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‘I wass never usin’ a pick, whatefer.’

‘Well, my man, I don’t know anything I can give you to do.’

LIGHT LABOUR

So Donald went away crestfallen. But being of an observing turn of mind, he walked along the rails, noting the work of each gang of labourers, until he came to a signal-box, wherein he saw a man seated, who came out now and then, waved a flag, and then resumed his seat. This appeared to Donald to be an occupation entirely after his own heart. He made enquiry of the man, ascertained his hours and his rate of pay, and returned to the contractor, who, when he saw him, good-naturedly asked:

‘What, back again, Donald? Have you found out what you can do?’

‘’Deed, I have, sir. I would just like to get auchteen shullins a week, and to do that’—holding out his arm and gently waving the stick he had in his hand.

A desire to select the lightest part of the work, however, is not peculiar to the Celtic nature, but comes out, strongly enough, sometimes, in the Lowlands, as was illustrated by the proposal of a quarryman to share the labour with a comrade. ‘If ye ram, Jamie,’ said he, ‘I’ll pech’; that is, if his friend would work the heavy iron sledge-hammer, he himself would give the puff or pant with which the workmen accompany each stroke they make.