Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 212 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 212: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil" (page 194). The text depicts a Scottish character named Rory entertaining Tom with commentary on education and French upbringing, then preparing Tom to meet Sir George Claiborne by outfitting him in Highland dress. Tom protests that the kilt doesn't cover his knees, prompting Rory's indignant response defending Highland clothing customs. The scene concludes with Rory purchasing moccasins to complete Tom's outfit. The dialogue is rendered in thick Scottish dialect.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
194 Tom ANpDERSON, DarE-DEVIL i the face. ‘ Warse an’ warse,’ says I. “We gie shrimp an’ crabs an’ sic-like, to our chickens; doun at Mallow.’ Eh, sirs! I thocht my Lord Rawdon wad split his sides. Sir Eneas is a braw, brave young gentleman, but he’s had his upbringing in France, ye ken. Whilk is a misfortune an’ no a fault, ye ken, Tammie. I wad na gie a shoe-thrum for a Pair-r-ris education! Na, na! Naething but faircical notions o’ eatin’ an’ drinkin’ an’ fightin’! I hae na been educated mysel’ to the point o’ thinkin’ that calf’s-head and sheep’s-chittlings are fu’ good enow for a white mon —muckle less a McIntosh!”’ Tom roared. And Rory was much pleased with himself. “Nane the less, [he McIntosh is a gude soldier: nane better. But when a mon gaes drinkin’ sweeten’-water, mincin’ his speech like ony fine leddy, an’ plumin’ an’ preenin’ himsel’ like a young bubbly- jock wi’ his bill aye 1’ his oil-bag, I says to mysel’: “O Education! Whaur is thy Victory!’’’ And Rory was so pleased with this peroration that he paused dramatically, with Luath’s platter of scraps in hand. “Hear! Hear!” cried Tom, and Luath’s tail tapped applaudingly. ‘“ Now we maun stir. Sir George Claiborne will, nae doot, send his ain piper to wait on me the day.”’ He brought out his uniform — gaudy as an artillery officer’s — and, re- moving his Highlander’s dress, placed that and a new lin- sey shirt at om’s disposal. “Ye’ll look braw? the kilt an’ plaid, nae fear.” ‘om was much disconcerted. “ But the — the — petti- coat does n’t cover my knees!”’ “Petticoat? Why dinna ye say cutty-sark, at ance! Gude save us a’ — hae I hookit a zany? Knees! Wad ony Highlander pit claithes on his honest knees—like a wench?” in a fury of disdain. “Ye hae gude limbs o’ your ain, laddie. Whilk is nae lee. Pit on the stockings and shoon.”’ Tom groaned. And the shoes were impossible. Rory hurried out and purchased a pair of handsome moccasins which fitted the fine feet to a nicety. He surveyed his pro- (E(0) m Eomicbooks