Page:Martha Spreull by Zachary Fleming.pdf/75

Rh world hoo I wis born, what the impressions on my young mind were efter I began to notice, and, generally, the things that had happened to mysel’ and my family between that early period and the time o’ my opening my flett o’ rooms in George Street to student ludgers, as set forth in the first chapter.

Weel, as I said before, I maun stick to fac’s. If I had been gifted wi’ a great imagination, I micht hae made a fine thing o’ my birth, for, as I learned frae Peter Spale, the cooper, I wis born on Hogmanay. Ye may be sure Peter and my faither had a guid blash o’ toddy that nicht; and, I am positeeve, it wud only be oot o’ defference to the new comer if they hadna a stiff releegious argyment, and high words, or they were dune. But o’ this I canna be expeckit to speak wi’ dogmatic certainty. Hooever, as I’ve heard tell, the first year o’ my existence wis signaleesed by some remarkable events—for the collery broke oot in the Bell o’ the Brae, and, as the infection spread rapidly through the densely-populated districts, to wit, the Savannah, Bell’s Wynd, and Spoutmouth, it wrocht deadly havoc amongst puir folk; next, a wild bull, that had broken lowse frae the buchts, cam’ rampagin’ up the Drygate, and, in its mad career, knocked the barrels aff a sour milk cairt, tossed lame Jamie, the chapman, heads ower heels into the cyver, and wis at last brocht to reason in front o’ a looking-glass behint the coonter in William Walley’s cheenie shop, on seeing the pictur o’ a bull, lookin’ fully as wild as itsel’; and last, but no’ least, as the sayin’ is, for cornin’ nearer hame, some gangeral gipsies, that had been encamping doon i’ the Molendinar Glen, broke into oor ain hen-hoose, and took awa’ ten as guid laying hens as ever stood on a bauk, no’ to speak o’ the cock, and a couple o’ bantams, that my faither had got as a present for me frae Fredrick Fan, the deacon o’ the weavers. Still-an’-on, we had reason to be thankfu’, for neither the bull nor the collery cam’