"
Scott laughed heartily when this anecdote was told of him. "It was with
him and Tom," he said, "as it was with an old laird and a pet servant,
whom he had indulged until he was positive beyond all endurance." "This
won't do!" cried the old laird, in a passion, "we can't live together
any longer--we must part." "An' where the deil does your honor mean to
go?" replied the other.
I would, moreover, observe of Tom Purdie, that he was a firm believer
in ghosts, and warlocks, and all kinds of old wives' fable. He was a
religious man, too, mingling a little degree of Scottish pride in his
devotion; for though his salary was but twenty pounds a year, he had
managed to afford seven pounds for a family Bible. It is true, he had
one hundred pounds clear of the world, and was looked up to by his
comrades as a man of property.
In the course of our morning's walk, we stopped at a small house
belonging to one of the laborers on the estate. The object of Scott's
visit was to inspect a relic which had been digged up in a Roman camp,
and which, if I recollect right, he pronounced to have been a tongs. It
was produced by the cottager's wife, a ruddy, healthy-looking dame,
whom Scott addressed by the name of Ailie.
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