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Updated: June 11, 2025
That brootle Fitzwarren, my ex-vally, womb I met, fimilliarly slapt me on the sholder, and said, 'Jeames, my boy, you'd best go into suvvis aginn. "I DID go into suvvis the wust of all suvvices I went into the Queen's Bench Prison, and lay there a misrabble captif for 6 mortial weeks. Misrabble shall I say? no, not misrabble altogether; there was sunlike in the dunjing of the pore prisner.
Colonel Altamont, for the intelligent reader has doubtless long ere this discovered in the stranger His Excellency the Ambassador of the Nawaub of Lucknow, reeled into the dining-room, with a triumphant look towards Jeames, the footman, which seemed to say, "There, sir, what do you think of that? Now, am I a gentleman or no?" and sank down into the first vacant chair.
That I wull no tak in han'," said Jeames Gentle. "It's no that," returned Malcolm. "It's naething freely sae hard 's that, I'm thinkin'. The hard 'ill be to believe what I'm gaein' to tell ye." "Ye'll no be gaein' to set up for a proaphet?" said Girnel, with something approaching a sneer. Girnel was the one who came down behind the rest. "Na, na naething like it," said Blue Peter.
Among other humourists, one might glance at a Jerrold, the chivalrous advocate of Toryism and Church and State; an a Beckett, with a lightsome pen, but a savage earnestness of purpose; a Jeames, whose pure style, and wit unmingled with buffoonery, was relished by a congenial public.
"Deil tak' me gin I do ony sic thing!" exclaimed Mr Cupples. "My shune'll do weel eneuch." "Whaur got ye a' that dub, sir? The roads is middlin' the day." "I dinna aye stick to the roads, Jeames. I wan intil a bog first, and syne intil some plooed lan' that was a' lumps o' clay shinin' green i' the sun. Sae it's nae wonner gin I be some clortit.
The footman deigned to exhibit astonishment. Here was a gentleman one obviously accustomed to the manners of Society who declined to accept the courteous disclaimer of an unexpected visit. "Miss Talbot is not receiving visitors," he explained. "Exactly. Take that card and the letter to Miss Talbot and bring me the answer." Jeames was no match for his antagonist.
Plush will do her justice. * The letter-box of Mr. Punch, in whose columns these papers were first published. "Come all ye gents vot cleans the plate, Come all ye ladies maids so fair Vile I a story vill relate Of cruel Jeames of Buckley Square. A tighter lad, it is confest, Neer valked with powder in his air, Or vore a nosegay in his breast, Than andsum Jeames of Buckley Square.
Jeames and I maun jist turn and gae hame again. There's a hantle to look efter yet, and we maunna neglec' oor wark. The hoose-gear's a' to be roupit the morn." Then turning to Annie, she said: "Noo, Annie, lass, ye'll be a guid bairn, and do as ye're tell't. An' min' and no pyke the things i' the chop." A smile of peculiar import glimmered over Bruce's face at the sound of this injunction.
"Tibbie Dyster!" sobbed Truffey in reply. "Here's Jeames Johnstone!" said Thomas; "he'll tell's a' aboot it." He surmised the facts, but waited in painful expectation of assurance from the deacon, who came slipping and sliding along the wet ridges. "What's this?" he cried fiercely, as James came within hearing. "What is't?" returned the weaver eagerly.
I lea' them to the doctors an' the ministers," replied Jeames, with another wide, silent laugh. By this time he had got a pair of scales carefully adjusted, a small tin vessel in one of them, and balancing weights in the other.
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