Freaks on the Fells | Page 3

family--seven of us
altogether--in a wagon, John--"
"But you forget, I said that there are stage-coaches in Scotland."
"Well; but think of the slow and wearisome travelling among great
mountains, over precipices, and through Scotch mists. Lady
Knownothing assures me she has been told that the rain never ceases in
Scotland, except for a short time in autumn, just to give the scanty
crops time to ripen. You know, dear, that our darling Jacky's health
could never stand the Scotch mists, he is so very, delicate."
"Why, Mary!" exclaimed Mr Sudberry, abruptly; "the doctor told me
only yesterday that for a boy of five years old he was a perfect marvel
of robust health--that nothing ailed him, except the result of over-eating
and the want of open-air exercise; and I am sure that I can testify to the
strength of his legs and the soundness of his lungs; for he kicks like a
jackass, and roars like a lion."
"It is very wrong, very sinful of the doctor," said Mrs Sudberry, in a
languidly indignant manner, "to give such a false report of the health of
our darling boy."
At this moment the door burst open, and the "darling boy" rushed into
the room--with a wild cheer of defiance at his nurse, from whom he had
escaped, and who was in full pursuit--hit his head on the corner of the
table, and fell flat on the floor, with a yell that might have sent a pang

of jealousy to the heart of a Chippeway Indian!
Mr Sudberry started up, and almost overturned the tea-table in his haste;
but before he could reach his prostrate son, nurse had him kicking in
her arms, and carried him off howling.
"Darling child!" said Mrs Sudberry, with her hand on her heart. "How
you do startle me, John, with your violence! That is the fifteenth
tea-cup this week."
The good lady pointed to a shattered member of the set that lay on the
tray beside her.
"I have just ordered a new set, my dear," said her husband, in a subdued
voice. "Our poor dear boy would benefit, I think, by mountain air. But
go on with the cons."
"Have I not said enough?" replied Mrs Sudberry, with an injured look.
"Besides, they have no food in Scotland."
This was a somewhat staggering assertion. The merchant looked
astonished.
"At least," pursued his wife, "they have nothing, I am told, but oatmeal.
Do you imagine that Jacky could live on oatmeal? Do you suppose that
your family would return to London in a condition fit to be looked at,
after a summer spent on food such as we give to our horses? No doubt
you will tell me they have plenty of milk,--buttermilk, I suppose, which
I abhor. But do you think that I could live with pleasure on sawdust,
just because I had milk to take to it?"
"But milk implies cream, my dear," interposed the merchant, "and
buttermilk implies butter, and both imply cows, which are strong
presumptive evidence in favour of beef. Besides--"
"Don't talk to me, Mr Sudberry. I know better; and Lady Knownothing,
who went to Scotland last year, in the most unprejudiced state of mind,
came back absolutely horrified by what she had seen. Why, she actually

tells me that the natives still wear the kilt! The very day she passed
through Edinburgh she met five hundred men without trousers! To be
sure, they had guns on their shoulders, and someone told her they were
soldiers; but the sight was so appalling that she could not get rid of the
impression; she shut her eyes, and ordered the coachman to drive
straight through the town, and let her know when she was quite beyond
its walls. She has no doubt whatever that most, if not all, of the other
inhabitants of that place were clothed--perhaps I should say
unclothed--in the same way. What surprised poor Lady Knownothing
most was, that she did not see nearly so many kilts in the Highlands as
she saw on that occasion in Edinburgh, from which she concluded that
the natives of Scotland are less barbarous in the north than they are in
the south. But she did see a few. One man who played those hideous
things called the pipes--which, she says, are so very like little pigs
being killed--actually came into her presence one day, sat down before
her with bare knees, and took a pinch of snuff with a salt-spoon!"
"That is a dreadful account, no doubt," said Mr Sudberry, "but you
must remember that Lady Knownothing is given to exaggerating, and is
therefore not to be depended on. Have you done with the cons?"
"Not nearly done, John, but my nervous system cannot stand the
sustained contemplation of such things. I should