INDEX 1745  GLOBAL MURALS  PRESTONPANS  ARTS FESTIVAL  GOTHENBURG FOWLERS..


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Prestonpans and Vicinity

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there were sports on the green he was sure to be there, and if there was a refreshment tent on the ground he was sure to be found in it. One day, together with a number of his fellow-villagers, he was boozing in one of these tents when a recruiting sergeant entered. Wull, with his legs beneath the table, looked the most likely civilian among the party for the making of a soldier. He caught the sergeant's eye, and was requested there and then to take the proverbial shilling. " All right, " quoth Wull, " ca' in some drink, wi't. " The drink was quickly in, and soon quaffed up. "Come on now, " quoth the recruiter, "its time we were going. " " All right, " replied Wull, " hand me ower my stilts an' I'll be wi' ye directly. " " Sold again, " shouted his friends, with an outburst of laughter, in which the sergeant heartily joined and retired from the revellers.
QUITE FEARLESS.
During the cholera epidemic of 1842, Hunter played a great part among those who were stricken down in the village. Many a hovel he entered and brought relief to the sufferers when no one else would venture in. He had not only a fearless heart, but a strong constitution, and except the trouble that over-indulgment in the wine glass brought him, he never seemed to know what suffering was. But his end came too.
GEORDIE MUIR.
Geordie Muir was Wull Hunter's successor in office as drummer, etc. Wull used the big drum, his successor the kettle drum. Geordie Muir, like his predecessor, was very lame, but he used only a big stick instead of crutches when walking. Geordie was not a man of bright ideas like Hunter; he liked the " bottle " every whit as well, and he dearly liked to have a flyte with his mother. As a rule drink was always at the bottom of their quarrels, and as sure as she abused him for tippling, as sure was he to shriek out, " If ye dinna haud yer tongue, wuman, as share as daith I'll run away an' list. " "Ay, ye blackgaurd, " she would reply, " rin away then, for I ken it's the road ye have to gang at ony rate. "
Before Geordie took to the " drum beating " he was a coal carter. He had a bit beastie and cart of his own, and as sure as he got fou' he blamed the horse for being drunk. Geordie as a rule drove his coals down from Elphinstone pits to the Pans, coming by the west end of Tranent. One day when

coming down a hilly part of the road his horse fell, and loudly he bawled, " Mother, mother! mother, mother!" till no end of assistance came. " What's wrang, Geordie? " cried one; " What's wrang?" for Geordie was well known at Tranent. " The horse's drunk, " exclaimed he, " the cairt's reestit, and Geordie Muir's fau'n. "
" It's the horse that's fau'n, Geordie, " replied the speaker. " Oh so it is, puir beastie, " rejoined he; " but then, d'ye see, he hasna got a wiselike diet this fortnicht, and unless he stops that dram drinkin' I doot he winna get ony mair for a fortnicht to come; for, d'ye see, gin it gangs intil the gill stoup, it canna gang into the moothpock. "
One day he went home with his face all scratched and bleeding. "What's the matter noo, Geordie?" quoth his mother. " Ah, mother, mother, " replied he, " its that horse again, puir beast. He hasna been sober this fortnicht; but surely, mother, he canna help it. He got drunk again, d'ye see, and Geordie Muir fell; but I think I'll gang an' list. " " Yes, gang an' list, " quoth she, " and tak' the horse too, and they'll surely keep ye sober in the regiment. " Geordie became town crier after he lost his horse, but he was no great success in the art of drum beating.
DAVIE STORIE.
Davie Storie succeeded Geordie Muir. Davie never used the drum, but stuck to the bell. He was a " Jack of all trades. " Not only did he go in for baking, but at times he was a painter, a plasterer, a plumber, and, to crown all, a famous chimney sweeper. At one time a pair of beautiful figures, representative of our first parents, stood before a cottage door at Preston. One day Davie was requested to sweep the chimneys there. On his way home he met a cronie. "Where hae ye been, Davie?" inquired he. " Oh, " was the reply, " I've been up, up, " but he had forgotten the name of the house. "Eh, daggont, " he blurted out, "I've been up soopin Adam and Eve's lums. " One day Davie got fou, and a merchant, who was a character in his way, found the chimney sweeper lying helpless at the mouth of Piper's Close. He fell in with Geordie Simpson—Geordie acted sometimes as scavenger and crier in Davie Storie's absence—" Quick, get the hell, Geordie, " cried the merchant, " and alang ye go by Piper's Wynd and cry oot, ' Lost, stolen, or strayed, the chimney sweeper of Prestonpans. Whoever shall bring him,

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