[The Life of Mansie Wauch by David Macbeth Moir]@TWC D-Link book
The Life of Mansie Wauch

CHAPTER XVI
8/9

So we helped him out of the bed, and blithe was I to see the lad standing on the floor, without a hold, on his own feet.
I did my best to clean his neckcloth and shirt of the blood, making him look as decentish as possible, considering circumstances; and lending him, as the scripture commands, my tartan mantle to hide the infirmity of his bloody trowsers and waistcoat.

Home went he and his master together; me standing at our close mouth, wishing them a good-morning, and blithe to see their backs.

Indeed, a condemned thief with the rope about his neck, and the white cowl tied over his eyes, to say nothing of his hands yerked together behind his back, and on the nick of being thrown over, could not have been more thankful for a reprieve than I was, at the same blessed moment.

It was like Adam seeing the deil's rear marching out of Paradise, if one may be allowed to think such a thing.
The whole business, tag-rag and bob-tail, soon, however, spunked out, and was the town talk for more than one day--But you'll hear.
At the first I pitied the poor lads, that I thought had fled for ever and aye from their native country, to Bengal, Seringapatam, Copenhagen, Botany Bay, or Jamaica, leaving behind them all their friends and old Scotland, as they might never hear of the goodness of Providence in their behalf.

But wait a wee.
Would you believe it?
As sure's death, the whole was but a wicked trick played by that mischievous loon Blister and his cronies, upon one that was a simple and soft-headed callant.


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