Subject: re : tadpole fr ! ee prescr @ iptions , li ` mited time offer . solar
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the same bridge saw another sight in the seventeenth century . mr . thomson , the curat of anstruther easter , was a man highly obnoxious to the devout : in the first place , because he was a curat ; in the second place , because he was a person of irregular and scandalous life ; and in the third place , because he was generally suspected of dealings with the enemy of man . these three disqualifications , in the popular literature of the time , go hand in hand ; but the end of mr . thomson was a thing quite by itself , and in the proper see , a manifest judgment . he had been at a see ' s house in anstruther wester , where ( and elsewhere , i suspect ) he had partaken of the bottle ; indeed , to put the thing in our cold modern way , the reverend gentleman was on the brink of delirium tremens . it was a dark night , it seems ; a little lassie came carrying a lantern to fetch the curate home ; and away they went down the street of anstruther wester , the lantern swinging a bit in the child ' s hand , the barred lustre tossing up and down along the front of slumbering houses , and mr . thomson not altogether steady on his legs nor ( to all appearance ) easy in his mind . the pair had reached the middle of the bridge when ( as i conceive the scene ) the poor tippler started in some baseless fear and looked behind him ; the child , already shaken by the minister ' s strange behaviour , started also ; in so doing , she would jerk the lantern ; and for the space of a moment the lights and the shadows would be all confounded . then it was that to the unhinged toper and the twittering child , a huge bulk of blackness seemed to sweep down , to pass them close by as they stood upon the bridge , and to vanish on the farther side in the general darkness of the night . plainly the devil come for mr . thomson ! thought the child . what mr . thomson thought himself , we have no ground of knowledge ; but he fell upon his knees in the midst of the bridge like a man praying . on the rest of the journey to the manse , history is silent ; but when they came to the door , the poor caitiff , taking the lantern from the child , looked upon her with so lost a countenance that her little courage died within her , and she fled home screaming to her parents . not a soul would venture out ; all that night , the minister dwelt alone with his terrors in the manse ; and when the day dawned , and men made bold to go about the streets , they found the devil had come indeed for mr . thomson .
