Perthshire in bygone days

GEORGE PENNY. 237
that it might lead to the detection of the heartless per-
petrator, which it quickly did, and the next week's paper
contained the sub.'s explanation ; —
"On Friday last, a jolly, good-natured, country-looking
man called at our office, with a copy of our last week's
publication in his hand, and, pointing to the above-
mentioned paragraph, challenged the correctness of the
statement, briefly and bluntly saying, ' This is no' true, it
maun be altered.' On being asked, 'How do you happen
to know ? ' he replied, ' Naebody can ken better, for I 'm
the man.' ' You the man ! you have got quickly better ;
you do not seem to be much injured about the head or
face.' ' Oh ! ye're in a mistak' I'm no' the man that was
hurt ; I'm the villain that did it ; I'm the two villains; I'm
the two drovers. But, ye see, I'll just tell ye the story : —
" ' I'm the Auchtermuchty carrier ; an' on last Friday I
was ordered to bring a bun frae Perth for a gentleman, for
the New-year times. Weel, I bought the bun, an' it cost
me near twenty shillins. I was unco' carefu' o' the bun,
and did na pack it in wi' the rest o' my gudes. I carried it
mysel' when I walkit, an' it lay beside me when I sat on my
cart. Just at the plantin' ye speak o' I cam' down to travel
apiece to heat mysel', an' that time left the bun on the
tap o' the cart. A mile farer on I stoppit the cart, an' whan
I went up I missed the bun. Upon that, I left the cart in
the charge o' a neebor, an' ran back lookin' baith sides o'
the road ; an' just at the plantin' I o'ertook a chiel' scourin'
awa wi' the bun in his oxter, f Stop, frien',' says I, ' ye've
got something that's no' ye're ain, that's my bun, an' I
maun hae 't.' He refused it, an' gaed aff the road into the
plantin', squarin' wi' his stick, an' keepin' me at defiance ;
out I was determined to hae back the bun, if I could ava.
So I seized upon him, but bein' out o' breath wi' rinnin', he
gat the better o' me, an' lay aboon me for a good while. I
lay as quietly below him as possible to get back my breatb,
defendin' mysel' as weel as I could. But when the chiel'
got haud o' my nose an' tried to bite it aff, I was obleeged
to gather a' my strength. When I threw him aff, and gat
on the top o' him, I gae him twa-three gude dads, that I'll
no' deny — troth I'm angry I had na time to gie him some
mair o' the same kind. Howsomever, I brought awa my
bun, an' left him there to cool. That's the short an' lang
o' the story. Ye may mak' o' it what ye like, but the auld
haver winna do, specially the two drovers. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' "