256

AN IRISH INTERPRETER.

Tom Corrigan, the last one, snug in the churchyard of Kilmain! Me marry one of the King's bad bargains, a flat-footed Militia-man, or a pigdriver of a polee! Be this vargin hand, Major jewel, out of respect to the dead, I'll niver crook a knee before priest or parson wid the face of clay that's under six feet two-nor take a man, Major asthore, that's not able to thrash me when I desarve it."

That this last matrimonial qualification would require a man of thews and sinews to effect, I inferred from having once witnessed the prowess of Big Mary. Late on a dark and rainy evening in December, the column reached the union of three roads, the th being the leading regiment, and Moleene More, as was her wont, at the head of the grenadiers. There were three roads ; but which would lead to the village where we were to be cantoned for the night was the puzzle. A Spaniard appeared, and was interrogatedsome using English, some bad Spanish, and others a curious mixture of both. To every question a negative shake of the head was returned, and the column remained in "a fix." Incensed at his stupidity, Big Mary figured in.

"Musha, bad luck to him, the bothered baste!" she exclaimed; "sure the divil will know what he's asked, if it's put to him in plain Irish!-Honest man-though, 'pon my sowl, you hav'n't an

AN IRISH INTERPRETER.

257

honest look!-do ye know a town that I forget the name of—and will ye tell us which of these boreeins* will be the shortest cut to the place?"

An awful shake of the head intimated that the muleteer had not been indoctrinated in Celtic literature.

"Ah! then, ye ignorant thief of the world, what druv an ommadawn of ye'r kind to put yeerself in people's way, after they have lost it themselves? Take that, ye ill-mannered gommogue, for not answrin' a lady, when she spakes to her infariors."

The blow prostrated the unhappy muleteer; but, whether it would have enlightened or obfuscated his bothered intellects remains a mystery; for an assistant-commissary rode up, pointed out the right road, and relieved the column from its embarrassment.

And yet, with many a man desirous of entering on the holy estate, the flooring of a muleteer would not be considered a matrimonial recommendation. The fair sex are not generally expected to be dealers in blows and blood; and I question whether the sanguinary, though peaceful performances of the ladies of Wick would not operate with me as an antidote against the tender passion. A "ripe red lip" may preA“ dispose a man to fall in love, but assuredly a

* Generally, narrow and ill-made by-roads.

"red right hand" would prove a regular damper. Were I " upon compulsion" obliged to marry, with a choice of evils, although for five-andtwenty years accustomed to a hair mattress with covering containable in a bullock-trunk, rather than commit matrimony with a sea-nymph whose ablutions would "incarnadine " a horsepond, I would,-desperate alternative though it be,-lead a Dunse lady to the altar in the dogdays! *

* "I am uncertain whether a custom that prevails a little north of Coldstream does not extend also to these parts. About Dunse, the fair spinsters give much of their leisure time to the spinning of blankets for their wedding portion. On the nuptial night, the whole stock of virgin-industry is placed on the bed. A friend of mine has, on such an occasion, counted not fewer than ten, thick and heavy. Were the Penelope who owned them forsaken by her Ulysses, she never could complain, like the Grecian spouse,

'Non ego deserto jacuissem frigida lecto!'”

-Pennant's Tour in Scotland.

CHAPTER XIX.

WICK IN THE HERRING SEASON-SCOTCH FISHERIES-HERRINGS, PRO AND CON.-VISIT TO SINCLAIR BAY-CASTLES OF GIRNIGOE AND SINCLAIR-LEGEND OF ITS DUNGEON-PRESERVED BIRDS -THURSO-A NEW ACQUAINTANCE-MR. ROBERTSON.

FROM this, the haven or heaven of herringfishers, I have willingly taken my departure. Young Mirabel insinuates that soup eternally is tiresome. I wonder what he would have said of herring-diet, after passing a day or two in Wick? Everywhere the eye turns, or the foot wanders, foul tokens of the wholesale assassination of this pretty emigrant-for, direct and uninjured from the net, the herring is extremely beautiful-are presented-thousands of barrels, in which myriads of the departed are entombed, -hundreds of vats and vessels, where a new succession of victims undergo, previously to being casked up, a post-mortem operationmen staggering under baskets-full, from boats just come in—and women at every corner, not

260

SCOTCH FISHERIES.

meeting you with "nods and becks, and wreathed smiles," but "garments stained in blood," and hands so desperately ensanguined, that, like my Lady Macbeth's, they would appear to set soap and water at defiance.-If, after all that I have seen and smelt at Wick, I ever look a herring in the face again, then am I " a soused gurnet."

But, to be serious. Of all the sources of British prosperity, every way considered, the herring fisheries of the north are among her steadiest and most important. Overlooking its means of commercial enterprise altogether, its local and national advantages are incalculable. From the official returns for the year 1840-41, it appears that above five hundred and fifty thousand barrels of herrings were cured in Britain, out of which enormous total, five hundred thousand were taken and salted upon the Scottish shores. The extensive employment this mighty source of general wealth must yield, may be inferred from the fishery statistics submitted to parliament. In capturing and curing, twelve thousand five hundred boats and decked vessels were engaged, manned by fifty-four thousand seamen, and giving most lucrative occupation to two thousand three hundred coopers, twentyseven thousand five hundred curers-four-fifths of the number women-six thousand common labourers, and nearly two thousand merchants.