The weekly Ottumwa courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1857-1872, 1861-03-27
Widow simpsons spoons.
A STORY THAT HAS THE MERIT OF BEING TRUE.

A STORY THAT HAS THE MERIT OF BEING TRUE
The parish of Bathgate, in Linlithgowshire
ought to be reckoned among the classicspot;
of Scotland, inasmuch as it formed part o
the dowry which Robert Bruce bestowed or
his elder, daughter, Margery, when she mar.
ried Walter, the High Steward of Scotland
and thus became the progenetrix fthe royal
and lnlucky house of Stuart. Lying mid
way between Edinburgh and Glasgow, those
rival queens of East and West, but out o.
the common track Of traffic and travel, i. has
been for ages pastoral parish of small and
rather backward farms. Oflate years coaI
has been found there, an l steam and trade,
which bid fair to leave the world no rustic
corner, are rapidly turning it into mining
district, which no one thought of about the
time of the general peace, when Rathgate
lived on its own oats and harley, wore its
own holden gray, and had but two subjects
of interest-the corn market and the kirk
session. Among its peaceable and industri-
Gus population there was one dame who,
though neither the weal,hiest nor the best
born, stood, in her own esteem, above all
but the laird and the minister and her style
and title was Widow Simpson. This lady
valued herself-not on the farm left by her
goodman, who had departed this life some
seven years before the commencement of our
story, for its acres were few, and they con-
sisted Of half reclaimed moorland-not on
her grown-up son Robin, though he was
counted likely and sensible lad-nor on
her own thrifty housekeeping, though it was
known to be on the tight-screw principle
but on the possession Of dozen silver tea
spoons. Her account of them was that they
had belonged to the Young Chevalier, and
had been bestowed uTon her grandfather in
return for entertaining that claimant to the
British crown on his march from Culloden-
in proof of which she was accustomed to
point out a halfobliterated crtst and the ini-
tials G. S., with which they were marked
The widows neighbors, however, had a DIFF
ferent tale regarding their coming into the
family. twas to the effect that ler grand
father, who kept small inn somewhere in
Fife, had bought them of an ill-doing laird
for three gallons of Highland whisky, and
bestowed them on his granddaughter as the
me of his family most likely to ho.d fast to
such an important acquisition.
In the fan lily rssiled, in the capacity of
help, one Nancy Campbell, girl of about
who was suspected of having taken
a fancy to Robin, who reciprocated the sen.
timent. Nothing, however, could soften
s'.s-'s 'so-,s-o siso "'aou reSaras nIarUn
until at length the following event occurred
and caused her 10 give way: fp
About the hay-making time distant and
rich relation was expected to
call and take tea that evening on his way
from Linlithgowshire. 1t was not often
thas this superior relative honored her home
with visit, and Mrs. Simpson determined
that nothing should be wanting to his enter.
tainment brought out the treasured spoons
early in the afternoon, with many injunctions
to Nancy touching the care she should take
in frightening them up. While this opera
ton was being performed in the kitchen, in
the midst Of one Of those uncertain days
which vary the northern June, sudden
Of the sky announced the ap-
proach ofa heavy rain The hay was dry and
ready for houscing. Robin and two farm.
men were busy gathering it in; but the
great drops began to fall while considerable
portion yet remained in the field, and with
the instinct of crop preservation, forth rush
ed the widow, followed by Nancy, leaving
the spoons BALI secured on the kitchen table
In her rapid exit the girl had forgotten TO
latch the door. The weasel and the kite
were the only depredators known about the
moorland farm but while they were all oc.
cupied in the bayfield,, who should come
that way but Geordy Wilson.
Well, the kitchen-door was open, and
Geordy stepped in. He banged the settee
with his staff, he coughcd, he hemmed, he
saluted the cat, who sat purring on the win
dowsll, and at length discovered there was
no one within. Neither meal nor penny
was to be expected that day, the rain was
growing heavier. some Of the hay must be
wet, and Mrs Simpson would return in bad
humor. But two objects powerfully arrested
Geordy's attention ; one was the broth pot
boiling on the fire, and the other the silver
spoons scattered on the table, Bending over
the former, Geordy took considerable sniff,
gave the ingredients stir with the pot hook
and muttered .'very thin.' His proceeding
with regard to the latter must remain un-
mentioned; but half an hour afterwards,
when he was safely ensconced in farm
house mile of, the family were driven
within doors by the increasing storm they
found everything as it had been left-the
broth on the FIRE, the cat on the window seat,
whiting and funnel on the table, but not a
spoon was there.
"Whuar's the spoons ?" cried Mrs. Simp
son to the entire family, who stood by the
fire drying their vet garments. Nobody
could tell. Nancy had left them on the table
when she ran to the hay. No one had been
in the house, they were certain, for nothing
was disturbed. The drawer was pulled out,
and the stocking exhibited. Every Shelf
every corner was searched, but to no pur.
pose !; the spoons had disappeared, and the