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There is some account of him in Chambers's Traditions of Edinburgh, ed. 1825, ii. 173, and in Dr. A. Carlyle's Auto. p. 136. Ruddiman. In 1792 Gardenston, in his Miscellanies, p. 257, attacked Ruddiman. 'It has of late become fashionable, he wrote, 'to speak of Ruddiman in terms of the highest respect. The monument was never raised. A Letter to the Inhabitants of Laurence Kirk, by F. Garden.
All I stipulate is that you do not communicate them to the SCOTS MAGAZINE; for though you used, in a left-handed way, to compliment me on my attainments in the lighter branches of literature, at the expense of my deficiency in the weightier matters of the law, I am not yet audacious enough to enter the portal which the learned Ruddiman so kindly opened for the acolytes of the Muses.
By ten o'clock the house was closed, and all through the night no sound disturbed the peace of the Pig and Whistle. The morrow passed without news of Mr. Fouracres. On the morning after, just as Mr. Ruddiman was finishing his breakfast, alone in the parlour, he heard a loud cry of distress from the front part of the inn.
For the rest of the day they saw very little of each other. Mr. Ruddiman rambled musing. When he came at the usual hour to supper, guests were occupying the hostess. Having eaten, he went out to smoke his pipe in the garden, and lingered there it being a fine, warm night till after ten o'clock. Miss Fouracres' voice aroused him from a fit of abstraction. 'I've just locked up, sir. 'Ah! Yes.
Fouracres. The landlord, a man of sixty, with grizzled hair and large, heavy countenance, sat in a rustic chair under an apple-tree; beside him was a little table, on which stood a bottle of whisky and a glass. Approaching, Mr. Ruddiman saw reason to suspect that the landlord had partaken too freely of the refreshment ready to his hand. Mr.
Do you think Had it not been dark Mr. Ruddiman would hardly have ventured to make the suggestion which fell from him in a whisper. Had it not been dark Miss Fouracres would assuredly have hesitated much longer before giving her definite reply.
Ruddiman spoke his name, and tried to attract his attention; finding it useless he went back into the inn. 'I'm afraid I shall have to put it off to another day, was his remark to the landlord's daughter. 'Mr. Four-acres is rather drowsy. 'Ah, sir! sighed the young woman. 'I'm sorry to say he's often been like that lately. Their eyes met, but only for an instant. Mr.
Fouracres was buried, and, on the day after the funeral, his sister returned to London. She showed no interest whatever in her niece, who, equally independent, asked neither counsel nor help. Mr. Ruddiman and his hostess were alone together at the Pig and Whistle. The situation had a certain awkwardness.
But as this remark may easily convey a false impression, it must be added that Miss Fouracres was a very discreet, well-spoken, deliberate person, of at least two-and-thirty. Mr. Ruddiman had known her for more than a year before anything save brief civilities passed between them.
He had pleasure in every detail of the inn life. To-day he several times waited upon passing guests, and laughed exultantly at the perfection he was attaining. Miss Fouracres seemed hardly less pleased, but when alone she still wore an anxious look, and occasionally heaved a sigh of trouble. Mr. Ruddiman, as usual, took an early supper, and soon after went up to his room.
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