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Ashburton Guardian, Volume I, Issue 8, 14 October 1879, Page 3

An Old Yarn. —A Scotch pedlar, without the remotest intention on his part of getting into a quarrel or fight with any man, had put up (with his pack) for the night at a country ale-house on the borders of Wales, where, as the fates would have it, he found in the kitchen of the inn a motley assemblage of not the most desirable companions, and among the rest a Welshman, whose aim from the very first seemed to be to get into hot water with poor Sawney. The latter, sagaciously appreciating the true character of his tormentor, and determined to get rid of him in the quietest way possible, told him that he “did not want to light.” This only excited to a still higher pitch the bravado of the Welshman, and he told the Scotchman “he would make him fight. ” “ Well,” said Sawney, “if I must fight, let me say my prayers first,” which the Welshman conceding, the Scotchman fell upon his knees and implored his Maker to pardon him for the “ twa men he had already killed, and for the one that was aboot to doe.” The Scotchman slowly rose from his knees, but the Welshman had made tracks.