HAWKIE either lost or had the
misfortune to have an old— fashioned silver watch stolen from his fob, and
he was lamenting over it the following morning, giving this soliloquy:
"May the evening’s diversion
Prove the morning’s derision."
But, he added, in the words of a distinguished
statesman of the day:
"Our judgments, like our watches,
Go just alike; but each believes his own."
however, Hawkie could easily go from
the sublime to the ridiculous at any time; and while he was thus lamenting
the loss of his watch in these dignified strains, he saw a notorious
quack, of the name of Moat, dashing through the streets in a splendid
equipage. This quack, like many others, pretended to be from the British
College of Health, and that his quack pills (of gamboge and aloes), which
he sold in great quantities in Glasgow and other places, could cure all
diseases incident to the human frame. Hawkie took a tremendous grudge
against this quack, and reviled him, perhaps properly enough., on every
occasion. In that instance he turned the laugh on him by telling, with the
gravest face, the following story
"You see, my friends, there was a simple loon in the country who lost his
cuddy ass. He went to the quack in his grand country house at Govan, told
him his misfortune, and asked him if by his infallible means he could
restore or tell him where to find his cuddy.
"‘Oh yes,’ said the quack, and he
gave him twelve pills for a shilling, and told him to ‘take them at night
and he would find his ass next day.’ The sumph took the pills, and going
in quest of his ass next morning, was constrained by the quack’s art to
leap over a hedge, where he espied his ass, which he recovered, and this
was regarded to be an infallible proof of the quack’s skill.
"Now," said Hawkie, "without being
either a believer or follower of Quack Moat, it’s just possible that I may
tumble in with my watch, or recover the article in a sound, sober state,
either in the New Wynd, or down yonder at the Spoutmouth."