XLV Bob Acres in trouble ACRES. By my valour ! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims !— I say it is a good distance. SIR LUCIUS. Is it for muskets or small fieldpieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me. Stay now- -I'll show you. (Measures paces along the stage.) There now, that is a very pretty distance-a pretty gentleman's distance. ACRES. Zds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim, SIR LUC. Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight! ACRES. NO, Sir Lucius, but I should think forty or eight-and-thirty yards SIR LUC. Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. ACRES. Odds, bullets, no!-by my valour ! there is no merit in killing him so near: no, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me! SIR LUC. Well-the gentleman's friend and I must settle that. But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you! ACRES. I am much obliged to you, Sir Luciusbut I don't understand SIR LUC. Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk, and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it—I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters. ACRES. A quietus ! SIR LUC. For instance, now-if that should be the case would you choose to be pickled and sent home? -or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey. ACRES. Pickled !-snug lying in the Abbey ! Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so! SIR LUC. I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before? ACRES. NO, Sir Lucius, never before. SIR LUC. Ah! that's a pity!—there's nothing like being used to a thing. Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot? ACRES. Odds files !-I 've practised that-there, Sir Lucius-there. (Puts himself in an attitude.) A side-front, hey? Odds! I'll make myself small enough: I'll stand edgeways. SIR LUC. Now-you 're quite out-for if you stand so when I take my aim (Levelling at him.) ACRES. Zds! -ds! Sir Lucius-are you sure it is not cocked? go SIR LUC. Never fear. ACRES. But-but-you don't know-it may off of its own head! SIR LUC. Pho! be easy. Well, now if I hit you in the body, my bullet has a double chance for if it misses a vital part of your right side, 'twill be very hard if it don't succeed on the left! ACRES. A vital part! SIR LUC. But, there-fix yourself so (placing him)—let him see the broad-side of your full front -there-now a ball or two may pass clean through your body, and never do any harm at all. ACRES. Clean through me !-a ball or two clean through me! SIR LUC. Aye-may they-and it is much the genteelest attitude into the bargain. ACRES. Look'ee! Sir Lucius-I'd just as lieve be shot in an awkward posture as a genteel one-so, by my valour! I will stand edgeways. SIR LUC. (looking at his watch). Sure they don't mean to disappoint us. Hah!-no, faith-I think I see them coming. ACRES. Hey!-what!-coming! SIR LUC. Aye-who are those yonder getting over the stile? ACRES. There are two of them, indeed !-well -let them come-hey, Sir Lucius !—we—we— we-we-won't run. SIR LUC. Run! ACRES. NO-I say we won't run, by my valour ! SIR LUC. What the devil's the matter with you? ACRES. Nothing-nothing-my dear friendmy dear Sir Lucius-but I-I-I don't feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did. SIR LUC. Oh, fie !-consider your honour. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two every now and then about my honour. SIR LUC. Well, here they 're coming. (Looking.) ACRES. Sir Lucius--if I wa'n't with you, I should almost think I was afraid-if my valour should leave me ! Valour will come and go. SIR LUC. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it. ACRES. Sir Lucius-I doubt it is going—yesmy valour is certainly going !—it is sneaking off! I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands! SIR LUC. Your honour-your honour. Here they are. ACRES. Oh, mercy !-now-that I was safe at Clod Hall! or could be shot before I was aware! 66 XLVI Bailie Jarvie is on his dignity BONNY thing it is, and a beseeming, that I should be kept at the door half an hour, Captain Stanchells," said he, addressing the principal jailor, who now showed himself at the door as if in attendance on the great man, "knocking as hard to get into the tolbooth as onybody else wad to get out of it, could that avail them, poor fallen creatures! And how's this?-how's this?strangers in the jail after lock-up hours, and on the Sabbath evening!—I shall look after this, Stanchells, you may depend on 't.-Keep the door locked, and I'll speak to these gentlemen in a gliffing.—But first I maun hae a crack wi' an auld acquaintance here. Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how 's a' wi' ye, man?" "Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie," drawled out poor Owen, "but sore afflicted in spirit." "Nae doubt, nae doubt-ay, ay-it 's an awfu' whummle—and for ane that held his head sae high too-human nature, human nature-Ay, ay, we 're a' subject to a downcome. Mr. Osbaldistone is a gude honest gentleman; but I aye said he was ane o' them wad make a spune or spoil a horn, as my father the worthy deacon used to say. The deacon used to say to me, 'Nick-young Nick,' (his name was Nicol as weel as mine; sae folk ca'd us in their daffin', young Nick and auld Nick)—“ Nick,' said he, never put out your arm farther than can draw it easily back again.' I hae said sae to Mr. Osbaldistone, and he didna seem to take it a'thegether sae kind as I wished-but it was weel meant-weel meant.' ye This discourse, delivered with prodigious volubility, and a great appearance of self-complacency, as he recollected his own advice and predictions, gave little promise of assistance at the hands of Mr. Jarvie. Yet it soon appeared rather to proceed from a total want of delicacy than any deficiency of real kindness; for when Owen expressed himself somewhat hurt that these things should be recalled to memory in his present situation, the Glaswegian took him by the hand, and bade him "Cheer up a gliff! a gliff! D' D'ye think I wad hae comed |