# Watty and May, or, The Wife Reclaimed/The West Kintra Weaver Turned Teetotaler

THE WEST KINTRA WEAVER TURNED TEETOTALER.
[This celebrated Scottish story used to be told by the late John Drummond, with tremendous applause.]
It's as fack as death, I'm maist burning wi' shame to baud up my head before sic a respectable company, particularly as my character, drawn in gey black colours, has been here before me; but as ye hae heard the first o't, and I hope the warst o't, I trust that ye'll pay attention to what remains o' my history, and ye'll be better able to judge o' the story through and through. Weel, fock, I'm the Kilbarchan weaver, Sawnie Perkar's uncle, that got himsel fu' about a twalmounth syne, kickit up a rippet wi' the landlady, and twa or three mae that pretended to be my friends, but sat on my coat tail a' that day; but what I'm maist anxious to inform you is this—-I learned a lesson that I'll no soon forget, and the happy result has been, that frae that day to this, spirits o' ony kind hasna crossed my craig; and I'm proud to say't, that Janet Galbraith, my law'fu' married wife, has a' the credit o' the happy change. I own that I was foolish, very foolish; and I daursay I micht hae remained foolish tae this very day had it no been for the kind, and soothing, the winning gaet o' my ain wife Jennet, wha addressed me in the following good natured strain:—Robin, quo' she, Robin, mony an advice I hae gean ye, man, but your sair head and your loom pouch this morning shows plainly that I hae laboured in vain! Noo, I would gie my advice, if ye wad but tak it man—it's done thousands guid that hae waded a heap deeper in the ditch than ever ye did. My simple request is this, Robin, that ye'll summon up a' your resolution, and join the Teetotalers! Aweel, fock, I was at the time labouring under an awfu' remorse o' conscience—a state o' mind weel named the horrors:— when Jennet's words fell on my lugs, and re-echoed the qualms o' the faithfu' monitor within. I saidna muckle at the time, but I assure ye I thocht hard; and I there and then determined, that as soon as the shaking o' my hand wad permit me, to scart down my name, down it ​wad gang, and then if it should rain whisky, I wad put my umbrella to keep it aff me! Weel I gaed awa about it at e'en and found out the secretary o' the society, and I scarted down my name in round write, coorse enough to be seen on baith sides, and hurried hame to tell the wife, Jennet; and on hearing the news, she maist lap back height wi' joy; and noo the Saturday nichts are the happy reverse o' what they were in former days, for instead o' gaun hame the waur o' the base liquor, whisky, I can gang hame wi' my siller jingling in my pouch, wi' my waft in the tae hand, and a sheep's head in the tither, and the trotters sticking oot o' every coat and waistcoat pouch like young kangaroos, and my head stuffed fu' o temperance news, and my bonnet wi' as mony tracts on the same subject, as, if spread out, wad mak' a guid Reformer's flag. Time wad fail me fock, to tell ye a' the benefits o' the new system; but I was just anxious to appear amang ye for the double purpose o' redeeming my character, and recommending that cause to ithers that has been sic a wonderfu' blessing to mysel'.