19 10 639 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/374df7fe1cd68122c5abb0631e16ff4b.pdf 69bee76af3792989e8f54a5af193b7b0 PDF Text Text FIFTY YEARS SHEPHERD, AND FIFTY A KING. THE KING AND WEST COUNTRYMAN. THE BUNDLE OF WANTS. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 24. �SONGS. THE JUBILEE. Frae the Grampian hills will the Royal ear hear it. An' listen to Norman the Shepherd's plain tale, The north wind is blawing, and gently will bear it Unvarnish'd and honest, o'er hill and o'er dale ; When London it reaches, at court sure receive it. Like a tale you may read it, or like a sang sing, Poor Norman is easy, but you may believe it, I m fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King. Your Jubilee now wi' my ain I will mingle, For you and mysel' twa fat lambkins I'll slay ; Fresh turf I will lay in a heap on my ingle, An wi' my auld neebors I'll rant out the day. My pipes that I play'd on lang syne, I will blaw them. The chanter I'll teach to lilt over each spring, My drones to the tune I'll round an' round thraw them, I'm fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King. The flocks o' Great Britain ye've lang weel attended, The flocks o' Great Britain demanded your care, f r a e the tod an' the wolf they've been snugly defended, And let to fresh pastures, fresh water and air ; �3 My flocks I have led day by day o'er the heather, A t night they around me ha'e danc'd in a ring, I've been their protector thro' foul and fair weather, I m fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King. Their fleeces I've shorn, frae the cauld to protect me, Their fleeces they gave when a burden they grew ; When leas'd frae the sheeting their looks did respect me, So the flocks o' Great Britain still look upon y o u ; They grudge not their monarch a mite o' their riches, Their active industry is ay on the w i n g ; Then you and me, Sire, I think are twa matches, I'm fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King. Me wi' my sheep, Sire, and you wi' your subjects, On that festive day we'll both gladly rejoice ; Our twa hoary heads will be fu' o' new projects, To please the leal vassals that made us their choice ! W i ' sweet rips o' hay I will treat a' my wethers, The juice o' the vine to your lords you will bring, The respect they ha'e for us is better than brother's, I'm fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a K i n g . My crook I will dress in the relics o' summer, My faithfu' auld Colly shall hail that blithe morn, And to my wee cabin I'll welcome each comer, The friend that hath plenty, and stranger forlorn ; You'll sure do the same tho' nobody broach it, You've plenty of beef, butter, lobsters, and ling, And rowth o' Musicians to strike up the crotchet, I'm fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King. �4 I live i' the cottage where Norval was bred in, You live in the palace your ancestors rear'd, Nae guests uninvited dare come to our weddin', Nor ruthless invader pluck us by the beard; Then thanks to the island we live in, where shipping Skim round us abreast, or like geese in a string, Then safe I can say, as my brose I am sipping, I'm fifty years Shepherd, you're fifty a King, But a h ! Royal George, and a h ! humble Norman, Life to us baith draws near to a close ; The year's far awa that was our natal hour, man, The time's at our elbow that brings us repose ; But e'en let it come, sirs, if conscience acquit us, A sigh frae our bosom death never shall wring, An' may the next Jubilee, amang angels meet us, So hail the auld Shepherd, and worthy auld King. B U N D L E OF W A N T S . Come, Gentlemen, sit you all merry, I'll sing you a song of w a n t ; I'll make you as merry as can be, Now my money begins to grow scant. A woman without ever a tongue, She never can scold very loud ; It's just Such another sad want, When a fiddler wants his crowd. �5 A ship without ever a sail, May be driven the Lord knows whither, It's just such another sad want, As a shoemaker wanting his leather. A man that has got but one leg, Will make but a very bad runner; And he that's no eyes in his head, Will make but a sorrowful gunner. A bell without ever a clapper, Will make but a sorrowful sound; And he that's no land of his own, Must work on another man's ground. A woman without e'er a fault, She bright as a star will appear; But a brewer without any malt, Will brew us but pitiful beer. A soldier without any pay, To fight will be terrible l a z y ; And a bed well stocked with fleas, Will make a man wonderful busy. A miller without a pair of stones, He is but a sorrowful soul; And if he has no corn to grind, He need not stand taking toll. �6 A man that has got a bad stomach, Will make but a pitiful dinner; And he that's no victuals to eat, His jaws will grow thinner and thinner. You know that a dish of good meat Is the comfort and joy of man's life; But he that's no victuals to eat, Has no need to draw out his knife. A ploughman without e'er a plough, I think he may live at his ease; And a dairy without e'er a cow, Will make but bad butter and cheese. A man that is pitiful poor, Has little or nothing to lose; And he that has got ne'er a foot, It saves him the buying of shoes. A woman that never bore children, Is barren, and so much the worse; And he that is quite out of money, Can have no need of a purse. I hope there's no one in this place, Displeas'd any way with my song; Come, buy up my ballads apace, And I'll pack up my awls, and begone. �7 THE KING AND WEST COUNTRYMAN. There was an old chap in the west country, A flaw in his lease the lawyers had found; It were all about a-felling some oak trees, And building some houses upon his own ground. Ri tooral, &c. Now this old chap to Lunnun did go, To tell the K i n g a part of his woe, likewise to tell him a part of his grief, In hopes K i n g George would give him relief. R i tooral, &c. Now this old chap to Lunnun did go, But found the K i n g to Windsor had gone; But if he had known he'd not been at home, He domm'd his buttons if ever he'd come. Ri tooral, &c. Now this old chap to Windsor did go, But the gates were barred, and all secure; He bumped and thumped with his oaken clump. There's room within for I, to be sure. R i tooral, &c. Pray, Mr Noble, shew I the K i n g — What's that the K i n g that I see there ? I seed a chap at Bartlemy Fair, Much liker a K i n g than that chap there. Ri tooral, &c. �8 Pray, Mr. King, how do you do ? I'ze gotten for yon a bit on a jobb'n, And if you're so kind, to make you amends, I'ze gotten a summat in my fobb'n. R i tooral, &c. The K i n g he took the lease in hand, And to sign it he was likewise willing; And the farmer, to make him a little amends He lugged out his bag, and gi'd him a shilling. Ri tooral, &c. The King, to carry on the joke, He ordered ten pounds to be paid down, For year and year after, and evermore, Likewise ten shillings and half-a-crown Ri tooral, &c. The farmer he stared, and looked very funny, To take up the cash he was likewise willing; But if he had known he'd so much money, He domm'd his wig if he'd gave him the shilling. Ri tooral, &c. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/98c8a42ad8821e21be4852552d7fdb58.jpg 4b5a0891b906b143011c19e5271f059c Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3190 Width 2009 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 036: Title-page illustration of a young man wearing a straw hat. He is sitting on a rock with a bowl in his hand. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Fifty years shepherd, and fifty a king. The king and West Countryman. The bundle of wants. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923314173505154">s0432b25</a> '24' is printed at the foot of the title page Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Glasgow, Scotland Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The king and West Countryman The bundle of wants Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Fashion (Clothing): working class https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/4af0b303559e123fff66455662c59341.pdf 3acce62d6529946eadd20c35cdc30747 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/e9afeb0ebfe902355570771bc094214c.jpg 3071b5926900eaaaf1490507cb7a342b Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3359 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Woodcut 072: Title-page illustration in a single ruled rectangular border of a woman in conversation with a man standing in front of building. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The farmer's son. Or, The unfortunate lovers. To which are added, The captain of love. My mother did so before me. Just the thing. The wild rover. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1803 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923312863505154">s0438b21</a> Description An account of the resource Woodcut #72: Illustration on title- page a woman in conversation with a man in front of building. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The unfortunate lovers The captain of love My Mother did so before me Just the thing The wild rover Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 16 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: J. & M. Robertson Type The nature or genre of the resource ballads & songs Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Courtship and Marriage Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Archictecture: window(s) Bib Context: title-page Chapbook Date: 1801-1810 Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: J. & M. Robertson Gender: man/men Gender: woman/women Nature: tree(s) Outdoor Scene https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/205a733520b2257acfe6a670cdbac180.pdf 8999758be3ab963527013c8cd56031ab PDF Text Text AN ELEGY IN MEMORY OF T H A T V A L I A N T C H A M P I O N , SIR R. LATE GRIERSON, L A I R D OF LAG, Who died Dec. 23d, 1733. WHEREIN T H E P R I N C E OF DARKNESS Commends many of his best friends, who were THE CHIEF MANAGERS, of the late Persecution. GLASGOW: P R I N T E D FOR THE B O O K S E L L E R S . ��AN IN MEMORY OF SIR ROBERT GRIERSON, OF LAG. fatal news is this I hear ? On earth who shall my standard bear ? For Lag who was my champion brave, Is dead and now laid in his grave, The want of him is a great grief, He was as my manager and chief, W h o fought my kingdom to promove, And to my laws he had great love, Could such a furious fiend as I, Shed tears, my cheeks could never dry; But I could mourn both night and, day, 'Cause Lag from earth is ta'en away. It is no wonder I am sad, A better friend I never had, Through all the large tract of his time, He never did my ways decline: He was my trusty constant liege, W h o at all times did me oblige; But now what shall I think or say ? By death at last he's ta'en away. He was a man of meikle zeal, W h o in my service did not fail; He was no coward to relent ; WHAT �4 No man dare say he did repent, Of the good service done to me, For as he liv'd so did he die, He bore my image on his brow, My service he did still avow, He had no other deity, But this world, the flesh, and me; Unto us he did homage pay, And did us worship every day. The thing that he delighted in, Was that which pious folk call sin, Adultery, whoredom, and such vice, Such pleasures were his paradise. To curse, to swear, and to blaspheme, He gloried in and thought no shame; To excess he drank beer and wine, Till he was drunken like a swine. No Sabbath day regarded he, But spent it in profanity ; 'Mongst other vices, as some say, He ravish'd virgins on that day; But that which rais'd his fame so high, Was the good service done to me, In bearing of a deadly feud, 'Gainst people who did pray and read, And sought my kingdom to impair, These were the folk he did not spare, Any who reads the scriptures through, I'm sure they'll find but very few Of my best friends that's mentioned there, That could with Grier of Lag compare ; Though Cain was a bloody man, He to Lag's latches never came, In shedding of the blood of those, �5 Who did my laws and ways oppose. Like Saul, who David did pursue, He rais'd on them the cry and hue, And cruelly he did oppress, Such as religion did profess. Doeg the Edomite did slay, Fourscore and five priests in one day; But if you'll take the will for deed, Brave Lag did Doeg far exceed. He of the blood royal was come, Of Ahab he was a true son ; For he did sell himself to me, To work sin and iniquity. Herod for me had great zeal, Though his main purpose far did fail, He many slew by a decree, But did not toil so much for me, As Lag, who in his person went, To every place where he was sent, To persecute both man and wife, W h o he knew led a pious life. Brave Clavers flourish'd in his day; And many lives did take away, He to Rome's cause most firmly stood, And drunken was with the saint's blood, Which in abundance he did shed, Of those who from his presence fled, In moss and mountain, cleugh and glen, Were slaughter'd by his Highlandmen. That where he came none might remain, W h o in the least did me defame, He rifled houses, and did plunder, In moor and dale many a hunder: He all the shires in south and west, �6 When blood and rapine sore opprest. He to his utmost did contrive, How he might make my kingdom thrive, And how he might bring down all those, That did my government oppose. His mischief never prosper'd ill Except one time near Lowdon hill, Where shamefully he did retreat, Before a few, who did him beat, Till more assistance I did give. And then brave Clavers did revive; With fury then and hellish rage. He did these wanderers engage, And sought their utter overthrow, In every place where he did go. He was made Viscount of Dundee, For venturing his all for me. This honour he enjoy'd not long, Soon after this he was ta'en home: By sudden fate at last he fell, A t Killicrankie, near Dunkel. No longer he could serve me here; But Lag survived for many a year, And constantly stood to his post, When many a champion brave was lost. Brave Charles Stewart of renown, The best that ever wore a crown, For whoredom and adultery, For incest and profanity, For drunkness and for perjury, He neither word nor oath regarded; With gibbets he his friend rewarded When opposition he did meet. He then did play the hypocrite, �7 And feign'd himself for reformation, When he intended deformation. At Spey and Scoon within a year. The covenants he twice did swear; And at Dunfermline did profess Great sorrow for his naughtiness But that was all to get the crown, That he the better might throw down, That covenanted Presbytery, That was so opposite to me ; For afterwards he did rescind, These covenants no more to bind ; And solemnly he gave command, To burn them by the hangman's hand. He caus'd the nations to abjure, What they call'd reformation pyre. Brave prelacy he did restore, As it in Scotland was before. And to this Dagon he caus'd bow, Scotsman contrary to their vow. He many a conscience did desire, Which made me on his count to smile; Malignants he advanced high. 'Cause they good subjects were to me. He tolerated heresy, All error and profanity: A blasphemous supremacy, Over the church usurped he ; And granted an indulgency. Thereby to ruin Presbytry. M y sceptre he did bravely sway, And punish'd those that did gainsay, By tortures that were most severe, By prisoning and loss of gear; �8 And cruel murders many a way, Because they from my laws did stray: But kindness he did ever bear, No Pope in Rome did ever dwell, That could this noble prince excell, For in a word he did advance, M y kingdom more than Rome or France : Neither Spain nor Germany, Had so much true zeal for me. He reigned long but at the last. His brother York gave him a cast. He poison'd him and made him die, And sent him home to my country; To Tophet that's both wide and large, Which he chus'd for his heritage, Great Middleton, that man of might, My service he did never slight: To work he furiously did go, The covenants to overthrow ; He like Nehustan did them treat, Like almanacks that's out of date, He did rescind their force and power, And solemly did them abjure, He nullified all acts and laws, That favoured the scripture cause; And ruin'd many a family, For nought but non-conformity If hirelings they would not hear, Their purse he punish'd most severe. He made the south of Scotland feel, His griping claws were made of steel, They were so crooked, hard, and sharp, They pierc'd men's substance to the heart; The king's commission while he did bear, �9 Men lost their conscience, life, and gear, But Charles too soon him discarded, Yet I his kindness well rewarded ; And this I hope he'll not deny, Since now he lives as well as I. Fletcher, my friend, he was the first Advocate who did insist Against the Whigs in the king's name, To bring - them to an open shame; Charles my son did him instal, To bring these rebels under thral, Who still for covenants were pleading, To justify their old proceeding. He laboured very earnestly To please his sovereign and me, By rooting out brave Presbytery, And planting noble Prelacy ; By shutting up in prison strong These men who did my interest wrong, And thristing for the blood of them Who did my government contemn ; His malice was so set on fire That nothing could quench his desire, Until Argyle, mine enemy, Was brought condignly for to die ; And Guthrie, who did me oppose, By hanging he his days did close; And Warriston, the worst of all, By my friend Fletcher he did fall: Thus wonderfully he did please me, When of these rebels he did ease me; For which good service he doth sit Among the princes of my pit. And my dear cousin, Provost Mill, �10 Burnt covenants, yet thought no ill, A t Lithgow cross, with more disgrace Than ever was at any place. He burnt Lex Rex, and other books, Which sourly on my interest looks ; And many acts of kirk and state, Which he knew well that I did hate, 'Cause they advanc'd a reformation, That shook my kingdom thro' the nation. He burnt old brechems, roakes, and reels, Also the picture of the De'il; I mean myself, 'cause he did think My effigies would make all stink, That he burnt on that solemn day, Upon the twenty-ninth of May. But my dear cousin was mista'en, The covenants remained in fame, By some that did love them so well, That with their blood they did them seal. Himself he did to me surrender, And for a time liv'd in great splendour Beloved well of all my friends. Till at the last he lost his means, And left in want and poverty Which made him to the Abbey fly; He who the covenants did burn, A cheating bankrupt did become, He lost his senses turn'd demented; And none but me his case lamented; And at the end of all did die, Bemoaned by no man but me. I did him visit in distress Where he is now you'll eas'ly guess. Turner did Galloway invade �11 And took from many what they had, He spared neither old nor young But plundered all where he did come, Most savagely he did them treat. And without mercy some did beat. He spoil'd that country cruelly, And acted like a man for me. A very hellish life he led As in my cave he had been bred. Carsphairn can well testify, The cursing and profanity, The outrages committed there. (The half of which might file the air) By Turner and his company. Which wonderfully pleased me Dalziel who fought at Pentland hill, And many of my foes did kill; And others prisoners did lead, W h o after quarters were hang'd dead; A downright atheist he did turn And ruin'd all where he did come, That wanted the mark of the beast, He did not spare them in the least; In serving me he made his boast. Me was so valiant in my cause, And so observant of my laws That to commend him there's no need. His works have prais'd him.—Since he's dead. Nisbet of Dalstown in his stead. In open court against Whigs did plead: And to the gallows did pursue The Pentland men who did renew The covenants at Lanark town. Till they on gibbets were brought down; �12 And by his rigorous pursuing He many o' her Whigs did ruin, His great exploits pleas'd me so well, That I his name cannot conceal But think fit that his deeds be told, That so his name may be enrol'd 'Mongst other worthies on record W h o serv'd me as their sovereign Lord, M'Kenzie after did succeed, As advocate for me to plead. He turned to apostacy. And spent his time in blasphemy ; He pled that persons might go free For murder and for sorcery ; But brought them in guilty of treason, W h o were religious out of season, By keeping Presbytery in fame. Which king and council did disclaim: W h o of their conscience were so tender Religion they would not surrender To please his Majesty and court, And turn as changes came about: To scripture they so firmly stood, On them I did spue out a flood Of mischief and calamity, M'Kenzie acted well for me : Scripture religion at that time, He made it such a heinous crime, That for it nought could satisfy, But guilty persons they must die. He many a saint pursu'd to death, He feared neither hell nor wrath. His conscience was so cauteriz'd, He refus'd nothing that I pleas'd; �13 For which he's had my kindness still, Since he his labour did fulfil. Rothes like a sow in mire, Who of his whoredom did not tire, But wallow'd in adultery, In cursing and profanity, And did allot the Sabbath-day, To spend it in his game and play ; Perjur'd himself in Mitchell's case, To bring that rebel to disgrace, He did contrive that engine, That did make Hackston dree great pain, To rip his breast at my desire, And burn his heart quick in the fire, Mangled his hands and took them off, That they might be the people's scoff, And afterwards struck off his pow, And set it on the Netherbow ; And cut his body all asunder, And plac'd it for a world's wonder. Thus he shook off humanity, For the respect he had to me. A t last in horror he did die, And went to Tophet dolefully. Monmouth did me a noble turn, When he to Bothwell-bridge did come, With armed force, with power and might, He slew and put the Whigs to flight. Although it was the Sabbath-day, He would not grant them a delay, But instantly did hash them down, And took them captives to the town. They prisoners were in the Grey friar, Until a false oath they did swear ; �14 Or in the dungeons were shut close, Where they their lives were like to lose, Some got the gallows some the sea, Some hang'd, some drown'd—that pleased me; Earishal who serv'd me many a year, And for my interest did appear ; He serv'd his 'prentiship below, Then to the mountains he did go, The Caneronians to defeat, People whom I do greatly hate, A t Aird's moss he surprised that crew, Cameron their champion he slew, And desperately cut off his head, Also his hands and made him bleed. Then in great triumph he did go, To Edinburgh with a great shew, Much boasting that he had supprest The cameronians in the west He did produce the hands and head Of Cameron whom he killed dead; For which the council did him pay A large reward without delay : And I myself on him did smile For that great action done in Kyle; Because that he avenged me Upon my stated enemy. His kindness shall not be forgot A s long as my furnace is hot. York, who great Charles did succeed, He was my constant friend indeed H e was bred with me all his days, And never from my laws did stray ; For he black Popery did profess, In Scotland he set up the mass. �15 A toleration he did give That mystery Babylon might revive, He took to him absolute power, For to advance the Romish whore, He stopped all the penal laws, Were made for weakening of my cause, And gave a golden liberty For all sorts of idolatry. It criminal was in his day To own the covenanted way ; For he intended in a short time, To make Popery through Scotland shine, That from the greatest to the least All men might serve the Romish beast. He deeply sworn was to Rome, To seek all Presbyterians doom, To abolish the memory Of all that opps'd Popery, All protestants he did despise, And many slew without assize ; He ordered that they should be shot, Where they were found in every spot. B y hellish soldiers my drudges, Whom he empower'd in place of judges, Suspected persons for to try, And at their pleasure make them die, Without allowing liberty, To fit them for eternity. He framed all mischief by a law, To make Scotland an aceldema, Threatened to make a hunting field, Of shires that would not fully yield, He all the venom of the pit Against piety did spit, �Ib He hated all maliciously. Had any sovereign but me ; Disdained common honesty, Lov'd nothing but impiety. He in my service posted fast, Until his projects got a blast. When Orange did come o'er the sea, Like a base coward he did flee. Then he did abdicate the crown, And after liv'd a vagabond; Till at St, Bermains he did die, And then he did come home to me. I need not speak of Queensberry. No man was loyaler than he: He serv'd me well with all his might, Against the Whigs with great despight, While York's commission he did bear, Upon that he was most severe. By him the parliament was led; Saints blood like water then he shed. He confidently did declare They should not have time to prepare For heaven because he said that hell Was too good a place for Whigs to dwell. By that he acted to his power, Both soul and body to devour; Which was the only thing I sought, Although to pass it was not brought; Yet thanks be unto Queensberry, For his good will in serving me. I Milton Maxwell must commend, Ten Whigs at once he did condemn, And after that he did devote Himself my kingdom to promote. �17 M'Cartney he did apprehend, Brought him to an untimous end. He plagued the presbyterians sore, That dwelt on the water of Orr, For Corsack's house he rifled bare, And neither nurse nor bairn did spare, But thurst them out from house and hold, To hunger them exposed and cold ; He did leave nothing in that house That was to him of any use; The horse, the colt, the corn, the sheep, He every thing away did sweep. He rang'd through like a greedy thief, Took butter cheese, mutton, and beef; The puddings he did scarcely spare, For every thing away he bear. Of cloth and clothes silver and gold, He took far more than can be told: The blackest sight that country saw, Worse than Pate Barley or John Faw. All his zeal was mixt with self, He very greedy was of pelf. Yet all he took but short time lasted, The Whigs did say that it was blasted, For all his offspring that remain Have none of his well gotten gain. When I perceiv'd that it was gone, I out of pity brought him home, Now Whigs may sleep in a sound skin, They'll never get mair skaith of him. M y friends that were of lower note, In justice should not be forgot, As Allison, who here did dree A hell on earth for pleasing me. �18 Bonshaw more fierce than I can tell, Who bade some send the Whigs to hell; And my beloved Kennaway Who plagu'd the hill men every day. 'Bove twenty journeys in one year This varlet willingly did go, To hasten the Fanatic's woe Strahan Murray and Annandale. Who in my cause had great zeal, Drummond, Stretton and bloody Reid, Who shot my foes till they were dead, Buchan, Inglis, and Westerhall, Balfour and others great and small. Stenhouse, Maitland and Bollochmiln, Culzean and Windrum, men of skill. Crichton, Lauder, and many more, Who sought the hill-men's overthrow, Halton, who did himself perjure, To bring Mitchel to an ill hour, Lowrie of Maxwelton also. Unto these wild men was a foe. And so was Carick of Stewarton, Bailie, and these gave Smith his doom. And all the bishops in the land, Were ready still at my command, My statutes for to execute, On all whom I did persecute. Dumbarton, Bruce, and Rob Dalziel, And other worthies I could tell, As Ezekiel Montgomery. The bloodiest monster that could be, And that vile wretch call'd sheriff Hume, That was right worthy of his room; And old tree-legged Duncan Grant, �19 W h o of his wickedness did vaunt. Eglinton, lroncaple and lord Ross, W h o did the Whigs murder and toss, From sixty to the revoluton, Imbrewed their hands in persecution They murder'd and did stigmatise, Such as my service did not please : They banished them to foreign nations, And sold them to the new plantations, With rigour great they took their gear, Because they my livery would not wear, None forwarder among them all. Than noble Grierson of Lag-hall, Whose worthy actions make him fit In the great chair now to sit, 'Bove Korah and his company, For all his friendship done to me. This honour he doth well deserve, For he unweariedly did serve Me to his utmost every way, To keep my kingdom from decay. I must remember bishop Sharp, For the good service I did get Of him, when he was here away ; He did the Scottish kirk betray, And all its privileges sold For pleasure here and love of gold ; He fill'd the land with perjury, And all sorts of iniquity ; And did the force of Scotland lead To persecute the woman's seed. Judas who did his master sell. And afterwards went down to hell, Had no more mischief in his mind, �20 Than Sharp this noble friend of mine. A paction past twixt him and me That I from skaith should keep him free : I gave him sorcery, gainst lead That shooting should not be his dead, And yet this did not him secure, He lost his life on Magus-muir ; There some stout-hearted men in Fyfe, With swords of steel did take his life ; And very justly did him kill 'Cause he their brethren's blood did spill. So to this place he did descend, But after him Lag did contend For my kingdom many a day: But now, alas ! he's ta'en away. What shall I say ? for time would fail, To tell you of brave Lauderdale. A great apostate he did prove, Because with Balaam he did love The wages of iniquity. To keep him in prosperity ; That his beastly belly might Have Epicurean delight; To spend his time in carnal pleasure, Which he esteem'd above all treasure. He was a member among those Who strictest models did compose, Upon the Presbyterian side But quickly he from them did slide. These covenants which once he swore, Most solemnly he did abjure, All tenderness he did cast off, On scripture he did droll and scoff. To prelate Sharp be thought no shame �21 Above Rabshakeh to blaspheme. By habit he did curse and swear, He harlot's company did bear. He did counsel and assist The king who after blood did thirst, To bring all to a final end For covenants that did contend. All public mischiefs in the land Were done at Lauderdale's command. In Mitchel's case he did perjure Himself most wrongfully he swore ; For conscience he regarded not, Himself he wholly did devote To serve king Charles and myself, And to advance his wordly pelf Persisting in these courses still, Did grieve and anger one Cargil; So Charles, York, Monmouth and he, Were all deliver'd o'er to me ; Rothes, M'Kenzie and Dalziel, Unto my lot each man they fell, A company of as brave men, As ever minister did send By such a sentence unto me; Whom I embrac'd most willingly, 'Cause formerly I did commend In many things these worthy men. Now those brave heroes I must leave, And some few instances I'll give Of these brave actions which Lag did, That ought no longer to be hid. In Galloway he was well known His great exploits in it were shewn. He was my general in that place, �22 He did the Presbyterians chase, Through moss and muir, and many a bog, They were pursu'd by my friend Lag. Saint's monuments that's here and there, If any will to them repair, Mongst others there you'll read his name, And know he was a man of fame. On many there he forc'd the test, By perjury them sore opprest. And when he brought them to disgrace, He mocked them unto their face. From others he did take their gear, He neither mercy had nor fear, Yet this did not his wrath allay, For others he did seek to slay Cubine and Gordon, near Hallhill, He took their life their blood to spill, And left them hanging on a tree, For disobedience to me. John Bell of Whiteside he did slay. And would not give him time to pray And other four in that same hour He shot upon Kirkconnel Muir. Mayfield, Clement, and Irlingtown, Macrabet he brought also down ; And made them all a sacrifice, His hellish fury to appease. Two men in Twingham some did find, And with hair tethers did them bind. Like sheep for slaughter there they lay, George Short and David Halliday; Till Lag came up and gave command To kill them quickly out of hand. Against them he had such despite, �He would not let them live one night, So in that posture they were shot Most cruelly upon the spot. Lachlane and Wilson in the sea He drown'd cause they obey'd not me, Though they were of the weaker sex, No favour they of him did get : And cruelly he took the life Both of a young maid and a wife. The kirk by excommunication Did banish him out of their region ; Because he would not satisfy, Them for his vile adultery: For he knew well that I could thole His vices all, without controul, That he should have both peace and ease, In doing things that I do please, He clave as close unto my law' As any man I ever saw. In atheism his days did spend Until his time drew near an end. Then for the fashion he did say, That lie was of the Popish way ; Because a priest made him believe, That he to him would pardon give, And would from purgatory bring Him to a place where he would sing; But that was but a forged lie. For Lag lives hot and bien with me, It was in spite he money gave Unto the priest that greedy slave, For he had neither pith nor power To keep my friend from me an hour; For when I heard that he was dead, �24 A legion of my den did lead Him to my place of residence, Where still he'll stay, and not go hence : For purgatory I must tell, It is the lowest place in hell: Well plenish'd with the Romish sort, Where thousands of them do resort. There many a prince and pope doth dwell, Fast fetter'd in that lower cell, And from that place they ne'er win free, Though greedy priests for gain do lie. In making ignorants conceive, They'll bring them from the infernal cave, Such as do bribe them well with gold As heaven with pelf were bought and sold. Sure that is but a vain deceit Contriv'd by Antichrist of late ; To keep the worshippers of the Whore Senseless in sin, blind and secure ; And to make priest look fat and fine, W h o nought but carnal things do mind. For this is what I truly know, They come not back from whence they go, They who take their abode with me, From that place they are never free. This Lag will know and all the rest, Who of my lodging are possest. On earth no more they can serve me, But still I have their company: With this I must my grief allay, So I no more of Lag will say. FINIS � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/281efb5496dbeb9e835ef46c55253745.jpg 0bfb55b27be85b816fdfcbc5d31da0f7 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3248 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource An elegy in memory of that valiant champion, Sir R. Grierson, late Laird of Lag, who died Dec. 23d, 1733. Wherein the prince of darkness commends many of his best friends, who were the chief managers, of the late persecution. Subject The topic of the resource elegy Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923304753505154">s0451b35</a> '142' is printed at the foot of the title page Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Glasgow, Scotland Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ac0ccd1ded37eedfa3f3a4d2f03c3bfc.pdf d81237b1bddc35afd664bb3c8bef7b0c PDF Text Text ill's v a l i a n t Exploits T O W H I C H ARB A D D E D , ROB'S JOCK, a very OLD BALLAD, AND Britons to ARMS your Siftct Km. to defend PRINTED BY J. & M ROBERTSON ^ S^LT MARKET, 1&C2* �( 2 TURNPINVS ) VALOUR, Hounflowrheatb, as I rode o'er, I JfpyM a lawyer riding before ; Kind Sir, faid I, are you not afraid, Of Turnpin that mifchievous blade? O rare Furnpin hero, O rare Turnpin O S~ys Turnpin Vvz been hipft fecure* My gold 1 hi^ in the heel of my Oi©e; O fays the lawyer, there's none can find My gold, for it lies in my cap behind. &c. As they rod down by the Poultry.mill, Turrpin demands him to Hand Hill, Said he, Your cap I mud cut off, For my m^re ihe wants a {addle-cloths &c* This c&us'd the lawyer for to fret, To think be was fo fairly bit; Far Icon he robb'd him *t his ffcre, Bccaufe he knew how to tyz for more. As Turpin rode in fearch of prey, l i e met an exciferoan on the way, He boldly bid him for to ftand, tout gold, faid he, I do demand. 0 3 With that the cxcifcman* he reply'd, Your proud demands mui'l be deny?d; Before my money you receive, One of us two {halleeafe.to tjye. O rare* fce* �( 3 > Turnpia then without remorfe. He knocked him quite from oSr his horfe, And left him on the ground to fprauL So off lie rocb'with his gold and a l l 0 ; &c. As he rode ever Salisbury plain, He met Lord Judge with all his train ; T h e n H^ro-iike, he did approach And robb'd the Judge as ht fat in coach. & c . An Ufarer as I asm to!ds W h o had in charge a fum of gold. With a* clock clouted from fide to fide r Juit like a Palmer he did ride O rare, &c» And as he jogg'd sdorig the way. He met with furnpm that fame day j With hat in hand nioft aoutXeou-Qy* He bilked him for chanry. G rare, If that be true thou tells to me, I'll freely give thee charity \ But I made a vow, and it H i keep; T o fearch all P a p e r s that I meet. O , He {e.archJd his bags, wherein he £ound Upwards- of eight hu]idre4 pound, In ready gold aad white money, W h i c t | made him to laugh heartily. O , &c< Fhlg pegging is a curious trade;, Fov orr the way thou haft well fped j This prife I couut it found money, ' ^ Became abou- made zn arrant lye» O. �( 4 ).. For fhooting of a dunghif-cock,. Poor Turnptti he at laft was took, And carried itraight unto a jatU 'Where his misfortunes he does bewail. &c Now feme do fay that he will hang, Turnpin the laft of all the gang ; I wifli this cock had ne'er been hatch'd, For like a fifh in the net he's catch'd. O , Sec But if I had my liberty, And were upon yon mountain high, iThere's not a mm in Old England, Durft bid bold Turnpin for to ft and. O, &e I venturM bold at young and old, And' fairly fought them for their gold $ O f no mankind was I afraid ; But now alas! I am. b e t r a j ' d ~ Orare^&c Now Turnpin he's -condemn--d to die, T o hang upon yon gallows high j Whole legacy is a ilrong rope, For {tealing oi a Dunhit-Cock. Orare 5 &c. R O B ' S JOCK, ,1 very O l d Ballad. O B ' S Jock came to woo our Jenny, ^ w On ae feafMay when we were f o u , She brankit faft and made her bonay T Arcd faid, Jock came ye here to woo ? She irniih d her baith breaft and brpti* And j p d e fer clear ony clock j �Then fpake her dame, and faid, I t r o u , Y e jcome to woo our Jenny, Jock. Jack faid, forfootb, 1 yearn fu* fain. T o l u k my head, 2nd fit down by you; Then fpake her rntnny, and faid again. My bairn has tocher enough to gie yoi3# Tehee! quo' Jenny, keek keek I fee you, Miony yon man maks but a mock. Deil hae the liers, fou Ids me o* you, I come to woo your Jenny quo' Jock. My bairn has tocher o* her am: A goofe, a gryce, a cock and hen, A dirk, a ftaig* an acre fawin A bake-bread and a bansioek-ftane; A pig, a pat* a kirn there-ben, A kaim, but an a kaiming-fiock, W i ' cogs an' luggies nine or ten. Come y e to woo our jenny, Jock. A weight, a peet-creel and a cradle, A pair o* clips, a grape, a flail, A n ark, an amry, and a ladle, A milfie, and a fowen-pail, A rouftie whitie to ilieer the kail, A timber-mell the beer to knocic, Twa (hells made of an auid fir-dale, Come ye woo our Jenny, Jock ? A f u r m , a furlet, an3 a . p f c k ^ A rock, a reel* and a wheel-band, A tub, a barrow, and a f&ck, A fpurtlc-braid; and an clwand, �• Then Jock rook Jenny by the hand, And cry'd a feaft i and flew a cock, And made a bridal upo* hand. Now I Hae got your Jenny quo' Jock. Now dame, I hae your doughter marry'd, And tho' ye mak it ne'er fae teugh, I'll let ye wit fhe's na mifcarry'd, ' t i s well kend I hae gear enough* An auld gaud gloyM fell o'er a heugh, A fpade f a ipeet, a fpur, a lack, With©uten oufeo 1 hae a pleugh'; May that no fair your Jenny ? quo* Jock* A treen trencher, a ram-horn fpoon, Twa boots of barkint blailant leather, A v g r a i t h that gangs to coble fhoon And a thrawcruik to twine a tether; Twa crooks that moup amang the heather, A pair of br&ftks arid a fetter-lock A teugh purfe made of a fwine's bladder, T o hand your tocher, Jenny, quo' Jock. Good elding for your winter-fire } And a cod o* caffwao fill a cradle, A rake of iron to elate the byre, A duck abouf the dubs to padle 5 T h e pamiel of an auid lade-faddle j And Hob my ecm hechr me a liock, Twa luity lips to lick a foddle \ May thir no gain your J-nny, qao* Jock* A pair of hems and brechim fine, And without bitts* a fcridle-renzifc, �m !L ,iffl || 1 ] ( 7 ) A fark made of the linkome twine, A gay'gree» cloke that will ,not (lenzie, Mair yet in ftore—[ need not f e n z i e j Five hundred flaes, a fendv flock; And are not thae a wakrife menzie. T o gae to bed wi' jenny and Jock? T a k thir for my part o* the feaft, It is weei kend I am \yeel bodin: Y e need not (ay my part i$ leaft, Were they as nieikle as they are lodm. T h e xvife fpicr'fi gin the kail was fodden. Whan we hae done tak harne the brock, The roaft was teugb. a raploch hoilin, With v/hich they feaited Jenny and Jock, I ; | is Britons to Arms our Sifter Km. to defend. all you brave boys in this nation, W ^ - your country and honour defend, Since our King has got great oceafion, brave boys we'll crofs o'er the main* Fai al dcf Tai, dal daladadte, fai al dar, &c# Y o u muft lay by the flail and the pitchfork, and take up the gun and the fword, Y f a will haftily kill all the Frenchmen, where'er you meet thera by my word. &c# T h e Frenchmen they're landed in Ireland, which I new do well underftand; Be not afraid df them my brave boys* Com wallis doc^Uirpfclf tiow cq mmand*&c» �( 8 ) There is Pbillemon, Derby, and Donald, in 'the mountains of Connaught was bred, Them fellows they do fear nd danger, when they get a drop in their h<tad. & c . But there is PhilIemon5 Derby, and Donald, and Tirres, and Munes, and Shan, They were bred in the mountains of Newry, by cutting of turfF with a flan. Fal, &c, TV hen my Captain he gives me the Ikinnar, be calls me a ftout clever man, Bat to-morrow brave boys I'll be finer, for I've the red clothes to put on, &c. 0 what would you do with the red clothes o? you don't know to handle a gun \ B y my fhoul (he'll be apt for to bite you* if you to her mouth put your hand. &c. But give brandy unto me brave Qaour, my true heart it fliall never fail, T o kill all the Frenchmen by dozens, as one would threfh oats with a flail &c* For if Frenchman or Dutchman wou'd (hoot I with the big end of my gun", (me, Their bones w6uld be pounding & threfliing, till they be obliged to ruin Fal al, &c. And when I had kill'd them, poor fellow^ and caft them over that fliore, 1 will make them to fwear by Gibraltar," they'd never come here any more. &c« r r T T r r w r Printcd by J.&M. ROBERTSON, Saltmarket, i%of> � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/cd6557fdb6e47bdeca47b30bf60aae91.jpg 484a277ed89f5008e3f61bbb7beb7e57 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3441 Width 2062 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Dunghil-cock; or, Turnpin’s valiant exploits. To which are added, Rob’s Jock, a very old ballad. And Britons to arms your sister Km. to defend. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1803 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923302423505154">s0459b33</a> Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a man woman, and child selling chapbooks on title page Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Rob's Jock Britons to arms your sister Km. to defend Turpin's valiant exploits Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed by J. & M. Robertson Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/560ac691676729a64b4e36b204819a7f.pdf 7db9a2844ed5559e26ea787b6627d879 PDF Text Text The disappointed lover To which are added, Up in the morning, Wellington's Address, My Bonny Jean, STIRLING: printed by W. Macnie: 1828. �T H EDISAPPOINTEDLOVER. As Autumn Sun had sunk full low, Behind Benlomond hill And Ardoch brown came rowing down Wi' speed might ca'd a mill. That night met two resolved to woo, Upon a bank so green And watch the two I then did do, Behind a bush, unseen. H e made her vow, on the broom knowe. Thatnighttolethimin, And by a' gude he swore he would, Mak neither noise nor din. Me kiss'd the lass then on the grass, And prais'd her bonny een; But aft She said I am afraid This night you will be seen. So That night him to undo, And kiss this maid in her own bed, And bar her love out too �Thevillageclock it now had struck, The hour ayont the ten, When, in her smock, she did unlock the door and let me in, As it was dark she low did heark To mak but little din, For blackguards low are on the go, And wanting to get in. My coat and hatItaenthrewaff, My hankerchief and shoon ; Then quick I flew into hea b i d — For sound slept a' her kin. Then Cupid said Be not afraid, In joy your love now do, For Angerona here doth reign, And mortal ne'er shall know. But Stirling Will was for the mill, His horn he did blaw; And one kiss more she ask'd before That I would gang awa. I kiss'd this maid then out of bed, My clothes Iondidthrow; I never spoke, but did unlock Thedoor,andoff did go. �4 She thought it was her own true love That she had all the while; But him she lost but ne'er suspeck'd, That I did her beguile. U P IN T H E M O R N I N G Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south, And drift is driving sairly ; The sheep are couring in the heugh. O sirs, it's winter f a i r l y Now up in the morning's no for me, U p in t h e Morning's no for me, I'd rather gang supperless to my bed, Than rise in the morning early. Loud roars the blast amang the blast. T h e branches tiring barely, Amang the chimley taps it thuds, And frost is nipping sairly. Now up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early, To sit a' night I'd rather agree, Then rise in the morning early. �Thesunpeepso'er the southlan hill, l i k e ony timorous earlie, Just blinks awee,t h e nsinksagain, And that we find severely. up in themorning'snoforme, U p in the morning early, When snaw blaws into the chimley taps, Wha'd rise in the morning early. Naelintiesliltonhedge or husk, Poor things theysuffersairly, In cauldrife quarters all the night, A day they feed but sparely. Nowupin the morning's no for me, Upinthe morning early ; No fate cam be waur in winter time, Then rise in the morning early. Acoseyhouse,andcantywife, Keeps aye a body cheerly ; And pantrystow'dwi'mealandmaut Itanswersuncorarely. But up in the morning nanana, Up in thee morning early ; The gowans maun glent on bank and brae, When I rise in the morning early �WELLINGTON'S ADDRESS. Britonsbauldthough Britons few, On the plains o' Waterloo; Britons heroes, always true, To rights and liberty. Fire your blood, my vet'ran boys Usurpation's yoke despise ; Slavery fa's and slavery dies. Before brave British play. See the haughty tyrant comes, Sea his darling warlike sums. Hear the rattling o' his drums, To sie sweet Freedom's sway. We'll divert him wi' the charms O'ourswords, and o' our arms ; In his ear we'll strike our thairms, That Britons shall be free. Tho' his guns like thunders roar, Fight like lions as before ; Conquer o'er, or kiss the gore, t h a t welcomes bravery. ; �Seethelightning'sflashing by, Darkning black the louring sky-— Traitor turn and coward fly, March, heroes, on wi' me. Europe's past, andEurope'sfoe. See his lang decisive blow, See his deadly overthrow, Frae Sodgers—heroes o' Laurels fresh await Liberty is Britain's Then forward renown our crown. own, win her plea. MY BONNY JEAN. Behind yan hills o' lofty height, I dearly love to stray, Whar lads and lasses fondly sport, And spend the gowden day; The cheery plains remind the strains, O' purest joys unseen ; And ilka flow'r decked in the bow'r, Blooms like my bonny Jean. thrones and �8 When dressing nature burke the vale, And sprinkles on her dew, Her bonny silver mantle shines Out o' the clearest hue; So neat and fair, wisplendourrare, She dazzles a' our een ; Yet fairer dress, she maun confess, Adorns my bonny Jean. Hew sweetly m the summer's e'en, She skips the gilded plain: While all thelittlewarblingbands, Sing welcome back again. Their Througha'thehillsatween; Tillilkadale,andflowryvale, Pay homage to my Jean. FINIS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/62150c6b5566a5ee74c52bf86906df9e.jpg 73215aa6dc702a571df58f02087350de Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 2776 Width 1724 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The disappointed lover: to which are added, Up in the morning, Wellington’s address, My bonny Jean. Subject The topic of the resource Ballads and songs Chapbooks - Scotland - Stirling Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1825 Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133973505154">s0042b27</a> <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923299283505154">s0461b33</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. Up in the morning Wellington’s address My bonny Jean Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of an actor? holding a mask on title page Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="%20University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Chapbook #23 in a bound collection of 37 chapbooks (s0042b27) Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Stirling: Printed by W. Macnie Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a77b4674ea138af86b18333e4951de2f.pdf 306a6612b556efb66554752ad16480e3 PDF Text Text COMICAL HISTORY SIMPLE JOHN TWELVE MISFORTUNES WIC TAF N D AL I * T VLR D T AT R T R U H TT JI n I FE E L N A ET A S FE I ^ AF T GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. �COMICAL H I S T O R Y ° F SIMPLE •IB an JOHN, AND HIS TWELVE MISFORTUNES. MAMRU T * BT»Q ITII.TWT /< .JJA AS?I*niAn , D J R I K BN 10 TA3 H A F «A I nm o w S I M P L E J O H N was a widow's son, a d a coarse country weaver to his trade. He made nothing but such as canvas for caff-beds, corn and coal sacks, drugget and harn was the finest webs he could lay his fingers to: he was a grQat lump of a lang, lean lad, aboon Bax feet afore he was aughteen years auld ; and, aS lie said hlrtisel, he grew sae fast, and was in sic a hurry to be high, that he did not stay to bring a' his judgment \vith him, but yet he . l.ojH^t it follow him, and lie woulcj meet wi't as monv a ane does �3 after they're married. He had but ae sister, and she had as little sense as himsel', she was married on Sleeky Willie, the wylie weaver; his mither was a rattling rattle-scull'd wife, and they lived a' in ae house, and every body held them as a family of fools. W h e n John came to man's estate, to the age of twenty-one years, he told his mither he would hae a wife o' some sort, either young or auld, widow or lass, if they had but heads and lips, tongue and tail, he should tak them, and weel I wat, mither, quoth he, they'll get a lumping penny-worth o' me, get me wha will. His mither tells him o' the black butcher on Ti'ot-side, wha had three doughters, and- every ane o' them had something, there was Kate, Ann, and Girzy, had a hundred merks the piece. Kate and Ann had baith bastards. Girzy the eldest had a humph back, a high breast, baker legged, a short wry neck, thrawn mouth, and goggle ey'd; a perfect iEsop of the female kind, with as many crooked conditions within as without, a very lump of loun-like illnature, vow'd \ together, as if she had \ �4 been nine months in a haggis, a second edition of crook backed Richard, an old English King, that was born with teeth to bite a' around about him, and yet the wight gaed mad to be married. John's mither told him the road where to go, and what to say, and accordingly he sets out wi' his Sunday's coat on, and a' his braws, and a pair of new pillonian breeks o' his mither's making. In he comes and tells his errand before he would sit down, says good day to you, goodman, what e you a' doing here ? I am wanting wife, an' ye're a flesher, and has a gude rting aside you, my mither says ye 11 sair me or ony body like me, what say ye tilFt, goodman ? How mony douchters hae ye ? Are they a' married yet ? I fain wad tak a look o' some o' them gin ye like. A wow, said the goodwife, come in by, honest lad, and rest yo, an ye be a wooer sit down and gie's a snuff'— A deed, goodwife, I hae nae mills but my mither s, and it's at hame.—Whare win ye, I'se no ken y e p 1 wat, quoth , �5 he, my name's Jock Sandyman,and they ca' me Simple John the sack weaver. I hae nae tocher but my loom, a pirnwheel, a kettle, pat, a brass pan, twa pigs, four cogs, and a candlestick, a good cock, a cat, twa errocks new begun to lay; my sister Sara is married on Sleeky Willie the wylie weaver, and I maun hae a hagwife or my mither die, for truly she's very frail, and OBV harl o' health she has is about dinner time ; what say ye till't, goodman ? eari ye buckle me or not? Goodman. A dear John, ye're in an unco haste, ye wadna hae your wife liame wi' ye ? they're a' there before ye, which o' them will ye tak ? Hout, tout, says John, ony o' them, will sair me, but my mither says there is twa o' them has fauts. And what is their fauts ? says the goodwife. Hout, said John, it's no meikle faut, but I dinna like it, they got men or they were married. And what shall I do wi' them ? said the goodman. John. A deed, goodman, as ye're ay dealing among dead beasts and living beasts, I wad put them awa among �6 ither beasts, or gin ye be aun ony penny, let somebody tak them up o' desperate debt, I sud flie the Fykes frae them, they anger d you, and sham'd 1 vou baith with their bastards', a wheen * daft jades it gets men or they be married, and bairns or they get bridals. Goodwife. A wat weel that's true, lad. Girzy. A weel, John, then, will ye tak me; I hae nae bastards ; how will you and I do ? John. I wrat na gin ye be able to get a bastard, yet ye may hae some waur faut; but ye maun be my pennyworth, for ye're unco little, and I'm o'er muckle, and gin ye and I war ance carded through ither, we may get bonny weans o' a middlen mak. I hae nae fauts to ye, but ye hae a high breast, a humph back, a short neck, and high shouthers, tiie hands and legs may do, tho' your mouth be ? wee to the tae side it will lie weel to the rock, and I hae a hantle o* tow to spin, will be baith sarks and sacks till us, ye'll be my soncy dauty, up and down ; a perfect beauty, wi' cat's yellow een, black brous, and �7 red lips, and your very nose is a purple colour; ye hae nae fauts at a'. Now, whan will we be married ? Qirzy. Ha, ha, John lad, we maun think on that yet. John. What the yeltow, lass, should na ye be ready whan I'm ready, and every body says that the woman's aye ready. Goodman. YV11 hae to come back and bring somebody wi' you, and we'll gree about it, and set the day whan ye'll be married. John. A weel, goodman, I'll tell my mither o't, and come back on Mononday, and we'll hae a chappin o' ale, and roasted cheese on the chance o't, but I maun hae a word o' the bride out by, to convoy me, and a quiet speak to hersel about it. Goodwife. A wow na, John, the daft loons will laugh at you, and she'll think shame, gang ye out by, and she'll speak to you through the gavel window. Out goes John, and the bride, and her twa sisters goes to the window within to hear the diversion, and what �ho would saw Now says John, Girzy my dear, my braw pretty woman, an ye be in earnest, tell me, for by my suth I'm no scorning. Girzy. Indeed, John, I'm vei'y willing to tak ye, but ye needna tell every body about it. John. Then gie me a kiss on that. He shoves his head in at the window, making a lang neck to win down to her, and she stood on a little stool to win up to him. O, cries he, an ye were good flesh I could eat you a', I like YOU sae weel; it's a pity there is sic a hard \\ra' between us, I'se tell my mither sae bonny as ye are: O, gie me anither kiss yet, and then I'll go. One of her sisters standing by in a dark corner, gets baud o' a cow's head, which wanted a' the skin but about the mouth, and shoves it towards his mouth, which he kissed in the dark. O, cries he, your mouth be cauld since I kissed ye last, and I think ye hae a beard, I saw nae that before, or is't wi' spinning tow that maks your mouth sae rough at e'en. Hame he comes, and tells his mither uie speed and properties of the marriage. �All things was got ready, and next week Sleeky Willie the weaver and him came to gree the marriage, and stay all night with the bride, and teach John good manners, for when John was hungry, lie minded his meat mair than his good behaviour, and he never was fu' till the dish was tame. Willie the weaver was to tramp on his fit when he thought he had suppet aneugh ; so all things being agreed, upon short and easy terms, and the wedding day set, they were to be three times cried on Sunday, and quietly married on Monday, neither piper nor fiddler to be employ'd, but sweith awa hame frae the Minister, and into the bed aniang the blankets; ha, ha, cried John, that's the best o't a\ Now every thing being concluded and proposed, the supper was brought, a large fat haggis, the very smell wad a done a hungry body gude, but John had only got twa or three soups, until one of the butchers meikle dogs tramped on John's fit, which he took to be the weaver, arid then he would eat nae mair. After supper they went to bed �10 John and the weaver lay together, ano then he abused the weaver for tramping sae stion, which he denied; but O, said John, there's a hantle o't left, and I saw whare it was set; they are a'sleeping, I'll go rise and tak a soup o't yet. Aye, een do sae, said sleeky Willie, and bring a soup to me too. Away then John goes to the amry, and lays to the haggis, till his ain haggis could haud nae mair; then brought some to Sleeky Willie; but, instead of going to the bed where he was, goes to the bed where the bride and the twa sisters lay, they being fast asleep, speaks slowly, Will ye tak it, will ye tak it ; but they making no answer, he turns up the blankets to put a soup into Willie's mouth, but instead of doing so, he puts a great spoonful close into one of their backsides. Sleeky Willie hears a' that past, comes out the bed, and sups out the remainder, and sets up the dish where it was, leaves the amry door open to let the cats get the blame of sapping the haggis, and away they go to bed; bilt poor John could get nae sleep for drouth; up he gets in search of the �11 Si r wa^er-can, and finding an empty pitcher, puts in his hand to find if there wag m\y water in it,-but finding nane he closed his hand when it Was within the pitcher, and then could not get it out, goes to the bed and tells Sleeky Willie what had happened him, wha advised him to open the door, and gc out to a knocking-stane that stood before the door, and break it there, to get out his hand, and not to make a noise in the house. So out he goes, and the bride's sister who had gotten the great spoonful of the haggis laid to her backside, was out before him, rubbing the nastiness (as she took it to be) off the tail of her sark, and she being in a louting posture, he took her for the knocking-stane, and comes ower her liurdies with the pitcher, till it flew in pieces about' her, then off she runs with the fright,' round a turf-stack, and into the house before him. John came in trembling to the bed again, wi' the fright, praying to preserve him, for sic a knocking-stane he never yet saw,Tor it ran clean awa when he broke the pig w o n it. �12 Now John was furnished in a house by his father-in-law; the bed, the loom, heddles, treadles, thrumbs, reed, and pirn-wheel, was a' brought and set up before the marriage, which was kept a profound secret; so that John got the first night of his ain wife, and his ain house at ae time. So on the next morning after the marriage, John and his wife made up some articles, how they were to work, and keep house ; John was to keep the house in meat, meal, fire, and water; Girzy was to mak the meat, and keep the house in clothes; the father-in-law to pay the rent for three years; they were to hae nae servants, until they had children; and eir first child was to be a John, after ain Daddy, get it wha will, if a ; and if a girl, Girzy, after its ain y, as ye said wha wrought best �MISFORTUNE IV. T H E N she ordered Jolm to rise and begin his vvark, by putting on a fire, and to tak the twa new pigs and gang to the well for water. No sooner had John opened the door, and gone out with a pig in every hand, than a' the boys and girls being gathered in a crowd to see him, gave a loud huzza: and clapping their hands at him, poor John, not knowing what it meant, thought it was fine sport, began to clap his hands too, and not minding the twa pigs, clashes the tane against the tither, till baith went to pieces, and that was a cheerful huzza to baith young and auld that was looking at him ; Girzy the wife draws him into the house, and to liim she flies with the wicked wife's weapon, her Tongue and Tangs, and made his ribs to crack, saying, " They told me ye war daft, but Til ding the daffing out o' ye, I'll begin wi' you as I've a mind to end wi' you." Poo John sat crying and clawing l)jsbea �ria, ha," said lie, its nae bairn s play to be married, J find that already." His mother-in-law came in and made up peace, went to a cooper, and got them a big wooden stoop to carry in their water. 4 4 MISFORTUNE II. Next morning, John was sent to the Flesh-market an errand to his Fatherin-law, who gave him a piece of flesh to carry home, and as he was coming out of the market, he saw six or seven of the flesher dogs fall on and worry at a poor country colly dog; "Justice, justice," cries John to the dogs, " ye're but a wheen unmannerly rascals, that fa's a' on ae poor beast, heth ye should a' be put in the toubuoth, and ta'en to the bailies, and hanged for the like o' that; its perfect murder;" and in he runs amongst the dogs, " And be hanged to you a thegither, What's the quarrel p What's the quarrel ? John flings down the flesh he had carrying, and grips the colly, who took John for an �15 enemy too, and bites his hands till the blood followed, he whole of the tykes* comes a on poor John, till down he goes in the dirt amongst their feet, and one of the dogs runs off with the flesh, so John went hame both dirty and bloody and without his flesh, told Girzy how it happened, who applied her old plaister, her Tangs and Tongue, made John to curse the very minister that married them, and wished he might ne'er do a better turn. * MISFORTUNE ffj. Next morning, John was sent to the well with the great stoup to bring in water for breakfast; and as he was pulling the stoup out of the well, in he tumbles and his head down, the well being narrow, he couldna win out: some people passipg by chance heard the slunge, cried, and ran to his relief, hauled him out half dead, and helped him into the house ; and after getting a dry sark, he was comforted with the old plaister her Tongue and hard Tangs. �MISFORTUNE IV. Next day, she says, John, 1 nr.*. go to the market myself, for if you go you 11 fight wi' the dogs, and let them run awa wi* ony thing you buy: see that ye put on the pat, hae't boiling again I come hame. John promised weel, but performs very badly. She's 110 sooner gone, than lie puts on the new pat without any water in it, and a good fire to make it boil, and away he goes to the unhappy well, fills his stoup, and sets it down to look at a parcel of boys playing at cat and dog, they persuaded John to take a game wi' them, on he plays, till ane o' the boys cries, Hey John, yonders your Girzy coming. John runs into the house wi' the water, and the pat being redhot on the fire, he tumes in the cauld water into it, which made the pat flee all in pieces, just as she was entering the door. John runs for it, and she runs after him, crying catch the thief, some persons stopped him; she comes �IT up, and then she laboured him all the way hame, and he crying, " O Sirs, ye see what it is to be married!" The mither-in-law had to make up peace again, and he promised good behaviour in time to come. MISFORTUNE V. On the next morning she sent him to the water to wash some cow's puddings and turn them on a spindle, showing him how he was to do or he went away. John goes to the water very willingly, and as he turned and washed them, he laid them down behind him, where one of his father-in-law's big dogs stood, and ate them up as fast as he laid them down, till all was gone but the very last ane, which he carried hame in his and, crying like a child, and underent a severe tost of the old plaister efore any mercy was shown. MISFORTUNE VI. His father-in-law, next day, sent him �away to bring home a tat calf he bought in the country, and tied up the money in a napkin, which he carried in his hand for fear he should lose it. B ing very weighty, as it was all in hal pence, and as he was going alongst bridge, he meets a man running aftef horse, who cries to John to stop the horse; John meets him on the top of the bridge, and when he would not be stopped for him, he knocks the horse on the face with the napkin and the money, so the napkin rave, and most of the half-pence flew over the bridge in the water, which made poor John go home crying very bitterly for his loss, and dread of the old plaister, which he got very sickerly. N MISFORTUNE VII. On the next morning, she sent him again to the bridge, to see if he could find any of it in the water, and there he found some ducks swimming, and ducking down with their heads below the water, as lie thought, gathering up his money, he kills o^e of them, and rips �19 her up, but found none of it in her guts or gabbie ; then says he, they have been but looking for it, I'll go do as they did, strips off his clothes and leaves them on the bridge, goes in a ducking, in which time, a ragman came past, and took away all his clothes. So he went homo naked to get a bath of the old plaister. MISFORTUNE VIII. The next morning, she sent him to a farm-house for a pigful of buttermilk, and as he was returning through the fields, the farmer's bull and another bull were fighting ; the farmer's bull being iiketoloss, Johnryns inbehiiidhim,and sets his head to the bun's tail, on purpose to help him to push against the other; but the poor bull thought John was some other bull attacking him behind, fled aside, and the other bull came full drive upon John, pushed him down, broke the pig, and spilt the milk. Sc John went home to get his auld plaister, which began to be a usual diet to him, and so he regarded it the less. �20 MISFORTUNE IX. His mother-in-law, with severai an Id witty wives, held a private council on John's conduct, and bad luck, and concluded he was bewitched. John was of the same opinion, and went to the Minister, and told him he was the cause of a' his misfortunes, ca d him a warlock to his face, and said, he had put such a black bargain into his hand, that he was ruined for ever; insisted either to unmarry them again, or send death and the bellman to take her awa, for she has a lump of mischief on her back and anitiler on her breast, and the rest of her body is a clean de'il. The Minister began to exhort him to peace and patience, telling him that marriages were made in heaven : " ye're a baist liar," says John, " for I was married in your ain kitchen, and a' the blackguards jn the town were there, an it had a been a heaven they wadna win in, yet tell me that matrimony was sic a happy state, but had ye gotten as mony weel �21 pay d skins as I hae gotten, ye wad a kend what it was; ill chance on j^ou, sir;" and out he goes cursing like a madman, throwing stanes and breaking the Minister's windows for which he was caught and put twa hours in the stocks, and at last his lump of corruption came and rubbed his lugs, drew his nose, got him out, and drove him home before her, took a resolution never to set him about any business in time coming, but keep him on his loom. MISFORTUNE X. Now she gave him no sleep all that night for scolding. John got up in the morning lang or day, and left his Tormenter in bed, fell asleep upon his loom wi' the candle in his hand, and so set the web, heddles, reed, and treadle cords in a fire. By chance his old Viper looked out of the bed, or the whole house had been gone. Up she gets, and with her cries alarmed the neighbourhood who came to her relief; �22 but poor Jonn underwent a dreadful swabbing for this, MISFORTUNE XI. After the former hurry and beating being over, his work being stopt, he went to bed and slept a' that day, and following night. On the next day, having nothing to do, she sent him in search of a hen's nest, which had ta'en some by-place to lay her eggs in : so as poor John Was in an auld kill searching a' about the walls, the kill-ribs broke, and down he goes with a vengeance into the logie, cutted and bruised himself in a terrible manner ; up he could not win, but had to creep out at the logie below, scarce able to get hame, his face and nose all running of blood. In this condition she pitied and lamented for him very much, tied his sores and laid him in b e d ; then sat down very kindly, saying, u My dear, and my lamb, do you think there is ony of your banes broken ; and what part of you is saire t P And what will I get �2:\ to do good P 44 Oh r said lie, " Girzy, I'm a brizzled atween the feet," " A r e ye indeed?" quoth she, 44 then I wish ye had broken your neck, that I might a gotten anither, useless ae way, and useless mae ways, upo' my word, ye's no be here, gang whare ye like." MISFORTUNE XII. Y'fuLfhniJctfesl h ot ef*9<ra* n/(oL og Now, as poor John was turned out o' doors next morning, to go awa' hirpling on a staff; one came and tqld hini his mother had died last night. Oh hoc.h j said Johi}, and is n*y mither clean dead! O an she wac|( but lop}* dowp thrqugh the lift, and see how I'm guide d this morning, I'm sure she wacj send death for me too. I'm out o' a mither and out o' a wife, out o' my health and strength, and a' my warklooms. His mother-in-law and pleaded for im: Haud your tongue, mither, said Girzy, if ye kent what ail'd him ye wadna speak about him, he's useless, no worth the keeping in a house, but to ca' him to die like an auld beast at a dyke- �24 side. Hout tout, co' the auld wife, w e l l mak o' him and he'll mend again. So John got peace made up after a', and he was easier mended than the burnt web; got all his treadles andwarklooms set in order, the wife's tongue excepted, which was made of wormwood, and the rest of her body of sea water, which is always in a continual tempest. So John appeals to a Jedburgh Jury if it be not easier to deal wi' fools than headstrong fashious fouks; owns he has but an empty skull, but his wicked wife wants wit to pour judgment into it, never tells him o' danger till it comes upon him, for his mother said he was a biddable bairn, if ony body had been to learn him wit. FINIS. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3d69cfe387c27e44833cba0845409589.jpg f78e2189bd255e325b297bc6baa7afd5 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3356 Width 1956 Document A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The comical history of Simple John and his twelve misfortunes: which happened all in twelve days after the unhappy day of his marriage. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Wit and humor Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923288563505154">s0488b15</a> Description An account of the resource '53' is printed at the foot of the title page Woodcut portrait of smiling man on title-page Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 15 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="niversity%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f7b94a90bf4643c43e34d1a4e7bfcee9.jpg f1411d4168f50551e0e57aa92a1de1a4 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3848 Width 2208 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f31b38d050571cccc89dc470abaf14c8.jpg 56d1ad05fceddcb7870f01a9d80ddee3 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3366 Width 1772 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The history of the Haverel wives, or The folly of witless women displayed. Written by Humphray Clinker the clashing wives clerk. Being a comical conference between Maggy and Janet his two old aunts. With Janet's advice to Maggy, concerning marriage, with the manner in which she courted her husband, which began by her taking him by the twa lugs and kissing him. To which is added, an oration on the virtues of the old women and the pride of the young. Dictated by Janet Clinker, and written by Humphray Clinker, the clashing wives' clerk. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks, Scottish Chapbooks-Scotland-Stirling Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Humphray Clinker Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1820-1830 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923333933505154">s0493b47</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Stirling, Scotland Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The folly of witless women displayed Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the pubic domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 17 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Stirling: Printed by William Macnie and sold wholesale and retail https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d904b1e43aea4b285e686512d6d12bf8.pdf 51acb2d7759f10c7fcb3fe90c0b3e478 PDF Text Text THE POPULAR STORIES SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM MASON OF GRANADA. GLASGOW: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. ��THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. ON the summit of one of the heights of the Odenwald, a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany, that lies not far from the confluence of the Maine and the Rhine, there stood, many, many years since, the Castle of the Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, and almost buried among beechtrees and dark firs; above which, however, its old watch-tower may still be seen struggling, like tho former possessor I have mentioned, to carry a high head, and look down npon the neighbouring country. The baron was a dry branch of the great family of Katzenellenbogen,* and inherited the relics of the property, and all the pride of his ancestors. Though the warlike disposition of his predecessors had much impaired the family possessions, yet the baron still endeavoured to keep np some show of former state. The times were peaceable, and the German nobles, in general, had abandoned their inconvenient old castles, perched like eagles' nests among the mountains, and had built more convenient residences in the valleys: still the baron remained proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cherishing, with hereditary inveteracy, all the old family feuds; so that he was on ill terms with some of his nearest neighbours, on ac* i. e. CAT'S-ELBOW—the name of a family of those parts very powerful in former times. The appellation, we are told, was given in compliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for her fine arm. �4 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. count of disputes that had happened between their great-great-grandfathers. The baron had but one child, a daughter; but nature, when she grants but one child, always compensates by making it a prodigy; and so it was with the daughter of the baron. All the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty in all Germany ; and who should know better than they ? She had, moreover, been brought up with great care under the superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some years of their early life at one of the little German courts, and were skilled in all the branches of knowledge necessary to the education of a fine lady. Under their instructions she became a miracle of accomplishments. B y the time she was eighteen, she could embroider to admiration, and had worked whole histories of the saints in tapestry, with such strength of expression in their countenances, that they looked like so many souls in purgatory. She could read without great difficulty, and had spelled her way through several church legends, and almost all the chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. She had even made considerable proficiency in writing; could sign her own name without missing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it without spectacles. She excelled in making little # elegant good-for-nothing lady-like nicknacks of all kinds; was versed in the most abstruse dancing of the d a y ; played a number of airs on the harp and guitar; and knew all the tender ballads of the Minnielieders by heart. Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes in their younger days, were admirably calculated to be vigilant guardians and strict censors of the conduct of their niece; for there is no duenna so rigidly prudent, and inexorably decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She was rarely suffered out of their sight; never went beyond the domains of tho �MB SttidfM MfMa&ooM, 6 castle, unless well attended, or rather well watched; had continual lectures read to her about strict decorum and implicit obedience; and, as to the men—pah!— she was taught to hold them at such a distance, and in such absolute distrust, that, unless properly authorized, she would not have cast a glance upon the hanrlsomest cavalier in the world^—no, not if he were eve© dying at her feet. The good effects of this system were wonderfully apparent. The young lady was a pattern of docility < and correctness. While others were wasting- their sweetness in the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and thrown aside by every hand, she was coyly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood under the protection of those immaculate spinsters, like a rose-bud blushing forth among guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride and exultation, and vaunted that though all the other young ladies in the world might go astray, yet, thank Heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenellenbogen. But, however scantily the Baron Yon Landshort might be provided with children, his household was by no means a small one; for Providence had enriched him with abundance of poor relations. They, one and all, possessed the affectionate disposition common to htfmble relatives; were wonderfully atwtached to the baron, and took every possible occasion to come in swarms and enliven the castle. All family festivals w7ere commemorated by these good peopie at the baron's expense; and when they were filled with good cheer, they would declare that there Wfts nothing on earth so delightful as these family meet' ings, these jubilees of the heart. The baron, though a small man, had a large sotd and it swelled w ith satisfaction at the consciousness of being the greatest man in the little w7orld abom him. He loved to tell long stories about the sta?K �6 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. old warriors whose portraits looked grimly down from the walls around, and he found no listeners equal to* those who fed at his expense- H e mivcfr $ v m to the marvellous, and a firm believer in all thosei supernatural tales with, which every fountain and valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests exceeded even his own ; they listened to every taW of wonder with open eyes and mouth), and never failed to be astonished, even though repeated for the hundredth time. Thus lived the |3aron Von Landr? short, the oracle of his table, the absolute mon-arob of his little territory, and happy, above all things, ia the persuasion that he was the wisest man of the age. A t the time of which my story treats*, there was a great family gathering at the castle,, on an a$air of the utmost importance; it was to receive the destined bridegroom of the baron's daughter. A wegotija.tion had been carried on between the fathet and an old nobleman of Bavaria, ta unite the, dignity of their houses by the marriage of their children. The pre-* liminaries had been conducted with proper punctilio. The young people were bethrothed without seeing each, other, and the time was appinted for the marriage ceremony. The young Count Von Altenburg had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was actually on his way to the baron's to, receive hia bride. Missives had even been received! from himy from Wurtzburg, where he was accidentally detained^ mentioning the day and hour when he might be ex*, pected to arrive. The castle was in a tumult of preparation; ta give him a suitable welcome. The fair bride had been decked out with uncommon care. The two aimts. bad superintended her toilet, and quarrelled the whei& morning about every article of her dress. The young lady had taken advantage of their contest to follow the bent of her own taste, and fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely as youthful bride* �7 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. groom could desire; and the flutter of expectation heightened the lustre of her charms. The suffusions that mantled her face and neck, the gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost in reverie, all betrayed the soft tmnult that was going on in her little heart. The aunts were con tin-. ually hovering around her ; for maiden aunts are apt to take great interest in affairsof this nature. They were giving her a world of staid counsel how to deport herself, what to say, and in what manner to receive the expected lover. The baron w7as no less busied in preparation. H e had, in truth, nothing exactly to d o ; but he was naturally a fuming, bustling little man, and could not, remain, passive when all the world was in a hurry. He worried from top to bottom of the castle with, an air of infinite anxiety ; he continually called the sqr^ vants from, their work to exhort them to be djjigenj;;, and buzzed about every hall and chamber a$ idly restless and importunate as a, blue-bottle fly on a, warm summer's day. In the meantime the fatted calf had been killed ;, the forests had rung with the clamour of the huntsmen ; the kitchen was crowded with, good cheer; the cellars had yielded up whole oceans of Bhein-wein and Ferne-wein ; and even the great Heidelburgtun had been laid under contribution, Everything was ready to receive the distinguished guest with Sausr and Braus in the true spirit of German hospitality— but the guest delayed to make his appearance. H^our rolled after hour. The sun, that had poured his, downward rays upon the rich forest of the Odenwald, now j/ust gleamed along the summits of the mountains. The baron mounted the highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of catching a distant sight of the count and his attendants. Once he thought he beheld them ; the sound of horns came floating from the valley, prolonged by the mountain echoes* �8 spectre m t v m m o u s A number of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing along the road; but when they had nearly reached the foot of the mountain, they suddenly struck off in a different direction. The last ray of sunshine departed—the bats began to flit by in the twilight—• the road grew dimmer and dimmer to the view, and nothing appeared stirring in it, but now and then a peasant lagging homeward from his labour. While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of perplexity, a very interesting scene was transacting in a different part of the Odenwald. The young Count Yon Altenburgh was tranquilly pursuing his route in that sober jog-trot way in which a man travels towards matrimony when his friends have taken all the trouble and uncertainty of courtship off his hands, and a bride is waiting for him as certainly as a dinner at the end of his journey. He had encountered at Wurtzburg a youthful companion in arms, with whom he had seen some gervice on the frontiers; Herman Yon Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and worthiest hearts of German chivalry, who was now returning from the army. His father's castle was not far distant from the old fortress of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rendered the families hostile and strangers to each other. In the warm-hearted moment of recognition, the young friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and the count gave the whole history of his intended nuptials with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose charms he had received the most enrapturing descriptions. As the route of the friends lay in the same direction, they agreed to perform the rest of their journey together; and, that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the count having given directions for his retinue to follow and overtake him. �9 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections of their military scenes and adventures; but the count was apt to be a little tedious, now and then, about the reputed charms of his bride, and the felicity that awaited him. In this way they had entered among the mountains of the Odenwald, and were traversing one of its most lonely and thickly-wooded passes. It is well known that the forests of Germany have always been as much infested by robbers as its castles by spectres; and, at this time, the former were particularly numerous, from the hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering about the country. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that the cavaliers were attacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the midst of the forest. They defended themselves with bravery, but were nearly overpowered, when the count's retinue arrived to their assistance. A t sight of them the robbers fled, but not until the count had received a mortal wound. H e was slowly and carefully conveyed back to the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from a neighbouring convent, who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul and body; but half of his skill was superfluous; the moments of the unfortunate count were numbered. With his dying breath he entreated his friend to repair instantly to the castle of Landshort, and explain the fatal cause of his not keeping his appointment with his bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the most punctilious of men, and appeared earnestly solicitous that his mission should be speedily and courteously executed. "Unless this is done," said he, " I shall not sleep quietly in my grave!" He repeated these last words with peculiar solemnity. A request, at a moment so impressive, admitted of no hesitation. Starkenfaust endeavoured to soothe him to calmness; promised faithfully to execute his wish, and gave him his hand �10 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. in solemn pledge. The dying man pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed into delirium—raved about his bride—his engagements—his plighted word; ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of Landshort; and expired in the fancied act of vaulting into the saddle. Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh arid a soldier's tear on the untimely fate of his comrade; and then pondered on the awkward mission he had undertaken. Ilis heart was heavy, and his head perplexed; for lie was to present himself an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes. Still there were certain Whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this farfamed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut up from the world; for he was a passionate admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of eccentricity and enterprise in his character that made him fond of all simple adventure. Previous to his departure he made all due arrangements with the holy fraternity of the convent for the funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried in the cathedral of Wurtzburg, near some of his illustrious relatives; and the mourning retinue of the count took charge of his remains. It is now high time that we should return to the ancient family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their guest, and still more for their dinner; and to the worthy little baron, whom we left airing himself on the watch-tower. ft ight closed in, but still no guest arrived. The baron descended from the tower in despair. The banquet, which had been delayed from hour to hour, could no longer be postponed. The meats were already overdone; the cook in an agony; and the whole household had the look of a garrison that had been reduced by famine. The baron was obliged reluctantly to give orders for the feast without the presence of the �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U gnest. All were seated at table, and just on the point of commencing, when the sound of a horn from without the gate gave notice of the approach of a stranger. Another long blast filled the old courts of the castle with its echoes, and was answered b y the warder from the walls. The baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law. The drawbridge had been let down, and the stranger wTas before the gate. H e was a tall, gallant cavalier, mounted on a black steed. H i s countenance was pale, but he had a beaming, romantic eye, and an air of stately melancholy. The baron was a little mortified that he should have come in this simple, solitary style. His dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt disposed to consider it a want of proper respect for the important occasion, and the important family with which he was to be connected. H e pacified himself, however, with the conclusion, that it must have been youthful impatience which had induced him thus to spur on sooner than his attendants. " I am sorry," said the stranger, " t o break in upon y o u thus unseasonably " Here the baron interrupted him with a world of compliments and greetings, for, to tell the truth, he prided himself upon his courtesy and eloquence. T h e stranger attempted, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words, but in vain; so he bowed his head, and suffered it to flow on. B y the time the baron had come to a pause, they had reached the inner court of the castle; and the stranger wTas again about to speak* when he was once more interrupted b y the appearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride. H e gazed on h e r for a moment as one entranced; it seemed as if his whole soul beamed forth in the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form. One of the maiden aunts whispered something in her e a r ; she made an effort to fipeak; her moist blue eye was timidly raised; gave �12 THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. a shy glance of inquiry on the stranger; and was cmst again to the ground. The words died away; but there was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It was impossible for a girl of the fond age of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier. The late hour at which the guest had arrived left BO time for parley. The baron was peremptory, and deferred all particular conversation until the morntag, and led the way to the untasted banquet. It was served up in the great hall of the castle. Around the walls hung the hard-favoured portraits of the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen, and the trophies which they had gained in the field and in the chase. Hacked corslets, splintered jousting Spears, and tattered banners, were mingled with the spoils of sylvan warfare; the jaws of the wolf, and the tusks of the boar, grinned horribly among crossbows and battle-axes, and a huge pair of antlers branched immediately over the head of the youthful bridegroom. The cavalier took but little notice of the company, Or the entertainment. H e scarcely tasted the banuet, but seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride, fe conversed in a low tone that could not be overheard—for the language of love is never loud; but where is the female ear so dull that it cannot catch Ihe softest whisper of the lover ? There was a mingled tenderness and gravity in his manner, that appeared to have a powerful effect upon the young ytdy. Her colour came and went as she listened with deep attention. N o w and then she made some blush!ng reply, and when his eye was turned away, she Would steal a sidelong glance at his romantic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh of tender happiness. I t was evident that the young couple were completely f �13 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. enamoured. The aunts, who were deeply versed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in love with each other at first sight. The feast went on merrily, or, at least, noisily, for the guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that attend upon light purses and mountain air. The baron told his best and longest stories, and never had he told them so well, or with such great effect. If there was anything marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonishment; and if anything facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly in the right place. The baron, it is true, like most great men, was too dignified to utter any joke but a dull one; it was always enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent H o c k heimer; and even a dull joke, at one's own table, served up with jolly old wine, is irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer and keener wits, that would not bear repeating, except on similar occasions; many sly speeches whispered in ladies' ears, that almost convulsed them with suppressed laughter; and a song or two roared out by a poor, but merry and broad-faced cousin of the baron, that absolutely made the maiden aunts hold up their fans. Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest maintained a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His countenance assumed a deeper cast of dejection as the evening advanced; and, strange as it may appear, even the baron's jokes seemed only to render him the more melancholy. A t times he was lost in thought, and at times there was a perturbed and restless wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His conversations with the bride became more and more earnest and mysterious. Lowering clouds began to steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run through her tender frame. All this could not escape the notice of the company. Their gaiety was chilled by the unaccountable gloom of the bridegroom; their spirits were in- �14 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. fected ; whispers and glances were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the laugh grew less and less frequent; there were dreary pauses in the conversation, which were at length succeeded by w7ild tales and supernatural legends. One dismal story produced another still more dismal, and the baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away the fair Leonora ; a dreadful story, which has since been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all the world. The bridegroom listened to this tale with profound attention. l i e kept his eyes steadily fixed on the baron, and, as the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, until, in the baron's entranced eye, he seemed almost to tower into a giant. The moment the tale was finished he heaved a deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell of the company. They were all amazement. The baron was perfectly thunderstruck. " W h a t ! going to leave the castle at midnight? why, everything was prepared for his reception; a chamber was ready for him if he wished to retire." The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysteriously ; " I must lay my head in a different chamber to-night!" There was something in this reply, and the tone in which it was uttered, that made the baron's heart misgive him ; but he rallied his forces, and repeated his hospitable entreaties. The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at every offer; and, waving his farewell to the company, stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were absolutely petrified-—the bride hung her head, and a tear stole to her eye. The baron followed the stranger to the great court of the castle, where the black charg*er stood pawing �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U the earth, and snorting with impatience. When they had reached the portal, whose deep archway wras dimlv lighted by a cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the baron in a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted roof rendered still more sepulchral. " Now that we are alone," said he, " I will impart to you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable engagement " " W h y , " said the baron, "cannot you send some 3ne in your place V* " It admits of no substitute—I must attend it in person—I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral——'' " A y , " said the baron, plucking up spirit, " b u t not until to-morrow—to-morrow you shall take your bride there." " N o ! n o ! " replied the stranger, with tenfold solemnity, u my engagement is with no bride—the worms ! the worms expect me! I am a dead man— I have been slain by robbers—my body lies at Wurtzburg—at midnight I am to be buried—the grave is waiting for me—I must keep my apppointment !" He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the drawbridge, and the clattering of his horse's hoofs was lost in the whistling of the night-blast. The baron returned to the hall in the utmost consternation, and related what had passed. Two ladies fainted outright, others sickened at the idea of having banqueted with a spectre. It was the opinion of some, that tliis might be the wild huntsman, famous in German legend. Some talked of mountain sprites, of wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings, with which the good people of Germany have been so grievously harassed since time immemorial. • One of the poor relations ventured to suggest that it might be some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so melancholy a personage. This, however, drew on him the indignation of the whole com- �16 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. pany, and especially of the baron, who looked upon him as little better than an infidel; so that he was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible, and come into the faith of the true believers. But whatever may have been the doubts entertained, they were completely put to an end by the arrival, next day, of regular missives, confirming the intelligence of the young count's murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral. The dismay at the castle may well be imagined. The baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who had come to rejoice with him, could not think of abandoning him in his distress. They wandered about the courts, or collected in groups in the hall, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the troubles of so good a man; and sat longer than ever at table, and ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits. But the situation of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To have lost a husband before she had even embraced him—and such a husband ! if the very spectre could be so gracious and noble, what must have been the living man ? She filled the house with lamentations. On the night of the second day of her widowhood she had retired to her chamber, accompanied by one of her aunts, who insisted on sleeping wTith her. The aunt, who was one of the best tellers of ghost-stories in all Germany, had just been recounting one of her longest, and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The chamber was remote, and overlooked a small garden. The neice lay pensively gazing at the beams of the rising moon, as they trembled on the leaves of an aspen-tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just tolled midnight, when a soft strain of music stole up from the garden. She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood among the shadows of the tree. A s it raised its head, a beam of moonlight fell upon the counten- �t m M&cmti MiwmmoM* 17 atice. Heaven and earth! she beheld the Spectre? Bridegroom ! A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who had been awakened by the music, and had followed her silently to the window, fell into her arms. When she looked again, the spectre had disappeared. Of the two females, the aunt now required the most soothing, for she was perfectly beside herself with terror. As to the young lady, there was something, even in the spectre of her lover, that seemed endearing. There was still the semblance of manly beauty; and though the shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where the substance is not to be had, even that is consoling. The aunt declared she never would sleep in that chamber again ; the niece, for once, was refractory, and declared as strongly that she would sleep in no other in the castle : the consequence was, that she had to sleep in it alone: but she drew a promise from her aunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she should be denied the only melancholy pleasure left her on earth—that of inhabiting the chamber over which the guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly vigils. H o w long the good old lady would have observed this promise is uncertain, for she dearly loved to talk of the marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the first to tell a frightful story; it is, however, still quoted in the neighbourhood, as a memorable instance of female secrecy, that she kept it to herself for a whole week; when she was suddenly absolved from all further restraint, by intelligence brought to the breakfast-table one morning that the young lady was not to be found. Her room was empty—the bed had not been slept in—the window wTas open, and the bird had flown ! The astonishment and concern with which the intelligence was received, can only be imagined by those �18 TIIE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM. who have witnessed the agitation which the mishaps of a great man cause among his friends. Even the poor relations paused for a moment from the indefatigable labours of the trencher; when the aunt, who had at first been struck speechless, wrung her hands, and shrieked out, " The goblin! the goblin ! she's carried away by the goblin !" In a few words she related the fearful scene of the garden, and concluded that the spectre must have carried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for they had heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the spectre on his black charger, bearing her away to the tomb. All present were struck with the direful probability; for events of the kind are extremely common in Germany, as many well- authenticated histories bear witness. What a lamentable situation was that of the poor baron!' What a heart-rending dilemma for a fond father, and a member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen ! His only daughter had either been rapt away to the grave, or he \ym to have some wood-demon for a son-in-law, and perchance, a troop of goblin grandchildren. As usual, he was completely bewildered, and all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered to take horse, and scour every road and path and glen of the Odenwald. The baron himself had just drawn on his jack-boots, girded on his sword^ and was about to mount iiis steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, when he was. brought to a pause by a new apparition. A lady was seen approaching, the castle, mounted on a palfrey, attended by a cavalier on horseoaek. She galloped up to the gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at the baron's feet^ embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter, and her companion—the Spectre Bridegroom ! The baron was astounded. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted the evidence of hi§ �TIIE SPECTRE BRZDEGROOM. U senses. The latter, too, was wonderfully improved in his appearance since his visit to the world of spirits. His dress was splendid, and set off a noble figure of manly symmetry. He wTas no longer pale and melaiH clioly. His fine countenance was flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his large dark eye. The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier (for, in truth, as you must have known alt the while, he was no goblin) announced himself as Sir Herman Y o n Starkenfaust. He related his adventure with the young count. He told how he had hastened to the castle to deliver the unwelcome tidings, but that the eloquence of the baron had interrupted him in every attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the bride had completely captivated him, and that to pass a few hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the mistake to continue. H o w he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a decent retreat, until the baron's goblin stories had suggested his eccentric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth—had haunte$ the garden beneath the young lady's window—had wooed—had won—had borne away in triumph—and, in a word, nad wedded the fair. Under any other circumstances the baron would have been inflexible, for he was tenacious of paternal authority, and devoutly obstinate in all family feuds; but he loved his daughter; he had lamented her as lost; he rejoiced to find her still alive ; and, though her husband was of a hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he was not a goblin. There was something, it must be acknowledged, that did not exactly accord with his notions of strict veracity, in the joke the knight had passed upon him of his being a dead man ; but several old friends present, who had served in the wars, assured him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and that the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege, having lately served as a trooDer. �20 KM sptertiE mivmti&oM. Matters, therefore, were happily arranged. The baron pardoned the young couple on the spot. The revels at the castle were resumed. The poor relations overwhelmed this new member of the family with loving-kindness ; he wTas so gallant, so generous —and so rich. The aunts, it is true, were somewhat scandalized that their system of strict seclusion and passive obedience should be so badly exemplified, but attributed it all to their negligence in not having the windows grated. One of them wTas particularly mortified at having her marvellous story marred, and that the only spectre she had ever seen should turn out a counterfeit; but the niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him substantial flesh and blood—and so the story ends. END OF THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM, �T H E M A S O N OF G R A N A D A . There was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holidays, and Saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. One night he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and was accosted by a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking priest. " H a r k ye, honest friend!" said the stranger, " I have observed that you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you undertake a job this very night?" " With all my heart, Senor Padre, on condition that I am paid accordingly." " That you shall b e ; but you must suffer yourself to be blindfolded." To this the mason made no objection; so, being hoodwinked, he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and winding passages, until they stopped before the portal of a house. The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking lock, and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was conducted through an echoing corridor, ami a spacious hall, to an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted by a single lamp. In the centre was the dry basin of an old Moorish fountain, under which the priest requested him to form a small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the purpose. He accordingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just before day-break, the �22 THE MASON OE GEANADA. priest put a piece of gold into his hand, and haying again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his dwelling. " Are you willing," said he, " to return and complete your work ?" " Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am so well paid." " Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again." He did so, and the vault was completed. " N o w , " said the priest, " y o u must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to be buried in this vault," The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words: he followed the priest, with trembling steps, into a retired chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectac^o of death, but was relieved on perceiving three or four portly jars standing in one corner. They were evidently full of money, and it was with great labour that he and the priest carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The vault was then closed, the pavement replaced, and all traces of the work obliterated. The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route different from that by which he had come. After they had wandered for a long time through a perplexed maze of lanes and alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold into his band: " Wait here," said he, " until you hear the cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover your eyes before that time, evil will befall y o u : " so saying, he departed. The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing the gold pieces in his hand, and clinking them against each other. The moment the cathedral bell rang its matin peal, he uncovered his eyes, and found himself on the banks of the Xenil, from whence he made the best of his way home, and revelled with his family for a whole fortnight on the �THE MASON 0 2 GRANAD4. 23 profits of his two nights' work; after which he was as poor as ever. He continued to work a little, and pray a good deal, and keep saints' days and holidays, from year to year, while his family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gypsies. As he was seated one evening at the door of his hovel, he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon, who was noted for owning many houses, and being a griping landlord. The man of money eyed him for a moment from beneath a pair of anxious shagged eyebrows. " I am told, my friend, that you are very poor.'* " I h e r e is no denying the fact, Senor—it speaks for itself." " I presume, then, that you will be glad of a job, and will work cheap." " A s cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada/' "That's what I want. I have an old house fallen into decay, that costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair, for nobody will live in it; so I must contrive to patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as possible." The mason was accordingly conducted to a large deserted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain. He paused for a moment, for a dreaming recollection of the place came over him. " Pray," said he, " who occupied this house formerly ?" " A pest upon him," cried the landlord, " i t was an old miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was said to be immensely rich, and having no relations, it was supposed would leave all his treasures to the Church. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take possession of bis wealth; but nothing could they find but a few ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck �24 THE MASON OF GRANADA. has fallen on me, for, since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of a dead man. The people pretend to hear the clinking of gold all night in the chamber where the old priest slept, as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true or false, these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a tenant will remain in it." " E n o u g h , " said the mason sturdily; " let me live in your house rent-free until some better tenant present, and I will engage to put it in repair, and to quiet the troubled spirit that disturbs it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not to be daunted by the Devil himself, even though he should come in the shape of a big bag of money! " The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his engagements. B y little and little he restored it to its former state; the clinking of gold was no more heard at night in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neighbours, and became one of the richest men in Granada: he gave large sums to the Church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never revealed the secret of the vault until on his death-bed, to his son and heir. � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/a6257215e708062e578442c3f55452fc.jpg d3986dc6f0c396b059a8b3cf5e8748c2 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3129 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The popular stories of The spectre bridegroom and The mason of Granada. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Glasgow Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1850 per University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934059213505154">s0582b28</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The spectre bridegroom The mason of Granada. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Is Referenced By A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource. University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks <a href="University%20of%20Glasgow%20Union%20Catalogue%20of%20Scottish%20Chapbooks%20%20http%3A//special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/</a> Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of a fashionable man standing with a boy and girl, trees in background surrounded by woodcut border '29' is printed at the foot of the title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/17da837d0283a93ebaf83b486269bc9c.jpg 588634d49b06da049141dece4fc42dd3 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3526 Width 2230 https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/f07760fba46d92f944fc773b62a2560d.jpg d18a4dfdcca38158fd02d84c54690440 Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3308 Width 1891 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The history of King Robt. Bruce, containing the memorable battle of Bannockburn, &amp;c &amp;c. &amp;c. Subject The topic of the resource War Chapbooks - Scotland - Edinburgh Robert I, King of Scots, 1274-1329 Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1840-1850 per National Library of Scotland Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934228223505154">s0585b35</a> Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Glasgow, Scotland Description An account of the resource '15' is printed at the top right of the title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For higher quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Extent The size or duration of the resource. 24 pages 16 cm Source A related resource from which the described resource is derived Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario Chapbook Genre: biography https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/d6f8782d4e445c33a1a0fca45b197881.pdf 0a26ec88674e54614fa19273f75b20e1 PDF Text Text Weather Beaten O R T H Soger/ E Burgo-Mafter of Venice. I N FOUR PARTS. Edinburgh • Printed by J« Marten CWgatfij, , �THE WEATHER-BEATEN SOGER, P A -II T ERE you may fe« the turns of fate, From woe to joy, from poor to great; 4 mark oi Fortune's fpecial ]ovp, Who did a fokliers gri^f remove* One who An former days, ?tis told, Had trudg'd through weather hot and cold, *TiU he was poor and pennyfefs You would have laughM to«ve feen the drefs* His fhoes with trudging up and down, No fole the}' had; a hat no crown ; His coat no fleeves, his Curt the farrte, But by his fide a {word of fame. Without a fcabbard good or bad, Nor was there any to be had; Bis coat and breeches would not come, In deptlf to cover half.his buro. Now being weary of his trade ; One day he to his Captain ftid, Pray now give me a lull difeharge, That 1 my fortune may enlarge. I am perfuaded £ lhall be, 4 burgo-mafter, Sir, faid h$> T o Venice, if you'll let me go* Hi» Ciptain fmiling,. attfwer\lr No> With you, faid he, I will not part? Then, thought the foldier, H i defcrt. My colour^ let what will befal: % ^iid foon he went For good and all. Now as he mareh'd with all his might* & ^Qaqhman 3?n4 Hit yortfry. kr.ig'nt. H �Upon the road he chanc'd to find, And afkVi to borrow full fi ve pound. At this the Knight laughM out avails, A * d faid, When wilt you pay% again ? He anfvverM, Sir you ftuili be paid, When t am a Burgo- mailer made. Of Vepice, which (hill be my lot, The Noble Knight away he got, ^ Apd laugh'd to iee hira inthattru^, But yet the the coachman lent it him* This being clone away he,went, T o Venice, where iome time he fpent. T o view the palace rich and gay. And then to Burgo's weat away, Who kept a houfe to entertain All kin4s of g^efis—*s it is pUin ; He cail'd for wine and liquor free. Though in $ wretched gatb was P A R T IL n P H l S foldier was,ftgallant blade* And while in pleafare tliere he fiay'd Behold a 'Squire who lived peaty Courted the Bur, ©Ss daughter dear, Now as he kept h«r company, One day the foldier lit tin ? by, Feigning aileep, did overhear Iheir private talk as will appear, Part of their amorous chat was this * Mv dear tweet love and charming btifs Let mo enj«y this felt-lame mght. The dapiei told him that he migH^ If he would to her chamber creep, When all the houfe were fail alleep, About the hour of twelve o'tlock, She vf©uld the door for him unlock. �f + ) The foldier heard the whole defigsi, Thought he, The plea fur e fliall be mm And thereupon he went before, To the young Lady's chamber-door. He knock'd, and ioon The let him in, A pleafant game did theft begin, And ere arl houi's time It was pail. Her love the *Squire did come at all, He knock'd, Who's there I the Lady The foldier lying by her fide* Said, it's ihe ragged fellow furet Who feem?d as if hefiepf iecure* He heard us and is \ojne to have, The pleafure that our live did crave; Eat it s in vain, I Hi all a life And daflt the pife-pot in his eyes. Accordingly, in woful cfcft, He .dalhM it in thr 'Squire's face ; Away he goes, and nothing faid, Ss^pofing it had been the maid* She laughed at the pleafant jeft, And pave him then among the reft. A diamoad ring Vith kiffes fweet, But did not underftand the cheat. Then he arofe and went his vray. Behold on the fucceeding day, Upon his right han& the ring fhe fpy'd, Pray where had you the fame ihe a j % He anfwerM then* and thus hs fa'd, Pray be not in the leaft dife^y'd; For you was loving, kind and free, Left night, and gave the fame to *ie. O blcfs me did 1 ly witti you ? Since it is fo I pray be tr*»e; �A ad do not let the fame be told* So thou (halt never want for gold. He vowd he would conceal the fanvef Soon after this the 'Squire he csune, Saying, Why was you fo unkind? The pifs-pot mace me almyft blind* , 1 he yovaWul datfifel amwer'd thus'Tis good enough if it were v/orfc; Becaufe \ou thought to ruin rae^ My honour and my' ehaftitr F A R ^T III. T N pari; the third we irm(l retirnv ^ Untb & .mighty. greli comexp, Confifting of fooie thought! pounds, Which the poor fodier*s fortune crowns* Behold her we ally father he, Did fend four Weightyfljiip/sto fea* Ltded mith glorious merchandize, Rich filks with other wares like wife, They lied been gone fu)l even years, Ke $#J„e nor tiding they coyld hear^ Of thorn at lerigtk he. gave thet» o'er, Alid never thou ht to fee them m^re. At length there was a letter brought, The ibips frere fafe with riches ir aught Near to the borders of the land r Which newiJ .carae to his daughters kan \ Then having vjew'd ^pi fe^d tfie igjpe? She to the ragged foldier came* Crying, My dear, be true to me, You fhftli a Burgb-taafter be My Father thinks his Slips afe lofi^ Which now are on the Venice cosft ; 1 ere he does the tidings hear, Go buy his rights in them fiy defcn �And when thou hall ths bargain bought Of four large ihips richly fraught; Be what it will of me sou fliall Have money to p ay for it all. Then on her father he did wait, And firuck a bargain with himllt night; For the four ftiips four hundred pound, W i t h e r tbe fame be loll or foundNo fooner the bargain mack, And that fmail C m of money paid; u But he heard the {hips were come, Thtir burden was a mighty fum. Thsn did the Surgo-mailer fret, ?Cnufe he With fceh a'lofs;hadmtt; Butince It could no beitd.Fbe, lie with the foldier did ag ee, To take the daughter for * bride, With all tny heart he then reply'd; Then out of hand theymairHed #ere, Th$ foldief find the lady fair. Ho fooner w'ere they made man and wife., But ilrakht her father loft this life, And when he ffi'fiis rave Vvas laid, The fori was Btirgo.mafter made, He that had travel d uiany rnlWs, Wat n<*w by Fortu e*s fpeWial frniles, Made ntighty, powerful aniigre&t, And knewp A r his eftate. ho end or r iv\ X T O W -wind the iaf> part I pr*.?, IM n > ^-leil'on MX- you'll fay Still as yo\x read theftdry oU^ "Ike things #e re (Iran; brought about* WhiU he was Bslv.-a l i f t e r there, His former Cajptain did repair. �Unto his home, by cnanoe to dine. With other brave commanders fine, The Burgotnafler feeing that, He ftrai/ht put on his CY- wniefs Imt, With all hi3 other ffgged clothes, And fp into the room he goes. The Captain then t>eg*n t* iwear, Lieutenant, pray fee who is there, My ragged Burgo-mafter, who In private from bis colours flew. Straight* from the pufenceol his.gqiOs\ He ftept away, him felt he dreft, In fumptuous robes he dreft amain, And then return d to them again. The Captain (aid, right worthy Sir Here is v, foolifh ragged cur, Endued with /either wit no fenfe, I'll bang him or I go trota j^nce* . He from his colours did..o.efert. The Bur go faid, be not fo turt> r; In pre fence of thefe gentleman > Write bis difeharge,, here V guineas Us. He wrote the fame and tSok the gold, The Burgo*mafter laid, behold, I am the man, nd now at la(L , • What once I faid has come to pafs. The Captain then began to fu!*e,. v f ; And told his gallants in t&e room. If he had known a; much before, It ihould have cois him ten times more. And the;* within a momh and lefs, The Knight who once he did ad: refs1 o lend him five pounds on the road^ C^pat there to ta'ce up his abo$e* • ; �The Burgo rafter as before, Put on his robes both rent and tore; So that the Knight might know hi«i flraight As he did on his ^orftiip wait. He to his coachman turned round, And faid, there's one awes cm fife pound, When do yoti trunk the fame to et ? FJe is not bargewtnafter yet* The coachman f id.' as ] do live, I freely do the fame forgive? ffor to my grief Iftill do fee, Me^et remains in poverty. B or feme fliort time he ijrerit away, And drefs'd himfelf in rich array, la feathers fine and rich perfume, and fo return'd into the room* Hating difcoursM vith them n vlile. He told the c#achm»n with a fiiiilc, Ashe helped him in timaof nted* HE would return it now indeed. He gave hita then fire thoufand pound. Like wife a match for him he found, 4 fweet young lady fair and clear, Daughter to a renowned Peer. he knight was vexed to the heart, That he mull with his fervant part: But let him grieve, it sauft be fo, Whether his Lor4fcip will or no. Thus he who once was mean and poor, At len tk enjoy£ a*h§ppy itore, Which Fortune Unto him did fend, And he prove'd grateful to his friend* F I N I S , � https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/18def19c9f28238ff3866d50eb69df52.jpg 02803b8a80a89d128133c1367d5c891e Omeka Image File The metadata element set that was included in the `files_images` table in previous versions of Omeka. These elements are common to all image files. Bit Depth 8 Channels 3 Height 3189 Width 1855 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The weather beaten soger; or The burgo-master of Venice. In four parts. Subject The topic of the resource Chapbooks-Scotland-Edinburgh Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1800 per National Library of Scotland Language A language of the resource English Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context <a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9934220863505154">s0585b50</a> Alternative Title An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific. The burgo-master of Venice. In four parts. Description An account of the resource Woodcut image of couples (8 men and women) in fashionable dress gathered around a dinner table; couple in the foreground is hugging on title page Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner. Extent The size or duration of the resource. 8 pages 15 cm Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Edinburgh: Printed by J. Merren