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Updated: May 26, 2025
Pete's bunk was under the binnacle, and the light of its lamp fell on a stamped envelope which he took out of his breast-pocket from time to time that he might read the inscription. It ran Capn Peatr Quilliam, Lm Cottig Ramsey I O Man. He looked at it lovingly, fondly, yearningly, yet with a certain awe, too, as if it were the casket of some hidden treasure, and he hardly knew what it contained.
In the days when that punctilious worthy set himself to observe the doings of his elder brother at Ballure, he found it convenient to make an outwork of the hedge in front of the thatched house that stood nearest. Two persons lived in the cottage, father and daughter Tom Quilliam, usually called Black Tom, and Bridget Quilliam, getting the name of Bridget Black Tom.
"Coorse I will," said the barber, sweeping a hand of velvet over one cheek of the postman, who was in the chair, leaving the other cheek in lather while he took up the pen. "Mistress Peter Quilliam, care of Master Joseph Quilliam, Esquire, Scotland Road, Liverpool" dictated Pete. "What number, Capt'n?" said Jonaique. "Number?" said Pete, perplexed. "Bless me, what's this the number is now?
Wedding to-morrow fortnight at Kirk Christ, Lezayre, eleven o'clock forenoon, and the Lord make it profitable to my soul. With love and-reverence, thy servant, and I trust the Lord's, Peter Quilliam." Having written this, Cæsar read it aloud with proper elevation of pitch. Grannie wiped her eyes, and Pete said, "Indited beautiful, sir only you haven't asked him."
When Pete came up to the quay in the raw sunshine of early morning, John the Clerk, mounted on a barrel, was selling by auction the night's take of the boats. "I've news for you, Mr. Quilliam," he cried, as Pete's boat, with half sail set, dropped down the harbour.
"I'll be going along with you, Mr. Quilliam," said Jonaique. "And I," said John the Clerk. "And I" "And I," said the others, and in half a minute the room was empty. "Father," whimpered Grannie, through the glass partition, "hadn't you better saddle the mare and see if any thing's going wrong with Kirry?" "I was thinking the same myself, mother." "Come, then, away with you.
"Middling fair ewer, good quarter, five calves is it five, Cæsar?" said Black Tom, holding one of the long horns. "Three, sir, and calving again for February." "No milk fever? No? Kicks a bit at milking? Never? Fits? Ever had fits, Cæsar?" opening wide one of the cow's eyes. "Have you known me these years for a dacent man, Mr. Quilliam " began Cæsar in an injured tone. "Well, what's the figure?"
Her throat gurgled; she faltered, but she spoke at length in the toneless voice of one who speaks in sleep. "'I, Katherine Cregeen " "'Take thee, Peter Quilliam " The toneless voice broke "take thee, Peter Quilliam " And then all came in a rush, with some of the words distinctly repeated, and some of them droned and dropped " 'to my wedded husband, to have and to hold "
The next time Katherine Cregeen saw Peter Quilliam, he was sitting on the ridge of rock at the mouth of Ballure Glen, playing doleful strains on a home-made whistle, and looking the picture of desolation and despair. His mother was lying near to death. He had left Mrs.
It'll be Sunday every day of the week with the man that's getting the lavings." "Take a taste of this beef before it goes, Mr. Thomas Quilliam, or do you prefer the mutton?" "I'm not partic'lar, Mr. Cregeen. Ateing's nothing to me but filling a sack that's empty."
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