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Updated: May 29, 2025
"'Cause it's been decreet i' the toon cooncil that at sax o' the clock ilka mornin' that gun's to be fired at least sae lang's my lord, the marquis, is at Portlossie Hoose. Ye see it's a royal brugh, this, an' it costs but aboot a penny, an' it's gran' like to hae a sma' cannon to fire.
Sandy lost thirty shillin's an' a cairt-load o' tatties ower the heid o' Princie; an' as for the he tortyshall kitlin', I've never heard nor seen hint nor hair o't. "Man, Bawbie, I think I'll see an' get into the Toon Cooncil some o' thae days," says Sandy to me the ither forenicht.
"Me an' some o' the rest o' the chaps have been haein' a bit o' an argeyment i' the washin'-house this nicht or twa back, an' I tell you, I can gabble awa' aboot public questions as weel's some o' them i' the Cooncil.
"Juist you speer at Bailie Thingymabob, an' you'll shune find oot whuther he thinks the Toon Cooncil or him the biggest o' the twa." "Auch, Bawbie; you're no wirth argeyin' wi'," says Sandy. "You've aye sic a desjeskit wey o' lookin' at things. What's the sense o' bletherin' aboot Bailie Thingymabob?
"I was genna say," he said, "that we maun get a hand o' a puckle men o' abeelity an' straucht-forritness, an' I have much pleasure in proposin' a vote of thanks to oor worthy freend, Mester Bowden, for comin' forrit to abolish the Toon Cooncil o' every rissim o' imposeeshin, till taxation shall vanish into oblivion, an' be a thing o' the past. Mester Bowden is a man "
"Oh, but I'll manish that, Bawbie," says he, gey snappish-like; "but still a man wi' brains in's heid canna juist be setisfeed wi' saft soap an' black lead a'thegither." "Ow weel," says I, "you wud mibby fa' in wi' a fell lot o' baith o' them, even i' the Toon Cooncil.
"Very weel," says I; "juist speer at Bailie Thingymabob himsel'. I'll swag, if you tell him he's only an echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, he'll be dealin' wi' anither tattie man gin neist mornin'. Sandy, loonikie, your exyems may do amon' your triangles an' sic like fyke-facks an' kyowows, but they're a' blethers you see brawly ony ither wey." What a raise Sandy got intil!
"I daursay you're richt," says Bandy, clawin' his heid. "Weel, the Provost shud juist keep a magic lantern handy, an' gar him bide in't. That wud keep him quiet at the meetin's." "We'll lat ye see a picture o' the whole Toon Cooncil, noo," said Sandy; an' in cam' the picture. "There's been some mair mixin' again," said Sandy, gey kankered like. "That's shurely no' the Toon Cooncil.
So I juist said in a kind o' jokey wey, "Ay, Sandy, an' hae ye seen the Ward Committee yet, laddie, aboot that Toon Cooncil bisness." As shure's ocht, he grew reed i' the face; but he got richt efter a whilie, an' he says, "We're genna be like the Skule Brod efter this, Bawbie.
"And I sincerely hope they never will," remarked Wallace; "but you have not yet told me the name of the old man." "I was comin' to him," continued Black; "but wheniver I wander to the doin's o' that black-hearted Cooncil, I'm like to lose the threed o' my discoorse. Yon is a great man i' the Kirk o' Scotland. They ca' him Donald Cargill.
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