Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 213 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 213: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Old Rory, Page 195 This is a page of running prose from the serialized narrative "Old Rory." The text depicts an emotional scene between an old Scottish soldier named McIntosh (or "Major") and a younger man named Tom (called "Tammie"), who has appeared in Highland dress. McIntosh, moved by Tom's story and appearance, offers him land, property, and inheritance if he will stay and take the McIntosh name, though Tom declines, stating he must return to his military command. The passage concludes with bagpipes sounding from the street below, playing a tune called "My Boy Tammie." The writing employs Scottish dialect heavily throughout.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
O_p Rory 195 tegé with kindling eyes. The Highland bonnet, plaid, and kilt were anything but unbecoming to the youngster. “Has na he the eye an’ step o a prince?” was the old fellow’s reflection. To Anderson he said, “Ye wad pass for ane o’ our red McIntoshes — frae the Chattahoochee — wi the Cherokee blood hot under their hides.” Tom’s story had stirred this brave old spirit to its very depths. And Tom himself so filled Rory’s eye and heart that at sight of him in Highland costume, Rory broke out with a great Gaelic oath, which — fortunately —I am unable to spell. He exclaimed earnestly: ‘ Daur-Deevil, I hae na kith nor kin; but I hae land an’ niggers: a bonny sicht o baith. And a hoose o’ coquina; whilk will na blaw intil the sea. Gang hame wi’ me to Mallow! doun ’’ Florida. An’ I will mak ye as my ain son! I hae gear an’ siller, nae fear; an’ Luath has ta’en tae ye!” Tom was much moved. “Major, your goodness over- whelms me. I am not insensible to the honor you do me! But I’m a soldier. I must go back to my command. You know,” laughing, “at Blackstock’s the Georgians thrashed the redcoats out of their boots. We must follow up our advantage.” McIntosh shook his head reprovingly. But how his single eye shone! “Ye are a bauld, high-headed laddie, Tammie.’ Buckling on a tremendous sword, he handed his cherished dirk to Tom. “It gaes tae my heart tae see ye wi the McIntosh plaid aboot those young shoulders o your ain. If ye wad but tak my name, laddie, — gang back intil the rebel airmy an’ ye will!— but I wad mak ye my heir.” “Major,” — trying to laugh, — “this 1s sheer bribery and corruption! But I'll never forget your kindness while God spares me!”’ wringing the old soldier’s brave hand. From the street below came the scream of the bagpipes. Sir George Claiborne’s piper was in waiting. And hark! that old, old Scotch tune, that was to herald their way through Charleston, was “My Boy Tammie!”’ CORNICLIOO® eS (C(©) mn