# Henry Blyth's contract

HENRY BLYTH'S
CONTRACT.
CONTAINING
EDINBURGH: Printed and Sold by J. Morren, East Campbell's Close, Cowgate.
——— 1800.
HENRY BLYTH's Contract.
WELL, Maistris, fan I'm come out o' Dundee, I coud get nathing to gi' the horse draff in, at the skull: your women ay tak's his trough to keep sand in for scouring their fushicads i' the bink; well I wat he's a good beast, God bless him, that I dinna' forspeak him, and is as well forquainted wi' me, as if I had been seven year's in's company. In troth, Maistris, folk has ay need to deflect fat they are doing; for the day as I'm comin alangs the cassaway o' Dundee, the laird's brother, that cam here, cry'd me up and ga' me a bicker, and comin out I fell down the stair, an' maist brook my neck, bat be a providence I saved the barm. And you ken maistris, fan I'm ridin down by the Pow upo' Maistris Fushicad, she an I crakin together, an I no mindin fat she's sayin, tines my pisle, and gaes foret till I'm about a mile an a bittokie fra't; an minds, says I, good faith maistris, I've tint my pisle, and maun gae back for't again. Hout you're a fool cushie, let it gang there, it was nae meikle worth. Was nae meikle worth, cothie, faul maistris, it was as good a pisle as e'er was in a poor beast, an I wadnae geed for my halyears fee yet, sae I gaed my wa's back, and gat it just far I fand it.
Now maistris, as you was sayin, I'll gi' you a prescriptification o' my life. First, fan I cam to the warld, as soon's I grew a body, my father was dissolved to set me to the school to learn to dispel, and a chapman coming by, he bought me the Chief End of Man, and a Prognostication; but I bein contravenable ran awa' and ged to the wast-mill, an helped the millar: for he greed with the auld lady to uphad a' the gaun gear and she furnish'd him wi' a woman, an gat the o'ercome to hersell: sae this way I misglekit a' my learniment. Well, fan I was but a haflang lad, I began to think how I shou'd come thro' ​the warld, an ye ken the best way was to disjoin myself to a half-marrow, after the orderly custom o' the land, fan lads and lasses bein desolv'd to marry, cothie; Lord grant prosperity, generation, mortification an divulsion to a' them that gangs that gate, cothie. Now always maistris, I'll tell you the thing I'm gaun to tell you. The lass's sister that married Fushicam's guidfather, that dwalls down o' the laird o' Thing's land, began to look at me an I to her, an after they scorned us together, her uncle a very disponsable woman, bids me meet her at the kirk-yard o' fushicad upo' Sunday. Well afar aff as I cam near hand, I thought it was a market, and putting my hand i' fushicad for something to the custom-wife, I mindet it was Sunday, and that there was nae ocasen, but men an' women a' thro' ither: Well, I comes in by an sits down by the tent-side amo' them, an puts my bonnet as the rest did; sae by that time the lass that shou'd ha' been mine, cam in by, an' as she was sittin down, I'll ne'er forget it, ane o' the men wi' the black cloket necks contrarified out o' the beuk, That if a man was ordain'd for a thing he wadne get win byt'. Well, that ga' me som hartin fae wi' took a chappin o' ale at tent-side, an cry'd in by upo' John Fushicad that was pishin at the east-gavel, (his brother's sister's married to my Lord Kinghorn's henwife, I believe his name's Lyon,) an' ga' him a part o't. Then says I, cothie, sin there's but a defusion here, we'll sit an tak out our drink, an' confer the greement till we meet at the bridal that's to be upo' Tysday, cothie, sae here's e'en to you lass; I thank you lad, a twell its onforsaid o' me, sae an you binna as unwilling to tak me, cothie, as I'm to tak you, let's e'en mak an end o't on Tysday, cothie; conformably we forgathers in the afternoon, fan lads has gotten in their stuff, an begin to grow ramage wi' the soup drink; we devinced upon the matter; an consponded to be contrived. Well, I was to gi' up ​our names to the kirk-sessions, an pay site-siller to the box to keep from getting on upo' the stool of repentance for a twalmonth to com: an fornens, that I was to get threty marks wi' her an a mare, an a' my fees were to be laid to that, if I dyd first, a' my things were to be hers, an if she dyd neest, a' my things were to be mine; the bairns were to be divided amon' the first end o the gear: the lads were to be older than a’ the lasses, bat the lasses war to com in before the lads in the tastification as John Fallow laid it down upo' write.
Well, twa three days afterhend, she coms to me, upo' a day fan I'm at the plough, an says Henry, coshie, ye ken fat we did at the kirk-yard an the bridal, you're a gay conspectable wark lad, an I hae been tried in barns an byrs, an can put my hand to a thing, cushie, as well's my neibers. An sae I convolv'd, that fin' it was the way that other folk did, an' her kist was well made up wi' affaens, I just arrests her to meet me at Forgan the morn: sae I ged my wa' hame, musted my head, an made ready a clean o'erlay, my purlt handit fark, a staff an a blue bannet o' my head, an rises as soon as the cock gat upo' the kitchen, an cam on the king's highway to Forgan, an be the sun was haf an ell frae the lift I was at the Orchard, an sam meets I but just my lord i' the teeth. Ho' good day Henry, cothie, fat is your will, my lord, cothie. Ha' you got a wife, yet Henry cothie? De'il ane hae you gotten yoursel yet, my lord, cothie. Fat makes you so soon up, cothie? I've been takin in some meal Henry cothie. Indeed my lord cothie, an you wad lift up that house to your ducat it wad cost you less travel. How wad you do that Henry cothie? My lord, cothie, gar John Fushicad your officer raise the ground, an send in filler for tows to the balies o' Dundee, an shoot them in beneath the foundation, an cut trees to let it o'er the brig, we'll carry it up in a forenoon, an make it twa cupple higher, ​an strike thro' a throu-art, an it were but to see a sick beast. He gat up wi' a gaff o' laughter, an says, well control'd Henry cothie, I'll gie you three dollars to grieve the wark. My lord cothie, I'll seek naething bat the cloth Elspit Fusihicad your honour's widow's tenant's wife rests me, but the warld's making a tournament upo' her, an the corn no casting up good years, you've meddl'd wi' a' her gear, ilka hilt an hair o't, cothie, sae it contains your honour to gi' me disatisfiction: well Henry cothie, there's my hand and a sixpence that I'll see you wrang'd. Weel God detain and disolve your honour, cothie: sae I recover'd my bannet an disaluted him, an coms to the house far the neibers was sitting i' the fire, provincing an perverting the defairs o' the kintry, an fan they saw me O welcome Henry, here to your health an luck to the bargain. Drink, it's welcome, cothie, in good faith I wish't a well, I wat I thank you in conscience, I wish we ne'er want war, let never sorrow gang so near your heart.
Well maistris is, I think she's a gay lassie, an she binna a war man nor her father, I'll be right well set upo' her; well I wat she taks it well a kind, for her mother was as able a barn man as e'er held wind to the corn. The house I was to tak ran just down by the water-side, it was a gay neat misdeamable house, wi' a butt an a ben, an a fire side, an a close that wad hadden a swine, the fire stood just i' the mids o' the floor, an the sun came in at the wast windock fan the lads got their dorder meat, with a disportional yard that wad hae sawn six firlots o' bear. Just as we're previncing an disclosing up by comes Fushicam that dwalls down at the Brigend, an sais, This man maun pay for his house an yard twenty marks, cothie. Saul, stir chamberlain, cothie, an you winna tak twenty pund, keep them to yoursell cothie. Well Henry, cothie, lick my thing, an lay it to yours, aw sin it is sae, that it maun be nae ither way, than ​it sude be, an if you'r defiable, let's put black upo' site upon't. He taks out a lang thing that fok use to do fan they gae about the way o' things, an scraps upo' paper a' the dissolvements an tenements o' the takins, an bade me pit to my name; stir, cothie I'm nae beuk'd earn'd. Well then cothie, pit to your hand to my fushicad before witnesses, an I'll descrive for you.
The lass seein a' this, says, a' the fint a bit I'll tak him, cushie, for he's a fool. I bein magvocat an correminous wi' the soup drink, an always bein tiralent, cothie, saul cummer, cothie, conscience cothie, gif I were as magstragvagant an glaustrous as other lads, I shou'd ken whether you're a man or a lad, an mak you never to work a turn after this deficient day, gae your gates in a vengeableness, cothie. Sae maistris there is nae great fkaith, for my master gart her pay the haf of the lawin, an said, sin you winna intend the marriage, he shana' be the cost, for fat ever has been betwin you you've ay as mickle o' him as he has o' you. But she cudna thrive, for she gat the young laird wi' bairn, and died i' the bearing o't. For women maistris, are fair thing'd whiles fan they tak it on; for your own woman dissabus'd me the last year because I wadna claw the cow, to gar her milk come down, and keep her frae flingin, they ca'd me frae heaven to hell about it; I was i' the mean time delvin out the ministers butt, an brok my wark loom; an ga'n to seek a lean o' the beadle's, they ran in before me, an gar'd his wife cry, com in by Henry an get the fashion of the house. Sae I ged in by, an thinkin she was ga'n to gi' me cheese an bread, or some thing that wadna speak to me; but she gae me sic a hurl I ne'er gat the like o't, sin the day that Andrew Fushicam's daughter, a bangster quean, met me i' the dyke an jamf'd me, because me an my master John Galons coost divots upo' Sunday thro' ignorance. I cou'd nae displunge a sport as folk will do i' their daffin, but flang her down an misgrugl'd a' her apron ​by meir racklisness: she was sae angry that she ruggit-out a' my fushicad, an made me bald, that I hae never been like other folk till this deficient day. Sae, maistris, I never drew up wi' anither, till I was sent to my lord Fushicad's house wi' apples, beyond Aberdeen, for the bred water is, that you winna see a hill on the tither side o't; sae, as I'm in my lord's house, ben coms our Lady Anne, a bonny lassie wi' a black fushicad on her head, an her face fu' o' black splaches, an says, Henry cushie, there’s a groat to ye, an kiss that lass at the wheel; as I was strivin, we tumbl'd down between a kist an the wa', an gat nae skouth to win out for twa hours, but gin we had been as lang the gither, I shou'd a gotten a kiss whether she wad or no, for I never left her till I gart her cry; an if she had staid there till now, nae misdoubts I mught hae married her.
Now maistris, I'm your man an the minister's, an if he consist frae pitting me awa, I winna bide, for I cou'd live wi' you a' my days, he speaks sae mony good words. He obstructed me the last day that I wad rise again; an I said, cothie, stir I'se believe as other 'onest fo'ks do; an indeed, stir, cothie, the beuk o' Poggary, said just as you say, an the o'erturn o't was ay three things, for it tell'd, that though ane lay down in the gutter, an prayed to God to tak him out o' the gutter, yet an he made nae maughts o' himself, he would lie till he died, an God wad raise him up for a' that. If I were good o' the members, maistris, I might ha' learn'd a' my questions out o' that beuk, for there was a' things in that beuk, an the o'er turning o't was ay three things; there was cats an pipers in't, an ships an swine, an horn'd beasts on women, an mony things, but I'm a mind to learn yet; for though we be alder the day than we'll be the morn, fo'ks are only detacked about my age, just like Mr Francis Fushicad, that same day the beadle's ⟨wife an I laid upo' ither about clawin the cow; an⟩ ​you ken maistris, you sent me to the officer's wife to harrow her wheat i' the Diverlane a' afternoon; sae as I was tellin you, by com's his honour ridin on a hawk, an a horse on's arm, an thinkin I was as auld as the officer's wife, says good day, honest man, can you set me upo' a mauken hereabout, the de'il a bit; o' me is an honest man, cothie, an please your honour cothie, I'm but the minister's lad, an I'm laborin this honest woman's butt, her guidman's sae trachled wi' my lord's wark, that we maun pit him alike wi's neighbours. Indeed, lad cothie, the gentels taks a hantle uphaddin. Ay ay, stir, cothie, bat an gentle fo'ks was semple fo'ks, an semple fo'ks was gentle fo'ks, semple fo'k wad be like gentle fo'k, an gentle fo'k wad be like semple folk, wi' that up gat a flock o' Fushicads, and he geds wa's at the gallop.
I'll no contain you any longer, maistris, for I'm a mind to confer a wife gin the warld dinna mend, for we canna get naething but fat we buy, an de'il hed wi' hae to buy it wi'. I had ains a idle life fan I was a malitious man, an shot our guns at the moon to learn us to had aff the whigs at, Bothwell brig; we had nae wark than bat to lay down our things on the ground, an com back and fore; yet gin ony mist to tak his neighbour's thing instead o' his ain, he gat o'er the crown.
Well maistris, this be your leave, an I wiss as well, an very wife fo'k says. That be a'st likes, an it bina the tae way it will be the tither; an that we'll hae king or queen, or some other thing, or else naething at a', an then fo'ks canna readily be out o' condition.
Now honest lad, poor Herdry's dead, And a' his neighbour's got cheese and bread, Then some did groan and shake their head, When this they saw, But when they gat so large a feed, Chac'd grief awa'.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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