"WHIPPING THE CAT."

Otago Witness, Issue 1911, 6 July 1888, Page 31

"WHIPPING THE CAT."

"Whipping the cat," or more'enigmatically " flogging pouss "—it' "is of tailors we must be understood to speak — was -simply a practice of goin^j from farm {own to farm town, even from cottar house to cottar house, aad there working for, arid' meanwhile messing and lodging with,' the inmates. It was doing work for people at their houses. -

During his professional perambulations the tailor was paid, not by the amount of work done by him, but by the length of time expended upon it. The common rate at which his lime was assessed in the early part of the century was eighteenpence a day, with bed and board in addition. He insisted on

being well lodged ab night. No barn or outhouse, such as served a gaberlunKie, for him. Snip had a soul above straw with a blanket spread over it, and bargained for the accomodation of a box-bed or fourposter; at the worst, a shakedown before the gathered fire. If, as once happened according to the old song, "he fell through the bed, thimbles ana ," it was doubtless from excess of desire on the host's part to treat him with a dignity answerable to his wishes, even to the ruin of the venerable relic to whioh he was at nightfall assigned. As for fare, lie lived like a fighting cock. He sat down to a breakfast of ham and eggs with tea, dear though the Chinese leaf then was, and expected a repetition of the same for the afternoon meal. He reckoned himself of a social rank at least equal to that of his employer, even if he were a bonnet laird, and a cut above the farmer who from custom or economy was content to blunt his appetite in a bowl of porridge. We have heard indeed of a tailor who was surprised into acceptance of a smoking brose caup for breakfast in an Ochil farmhouse, and who whistled away his chargin in the faith of a good dinner that would make amends, till mid-day bringing him only a renewal of the morning's fare, he lost all patience, and stopping his work and his whistling, demanded of the mistress whether she took him for a mavis that she offered him nothing but crowdie 1 But it was seldom that the tailor's menu was not to his liking. He was even of sufficient influence to change the established hour of dining in a farm town so as to make it square with his custom or convenience.

The tailor was on most intimate terms with the goodwife, and many a confidential crack they had alone together over the afternoon tea. Not only had he edifying talk on the subject of dress, female as well as male, but he carried news as a cadger carried eggs. He was of course a great gossip, and he was consciously possessed of that power which lodges with a man who has knowledge of the secrets of a countryside. His mode of life and the nature of his work not only permitted but positively compelled his accumulation of family histories.

The tailor's stay at any place was of course largely determined by the number of male members in the household. He stayed as long as there was work for him. The period varied from a day to "an eight days." As he was paid by the day, his hours were a matter of some consideration. They extended from 8 in the morning till 6, or, in some localities, 8 iv the evening. Besides three intervals for diet, he had discretionary powers for stretching his legs. During his working hours he was accommodated in the kitchen, usually aroomy apartment, or " ben" the house— that is, in the best room of a cottage. He sat suo more on a tabletop. Perched occasionally on the narrow disc of a round "claw table," he gave quite a picturesque effect to the room, looking like an l ndian idol set up for worship, or a nodding Chinese mandarin. It was a schoolboy's trick, but dangerous, and therefore rarely practised, to withdraw the pin of the table on which the tailor was squatted. The game was christened "Up goes Iroggiel" The game, it may be added, only began after f roggie had gone up. It sometimes continued long after that I

In the winter evenings, beautifully called in Scotland " the fore-nights," the tailor and his men were in all their glory atop of a large square table stationed against the long wall of the farm kitchen. Opposite them was the blazing hearth-fire which flooded bole and beam within and above the four corners with light. But candles were also provided for the tailors, one between every two of them. Field and outhouse work were over, and indoor domestic work was well over too. The maids were at leisure, and the ploughmen dropped in to look at the tailors, and to listen and laugh at the queer stories they were sure to tell. Then was the opportunity of the tailors. — Hugh Halibukton, in 11 Good Words."