O’SHAN. A could, misty, morning, and I am left here to keep watch without a drop of the cratur to cheer my heart or keep my spirits from sinking. There’s all the rest of them gone to catch the Pretender and get the prize-money, and it’s nothing that I’m likely to catch here but a cold. I wish that I had never left the tallow business, that I do, for all this murthering work. It was a lucky chance that we were a day too late for the fair at Culloden; it’s no fancy I have for the Highlanders’ dirks. Awful slashing work they made, ’tis said. Well-a-day! I must shoulder my gun; if the Corporal found me standing at ease, he would order me a round dozen: there’s no fear of it’s going off for its own accord, the cratur, for I forgot to load it this morning.