of freeholders, and now there comes a new nomination of justices, and I am left out--and whereas they pretend it was because I let David Mac-Gufog, the constable, draw the warrants, and manage the business his ain gate, as if I had been a nose o' wax, it's a main untruth; for I granted but seven warrants in my life, and the Dominie wrote every one of them and if it had not been that unlucky business of Sandy Mac-Gruthar's, that the constables should have keepit twa or three days up yonder at the auld castle, just till they could get conveniency to send him to the county jail-and that cost me aneugh o'siller-But I ken what Sir Thomas wants very weel-it was just sick and sicklike about the seat in the kirk o' Kilmagirdle-was. I not entitled to have