"I am no more Jockey, sir, than you are John," said the stranger, as
if offended at being addressed by a name, which at that time was used,
as Sawney now is, for a general appellative of the Scottish nation.
"My name, if you must know it, is Richie Moniplies; and I come of the
old and honourable house of Castle Collop, weel kend at the West-Port
of Edinburgh."
"What is that you call the West-Port?" proceeded the interrogator.
"Why, an it like your honour," said Richie, who now, having recovered
his senses sufficiently to observe the respectable exterior of Master
George, threw more civility into his manner than at first, "the West-
Port is a gate of our city, as yonder brick arches at Whitehall form
the entrance of the king's palace here, only that the West-Port is of
stonern work, and mair decorated with architecture and the policy of
bigging."
"Nouns, man, the Whitehall gateways were planned by the great
Holbein," answered Master George; "I suspect your accident has jumbled
your brains, my good friend. I suppose you will tell me next, you have
at Edinburgh as fine a navigable river as the Thames, with all its
shipping?" "The Thames!" exclaimed Richie, in a tone of ineffable
contempt--"God bless your honour's judgment, we have at Edinburgh the
Water-of-Leith and the Nor-loch!"
"And the Pow-Burn, and the Quarry-holes, and the Gusedub, ye fause
loon!" answered Master George, speaking Scotch with a strong and
natural emphasis; "it is such land-loupers as you, that, with your
falset and fair fashions, bring reproach on our whole country.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76