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Various

"Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume XXII"

Occasionally I overrated my abilities--my
task was unfinished, and I was compelled to count a _dead horse_. Week
after week this grew upon me, till I was so firmly saddled, that, until
the expiration of my apprenticeship, I was never completely freed from
it. This was another of my curse's handmaidens."
Here he turned to me with a look of seriousness, and said, "Beware,
young man, how you trust to your own strength and your own talents; for
however noble it may be to do so, let it be in the open field, before
you are driven into a corner, where your arms may come in contact with
the thorns and the angles of the hedges.
"About this time, too, I fell in love--yes, _fell_ in love; for I just
beheld the fair object, and I was a dead man, or a new man, or anything
you will. Frequently as I have looked and acted like a fool, I believe I
never did so so strikingly as at that moment. She was a beautiful
girl--a very angel of light--about five feet three inches high, and my
own age. Heaven knows how I ever had courage to declare my passion; for
I put it off day after day, and week after week, always preparing a new
speech against the next time of meeting her, until three or four rivals
stepped forward before me. At length I did speak, and never was love
more clumsily declared. I told her in three words; then looked to the
ground, and again in her face most pitifully.


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