My uncle had sent
out a quantity of Ayrshire cheeses, mutton hams, pickled salmon,
Dunfermline linens, Paisley dimity, Alloa worsted, sweet ale from
Tranent, Kilmarnock cowls, and a lot of fine feather-beds from the
Clydeside. There was nothing common or trashy in the whole consignment;
but the planters preferred some gewgaws from Cheapside or some worthless
London furs which they could have bettered any day by taking a gun and
hunting their own woods. When my own business was over, I would look on
at some of the other ladings. There on the wharf would be the planter
with his wife and family, and every servant about the place. And there
was the merchant skipper, showing off his goods, and quoting for each a
weight of tobacco. The planter wanted to get rid of his crop, and knew
that this was his only chance, while the merchant could very well sell
his leavings elsewhere. So the dice were cogged from the start, and I
have seen a plain kitchen chair sold for fifty pounds of sweet-scented,
or something like the price at which a joiner in Glasgow would make a
score and leave himself a handsome profit.
* * * * *
The upshot was that I paid a visit to the Governor, Mr. Francis
Nicholson, whom my lord Howard had left as his deputy.
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