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nearest, and was at Sir James the Justice's lang o'er John was brought into judgment.
John enters before the justice with a red, red face like a well pay'd arse, fa's down on his knees, saying; Guideen Mr. Justice, Sir James, and it please your honour, ye manna put me in prison, for I m no malefactor, but a poor honest kintryman, that was born in an ill planet, my mither says't. I had the ill luck of a misfortune to fa' foul wi' fornication, and got my mither s lass wi bairn the last year, an they're gaun to father't on me the year again.
The justice smiling, answer'd, Indeed John, I think it is but very just and reasonable, that ye be accountable this year, for your last year's labour.
Jock. Ay, ay, sir, I have laboured very sair since my father died, but our plough canna get ga'in for frost this four days.
Just. Ay, but John, that's no what I mean, it's the child ye got last year you must be answerable for this.
Jock. A deed stir, there was twa o' them, but there is ane o' them dead.
Just. A well then John, you'll have the more to give to the one that's alive.
Jock. O! but stir, it's my ain wean that's dead, the ane I got wi' my wife; I dinna ken whither the tither be mine or no.
Just. Yours or no sir, when ye told me ye got it; if ye should get it wi' a beggar wife at the back of a dyke, what is that to the purpose, when it is of your getting, you must maintain it?
Jock. O! yes, stir, I'm no refusing to gie't meat an meal to maintain it; but my mither winna let me to the black-stool.
Just. Why not go to the black-stool, when guilty of such an action as deserves it? if you have any reason why you should not go, argument it in the session, and clear yourself if you can.
John's mither enters, and addresses herself to the servant lass, thinking she was the justice's lady.
Indeed mistress madam, if ye were a kintry guidewife like mysel, I could tell you a about it, but you that's gentles, I canna use freedom wi' you, because I hae na Latin. But wae's me, we that's poor fouk is born to many feelins an backward faus; this lad is my son, and I'm his mother, he has had the foul fortune to get a bystart bairn, no doubt but we hae been a' guilty o' as muckle, and ne'er a word about it a'. What say ye madam?
Off goes the lass, saying, Foul fa' the wife, for I was never guilty o't.
