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.A lawfu' trade's a lawfu' trade, says I, andPage 65 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlit's contrary to public policy to pit it at the mercy of wheen cranks.D'ye noagree, sir? By the way, I havena got your name?'I told him and he rambled on.'We're blenders and do a very highclass business, mostly foreign.The war'shit us wi' our export trade, of course, but we're no as bad as some.What'syour line, Mr McCaskie?'When he heard he was keenly interested.'D'ye say so? Ye're from Todd's! Man, I was in the book business mysel', tillI changed it for something a wee bit more lucrative.I was on the road forthree years for Andrew Matheson.Ye ken the name PaternosterRow I've forgotten the number.I had a kind of ambition to start abooksellin' shop of my own and to makeLinklater o' Paisley a big name in the trade.But I got the offer fromHatherwick's, and I was wantin' to get married, so filthy lucre won the day.And I'm no sorry I changed.If it hadna been for this war, I would have beenmakin' four figures with my salary and commissions.My pipe's out.Have youone of those rare and valuable curiosities called a spunk, Mr McCaskie?' Hewas a merry little grig of a man, and he babbled on, till I announced myintention of going to bed.If this was Amos's bagman, who had been seen incompany with Gresson, I understood how idle may be the suspicions of a cleverman.He had probably foregathered with Gresson on the Skye boat, and weariedthat saturnine soul with his cackle.I was up betimes, paid my bill, ate a breakfast of porridge and fresh haddock,and walked the few hundred yards to the station.It was a warm, thick morning,with no sun visible, and the Skye hills misty to their base.The three coaches on the little train were nearly filled when I had bought myticket, and I selected a thirdclass smoking carriage which held four soldiersreturning from leave.The train was already moving when a late passenger hurried along the platformand clambered in beside me.A cheery 'Mornin', Mr McCaskie,' revealed my fellow guest at the hotel.Mr.StandfastMr.Standfast62We jolted away from the coast up a broad glen and then on to a wide expanse ofbog with big hills showing towards the north.It was a drowsy day, and in thatatmosphere of shag and crowded humanity I felt my eyes closing.I had a shortnap, and woke to find that Mr Linklater had changed his seat and was nowbeside me.'We'll no get a Scotsman till Muirtown,' he said.'Have ye nothing in yoursamples ye could give me to read?'I had forgotten about the samples.I opened the case and found the oddestcollection of little books, all in gay bindings.Some were religious, withnames like _Dew _of _Hermon and _Cool _Siloam; some were innocent narratives,__How Tommy saved his _Pennies, __A Missionary Child in _China, and __LittleSusie and her_Uncle.There was a __Life of David _Livingstone, a child's book on seashells,and a richly gilt edition of the poems of one James Montgomery.I offered theselection to Mr Linklater, who grinned and chose theMissionary Child.'It's not the reading I'm accustomed to,' he said.'I likestrong meat Hall Caine and JackLondon.By the way, how d'ye square this business of yours wi' thebooksellers? When I was in Matheson's there would have been trouble if we haddealt direct wi' the public like you.'The confounded fellow started to talk about the details of the book trade, ofwhich I knew nothing.He wanted to know on what terms we sold 'juveniles', andwhat discount we gave the big wholesalers, and what class of book we put out'on sale'.I didn't understand a word of his jargon, and I must have givenPage 66 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlmyself away badly, for he asked me questions about firms of which I had neverheard, and I had to make some kind of answer.Itold myself that the donkey was harmless, and that his opinion of me matterednothing, but as soon as Idecently could I pretended to be absorbed in the _Pilgrim's _Progress, a gaudycopy of which was among the samples.It opened at the episode of Christian andHopeful in the Enchanted Ground, and in that stuffy carriage I presentlyfollowed the example of Heedless and TooBold and fell sound asleep.I wasawakened by the train rumbling over the points of a little moorland junction.Sunk in a pleasing lethargy, I sat with my eyes closed, and then covertly tooka glance at my companion.He had abandoned the Missionary Child and wasreading a little dun coloured book, and marking passages with a pencil.Hisface was absorbed, and it was a new face, not the vacant, goodhumoured look ofthe garrulous bagman, but something shrewd, purposeful, and formidable.Iremained hunched up as if still sleeping, and tried to see what the book was.But my eyes, good as they are, could make out nothing of the text or title,except that I had a very strong impression that that book was not written inthe English tongue.I woke abruptly, and leaned over to him.Quick as lightning he slid his pencilup his sleeve and turned on me with a fatuous smile.'What d'ye make o' this, Mr McCaskie? It's a wee book I picked up at a roupalong with fifty others.I paid five shillings for the lot.It looks likeGairman, but in my young days they didna teach us foreign languages.'I took the thing and turned over the pages, trying to keep any sign ofintelligence out of my face [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.A lawfu' trade's a lawfu' trade, says I, andPage 65 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlit's contrary to public policy to pit it at the mercy of wheen cranks.D'ye noagree, sir? By the way, I havena got your name?'I told him and he rambled on.'We're blenders and do a very highclass business, mostly foreign.The war'shit us wi' our export trade, of course, but we're no as bad as some.What'syour line, Mr McCaskie?'When he heard he was keenly interested.'D'ye say so? Ye're from Todd's! Man, I was in the book business mysel', tillI changed it for something a wee bit more lucrative.I was on the road forthree years for Andrew Matheson.Ye ken the name PaternosterRow I've forgotten the number.I had a kind of ambition to start abooksellin' shop of my own and to makeLinklater o' Paisley a big name in the trade.But I got the offer fromHatherwick's, and I was wantin' to get married, so filthy lucre won the day.And I'm no sorry I changed.If it hadna been for this war, I would have beenmakin' four figures with my salary and commissions.My pipe's out.Have youone of those rare and valuable curiosities called a spunk, Mr McCaskie?' Hewas a merry little grig of a man, and he babbled on, till I announced myintention of going to bed.If this was Amos's bagman, who had been seen incompany with Gresson, I understood how idle may be the suspicions of a cleverman.He had probably foregathered with Gresson on the Skye boat, and weariedthat saturnine soul with his cackle.I was up betimes, paid my bill, ate a breakfast of porridge and fresh haddock,and walked the few hundred yards to the station.It was a warm, thick morning,with no sun visible, and the Skye hills misty to their base.The three coaches on the little train were nearly filled when I had bought myticket, and I selected a thirdclass smoking carriage which held four soldiersreturning from leave.The train was already moving when a late passenger hurried along the platformand clambered in beside me.A cheery 'Mornin', Mr McCaskie,' revealed my fellow guest at the hotel.Mr.StandfastMr.Standfast62We jolted away from the coast up a broad glen and then on to a wide expanse ofbog with big hills showing towards the north.It was a drowsy day, and in thatatmosphere of shag and crowded humanity I felt my eyes closing.I had a shortnap, and woke to find that Mr Linklater had changed his seat and was nowbeside me.'We'll no get a Scotsman till Muirtown,' he said.'Have ye nothing in yoursamples ye could give me to read?'I had forgotten about the samples.I opened the case and found the oddestcollection of little books, all in gay bindings.Some were religious, withnames like _Dew _of _Hermon and _Cool _Siloam; some were innocent narratives,__How Tommy saved his _Pennies, __A Missionary Child in _China, and __LittleSusie and her_Uncle.There was a __Life of David _Livingstone, a child's book on seashells,and a richly gilt edition of the poems of one James Montgomery.I offered theselection to Mr Linklater, who grinned and chose theMissionary Child.'It's not the reading I'm accustomed to,' he said.'I likestrong meat Hall Caine and JackLondon.By the way, how d'ye square this business of yours wi' thebooksellers? When I was in Matheson's there would have been trouble if we haddealt direct wi' the public like you.'The confounded fellow started to talk about the details of the book trade, ofwhich I knew nothing.He wanted to know on what terms we sold 'juveniles', andwhat discount we gave the big wholesalers, and what class of book we put out'on sale'.I didn't understand a word of his jargon, and I must have givenPage 66 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlmyself away badly, for he asked me questions about firms of which I had neverheard, and I had to make some kind of answer.Itold myself that the donkey was harmless, and that his opinion of me matterednothing, but as soon as Idecently could I pretended to be absorbed in the _Pilgrim's _Progress, a gaudycopy of which was among the samples.It opened at the episode of Christian andHopeful in the Enchanted Ground, and in that stuffy carriage I presentlyfollowed the example of Heedless and TooBold and fell sound asleep.I wasawakened by the train rumbling over the points of a little moorland junction.Sunk in a pleasing lethargy, I sat with my eyes closed, and then covertly tooka glance at my companion.He had abandoned the Missionary Child and wasreading a little dun coloured book, and marking passages with a pencil.Hisface was absorbed, and it was a new face, not the vacant, goodhumoured look ofthe garrulous bagman, but something shrewd, purposeful, and formidable.Iremained hunched up as if still sleeping, and tried to see what the book was.But my eyes, good as they are, could make out nothing of the text or title,except that I had a very strong impression that that book was not written inthe English tongue.I woke abruptly, and leaned over to him.Quick as lightning he slid his pencilup his sleeve and turned on me with a fatuous smile.'What d'ye make o' this, Mr McCaskie? It's a wee book I picked up at a roupalong with fifty others.I paid five shillings for the lot.It looks likeGairman, but in my young days they didna teach us foreign languages.'I took the thing and turned over the pages, trying to keep any sign ofintelligence out of my face [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]