The Life of Mansie Wauch, by D. M. MoirThe Project Gutenberg eBook, The Life of Mansie Wauch, by D. M. Moir,Illustrated by Charles Martin HardieThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: The Life of Mansie Wauchtailor in DalkeithAuthor: D. M. MoirRelease Date: December 5, 2007 [eBook #23739]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF MANSIE WAUCH***Transcribed from the 1911 T. N. Foulis edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.orgOne of the Duke’s huntsmenTHE LIFE OFMANSIE WAUCHtailor in dalkeith writtenby himself and edited byD. M. MOIRillustrated in colour bycharles martin hardie, r.s.a.t.n.foulisLondon & Edinburgh1 9 1 1October 1911Turnbull & Spears, Printers, EdinburghtoJOHN GALT, Esq.,author of “annals of the parish,” “the provost,”“ayrshire legatees,” etc.the following sketches,principally of humble scottish character,are dedicated,by his sincere friend and admirer,the editor.Mansie’s shop doorPRELIMINARIES TO THIS VOLUMEHaving, within myself, made observation of late years, that all notable characters, whatsoever line of life they may havepursued, and to whatever business they might belong, have made a trade of committing to paper all the ...
The Life of Mansie Wauch, by D. M. Moir
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Life of Mansie Wauch, by D. M. Moir,
Illustrated by Charles Martin Hardie
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Life of Mansie Wauch
tailor in Dalkeith
Author: D. M. Moir
Release Date: December 5, 2007 [eBook #23739]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF MANSIE WAUCH***
Transcribed from the 1911 T. N. Foulis edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
One of the Duke’s huntsmen
THE LIFE OF
MANSIE WAUCH
tailor in dalkeith written
by himself and edited by
D. M. MOIR
illustrated in colour by
charles martin hardie, r.s.a.
t.n.foulis
London & Edinburgh
1 9 1 1
October 1911
Turnbull & Spears, Printers, Edinburgh
to
JOHN GALT, Esq.,
author of “annals of the parish,” “the provost,”
“ayrshire legatees,” etc.
the following sketches,
principally of humble scottish character,
are dedicated,
by his sincere friend and admirer,
the editor.
Mansie’s shop doorPRELIMINARIES TO THIS VOLUME
Having, within myself, made observation of late years, that all notable characters, whatsoever line of life they may have
pursued, and to whatever business they might belong, have made a trade of committing to paper all the surprising
occurrences and remarkable events that chanced to happen to them in the course of Providence, during their journey
through life—that such as come after them might take warning and be benefited—I have found it incumbent on me,
following a right example, to do the same thing; and have set down, in black and white, a good few uncos, that I should
reckon will not soon be forgotten, provided they make as deep an impression on the world as they have done on me. To
this decision I have been urged by the elbowing on of not a few judicious friends, among whom I would particularly remark
James Batter, who has been most earnest in his request, and than whom a truer judge on anything connected with book-
lear, or a better neighbour, does not breathe the breath of life: both of which positions will, I doubt not, appear as clear as
daylight to the reader, in the course of the work: to say nothing of the approval the scheme met with from the pious
Maister Wiggie, who has now gone to his account, and divers other advisers, that wished either the general good of the
world, or studied their own particular profit.
Had the course of my pilgrimage lain just on the beaten track, I would not—at least I think so—have been o’ercome by
ony perswasions to do what I have done; but as will be seen, in the twinkling of half-an-eye, by the judicious reader, I am a
man that has witnessed much, and come through a great deal, both in regard to the times wherein I have lived, and the
out-o’-the-way adventures in which it has been my fortune to be engaged. Indeed, though I say it myself, who might as
well be silent, I that have never stirred, in a manner so to speak, from home, have witnessed more of the world we live in,
and the doings of men, than many who have sailed the salt seas from the East Indies to the West; or, in the course of
nature, visited Greenland, Jamaica, or Van Diemen’s Land. The cream of the matter, and to which we would solicit the
attention of old and young, rich and poor, is just this, that, unless unco doure indeed to learn, the inexperienced may
gleam from my pages sundry grand lessons, concerning what they have a chance to expect in the course of an active life;
and the unsteady may take a hint concerning what it is possible for one of a clear head and a stout heart to go through
with.
Notwithstanding, however, these plain and evident conclusions, even after writing the whole out, I thought I felt a kind of a
qualm of conscience about submitting an account of my actions and transactions to the world during my lifetime; and I
had almost determined, for decency’s sake, not to let the papers be printed till after I had been gathered to my fathers;
but I took into consideration the duty that one man owes to another; and that my keeping back, and withholding these
curious documents, would be in a great measure hindering the improvement of society, so far as I was myself personally
concerned. Now this is a business, which James Batter agrees with me in thinking is carried on, furthered, and brought
about, by every one furnishing his share of experience to the general stock. Let-a-be this plain truth, another point of
argument for my bringing out my bit book at the present time is, that I am here to the fore bodily, with the use of my seven
senses, to give day and date to all such as venture to put on the misbelieving front of Sadducees, with regard to any of
the accidents, mischances, marvellous escapes, and extraordinary businesses therein related; and to show them, as
plain as the bool of a pint stoup, that each and everything set down by me within its boards is just as true, as that a blind
man needs not spectacles, or that my name is Mansie Wauch.
Perhaps as a person willing and anxious to give every man his due, it is necessary for me explicitly to mention, that, in the
course of this book, I am indebted to my friend James Batter, for his able help in assisting me to spell the kittle words,
and in rummaging out scraps of poem-books for headpieces to my different chapters which appear in the table of
contents.LIST OF CONTENTS
Preliminaries
I. Our Old Grandfather,
II. My Own Father,
The weaver he gied up the stair,
Dancing and singing;
A bunch o’ bobbins at his back,
Rattling and ringing.
Old Song.
III. Coming Into The World,
—At first the babe
Was sickly; and a smile was seen to pass
Across the midwife’s cheek, when, holding up
The feeble wretch, she to the father said,
“A fine man-child!” What else could they expect?
The father being, as I said before,
A weaver.
Hogg’s Poetic Mirror.
IV. Calf-Love,
Bonny lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go,
Bonny lassie, will ye go to the Birks of Aberfeldy?
Burns.
For a tailor is a man, a man, a man,
And a tailor is a man.
Popular Heroic Song.
V. Cursecowl,
From his red poll a redder cowl hung down;
His jacket, if through grease we guess, was brown;
A vigorous scamp, some forty summers old;
Rough Shetland stockings up his thighs were roll’d;
While at his side horn-handled steels and knives
Gleam’d from his pouch, and thirsted for sheep’s lives.
Odoherty’s Miscellanea Classica.
VI. Pushing my Fortune,
Oh, love, love, lassie,
Love is like a dizziness,
It winna let a puir bodie
Gang about their business.
James Hogg.
VII. The Forewarning,
I had a dream which was not all a dream.
Byron.
Coming events cast their shadows before.
Campbell.
VIII. Letting Lodgings,
Then first he ate the white puddings, And syne he ate the black, O;
Though muckle thought the Gudewife to hersell,
Yet ne’er a word she spak, O.
But up then started our Gudeman,
And an angry man was he, O.
Old Song.
IX. Benjie’s Christening,
We’ll hap and row, hap and row,
We’ll hap and row the feetie o’t.
It is a wee bit weary thing,
I dinnie bide the greetie o’t.
Provost Creech.
An honest man, close button’d to the chin,
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.
Cowper.
This great globe and all that it inherits shall dissolve,
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision,
Leave not a rack behind.
Shakespeare.
X. The Resurrection Men,
How then was the Devil drest!
He was in his Sunday’s best;
His coat was red, and his breeches were blue,
With a hole behind where his tail came thro’.
Over the hill, and over the dale,
And he went over the plain:
And backward and forward he switch’d his tail,
As a gentleman switches his cane.
Coleridge.
XI. Taffy with the Pigtail,
Song,
Song of the South,
School Recollections,
Elegiac Stanzas,
Dirge,
In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor-hall,
An old man dwells, a little man;
I’ve heard he once was tall.
A long blue livery-coat has he,
That’s fair behind and fair before;
Yet, meet him where you will, you see
At once that he is poor.
Wordsworth.
XII. Volunteering,
Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing,
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow:
Many a banner spread
Flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story;
Mount and make ready then,
Sons of the mountain glen,Fight for the King, and our old Scottish glory.
Sir Walter Scott’s Monastery.
XIII. The Chincough Pilgrimage,
Man hath a weary pilgrimage
As through the world he wends:
On every stage from youth to age
Still discontent attends.
With heaviness he casts his eye
Upon the road before,
And still remembers with a sigh
The days that are no more.
Southey.
XIV. My Lord’s Races,
Aff they a’ went galloping, galloping;
Legs and arms a’ walloping, walloping;
De’il take the hindmost, quo’ Duncan M’Calapin,
The Laird of Tillyben, Joe.
Old Song.
He went a little further,
And turn’d his head aside,
And just by Goodman Whitfield’s gate,
Oh there the mare he spied.
He ask’d her how she did,
She stared him in the face,
Then down she laid her head again—
She was in wretched case.
Old Poulter’s Mo.
XV. The Return,
That sweet home is there delight,
And thither they repair
Communion with their own to hold!
Peaceful as, at the fall of night,
Two little lambkins gliding white
Return unto the gentle air,
That sleeps within the fold.
Or like two birds to their lonely nest,
Or wearied waves to their bay of rest,
Or fleecy clouds when their race is run,
That hang in their own beauty blest,
’Mid the calm that sanctifies the west
Around the setting sun.
Wilson.
XVI. The Bloody Cartridge,
So stands the Thracian herdsman with his spear
Full in the gap, a