Year: 1862

TRUE STORY.


The Parish of Bathgate, in Linlithgow.
shire, ought to be reckoned among the
classic spots of Scotland, inasmuch as it
formed part of the dowry which Robert
Bruce bestowed on his elder daughter,
Margery, when she carried Walter, the
High Steward of Scotland, and thus be-
came the progenetrix of the royal and un.
lucky house Of Sturt Lying midway
between Edinburgh and Glasgow, those
rival queens Of East and West Scotland,
but out of the common track Of travel and
traffic, it has been for ages pastoral par
ish Of small and rather backward farms
OF late years, coal has been found there,
and steam and trade, which bid fair to
leave the world no rustic corner, are rap
idly turning II into mining district;
which s'eAadY thought of about the time
Of the general peace, when Bathgate lived
on its own oats and barley wore its A00
holden gray, and had but two objects Of
intereSt-the corn market and the kirk
session. Among its peaceable and indus
triOuS population there Was one dane " ssse;
though neither the weathiest 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 Aefsef(-n0t on the iarm ieA
her by her goodman, who had departed
this life some seven years before the CON-
mencement Of our story, for its acres were
few. and they consisted of haIf.rcclaimed
mOOrland-nOt on her grown up son Rob
in, though he was counted likely and
sensible Iad-nor on her own thrifty
housekeeping, thO0ghit waS Known to be
on the tight-screw principle-but on the
se'A~Rasessiess 9S 2:f2Aea, silver teaspoons
ihIer.aScount OF ftIehi was that they bad
belonged to the Young Chevalicr, and
had been bestowed upon her grandfather
in return for entertaining that claimant Of
the British crown on his march from Cul.
lOden-in proof of which she was accus
toned to point out q half Obliterated crest
and the initials q. s., with which they
were marked. The widows neighbors,
however, had different tale regarding
their coming into the family. 1t was to
the effect that her grandfather, who kept
a small inn somewhere In Fife, had bought
them Of an ill-doing laird for three gallons
of Highland whisky. and had bestowed
them on his granddaughter as the one of
his family most likely to hold fast to such
an important acquisition.


In the family resided, in the capacity Of
help, one Nancy Campbell, agirl Of about
nineteen, who was suspected of having
taken fancy to Robin, who recipro ,ated
the sentiment. Nothing, however, would
soften the heart OF the widow as regarded
the match, until at length the following
event occurred and caused her to give
way:


About the hay making time, distant
and comparatively rich relation was ex.
pected to call and take tea that evening
on his way from Linlithgow shire. 1t was
not often that this superior relative hon
ored her with a VISIT and Mrs. Simpson
determined that nothing should be want
ing to his entertainment, 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 operation was be-
ing performed in the kitchen, in the midst
of one of those uncertain days which vary
the northern June, a sudden darkening
of the sky announced the approach Of a
heavy rain. The hay was dry and ready
for hOuSeing. Robert and two farm men
were busy gathering It in; but the great
drops began to fall while a considerable
portion yet remained in the field, and with
the instinct Of crop preservation, forth
rushed the widow, followed by Nancy,
leaving the spoons, half secured, on the
table In her rapid exit the girl had for
gotten to latch the door. The weasel and
the kite were the only depredators known
about the moorland farm but while they
were all occupied in the bayfield,, who
should come that way but one Geordy
Wilson.


Well, the kitchen door was open, and
Geordy stepped in. He banged the settee
with his staff, he cOughed, he hemmed, he
Saluted the cat, who sat purring on the
window scat, 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 Gcordy'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 a considerable sniff, gave the
ingredients stir with the pot-hook, and
muttered Every thin" His proceedings
with regard to the latter must remain un-
mentioned but halt an hour afterwards,
when he was safely ensconced in q farm
house mile of, the family were driven
within doors by the increasing storm ;
they found everything as it had been left
the broth Oh the fire, the cat on the win
dow seat, whiting and flannel on the table,
but not spoon was there.


Whaur's the spoons?" cried Mrs.
Simpson to the entire family, who stood
by the fire drying their wet 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 purpose; the spoons
had disappeared, and the state OF the farm
house may be imagined. The widow ran
through it like one distracted, question
ing, scOlding and searching. Robin, Nap
cy, and the farm men were dispatched in
different directions, as soon as the rain
abated, to advertise the neighborS, under
the supposition that some strolling beggar
or gypsy might have carried off the treas
ure, and would attempt to dispose Of it in
the parish. Nobody thought Of GeOrdy
Wilson; he had not been spied from the
hay field; his circuits were wide; his visits
to any house not frequent; and if he es-
chewed widow Simpsons from the day OF
her loss, it was because GeOrdy knew
that neither her temper nor her liberality
would be improved by that circumstance.
Lost the spoons were, beyond a doubt,
and the widow bade fair to loose her