# Tales for the Farmers' Ingle-neuk (1826, Dunfermline)/The Broken Bridge

This tale is an extract from Chapter 6 of The Cottagers of Glenburnie
THE BROKEN BRIDGE,
Or, hints for keeping Good Roads.
While Mrs Mason was enjoying the kind hospitality of Gowan-brae, in order to gratify the boys, it was proposed, that the whole family should accompany her to Glenburnie, on an Irish car, a vehicle well adapted to such excursion, and which was consequently a great favourite with the younger part of the family. Just as they finished an early dinner, the car was brought to the door. Robert, the eldest boy begged leave to drive, and, vaulting into his proper station, seized the reins; and, after two gentle strokes with the whip, prevailed on old grey to move forward, which he did very sagaciously, with less speed than caution, until they reached the turnpike road, where he mended his pace into a sober trot, which in less than two hours brought them to the road that turns in to the Glen, or valley of Glenburnie.
The road, which winded along the foot of the hills on the north side of the Glen, owed as little to art as any country road in the kingdom. It was very narrow, and much encumbered by loose stones, brought down from the hills above by the winter torrents. "How little trouble would it cost," said Mr Stewart, "to throw the ​smaller of these loose stones into these holes and ruts; and to remove the larger ones to the side, where they would form a fence between the road and the hill! There are enough of idle boys in the Glen to effect all this, by working at it for one hour aweek during the summer. But then their fathers must unite in setting thew to work; and there is not one in the Glen who would not sooner have his horses lamed, and his carts torn to pieces, than have his son employed in a work that would benefit his neighbours as much as himself!"
At the foot of a short precipice, the road again made a sudden turn, and discovered to them a misfortune which threatened to put a stop to their proceeding any further, for the present evening. It was no other than the overturn of a cart of hay, occasioned by the breaking down of a bridge, along which it had been passing.
At first indeed, neither boy nor horse were seen; but as Mr Stewart advanced to examine whether, by removing the hay, which partly covered the bridge, and partly hung suspended on the bushes, the road might still be passable, he heard a child's voice in the hollow, exclaiming, "Come on, ye muckle brute! ye had as weel come on! I'll gar ye! I'll gar ye! That's a gude beast now; come awa! That's it! Ay, ye're a gude beast now."
​As the last words were uttered, a little fellow, of about ten years of age, was seen issuing from a hollow, and pulling after him, with all his might, a great long-backed clumsy animal of the horse species, though apparently of a very mulish temper.
"You have met with a sad accident." said Mr Stewart; "how did all this happen?"
"You may see how it happened plain enough." returned the boy 'the brig brak, and the cart couppet.
"And did you and the horse coup likewise?" said Mr Stewart.
O ay, tee a' couppet thegether, for I was ridin' on his back."
"And where is your father, and all the rest of the folk?"
"Whar sud they be but in the hay-field! Dinna ye ken that we're takin' in our hay? John Tamson's and Jamie Forster's was in a wook syne; but we're aye ahint the lave."
Having learned from the boy that the hay field was at no great distance, gave him some half pence to hasten his speed, and promised to take care of his horse till he should return with assistance.
He soon appeared, followed by his father and two other men, who came on stepping at their usual pace, "Why, farmer." said Mr Stewart, "you have trusted rather ​too long to this rotten plank, I think," (pointing to where it had given way); "If you remember, the last time I passed this road, which was several months since, I then told you that the bridge was in danger, and shewed you how easily it might be repaired?"
"It is a' true," said the farmer, moving his bonnet; "but I thought it would do weel enough. I spoke to Jamie Forster and John Tamson about it; but they said they wadna fash to mend a brig that was to serve a' the folk in the Glen."
"But you must now mend it for your own sake," said Mr Stewart, "even though a' the folk in the Glen should be the better for it.
"Ay, Sir," said one of the men, "that's spoken like yoursel'! would everybody follow your example, there would be nothing in the world but peace and good neighbourhood. Only tell us what we are to do, and I'll work at your bidding, till it be pit mirk."
"Well," said Mr Stewart, "bring down the planks that I saw lying in the barn-yard, and which, though you have been obliged to step over them every day since the stack they propped was taken in, have never been lifted. You know what I mean?"
"O yes, Sir," said the farmer, grinning, "we ken what ye mean weel eneugh: and indeed I may ken, for I have fallen thrice owre them since they lay there, and often said they sud be set by; but we cu'dna be fash'd."
While the farmer, with one of the men, went up, taking the horse with them, for the planks in question, all that remained set to work, under Mr Stewart's ​direction, to remove the hay, and clear, away the rubbish; Mrs Mason and Mary being the only idle spectators of the scene. In little more than half an hour the planks were laid, and covered with sod, cut from the bank, and the bridge now only wanted little gravel, to make it as good as new. This addition, however, was not essential toward rendering it passable for the car, which was conveyed over in safety; but Mr Stewart, forseeing the consequences of it remaining in this unfinished state, urged the farmer to complete the job on the present evening, and at the same time promised to reimburse him for the expence. The only answer he could obtain was, "Ay, ay, we'll do't in time; but I'se warrant it'll do weel enough."