Rough Scan
AT THE CALICO
BALL
AS Provost o’ Stra’bungo, I got
an official invitation tae the Calico Ball—me an’ Betty. Betty at ance
decided tae go as a Newhaven fishwife. It saved her ony expense buyin’
new things, ye see—she jist put on a’ the petticoats she had in the
hoose,
an’ got a creel on her back, a big mutch on her heid, an’ there she
wis.
Wi’ me it wis different. Lang did I swither, an’ much tobacco did I smoke
in my ain wee room thinkin’ ower the maitter. One nicht the minister cam’
in, an’ he says, "There is only one character in history that resembles
you, Provost."
"An’ wha micht that be?" speirs
I.
"Napoleon Bonyparty," says he.
"Bonyparty! Oh, but he wis a faur
greater man than ever I wis," wis my reply.
"Well, certainly, in a way he was,
but there are degrees of greatness, Provost."
"Weel," says I, smokin’ meditatively
up the lum, "nae doot Bonyparty wis a great man, but ye see, minister,
he had sensible men tae dale wi’. If he had had a lot o’ auld wives grumblin’
aboot bad coals an’ dour carters setting up ‘cheek,’ an’ then had to put
on his coat an’ gae tae preside at a Skule Brod meeting, or sit on the
bench dealing oot justice withoot partiality, I’m thinkin’ he wid hae
been sair enough put aboot, an’ I’m no sae sure if he wid ha’ dune ony
better than I dae. But, minister, Napoleon wis aboot my size, wisna he?"
"He was."
"An’ stootness?"
" I think so."
"Then that settles it," says
I.
Sae I got my sword an’ cockit hat that
I use for ceremonials, an’ a pair o’ top boots wi’ the trooser legs inside
like a military man, an’ a swallow-tail coat, an’ awa’ we gaed in a cab.
"Noo, Jeems," says Betty, as
we were hurlin’ alang, "be vera carefu’ aboot that sword, it’s sure
tae be gettin’ fankled in aboot yer legs—carry it ablow yer oxter."
The cab arrived, an’ we were ushered intae
the hail amid the plaudits o’ the assembled crood.
"Bonyparty an’ his lass frae Newhaven,"
the irreligious ragamuffins cried oot.
"Frae Stra’bungo," corrects
I, turning roon, for I like tae be polite even tae a crood.
"Hoora’, it’s Sir Jeems himsel’."
they cries.
So I took aff my hat an’ made a bow, an’
gathering up my sword, in I walked, followed by Betty.
BAILIE, sich a scene as wis in the hall
I never saw in a’ my days afore. There wis—Oh, I canna tell ye one-fiftieth
part o’ what I saw. Really, I never conceived that sae mony illustrious
personages had ever leeved in the worl’ as wis represented that nicht—baith
men an women. I walked aboot wi’ Betty on my arm, the observed o’ a’ observers,
for it wisna often ye could see a French Emperor arm in arm wi a puir
Scotch fisherwoman. Of course, we were jist lettin’ on, still it wis woner’fu’.
Noo, Betty, when we were coortin’, was
coonted rale guid at singing "Wha’ll buy my caller herrin’,"
an’ as we were promenadin’ aboot I whispered tae her, "It’s getting
a wee monotonous, gie us a verse o’ yer favourite sang." So Betty,
being a vera obedient wife, cried oot, "Caller ou! caller ou! "
twice, an’ in a minute she wis the centre o’ a curious crood. I gied her
a nudge, an’ she cleared her throat an commenced tae sing—
Wha’ll buy my caller herring,
My bonnie caller herring
An’ when she cam’ tae the bit aboot "the
lives o’ men," an’ the folk began tae be affected tae tears, I took aff
my hat an’ walked in amang them an’ gathered siller for the sick
bairns. BAILIE, it wis a gran’ plan. Tae see Napoleon Bonyparty going oot an’
in amang them wi’ his cocked hat in his haun gathering siller, jist like
a monkey on an organ, wis what naebody could withstaun. In a wee I had
my hat rinnin’ ower, so I carried it awa' toe the Treasurer. Then a bright
thocht struck me, an’ I got him tae stick up a bill—
GREAT ATTRACTION FOR THIS
NIGHT ONLY,
NAPOLEON BONYPARTY
Will Dance the Heelan’
Fling in full
French Costume.
To Conclude with the Sword
Dance
Admission—Sixpence
The wee room wis crooded tae suffocation,
an’ a guid sum wis gathered for the charity—an’, BAILIE, altho’ I say’t
that shouldna say’t, I quite excelled mysel’. I danced till I wis like
tae drap doon. I first took aff my hat, an’ then my coat, and then wis
unbuttonin’ my waistcoat, but the Secretary said it wid never dae for
Napoleon tae be withoot a waistcoat.
After I had got a gless o’ cham-pagne,
I gaed awa’ intae the ballroom again tae enjoy mysel', an seein’ a
nice-lookin’
young lady withoot a partner I took aff my hat, an’ makin’ a how I says,
"Parley voo frongsay." Of course, BAILIE, you ken that means,
"Can you speak French?" the fact is, I learned it for the occasion
frae a Frenchman that stops no faur frae us. But seemingly the young lady
didna ken French, for she only stared at me, so I says again tae her,
"Parley voo frongsay, mem." She smiled, an’ replied, "Wee,
Mossoo."
Dod, BAILIE, I thocht she needna be sae
unpolite as tae cast up my size tae my am face, but the leddies are gettin’
vera free noo-a-days, so I pocketed my pride an’ says, "Yon exhausts
a’ my French, but if ye like we could hae a dance thegither." She
said "With pleasure, Mossoo "—ye ken "Mossoo" means "Mister"
ower in France. So we commenced the next dance, an’ got on fine, till
my sword got lowse someway, an’ got in aboot my legs, an’—
I draw a veil, BAILIE, ower the rippit
that got up. It seems tae me that I canna dae the vera simplest thing
withoot getting intae some habble. I went heids ower heels, knocking my
partner doon, as weel as ither twa couple that were near us. I needna
tell ye that I wis awfu’ ashamed, while as for my partner, she took a
fit o’ hysterics or something, an’ had toe be carried intae the refreshment
room. Indeed, that wis where I went mysel’ whenever I wis able tae walk.
But a tumble tae a heavy man at my time o’ life is nae joke, so I searched
oot Betty, an’ we got a cab an’ gaed awa’, an’ I’m tellin’ nae mair than
the truth when I say that Bonyparty going home wis a vera different man
frae Bonyparty setting oot.