THE STOCKINGMAKERS

Dominion, Volume 31, Issue 142, 12 March 1938, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE STOCKINGMAKERS

Old Scottish Worthies HOW THEY LIVED Tlie stocking-makers of the Scottish Borders, who were the forerunners of a great trade, were a queer set of men —stubborn, independent, ami selfwilled. They were the type -of people who would walk a mile to save a halfpenny, and who cared nothing for their employers. Indeed, if an argument arose between a master and bis worker, it was a common thing then for the latter to put on his bat and coat and walk out of the “shop." But these men displayed, quite unconsciously perhaps, humour on many occasions. The Hawick stockingmakers were once obsessed by the fact that they were being overcharged' for their butcher meat, and, banding them l selves together, they formed a. company of their own. The venture started off well, the workers parading the town with a live bullock which they Lad bought in Kelso, but, fortunately for all concerned, the men found that the maxim of “Every one to his own trade” was true, and the project fizzled out quietly. Shaming the Fiddlers.

The stocking-makers had one fault, they were prone to go on drinking bouts—“on tlie fuddle,” it was called —aud their work suffered, being left for days while tlie men caroused in un inn.

A Hawick shop once decided that they would go on the fuddle together, anil, putting on their coats one Monday morning they filed out of the flat with one accord. The owner was in a fine pickle. He knew only too well that such escapades ended only when the money was done, and. besides, the work was urgently required. At last he hit on a bright idea, and, finding the public-house to which the men bad gone, lie sent for the town drummer and got him to stand outside the licence and shout the names of those inside.

A large crowd had gathered to sec the fun, and the drummer, conscious of the stir he was causing, thumped his drum mightily and in a stentorian voice shouted something like this — “John Scott, Wuli Scott, Jock Tainson, etc., whae are workers tae Walter Wilson, are requested tae stop boozin’ an’ get on wi’ their work at yince, as the said work is urgently wanted for next week.”

On and on went tlie drummer, the crowd roaring and laughing, adding to the discomfiture of those inside. At last the stocking-makers could stand it no, longer, and very sheepishly they were forced to return to work. The master had won. Eluding His Wife. The public-house was unfortunately to those men the be-all and end-all of their lives, and they resorted to all kinds of subterfuges in order to obtain drink. Sandy Thomson was a constant source of anxiety to his wife, so much so that one day she decided that be would drink less and work more. So one morning she escorted him to the shop where he worked, and took up a position outside to watch. All morning she waited, but there was no sign of Sandy, only four weavers passed carrying a skip used for holding yarn. At dinner-time Mrs. Thomson waited triumphantly for her husband, but he was not to be seen. “D’ye ken where Sandy is?” she asked a friend. “Oh, he went oot langsyne ago,” was the answer. “I never saw him,’’ said his wife. “Why, wuniman, he wtis wi’ the skip —inside.” Mrs. Thomson was not to be beaten, however. She went down to Sandy’s favourite “howff” and. sure enough, there was the skip against the wall. Inside marched the woman to where her husband was telling the story of his escape. Seizing him by the ear she said, “Come wi’ me,” and marched him out of the pub. The cure worked. So great was Sandy’s disgrace, that for a long time he was a very steady worker, and remained good enough to please even his exacting spouse. The Vanished Clock. A few stocking-makers were gathered one day in the house of a friend called Storrie, arid, as Mrs. Storrie was away from home, they were having a jolly time. A knock came to the door and, shouting, "Come in!” Storrie admitted a travelling dock-pedlar, very common in those days “Do you want to buy a clock?” asked the pedlar, “Oh no, we dinu.a want a dock,’’ answered the host, but his friends egged him on. “It’ll be a surprise for the wife.” they said. “She’ll hae a surprise for me if I buy it,” siiid Storrie, but succumbed at last to their entreaties, and instructed the vendor to “hing it on the wa’.” This was duly done, and the man received the first payment of a shilling, promising to call back the following Friday for the second shilling, and So on until the clock was paid. However, the stocking-makers’ funds ran low, and. still being thirsty, they looked round for something to pawn. “The clock,” said one, pointing to tlie instrument ticking merrily on the wall.

“What will (lie wife say?” asked Storrie. “She never needs lae ken that ve bought yin,” was the assuring reply, so the clock was duly dispatched to “uncle’s,” and the crew waxed merry on the proceeds. Storrie, true to his word, kept quiet, and the following Friday his wife w.is surprised when a pedlar called demanding liis second payment. “There’s nae clock here.” she said firmly, and when ho began to argue she invited him to search the house, which he did. Of course, the clock was nowhere to be found, and, with profuse apologies th:? man admitted his mistake, saying that lie must have come to the wrong door.

■When her husband came home for dinner Mrs. Storrie told him tile story. He shook his head iiioiiriifully. "The cheek o’ some folks’ no’ canny,” he observed. “Fancy thinkin’ that we had bought a clock when we have yin already."