I next attempted to lead the discourse on the character and history of the person whom we were going to visit; but on this topic Mr. Jarvie was totally inaccessible, owing perhaps in part to the attendance of Mr. Andrew Fairservice, who chose to keep so close in our rear that his ears could not fail to catch every word which was spoken, while his tongue assumed the freedom of mingling in our conversation as often as he saw an opportunity. For this he occasionally incurred Mr. Jarvie's reproof.
``Keep back, sir, as best sets ye,'' said the Bailie, as Andrew pressed forward to catch the answer to some question I had asked about Campbell.---``ye wad fain ride the fore-horse, an ye wist how.---That chield's aye for being out o' the cheese-fat he was moulded in.---Now, as for your questions, Mr. Osbaldistone, now that chield's out of ear-shot, I'll just tell you it's free to you to speer, and it's free to me to answer, or no---Gude I canna say muckle o' Rob, puir chield; ill I winna say o' him, for, forby that he's my cousin, we're coming near his ain country, and there may be ane o' his gillies ahint every whin-bush, for what I ken---And if ye'll be guided by my advice, the less ye speak about him, or where we are gaun, or what we are gaun to do, we'll be the mair likely to speed us in our errand. For it's like we may fa' in wi' some o' his unfreends---there are e'en ower mony o' them about---and his bonnet sits even on his brow yet for a' that; but I doubt they'll be upsides wi' Rob at the last ---air day or late day, the fox's hide finds aye the flaying knife.''
``I will certainly,'' I replied, ``be entirely guided by your experience.''
``Right, Mr. Osbaldistone---right. But I maun speak to this gabbling skyte too, for bairns and fules speak at the Cross what they hear at the ingle-side.---D'ye hear, you, Andrew---what's your name?---Fairservice!''
Andrew, who at the last rebuff had fallen a good way behind, did not choose to acknowledge the summons.
``Andrew, ye scoundrel!'' repeated Mr. Jarvie; ``here, sir here!''
``Here is for the dog.'' said Andrew, coming up sulkily.
``I'll gie you dog's wages, ye rascal, if ye dinna attend to what I say t'ye---We are gaun into the Hielands a bit''------
``I judged as muckle,'' said Andrew.
``Haud your peace, ye knave, and hear what I have to say till ye---We are gaun a bit into the Hielands''------
``Ye tauld me sae already,'' replied the incorrigible Andrew.
``I'll break your head,'' said the Bailie, rising in wrath, ``if ye dinna haud your tongue.''
``A hadden tongue,'' replied Andrew, ``makes a slabbered mouth.''
It was now necessary I should interfere, which I did by commanding Andrew, with an authoritative tone, to be silent at his peril.
``I am silent,'' said Andrew. ``I'se do a' your lawfu' bidding without a nay-say. My puir mother used aye to tell me,
Be it better, be it worse, Be ruled by him that has the purse.
Sae ye may e'en speak as lang as ye like, baith the tane and the tither o' you, for Andrew.''
Mr. Jarvie took the advantage of his stopping after quoting the above proverb, to give him the requisite instructions. ``Now, sir, it's as muckle as your life's worth---that wad be dear o' little siller, to be sure---but it is as muckle as a' our lives are worth, if ye dinna mind what I sae to ye. In this public whar we are gaun to, and whar it is like we may hae to stay a' night, men o' a' clans and kindred---Hieland and Lawland ---tak up their quarters---And whiles there are mair drawn dirks than open Bibles amang them, when the usquebaugh gets uppermost. See ye neither meddle nor mak, nor gie nae offence wi' that clavering tongue o' yours, but keep a calm sough, and let ilka cock fight his ain battle.''
``Muckle needs to tell me that,'' said Andrew, contemptuously, ``as if I had never seen a Hielandman before, and ken'd nae how to manage them. Nae man alive can cuitle up Donald better than mysell---I hae bought wi' them, sauld wi' them, eaten wi' them, drucken wi' them''------
``Did ye ever fight wi' them?'' said Mr. Jarvie.
``Na, na,'' answered Andrew, ``I took care o' that: it wad ill hae set me, that am an artist and half a scholar to my trade, to be fighting amang a wheen kilted loons that dinna ken the name o' a single herb or flower in braid Scots, let abee in the Latin tongue.''
``Then,'' said Mr. Jarvie, ``as ye wad keep either your tongue in your mouth, or your lugs in your head (and ye might miss them, for as saucy members as they are), I charge ye to say nae word, gude or bad, that ye can weel get by, to onybody that may be in the Clachan. And ye'll specially understand that ye're no to be bleezing and blasting about your master's name and mine, or saying that this is Mr. Bailie Nicol Jarvie o' the Saut Market, son o' the worthy Deacon Nicol Jarvie, that a' body has heard about; and this is Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, son of the managing partner of the great house of Osbaldistone and Tresham, in the City.''
``Eneueh said,'' answered Andrew---``eneueh said. What need ye think I wad be speaking about your names for?---I hae mony things o' mair importance to speak about, I trow.''
``It's thae very things of importance that I am feared for, ye blethering goose; ye maunna speak ony thing, gude or bad, that ye can by any possibility help.''
``If ye dinna think me fit,'' replied Andrew, in a huff, ``to speak like ither folk, gie me my wages and my board-wages, and I'se gae back to Glasgow---There's sma' sorrow at our parting, as the auld mear said to the broken cart.''
Finding Andrew's perverseness again rising to a point which threatened to occasion me inconvenience, I was under the necessity of explaining to him, that he might return if he thought proper, but that in that case I would not pay him a single farthing for his past services. The argument ad crumenam, as it has been called by jocular logicians, has weight with the greater part of mankind, and Andrew was in that particular far from affecting any trick of singularity. He ``drew in his horns,'' to use the Bailie's phrase, on the instant, professed no intention whatever to disoblige, and a resolution to be guided by my commands, whatever they might be.
Concord being thus happily restored to our small party, we continued to pursue our journey. The road, which had ascended for six or seven English miles, began now to descend for about the same space, through a country which neither in fertility nor interest could boast any advantage over that which we had passed already, and which afforded no variety, unless when some tremendous peak of a Highland mountain appeared at a distance. We continued, however, to ride on without pause and even when night fell and overshadowed the desolate wilds which we traversed, we were, as I understood from Mr. Jarvie, still three miles and a bittock distant from the place where we were to spend the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.
Baron of Bucklivie, May the foul fiend drive ye, And a' to pieces rive ye, For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat, nor man's meat, nor a chair to sit down. Scottish Popular Rhymes on a bad Inn.