Martha Spreull: being chapters in the life of a single wumman

54
MARTHA SPREULL.
On examination I fand that my leg wis encircled firm and
fast by a guid stoot string.
Weel, seein’ it wis a runnin’ loop, I sune freed mysel’ frae peril.
It had nae doot been lyin’ open on the fitpaith on purpose, an'
when I stepped into it, must have been pu’d wi’ a sudden jerk,
for the thing had tichtened on the thick pairt o’ my cauf, aboot
a spang below the knee.
Thinks I, “ This is awfu’! ” I had heard o’ assassination so¬
cieties amang the Irish, the hochin’ o’ cattle, an’ sic like things;
hut to be trappit at yer ain door in this Christian country, in the
face o’ heavy pollis-money, wis past mortal belief an’ endurance.
I could hae fentit fine; hooever when I saw there wis naebody
near I got angry, an’ that saved me.
Weel, thinks I, this maun be bottomed. Body-liftin’ an’
burkin’ were common enough when I wis a lassie, but a’ that
has been put an end to by the Anatomy Act; this, too, thinks I
whatever it means, maun be put doon.
I followed the string, an’ saw that the tither end o ’t gaed
into a trance that wis reached by a short flight o’ steps frae the
street. It wisna a through-gaun close, an’ I could see it didna
gang very far ben. So I planted mysel’ in front o’t, an’ com¬
manded the culprit to gie himsel’ up to unconditional surrender.
I listened, an’ thocht I could hear a quick breath i’ the
darkness, but there wisna a word in reply.
“Oh, ye may come oot,” quoth I, “for I’ll wait here till the
pollis comes, though I should bide till daylicht i’ the mornin’.”
The breathin’ grew faster, but there wis nae word o’
surrender. “ What,” thinks I to mysel, “if the villain should
get desperate an’ fa’ on me wi’ his nieves ? ”
There wisna a footstep in the street, an’ I felt it wis rinnin
an unco risk, but the thocht inspired me with a happy idea
that I lost nae time in carry in’ through.