In 1810 Mr Boswell published a small volume under the title, "Edinburgh, or the Ancient Royalty, a Sketch of former Manners, by Simon Gray." It is a kind of city eclogue, in which a farmer, who knew the town in a past age, is supposed to converse regarding its modern changes, with a city friend. It contains some highly curious memorials of the simple manners which obtained in Edinburgh, before the change described in the song just quoted. At a subsequent period, Mr Boswell established a private printing-press at Auchinleck, from which he issued various trifles in prose and verse, some of which are characterised by much humour. In 1816, appeared a poetical tale, somewhat like Burns's "Tam o' Shanter," entitled, "Skeldon Haughs, or the Sow is Flitted!" being founded on a traditionary story regarding an Ayrshire feud of the fifteenth century.[1] In 1821, Mr Boswell was honoured with, what had been the chief object of his ambition for many years, a baronetcy of Great Britain. About this period, politics ran very high in the country, and Sir Alexander, who had inherited all the Tory spirit of his father, sided warmly with the ministry. In
- ↑ Kennedy of Bargeny tethered a sow on the lands of his feudal enemy Crawford of Kerse, and resolved that the latter gentleman, with all his vassals, should not be permitted to remove or "flit" the animal. To defeat this bravado at the very first, the adherents of Crawford assembled in great force, and entered into active fight with the Kennedies, who, with their sow, were at length driven back with great slaughter, though not till the son of the laird of Kerse, who had led his father's forces, was slain. The point of the poem lies in the dialogue which passed between the old laird and a messenger who came to apprise him of the event:—
"'Is the sow flittit? tell me, loon!
Is auld Kyle up and Carrick down?'
Mingled wi' sobs, his broken tale
The youth began; Ah, Kerse, bewail
This luckless day!--Your blythe son, John,
Ah, waes my heart, lies on the loan—
And he could sing like only merle!
'Is the sow flitted?' cried the carle;
'Gie me my answer short and plain,—
Is the sow flitted, yammerin wean!'
'The sow (deil tak her)'s ower the water—
And at their backs the Crawfords batter—
The Carrick couts are cowed and bitted!'
'My thumb for Jock! the sow is flitted.'"
manner?, rather than time, have produced upon the external and internal economy of the Scottish capital:
Hech! what a change hae we now in this town!
A' now are braw lads, the lasses a' glancin";
Folk maun be dizzy gaun aye in this roun',
For deil a hae't 's done now but feastin' and dancin'.
Gowd's no that scanty in ilk siller pock,
Whan ilka bit laddie maun hae his bit staigic;
But I kent the day when there was na a Jock,
But trotted about upon honest shanks-naigie.
Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste,
Barely a mullin for mice or for rattens;
The thrifty gudewife to the flesh-market paced,
Her equipage a'—just a gude pair o' pattens.
Folk were as gude then, and friends were as leal;
Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a' cautria';
Right aire we were tell't by the housemaid or duel,
'Sir, an ye please, here's yer lass and a lantern.'
The town may be cloutit and pieced till it meets,
A' neebors benorth and besouth without haltin'
Brigs may be biggit ower lums and ower streets,
The Nor-Loch itsel' heap'd as heigh as the Gallon.
But whar is true friendship, and whar will you see
A' that is gude, honest, modest, and thrifty?
Tak gray hairs and wrinkles, and hirple wi' me,
And think on the seventeen-hundred and fifty.
