But you know that politics are far from my hand--they belong to the
temporalities of the community; and the ministers of peace and goodwill
to man should neither make nor meddle with them. I wish, however, that
these tumultuous elections were well over, for they have had an effect on
the per cents, where our bit legacy is funded; and it would terrify you
to hear what we have thereby already lost. We have not, however, lost so
much but that I can spare a little to the poor among my people; so you
will, in the dry weather, after the seed-time, hire two-three thackers to
mend the thack on the roofs of such of the cottars' houses as stand in
need of mending, and banker M---y will pay the expense; and I beg you to
go to him on receipt hereof, for he has a line for yourself, which you
will be sure to accept as a testimony from me for the great trouble that
my absence from the parish has given to you among my people, and I am,
dear sir, your friend and pastor, Z. PRINGLE.
As Mrs. Glibbans would not permit Mr. Snodgrass to return with her to the
manse, he pursued his journey alone to the Kirkgate of Irvine, where he
found Miss Mally Glencairn on the eve of sitting down to her solitary
tea. On seeing her visitor enter, after the first compliments on the
state of health and weather were over, she expressed her hopes that he
had not drank tea; and, on receiving a negative, which she did not quite
expect, as she thought he had been perhaps invited by some of her
neighbours, she put in an additional spoonful on his account; and brought
from her corner cupboard with the glass door, an ancient French
pickle-bottle, in which she had preserved, since the great tea-drinking
formerly mentioned, the remainder of the two ounces of carvey, the best,
Mrs. Nanse bought for that memorable occasion. A short conversation then
took place relative to the Pringles; and, while the tea was masking, for
Miss Mally said it took a long time to draw, she read to him the
following letter:-
LETTER XXII
Mrs. Pringle to Miss Mally Glencairn MY DEAR MISS MALLY--Trully, it may be said, that the croun of England is
upon the downfal, and surely we are all seething in the pot of
revolution, for the scum is mounting uppermost. Last week, no farther
gone than on Mononday, we came to our new house heer in Baker Street, but
it's nather to be bakit nor brewt what I hav sin syne suffert. You no my
way, and that I like a been house, but no wastrie, and so I needna tell
yoo, that we hav had good diners; to be sure, there was not a meerakle
left to fill five baskets every day, but an abundance, with a proper
kitchen of breed, to fill the bellies of four dumasticks. Howsomever, lo
and behold, what was clecking downstairs. On Saturday morning, as we
were sitting at our breakfast, the Doctor reading the newspapers, who
shoud corn intil the room but Andrew's grum, follo't by the rest, to give
us warning that they were all going to quat our sairvice, becas they were
starvit. I thocht that I would hav fentit cauld deed, but the Doctor,
who is a consiederat man, inquairt what made them starve, and then there
was such an opprobrious cry about cold meet and bare bones, and no beer.
It was an evendoun resurection--a rebellion waur than the forty-five. In
short, Miss Mally, to make a leettle of a lang tail, they would have a
hot joint day and day about, and a tree of yill to stand on the gauntress
for their draw and drink, with a cock and a pail; and we were obligated
to evacuate to their terms, and to let them go to their wark with flying
colors; so you see how dangerous it is to live among this piple, and
their noshans of liberty.