diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:46:33 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:46:33 -0700 |
| commit | a2e7c0174942a9ffae48fe7c2f0dd1a0d54de86f (patch) | |
| tree | 4c61f9a2cdffaf6a6a9e1fd5a7dd6f91e1ce09f1 /29030-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '29030-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 29030-h/29030-h.htm | 11664 |
1 files changed, 11664 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/29030-h/29030-h.htm b/29030-h/29030-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..37effc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/29030-h/29030-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11664 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume VI, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h6 { text-align: center; font-size: 3em; + clear: both; + } + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .notes {background-color: #dfdbdb; color: #000; padding: .5em; + margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + + .pagenum { visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .box { width: 600px; + margin: 0 auto; + text-align: center; + padding: 1em; + border-style: none; } + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + a { text-decoration: none; } + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of +Scotland, Volume VI, by Various, Edited by Alexander Leighton</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume VI</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Alexander Leighton</p> +<p>Release Date: June 3, 2009 [eBook #29030]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILSON'S TALES OF THE BORDERS AND OF SCOTLAND, VOLUME VI***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by David Clarke, Anne Storer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<p class="notes">Transcriber’s Note:<br /> +<br /> +In the THE ROTHESAY FISHERMAN, Charles’ brother +is referred to both as Harry and Henry on numerous occasions.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h6>Wilson’s<br /> +Tales of the Borders<br /> +<span style="font-size: smaller;">AND OF SCOTLAND</span>.</h6> + +<p> </p> + +<h3>HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.</h3> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><strong>WITH A GLOSSARY.</strong></p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p style="font-size: smaller;" class="center">REVISED BY</p> +<h2>ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,</h2> +<p style="font-size: smaller;" class="center">ONE OF THE ORIGINAL EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS.</p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><strong>Vol. VI.</strong></span></p> + +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p class="center"><strong>LONDON:</strong><br /> +<span style="font-size: smaller;"><strong>WALTER SCOTT, 14 PATERNOSTER SQUARE.</strong><br /> +AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.<br /> +1885.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary=""> + +<tr> <td align='left'></td> <td align='right'></td> <td align='right'>Page</td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Guidwife of Coldingham</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>John Mackay Wilson</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Surgeon’s Tales</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Alex. Leighton</em>)—</td> <td align='right'></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">The Somnambulist of Redcleugh</span>,</td> <td align='right'></td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Rothesay Fisherman</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Oliver Richardson</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">Leaves from the Diary of an Aged Spinster</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>John Mackay Wilson</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">Geordie Willison, and the Heiress of Castle Gower</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Alexander Leighton</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Snow Storm of 1825</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Alexander Campbell</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">Guilty, or Not Guilty</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Anon.</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Sergeant’s Tales</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>John Howell</em>)—</td> <td align='right'></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4em;" class="smcap">The Palantines</span>,</td> <td align='right'></td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Parsonage: My Father’s Fireside</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>Alexander Peterkin</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Seers’ Cave</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>William Hethrington, D.D.</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Laidley Worm of Spindleston Heugh</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>John Mackay Wilson</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> </tr> +<tr> <td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Sabbath Wrecks</span>,</td> <td align='right'>(<em>John Mackay Wilson</em>),</td> <td align='right'><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> </tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h2>WILSON’S</h2> +<h1>TALES OF THE BORDERS,</h1> +<h2><span class="smcap">and of scotland.</span></h2> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<h2>THE GUIDWIFE OF COLDINGHAM;</h2> +<p class="center"><strong>OR,</strong></p> +<p class="center"><strong>THE SURPRISE OF FAST CASTLE.</strong></p> + +<p>Near where St. Abb stretches, in massive strength, into the +sea, still terrible, even in ruins, may be seen the remains +of Fast Castle, one of the most interesting in its history—as +it is the most fearfully romantic in its situation—of all +the mouldering strongholds which are still to be traced +among the Borders, like monuments of war, crumbling +into nothingness beneath the silent but destroying touch +of time. After the death of the bluff Harry the Eighth of +England, who had long kept many of the corruptible +amongst the Scottish nobility and gentry in his pay, the +ambitious Somerset, succeeding to the office of guardian +of the young king, speedily, under the name of Protector, +acquired an authority nothing inferior to the power of an +absolute monarch. He had not long held the reins of +government when he rendered it evident, that it was a +part of his ambition to subdue Scotland, or the better +portion of it, into a mere province of England.</p> + +<p>The then governor of Scotland, Hamilton, Earl of Arran, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +(for Queen Mary was but a child,) was not ignorant of the +designs of Somerset, and every preparation was made to +repel him on his crossing the Borders. It was drawing +towards evening on the first of September, 1547, when +the Protector, at the head of an army of eighteen thousand +men, arrived at Berwick; and nearly at the same instant, +while the gloaming yet lay light and thin upon the sea, +a fleet, consisting of thirty-four vessels of war, thirty transports, +and a galley, were observed sailing round Emmanuel’s +head—the most eastern point of Holy Island. On the moment +that the fleet was perceived, St. Abb’s lighted up its +fires, throwing a long line of light along the darkening sea, +from the black shore to the far horizon: and scarce had +the first flame of its alarm-fire waved in the wind, till the +Dow Hill repeated the fiery signal; and, in a few minutes, +Domilaw, Dumprender, and Arthur’s Seat, exhibited tops +of fire as the night fell down on them, bearing the tidings, +as if lightnings flying on different courses revealed them, +through Berwickshire and the Lothians, and enabling +Roxburghshire and Fife to read the tale; while Binning’s +Craig, repeating the telegraphic fire, startled the burghers +of Linlithgow on the one hand, and on the other aroused +the men of Lanarkshire.</p> + +<p>Before, therefore, the vessels had arrived in the bay, or +the Protector’s army had encamped in the Magdalen Fields +around Berwick—Berwickshire, Roxburgh, the Lothians, +Fife, and Lanark were in arms. The cry from the hills +and in the glens was, “The enemy is come—the English—to +arms!” The shepherd drove his flocks to the inaccessible +places in the mountains; he threw down his crook +and grasped his spear.</p> + +<p>At the same time that Somerset crossed the Borders on +the east, the Earl of Lennox, who, from disappointed +ambition, had proved false to his country, entered it at the +head of another English army to the west.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +But I mean not to write a history of Somerset’s invasion—of +the plausible proposals which he made, and which +were rejected—nor of the advantages which the Scots, +through recklessness or want of discipline, flung away, +and of the disasters which followed. All the places of +strength upon the Borders fell into his hands, and he +garrisoned them from his army and set governors over +them. The first place of his attack was Fast Castle; in +which, after taking possession of it, he left a governor and +strong garrison, composed of English troops and foreign +mercenaries, causing also the people around, for their own +safety, to take to him an oath of fealty, renouncing their +allegiance to the young queen. But while there were +many who obeyed his command with reluctance, there +were others who chose rather to endanger or forfeit their +lives and property than comply with it. It had not, however, +been two years in the hands of the English, when, by +a daring and desperate act of courage, it was wrested from +them.</p> + +<p>A decree went forth from the English governor of the +castle, commanding them to bring into it, from time to +time, all necessary provisions for the use of the garrison, +for which they should receive broad money in return; for +Somerset and his chief officers—the Lord Grey and others—had +caused it to be published, that they considered the +inhabitants of that part of Scotland as the subjects of young +Edward, in common with themselves, and not as a people +with whom they were at war, or from whom their soldiers +might collect provisions and pay them with the sword.</p> + +<p>The English, indeed, paid liberally for whatsoever they +received; and there was policy in their so doing, for there +were not a few who preferred lucre to their country, and +the effigy of a prince upon a coin to allegiance to their +lawful monarch. But, while such obeyed with alacrity +the command of the governor of Fast Castle, to bring +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +provisions to his garrison, there were many others who +acquiesced in it reluctantly, and only obeyed from the +consciousness that disobedience would be the price of their +lives.</p> + +<p>At this period there dwelt in Coldingham a widow, +named Madge Gordon. She was a tall and powerful +woman, and her years might be a little below fifty. Daily +she indulged in invectives against the English, and spoke +contemptuously of the spirit of her countrymen in submitting +to the mandate of the governor of Fast Castle. +She had two cows and more than a score of poultry; but +she declared that she would spill the milk of the one upon +the ground every day, and throw the eggs of the other +over the cliffs, rather than that either the one or the other +should be taken through the gates of the castle while an +English garrison held it.</p> + +<p>Often, therefore, as Madge beheld her neighbours carrying +their baskets on their arms, their creels or sacks upon +their backs, or driving their horses, laden with provisions, +towards the castle, her wrath would rise against them, and +she was wont to exclaim—</p> + +<p>“O ye slaves!—ye base loun-hearted beasts o’ burden! +hoo lang will ye boo before the hand that strikes ye, or +kiss the foot that tramples on ye? Throw doun the provisions, +and gang hame and bring what they better deserve; +for, if ye will gie them bread, feed them on the point o’ +yer faithers’ spears.”</p> + +<p>Some laughed as Madge spoke; but her words sank deep +into the hearts of others; and a few answered—</p> + +<p>“Ye are as daft as ever, Madge; but a haveral woman’s +tongue is nae scandal, and ye ken that the governor winna +tak cognizance o’ ye.”</p> + +<p>“Me ken or care for him, ye spiritless coofs, ye!” she +replied; “gae tell him that Madge Gordon defies him and +a’ his men, as she despises you, and wad shake the dirt frae +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +her shoon at baith the ane and the other o’ ye. Shame fa’ +ye, ye degenerate, mongrel race! for, if ye had ae drap o’ +the bluid o’ the men in yer veins wha bled wi’ Wallace +and wi’ Bruce, before the sun gaed doun, the flag o’ bonny +Scotland wad wave frae the castle towers.”</p> + +<p>“Mother! mother!” said an interesting-looking girl of +nineteen, who had come to the door as the voice of Madge +waxed louder and more bitter—“dinna talk foolishly—ye +will bring us a’ into trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Trouble! ye silly lassie, ye!” rejoined Madge; “these +are times indeed to talk o’ the like o’ us being brought into +trouble, when our puir bluiding country is groaning beneath +the yoke o’ an enemy, and we see them harrying us +not only oot o’ hoose and ha’, but even those that should +be our protectors oot o’ their manhood! See,” added she, +“do ye see wha yon is, skulking as far as he can get frae +our door wi’ the weel-filled sack upon his shouthers? It +is yer ain dearie, Florence Wilson! O the betrayer o’ his +country!—He’s a coward, Janet, like the rest o’ them, and +shall ne’er ca’ ye his wife while I live to ca’ ye daughter.”</p> + +<p>“O mother!” added the maiden, in a low and agitated +voice—“what could poor Florence do? It isna wi’ a man +body as it is wi’ the like o’ us. If he didna do as the lave +do, he wad be informed against, and he maun obey or die!”</p> + +<p>“Let him die, then, as a man, as a Scotchman!” said the +stern guidwife of Coldingham.</p> + +<p>Florence Wilson, of whom Madge had spoken, was a +young man of three or four and twenty, and who then held, +as his fathers had done before him, sheep lands under the +house of Home. He was one of those who obeyed reluctantly +the command of the governor to bring provisions to +the garrison; and, until the day on which Madge beheld +him with the sack upon his shoulders, he had resisted +doing so. But traitors had whispered the tale of his stubbornness +and discontent in the castle; and, in order to save +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +himself and his flocks, he that day took a part of his substance +to the garrison. He had long been the accepted of +Janet Gordon; and the troubles of the times alone prevented +them, as the phrase went, from “commencing house +together.” He well knew the fierce and daring patriotism +of his intended mother-in-law, and he took a circuitous +route, in order to avoid passing her door, laden with a +burden of provisions for the enemy. But, as has been +told, she perceived him.</p> + +<p>In the evening, Florence paid his nightly visit to Janet.</p> + +<p>“Out! out! ye traitor!” cried Madge, as she beheld him +crossing her threshold; “the shadow of a coward shall +ne’er fall on my floor while I hae a hand to prevent it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m nae coward, guidwife,” retorted Florence indignantly.</p> + +<p>“Nae coward!” she rejoined; “what are ye, then? Did +not I, this very day, wi’ my ain een, behold ye skulking, +and carrying provisions to the enemy!”</p> + +<p>“Ye might,” said Florence; “but ae man canna tak a +castle, nor drive frae it five hundred enemies. Bide ye +yet. Foolhardy courage isna manhood; and, had mair +prudence and caution, and less confidence, been exercised +by our army last year, we wouldna hae this day to mourn +owre the battle o’ Pinkie. I tell ye, therefore, again, just +bide ye yet.”</p> + +<p>“Come in, Florence,” said Madge; “draw in a seat and +sit doun, and tell me what ye mean.”</p> + +<p>“Hoots, Florence,” said Janet, in a tone partaking of +reproach and alarm, “are ye gaun to be as daft as my +mother? What matters it to us wha’s king or wha’s queen?—it +will be lang or either the ane or the ither o’ them do +onything for us. When ye see lords and gentry in the +pay o’ England, and takin its part, what can the like o’ +you or my mother do?”</p> + +<p>“Do! ye chicken-hearted trembler at yer ain shadow!” +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +interrupted Madge; “though somewhat past its best, I +hae an arm as strong and healthy as the best o’ them, +and the blood that runs in it is as guid as the proudest o’ +them.”</p> + +<p>Now, the maiden name of Madge was Home; and when +her pride was touched, it was her habit to run over the +genealogical tree of her father’s family, which she could +illustrate upon her fingers, beginning on all occasions—“I +am, and so is every Home in Berwickshire, descended +frae the Saxon kings o’ England and the first Earls o’ +Northumberland.” Thus did she run on, tracing their +descent from Crinan, chief of the Saxons in the north of +England, to Maldredus, his son, who married Algatha, +daughter of Uthred, prince of Northumberland, and grand-daughter +of Ethelrid, king of England; and from Maldredus +to his son Cospatrick, of whose power William the Conqueror +became jealous, and who was, therefore, forced to +fly into Scotland in the year 1071, where Malcolm Canmore +bestowed on him the manor of Dunbar, and many +baronies in Berwickshire. Thus did she notice three other +Cospatricks, famous and mighty men in their day, each +succeeding Cospatrick the son of his predecessor; and after +them a Waldreve, and a Patrick, whose son, William, marrying +his cousin, he obtained with her the lands of Home, +and, assuming the name, they became the founders of the +clan. From the offspring of the cousin, the male of whom +took the name of Sir William Home, and from him through +eleven other successors, down to George, the fourth Lord +Home, who had fallen while repelling the invasion of +Somerset a few months before, did Madge trace the roots, +shoots, and branches of her family, carrying it back through +a period of more than six hundred years; and she glowed, +therefore, with true aristocratic indignation at the remark +of her daughter to Florence—“What can the like o’ you +or my mother do?” And she concluded her description of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +her genealogical tree by saying—“Talk noo the like o’ yer +mother, hizzy!”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, mother,” said Janet, mildly—“that may a’ be; +but there is nae cause for you fleeing into a tift upon the +matter, for nae harm was meant. I only dinna wish Florence +to be putting his life in jeopardy for neither end nor +purpose. I’m sure I wish that oor nobility would keep to +their bargain, and allow the queen, though she is but a +lassie yet, to be married to young king Edward, and then +we might hae peace in the land, and ither folk would be +married as weel as them.”</p> + +<p>“We shall be married, Janet, my doo,” said Florence, +gazing on her tenderly—“only ye bide a wee.”</p> + +<p>Now, it must not be thought that Janet loved her +country less than did her mother or her betrothed husband; +but, while the land of blue mountains was dear to her +heart, Florence Wilson was yet more dear; and it was only +because they were associated with thoughts of him that +they became as a living thing, as a voice and as music in +her bosom. For, whence comes our fondness for the woods, +the mountains, the rivers of nativity, but from the fond +remembrances which their associations conjure up, and the +visions which they recall to the memory of those who were +dear to us, but who are now far from us, or with the dead? +We may have seen more stupendous mountains, nobler +rivers, and more stately woods—but they were not <em>ours</em>! +They were not the mountains, the rivers, and the woods, +by which we played in childhood, formed first friendships, +or breathed love’s tender tale in the ear of her who was +beautiful as the young moon or the evening star, which +hung over us like smiles of heaven; nor were they the +fountains, the woods, and the rivers, near which our +kindred, the flesh of our flesh, and the bone of our bone, +<span class="smcap">sleep</span>! But I digress.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Florence,” said Madge, “what mean ye by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +‘bide a wee?’ Is there a concerted project amongst ony +o’ ye, an’ are ye waiting for an opportunity to carry it into +effect?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered he, “I canna say as how we hae devised +ony practicable scheme o’ owrecoming our oppressors +as yet; but there are hundreds o’ us ready to draw our +swords an’ strike, on the slightest chance o’ success offering—and +the chance may come.”</p> + +<p>“An’ amongst the hundreds o’ hands ye speak o’,” returned +Madge, “is there no a single head that can plot an’ +devise a plan to owrecome an’ drive our persecutors frae +the castle?”</p> + +<p>“I doot it—at least I hae ne’er heard ony feasible-like +plan proposed,” said Florence, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>Madge sat thoughtful for a few minutes, her chin resting +on her hand. At length she inquired—“When go ye back +to sell provisions to them again?”</p> + +<p>“This day week,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Then I shall tak my basket wi’ eggs an’ butter, an’ gae +wi’ ye,” answered Madge.</p> + +<p>“O mother! what are ye sayin?” cried Janet. “Ye +maun gang nae sic gate. I ken yer temper would flare up +the moment ye heard a word spoken against Scotland, or +a jibe broken on it; an’ there is nae tellin’ what might be +the consequence.”</p> + +<p>“Leave baith the action an’ the consequence to me, Janet, +my woman,” said the patriotic mother; “as I brew, I will +drink. But ye hae naething to fear; I will be as mim in +the castle as ye wad be if gieing Florence yer hand in the +kirk.”</p> + +<p>The day on which the people were again to carry provisions +to the garrison in Fast Castle arrived; and to the +surprize of every one, Madge, with a laden basket on each +arm, mingled amongst them. Many marvelled, and the +more mercenary said—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +“Ay, ay!—Madge likes to turn the penny as weel as +ither folk. The English will hae guid luck if ony o’ them +get a bargain oot o’ her baskets.”</p> + +<p>She, therefore, went to the castle, bearing provisions +with the rest of the peasantry; but, under pretence of +disposing of her goods to the best advantage, she went +through and around the castle, and quitted it not until +she had ascertained where were its strongest, where its +weakest points of defence, and in what manner it was +guarded.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, Florence Wilson again visited her +dwelling, she addressed him, saying—</p> + +<p>“Noo, I hae seen oor enemies i’ the heart o’ their +strength; an’ I hae a word to say to ye that will try yer +courage, and the courage o’ the hunders o’ guid men an’ +true that ye hae spoken o’ as only bidin’ their time to +strike. Noo, is it yer opinion that, between Dunglass an’ +Eyemouth, ye could gather a hundred men willing an’ +ready to draw the sword for Scotland’s right, an’ to drive +the invaders frae Fast Castle, if a feasible plan were laid +before them?”</p> + +<p>“I hae nae doot o’t,” replied he.</p> + +<p>“Doots winna do,” said she; “will ye try it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said he.</p> + +<p>“Florence, ye <em>shall</em> be my son,” added she, taking his +hand—“I see there is spirit in ye yet.”</p> + +<p>“Mother,” said Janet earnestly, “what dangerous errand +is this ye wad set him upon?—what do ye think it could +matter to me wha was governor o’ Fast Castle, if Florence +should meet his death in the attempt?”</p> + +<p>“Wheesht! ye silly lassie, ye,” replied her mother; +“had I no borne ye, I wad hae said that ye hadna a drap +o’ my bluid i’ yer veins. What is’t that ye fear? If they’ll +abide by my counsel, though it may try their courage, +oor purpose shall be accomplished wi’ but little scaith.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +“Neither fret nor fear, dear,” said Florence, addressing +Janet; “I hae a hand to defend my head, an’ a guid +sword to guard baith.” Then turning to her mother, he +added—“An’ what may be yer plan, that I may communicate +it to them that I ken to be zealous in oor country’s +cause?”</p> + +<p>“Were I to tell ye noo,” said she, “that ye might communicate +it to them, before we were ready to put it into +execution, the story wad spread frae the Tweed to John o’ +Groat’s, and frae St. Abb’s to the Solway, and our designs +be prevented. Na, lad, my scheme maun be laid before a’ +the true men that can be gathered together at the same +moment, an’ within a few hours o’ its being put in execution. +Do ye ken the dark copse aboon Houndwood, where +there is a narrow and crooked opening through the tangled +trees, but leading to a bit o’ bonny green sward, where a +thousand men might encamp unobserved?”</p> + +<p>“I do,” answered Florence.</p> + +<p>“And think ye that ye could assemble the hundred men +ye speak o’ there, on this night fortnight?”</p> + +<p>“I will try,” replied he.</p> + +<p>“Try, then,” added she, “and I will meet ye there before +the new moon sink behind the Lammermoors.”</p> + +<p>It was a few days after this that Madge was summoned +to the village of Home, to attend the funeral of a relative; +and while she was yet there, the castle of her ancestors +was daringly wrested from the hands of the Protector’s +troops, by an aged kinsman of her own, and a handful of +armed men. The gallant deed fired her zeal more keenly, +and strengthened her resolution to wrest Fast Castle from +the hands of the invaders. She had been detained at Home +until the day on which Florence Wilson was to assemble +the stout-hearted and trust-worthy in the copse above +Houndwood. Her kindred would have detained her longer; +but she resisted their entreaties, and took leave of them +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +saying, that “her bit lassie, Janet, would be growing irksome +wi’ being left alane, an’ that, at ony rate, she had +business on hand that couldna be delayed.”</p> + +<p>She proceeded direct to the place of rendezvous, without +going onwards to her own house; and, as she drew near +the narrow opening which led to the green space in the +centre of the dark copse, the young moon was sinking +behind the hills. As she drew cautiously forward she +heard the sound of voices, which gradually became audible.</p> + +<p>“Well, Florence,” said one, “what are ye waiting for? +Where is the grand project that ye was to lay before us?”</p> + +<p>“Florence,” said others, “let us proceed to business. +It is gaun to be very dark, and ye will remember we have +to gang as far as the Peaths<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> the night yet.”</p> + +<p>Florence answered as one perplexed, but in his wonted +words—“Hae patience—bide a wee;” and added, in a +sort of soliloquy, but loud enough to be overheard by his +companions—“She promised to be here before the moon +gaed down upon the Lammermoors.”</p> + +<p>“Wha did?—wha promised to be here?” inquired half +a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>“I did!” cried Madge, proudly, as she issued from the +narrow aperture in the copse, and her tall figure was revealed +by the fading moonbeams. With a stately step, she +walked into the midst of them, and gazed round as though +the blood and dignity of all the Homes had been centred +in her own person.</p> + +<p>“Weel, Madge,” inquired they, “and, since ye are come, +for what hae ye brought us here?”</p> + +<p>“To try,” added she, “whether, inheriting, as ye do, +yer faithers’ bluid, ye also inherit their spirit—to see +whether ye hae the manhood to break the yoke o’ yer +oppressors, or if ye hae the courage to follow the example +which the men o’ Home set ye the other nicht.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +“What have they done?” inquired Florence.</p> + +<p>“Hearken,” said she, “ane and a’ o’ ye, and I will tell +ye; for, wi’ my ain een, I beheld a sicht that was as joyfu’ +to me as the sight o’ a sealed pardon to a condemned criminal. +Ye weel ken that, for near twa years, the English +have held Home Castle, just as they still hold Fast Castle, +beside us. Now, it was the other nicht, and just as the +grey gloam was darkening the towers, that an auld kinsman +o’ mine, o’ the name o’ Home, scaled the walls where they +were highest, strongest, and least guarded; thirty gallant +countrymen had accompanied him to their foot, but before +they could follow his example, he was perceived by a sentinel, +wha shouted out—‘To arms!—to arms!’ ‘Cower, +lads, cower!’ said my auld kinsman, in a sort o’ half whisper, +to his followers; and he again descended the wall, and they +lay down, with their swords in their hands, behind some +whin bushes at the foot o’ the battlements. There was +running, clanking, and shouting through the castle for a +time; but, as naething like the presence o’ an enemy was +either seen or heard, the sentry that had raised the alarm +was laughed at, and some gaed back to their beds, and +others to their wine. But, after about two hours, and +when a’thing was again quiet, my kinsman and his followers +climbed the walls, and, rushing frae sentinel to sentinel, +they owrecam ane after anither before they could gie the +alarm to the garrison in the castle; and, bursting into it, +shouted—‘Hurra!—Scotland and Home for ever!’ Panic +seized the garrison; some started frae their sleep—others +reeled frae their cups—some grasped their arms—others +ran, they knew not where—but terror struck the hearts o’ +ane and a’; and still, as the cry, ‘Scotland and Home for +ever!’ rang frae room to room, and was echoed through +the lang high galleries, it seemed like the shouting o’ a +thousand men; and, within ten minutes, every man in the +garrison was made prisoner or put to the sword! And +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +noo, neebors, what my kinsman and a handfu’ o’ countrymen +did for the deliverance o’ the Castle o’ Home, can ye +not do for Fast Castle, or will ye not—and so drive every +invader oot o’ Berwickshire?”</p> + +<p>“I dinna mean to say, Madge,” answered one, who appeared +to be the most influential personage amongst her +auditors—“I dinna mean to say but that your relation +and his comrades hae performed a most noble and gallant +exploit—one that renders them worthy o’ being held in +everlasting remembrance by their countrymen—and glad +would I be if we could this night do the same for Fast +Castle. But, woman, the thing is impossible; the cases +are not parallel. It mightna be a difficult matter to scale +the highest part o’ the walls o’ Home Castle, and ladders +could easily be got for that purpose; but, at Fast Castle, +wi’ the draw-brig up, and the dark, deep, terrible chasm +between you and the walls, like the bottomless gulf +between time and eternity!—I say, again, for my part, the +thing is impossible. Wha has strength o’ head, even for +a moment, to look doun frae the dark and dizzy height o’ +the Wolf’s Crag?—and wha could think o’ scaling it? +Even if it had been possible, the stoutest heart that ever +beat in a bosom would, wi’ the sickening horror o’ its +owner’s situation, before he was half-way up, be dead as +the rocks that would dash him to pieces as he fell! Na, +na, I should hae been glad to lend a helping and a willing +hand to ony practicable plan, but it would be madness to +throw away our lives where there couldna be the slightest +possibility o’ success.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Madge; “I ken what is possible, and +what is impossible, as weel as ony o’ ye. I meant that ye +should tak for example the dauntless spirit o’ my kinsman +and the men o’ Home, and no their manner o’ entering the +castle. But, if yer hearts beat as their hearts did, before +this hour the morn’s nicht, the invaders will be driven frae +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +Fast Castle. In the morning we are ordered to take provisions +to the garrison. I shall be wi’ ye, and in the front o’ +ye. But, though my left arm carries a basket, beneath +my cloak shall be hidden the bit sword which my guidman +wore in the wars against King Harry; and, as I reach the +last sentinel—‘Now, lads! now for Scotland and our +Queen!’ I shall cry; and wha dare follow my example?”</p> + +<p>“I dare! I will!” said Florence Wilson, “and be at yer +side to strike doun the sentinel; and sure am I that there +isna a man here that winna do or die, and drive oor enemies +frae the castle, or leave his body within its wa’s for +them to cast into the sea. Every man o’ us, the morn, +will enter the castle wi’ arms concealed about him, and +hae them ready to draw and strike at a moment’s warning. +Ye canny say, freends, but that this is a feasible plan, +and ye winna be outdone in bravery by a woman. Do ye +agree to it?”</p> + +<p>There were cries of—“Yes, Florence, yes!—every man +o’ us!”—and “It is an excellent plan—it is only a pity that +it hadna been thocht o’ suner,” resounded on all sides; but +“Better late than never,” said others.</p> + +<p>“Come round me, then,” said Madge; and they formed +a circle around her. “Ye swear now,” she continued, “in +the presence o’ Him who see’th through the darkness o’ +night and searcheth the heart, that nane o’ ye will betray +to oor enemies what we hae this nicht determined on; but +that every man o’ ye will, the morn, though at the price +o’ his life, do yer utmost to deliver oor groaning country +frae the yoke o’ its invaders and oppressors! This ye +swear?”</p> + +<p>And they bowed their heads around her.</p> + +<p>“Awa, then,” added she, “ilka man to his ain hoose, +and get his weapons in readiness.” And, leaving the copse, +they proceeded in various directions across the desolate +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +moor. But Florence Wilson accompanied Madge to her +dwelling; and, as they went, she said—</p> + +<p>“Florence, if ye act as weel the morn as ye hae spoken +this nicht, the morn shall my dochter, Janet, be yer wife, +wi’ a fu’ purse for her portion that neither o’ ye kens +aboot.”</p> + +<p>He pressed her hand in the fulness of his heart; but she +added—</p> + +<p>“Na, na, Florence, I’m no a person that cares aboot a +fuss being made for the sake o’ gratitude—thank me wi’ +deeds. Remember I have said—a’ depends on yer conduct +the morn.”</p> + +<p>When they entered the house, poor Janet was weeping, +because of her mother’s absence, for she had expected her +for two days; and her apprehensions were not removed +when she saw her in the company of Florence, who, +although her destined husband, and who, though he had +long been in the habit of visiting her daily, had called but +once during her mother’s absence, and then he was sad +and spoke little. She saw that her parent had prevailed +on him to undertake some desperate project, and she wept +for his sake.</p> + +<p>When he arose to depart, she rose also and accompanied +him to the door.</p> + +<p>“Florence,” said she, tenderly, “you and my mother hae +some secret between ye, which ye winna communicate to +me.”</p> + +<p>“A’ that is a secret between us,” said he, “is, that she +consents that the morn ye shall be my winsome bride, if ye +be willing, as I’m sure ye are; and that is nae secret that I +wad keep frae ye; but I didna wish to put ye aboot by +mentioning it before her.”</p> + +<p>Janet blushed, and again added—</p> + +<p>“But there is something mair between ye than that, +Florence, and why should ye hide it frae me?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +“Dear me, hinny!” said he, “I wonder that ye should +be sae apprehensive. There is nae secret between yer +mother an’ me that isna weel-kenned to every ane in the +country-side. But just ye hae patience—bide a wee—wait +only till the morn; and, when I come to lead ye afore the +minister, I’ll tell ye a’thing then.”</p> + +<p>“An’ wherefore no tell me the noo, Florence?” said she. +“I am sure that there is something brewing, an’ a dangerous +something too. Daur ye no trust me? Ye may think +me a weak an’ silly creature; but, if I am not just so rash +and outspoken as my mother, try me if I haena as stout a +heart when there is a necessity for showing it.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, Janet, dear,” said Florence, “I winna conceal +frae ye that there is something brewing—but what that +something is I am not at liberty to tell. I am bound by +an oath not to speak o’t, and so are a hunder others, as +weel as me. But the morn it will be in my power to tell +ye a’. Noo, just be ye contented, and get ready for our +wedding.”</p> + +<p>“And my mother kens,” Janet was proceeding to say, +when her mother’s voice was heard, crying from the +house—</p> + +<p>“Come in, Janet—what are ye doing oot there in the +cauld?—ye hae been lang enough wi’ Florence the nicht—but +the morn’s nicht ye may speak to him as lang as ye +like. Sae come in, lassie.”</p> + +<p>As the reader may suppose, Madge was not one whose +commands required to be uttered twice; and, with a troubled +heart, Janet bade Florence “good-night,” and returned +to the cottage.</p> + +<p>It was a little after sunrise on the following day, when a +body of more than a hundred peasantry, agreeably to the +command of the governor, appeared before the castle, laden +with provisions. Some of them had the stores which they +had brought upon the backs of horses, but which they +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +placed upon their own shoulders as they approached the +bridge. Amongst them were fishermen from Eyemouth +and Coldingham, shepherds from the hills with slaughtered +sheep, millers, and the cultivators of the patches of arable +ground beyond the moor. With them, also, were a few +women carrying eggs, butter, cheese, and poultry; and at +the head of the procession (for the narrowness of the drawbridge +over the frightful chasm, beyond which the castle +stood, caused the company to assume the form of a procession +as they entered the walls) was Madge Gordon, and +her intended son-in-law, Florence Wilson.</p> + +<p>The drawbridge had been let down to them; the last of +the burden-bearers had crossed it; and Madge had reached +the farthest sentinel, when suddenly dropping her basket, +out from beneath her grey cloak gleamed the sword of her +dead husband!</p> + +<p>“Now, lads!—now for Scotland and our Queen!” she +exclaimed, and as she spoke, the sword in her hand +pierced the body of the sentinel. At the same instant +every man cast his burden to the ground, a hundred +hidden swords were revealed, and every sentinel was overpowered.</p> + +<p>“Forward, lads! forward!” shouted Madge.</p> + +<p>“Forward!” cried Florence Wilson, with his sword in +his hand, leading the way. They rushed into the interior +of the castle; they divided into bands. Some placed themselves +before the arsenal where arms were kept, while +others rushed from room to room, making prisoners of +those of the garrison who yielded willingly, and showing no +quarter to those who resisted. Many sought safety in +flight, some flying half-naked, aroused from morning dreams +after a night’s carouse, and almost all fled without weapons +of defence. The effect upon the garrison was as if a thunderbolt +had burst in the midst of them. Within half an +hour, Fast Castle was in the hands of the peasantry, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +the entire soldiery who had defended it had either fled, +were slain, or made prisoners.</p> + +<p>Besides striking the first blow, Madge had not permitted +the sword of her late husband to remain idle in her hands +during the conflict. And, as the conquerors gathered +round Florence Wilson, to acknowledge to him that to +his counsel, presence of mind, and courage, as their leader, +in the midst of the confusion that prevailed, they owed +their victory, and the deliverance of the east of Berwickshire +from its invaders, Madge pressed forward, and, presenting +him her husband’s sword, said—</p> + +<p>“Tak this, my son, and keep it—it was the sword o’ a +brave man, and to a brave man I gie it—and this night +shall ye be my son indeed.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, mother—mother!” said Florence. And +as he spoke a faint smile crossed his features.</p> + +<p>But scarce had he taken the sword in his hand, ere a +voice was heard, crying—</p> + +<p>“Where is he?—where shall I find him?—does he live?—where +is my mother?”</p> + +<p>“Here, love!—here! It is my Janet!” cried Florence; +but his voice seemed to fail him as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Come here, my bairn,” cried her mother, “and in the +presence of these witnesses receive a hand that ye may be +proud o’.”</p> + +<p>As part of the garrison fled through Coldingham, Janet +had heard of the surprise by which the castle had been +taken, and ran towards it to gather tidings of her mother +and affianced husband; for she now knew the secret which +they would not reveal to her.</p> + +<p>As she rushed forward, the crowd that surrounded Florence +gave way, and, as he moved forward to meet her, +it was observed that he shook or staggered as he went; +but it was thought no more of; and when she fell upon +his bosom, and her mother took their hands and pressed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +them together, the multitude burst into a shout and blessed +them. He strove to speak—he muttered the word “Janet!” +but his arms fell from her neck, and he sank as lifeless on +the ground.</p> + +<p>“Florence! my Florence!—he is wounded—murdered!” +cried the maiden, and she flung herself beside him on the +ground.</p> + +<p>Madge and the spectators endeavoured to raise him; but +his eyes were closed; and, as he gasped, they with difficulty +could understand the words he strove to utter—“Water—water!”</p> + +<p>He had, indeed, been wounded—mortally wounded—but +he spoke not of it. They raised him in their arms and +carried him to an apartment in the castle; but, ere they +reached it, the spirit of Florence Wilson had fled.</p> + +<p>Poor Janet clung to his lifeless body. She now +cried—“Florence!—Florence!—we shall be married +to-night?—yes!—yes!—I have everything ready!” And again she +spoke bitter words to her mother, and said that she had +murdered her Florence. The spectators lifted her from +his body, and Madge stood as one on whom affliction, in +the midst of her triumph, had fallen as a palsy, depriving +her of speech and action.</p> + +<p>“My poor bereaved bairn!” she at length exclaimed; +and she took her daughter in her arms and kissed her—“ye +hae indeed cause to mourn, for Florence was a noble +lad!—but, oh, dinna say it was my doing, hinny!—dinna +wyte yer mother!—will ye no, Janet? It is a great comfort +that Florence has died like a hero.”</p> + +<p>But Janet never was herself again. She became, as their +neighbours said, a poor, melancholy, maundering creature, +going about talking of her Florence and the surprise of +Fast Castle, and ever ending her story—“But I maun awa +hame and get ready, for Florence and I are to be married +the nicht.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +Madge followed her, mourning, wheresoever she went, +bearing with and soothing all her humours. But she had +not long to bear them; for, within two years, Janet was +laid by the side of Florence Wilson, in Coldingham kirkyard; +and, before another winter howled over their peaceful +graves, Madge lay at rest beside them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SURGEON’S TALES.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE SOMNAMBULIST OF REDCLEUGH.</strong></p> + + +<p>It is now many years since I visited a patient, at the distance +of some sixty miles from the proper circuit of my +practice. On one occasion, when with him, I received a +letter from a gentleman, who subscribed himself as one of +the trustees of Mr. Bernard<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> of Redcleugh, requesting me +to visit, on my return home, the widow of that gentleman, +who still resided in the old mansion, and whose mind had +received a shock from some domestic affliction, any allusion +to which was, for some reason, very specially reserved. I +may remark, that I believe I owed this application to some +opinions I was known to entertain on the subject of that +species of insanity produced by moral causes, and which is +to be carefully distinguished from the diathetic mania, so +often accompanied by pathological changes in the brain. +It is scarcely necessary to inform the reader, that we have +always a better chance for a cure in the one case than in +the other, insomuch indeed as, in the first, we have merely +functional derangement; in the second, organic change. +I always maintain there is no interest about insane people, +except to the man of science; and even he very soon gets +to that “ass’s bridge,” on the other side of which Nature, +as the genius of occult things, stands with a satirical smile +on her face, as she sees the proud savans toppling over into +the Lethe of sheer ignorance, and getting drowned for their +insane curiosity. In the asylum in France, mentioned by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +De Vayer, the inmates enjoyed exceedingly the imputed +madness of the visiting physician. The same play is acted +in the world all throughout. Our insanity has only a little +more method in it—and while I avoid any description of +the madness of Mrs. Bernard, I will have to set forth a +story, which, leading to that madness, has in it apparently +as much of insanity as may be found in the ravings of a +maniac.</p> + +<p>I obeyed the call to Redcleugh, where I found the <em>res +domi</em> in a peculiar position. There were few inmates in +the large old house. Besides the invalid herself, there was +an old cook and a butler, by name Francis, who had been +in the family for many years, and whose garrulity was +supplied from an inexhaustible fountain—the fate and fortunes +of the Bernards. My patient was a lovely woman +in body—a maniac in mind. Her affliction had suddenly +shot up into her brain, and left untouched the lineaments +of her beauty, excepting the expression of the eye, which +had become nervous and furtive, oscillating between the +extreme of softness and the intensity of ferocity. Having +been cautioned by Francis to make no allusion to her +husband or to certain children, whom he named, or to the +word “book,” and many other things, I contented myself, +in the first instance, with a general examination of her +symptoms; and, as it was late before I arrived, I resolved +upon remaining all night, which would enable me to see +her again in the morning. I had supper served up to me +by Francis, who brought me some wine which had been in +the house for fifty years, and told me stories of the family, +extending back twice that period. Sometimes these old +legends would be interrupted for a moment by a shrill cry, +coming from a source which we both knew. All else in +this house was under the spell of Angerana, the genius of +silence. There is something peculiar in the sound of a +common voice in a large house, filled with memorials of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +those who had lived in it, and yet with no living sounds to +break the dull heavy air, which seems to thicken by not +being moved. It appeared as if I had been suddenly +thrown into a region of romance, but my experiences were +not pleasant. I wished to escape to my own professional +thoughts again, and desired to go to bed.</p> + +<p>I was accordingly, not without some efforts on the part +of my entertainer to prolong his stories, ushered into my +bed-room—a large apartment, hung with pictures, some +very old, and some very new. Francis put the candle +down, and left me. It was not long before I was undressed +and under the bed-clothes; but not being sure about sleeping, +I left the candle burning, intending to rise and extinguish +it when I found myself more inclined to fall over +into the rest I required. The old legends began to pass +through my mind, and I was engrossed with the spirit of +the past. Time makes poetry out of very common things, +and then we are to remember, what we do not often think +of, that the most ordinary life cannot be passed without +encountering some incidents which smack of the romantic. +Nay, every man’s life, as a bright gleam thrown on the +dark abyss which separates him from eternity, is all through +a romance, in the midst of that greater one, seen by us +only as shadows—the negatives of some positives, perhaps, +witnessed by eyes on the other side. I have always been +tinged by something of the spirit of old Bruno, that +dreamer, whose most real realities were no other than +umbery forms—flakes of shadow—cast off by a central +light from the real objects, of which we are the mere +shadowy representatives. All the breathing, throbbing, +active beings, who for two hundred years had run along +these narrow passages of the old house, and peered into +half-open doors, or out of the small skew-topped windows—danced, +sang, laughed and wept—died, and been carried +out—were to each other as such umbery things; and I, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +the present subsisting shadow, received them all into my +living microcosm, where, as in a mirror, they existed again, +scarcely less shadowy than before.</p> + +<p>Somehow or another I could not get to sleep; not that +I had any fears: these were out of the question with me. +My vigils were attributable to a fancy, wrought upon by +the recitals of the old butler, illustrated by the very concrete +things which had been used by the personages he +described. There were the chairs they sat on, the beds +they slept on, the piano they played on, all as they had +been left. It was impossible for me to conceive that there +was yet no connection between these things and the old +family. The pictures, too, were still there, in the various +rooms, some of them in my bed-room. The light of my +eyes seemed to have disenchanted these silent staring personages. +They came forth and occupied themselves as +they had been wont before they became pictures. The +chair of the first of the late Mr. Bernard’s two wives—that +“angel whose look was an eternal smile,” as Francis poetically +described her—appeared to have the power of drawing +her down into it; but then the attraction was not less +for the second wife, “whose fate was a terrible mystery;” +and thus would I get confused. Then, to which of these +did the little dark fellow on the south wall belong—he who +seemed to have been scorched by too strong a sun—and +the girl beside them, who looked as if she had been +blanched by too bright a moon—which of the two was her +mother?</p> + +<p>At last I got out of bed, and rummaged for some stray +volume to disenchant me out of the imaginary world of +these Bernards. I drew out one or two drawers, which +had been so long shut that they had lost their allegiance +to the hand. I peered into an escritoire, and another old +cabinet, which creaked and groaned at being disturbed by a +hand not a Bernard’s. All was empty. There was one +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +drawer which refused to come out to the full extent. Something +seemed to be jammed between it and the back of the +escritoire. Man is an enterprising animal; a little resistance +sets his energies a-spring. I would not be baulked. +I would know what the impediment was and work out the +solution of the difficulty. By pulling hard the obstacle +gave way. The drawer followed my hand, while my body +fell back on the floor. Psha! some stray leaves of an old +pamphlet fluttered about. I had dismembered the obstacle, +and would now collect the fragments. I had got +for my pains an old brochure, embellished by dreadful +woodcuts, of the old Newgate calender style, and entitled, +“The true and genuine history of the murderer, +Jane Grierson, who poisoned her mistress, and thereby +became the wife of her master, Josiah Temple;” the date +1742. I was no fancier of awful histories of murderers, +yet I would read myself asleep amidst horrors rather than +lie with my imagination in wakeful subjugation to the +images of these eternal Bernards. Bernard still! on the +top of the title page was written “Amelia Bernard.” The +charm was here too. Which of these fair creatures on +the wall was the proprietor of this brochure? She had +read it surely with care. She must have cherished it, or +why identify it as her own? Perhaps she was a lover of old +books; it could not be that she was a lover of cruel stories. +Those eyes were made for throwing forth the lambent +light of affection and love; how unlike to the staring +blood-shot orbs of that Jane Grierson on that terrific woodcut! +Yet, true to the nature of my species, at least my +sex, I found in the grim pamphlet that inexpressible something +which recommends coarse recitals of human depravity +even to cultivated minds, and which consists probably in +the conformity between the thing itself and the description +of it; the rugged words, semblances of the rugged implements, +and the savage actions of cruelty, address themselves +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +to the latent barbarism which lies as the lowest stratum of +our many piled nature, and receive the savage response at +the moment we blush for humanity. These dire images +of the murderer’s story were stronger than those of the +Bernards—even of those lovely faces on the wall—and as +the candle burned down, and the red wick grew up, I read +and read on, how the cruel fiend did destroy while she +fawned upon her victim; how that victim, overcome by +the kindness of her enemy, praised her to her husband, +who loved his wife to distraction; and how she, even in +her devoted gratitude, recommended her murderer as her +successor to the bed she lay on, and to those arms where +she so often had enjoyed the pressure of his love. Nor +was the recommendation ineffectual, for the said wicked +Jane did become the wife of her victim’s husband. The +old horrid savagery of our criminal literature!—not yet +abated—never to be abated—only glossed with tropes and +figures more hideous than the plain narrative of blood.</p> + +<p>It was a vain thought that I should read myself asleep +among the terrible images suggested by my brochure. I +was even more vigilant than before. Then, that Francis +seemed never at rest; I heard him clambering up stairs, +tramping along passages, shutting doors, speaking to himself, +just as if all the actions of his prior life were being +gone over again. I would have another visit, and another +long narrative of some Bernard, whose picture was somewhere +in a red or blue room, and who had been, as usual, +with all those bearded individuals who hung on walls, +either at the crusades under Peter the hermit, or at Flodden +under James, or at Culloden under Charles. The clock +struck, with a sound of grating rust, two; and—tramp, +tramp—he trudged along the passage. The door opened, +and in came my chronicler.</p> + +<p>“Doctor, I saw your light,” said he, “and you know it +was always my duty, when the family were in their old +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +home here, to see that all the lights were out o’ nights; +aye ever after the east wing was burned down, through +aunt Marjory’s love of reading old romances. I hope I +did not disturb you.”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied I; “pray, Francis, I need not ask which +of these two pictured beauties is Amelia, my patient? +The likeness is good.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there she is,” said he, with a return of his old +enthusiasm. “See her light locks and her blue eyes. +She was the mother of that fair child. Don’t you see the +daughter in the mother and the mother in the daughter? +But I cannot look long on these pictures. My heart fails +and my head runs round. Look at the dark one. It +was a terrible night that when she came to Redcleugh. +My wife, who now lies in Deathscroft, down among the +elms yonder, could not sleep for the screeching of the owls, +as if every horned devil of them shouted woe! woe!—to +the house of Redcleugh.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Francis, omens—all nonsense,” I said, interrupting +him.</p> + +<p>“So said I to Christy, just as you say, doctor. So say +we all, every one of us, here and everywhere, always, just +until we are pulled up at a jerk by some one of God’s acts, +when we see His finger pointed to the sign. You are not +so old as I am, and have something to learn. Signs are +made only when there are to be judgments, and judgments +are not according to the common ways of heaven.”</p> + +<p>“What did Mr. Bernard do,” asked I, “to bring upon +him this judgment which appears to you to have been so +fearful?”</p> + +<p>“I am not in the secrets of God’s ways with erring +man,” replied he. “But who can tell how my master got +Lillah—that’s her there with these dark eyes—his first +wife? He had been away for years in the eastern countries, +and he never wrote to any one that he was to bring +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +a wife with him. He brought her, amidst the storm of +that fearful night, as if she had been a bird which he had +rescued from the blast, so cowering and timid did she +appear, always clinging to the laird, and looking at him +with such beseeching eyes, and so unlike the women of +our land—aye, for it was no northern sun lighted up these +eyes; and as for a heathen faith imparting such gentleness, +we could understand it no way. ’Twas all a hurry in Redcleugh +as well as a sort of fright among us in the hall, +every one whispering and wondering and questioning all +to no end; for from that night we never knew more of her +home or kindred, save that it was suspected she was a +Circassian, and had left a noble home for the love she bore +to master. Nor was she ever inquired after by her friends, +except once, when a great eastern lord, as they said, came +in a strange equipage to see her; but her change to a +Christian shocked and angered him, so that high words +rose and even reached our ears. He spoke of the faith she +had forsworn, of Allah, and Mahomet, and the Koran, and +she with tears responded Christ, the Saviour of all mankind, +and his holy mother, and the cross of Calvary, so that he +was made more angry; and then he spoke of Euphrosyne, +her mother, as we thought, and again the tears rolled +down these cheeks, as she clung to master and lay upon his +neck, sobbing as if her heart would burst in the battle between +the daughter and the wife. The stranger departed +in anger, nor did he break his fast at Redcleugh, and many +a day afterwards my young lady was in tears. ’Twas not +long till she had that boy, whom she bore after many days +of labour, with such pain that there was not a servant in +the household did not look as if her own salvation depended +upon the issue of that protracted struggle, so beloved was she, +sir; so respected, so adored, so pitied; and as for Mr. Bernard, +he was not himself—scarcely a man—and little +wonder either, for his face was ever the attraction of her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +eyes, and every look seemed to be watched by her as if +all her happiness hung upon one of his smiles. Such +doings were the wonder of us all in these parts; for you +know we are rougher lovers in our cold land, and neither +Christy, nor I, nor any of us, could understand how, on the +face of this earth, there could be such affection—not a +single drop of bitterness, not a ruffle on the smooth surface. +Why, sir! did we not all, to satisfy our self-love, +and our country’s custom, call it very idolatry; but it was +only a little envy which we, as it were, stole to ourselves, +as a sweet unction to our sores, and when these were +mended we loved her the more—nay, we could do nothing +less; for even the devil’s spleen couldn’t detect an unevenness +to hang upon it a suspicion against her.”</p> + +<p>“You are even more partial, Francis, than the painter,” +said I, “whom I have been charging with the fault of +drawing upon his fancy to enable him to draw upon our +credulity. She looks scarcely earthly.”</p> + +<p>“It’s no use my description, sir. There are certain +perfections we cannot attribute to God’s creatures, because +we suffer by the comparison. They say if there’s not now +and then a little anger there’s a want. Oh! they will say +God’s image is not perfect if it have not a dash of our own +evil in it. But experience is the mother of wonders as +well as wisdom. Aye, sir, years of intercourse, even at a +servant’s distance, are worth more than your theories in +these days.”</p> + +<p>“I suspect you have been in the library, Francis,” said +I; “you have opened books as well as bottles.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, sir, and <em>the book</em> of all books,” replied he seriously; +“but I hope I am not irreverend when I say that God may +lead us to understand the first image in Eden by showing +us sometimes something better here than what we can feel +within our own hearts.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am not sceptical,” said I; for I thought he was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +pained by my remark, as if I doubted the qualities of his +idol. “I believe all you have said of poor Lillah; and I +love for the sake of my own matrimonial hopes to believe +it, and more. But this idol died!”</p> + +<p>“And died young, sir; perhaps because she was an +idol,” replied he. “They don’t live long, sir, these creatures. +They’re like some of those bright winged things of +the East, of which I have read, that exist only so long as the +rose blooms on which they hang and live. But my lady +Lillah never dwined—only there came a sadness over her, +and master noticed that she began to cherish more than +usual a miniature which she carried about with her in her +bosom—the figure of a lady—I have seen it often—so like +herself you’d have said they were of the same family—’twas +her mother, whom she called Euphrosyne. Even now +I think I see her sitting in the rose arbour in the garden, +with little Caleb by her side, gazing at that picture, so long, +so thoughtfully, so pitifully that she seemed ready to weep; +then she would, as if recalled by remorse, hug the child, +and bid him run for his father; then Mr. Bernard would +no sooner come than she would be so much more loving +than was even her wont, that he seemed oppressed by the +very fervour of her affection. Master was a quiet man, sir, +and full of thought; and he soon saw that it would be good +for my lady that she should have a companion. So the +next thing we heard was that Amelia Temple, who had +been governess over the muir at Abbey Field, and had +been several times at Redcleugh with Mr. Orchardstoun’s +daughters, was engaged to come to us at the term. And +she came. The wind did not whistle that night, nor the +owl sound his horn; there was no omen, sir, and this will +please you, though it does not shake me in my faith in +heaven’s warnings. You see Amelia there (holding up +the candle, now nearly in the socket), I need not describe +what the painter has copied so faithfully. But master did +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +not look kindly on that face, beautiful as it is, with that +flashing eye and joyful expression. No, ’twas not till my +lady grew distractedly fond of her that he looked sweetly +on her (in the right way) for the love she gave to and got +from her he loved the best of all the world. Oh! ’twas a +beautiful sight, sir, those women. The rose of the west +was a match for the lily of the east; then the pensive +sweetness of the one, and the innocent light-heartedness of +the other, met and mingled in a friendship without guile—a +love without envy.”</p> + +<p>“Your last visit, Francis,” I said, with a smile which I +could not conceal, “must have been to the poets of the +library.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis only truth, sir,” resumed he. “When one sees a +beautiful thing and feels the beauty—a privilege which +is probably never denied at all times to any of God’s creatures, +and does not belong exclusively to the high born or +the learned—he is a poet, be he a gauger or a butler. Aye, +sir, a man may be a poet when his nose is right over the +mouth of a bottle of burgundy, vintage ’81.”</p> + +<p>“And not very poetical when he reflects that there is +not a bottle left in the house,” said I.</p> + +<p>“He has still ‘the pleasures of hope,’” rejoined Francis, +with a little newborn moisture on his dry lips.</p> + +<p>“Well,” rejoined I, as I began to yawn from pure want +of sleep, “there is at least little of either poetry or pleasure +in ‘hope deferred.’ We will moisten these dry legends of +the Bernards by a little of that burgundy of theirs now.”</p> + +<p>And this chronicler of the Bernards, as well as of something +better than small beer, soon handed me a large glassful +of this prince of wines.</p> + +<p>“You will require all the benefit of that, sir,” said he, +“if I am to go on with my story.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid,” said I, listlessly, “after what I have +read of the Grierson horrors.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +The old man turned upon me a strange, wild look, rendered +grotesque, if not ludicrous, by the effect of the glassful +he had at that moment taken at my request. “Ah! +you have heard—yet surely it is impossible. Was it not all +between me and master? Who other could know of it? +And the book! Oh, it was never found.”</p> + +<p>“I know nothing of these mysteries,” replied I, not really +understanding him, yet amazed at his appearance, as with +long grey locks, shaking by his excitement, he kept staring +at me in the dim light—for the candle was now out, and the +fire burned red and dull. A little more conjuring would +have brought all these pictures out into the room, and even +as it was, I was beginning to transform my companion’s +shadow, as it lay on the arm chair behind him, into the +very person itself of Lillah Bernard.</p> + +<p>“Doctor,” he said, gravely, “you must know the dark +secret of this apartment.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied I. “Go on; you have roused my +curiosity. I know nothing of the Bernard’s but what you +have told me, and I request to know more. Go on, +Francis.”</p> + +<p>He was not satisfied; continued to search, so far as he +could, my face; but I wore him out.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use denying it, sir,” he at length said, “but +take your own way now;” then heaving a deep sigh, which +might have been heard at the farthest end of the large +room, so silent was all, he went on: “’Twas not to last, sir, +all that happiness among those three, and little Caleb was +the centre by which they were all joined. There’s an +enemy abroad to such heart-unions—unseen by all but +God, who views him with the eye of anger, but lets him +have his way for a season, and why we know it. Such little +Edens grow up here and there among roses, as if to remind +us of the one paradise which has gone, and to make us +hope for the other which is to come; the old tragedy is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +wrought within a circuit of a few feet and the reach of a +few hearts. Oh! the old fiend triumphs with the old laugh +on his dark cheek. Yes, sir, it is even so; there is nothing +new with the devil, nor nothing old, nor will there be till +his neck is fastened; but in this meanwhile of days and +years of time, oh! how the soul pants as it looks through +the clouds of sorrow which rise under his dark wing, and +can see no light, save through the deep grave where lie +those once beautiful things in corruption. ’Twas the beauty +did it all, sir; the enemy cannot stand that loveliness; it +makes him wild; he raves to get between the hearts and +tear them so that the sanctified temples shall have no incense +in them—nothing save the heavy odours of carrion. +My lady Lillah one day felt a drowsiness come over her; +it seemed, as Christy said, she felt only as if she had been +inclined to sleep at an unusual time; she made no complaint, +but Mr. Bernard observed something in her eye, and his +watchfulness took alarm at every turn of her quiet manner. +The drowsiness increased, and then it was observed +that her pulse was slow and languid; it seemed to beat +with fewer pulses every hour, and then master became +more alarmed, and Amelia could not be away from her an +instant. ’Twas strange the change which all of a sudden +took place in Miss Temple; the gay laugh which Mr. Bernard +used to encourage as a welcome light thrown on the +soul of his wife was no more heard; a pitiful sympathy +took its place, and, as Christy described it, looked like the +light which we see so beautiful in the thin haze when +the sun seems to melt all through it; it was the spirit of +love, sir, dissolved in the shadows of grief. She hung over +our dear lady as if she would have poured her own spirit +into her to raise the still ebbing pulses. Nothing would +stop that ebbing; the pulse would beat a little stronger +after something given to her, but never quicker. Then +these long silken eyelashes fell farther and farther down, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +and the voice which had ever been all meekness, fell and +fell into half whispers. At length she said something into +master’s ear; and he motioned to Miss Temple to go out +for a little, but Christy remained. It was an awful moment, +sir, when she made a sign that she would speak. ‘Dear +Edward,’ she said, as she seemed to try to lift higher the +drooping lids, ‘I will never more see the beautiful valley of +the Kabarda, where stands my father’s castle, with its gardens +and roses of Shiraz. Oh, strange it seems to me, as all +the things about me grow dim, the vision of those beloved +scenes of my childhood wax brighter and brighter. I hear +my father’s voice crying Euphrosyne, and my mother’s +Lillah; my brothers and sisters take up the cry, and the +mountaineers salute the favourite daughter of their chief. +But she is here in this far land, and you, my best beloved, +are there before her. Edward, I am going to die—soon—soon. +I wished the dear Amelia away for a little—only a +little—to be here again, and never to go more. She is +faithful and loving and true. Edward; listen, my love: +when I am gone, and you can forget me, take that dear girl +into that place where you treasured me—into your affections, +as your wife, Edward. The thought pleases me, for +I think you will in her marry happiness, and my life seems +to ebb away in the hope that you may be with her as you +have been with me. Farewell; bring Caleb to kiss me +before I go. There is a voice in my ears; it is Allah! +Allah! but it is not listened to by the heart which whispers +Jesus! the Mediator! the Saviour!’</p> + +<p>“And with these words in her lips she died. O, sir, had +you seen master—it was pitiful; and as for Amelia, who +knew nothing of Lillah’s words, she kept weeping till her +eyes were inflamed. But the grief was everywhere +throughout Redcleugh. It seemed as if some dreadful +fate had befallen the whole household; gloom—gloom and +sadness all about—in every face—in every heart; for never +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +was a daughter of Scotland beloved as was this dear lady +of the far east; and I think somehow it was her having +died so far away from the land of her kindred that softened +the hearts of the people, and made them take on as I never +saw servants take on for a mistress. ’Twould be a sharp eye, +sir, that could distinguish now, in the vault of death’s croft, +the grey ashes of the beautiful Circassian from the dust of +the Bernards—ay, or that of my poor Christian Dempster! +It was now a long dark night to the house of Redcleugh, +but the longest night is at last awakened by a sun in the +morning. Mr. Bernard—always a moody man—scarcely +opened his mouth for months and months. He was like a +tree, that stands erect after being blasted—it may move +by the winds, but the sun has no warmth for it, and there +is nothing inside or at the root to give it life. They say +that when a beloved wife dies, it is to the husband like the +sun going away out of the firmament, and that by-and-by +she appears as a pale moon. Ay, sir; everything here is +full of change. Mr. Bernard’s moon had no waning in it, +till he began to catch the echoes of Miss Amelia’s voice as +he wandered among the woods. It was the grey dawn of +another sun, and the sun rose and rose, promising to gild +the east again with its glory. The long burden was taken +off Amelia. Her laugh began again to enliven Redcleugh, +when she saw that Mr. Bernard was able to bear it. Then, +sir, to bear it was to begin to love it, for it was the most +infectious joyfulness that ever gladdened man’s ears. The +change, once begun, went on; he hung upon her voice as +if it had been music. Every laugh shook him out of his +long misery—it appeared to be to him like new life running +along the nerves of the old dead tabernacle. So +might one think of a man in the desert, as he looks down +into the well, with the reflection of the sun in it; the +water is drunk in living light; he shakes off all the horrors +of his long-borne thirst, and rises renewed and glad. It +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +was pitiful—yea, it was pleasant too—to see how he followed +her, gazed at her, listened to her, just as if he were +always praying her, for mercy’s sake, to give him some +more of that medicine of his spirit. But, perhaps, he never +would have thought of marrying Amelia, but for the parting +words of Lillah. Christy, in her curious way, said +that it was Lillah’s moon that lighted him on to the rising +of the new sun of Amelia; and as Christy wanted this new +match, for the sake of saving, as she thought, the life of +our master—it was strange enough that she saw no omens +now save good ones; for was it not a good one, that every +living thing about Redcleugh looked as joyful as Amelia +herself? A wonderful work this world, sir! No magician +could have worked a greater wonder than the scene of that +marriage after the scene of that deathbed; yet it delighted +me to see old Redcleugh all in a blaze again, and to go +down into the old catacombs for the old-crusted vintages. +Bless your heart!—it was just like the beginning of a new +term of life to me. Then the memory of Lillah threw no +shade over the scene of enjoyment, for we all knew that +if her spirit were not hovering over her beloved Circassia, +it would be here looking down on the fulfilment of her +dying wish.”</p> + +<p>Here Francis drew breath, as if to prepare himself for +something much more wonderful. It may easily be conceived +that he had enlisted my sympathy, as well by the +facts of his story, as his manner of telling it; and as one +turns to the woodcut of a tale to get his impressions +enlivened or verified, I felt a desire to see again, by the +light of a candle, the face of the second wife. Francis +gratified me by getting another candle, lighting it, and +holding it up full in the face of Amelia.</p> + +<p>“’Twas all well for Redcleugh for a time,” he resumed, +“save for me, who lost my dear Christy shortly after Mira +was born. That’s she there, sir, as I have told you, alongside +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +of my lady Amelia. When the grief was still heavy +upon me, I was surprised by an almost sudden change in +Mr. Bernard. I had gone up in the morning, expecting +to find him in his dressing-room, which, as you see, enters +as well from the lobby as by a door from the parlour, +where breakfast was served. As I proceeded along the +passage, I saw my lady hurrying away, with her handkerchief +over her eyes, and her right hand held up, as if she +were addressing Heaven; then deep sobs came from her, +and a groan, which burst from the heart as she turned +away into the west angle, sounded through the long lobbies +and corridors. Master was not in his dressing-room. I +heard his voice calling me from his bed-room, and I started +at the sound, so unlike his utterance—so deep, heart-ridden, +and agonized. On entering, I found him in his +morning gown, sitting in that chair; his head thrown back, +and his eyes fixed on my lady Lillah’s portrait. It seemed, +also, as if Amelia could not rest in the room in the west +angle, where I thought I had seen her hurrying. Her foot +was distinctly heard as she passed again along the lobby, +which stretches along to the east tower, and passes this +room, where my master and I were. A succession of +groans followed, and died away as she receded. Mr. Bernard +was too much occupied by some heart-stupefying +thought to heed these sounds, and I stood before him not +knowing what to say, far less what to do. At length he +held up his hands, and placing one on my arm, said, in a +voice which seemed the sound of one choking:—</p> + +<p>“‘Francis, you are an old friend, not a servant—not +now at least. I trust you. The house of Redcleugh is +doomed, nor shall a Bernard be ever again happy within +its walls.’</p> + +<p>“‘What is wrong, master?’ I inquired.</p> + +<p>“‘The core,’ said he; ‘the master’s heart. I must go +to the East again. There may be peace there for me; here, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +in my father’s house, there is none. But what shall become +of Caleb and Mira?’</p> + +<p>“My heart was too full to answer, and still Amelia’s +groans came from the passages, changing and changing, +like the voice of a restless spirit. My master rose, and, +folding his arms, paced along the room. His brow was +knit tight as the muscles would draw. He seemed to contract +his arms, as if to compress his heart—nor did a word +escape from him. A thought seized me, that, like the older +Bernards, he was under a fit of alienation. I made for the +door, to seek my lady Amelia, and even in her agonies to +consult her what was to be done. My master seized me +sharply by the arm.</p> + +<p>“‘Whither going?’ he said.</p> + +<p>“‘For my lady,’ replied I.</p> + +<p>“‘For Amelia?’ he said—‘for the murderer of my +Lillah, my first love, my angel?’</p> + +<p>“I stood petrified, the word ‘murderer’ twittering on +my shaking lips in fragments.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ he said, ‘come in, come in—bolt that door; the +other is already cared for. Francis, you know how my +Lillah died; there was no disease—she slept away as a +drugged victim. Now, listen. During this last night I +was awoke by the restlessness of Amelia. I heard her +leave my side, and rise from the bed’—that on which you +are now lying.—‘The rush-light burned on the mantelpiece, +and I could see my wife, as she rose and began to +pace the floor. I called out gently, “Amelia;” but got no +answer. Her eyes, I saw, were fixed; and she moved her +arms, as if she were addressing some imaginary being. I +concluded she was sleep-walking, and immediately she +began to speak, as she paced backwards and forwards. +Part of what she said I lost, but I could join together +enough for conviction.</p> + +<p>“‘“She stood between me and my love,” she said, as she +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +stopped for a moment, laying one hand upon another, “and +it was necessary she should be put out of the way. A +Grierson was never a waverer when a deed of blood was to +be done.” “How did you do it?” “How did I do it? +Poison! I made her sleep the long sleep, which the sun +never breaks, nor the moon, nor time.” “What poison did +you say?” “The sleepy poison. I made for her a draught, +that I might draw the sweet life away; and”—</p> + +<p>“‘She stopped and laughed, as a sleep-walker laughs—hollow +and distant.</p> + +<p>“‘“And get into the <em>Temple</em> she occupied. Was you +still kind to her while you watched the effect of your +draught?” “Was I, did you say? Yes, very kind. Oh! +I nursed her dying spirit, that he might think me a ministering +angel to his wife, whom I wanted to succeed. He +was deceived. Yes, yes; simple fool, he was deceived. +Ay, and not deceived, for I loved him.”</p> + +<p>“‘She began to walk again to and fro, sometimes slowly, +sometimes quickly, then of a sudden turned and stood—“She +was fair,” she continued, as she kept looking at the +wall; “but so am I. He got as good a bargain in me as +in her.” Then she made devious movements, turning and +returning, muttering to herself, but so thickly that I +only caught words much disjointed—“Remorse!—yes, +yes!—no, no!—not till I am to be hanged; but that cannot +be; no one saw me. Say nothing, nothing!—mix +the draught—away to bed. ’Tis late, late! and I am +cold.”</p> + +<p>“‘She came to bed, Francis, cold and shivering. My +mind began to regain some form of thinking, after having +been tossed about by the effect of her horrible monologue, +or rather part of a dialogue. The conviction was instant, +unavoidable, and certain. I never thought of awakening +her to question her, but lay distant from her as from a +reptile. I slept none. In the morning she turned to kiss +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +me. I drew back my head in horror, and saw that she +too was horrified at my manner. I bade her begone for a +murderer, and, committed thus by my agony, told her she +had confessed the whole story in a fit of somnambulism. +Then she flew from me, crying she was innocent, tearing +her hair in good acting—and there she walks by the passages +under the sting of her guilt. Oh! she dare not face +me, even were I to allow a meeting, which I wont. Francis, +I am convinced.’</p> + +<p>“My master,” continued Francis, addressing me as I +lay listening and thinking of the old brochure, “was always +moody, as I have said—ay, and crotchety; no one had +any power to drive from him a settled opinion or resolution. +After I had listened to him I said—</p> + +<p>“‘Master, permit me, your poor servant, to say that +this is not evidence on which I would beat a dog.’</p> + +<p>“‘I am convinced,’ he replied sternly and unkindly, +and he moved his hand as a sign that I should leave him. +I retreated, grieved to the heart, for I knew master’s nature. +When I got to the top of the stair, I saw my lady +beckoning me from the door of the library. I went to her.</p> + +<p>“‘Francis,’ she said, as she shut the door, ‘what is +this? Has my husband told you anything?’</p> + +<p>“‘All,’ I replied. ‘He has recounted to me some +strange words uttered by you in your sleep, from which +he infers that you poisoned my lady Lillah.’</p> + +<p>“‘Repeat them—repeat them,’ she said hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“I did so, and when I mentioned the name Grierson, +she seemed to brighten a little. O how she hung upon +my words!</p> + +<p>“‘Francis,’ she said, ‘I may be saved. You may help +me. Some nights ago I was occupied in reading the history +of Jane Grierson—a little pamphlet which you will find +in the drawer of the escritoire, in the dressing-room. +There is the key. That story is the story I had recounted +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +in my sleep. Go get the book, and bring it to me. That +will save me, and nothing but that will save me.’</p> + +<p>“‘God be praised,’ I ejaculated, and then hurried with +all speed to get the book. I searched the escritoire; it +was not there. I examined other drawers with no better +success. At length I returned to my lady, and reported +my failure. Without saying a word she hurried away +from me, rushed along the lobby, and entered the parlour +opening into the dressing-room. Not doubting her word, +and agitated by the hope of all being thus satisfactorily +explained when the book should be got, I flew to my +master’s room through the door from the passage.</p> + +<p>“‘It is all explainable,’ I cried, as I entered.</p> + +<p>“‘Indeed!’ answered Mr. Bernard satirically.</p> + +<p>“‘My lady was some nights ago reading the story of +Jane Grierson,’ said I, ‘and her sleep-walking conversation +was only a repetition of the story.’</p> + +<p>“‘Grierson, Grierson!’ cried my master, as he rose +frantically, and placed his hand on his forehead. ‘Yes, +yes! she mentioned the word. I have never thought of +that. Yes! yes! show me that book, and I shall be satisfied.’</p> + +<p>“I ran immediately to the door leading to the dressing-room, +where I heard my lady searching. Master had shut +it. He opened it for me by the key which he held in his +hand, and locked it as I passed out. It seemed he wanted +no interview till the book should be got. Amelia was +there, searching and searching, trembling and sighing.</p> + +<p>“‘What means this?’ she ejaculated, as she proceeded—then +paused. ‘I must have placed it in the trunk, +from whence I took it;’ and she rushed away to the room +where the trunks lay, which she had brought with her to +Redcleugh.</p> + +<p>“’Twas all in vain. That book could not be got, sir. +That book was never found. No copy of it could be procured. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +The loss of that book was the ruin of the house +of Redcleugh.”</p> + +<p>“There it is,” said I, holding up the tattered brochure to +the wondering eyes of the old butler.</p> + +<p>“Gracious Heaven!” cried the old man. “Yet not +gracious—too late, too late!” and he staggered, like one +who is drunk. “Mr. Bernard is dead.”</p> + +<p>“And Amelia is mad,” said I, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, mad,” said he, as he still gazed on the brochure, +and turned it over and over with trembling hands.</p> + +<p>“But how did you come to get this,” he inquired.</p> + +<p>I told him, and he rose and hastened to the escritoire +to examine it, and satisfy himself of the truth of my statement.</p> + +<p>“When that book could not be found, sir,” he resumed +when he came back, “my master put his resolution into +effect. He placed his children with Mr. Gordon, one of +his trustees, executed a settlement, and went to the East. +My lady Amelia never saw him from that morning, but +he left word with me, that if the pamphlet was found in +the house, he should be made acquainted with it through +his trustee, Mr. Gordon. But, ah! sir, that never happened, +in God’s mysterious providence; and now my poor +Lady Amelia could receive no advantage from this proof of +her innocence. I have heard from her own lips, before +her reason gave way, that she was the grand-daughter of +Jane Grierson and Mr. Temple, and that was the reason +why she came to have this little book. The story haunted +her, yet she read it; while, at the same time, she concealed +her possession of it, and her connection with the parties.”</p> + +<p>Francis now left me, and if I had little inclination to +sleep before, I had less now. All the strange incidents of +the story seemed to revolve round myself; though my part +in it seemed merely the result of chance, I appeared to +myself somehow as a directly-appointed agent for working +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +out some design of Providence. Yet what I was required +to do I did not know. I cogitated and recogitated, and +came to no conclusion as to how I should act; only I saw +no great benefit in the meantime in endeavouring to make +any use of the pamphlet for the purpose of recovering the +aberrant reason of the poor lady. At length I fell asleep, +and next morning awoke to the strange recollections of +what had occurred so shortly before. I saw Amelia again; +she was depressed and moody; the fiend within her was +dormant, but its weight pressed on the issues of thought, +and her vacant stare told unutterable woe.</p> + +<p>I left Redcleugh without much hope, intending to pay +another visit shortly afterwards. About three or four +days after reaching home, a letter came to me from Francis, +inclosing one from Mr. Gordon, the latter of which contained +the intelligence that there had been some mistake as to the +report of Mr. Bernard’s death. A gentleman of the same +name had died at Aleppo, but the master of Redcleugh +was still alive. A gleam of the sunshine of hope darted +through my mind. The dark images of the story were +illumined—even the figure of that poor lady enshrined in +the gloom of sorrow became bright with lustrous, meaning, +intelligent eyes. Within an hour I had a letter posted for +Mr. Gordon, informing him of the finding of the pamphlet, +and requesting him to send for Mr. Bernard by an express +messenger.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile I visited Mrs. Bernard regularly, +though the distance was much beyond my usual journeys. +Some parts of the intelligence were broken to her through +the medium of Francis, but without any marked result, if +exacerbations were not more frequent, ending in deeper +depression; as if a wild hope had risen and died away in +the absence of anything visible or tangible to justify it to +the erring but suspicious judgment of the victim of despair. +Other preparations were made; the old servants recalled; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +and Francis was glorying in the prospect of a restoration of +the old ways, if not the very continuation of that broken +happiness of which he was so full. At length Mr. Bernard +arrived, along with Caleb and Mira. Mr. Gordon was +along with them, and I was sent for. We were all assembled +without Mrs. Bernard being aware of our presence in +the house. I counselled caution, and Mira was introduced +to the mother alone; but the child retreated under the +fear of a scream which might betoken either joy or despair; +nor did her mother ask for her again—a strange circumstance, +and not of good omen; but we behoved to persevere, +and Mr. Bernard himself, accompanied by Mr. +Gordon and me, presented ourselves before her. Was +there ever a meeting under such circumstances? The +husband clasped the unconscious wife to his bosom. I stood +to watch the effect of an act which I considered precipitate, +if not imprudent. The moment she felt herself in the arms +of her husband she struggled to release herself, uttered the +loudest scream I ever heard from her, and fell in a swoon +upon the floor. That swoon gave me hopes, for in confirmed +madness we do not often find that moral causes +working on the mind show any power over the body. When +she recovered, and was placed in a chair, she panted for +breath, like one choking; and waving her hands and grasping +convulsively the clothes of those next to her, seemed as +if she were testing the reality of all these appearances, as +things new and wonderful and incredible. I then held out +to her the pamphlet, in all its tattered condition. The effect +was extraordinary. She clutched it with such an intensity +of grasp that she crumpled it all up, and then tried with +trembling hands to undo the crushed leaves, some of which +fell at her feet. I watched the rise of the natural expression +of wonder struggling through the look of insanity; +but I could discover no joy, only something like fear. I +still augured favourably. She was laid upon her bed, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +in about an hour afterwards fell into a troubled sleep. A +day passed, yet amid my hopes I could see nothing on +which I could absolutely rely as an undoubted sign of a +favourable change, till on the evening of the second day, +when she burst into a flood of tears. I had Mr. Bernard +at her side at the end of this paroxysm, and in a very short +time she was hanging upon his neck, sobbing like a child +who is reconciled to its mother.</p> + +<p>Under a date some six months after these indications of +Amelia’s convalescence, I find a note in my diary, “Dined +at Redcleugh with Mr. and Mrs. Bernard; the invalid +restored, and again the object of her husband’s affection; +the butler once more the pride of his major-domoship; the +old Burgundy produced and declared better than ever; +heard that musical laugh which once charmed Mr. Bernard +from the depth of his sorrow, as it now mingled, like +a fluid, with the glory of a summer sun shining through +the green blinds, and spread joy throughout the old house +of Redcleugh.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ROTHESAY FISHERMAN.</h2> + + +<p>When I was a boy, I used to pass the summer vacation in +the Isle of Bute, where my father had a small cottage, for +the convenience of sea-bathing. I enjoyed my sea-side visits +greatly, for I was passionately fond of boating and fishing +and, before I was sixteen, had become a fearless and excellent +swimmer. From morning till night, I was rambling +about the beach, or either sailing upon or swimming in +the beautiful Frith. I was a prime favourite among the +fishermen, with most of whom I was on familiar terms, and +knew them all by name. Among their number was one +man who particularly attracted my attention, and excited +my curiosity. He was civil and obliging, though distant +and reserved in his manners, with a shade of habitual +melancholy on his countenance, which awakened my sympathy, +at the same time that his “bearing,” which was +much above his station, commanded my respect. He <em>appeared</em> +to be about sixty years of age; particularly prepossessing +in his appearance; and his language and demeanour +would have done honour to any rank of society. I felt +involuntarily attracted towards him, and took every opportunity +of showing my wish to please and become better +acquainted with him; but in vain. He seemed gratified +by my attentions; but I made no nearer approach to his +confidence. He went, among his companions, by the name +of “Gentleman Douglas;” but they appeared to be as ignorant +of the particulars of his history as myself. All they +knew of him was, that he had come among them a perfect +stranger, some years before, no one knew from whence; +that he seemed to have some means of support independent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +of his boat; and that he was melancholy, silent, and reserved—as +much as possible avoiding all communication +with his neighbours. These particulars only served to +whet my boyish curiosity, and I determined to leave no +means untried to penetrate to the bottom of Douglas’ +mystery. Let me do myself justice, however: my eagerness +to know his history proceeded from an earnest desire +to soothe his sorrow, whatever it might be, and to benefit +him in any way in my power. Day after day I used to +stroll down to the beach, when he was preparing to get his +boat under way, and volunteer to pull an oar on board. +At first he seemed annoyed by my officiousness; and, +though he always behaved with civility, showed, by his +impatient manner, that he would rather dispense with my +company; but the constant dripping of water will wear +away a stone, and hard indeed must be the heart that will +not be softened by unremitting kindness. My persevering +wish to please him gradually produced the desired effect—he +<em>was</em> pleased, and evinced it by his increasing cordiality +of manner, and by the greater interest he seemed to take +in all my movements. In a short time we became inseparables, +and his boat hardly ever left the shore without me. +My father was not at all adverse to my intimacy with +Douglas; he knew him to be a sober, industrious man, +and one who bore an irreproachable moral character; and +as he was anxious that I should strengthen my constitution +as much as possible in the sea-breeze, he thought I could +not roam about under safer or less objectionable protection. +On a further acquaintance with Douglas, I found +him a most agreeable companion; for, when his reserve +wore off, his conversation was amusing and instructive; +and he had tales to tell of foreign lands and of distant seas, +which he described with that minuteness and closeness +which only a personal acquaintance with them could have +produced. Often, in the course of his narration, his eye +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +would brighten and his cheek glow with an emotion foreign +to his usual calm and melancholy manner; and then he +would suddenly stop, as if some sound he had uttered had +awakened dark memories of the past, and the gloom clouded +his brow again, his voice trembled, and his cheek grew +pale. These sudden transitions alarmed and surprised me; +my suspicions were excited, and I began to imagine that +the man must have been guilty of some unknown and +dreadful crime, and that conscience was at such times busy +within him. Douglas must have observed my changing +manner; but it made little alteration in his demeanour +towards myself.</p> + +<p>“What is the matter, Douglas?” said I, one day, when +I observed him start and turn pale at some casual observation +of mine.</p> + +<p>“Do not indulge a vain and idle curiosity, Master +Charles, at the expense of another’s feelings,” replied he, +gravely and mournfully, “nor endeavour to rake up the +ashes of the past. The heart knows its own bitterness: +long may yours be a stranger to sorrow! I have observed, +with pain, that you, as others have done, begin to look +upon me with suspicion. Be satisfied with the assurance, +that I have no crimes needing concealment, to reproach +myself with; and the sorrows of age should be sacred in +the eyes of youth.”</p> + +<p>I was humbled by the old man’s reproof, and hastened +to express my concern for having hurt his feelings.</p> + +<p>“Enough said, enough said, Mr. Charles,” said he; +“curiosity is natural at your age, and I am not surprised +at your wishing, like some of your elders, to learn the +cause of the melancholy which hangs over me like a cloud +darkening the path of life, and embittering all its pleasures. +At some future time I will tell you the reason why you +see me what I am; but I cannot now—the very thought +of it unmans me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +Time wore on; every year I returned to the sea-side +during the summer, and was always welcomed with unaffected +cordiality by my old ally, Douglas. I was now a +strapping youth of nineteen, tall and powerful of my age—thanks +to the bracing sea-air and constant exercise. +One day Douglas told me he was going over to Largs, and +asked if I would accompany him.</p> + +<p>“With all my heart,” said I; and in ten minutes we +were standing across the Frith with a fine steady breeze. +We were close over to the Ayrshire coast, when a sudden +puff of wind capsized the boat, and we were both thrown +into the water. When I rose to the surface again, after +my plunge, I looked around in vain for Douglas, who had +disappeared. He had on a heavy pea-jacket, and I was at +first afraid the weight and encumbrance of it must have +sunk him; but, on second thoughts, I dived under the boat, +and found him floundering about beneath the sail, from +whence I succeeded with great difficulty in extricating +him. He was quite exhausted, and it required all my +strength to support him to the gunnel of the boat. After +hanging on there some time, to recover breath, we swam +together to the beach, which was not far distant. When +we landed, he seated himself on a large stone, and remained +silent for some time, with his face buried in his hands.</p> + +<p>“Douglas,” said I, wondering at his long silence, “are +you hurt?”</p> + +<p>To my great surprise I heard low sobs, and saw the +tears trickling between his fingers. Thinking that he was +grieved at the loss of his boat, I said—</p> + +<p>“Cheer up, man! If the boat be lost, we will manage +among us to get another for you.”</p> + +<p>“’Tisn’t the boat, sir, ’tisn’t the boat; we can soon raise +<em>her</em> again: it is your kindness that has made a fool of +me.”</p> + +<p>He then looked up in my face, and, drying his glistening +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +cheek with one hand, he shook mine long and heartily with +the other.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Charles, before I met you, I thought I was alone +in the world; shunned by most around me as a man of +mystery. Because I could not join in their rude sports and +boisterous merriment, they attributed my reserve and +visible dejection to sinister causes—possibly to some horrible +and undiscovered crime.” A blush here flitted across +my countenance; but Douglas did not remark it. “Young, +and warm, and enthusiastic, <em>you</em> sought me out with different +feelings; you were attracted towards me by pity, and +by a generous desire to relieve my distress. It was not +the mere impulse of a moment; your kindness has been +constant and unwavering—and now you have crowned all +by saving my life. I hardly know whether or not to thank +you for what was so worthless to myself; but I <em>do</em> thank +you from the bottom of my heart for the friendly and +generous feeling which actuated you. You shall know the +cause of the sorrow that weighs upon my heart; I would +not that one to whom I owe so much should look upon me +with the slightest shade of suspicion. I think, when you +know my story, you will pity and sympathize with me; but +you will judge less harshly, I doubt not, than I do of myself.”</p> + +<p>“Do not call up unnecessary remembrances, which +harrow your feelings, Douglas. That I have often thought +there is mystery about you, I will not deny; but only once +did the possibility of a cause of guilt flash across my mind. +That unworthy suspicion has long past, and I am now +heartily ashamed of myself for having harboured it for a +moment. But we are forgetting the boat; we must try to +get assistance to right her.”</p> + +<p>We soon fell in with one of the fishermen on the coast, +with whose assistance she was speedily righted and baled +out; and, after having done what we came for at Largs +we returned homewards.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +“Meet me to-morrow at ten o’clock, Mr. Charles,” said +Douglas, as he grasped my hand at parting, “and you +shall then hear my story, and judge whether or not I have +cause to grieve.”</p> + +<p>At the appointed hour next morning I hastened to the +rendezvous. The fisherman was already there, waiting for +me.</p> + +<p>“I daresay you are surprised to see me here so soon,” +said he; “but now that I have determined to make you +my confidant, I feel eager to disburden my mind, and to +seek relief from my sorrows in the sympathy of one whom +I am so proud to call my friend.</p> + +<p>“I was not always in the humble station in which you +now see me, Mr. Stewart; but, thank Heaven! it was no +misconduct of my own that occasioned the change. My +father was an English clergyman, whose moderate stipend +denied to his family the luxuries of life; but we had reason +to acknowledge the truth of the wise man’s saying, that +‘a dinner of herbs, where love is, is better than more +sumptuous fare where that love is not’. We were a united +and a happy family, contented with the competence with +which Providence had blessed us, and pitying, not envying, +those who, endowed with greater wealth, were exposed to +greater temptations. Oh! those happy, happy days! It +sometimes almost maddens me, Mr. Stewart, to compare +myself, as I am now, with what I was then. Every morning +I rose with a light and happy heart, exulting in the +sunbeam that awakened me with its smile, and blessing, +in the gladfulness of youthful gratitude, the gracious Giver +of light and life. My heart overflowed with love to all +created beings. I could look back without regret, and the +future was bright with hope. And now, what am I? A +broken-hearted man, but still, after all my sufferings, +grateful to the hand which has chastened me. I can picture +the whole family grouped on a summer evening, now, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +Mr. Stewart, as vividly as a sight of yesterday, though fifty +years have cast their dark shadows between. My mother, +seated beside her work-table under the neat verandah in +front of our cottage, encouraging my sisters, with her sweet +smile and gentle voice, in the working of their first sampler; +my father, seated with his book, under the shade of his +favourite laburnum tree; while my brother and I were +trundling our hoops round the garden, shouting with +boyish glee; and my little fair-haired cousin, Julia, tottering +along with her little hands extended, to catch the +butterfly that tempted her on from flower to flower. My +brother Henry was two years younger than myself, and +was at the time I speak of a remarkably handsome, active +boy, of ten years of age—full of fun and mischief, unsteady +and volatile. My father found considerable difficulty in +confining Henry’s attention to his studies; for, though uncommonly +quick and intelligent, he wanted patience and +application. He could not bear the drudgery of poring +over musty books. He used to say to me—‘How I should +like to be an officer, a gallant naval officer, to lead on my +men through fire and smoke to victory!’ And then the +little fellow would wave his hand, while the colour flushed +his cheeks, and shout—‘Come on! come on!’ He had, +somehow or other, got possession of an old naval chronicle; +and from that moment his whole thoughts were of ships +and battles, and his principal amusement was to launch +little fleets of ships upon the pond at the bottom of the +garden. My father, though mild and indulgent in other +matters, was a strict disciplinarian in education; and often +did I save Henry from punishment by helping him with +his exercises and other lessons. Dearly did I love my +gallant, high-spirited little brother; and he looked up to +me with equal fondness.</p> + +<p>“I will not weary you with details, but at once jump over +the next twelve years of my life. The scene was now +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +greatly changed at the parsonage. Death had been busy +among its inmates; a contagious disorder had carried off +my mother and sisters, and my poor father was left alone +in his old age—not alone, for Julia was still with him. I +forgot to say before, that she was the orphan daughter of +his elder brother. Julia, at sixteen, was beautiful. I will +not attempt to describe her, although every feature, every +expression of her lovely countenance, is vividly pictured +in my heart. She was its light, its pride, its hope. Alas! +alas! she had grown up like a sweet flower beside me, and, +from her infancy, had clung to me with a sister’s confidence, +and more than a sister’s affection. Was it wonderful +that I loved her? Yes, I loved her fondly and devotedly; +and I soon had the bliss of knowing that my affection +was returned. I had been for some time at college, +studying for the church, when a distant relation died, and +left me a comfortable competency. My father now consented +with pleasure to my union with Julia; and a distant +day was fixed for the marriage, to enable my brother +Henry to be present. He had been abroad for some time +in the merchant service, and his constant employment had +prevented his visiting home for many years; but he had +written to say that he expected now to have a long holiday +with us. At length he returned, and great was my joy at +meeting my beloved brother once more. He was a fine, +handsome, manly-looking fellow—frank and boisterous in +his manner, kind and generous in his disposition, but the +slave of passion and impulse. In a week after his return, +he became dull and reserved, and every one remarked the +extraordinary change that had come over him. My father +and I both thought that our quiet and monotonous life +wearied and disgusted him, and that he longed for the +more bustling scenes to which he had been accustomed. +“Come, Harry!” said I to him one day, “cheer up, my +boy! we shall be merry enough soon: you must lay in a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +fresh stock of spirits; Julia will quarrel with you if you +show such a melancholy phiz at our wedding.” He turned +from me with impatience, and, rushing out into the garden, +I saw no more of him that day. I was hurt and surprised +by his manner, and hastened to express my annoyance to +Julia. She received me with less than her usual warmth, +blushed when I talked of my brother, and soon left me on +some trifling pretext. My father had gone to visit a +neighbouring clergyman, at whose house he was taken +suddenly and alarmingly ill. I hastened to his bedside, +and found him in such a precarious state, that I determined +upon remaining near him. I therefore despatched a +messenger to Julia, informing her of my intention, and +intimating that it would be necessary to postpone our +marriage, which was to have taken place in the course of +a week, until my father’s recovery. In answer to my +letter, I received a short and hurried reply, merely +acquiescing in the propriety of my movements, and without +any expression of regret at my lengthened absence. +Surprised at the infrequency and too apparent indifference +of Julia’s answers to the long and impassioned letters which +I almost daily wrote to her, alarmed at the long interval +which had elapsed since I last heard from her, and fearing +that illness might have occasioned her silence, I left my +father, who was rapidly recovering, and hastened home. +When I arrived at the parsonage, I walked into the drawing-room; +but as neither Julia nor my brother was there, +I concluded they were out walking, and, taking a book, I +sat down, impatiently waiting their return. Some time +having elapsed, however, without their making their appearance, +I rang the bell; and our aged servant, on entering, +started at seeing me there.</p> + +<p>“La, sir!” said she, “I did’nt expect to see <em>you</em>!”</p> + +<p>“Where are Miss Julia and my brother?”</p> + +<p>“Why, la, sir! I was just agoing to ask <em>you</em>. Miss Julia +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +had a letter from you about a week ago, and she and Mr. +Henry went off in a poshay together next day. They said +they would be back to-day.”</p> + +<p>I said not a word in reply, but buried my face in my +folded arms on the table, while the cold perspiration flowed +over my brow, and my heart sickened within me, as the +fatal truth by degrees broke upon me.</p> + +<p>“Fool, fond fool, that I was, to have been so long blind!” +muttered I; “but it cannot be!—Julia!—<em>my</em> Julia!—no, +no!” And I almost cursed myself for the unworthy suspicion. +But why dwell longer upon these moments of +agony? My first surmise was a correct one. In a week’s +time all was known. My brother, my brother Harry, for +whom I would have sacrificed fortune, life itself, had betrayed +my dearest trust, and had become the husband of +her I had fondly thought my own. The blow was too +sudden and overpowering; I sunk beneath it. My reason +became unsettled, and for several months I was unconscious +of my own misery. I awoke to sense, an altered +man. My heart was crushed, my very blood seemed to +be turned into gall; I hated my kind, and resolved to +seclude myself for ever from a world of falsehood and ingratitude. +The only tie which could have reconciled me +to life had been wrenched away from me during my unconsciousness: +my brother’s misconduct had broken my +father’s heart, and I was left alone in the world. I paid +one sad visit to my father’s grave, shed over it bitter tears +of sorrow and disappointment, and from that hour to this +I have never seen the home in which I passed so many +happy days. Some months afterwards, I received a letter +from a friend residing in Wales, of a very extraordinary +nature, requiring me instantly to visit him, and stating +that he had something of importance to communicate to +me. I knew the writer, and confided in him; he had +known my misfortune, and wept with me over the loss of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +my Julia and of my father. I hastened to him on the +wings of expectation, and, when I arrived, was taken by +him into an inner apartment of his house, with an air of +secrecy and mystery.</p> + +<p>“Have you yet recovered from the effects of your misfortunes?” +said he. “I have often reflected on your extraordinary +fate, and pitied you from the innermost recesses +of my soul. Would you believe it? I have in store for +you an antidote against the grief of your ruined affections; +but I will not say a medicine for your pain, or a balm for +your sorrow.”</p> + +<p>“For a broken heart,” said I, “there is no cure in this +world.”</p> + +<p>He looked at me, and wept.</p> + +<p>“Dress yourself in this suit of my mournings,” he said, +“and accompany me whither I will lead you.”</p> + +<p>I gazed at him in amazement; but he left me to put on +the weeds, and to torture myself with vain thoughts.</p> + +<p>He returned and called me out. I followed him. We +went some little distance, and joined a funeral that was +slowly proceeding to the burying-ground. My confusion +prevented me from looking at the time to see who was +chief mourner. I proceeded with the mourners, and soon +stood on the brink of the grave. When the pall was taken +off, and the coffin lowered down into the earth, my eye +caught the inscription on the plate; it was—“J. M., aged +20.” “So young!” muttered I; and at the same moment +I glanced at the chief mourner. He had withdrawn his +handkerchief from his face. Our eyes met—he turned +deadly pale, and made a motion as if to leave the ground; +but I sprang forward, almost <em>shrieking</em> “Henry!” and detained +him. I looked in his face. Oh, what a change +was there! His eye quailed beneath the cold, steady, +withering glance of mine. I felt that he read the meaning +of that glance, for he absolutely writhed beneath it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +“Do not revile me, brother,” murmured he; “the hand +of Heaven has been heavy upon me; my crime has already +met with its punishment. Oh, my poor, poor Julia!”</p> + +<p>“Where, where is she?” wildly exclaimed I. He +pointed to the new-made grave?</p> + +<p>Oh, the bitterness of that hour! We wept—the betrayer +and the betrayed wept together over the grave of +their buried hopes. I arose calm and collected. “Brother,” +said I, giving him my hand, “my animosity shall be buried +with her; may your own heart forgive you as freely as I +do the injury you have done me! But we must never +meet more.” And, with slow steps and aching heart, I +turned and left the spot.</p> + +<p>I received a letter from Henry some time afterwards, +from one of the outports, telling me that he was just on +the point of leaving England for ever, and imploring my +forgiveness in the most touching terms, “for the sake of +our early days, the happy years of our boyhood.” Those +early days—those happy days!—my heart softened towards +him as I thought of them. Sorely as he had wronged me, +he was my brother still, and I felt that I could, if permitted, +clasp him to my heart once more.</p> + +<p>Weary of life, and tired of the world, I dragged on a +miserable existence for some time, in a secluded situation +on the shores of Cornwall; but, by degrees, the monotony +of my sedentary and recluse life wearied me. I began to +associate with the poor fishermen around me, and, in a +short time, became enthusiastically fond of their perilous +and exciting mode of life. The sea became to me quite a +‘passion’—my mind had found a new channel for its +energies; and when, a short time afterwards, I lost my little +fortune through the mismanagement or villany of my agent, +I took staff in hand, and, hastening to Liverpool, boldly +launched into life again as a common seaman, on board a +merchant vessel bound to the West Indies.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +I had toiled on for several years as a common seaman, +during which time I attracted the notice of my captain, by +my indefatigable attention to the duties of my station, and by +the reckless indifference with which I lavished my strength, +and often risked my life, in the performance of them.</p> + +<p>“Douglas” (for that was the name which I had assumed), +“Douglas,” said the captain to me one day, after I had been +particularly active during a heavy gale we encountered, +“I must try if I cannot do something for you; your activity +and energy entitle you to promotion. I will speak to the +owners when we return, and endeavour to procure you a +mate’s berth.” I thanked him, and went forward again to +my duty. A few days afterwards, we were going along +with a strong beaming wind; there was a high sea running, +every now and then throwing a thick spray over the +weather bulwarks; the hands were at dinner, and I was +just coming up to relieve the man at the wheel; there was +no one on deck but the mate of the watch, and the captain, +who was standing on the weather bulwark, shaking the +backstays, to feel if they bore an equal strain: all at once +the ship gave a heavy weather lurch, the captain lost his +footing, and was overboard in a moment. I instantly sprang +aft, cut away the life-buoy, and knowing that he was but +an indifferent swimmer, jumped overboard after him. As +I said before, the sea was running high, and a few minutes +elapsed before I caught sight of him, rising on the crest of +a wave, at some distance from me. I saw he could not +hold out long; for he was over-exerting himself, shouting +and raising his hand for assistance, and his face was pale +as death. I struck out desperately towards him, and +shouted, when I got near him, “Keep up your heart, sir; +be cool; don’t attempt to lay hold of me, and, please God, +I will save you yet.” My advice had the desired effect, +and restored his self-possession; he became more cool and +collected, and with occasional support from me, contrived +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +to reach the life-buoy. In the meantime, all was confusion +on board the ship; the second mate of the watch, a young +hand, in the hurry of the moment, threw the ship too suddenly +up to the wind, a squall struck her at the moment, +and the foretopmast and topgallantmast went over the side, +dragging the maintopgallantmast with them. The cry of +“A man overboard!” had hurried the crew on deck, and +the crash of the falling spars, and the contradictory orders +from the quarter-deck, at first puzzled and confused them; +but the <em>chief</em> mate was a cool, active seaman, and the moment +he made his appearance order and silence were restored; +the quarter-boat was instantly lowered, numbers +of the men springing forward to volunteer to man her, for +the captain was deservedly beloved by his crew; and the +rest of the hands were immediately set to work to clear +away the wreck. In a few minutes the boat reached us, +and we were safely seated in the stern sheets.</p> + +<p>“Douglas, my gallant fellow,” said the captain, shaking +me cordially by the hand, “I may thank <em>you</em> that I am +not food for the fishes by this time. I had just resigned +myself to my fate, when your voice came over the water +to me, like a messenger of hope and safety. How can I +ever repay you?”</p> + +<p>“I am sufficiently repaid, Captain Rose, by seeing you +beside me; the only way in which you can serve me, is +by giving me a lift in the way of promotion, when we return +home.”</p> + +<p>“I will, you may depend upon it,” replied he; “and as +long as I live, you may apply to me as a firm and faithful +friend.”</p> + +<p>I was highly gratified by this promise; for the great +object of my ambition for some time past had been to raise +myself again from obscurity into something like my former +station in life. Next voyage, through the captain’s interest +with the owners, I was appointed chief mate of the Albion, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +Captain Rose’s ship, for which I was found duly qualified, +having employed all my spare hours at sea in acquiring a +knowledge of the theory of navigation. Captain Rose was +like a brother to me, introducing me to his family and +friends as the saver of his life, and making quite a <em>lion</em> of +me in Liverpool. We sailed in company with a large fleet, +under convoy of three frigates and two sloops of war, and +had been some time at sea when a heavy gale of wind came +on one afternoon, which completely dispersed the convoy. +When it commenced there were nearly two hundred sail +in sight; at the end of two days, we were alone. The +Albion was a beautiful vessel of her class, about four hundred +tons burden; an excellent sea-boat. We had a smart +active crew, besides a number of passengers, and were well +furnished for defence, if required; but we were now so +near our port that we dreaded little danger. However, it +was necessary to be constantly on the alert, for there were +many piratical vessels in those seas, which, in spite of the +vigilance and activity of H.M. cruisers, were constantly on +the watch to pounce upon any stray merchantmen. Capt. +Rose was, on the whole, rather pleased at his separation +from the convoy, as there were only one or two other +vessels, besides himself, bound to the Havannah, and he +would have been obliged to accompany the body of the +fleet to Barbadoes. After we had parted from the convoy, +we made the best of our way towards Cuba. One night, +it was almost calm, but with every appearance of a coming +breeze; the moon was nearly at her full, but dark, heavy +clouds were drifting quickly over her, which almost entirely +hid her from our view, except when, at intervals, +she threw from between them a broad flash over the waters, +as bright and almost as momentary as lightning gleams. +We were crawling slowly along, with all our small canvas +set; the breeze was blowing off the shore, the dark shadow +of which lay like a shroud upon the water; it was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +nearly eight bells in the first watch; the captain and +several of the passengers were still on deck, enjoying +the cool, delightful breeze; but their suspicious and anxious +glances into the dark shadow to windward, seemed to intimate +that their conversation over their grog that evening, +which had been of the pirates that infested those islands, +and Cuba in particular, had awakened their fears and +aroused their watchfulness.</p> + +<p>“Hark! Captain Rose,” said I, “what noise is that?”</p> + +<p>Every face was instantly turned over the weather gunwale, +and in breathless silence they all listened in the +direction to which I pointed. A low, murmuring, rippling +sound was heard, and a kind of dull, smothered, creaking +noise repeated at short intervals; nothing was to be seen, +however, for all was in deep shadow in that quarter.</p> + +<p>“Talk of the devil, and he’ll show his horns, Douglas!” +said the captain. “I have not been so long at sea without +being able to distinguish the whispering of the smooth +water when a sharp keel is slipping through it, or the +sound of muffled sweeps. There may be mischief there, +or there may not; but we’ll be prepared for the worst. Get +the men quietly to their quarters, put an extra dose of +grape into the guns, and have all our tools ready.”</p> + +<p>Just at this moment the moonlight broke brightly +through the clouds, and showed us a small, black-looking +schooner, slowly crawling out from the shadow of the +land. Her decks were apparently crowded with people, +and she had a boat towing astern. The men were soon at +their quarters—and a fine, active, spirited set of fellows +they were—each armed with a cutlass and a brace of +pistols, while tomahawks and boarding pikes lay at hand +for use if required. The passengers were all likewise provided +with muskets, pistols, and cutlasses, and the servants +were ready to load spare fire-arms. We mustered about +fifty in all; but there was not a flincher among us.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +“Now, my lads;” said Captain Rose to his crew, “we +must have a brush for it. I have no doubt those fellows +are pirates; and if once they get footing on this deck, I +would not give a farthing for any man’s life on board. Be +cool and quiet. Don’t throw away a shot; remember that +you are fighting for your lives; I do not doubt your courage, +but be cool and steady!”</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the dark hull of the schooner was +gradually nearing us.</p> + +<p>“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Captain Rose. No answer; +but the sweeps dipped faster into the water, which rippled +up beneath her bow. “Schooner, ahoy!—answer, or I’ll +fire!” Still no reply; but, almost immediately, a bright +sudden flash burst from her bow, and a shot came whizzing +through the mizen-rigging.</p> + +<p>“I thought so,” calmly said the captain; “be cool, my +lads; we must not throw away a shot; he’s hardly within +our range yet.” The moon broke out for a moment. +“Now, my lads, take time, and a steady aim. Give it +him!” And flash, flash—bang, bang, went all our six +carronades. The captain’s advice had not been thrown +away; the aim had been cool and deliberate; we heard the +loud crashing of the sweeps as the grape-shot rattled among +them, and fell pattering into the water; and at the same +time a yell arose from the schooner, as if all the devils in +hell were broke loose. The next glimpse of moonlight +showed us her foretopmast hanging over the side.</p> + +<p>“Well done, my fine fellows!” shouted Captain Rose, +“bear a hand, and give them another dose. We must +keep them at arms’ length as long as we can.” The schooner +had by this time, braced up on the larboard tack, and was +standing the same way as ourselves, so as to bring her +broadside to bear upon us; and seemed to be trying to +edge out of the range of our guns.</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh,” said our gallant captain, “is that your play, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +old boy? You want to pepper us at a distance: that’ll +never do. Starboard, my boy!—So! steady! Now, my +lads, fire way!”—And again our little bark shook with the +explosion. The schooner was not slow in returning the +compliment. One of her shot lodged in our hull and +another sent the splinters flying out of the boat on the +booms. Immediately after she fired, she stood away before +the wind, and, rounding our stern at a respectful distance, +she crawled up on the other side of us, as fast almost as if +we had been at anchor, with a wish apparently to cut off +our escape in that direction. But he was playing a deeper +game. A long, dark, unbroken cloud was passing over +the moon, which threw its black shadow over the water, +and partially concealed the movements of the pirate. When +it cleared away again, he was braced sharp up on the larboard +tack, standing across our bows, with the intention +of raking us.</p> + +<p>“Starboard the helm!—Brace sharp up!—Bear a hand, +my fine fellows!”—And, before she had time to take advantage +of her position, the Albion again presented her +broadside. The flash from the pirate’s guns was quickly +followed by the report of ours, and we heard immediately +the loud clattering of blocks on board of her, as if some +sail had come down by the run. At this moment, I thought +I heard some strange noise astern, and, running aft, I +plainly distinguished the sound of muffled oars, and, immediately +after, saw a small dark line upon the water.</p> + +<p>“Aft, here, small-arm men!” shouted I.</p> + +<p>“Boat, ahoy!—Boat, ahoy!”—A loud and wild cheer +rose from the boat; and the men in her, finding that caution +would no longer avail them, evidently redoubled their +efforts at their oars.</p> + +<p>“Fire!” shouted the captain, while a blue light he had +just ignited threw a pale unearthly glare over the ship’s +tafferel, and showed us our new and unexpected enemy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +It was the pirate’s boat, which she had dropped during the +partial obscurity I spoke of, intending to board us a-head +herself, while the boat’s crew attacked us astern. It was +fortunate that we happened to hear them—three minutes +more and nothing could have saved us. There was a set +of the most ferocious-looking desperadoes I had ever seen, +armed to the teeth; and the boat (a large one) was crowded +with them. Deadly was the effect of our fire. Four or +five of the men at the oars were tumbled over on their faces; +but their places were instantly supplied by others, who, +with loud yells for revenge, bent desperately to their oars. +In a few minutes the boat shot up under the mizen-chains, +while the bullets that were raining down upon them from +above only rendered them more desperate. The living +trampled upon the dying and the dead, in their eagerness +to board; and, in a thick swarm, the blood-thirsty scoundrels +came yelling over the bulwarks. A sharp and well-directed +fire staggered them for a moment, and sent several +of them to their last account. We now threw aside the +muskets, for cutlasses and tomahawks. Hand to hand, +foot to foot, desperate and deadly was the struggle.</p> + +<p>“Down with them, my lads!” shouted Rose. “Hew the +blood-thirsty villains to pieces. No quarter! no quarter!—show +them such mercy as they would show you!”</p> + +<p>Short and bloody was the conflict; several of the pirates +had been killed, the deck was slippery with blood, and the +rest were keeping their ground with difficulty. I had a long +and severe hand-to-hand fight with one of them. We had +each received desperate wounds, when his foot slipped on +the bloody deck. I gave him a severe stroke on the head +with a tomahawk, and, after a deadly struggle on the gangway, +tumbled him backwards overboard. The moon shone +bright out at the moment, and fell full upon his face. +Merciful heaven!—my brain reeled, I staggered against a +gun, and became insensible—that face, Mr. Stewart, haunts +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +my dreams to this hour with its ghastly, despairing expression. +It was the long-lost Henry’s—I was my brother’s +murderer! (Here the poor fellow hid his face in his hands, +and groaned with agony. I pitied him from my heart; +but I knew that sorrow such as his “will not be comforted” +in the moment of its strength; so I sat in silence beside +him, till his first burst of grief was over, and then I endeavoured +calmly and coolly to reason with him on the +subject, and to persuade him, by all the arguments I could +think of, that he had no cause to reproach himself with +what had happened).</p> + +<p>“It is kindly meant of you, Mr. Stewart (said he, mournfully +shaking his head), kindly meant, but in vain! I +know that I was only acting in self-defence—that it was +life against life—that I was perfectly justified, in the eyes +of men, in taking the life of him who would have taken +mine—but I cannot drive that last despairing look from +my memory. I feel as if my brother’s blood were crying +out against my soul. O my poor Harry! would that the +blow had fallen on my head instead of thine!—would that +I had had time to tell thee how fondly I loved thee, how +freely I forgave thee!</p> + +<p>But I beg pardon, Mr. Stewart;—I must go on with +my tale. Ten of the pirates were lying dead on the deck, +and five of our poor fellows; the bodies of the former were +immediately thrown overboard, and the others were laid +side by side amidships, till we could find time to give them +Christian burial. Our last lucky shot had prevented the +pirate from carrying the other part of his scheme into effect: +the moon was now shining out full and clear, and by her +light we saw that her throat halyards had been shot away, +and her main-sail was flapping over the quarter; there were +hands aloft, reaving new halyards, and busily employed +about the mast-head, as if it were crippled. “We have +had fighting enough for one bout,” said Captain Rose; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +“we must run for it now.” Our main-top-gallant mast was +hanging over the side, and our sails were riddled with the +schooner’s shot; she had evidently been firing high, to +disable us, that she might carry us by boarding. We +clapped on all the sail we could, served out grog to the +men, and lay down at our quarters. We were not suffered +to remain at peace long: the moment the schooner perceived +our intention, she edged away after us, and having +repaired her damage, set her main-sail again; and, as the +wind was still light, with the assistance of her remaining +sweeps, came crawling up again in-shore of us. “Scoundrels!” +muttered the captain, “they will stick to us like +leeches as long as there is a drop of blood left on board.”</p> + +<p>Again we saw the flash of her gun, and the smoke curling +white in the moonbeam. The shot told with fatal +effect; our main-top-sail-yard creaked, bent, and snapped +in the slings, falling forward in two pieces.</p> + +<p>The loud cheers of the pirate crew came faintly over the +water; but our brave fellows, nothing daunted, responded +to them heartily.</p> + +<p>“They have winged us, my lads!” said our gallant captain; +“but we will die game at all events.” The men +answered him with another cheer, and swore they would +go to the bottom rather than yield. We blazed away at +the schooner, but in vain; she had been severely taught to +respect us; our shot fell far short, while she, with her long +metal, kept dropping shot after shot into us with deadly +precision. We tried to close with her; but she saw her +advantage, and kept it; all that we could do was to stand +steadily on, the men lying down under the shelter of the +bulwarks. A faint dull sound now fell upon our ears, like +the report of a distant gun. “Thank heaven!” said I, +“our guns have spoken to some purpose; some of the +cruisers have taken the alarm.” We immediately burnt a +blue light, and threw up a couple of rockets. In a few +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +minutes a shout of joy burst from the crew, a small glimmering +star appeared in the distance, which flickered for a +moment, and then increased to a strong, steady, glaring, +light; at the same time, we heard a second report, much +nearer and clearer than before. Alarmed at the near +approach of the stranger, which was now distinctly visible, +standing towards us under a press of sail, the pirate, determined +to have another brush with us, bore up, and closed +with us. But we were prepared for him; he was evidently +staggered by our warm reception; and, giving us a parting +broadside, hove round, stood in under the dark shadow of +the land, and we soon lost sight of him.</p> + +<p>The stranger proved to be H.M. sloop Porcupine. She +hove to when she neared us, and sent a boat on board. +She had heard the report of our guns, and hastened to the +scene of action, just in the very nick of time to save us. +The lieutenant complimented the captain and crew on their +gallant defence, and hastened on board the sloop again, to +make his report. The boat soon returned, with a gang of +hands to assist in repairing our damages; and on the evening +of the next day, we were safely at anchor. When the +excitement of the action was over, the pain of my wounds +and the agitation of my mind brought on a violent attack +of fever. During my delirium, the vision of my dying +brother was ever before me; and in my madness I twice +made an attempt upon my own life. At length the goodness +of my constitution triumphed over the violence of my +disorder; but my peace of mind was gone for ever. My +worthy friend, the captain, to whom I confided my story, +did everything in his power to rouse me from my sorrow, +and to reconcile me to myself; but in vain. The sight of +my brother had recalled the vivid recollection of by-gone +scenes, which I had been for years steeling my heart to +forget; my spirit was broken, I became listless and indifferent, +and no longer felt any interest in my profession. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +I did my duty, to be sure; but it was mechanically—from +the force of habit. Captain Rose was ceaseless in his kindness. +When, on our return home, I expressed my determination +not to go to sea again, he represented my conduct +during the action, and on other occasions, in such glowing +terms, to the owners, that they settled a small annuity +upon me, in consideration of the wounds I had received +in their service. It was with the deepest regret I took +leave of my worthy friend and captain.</p> + +<p>“I can never forget,” said he, “that, but for you, my +children would have been fatherless, my wife a widow; +whenever you need the assistance of a friend, Douglas, +apply to me with as much confidence as to a brother.”</p> + +<p>He then offered to evince his regard in a more substantial +manner, which I firmly but gratefully declined. I +wrote to him afterwards, telling him that I had settled in +this neighbourhood, and requesting him to make arrangements +that my annuity might be made payable to a certain +firm in Glasgow. In reply, he wrote me a long and +affectionate letter. It was the first and last I ever had +from him; he died soon afterwards. It is now five years +since I took up my abode here, and I feel the weakness +and infirmities of age creeping fast upon me. Oh! how +happily will I lay down the weary load of life!</p> + +<p>“Douglas,” said I, when he had finished his story, +“you certainly have had grievous sorrows and trials; but +you have borne them nobly, except in wilfully attaching +the odium of crime to the unfortunate circumstances of your +brother’s death.”</p> + +<p>“Would that I could think as you do!” said he.</p> + +<p>We parted: and four years elapsed before we met again. +I had, in the meantime, commenced practice as a surgeon in +Glasgow, and my professional avocations kept me too constantly +employed to allow of my leaving the town. At +last, after a severe attack of illness, I was recommended +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +to go to the sea-side for a few months; and my thoughts +immediately recurred to my old friend. I took a lodging +in Rothesay, and next morning went down to the beach, +where I saw the old man just preparing to put off.</p> + +<p>“Here I am again, Douglas,” said I.</p> + +<p>“Sir!” replied he, looking at me at first doubtingly, +for illness had greatly reduced me. “Ah! Mr. Stewart, +is that you? I thought you had forgotten me.”</p> + +<p>“Then you did me injustice, Douglas; I have often and +often regretted that the pressure of business prevented my +visiting you again. By the by, I was reminded of you in +rather an extraordinary way lately.”</p> + +<p>“How was that, sir?”</p> + +<p>“On my way down here, a few days since, the steamer +touched at Greenock. I was standing on the quay when a +poor fellow, a passenger in a vessel just arrived, fell from +the gangway, and was taken up insensible. I immediately +bled him; and, seeing that he appeared to be seriously injured, +I determined, as I had no other particular call upon +my time, to remain beside him till he recovered. I had +him carried to a small lodging in the neighbourhood, where +he soon partially recovered; and, having prescribed for +him, I left him, desiring that I might be sent for if any +change took place. During the night he had a violent +attack of fever. I was sent for; when I arrived, I found +him delirious; he was raving about Cuba, and ships, and +pirates, and fifty other things that immediately recalled +you to my remembrance. When he came to his senses +again—</p> + +<p>“‘Doctor! tell me the truth,’ said he: ‘am I not +dying?’</p> + +<p>“‘No,’ replied I; ‘your present symptoms are favourable; +everything depends upon your keeping your mind +and body quiet.’</p> + +<p>“‘Quiet mind!’ muttered he, with a bitter smile on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +his countenance. ‘It is not that I fear death, doctor; I +think I could willingly depart in peace, if I had but been +allowed time to find the person whom I came to Scotland +in search of.’</p> + +<p>“‘And who is that?’</p> + +<p>“‘A fisherman at Rothesay.’</p> + +<p>“He mentioned the name; but at this moment I forget it. +Let me see—it was—ay, it was Ponsonby—Charles Ponsonby.”</p> + +<p>Douglas started, and turned pale.</p> + +<p>“Ponsonby!” exclaimed he; “that was <em>my</em> name, my +father’s name! Who can he be? Perhaps some old shipmate +of poor Harry’s. I will go directly and see him.” +And he turned as if to depart.</p> + +<p>“Gently, gently, my friend,” said I, detaining him; “I +must go with you. When I left the poor fellow under the +charge of a medical man at Greenock, he was greatly +better; but he had received some severe internal injury, +and he cannot live long. A sudden surprise might hasten +his death. I must go with you to prevent accidents.”</p> + +<p>We went on board the next steamer that started, and in +two hours we landed at Greenock. I led the way to the +small lodging in which I had left my patient; and leaving +Douglas at the door, went in to inquire into the state of +the sufferer’s health, and to prepare him for his visitor. I +found him asleep; but his was not the slumber that refreshes—the +restless and unquiet spirit within was disturbing +the rest of the fevered and fatigued body. His flushed +cheek lay upon one arm, while his other was every now +and then convulsively raised above his head, and his lips +moved with indistinct mutterings.</p> + +<p>“He is asleep,” said I to Douglas; “we must wait till +he awakens.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, let me look at him,” said he; “it can do no harm. +He must be an old shipmate of poor Harry’s; perhaps he +has some memento of him for me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +“Very well,” said I; “you may come in; but make as +little noise as possible.”</p> + +<p>We walked up gently to the bed; Douglas looked earnestly +at the sleeper, and, suddenly raising his clasped +hands, he exclaimed—</p> + +<p>“Merciful heaven! it is Henry himself!”</p> + +<p>The poor patient started with a wild and fevered look.</p> + +<p>“Who called me? I thought I heard Charles’ voice! +Where am I? Give way in the boat!—oh, spare me, spare +me, Charles!—Fire!—Down with them! Hurra!”—And, +waving his hands above his head, he sunk down again on +has bed, exhausted.</p> + +<p>He soon fell into a deep slumber, which lasted for some +hours. I was sitting by his bedside when he awoke.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel now?” said I.</p> + +<p>“O doctor! I am dying. I have been dreaming: I +thought I heard the voice of one I have deeply injured—nay, +I dreamt I <em>saw</em> him; but changed, how changed!—and +I—I have been the cause of it.”</p> + +<p>Here he was interrupted by the smothered sobs of poor +Douglas, or Charles, as I now must call him.</p> + +<p>“Who is that? there is somebody else in the room,” +said he; and, drawing the curtain aside, he saw his brother. +“Then it was no dream! O Charles!” and, turning +round, he buried his face in the pillow. Douglas sprang +forward, and, throwing himself on the bed, gave way to a +violent burst of emotion.</p> + +<p>“Henry! dear Henry! look at me—it <em>is</em> your brother, +Henry!”</p> + +<p>The dying man groaned. “I cannot look you in the face, +Charles,” said he, “till you say you have forgiven me.”</p> + +<p>“Forgiven you!” replied the other; “bless you! bless +you, Henry! if you did but know the load of remorse that +the sight of you has relieved me from! Thank heaven I +was <em>not</em> your murderer!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +“And can you forget the past, Charles?” said Henry. +“Do not my ears deceive me? Do you really forgive +me?”</p> + +<p>“Freely, fully, from my heart!” was the reply; “the joy +of meeting you again, even thus, repays me for all I have +suffered.”</p> + +<p>“O Charles!” again ejaculated Henry, “you were always +generous and forgiving; but this is more than I expected +from you.”</p> + +<p>I was now going to leave the room; but my patient, +noticing my intention, begged me to remain.</p> + +<p>“Stay, doctor, and listen to my confession; concealment +is no longer necessary, for I feel that the hand of death is +upon me, and that, in a few short hours, my career of sin, +and shame, and sorrow, will be at an end.”</p> + +<p>“My poor fellow,” said I, “I have heard the first part +of your story from your brother; you had better defer the +remainder till you have recovered from your present agitation; +I will come again to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow, sir!” said he; “where may I be before to-morrow? +Oh, let me speak now, while time and strength +are allowed. It will do me good, sir; it will relieve my +mind, and be a comfort to my troubled spirit.”</p> + +<p>Feeling that he was right, I seated myself, while he thus +commenced his tale:—</p> + +<p>“You remember, Charles, our last sad parting—when +we stood”——</p> + +<p>“Mention it not, Harry!” groaned his brother—“there +is agony in the recollection. Poor Julia!”</p> + +<p>“When I left you, I was maddened with sorrow and +remorse; all night long I wandered about in a state of +distraction, and, when morning dawned, I fell down by the +roadside, overcome with fatigue and misery. How long I +lay I know not; when I awoke, the sun was high in the +heaven; and, during one brief moment of forgetfulness, I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +rejoiced in his brightness. Alas! it was but for a moment; +my guilty love, my treachery, my loss, all flashed upon my +mind at once, and I started to my feet, and hurried madly +onwards, as if I hoped, by the rapidity of my movements, +to escape from my own thoughts. Hunger at last compelled +me to enter a small public-house, where I fell in +with a poor sailor, who was on his way to Liverpool in +search of a ship. The sight of this man turned my thoughts +into another channel. ‘Double-dyed traitor that I am,’ +muttered I, ‘England is no longer a home for me. She +for whose love I broke a father’s heart and betrayed a brother’s +confidence, has been torn from me; and what more +have I to live for here?’ My mind was made up.</p> + +<p>“‘My lad,’ said I to the sailor, ‘if you have no objection, +we will travel together; I am bound to Liverpool myself.’</p> + +<p>“‘With all my heart,’ said he; ‘I like to sail in company.’</p> + +<p>“I engaged to work my passage out before the mast, in +a ship bound to Jamaica, intending to turn my education +to some account there if possible, or, at all events, to remain +there as long as my money lasted. When I saw the +shores of my native land sink in the distance, I felt that I +was a forlorn and miserable outcast—that the last link was +severed that bound me to existence. A dark change came +over me; a spirit of desperation and reckless indifference; +a longing wish to end my miseries at once. I strove against +the evil spirit; and for a while succeeded. On our arrival +at Kingston, I endeavoured in vain to obtain employment; +my stock of money was fast decreasing; and when that was +gone, where was I to turn for more? Poverty and wretchedness +threatened me from without; remorse was busy +within. ‘Why should I bear this weary load of life?’ said +I, as I madly paced the shore, ‘when one bold plunge +would bury it for ever?’</p> + +<p>“I threw myself headlong into the water; and, though +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +an excellent swimmer, I resolutely kept my face beneath +the surface; yes, with desperate determination, I strove to +<em>force</em> myself into the presence of that dread Being whom I +had so grievously offended. When I came to my senses +again, I was lying on a part of the beach I was unacquainted +with; a tall, handsome, dark-featured young man, was +bending over me, and, within a few yards of where I lay, +a small light boat was drawn up on the shore.</p> + +<p>“‘So you have opened your eyes at last, my friend,’ +said the man; ‘you have had a narrow squeak for it. +When I dragged you out of the water, like a drowned rat, +I thought all was over with you. Have you as many lives +as a cat that you can afford to throw away <em>one</em> in such a +foolish manner?’</p> + +<p>“‘Life! I am sick of it,’ answered I.</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ said he, ‘if that is the case, why not throw it +away like a man, among men? Come with me, and I +will furnish you with active employment to drive the devil +out of your mind. But here, before we start, take some +of the cordial to cheer you.’</p> + +<p>“I was chilled and exhausted, and took a hearty draught. +I felt its warmth steal through my frame—it mounted to +my brain—I laughed aloud; I felt that I was equal to +any act of desperation. Alas! I little knew the snare I +was falling into. We launched the boat and sprang into +it; and my companion, seizing the oars, pulled rapidly +along the beach. After rowing some distance, we saw a +light glimmering amid the bushes; it was now nearly +dusk; my companion lay on his oars, and gave a long, +low, peculiar whistle, which was immediately answered. +He then ran the boat ashore; two men sprang in, who +relieved him at the oars; and we again held on our way. +There was a great deal of conversation carried on in a low +tone; and from what I heard of it, half tipsy as I was, I +inferred that my companion, whom the other men addressed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +with great respect, was a naval officer on some +secret duty. Just as we were crossing the mouth of a +narrow creek, a light four-oared gig dashed out after us, +a voice hailed us in English to lie on our oars, and, when +we still held on our course, a musket ball whizzed over us, +to enforce obedience.</p> + +<p>“‘The piratical rascals!’ exclaimed the young man; +‘if they lay hold of us, we are all dead men.’ ‘Here!’ continued +he, seizing a musket, which lay in the stern sheets, +and giving me another, ‘fire for your life!’</p> + +<p>“I was half mad with fever, and the effects of my late +draught; and, under the persuasion that our lives were +in danger, I fired. The bowman of the gig fell, and we +rapidly left her. We came at last to a narrow lagune, +close to the low shore of which lay a small schooner at +anchor, with sails bent, and every preparation for a start.</p> + +<p>“‘Welcome on board the little Spitfire, my man!’ said +the young stranger; ‘we want hands—will you ship?’</p> + +<p>“‘What colours do you sail under,’ replied I.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, not particular to a shade,’ said he; ‘any that happens +to suit us for the time being: black is rather a favourite.’</p> + +<p>“‘Black!’ exclaimed I; ‘I thought you were king’s men. +I won’t go with you.’</p> + +<p>“‘It is too late, my lad—go you must! Besides, there +is no safety for you on shore now; you shot one of the +crew of the cruiser’s gig, and they will have life for life, +depend upon it.’</p> + +<p>“The whole horror of my situation now burst upon me. +I was in a fearful strait; but I made up my mind at once, +to deceive the pirates, by appearing to be contented with +my situation, and to take advantage of the first opportunity +that presented itself to escape.</p> + +<p>“‘Well,’ said I, ‘if that’s the case, I had better die +fighting bravely like a man, than hang like a dog from the +yard-arm of a man-of-war.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +“‘Bravely said, my hearty!’ replied the young leader; +‘but we must be moving—the blue jackets will be after +us; that shot of yours will bring the whole hornet’s nest +about our ears.’</p> + +<p>“We got under way; and, after rounding the east end +of Jamaica, we stood away for the Cuba shore. The very +first time we came to an anchor, I made an attempt to +escape; I had saved part of my provisions for some days +before, and concealed it, in readiness to take with me. +We were lying close to the shore, and the darkness of the +night would, I thought, conceal my movements; I was +just slipping over the schooner’s side, to swim ashore, when +I felt a touch upon my shoulder, and, turning round, a +dark lantern flashed in my face, and I saw the young +pirate standing beside me. He held a cocked pistol to my +head. ‘One touch of this trigger,’ said he, ‘and you +would require no more looking after. My eye has been +upon you all along; you cannot escape me; do not attempt +it again—the consequences may be fatal.’</p> + +<p>“From that hour I was aware that I was constantly and +narrowly watched. Except in the one instance of the +gig’s man, whom I had fired at under a delusion, it was +my good fortune as yet to have escaped imbruing my +hands in blood. During the action with the Albion, I was +sent in the boat, under the particular charge of the mate. +‘Keep your eye on this fellow,’ said the captain; ‘If he +flinches for a moment, blow his brains out instantly; we +must <em>glue him</em> to us with blood. I will keep her in play +till you creep alongside; and, once on board, cut every +one down before you—give no quarter.’</p> + +<p>“My blood ran cold at this horrible order, and I determined +upon doing all in my power to counteract its execution. +I was delighted when you discovered our approach +and the blue light flashed from your stern; for I dreaded +the scene of massacre that must have ensued, if we had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +boarded you unawares. I sprang on deck with the rest, +in hopes that I might be able to prevent some bloodshed; +but, when I was violently attacked, my passions were +aroused, and I fought desperately for my life. Just as +you tumbled me over the gangway, the gleam of moonshine +showed me your face. I recognised you immediately; +and, when I rose to the surface of the water again after +my plunge, I blessed heaven that I had been spared the +guilt of murder. I reached the boat which was still hanging +under your quarter, cut the painter, and in the confusion, +escaped unnoticed. I immediately made for the +shore; and after many hair-breadth escapes from my +old associates, I volunteered on board one of the cruisers +on the Jamaica station. At length she returned home, +the crew were paid off, and I determined to seek you out. +On inquiring at the office of the owners of the Albion, in +Liverpool, they told me that the late chief mate had +settled, some years before, in the neighbourhood of Rothesay, +in the Isle of Bute, and was still alive. Thank +heaven! I have found you at last! I should like to live, +Charles, to prove to you my sorrow and repentance for +the past; but, as heaven has willed it otherwise, the blessed +assurance of your forgiveness will lighten death of half its +terrors.”</p> + +<p>The poor fellow breathed his last a few days afterwards. +Douglas mourned long and deeply for his brother’s death; +but after time had soothed his grief, he became quite an +altered man. His mind and spirits recovered their elasticity, +after the load which had so long weighed them +down was removed. He did not resume his own name; +but lived many years afterwards, contented and happy, in +the humble station of a fisherman; and it was not till +after his death that his old companions discovered how +justly the name of “Gentleman Douglas” had been applied +to him. His tombstone bore the simple inscription, “Charles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +Douglas Ponsonby, eldest son of the late Reverend T. +Ponsonby.”</p> + +<p>I often wander, in the calm summer evenings, to the +quiet churchyard, and return a sadder, but, I hope, a better +man, after meditating upon the troublous and adventurous +life, and peaceful and Christian death of the +<span class="smcap">Rothesay Fisherman</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<h2>LEAVES</h2> +<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><strong>from</strong></span></p> +<p class="center"><strong>THE DIARY OF AN AGED SPINSTER.</strong></p> + +<p>The poet of <span class="smcap">The Elegy</span> <em>par excellence</em>, +hath written two lines, which run thus—</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +“Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: .4em;">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”</span></p> + +<p>Now, I never can think of these lines but they remind me +of the tender, delicate, living, breathing, and neglected +flowers that bud, blossom, shed their leaves, and die, in +cold unsunned obscurity—flowers that were formed to shed +their fragrance around a man’s heart, and to charm his +eye—but which, though wandering melancholy and alone +in the wilderness where they grow, he passeth by with +neglect, making a companion of his loneliness. But, to +drop all metaphor—where will you find a flower more interesting +than a spinster of threescore and ten, of sixty, of +fifty, or of forty? They have, indeed, “wasted their sweetness +on the desert air.” Some call them “old maids;” but +it is a malicious appellation, unless it can be proved that +they have refused to be wives. I would always take the +part of a spinster; they are a peculiar people, far more +“sinned against than sinning.” Every blockhead thinks +himself at liberty to crack a joke upon them; and when he +says something, that he conceives to be wondrous smart, +about Miss Such-an-One and her cat or poodle dog, he +conceives himself a marvellous clever fellow; yea, even +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +those of her own sex who are below what is called a “certain +age” (what that age is, I cannot tell), think themselves +privileged to giggle at the expense of their elder sister. +Now, though there may be a degree of peevishness (and it +is not to be wondered at) amongst the sisterhood, yet with +them you will find the most sensitive tenderness of heart, +a delicacy that quivers, like the aspen leaf, at a breath, and +a kindliness of soul that a mother might envy—or rather, +for envy, shall I not write <em>imitate</em>? But ah! if their +history were told, what a chronicle would it exhibit of +blighted affections, withered hearts, secret tears, and midnight +sighs!</p> + +<p>The first spinster of whom I have a particular remembrance, +as belonging to her caste, was Diana Darling. It +is now six and twenty years since Diana paid the debt of +nature, up to which period, and for a few years before, she +rented a room in Chirnside. It was only a year or two +before her death that I became acquainted with her; and I +was then very young. But I never shall forget her kindness +towards me. She treated me as though I had been +her own child, or rather her grandchild, for she was then +very little under seventy years of age. She had always an +air of gentility about her; people called her “a betterish +sort o’ body.” And, although <em>Miss</em> and <em>Mistress</em> are becoming +general appellations now, twenty or thirty years +ago, upon the Borders, those titles were only applied to +particular persons or on particular occasions; and whether +their more frequent use now is to be attributed to the +schoolmaster being abroad or the dancing-master being +abroad, I cannot tell, but Diana Darling, although acknowledged +to be a “betterish sort o’ body,” never was spoken +of by any other term but “auld Diana,” or “auld Die.” +Well do I remember her flowing chintz gown, with short +sleeves, her snow-white apron, her whiter cap, and old kid +gloves, reaching to her elbows; and as well do I remember +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +how she took one of the common <em>blue cakes</em> which washer-women +use, and tying it up in a piece of woollen cloth, +dipped it in water, and daubed it round and round the +walls of her room, to give them the appearance of being +papered. I have often heard of and seen <em>stenciling</em> since; +but, rude as the attempt was, I am almost persuaded that +Diana was the first who put it in practice. To keep up +gentility putteth people to strange shifts, and often to +ridiculous ones—and to both of these extremities she was +driven. But I have hinted that she was a kind-hearted +creature; and, above all, do I remember her for the fine +old ballads which she sang to me. But there was one that +was an especial favourite with her, and a verse of which, if +I remember correctly, ran thus—</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“Fie, Lizzy Lindsay!</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sae lang in the mornins ye lie,</span><br /> + Mair fit ye was helping yer minny<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">To milk a’ the ewes and the kye.”</span></p> + +<p>Diana, however, was a woman of some education; and to +a relative she left a sort of history of her life, from which +the following is an extract:—</p> + +<p>“My father died before I was eighteen (so began Diana’s +narrative), and he left five of us—that is, my mother, two +sisters, a brother, and myself—five hundred pounds a-piece. +My sisters were both younger than me; but, within six +years after our father’s death, they both got married; and +my brother, who was only a year older than myself, left +the house also, and took a wife, so that there was nobody +but me and my mother left. Everybody thought there +was something very singular in this; for it was not natural +that the youngest should be taken and the auldest left; +and, besides, it was acknowledged that I was the best +faured,<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> and the best tempered in the family; and there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +could be no dispute but that my siller was as good as +theirs.</p> + +<p>I must confess, however, that, when I was but a lassie o’ +sixteen, I had drawn up wi’ one James Laidlaw—but I +should score out the word <em>one</em>, and just say that I had drawn +up wi’ <em>James Laidlaw</em>. He was a year, or maybe three, +aulder than me, and I kenned him when he was just a laddie, +at Mr. Wh——’s school in Dunse; but I took no notice +o’ him then in particular, and, indeed, I never did, until +one day that I was an errand down by Kimmerghame, and +I met James just coming out frae the gardens. It was the +summer season, and he had a posie in his hand, and a very +bonny posie it was. ‘Here’s a fine day, Diana,’ says he. +‘Yes, it is,’ says I.</p> + +<p>So we said nae mair for some time; but he keepit walking +by my side, and at last he said—‘What do ye think o’ +this posie?’ ‘It is very bonny, James,’ said I. ‘I think +sae,’ quoth he; ‘and if ye will accept it, there should naebody +be mair welcome to it.’ ‘Ou, I thank ye,’ said I, and +I blushed in a way—‘why should ye gie me it?’ ‘Never +mind,’ says he, ‘tak it for auld acquaintance sake—we +were at the school together.’</p> + +<p>So I took the flowers, and James keepit by my side, +and cracked to me a’ the way to my mother’s door, and I +cracked to him—and I really wondered that the road between +Kimmerghame and Dunse had turned sae short. It +wasna half the length that it used to be, or what I thought +it ought to be.</p> + +<p>But I often saw James Laidlaw after this; and somehow +or other I aye met him just as I was coming out o’ the kirk, +and weel do I recollect that, one Sabbath in particular, he +said to me—‘Diana, will ye no come out and tak a walk +after ye get your dinner?’ ‘I dinna ken, James,’ says I; +‘I doubt I daurna, for our folk are very particular, and +baith my faither and my mother are terribly against onything +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +like gaun about stravaigin on the Sundays.’ ‘Oh, +they need never ken where ye’re gaun,’ says he. ‘Weel, +I’ll try,’ says I, for by this time I had a sort o’ liking for +James. ‘Then,’ said he, ‘I’ll be at the Penny Stane at +four o’clock.’ ‘Very weel,’ quoth I.</p> + +<p>And, although baith my faither and mother said to me, +as I was gaun out—‘Where are ye gaun, lassie?’—‘Oh, +no very far,’ said I; and, at four o’clock, I met James at +the Penny Stane. I shall never forget the grip that he +gied my hand when he took it in his, and said—</p> + +<p>‘Ye hae been as good as your word, Diana.’</p> + +<p>We wandered awa doun by Wedderburn dyke, till we +came to the Blackadder, and then we sauntered down by +the river side, till we were opposite Kelloe—and, oh, it was +a pleasant afternoon. Everything round about us, aboon +us, and among our feet, seemed to ken it was Sunday—everything +but James and me. The laverock was singing +in the blue lift—the blackbirds were whistling in the hedges—the +mavis chaunted its loud sang frae the bushes on the +braes—the lennerts<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> were singing and chirming among +the whins—and the shelfa<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> absolutely seemed to follow ye +wi’ its three notes over again, in order that ye might learn +them.</p> + +<p>It was the happiest afternoon I ever spent. James grat, +and I grat. I got a scolding frae my faither and my mother +when I gaed hame, and they demanded to ken where I had +been; but the words that James had spoken to me bore me +up against their reproaches.</p> + +<p>Weel, it was very shortly (I daresay not six months +after my faither’s death), that James called at my mother’s, +and as he said, to bid us <em>farewell!</em> He took my mother’s +hand—I mind I saw him raise it to his lips, while the tears +were on his cheeks; and he was also greatly put about to +part wi’ my sisters; but to me he said—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +‘Ye’ll set me down a bit, Diana.’</p> + +<p>He was to take the coach for Liverpool—or at least, a +coach to take him on the road to that town, the next day; +and from there he was to proceed to the West Indies, to +meet an uncle who was to make him his heir.</p> + +<p>I went out wi’ him, and we wandered away down by +our auld walks; but, oh, he said little, and he sighed often, +and his heart was sad. But mine was as sad as his, and I +could say as little as him. I winna, I canna write a’ the +words and the vows that passed. He took the chain frae +his watch, and it was o’ the best gold, and he also took a +pair o’ Bibles frae his pocket, and he put the watch chain +and the Bibles into my hand, and—‘Diana,’ said he, ‘take +these, dear—keep them for the sake o’ your poor James, +and, as often as ye see them, think on him.’ I took them, +and wi’ the tears running down my cheeks—‘O James,’ +cried I, ‘this is hard!—hard!’</p> + +<p>Twice, ay thrice, we bade each other ‘<em>farewell</em>,’ and +thrice, after he had parted frae me, he cam running back +again, and, throwing his arms round my neck, cried—</p> + +<p>‘Diana! I canna leave ye!—promise me that ye will +never marry onybody else!’</p> + +<p>And thrice I promised him that I wouldna.</p> + +<p>But he gaed awa, and my only consolation was looking +at the Bibles, on one o’ the white leaves o’ the first volume +o’ which I found written, by his own hand, ‘<em>James Laidlaw +and Diana Darling vowed, that, if they were spared, they +would become man and wife; and that neither time, distance, +nor circumstances, should dissolve their plighted troth. Dated, +May 25th, 17—</em>.’</p> + +<p>These were cheering words to me; and I lived on them +for years, even after my younger sisters were married, +and I had ceased to hear from him. And, during that +time, for his sake, I had declined offers which my friends +said I was waur than foolish to reject. At least half a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +dozen good matches I let slip through my hands, and a’ +for the love o’ James Laidlaw who was far awa, and the +vows he had plighted to me by the side o’ the Blackadder. +And, although he hadna written to me for some years, I +couldna think that ony man could be so wicked as to write +words o’ falsehood and bind them up in the volume o’ +everlasting truth.</p> + +<p>But, about ten years after he had gane awa, James +Laidlaw came back to our neighbourhood; but he wasna +the same lad he left—for he was now a dark-complexioned +man, and he had wi’ him a mulatto woman, and +three bairns that called him <em>faither!</em> He was no longer +my James!</p> + +<p>My mother was by this time dead, and I expected naething +but that the knowledge o’ his faithlessness would +kill me too—for I had clung to hope till the last straw was +broken.</p> + +<p>I met him once during his stay in the country, and, +strange to tell, it was within a hundred yards o’ the very +spot where I first foregathered wi’ him, when he offered +me the posie.</p> + +<p>‘Ha! Die!’ said he, ‘my old girl, are you still alive? +I’m glad to see you. Is the old woman, your mother, living +yet?’ I was ready to faint, my heart throbbed as though +it would have burst. A’ the trials I had ever had were +naething to this; and he continued—‘Why, if I remember +right, there was once something like an old flame between +you and me.’ ‘O James! James!’ said I, ‘do you remember +the words ye wrote in the Bible, and the vows that ye +made me by the side of the Blackadder?’ ‘Ha! ha!’ +said he, and he laughed, ‘you are there, are you? I do +mind something of it. But, Die, I did not think that a +girl like you would have been such a fool as to remember +what a boy said to her.’</p> + +<p>I would have spoken to him again; but I remembered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +he was the husband of another woman—though she was a +mulatto—an’ I hurried away as fast as my fainting heart +would permit. I had but one consolation, and that was, +that, though he had married another, naebody could compare +her face wi’ mine.</p> + +<p>But it was lang before I got the better o’ this sair slight—ay, +I may say it was ten years and mair; and I had to +try to pingle and find a living upon the interest o’ my five +hundred pounds, wi’ ony other thing that I could turn my +hand to in a genteel sort o’ way.</p> + +<p>I was now getting on the wrang side o’ eight and thirty; +and that is an age when it isna prudent in a spinister to be +throwing the pouty side o’ her lip to any decent lad that +hauds out his hand, and says—‘Jenny, will ye tak me?’ +Often and often, baith by day and by night, did I think o’ +the good bargains I had lost, for the sake o’ my fause James +Laidlaw; and often, when I saw some o’ them that had come +praying to me, pass me on a Sunday, having their wives +wi’ their hands half round their waist on the horse behint +them—‘O James! fause James!’ I have said, ‘but for +trusting to you, and it would hae been me that would this +day been riding behint Mr. ——.’</p> + +<p>But I had still five hundred pounds, and sic fend as I +could make, to help what they brought to me. And, about +this time, there was one that had the character of being a +very respectable sort o’ a lad, one Walter Sanderson; he +was a farmer, very near about my own age, and altogether +a most prepossessing and intelligent young man. I first +met wi’ him at my youngest sister’s goodman’s +kirn,<a name="FNanchor_F_6" id="FNanchor_F_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_F_6" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> +and I must say, a better or a more gracefu’ dancer I never saw +upon a floor. He had neither the jumping o’ a mountebank, +nor the sliding o’ a play-actor, but there was an ease +in his carriage which I never saw equalled. I was particularly +struck wi’ him, and especially his dancing; and it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +so happened that he was no less struck wi’ me. I thought +he looked even better than James Laidlaw used to do—but +at times I had doubts about it. However, he had +stopped all the night at my brother-in-law’s as weel as +mysel; and when I got up to gang hame the next day, he +said he would bear me company. I thanked him, and said +I was obliged to him, never thinking that he would attempt +such a thing. But, just as the pony was brought out for +me to ride on (and the callant was to come up to Dunse +for it at night), Mr. Walter Sanderson mounted his horse, +and says he—</p> + +<p>‘Now, wi’ your permission, Miss Darling, I will see you +hame.’</p> + +<p>It would hae been very rude o’ me to hae said—‘No, I +thank you, sir,’ and especially at my time o’ life, wi’ twa +younger sisters married that had families; so I blushed, as +it were, and giein my powny a twitch, he sprang on to his +saddle, and came trotting along by my side. He was very +agreeable company; and, when he said, ‘I shall be most +happy to pay you a visit, Miss Darling,’ I didna think o’ +what I had said, until after that I had answered him, ‘I +shall be very happy to see ye, sir.’ And when I thought +o’ it my very cheek bones burned wi’ shame.</p> + +<p>But, howsoever, Mr. Sanderson was not long in calling +again—and often he did call, and my sisters and their guid-men +began to jeer me about him. Weel, he called and +called, for I daresay as good as three quarters of a year; +and he was sae backward and modest a’ the time that I +thought him a very remarkable man; indeed, I began to +think him every way superior to James Laidlaw.</p> + +<p>But at last he made proposals—I consented—the wedding-day +was set, and we had been cried in the kirk. It +was the fair day, just two days before we were to be married, +and he came into the house, and, after he had been +seated a while, and cracked in his usual kind way—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +‘Oh,’ says he, ‘what a bargain I hae missed the day! +There are four lots o’ cattle in the market, and I might hae +cleared four hundred pounds, cent. per cent., by them.’</p> + +<p>‘Losh me! Walter, then,’ says I, ‘why didna ye do it? +How did ye let sic a bargain slip through your fingers?’</p> + +<p>‘Woman,’ said he, ‘I dinna ken; but a man that is to +be married within eight and forty hours is excusable. I +came to the Fair without any thought o’ either buying or +selling—but just to see you, Diana—and I kenned there +wasna meikle siller necessary for that.’</p> + +<p>‘Losh, Walter, man,’ said I, ‘but that is a pity—and ye +say ye could mak cent. per cent. by the beasts?’</p> + +<p>‘’Deed could I,’ quoth he—‘I am sure o’ that.’</p> + +<p>‘Then, Walter,’ says I, ‘what is mine the day is to be +yours the morn, I may say; and it would be a pity to lose +sic a bargain.’</p> + +<p>Therefore I put into his hands an order on a branch +bank, that had been established in Dunse, for every farthing +that I was worth in the world, and Walter kissed me, and +went out to get the money frae the bank and buy the +cattle.</p> + +<p>But he hadna been out an hour, when ane o’ my brothers-in-law +called, and I thought he looked unco dowie. So I +began to tell him about the excellent bargain that Walter +had made, and what I had done. But the man started +frae his seat as if he were crazed, and, without asking me +ony questions, he only cried—‘Gracious! Diana! hae ye +been sic an idiot?’ and, rushing out o’ the house, ran to +the bank.</p> + +<p>He left me in a state that I canna describe; I neither +kenned what to do nor what to think. But within half an +hour he returned, and he cried out as he entered—‘Diana, +ye are ruined! He has taken in you and everybody else. +The villain broke yesterday. He is off! Ye may bid fare +weel to your siller!’ ‘Wha is off?’ cried I, and I was in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +sic a state I was hardly able to speak. ‘Walter Sanderson!’ +answered my brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>I believe I went into hysterics; for the first thing I mind +o’ after his saying so, was a dozen people standing round +about me—some slapping at the palms o’ my hands, and +others laving water on my breast and temples, until they +had me as wet as if they had douked me in Pollock’s Well.</p> + +<p>I canna tell how I stood up against this clap o’ misery. +It was near getting the better o’ me. For a time I really +hated the very name and the sight o’ man, and I said, as +the song says, that</p> + +<p class="center">‘Men are a’ deceivers.’</p> + +<p>But this was not the worst o’ it—I had lost my all, and I +was now forced into the acquaintanceship of poverty and +dependence. I first went to live under the roof o’ my +youngest sister, who had always been my favourite; but, +before six months went round, I found that she began to +treat me just as though I had been a servant, ordering +me to do this and do the other; and sometimes my dinner +was sent ben to me into the kitchen; and the servant lassies, +seeing how their mistress treated me, considered that they +should be justified in doing the same—and they did the +same. Many a weary time have I lain down upon my bed +and wished never to rise again, for my spirit was weary o’ +this world. But I put up wi’ insult after insult, until flesh +and blood could endure it no longer. Then did I go to +my other sister, and she hardly opened her mouth to me +as I entered her house. I saw that I might gang where I +liked—I wasna welcome there. Before I had been a week +under her roof, I found that the herd’s dog led a lady’s life +to mine. I was forced to leave her too.</p> + +<p>And, as a sort o’ last alternative, just to keep me in existence, +I began a bit shop in a neighbouring town, and +took in sewing and washing; and, after I had tried them +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +awhile, and found that they would hardly do, I commenced +a bit school, at the advice of the minister’s wife, and learned +bairns their letters and the catechism, and knitting and +sewing. I also taught them (for they were a’ girls) how to +work their samplers, and to write, and to cast accounts. +But what vexed and humbled me more than all I had suffered, +was, that one night, just after I had let my scholars +away, an auld hedger and ditcher body, almost sixty years +o’ age, came into the house, and ‘How’s a’ wi’ ye the +nicht?’ says he, though I had never spoken to the man +before. But he took off his bonnet, and, pulling in a chair, +drew a seat to the fire. I was thunderstruck! But I was +yet mair astonished and ashamed, when the auld body, +sleeking down his hair and his chin, had the assurance to +make love to me!</p> + +<p>‘There is the door, sir!’ cried I. And when he didna +seem willing to understand me, I gripped him by the +shouthers, and showed him what I meant.</p> + +<p>Yet quite composedly he turned round to me and said, +‘I dinna see what is the use o’ the like o’ this—it is true I +am aulder than you, but you are at a time o’ life now that +ye canna expect ony young man to look at ye. Therefore, +ye had better think twice before ye turn me to the door. +Ye will find it just as easy a life being the wife o’ a hedger +as keeping a school—rather mair sae I apprehend, and mair +profitable too.’ I had nae patience wi’ the man. I thought +my sisters had insulted me; but this offer o’ the hedger’s +wounded me mair than a’ that they had done.</p> + +<p>‘O James Laidlaw!’ cried I, when I was left to mysel, +‘what hae ye brought me to! My sisters dinna look after +me. My parting wi’ them has gien them an excuse to forget +that I exist. My brother is far frae me, and he is ruled +by a wife; and I hae been robbed by another o’ the little +that I had. I am like a withered tree in a wilderness, +standing its lane—I will fa’ and naebody will miss me. I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +am sick, and there are none to haud my head. My throat +is parched and my lips dry, and there are none to bring +me a cup o’ water. There is nae <em>living thing</em> that I can ca’ +mine. And some day I shall be found a stiffened corpse +in my bed, with no one near me to close my eyes in death +or perform the last office of humanity! For I am alone—I +am by myself—I am forgotten in the world; and my +latter years, if I have a long life, will be a burden to +strangers.’”</p> + +<p>But Diana Darling did not so die. Her gentleness, her +kindness, caused her to be beloved by many who knew not +her history; and, when the last stern messenger came to +call her hence, many watched with tears around her bed +of death, and many more in sorrow followed her to the +grave. So ran the few leaves in the diary of a spinster—and +the reader will forgive our interpolations.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<h2>GEORDIE WILLISON,</h2> +<p class="center"><strong>AND THE HEIRESS OF CASTLE GOWER.</strong></p> + +<p>Antiquaries know very well that one of the oldest of the +Nova Scotia knights, belonging to Scotland, was Sir Marmaduke +Maitland of Castle Gower, situated in one of the +southern counties of the kingdom; but they may not know +so well that Sir Marmaduke held his property under a strict +entail to heirs male, whom failing, to heirs female, under +the condition of bearing the arms and name of the Castle +Gower family; or that he was married to Catherine Maxwell, +a near relative of the family of Herries, in the Stewartry +of Kirkcudbright—a person of no very great beauty, +but sprightly, and of good manners. This woman had been +brought up in France, and was deeply tinged with French +feelings. She had French cooks and French milliners about +her in abundance; and a French lackey was considered by +her as indispensable as meat and drink. Then she was +represented as being a proud, imperious woman, with a +bad temper; which was rendered worse by her continued +fretting, in consequence of not having any children to her +husband; whereby the property would go away to a son +of her husband’s brother. Sir Marmaduke and his lady had +a town-house in Edinburgh, in which they lived for the +greater part of the year, situated so as to look to the North +Back of the Canongate, and with an entry to it from that +street, but the principal gate was from the north +side. A garden was attached to the house; and the +stables and coach-houses were situated at the foot of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +garden. All these premises are now removed; but Sir +Marmaduke Maitland’s house—or, as it was styled, the +Duke’s house—at the period of this story, was a very +showy house, and very well known to the inhabitants of +Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>Now, at the foot of Leith Wynd, there lived, about the +same time, a poor widow woman, called Widow Willison, +who had a son and a daughter. She was the widow of a +William Willison, who earned a livelihood by the humble +means of serving the inhabitants of Edinburgh with water, +which he conveyed to their doors by the means of an ass; +and was, in consequence, called Water Willie—a good, +simple, honest creature; much liked by his customers, from +whom he never wanted a good diet; and had no fault, but +that of disliking the element in which he dealt. He liked +he said very well to drive water to the great folks, and he +wished them “meikle guid o’t; but, for his ain pairt, he +preferred whisky, which, he thocht, was o’ a warmer and +mair congenial nature, and better suited to the inside o’ a +rational animal, like man.”</p> + +<p>Strange enough, it was to William Willison’s dislike to +water that people attributed his death. It would have been +more logical—but scandal is a bad logician—to have debited +that event to the water; for, though it will not conceal +that Willie was drunk when he died, it was as notorious +that it was not because he was drunk that he died—but +that he died because his water-cart went over him when +he was drunk. However that may be, and there is no use +in wasting much reasoning on the point, William left, at +his death, a widow and two children, with nothing to support +them.</p> + +<p>Widow Willison was a good, religious woman, of the old +school, believing in the transcendent influence of mere +faith, as carrying along with it all the minor points of justification +by works, election, and others, in the same way +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +that a river takes with it the drops of rain that fall from +the heavens, and carries all down to the ocean. She was +an excellent example of the influence of a pure religion—kind +and generous in her sentiments; and, though left with +two children, and no food to satisfy their hunger, patient +and hopeful—placing implicit trust and confidence in the +Author of all good, and viewing murmuring as a sin against +His providence.</p> + +<p>Let us introduce, now, George Willison, her son, an +extraordinary individual, apparently destined to be more +notorious than his father, in so much as his character was +composed of that mixture of simplicity, bordering on silliness, +and shrewd sagacity in the ordinary affairs of life, +which is often observed in people of Scotland. Though +common, the character is nearly inexplicable to the +analyst; for the individual seems conscious of the weaker +part of his character, but he appears to love it, and often +makes it subservient to the stronger elements of his mind, +by using it at once as a cloak and a foil to them. George, +like the other individuals of his peculiar species, followed +no trade. Sometimes he acted as a cadie, a letter-carrier, +a messenger, a porter, a water-carrier—in any capacity, in +short, in which he could, with no continuous labour, earn +a little money. To work at any given thing for longer +time than a day, was a task which he generally condemned, +as being wearisome and monotonous, and more suited to +the inferior animals than to man. His clothes, like his +avocations, were many-coloured, and suited the silly half +of his character, without altogether depriving him of the +rights of a citizen, or making him the property and sport +of school-boys. Like his employments, his earnings were +chancy and various, ranging between a shilling to five +shillings a-week, including gratuities, which his conceit +prompted him to call “helps,” with a view to avoid the +imputation of living upon alms—a name, in the Scotch +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +language “awmous,” which did not sound agreeably in the +ears of Geordie Willison.</p> + +<p>The very reverse of George was his sister—a black-eyed +beauty, of great intelligence, who earned a little money, to +support the family, by means of her needle. She was a +great comfort to her mother, seldom going out, and felt +much annoyed by the strange character of her brother, +whom she often endeavoured to improve, with a view to +his following some trade. He was twenty years of age, +and if he did not “tak’ himself up” now, she said, “he +would be a vagrant a’ his days.” Geordie, on the other +hand, quietly heard his sister, but he never saw—at least, +he pretended not to see, which was the same thing—the +force of her argument. The weak half of his constitution was +always presented to any attack of logic; and the adroitness +with which he met his opponent by this soft buckler—which, +like a feather-bed presented to a canon bullet, swallowed +the force and the noise at the same time—was worthy +of Aristotle, or Thomas Scotus, or any other logical warrior. +Take an example:—</p> + +<p>“Whar hae ye been the day, Geordie?” said his mother +to him one day.</p> + +<p>“I hae been convoying Sir Marmaduke Maitland a +wee bit on his way to France,” said Geordie. “He asked +me to bear him company and carry his luggage to Leith, +and I couldna refuse sic a favour to the braw knight.”</p> + +<p>“An’ what got ye frae him?” said his mother; “for I +hae naething i’ the house for supper.”</p> + +<p>“Twa or three placks,” said Geordie, throwing down +some coppers on the table.</p> + +<p>“This is the 21st day o’ April—your birthday, Geordie,” +said the mother; “an’ as it has aye been our practice to hae +something by common on that occasion, I’ll gang down to +Widow Johnston’s an’ get a pint o’ the best, to drink yer +health wi’.” And Widow Willison did as she said.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +“Is Lady Maitland no awa wi’ Sir Marmaduke, Geordie?” +resumed his mother, when they were taking their meagre +supper.</p> + +<p>“Na! na!” said Geordie; “they dinna like ane anither +sae weel; an’ I dinna wonder at Sir Marmaduke no likin’ +her, for I dinna like her mysel.”</p> + +<p>“For what reason, Geordie?” asked his mother.</p> + +<p>“Because she doesna like me,” answered the casuist.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that on the 19th day of February, after +the conversation here detailed, that George Willison was +wandering over the grounds of Warriston, on the north side +of Edinburgh. He had been with a letter to the Laird of +Warriston, and, in coming back, as was not uncommon +with him, was musing, in a half dreaming, listless kind of +state, as he sauntered through the planted grounds in the +neighbourhood. His attention was in an instant arrested +by the sounds of voices, and he stood, or rather sat down, +behind a hedge and listened. The speakers were very near +to him; for it was so very dark that they could not observe +him.</p> + +<p>“I will stand at a little distance, Louise,” said a voice, +“and thou canst do the thing thyself. I could despatch +thine, but I cannot do that good work to myself; for the +mother rises in me, and unnerves me quite. Besides, thou +didst promise to do me this service for the ten gold pieces +I gave thee, and the many more I will yet give thee.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Oui! oui!</em> my lady; but de infant is so <em>fort</em>, so trong, +dat it will be difficult for me to trottle her. Death, <em>la +mort</em>, does not come ever when required; but I vill do my +endeavour to trangle de leetle jade, vit as much activity +as I can. Ha! ha! de leetle baggage tinks she is already +<em>perdir</em>—she tombles so—be quiet, you <em>petite</em> leetle deevil. +It vill be de best vay, I tink, to do it on de ground. Hark! +is dere not some person near?—my heart goes <em>en palpitant</em>.”</p> + +<p>“It is nobody, thou fool,” answered the lady; “it is only +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +a rustling produced by a breath of wind among the +trees.”</p> + +<p>“Very vell, very vell, my Lady Maitland; dat is right. +Now for de vork.”</p> + +<p>“Stop until I am at a little distance; and, when thou +hearest me cry ‘Now,’ finish the thing cleverly.”</p> + +<p>The rustling of the lady’s gown betokened that she had +done as she said. The rustling ceased; and the word +“Now,” came from the mouth of the mother.</p> + +<p>All was silent for a minute; a quick breath, indicating +the application of a strong effort, was now heard, mixed +with the sound of a convulsed suspiration, something like +that of a child labouring under hooping-cough, though +weaker. The rustling of clothes indicated a struggle of +some violence; and several ejaculations escaped at intervals:—“<em>Mon +dieu!</em> dis is de <em>triste</em> vork; how trong de leetle +she velp is!—now, now—not yet—how trange!—<em>diable!</em> +she still breats!”</p> + +<p>“Hast thou finished, Louise?” asked the lady, impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Not yet, my lady,” said Louise; “give me your hair +necklace; de leetle she velp vont die vitout tronger force +dan my veak hands can apply.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot go to thee,” said the lady; “thou must come +to me. Lay the babe on the ground, and come for the +necklace.”</p> + +<p>Louise did as she was desired.</p> + +<p>The sounds of a struggle again commenced, mixed with +Louise’s ejaculations:—“Now, now—dis vill do for you—<em>une +fois</em>—vonce, twice, trice round—dat vill do—quite sufficient +to kill de giant, or Sir Marmaduke himself. Now, +my lady, I tink de ting is pretty vell done; I vill trow her +into de hedge—dere—now, let us go.”</p> + +<p>The two ladies went away, and Geordie rushed forward +to the place where they had thrown the child. It was still +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +convulsed. He loosened the necklace, which had been left +by mistake, and blew strongly into the child’s mouth. He +heard it sigh, and in a little time breathe; and, carrying it +with the greatest care, he took it home with him to his +mother’s house.</p> + +<p>“Whar hae ye been, man, and what is this ye hae in +your airms?” said Widow Willison to Geordie, when he +went in.</p> + +<p>“It’s a wee bit birdie I fand in a nest amang the hedges +o’ Warriston,” said Geordie. “Its mither didna seem to +care aboot it, and I hae brought it hame wi’ me. Gie’t a +pickle crowdie, puir thing.”</p> + +<p>Astonished, and partly displeased, Widow Willison took +the child out of her son’s arms, and seeing its face swoln +and blue, and marks of strangulation on its neck, her maternal +sympathies arose, and she applied all the articles of a +mother’s pharmacopœia with a view to restore it.</p> + +<p>“But whar got ye the bairn, man?” she again inquired. +“Gie us nane o’ yer nonsense about birds and hedges. +Tell us the story sae as plain folk can understand it.”</p> + +<p>“I hae already tauld ye,” said Geordie, dryly and slowly; +“and it’s no my intention at present to tell ye ony mair aboot +it. Ye didna ask whar <em>I</em> came frae when ye got me first.”</p> + +<p>“An’ wha’s to bring up the bairn?” asked the mother, +who knew it was in vain to put the same question twice +to Geordie.</p> + +<p>“Ye didna ask that question at my faither when <em>I</em> cam +hame,” replied the stoic, with one of his peculiar looks; +“but, if ye had, maybe ye wadna hae got sae kind an +answer as I’ll gie ye: Geordie Willison will pay for bringing +up the bairn; and I’ll no answer ony mair o’ yer +questions.”</p> + +<p>Strictly did Geordie keep his word with his mother. He +would tell neither her nor his sister anything about the +child. They knew his temper and disposition, and gradually +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +resigned an importunity which had the effect of +making him more obstinate. At night, when the child’s +clothes were taken off, with a view to putting it to bed, +Geordie got hold of them and carried them off, unknown to +his mother. He locked them up in his chest, and, in the +morning, when his mother asked him if he had seen them, +he said he knew nothing about them. Annoyed by this +conduct on the part of her son, his mother threatened to +throw the child upon the parish as a foundling; and yet, +when she reflected on the extreme sagacity which was +mixed up with her son’s peculiarities, and read in his looks, +which she well understood, a more than ordinary confidence +of power to do what he had said, as to bringing up +the child, she hesitated in her purpose, and at last resolved +to go in with the humour and inclinations of her son, and +do the duty of a mother to the babe.</p> + +<p>We now change the scene.</p> + +<p>“It’s a braw day this, my Leddy Maitland,” said Geordie, +bowing to the very ground, and holding in his hand a clean +sheet of paper, which he had folded up like a letter, as a +passport to her ladyship’s presence.</p> + +<p>Lady Maitland, who was sitting at her work-table, +stared at the person thus saluting her, and seeing it was +Geordie Willison, who had offended her at the time of his +carrying down Sir Marmaduke’s luggage, by asking, jocularly, +if “ony o’ the bairns were gaun wi’ their father,” she +asked him sternly what he wanted, and, thinking he had +the letter in his hand to deliver to her, snatched it in a +petted manner and opened it. On finding it a clean sheet +of paper, with her address on the back of it, she got into a +great rage, and ran to the bell to call up a lackey to kick +Geordie down stairs.</p> + +<p>“Canny, my braw leddy—canny,” said Geordie, seizing +her hand; “ye are hasty—maybe no quite recovered yet—the +wet dews o’ Warriston are no for the tender health +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +o’ the bonny Leddy Maitland; for even Geordie Willison, +wha can ban a’ bield i’ the cauldest nicht o’ winter, felt them +chill and gruesome as he passed through them yestreen.”</p> + +<p>On hearing this speech, Lady Maitland changed, in an +instant, from a state of violent passion to the rigidity and +appearance of a marble statue.</p> + +<p>Eyeing her with one of his peculiar looks, as much as to +say, “I know all,” Geordie proceeded.</p> + +<p>“I dinna want to put your leddyship to ony trouble by +this veesit; but, being in want o’ some siller in thir hard +times, I thocht I would tak the liberty o’ ca’in upon yer +leddyship, as weel for the sake o’ being better acquainted +wi’ a leddy o’ yer station and presence, as for the sake o’ +gettin’ the little I require on my first introduction to high +life.”</p> + +<p>“How much money dost thou require?” asked the lady, +with a tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>“Twunty pund, my leddy, twenty pund at the present +time,” answered Geordie, with the same simple look; “ye +ken the folk haud me for a natural, and ower fu’ a cup is no +easy carried, even by the wise. Sae, I wadna like to trust +mysel’ wi’ mair than twenty pund at a time.”</p> + +<p>Without saying a word, Lady Maitland went, with +trembling steps, and a hurried and confused manner, to +her bureau: she took out her keys—tried one, then +another, and, with some difficulty, at last got it opened. +She counted out twenty pounds, and handed it over to +Geordie, who counted it again with all the precision of a +modern banker.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, my leddy,” said Geordie; “an’ whan I need +mair, I’ll just tak the liberty o’ makin yer leddyship my +banker. Guid day, my leddy.” And, with a low bow, +reaching nearly to the ground, he departed.</p> + +<p>The result of this interview satisfied Geordie that what +he had suspected was true. Sir Marmaduke had not yet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +returned, and his lady, having been unfaithful to him, and +given birth to a child, had resolved upon putting it out of +the way, in the manner already detailed. He had no doubt +that the lady thought the child was dead; and he did not +wish, in the meantime, to disturb that notion; for, although +he knew that the circumstance of the child being alive +would give him greater power over her, in the event of +her becoming refractory, he was apprehensive that she +would not have allowed the child to remain in his keeping; +and might, in all likelihood, resort to some desperate +scheme to destroy it.</p> + +<p>On returning home, Geordie drew his seat to the fire, +and sat silent. His mother, who was sitting opposite to +him, asked him if he had earned any money that day, +wherewith he could buy some clothes for the child he had +undertaken to bring up. With becoming gravity, and +without appearing to feel that any remarkable change had +taken place upon his finances, Geordie slowly put his hand +into his pocket, drew out the twenty pounds, and gave his +mother one for interim expenditure. As he returned the +money into his pocket, he said, with an air of the most supreme +nonchalance, “If ye want ony mair, ye can let me ken.”</p> + +<p>The mother and daughter looked at each other with surprise +and astonishment, mixed with some pleasure, and, +perhaps, some apprehension. Neither of them put any +question as to where the money had been got; for Geordie’s +look had already informed them that any such question +would not be answered.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, no great change seemed to have been produced +in Geordie Willison’s manner of living, in consequence +of his having become comparatively rich. He +lounged about the streets, joking with his acquaintances—went +his messages—sometimes appeared with a crowd of +boys after him—dressed in the same style—and, altogether, +was just the same kind of person he used to be.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +Time passed, and precisely on the same day next year he +went to Lady Maitland’s. In the passage, he was met by +the housekeeper, Louise Grecourt, who asked him what he +wanted. He looked at her intently, and recognised in this +person’s voice the same tones which had arrested his ears +so forcibly on the night of the attempted murder of the +child. To make himself more certain of this, Geordie led +her into conversation.</p> + +<p>“I want my Leddy Maitland,” answered Geordie—“are +ye her leddyship?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered the housekeeper, with a kick of her +head, which Geordie took as a sign that his bait had been +swallowed; “I am not Lady Maitland—I am in de charge +of her ladyship’s house. Vat you vant vit her ladyship? +Can Louise Grecourt not satisfy a fellow like you?”</p> + +<p>“No exactly at present,” answered Geordie; “tell her +leddyship that Geordie Willison wants to speak to her.”</p> + +<p>Louise started when he mentioned his name, certifying +Geordie that she was in the secret of his knowledge. Her +manner changed. She became all condescension; and, +leading him up stairs, opened a door, and showed him into +a room where Lady Maitland was sitting.</p> + +<p>“I houp yer leddyship,” began Geordie, with a low +bow, “has been quite weel sin’ I had the honour o’ yer +acquaintanceship, whilk is now a year, come twa o’clock o’ +this day. Ye micht maybe be thinking we were gaun to +fa’ out o’ acquaintanceship; but I’m no ane o’ yer conceited +creatures wha despise auld freends, and rin after new anes, +merely because they may think them brawer—sae ye may +keep yer mind easy on that score; and I wad farther tak +the liberty to assure yer leddyship that, if ye hae ony siller +by ye at present, I winna hesitate to gie ye a proof o’ the +continuance o’ my freendship, by offerin’ to tak frae ye as +meikle as I may need.”</p> + +<p>“How much is that?” asked Lady Maitland.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +“Twunty pund, my leddy, twunty pund,” answered +Geordie.</p> + +<p>The money was handed to him by the lady, without saying +a word; and, having again made a low bow, he departed.</p> + +<p>Next year, Geordie Willison went and paid a visit to +Lady Maitland, got from her the same sum of money, and +nothing passed to indicate what it was paid for. The lady +clearly remained under the impression that the child was +not in existence.</p> + +<p>It happened that, some time after the last payment, +Geordie was on the pier of Leith, with a view to fall in with +some chance message or carriage to Edinburgh. A vessel +had newly arrived from the Continent, and one of the +passengers was Sir Marmaduke Maitland. Geordie was +employed to assist in getting his luggage removed to +Edinburgh. On arriving at the house, Lady Maitland, +with Louise behind her, was standing on the landing-place +to receive her husband. They saw Geordie walking alongside +of him, and talking to him in the familiar manner +which his alleged silliness in many cases entitled him to +do; but whatever they may have felt or expressed, by +looks or otherwise, Geordie seemed not to be any way out +of his ordinary manner, and they soon observed, from the +conduct of Sir Marmaduke, that Geordie had said nothing +to him. Geordie bustled about, assisting to take out the +luggage, while Sir Marmaduke was standing in the lobby +with his lady alongside of him.</p> + +<p>“Is there any news stirring in these parts, Geordie, +worth telling to one who has been from his own country so +long as I have been.”</p> + +<p>“Naething worth mentioning, Sir Marmaduke,” answered +Geordie; “a’thing quiet, decent, and orderly i’ the toun +and i’ the country—no excepting your ain house here, +whar I hae missed mony a gude luck-penny sin’ your +honour departed.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +“Has Lady Maitland not been in the habit of employing +you, then, Geordie?” asked Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>“No exactly, Sir Marmaduke,” answered Geordie; “the +last time I ca’ed on her leddyship, she asked me what I +wanted. I didna think it quite ceevil, and I haena gane +back; but I canna deny that she paid me handsomely for +the last thing I carried for her. She’s a fine leddy, Sir +Marmaduke, and meikle credit to ye.”</p> + +<p>At any subsequent period, when Geordie’s yearly pension +was due, he generally contrived to call for Lady Maitland +when Sir Marmaduke was out of the way. He took always +the same amount of money. The only departure he made +from this custom was in the year of his sister’s marriage, +when he asked and got a sum of forty pounds, twenty of +which he gave to her. Her husband, George Dempster, +had at one time been a butler in Lady Maitland’s family; +but her ladyship did not know either that he was acquainted +with George Willison, or that he was now married to his +sister. We may explain that George Dempster was in the +family at the time when Geordie brought home the child; +and, in some of his conversations with his wife, he did not +hesitate to say that he suspected that Lady Maitland bore +a child to a French lackey, who was then about the house; +but the child never made its appearance, and strong grounds +existed for believing that it was made away with. Geordie +himself sometimes heard these stories; but he affected to +be altogether indifferent to them, putting a silly question +to Dempster, as if he had just awakened from sleep, and +had forgot the thread of the discourse, and, when he got +his answer, pretending to fall asleep again.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the young foundling, who had been +christened Jessie Warriston, by Geordie’s desire, grew up +to womanhood. She became, in every respect, the picture +of her mother—tall and noble in her appearance. Her +hair was jet black, and her eye partook of the same colour, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +with a lustre that dazzled the beholder. Her manners +were cheerful and kind; and she was grateful for the most +ordinary attentions paid to her by Widow Willison, or her +daughter—the latter of whom often took her out with her +to the house of Ludovic Brodie, commonly called Birkiehaugh, +a nephew of Sir Marmaduke Maitland, with whom +George Dempster was serving as butler, in his temporary +house, about a mile south from Edinburgh.</p> + +<p>This young laird had seen Jessie Warriston, and been +struck with her noble appearance. He asked Dempster +who she was, and was told that she was a young person +who lived with one of his wife’s friends. Brodie, whose +character was that of a most unprincipled rake, often endeavoured +to make up to Jessie, as she went backwards and +forwards between his house and Widow Willison’s. In all +endeavours he had been unsuccessful; for Jessie—independently +of being aware, from the admonitions of the pious +Widow Willison, that an acquaintanceship with a person +above her degree was improper and dangerous—had a +lover of her own, a young man of the name of William +Forbes, a clerk to Mr. Carstairs, an advocate, at that time +in great practice at the Scotch bar. Forbes generally accompanied +Jessie when she went out at night, after she told +him that Brodie had insulted her; and she discontinued +her visits to George Dempster.</p> + +<p>Foiled by the precautions which Jessie took to avoid +him, Brodie only became more determined to get his object +gratified. He meditated various schemes for this purpose. +He turned off Dempster, who might have been a spy upon +his conduct; and it was remarked, by the people living +near to Widow Willison’s, that a woman, rolled up in a +cloak, had been seen watching about the door. Geordie, +though apparently not listening to any of these transactions, +was all alive to the interests of his foundling. He kept a +constant eye upon the neighbourhood, and did not fail to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +observe, that a woman, of the description stated, came +always, at a certain hour, near his mother’s door, about the +time that Jessie generally went out.</p> + +<p>Now, Geordie was determined to know, by some means, +who this woman was; and, as the day was drawing in, he +thought he might disguise himself in such a way as to get +into conversation with her.</p> + +<p>Having equipped himself in the garb of a cadie, of more +respectable appearance than he himself exhibited, and put +a black patch over his eye, and a broad slouched hat over +his head, Geordie took his station to watch the woman in +the cloak.</p> + +<p>“Wha may ye be waitin’ for?” said Geordie, in a feigned +voice, to the woman, whom he at last found.</p> + +<p>“Are you von of de cadies?” asked the woman.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Geordie.</p> + +<p>“Do you live in de neighbourhood?” asked again the +woman.</p> + +<p>“I wadna live in ony ither place war ye to pay me for’t,” +answered Geordie.</p> + +<p>“Very good—dat is a very good answer,” said the woman; +“dere is a little money for you.”</p> + +<p>“I dinna tak siller for tellin’ folk whar I live,” said +Geordie; “but, if there’s onything else I can, in my capacity +o’ cadie, do for ye, maybe I may then condescend to +tak yer siller.”</p> + +<p>“<em>Mon Dieu!</em> vat a trange fellow!” ejaculated the woman. +“Vell, can you tell me if a young woman, carrying the name +of Jessie Varriston, lives up dat stair?” pointing with her +hand.</p> + +<p>“I ken the lassie as weel as I ken mysel,” answered +Geordie; “she lives just whar ye hae said.”</p> + +<p>“Very goot—very goot—dat is just vat I vant—<em>un sage +homme</em> dis—excellent goot chap. Now, tell me if de girl +lives vit an imbecile that is von idiot, called George Villison, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +and how long she has lived vit him, vere she comes +from, and vat is her history.”</p> + +<p>“Ye hae asked four questions a’ in ae breath,” said Geordie, +who wanted a prologue, to give him time to consider how +much he could say, so as to serve the two purposes of safety +and drawing out the woman at the same time. “It’s no +quite fair, to an ignorant man like me, to put sae mony +questions at a time; but it’s my wish to serve ye, an’ I’ll +do my best to answer them. Jessie Warriston lives wi’ +the idiot cratur Geordie Willison’s mither, and she has +lived wi’ her for seventeen years, that is, since she was a +bit bairn. I’m thinking she’ll be a granddochter o’ Widow +Willison’s—dinna ye think sae yersel’?”</p> + +<p>“De brute!” muttered the woman to herself—“de brute +is begun, like all de rest of his countrymen, to put de interrogation +ven he should give de respond. You do not +know den de girl’s history, do you not?”</p> + +<p>“No, but maybe I may be able to get it for ye,” answered +Geordie, unwilling to be dismissed <em>simpliciter</em>.</p> + +<p>“Very vell, anoter time—I vish you, in de meantime, +to carry dis letter to Ludovic Brodie, Esq. of Birkiehaugh. +Do you know vere he lives?”</p> + +<p>“I will carry it wi’ the greatest o’ pleasure, madam,” +answered Geordie.</p> + +<p>The woman handed him the letter, with some more +money, and departed.</p> + +<p>Geordie got the letter speedily read to him by a person +in his confidence. It was in these terms:—</p> + +<p>“Mon cher Ludovic,—Jessie Varriston lives vit de idiot, +Geordie Villison, in Leit Vynd. De bearer of dis knows +her very vell, and vill assist you in de abduction. My +Lady Maitland and I both tink we know her too; bot we +do not vish at present to let any von know dis, for certain +reasons, vich we cannot explain to you. Ven you arrange +vit de bearer to carry her off, let me know, and I vill do +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +every ting in my power to assist you, as my lady has a +grand vish for de abduction of de vench vithout procrastination. +My lady does not know of my having given you +intelligence of her being up to de affair.—Yours till death.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;" class="smcap">“Louise Grecourt</span>.”</p> + +<p>From this letter, Geordie saw plainly that Lady Maitland +and Louise had, at last, got some information regarding +Jessie, which had led them to suspect that she was the +child they had supposed to be dead. It was clear, however, +that Brodie knew nothing of their suspicions, and the two +parties were, undoubtedly, after the same game, with different +objects and for different reasons. Having folded the +letter and sealed it, so as to avoid suspicion, Geordie went +out and delivered it into the hands of Birkiehaugh.</p> + +<p>Brodie, having read the letter, examined Geordie from +head to heel—“Canst thou be trusted, man, in an affair +requiring secrecy and ability to execute it?” asked he.</p> + +<p>“Do you see ony thing aboot me to produce ony doubt +o’ my ability or my secrecy?” answered Geordie. “Nae +man will coup wi’ Peter Finlayson in ony expedition whar +death, danger, or exposure are to be avoided, or whar +ability to plan, an’ quickness to execute, and cunnin’ to +conceal, are things o’ consideration or importance.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Peter, I believe thou art the man. I wish to +carry off the girl, Jessie Warriston, to-morrow night—canst +thou assist me in that enterprise?”</p> + +<p>“It’s just in the like o’ thae bits o’ ploys that the genius +o’ Peter Finlayson lies,” answered Geordie. “I ken the +lassie maist intimately, and can bring her to ony appointed +spot at ony hour ye please to name.”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow night, then,” said Brodie, “at eight o’clock, +at the resting-stone at the top of the Leith Lone; knowest +thou the place?”</p> + +<p>“I do,” answered Geordie; “and shall attend; but ye +ken, I suppose, the difference that lies atween the ordinary +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +jobs o’ us cadies, and the like o’ thae michty emprises, whar +life and limb, and honour and reputation, are concerned. +In the first case, the pay comes after the wark—in the +ither, the wark comes after the pay; an’ it’s richt natural, +whan ye think o’t; because I hae often seen the city guard +kick the wark and the warkmen to the deevil in an instant, +and the puir cadie gets only broken banes for his pains.”</p> + +<p>“There, then,” said Brodie, “there is half of thy fee; +the other shall be given when thou bringest the girl.”</p> + +<p>“Vera weel,” said Geordie, counting the gold pieces; +“and thank ye. I wunna fail in my duty, I warrant ye.”</p> + +<p>Next night, at the time and place appointed, Geordie +attended with his charge. He found Brodie in waiting +with a carriage, in which was seated Louise. Jessie was +told to enter, and complied. Brodie jumped in, and Geordie +held out his hand for the other half of the fee, which he +received. He now slipped a piece of twine round the +handle of the carriage, so as to prevent it from being +opened; and, in a moment vaulted up beside the coachman, +whose hat, as if by mere accident, he knocked off.</p> + +<p>“Gie me up my bannet, ye whelp,” said the coachman, +angrily.</p> + +<p>“Cadies are no cadies to coachmen,” answered Geordie, +dryly; “your brains maun be far spent, man, when they +canna keep a house ower their head.”</p> + +<p>The coachman jumped down for his hat, and Geordie, +applying the whip to the horses, was off in an instant. The +coachman cried, “Stop the coach!” Brodie, thinking it +was a chase, cried to drive like the devil. Geordie obeyed +to the letter, and dashed on like lightning.</p> + +<p>The coach stopped, and was instantly surrounded by a +number of people, who opened the door, and pulling the +three inmates out, led them into a large building, the door +of which was double-bolted, and made a tremendous noise +as it revolved on its hinges. The party were taken up +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +stairs, and introduced (Geordie leading the way with his +hat in his hand) into a large room, where several people +were present, apparently waiting for them.</p> + +<p>“I beg leave to introduce,” said Geordie, bowing low, +“to yer lordship, the sheriff—wha has dune us the honour +to receive us at this time in sae safe a place as the jail, +whar we are perfectly free frae a’ interruption—his honour, +Ludovic Brodie, Esq. o’ Birkiehaugh, and her highness, +Louise Grecourt, a French leddy o’ repute. They are +anxious to receive yer opinion on a point o’ law, in whilk +they are personally concerned, a favour, I doutna, yer +honour will condescend to grant.”</p> + +<p>The sheriff immediately set about taking a precognition, +for which he had been, by Geordie, previously prepared. +Brodie was committed on a charge of abduction; but Louise, +on the intercession of Geordie and his ward, was allowed to +get off. Some time afterwards, Brodie was tried, and sentenced +to six months’ imprisonment.</p> + +<p>Geordie had now occasion to call upon Lady Maitland +for his yearly allowance. Louise having been liberated +without trial, it had not yet reached the ears of her or +Lady Maitland that Peter Finlayson was, in fact, Geordie +Willison. Brodie had made no communication of that +fact as yet, and neither Louise nor Lady Maitland could +have any idea that Geordie knew of the hand they had in +the attempted abduction, or of their knowledge or suspicion +that Jessie Warriston was the intended victim of their +cruelty.</p> + +<p>“My leddy,” began Geordie, with his accustomed bow, +but with more than his usual significancy of look, “this is +the first time for these seventeen years that I hae been +awantin’ in my attention and duty as yer leddyship’s +freend; for I am ae day ahint the usual time o’ my veesit +to yer leddyship, for whilk mark o’ disrespect I beg leave +to solicit yer leddyship’s pardon, upon the condition that I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +offer, that I shall promise, as I here most solemnly do, that +I shall not be again wantin’ in my duty to yer leddyship. +Can I say I hae yer leddyship’s pardon?”</p> + +<p>Crucified by Geordie’s cruel humour, but compelled to +be silent, Lady Maitland signified her favour.</p> + +<p>“Yer leddyship’s condescension is a great relief to me,” +resumed Geordie. “They say Sir Marmaduke’s nevey, +Brodie o’ Birkiehaugh, is in jail for attempting to rin awa’ +wi’ a young lassie. What he was to do wi’ her, God only +kens, but there can be nae doubt that he would get sma’ +favour and grace frae yer leddyship to ony attempt on the +puir cratur’s life. Na, na—a nobility sae michtie as yer +leddyship’s, an’ a saftness o’ heart whilk far excels that o’ +the bleatin’ ewe for the puir lambie that lies deein’ by its +side, couldna patroneeze onything like the takin’ awa o’ +God’s breath frae the nostrils o’ innocence.”</p> + +<p>Geordie, whose cruelty was refined, paused, and fixed his +eyes on the lady, who appeared to be in agony. She rose +quickly, and went, as usual, to her bureau to give him money.</p> + +<p>“Stop,” said Geordie; “I haena asked ye for’t yet. I +dinna like awmous. It’s only when I want to favour yer +leddyship that I tak siller fra ye, and naething I hae +yet said could warrant yer leddyship in supposing that +I was to confer sic a favour on ye, at least at the particular +time when ye rose to open yer kist; and I dinna +need to say, that favours quickly conferred are sune repented +o’. Weel, the bit lassie wham Birkiehaugh was +after, is a young creature, ca’ed Jessie Warriston, wha lives +wi’ my mither. Few folk on earth ken meikle about her; +but my mither swears that her mither maun hae been +hanged, for she has a ring round her bonny white craig, +like that on the neck o’ the turtle doo. I laugh, an’ +say to the bonny bairn, that it will stan’ in place o’ a coral +or cornelian necklace to her.—Ha! ha! I see your leddyship’s +inclined to laugh too—eh?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +And Geordie again eyed the lady, who was as far from +laughing as the criminal at the stake.</p> + +<p>“Weel,” resumed the crucifier, “Birkiehaugh didna +succeed—thanks to Peter Finlayson, honest fallow—and +the lassie is safe again; but I hae made a vow, and I +hope sae gude a ane will be regularly recorded whar it +should be, that the first person wha tries to lay sae meikle +as a finger on that bonny bairn’s head, or blaw a single +breath o’ suspicion against her reputation, will meet wi’ +the just indignation o’ Geordie Willison. An’ noo, my +leddy, I will favour ye by accepting, at yer hands, twenty +pund.”</p> + +<p>Geordie received, and counted the money, as usual, and, +with a bow, retired.</p> + +<p>The six months of Birkiehaugh’s confinement expired, +and, about the same time, Sir Marmaduke Maitland died. +Having had no children by his wife, the title and fine +property of Castle Gower fell to Brodie, who was his +brother’s son—Brodie being the name of the family who +had succeeded to the title. No time was lost by Brodie’s +man of business to take out a brief from Chancery, for +getting him served heir male of taillie to the estate and +honours. The brief was published, and no doubt anywhere +prevailed of the verdict which would be pronounced +under it.</p> + +<p>About this time it was observed that Geordie Willison +had long interviews with Advocate Carstairs; but neither +his mother, nor his sister, nor, indeed, any person, could +get him to say a word on the subject. His manner, in +regard to the story of Jessie, had been all along quite uniform, +and many years had passed since his mother had +given up in despair all attempts to get him to divulge it. +He was, at present, apparently very absent, as if something +of great importance occupied his mind.</p> + +<p>One day, on leaving the advocate, he went direct for the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +house of Lady Maitland. He was admitted as usual. He +said he wished to see her ladyship and Louise together.</p> + +<p>“I hae heard,” began Geordie, “that my worthy freend, +Sir Marmaduke, is dead. He was a gude man, and may +the Lord deal mercifully wi’ him! Ludovic Brodie, they +say, is the heir, an’ I dinna say he has nae richt to that +title—though, maybe, it may cost some wigs a pickle flour +to mak that oot. Noo, ye see, my Leddy Maitland, I hae +dune ye some favours, and I’m just to take the liberty to +ask ane in return. You an’ yer freend, Louise, maun admit, +in open court, that yer leddyship bore, upon the 19th day +of February o’ the year 16—, a dochter, and that that +dochter is Jessie Warriston.”</p> + +<p>Geordie waited for an answer, fixing his eyes on Lady +Maitland.</p> + +<p>Louise immediately began to make indications of a spirit +of opposition; and Lady Maitland herself, gathering up any +traces of dignity, which the presence of Geordie generally +dispersed, replied—</p> + +<p>“Thou hast no proof, sir, of the extraordinary charge, +thou hast now, for the first time, brought against me; and +I cannot convict myself of a crime.”</p> + +<p>Louise blustered and supported her lady.</p> + +<p>“Vat, in the name of God, is de meaning of dis fellow’s +demand? <em>Parbleu!</em> He is mad—<em>de fou</em>—bad—vicked—mechant. +Vere I your ladyship, I would trust him out, and +give him de grand kick, and tomble him down de marche +de stairs. Vy, sir, could you have de grand impudence +to tell my lady she be de bad woman.”</p> + +<p>Geordie heard all this with calmness and silence.</p> + +<p>“It’s o’ sma importance to me,” he resumed, “whether +yer leddyship comply wi’ my request or no; for, indeed, +though politeness made me ca’ it a favour conferred upon +me, the favour is a’ the ither way. Let yer leddyship be +silent, an’ I’ll prove that yer leddyship bore the bairn; but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +ye maun ken that Geordie Willison has nae power ower +the law—when the seals are broken, the judgment will +come; and I canna prove the birth o’ the bairn without, +at the same time, and by the same prufe, proving that ye +attempted to strangle it, and left it for dead in the hedges +o’ Warriston. Here is yer leddyship’s necklace, whilk +I took fra the craig o’ the struggling cratur, and here are +the claes it had on, marked wi’ draps o’ blude that cam +frae its little mouth. I show thae things no as proofs on +whilk I mean a’thegither to rest, but only to testify to ye +what ye sae weel ken, that what I say is true. Speak, +noo, my leddies—your lives are i’ the hands o’ the idiot +cratur Geordie Willison. If ye gang to the court, ye are +saved—if ye winna, ye are lost. Will ye gang, or will ye +hang?”</p> + +<p>The women were both terrified by the statement of +Geordie. Reluctant to make any such admission, they +struggled with the various emotions of indignation, pride, +and fear, which took, by turns, possession of their bosoms. +Lady Maitland fainted, and Louise was totally unable to +render her assistance; for she lay in a hysterical state of +excitement on the floor. Geordie locked the door, and +kept his eyes fixed on the females. He yielded them no +aid; but stood like a destroying angel, witnessing the +effects of his desolation. Lady Maitland at last opened +her eyes, and having collected her senses, resolved to comply +with Geordie’s request. She said to him, that, provided +nothing was asked beyond the questions, whether she bore +the child on the day mentioned, and whether Jessie Maitland, +whom she had secretly seen, was that child—she +would answer them in the affirmative. This satisfied +Geordie, and he departed.</p> + +<p>On the day of the service of Ludovic Brodie, a brief was +taken out in name of Jessie Warriston or Maitland, as heir +female of taillie to the estate and title of Maitland of Castle +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +Gower. Brodie and his agents had no notice of the brief +until they came into court.</p> + +<p>The briefs being read, Brodie’s propinquity was proved, +and no person had any idea that the existence of a nearer +heir could be established. But the door of the court +opened, and Lady Maitland and Louise Grecourt stood +before the inquest. They swore to the birth of the child +on the day mentioned, and that Jessie Maitland, who was +presented to them in court by Geordie Willison himself, +was that child.</p> + +<p>An objection was taken by Brodie’s agents, that the child +was illegitimate, because it was born ten months, minus two +days, after Sir Marmaduke went to the continent; but the +judge overruled the objection, stating that it was the law +of Scotland, that every child born within ten months of the +husband’s departure, is a legal child.</p> + +<p>Jessie Warriston was, therefore, served heir, according +to the terms of her brief. She went in her own carriage, in +which sat Geordie Willison, to take possession of her estates +and titles. She was now Lady Jessie Maitland of Castle +Gower, and was soon afterwards united to William Forbes, +her old lover.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SNOW STORM OF 1825.</h2> + + +<p>Our readers will recollect the dreadful snow storm that +occurred in the year 1825. Indeed, it is impossible that +any one, who was above the years of childhood at the time, +can have forgot it, or can ever forget it. It was the most +tremendous with which this country has been visited for a +century. For nearly six weeks, and in some places for a +much longer period, every road, excepting those in the +immediate vicinity of large towns, was blocked up, and +rendered impassable, by either horse or foot; and one consequence +was, that scores of travellers, of all descriptions, +were suddenly arrested in their several places of temporary +sojournment on the road, and held in durance during the +whole period of the storm, without the possibility of communicating +with their friends, or, in the case of mercantile +travellers, with their employers.</p> + +<p>It was a weary time, on the whole, to those who were +thus laid under embargo; but not without its pleasures +either; for each house thus situated, having perhaps a +dozen strangers in it, from and going to all parts of the +kingdom, became a distinct and independent little community, +from which its local exclusion from the busy world +had shut out, also, for the time at any rate, much of its +cares and troubles—a philosophic spirit soon prevailing, +after the first day or two’s confinement, to make the most +of what could not be helped.</p> + +<p>The writer of this sheet happened to be one of nine who +were shut up in the way alluded to, in an inn in the south +of Scotland; and although, as already said, it was rather a +weary thing on the whole, yet was it not without its enjoyments. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +Our <em>ennui</em> was often delightfully relieved by the +diversity of character as developed in our little community; +for we had, if we may so speak, the salt, the pepper, and +the vinegar of human dispositions, sprinkled throughout +the party, which not only took from the cold insipidity of +our confinement, but gave to it a rich and pleasant relish. +Our host’s cellar and larder happened to be well stored, +while the house was, in all other respects, an excellent one; +so, what with the produce of the former, and the roaring +fires kept up by Jamie, the waiter, we had really nothing +to complain of on the score of creature comforts—and it is +amazing how far the possession of these will go to reconcile +men to otherwise very unpleasant situations. In this case, +they were enhanced by the dreary prospect from without—the +howling storm, the drifting snow, and the wide, dismal, +monotonous waste of dazzling white that lay all around us.</p> + +<p>The consciousness of the comforts we enjoyed, in short, +put us all in good humour with one another; while a fellowship +in misfortune, and a community of feeling, as well +as of persons, introduced a degree of friendliness and intimacy, +to which few other circumstances, perhaps, would +have given rise. We had our small round of standard +jokes, peculiar to our situation, which few else could have +understood, and fewer still have appreciated, though they +did understand them. We had, too, a small round of +harmless tricks, which we regularly played off every day on +some one or other of the corps. But, notwithstanding all this—the +larder, the cellar, the fire, the jokes, and the tricks—time +did occasionally hang rather heavily upon our hands, +especially in the evenings. To lessen this weight, we latterly +fell upon the contrivance of telling stories, one or two +of us each night, by turns. The idea is a borrowed one, +as the reader will at once perceive, but we humbly think +not a pin the worse on that account. There was no limitation, +of course, as to the subject. Each was allowed to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +tell what story he liked; but it was the general understanding +that these stories should be personal, if possible—that +is, that each should relate the most remarkable circumstances +in his own life. Those who had nothing of the +kind to communicate, were, of course, allowed to get off +with anything else they chose to substitute. The first to +whose lot it fell to entertain us in this way, was a fat, +good-humoured, good-natured, little, hunch-backed gentleman, +with a short leg, and a bright yellow waistcoat. He +was a mercantile traveller, and, if I recollect right, a native +of Newcastle.</p> + +<p>When the little man was asked to open his budget, +“Why, gentlemen,” said he, “I do not see that I can do +better than comply with the understood wish of the company, +by giving you a sketch of my own life, which you +will find to present, I think, as curious a race, or struggle, +or whatever else you may choose to call it, between luck +and misfortune, as perhaps you have heard of:—</p> + +<p>You must know, then, my friends (went on the little +gentleman in the bright yellow waistcoat), that the indications +of my future good fortune began to exhibit themselves +as early as they well could. I was born with a caul upon +my head, gentlemen, which all of you know is an indubitable +token that the little personage to whom it belongs will be +singularly fortunate in life. Well, gentleman, I was favoured, +as I have already said, with one of those desirable headpieces; +and great was the joy the circumstance gave rise +to amongst the female friends and gossips who were assembled +on the occasion. The midwife said that everything I +should put my hand to would prosper, and that I would +be, to a certainty, at the very least, a general, a bishop, or +a judge; the nurse to whom I was subsequently consigned, +on the same ground, dubbed me a duke, and would never +call me by any other title; whilst my poor mother saw me, +in perspective, sitting amongst the great ones of the earth, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +surrounded with power, wealth, and glory. Such were the +bright visions of my future prosperity, to which my caul +gave rise; and probably they might have been realized, +had it not been for an unlucky counteracting or thwarting +power that always stepped in, seemingly for no other purpose +but to disappoint my own hopes and those of my +friends; sometimes baulking my expectations altogether, +when on the point of fruition—sometimes converting that +to evil in me which would assuredly have produced good +to any other person. But to proceed with my history. I +grew up a fine, stout, well-made child. Ay, you may +laugh, gentlemen (said the little man, good-humouredly, +seeing a titter go round at this personal allusion, which so +ill accorded with his present deformed appearance), but it +was the case, I assure you, until I met with the accidents +that altered my shape to what you now see it. Well, I +repeat, that I grew a fine promising child, and, to the inexpressible +amazement and delight of my parents, showed +symptoms of taking unusually early to my legs.</p> + +<p>Nor were these symptoms unfaithful. I took to my pins, +on my own account, before I was ten months old; but, +unfortunately, my first walk was into a draw-well, where I +would infallibly have been drowned, if it had not been for +a large Newfoundland dog which my father kept, and which +was close by me at the time of the accident. The faithful +creature leapt in after me, and kept me afloat, until my +father came and extricated me. After this, I was never +trusted a moment out of sight; and thus, instead of this +precocious developement of my physical powers proving a +blessing to me, it proved a curse; for it deprived me of all +liberty. As I grew up, however, this restraint became less +rigorous, and I was permitted to ramble in the garden; +and one of my first feats, after obtaining this freedom, was, +to climb a high wall, to come at an uncommonly fine apple +that had long tempted me with its rosy cheeks, and I had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +just succeeded in getting near enough to the prize to grasp +it, when, in making this effort, down I came; and this leg, +gentlemen (said the little man, holding out his deformed +limb), was the consequence. I fell and broke my leg, just +as I was about to grasp the apple. Fatal type of all my +subsequent misfortunes!</p> + +<p>I have now, gentlemen (went on the little man), to +account for the other deformity that disfigures me, viz.,—my +hump-back. This befell me in the following manner. +Playing one day with a number of boys, of about my own +age, which was then six or seven, a big fellow, of double the +size of any of us, came in amongst us, and began to plunder +us of our playthings; and he was in the very act of +robbing me of a hoop, when another lad, still stronger and +bigger, who saw the attempted robbery, generously ran to +my assistance, and aimed a tremendous blow with a stick +at my assailant. The blow, however, missed him at whom +it was aimed, and took me exactly on the small of the back, +which it broke in two as if it had been a pipe shank; and +the consequence was, as you see, gentlemen (said the little +man in the bright yellow waistcoat, edging round, at the +same time, to indicate his hump).</p> + +<p>Well, then, gentlemen (he went on), up to my ninth +year, this was all the good fortune that my caul brought +me—that is, being first half-drowned, then breaking my +leg, and lastly my back. To compensate, however, in some +measure, for these mischances, I turned out an excellent +scholar; and, especially, became a very expert Latinist—a +circumstance which my father, who had a great veneration +for the language, thought sufficient alone to make my +fortune; and it certainly procured me—that is, very nearly +procured me—in the meantime, some of the chief honours +of the school. I say very nearly—for I did not actually +obtain them; but it was only by the merest accident in +the world that I did not. The misapprehension of a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +single word deprived me of a prize which was about to +be awarded to me, and gave it to one of my competitors. +This was reckoned a very hard case; but there was no +help for it.</p> + +<p>Still there was luck in the caul, gentlemen (continued +the little man in the bright yellow waistcoat), as you shall +hear. Going home from school one day, a distance of about +a mile and a half, I found a very handsome gold watch, +with valuable appendages, lying upon the road. I was at +first afraid to lift the glittering treasure, hardly believing +it possible that so rich and splendid a thing could be without +an owner; but, gradually picking up courage, I seized +on the watch, hurried it into my pocket, and ran onwards +like a madman. I had not run far, however, when a man, +respectably dressed, but who seemed the worse of liquor, +or rather like one just recovering from a debauch, met me, +and, seizing me by the breast, fiercely asked me if I had +seen anything of a gold watch. I instantly confessed that +I had found such a thing; and, trembling with apprehension, +for the fellow continued to look furiously at me, produced +the watch.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said he, taking it from me. “Now, you +little villain you, confess. You did not find the watch, but +stole it from me whilst I slept on the roadside.”</p> + +<p>I protested that it was not so—that I had found it as I +had said. To this protest the fellow replied by striking +me a violent blow on the side of the head, which stretched +me on the road; where, after administering two or three +parting kicks, to teach me honesty, as he said, he left me +in a state of insensibility. I was shortly afterwards picked +up and carried home; but so severe had been the drubbing +I got, that I was obliged to keep my bed for three weeks +after. And this was all I gained by finding a gold watch. +Had any other person found it, they would have been +allowed to keep it, or, at the worst, have got a handsome +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +reward for giving it up; but such things were to be not in +any case in which I should be concerned.</p> + +<p>Still I say, gentlemen (continued the little man in the +bright yellow waistcoat), there <em>was</em> luck in the caul; for, +soon after, a distant relation of my mother’s, who had been +long in the West Indies, and had there realized a large +fortune, having come to England on some business, paid +us a visit, and was so well pleased with the attention +shown him, and with the society he got introduced to, that +he spent the whole subsequent period of his temporary +residence in this country with us. During this time, he +became remarkably fond of me—so fond that he could +never be without me. I was obliged to accompany him +in all his walks, and even to sleep with him. In short, he +became so attached to me, that it was evident to every one +that some good would come out of it; for he was immensely +rich, and had no family of his own, never having been +married. Indeed, that I would be the better for the old +boy’s love was not matter of conjecture, for he frequently +hinted it very broadly. He would often take me on his +knee, and, while fondling me, would say, in presence of my +father and mother—“Well, my little fellow, who knows +but you may ride in your carriage yet? As odd things +have happened.” Then, “Would you like to be a rich +man, Bobby?” he would inquire, looking archly at me. +“If you continue as good a boy as you are just now, I’ll +undertake to promise that you will.” In short, before +leaving us, our wealthy friend, whose name was Jeremiah +Hairsplitter, held out certain hopes to my parents of my +being handsomely provided for in his will. This so affected +us all, that we wept bitterly when the good old man left +us to return to the West Indies; where, however, he told +us, he now intended remaining only a short time, having +made up his mind to come home and spend the remainder +of his days with us.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +Well, gentlemen (said the little hump-backed man in +the bright yellow waistcoat), here was a very agreeable +prospect, you’ll all allow; and it was one in which there +appeared so much certainty, that it cost my father—who +had been led to believe he should get a handsome slice too—many +serious thoughts as to how we should dispose of the +money—how lay it out to the best advantage. My father, +who was a very pious man, determined, for one thing, to +build a church; and, as to me and my fortune, he thought +the best thing I could do, seeing, from my deformities, that +I was not very well adapted for undergoing the fatigues of +a professional life, was, when I should become a little older, +to turn country gentleman; and with this idea he was +himself so well pleased, that he began, thinking it best to +take time by the forelock, to look around for a suitable seat +for me when I should come of age and be ready to act on +my own account; and he fortunately succeeded in finding +one that seemed a very eligible investment. It was a very +handsome country house, about the distance of three miles +from where we lived, and to which there was attached an +estate of 1000 acres of land, all in a high state of cultivation. +The upset price of the whole—for the property was +at that moment on sale—was £20,000; a dead bargain, as +the lawyer who had the management of the property +assured us. It was worth at least double the money, he +said; and in this Mr. Longshanks, the land-measurer, whom +my father also consulted on the subject, perfectly agreed; +but was good enough to give my father a quiet hint to hold +off a bit, and, as the proprietor was in great distress for +money, he might probably get the estate for £18,000, or +something, at any rate, considerably below the price +named. Grateful for this hint, my father invited Mr. +Longshanks to dine with him, and gave him a bottle of his +best wine. Now, gentlemen, please to observe (said the +little hunch-backed gentleman in the bright yellow waistcoat) +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +that while we were thus treating about an estate +worth £20,000, we had not a sixpence wherewith to buy +it; so that Mr. Longshanks’ hint about holding off was +rather a superfluous one. But then our prospects were +good—nay, certain; there was, therefore, no harm—nay, it +was proper and prudent to anticipate matters a little in the +way we did; so that we might at once have the advantage +of sufficient time to do things deliberately, and be prepared +to make a good use of our fortune the moment we got possession +of it.</p> + +<p>That our prospects were excellent, I think you will all +allow, gentlemen, when you take into account what I have +already told regarding our worthy relative; but that they +really were so, you will still more readily admit, when I +tell you that we received many letters from Mr. Hairsplitter, +after his arrival in Jamaica (for he now opened a regular +correspondence with us), in all of which he continued not +only to keep our hopes alive, as to the destination of his +wealth, but to increase them; so that I—for the bulk of +his fortune, there was no doubt, was intended for me—was +already looked upon as a singularly lucky young dog; and +of this opinion, in the most unqualified sense, and in a most +especial manner, was my mother, my nurse, and the lady +who ushered me into the world—all of whom exultingly +referred to my caul, and to their own oft-expressed sentiments +regarding the luck that was to befall me.</p> + +<p>But, to return to my story. After a lapse of about two +or three years, during which, as I have said, we received +many letters from our worthy relative, one came, in which +he informed us that it was the last we should have from +him from Jamaica, as he had wound up all his affairs, and +was about to leave the island, to return home and spend +the remainder of his days with us, or in our immediate +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Well, gentlemen, you see matters were gradually approaching +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +to a very delightful crisis; and we, as you may +believe, saw it with no small satisfaction. We indulged in +the most delicious dreams; indeed, our whole life was now +one continued reverie of the most soothing and balmy kind. +From this dreamy state, however, we were very soon awakened +by the following paragraph in a newspaper, which +my father accidentally stumbled on, one morning as we were +at breakfast. It was headed “Dreadful Shipwreck,” and +went on thus:—“It is with feelings of the most sincere +regret we inform our readers, that the Isabella, from +Jamaica to London, has foundered at sea, and every one +on board perished, together with the whole of a most valuable +cargo. Amongst the unfortunate passengers in this +ill-fated vessel was a Mr. Jeremiah Hairsplitter, a well-known +Jamaica planter, who was on his return, for good +and all, to his native land. The whole of this gentleman’s +wealth, which was enormous, will now go, it is said (he having +died intestate), to a poor man in this neighbourhood +[Liverpool], who is nearest of kin.”</p> + +<p>Well, gentlemen (continued the little hump-backed man +in the bright yellow waistcoat), here was a pretty finish to +all our bright anticipations! For some time, indeed, we +entertained hopes that the reports, especially the last, +might be false; but, alas! they turned out too true. True, +true were they, to the letter. My father, unwilling to +believe that all was lost, called upon a lawyer in the town +where we resided, who had a good deal to do with our late +relative’s affairs; and, after mentioning to him the footing +we were on with the deceased, and the expectations he had +led us to indulge in, inquired if <em>nothing</em> would arise to us +from Mr. Hairsplitter’s effects.</p> + +<p>“Not a rap!” was the laconic and dignified reply—“not +a cross, not a cowrie! You haven’t a shadow of claim to +anything. All that Mr. Hairsplitter may have said goes for +nothing, as it is not down in black and white, in legal phrase.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +So, my friends (said the narrator, with a sigh) here was +an end to this fortune and to my luck, at that bout, at any +rate. Still, gentlemen (went on the little hump-backed +man in the bright yellow waistcoat), I maintain there was +luck in the caul.</p> + +<p>I was now, you must know, my friends, getting up in +years—that is to say, I was now somewhere about one-and-twenty. +Well, my father, thinking it full time that I should +be put in a way of doing something for myself, applied, in +my behalf, to a certain nobleman who resided in our neighbourhood, +and who was under obligations to my father for +some election services. When my father called on the +peer alluded to, and informed him of his object—“Why, +sir,” said his lordship, “this is rather a fortunate circumstance +for both of us. I am just now in want of precisely +such a young man as you describe your son to be, to act as +my secretary and amanuensis, and will therefore be very +glad to employ him.” His lordship then mentioned his +terms. They were liberal, and, of course, instantly accepted. +This settled, my father was desired to send me to Cram +Hall, his lordship’s residence, next day, to enter on my new +duties.</p> + +<p>Here, then, you see, was luck at last, gentlemen (said +the little hump-backed gentleman in the bright yellow +waistcoat); for the nobleman was powerful, and there was +no saying what he might do for me. Next day, accordingly, +I repaired to Cram Hall with a beating, but exulting heart; +for I was at once proud of my employment, and terrified +for my employer, who was, I knew, a dignified, pompous, +vain, conceited personage.</p> + +<p>“Show off your Latin to him, Dick, my boy,” said my +father, before I set out: “it will give him a good opinion +of your talents and erudition.” I promised that I would.</p> + +<p>Well, on being introduced to his lordship, he received +me with the most affable condescension; but there was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +something about his affability, I thought, which made it +look extremely like as if it had been assumed for the purpose +of showing how a great man could descend.</p> + +<p>“Glad to see you, young man,” he said. “I hope you +and I shall get on well together. But there was just one +single question regarding you, which I quite forgot to put +to your father. Do you understand Latin thoroughly?—that +is, can you translate it readily?”</p> + +<p>Feeling my own strength on this point, and delighted that +he had afforded me so early an opportunity of declaring it, +I replied, with a degree of exultation which I had some +difficulty in repressing—“I flatter myself, my lord, that +you will not find me deficient in that particular. I understand +Latin very well, and will readily undertake to translate +anything in that language which may be presented to +me.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” replied his lordship, gravely, “I am +sorry to say, young man, you will not suit me.”</p> + +<p>“How, my lord!” said I, with a look of mingled amazement +and disappointment—“because I understand Latin? +I should have thought that a recommendation to your +lordship’s service.”</p> + +<p>“Quite otherwise, sir,” replied his lordship, coolly. “It +may appear to you, indeed, sir, rather an odd ground of +disqualification. But the thing is easily explained. I have +often occasion, sir,” he went on, with increasing dignity, +“to write on matters of importance to my friends in the +cabinet; and, when I have anything of a very particular +nature to say, I always write my sentiments in Latin. It +would therefore, sir, be imprudent of me to employ any +one in transcribing such letters, who is conversant with +the language alluded to; or, indeed, otherwise exposing +them to the eye of such a person. You will, therefore, +young man,” continued the peer—now rising from his seat, +as if with a desire that I should take the movement as a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +hint that he wished the interview to terminate—“present +my respects to your father, and say that I am very sorry +for this affair—very sorry, indeed.”</p> + +<p>Saying this, he edged me towards the door; and, long +before I reached it, bowed me a good morning, which there +was no evading. I acknowledged it the best way I could, +left the house, and returned home—I leave you, gentlemen, +to conceive with what feelings. My Latin, you see, +of which I was so vain, and which, with anybody else, +would have been a help to success in the world in many +situations, and in none could have been against it, was the +very reverse to me.</p> + +<p>That there was luck in the caul, gentlemen, nevertheless, +I still maintain (said the little hump-backed man in the +bright yellow waistcoat, laughing); and you will acknowledge +it when I tell you that, soon after the occurrence just +related, I bought a ticket in the lottery, which turned out +a prize of £20,000.”</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha! at last!” here shouted out, with one voice, all +the little man’s auditors. “So you caught it at last!”</p> + +<p>“Not so fast, gentlemen, if you please—not so fast,” said +the little man, gravely. “The facts certainly were as I +have stated. I did buy a ticket in the lottery. I recollect +the number well, and will as long as I live. I chose it for +its oddity. It was 9999, and it did turn out a £20,000 +prize. But there is a trifling particular or two regarding it +which I have yet to explain. A gentleman, an acquaintance +of mine, to whom I had expressed some regret at having +ventured so much money on a lottery ticket, offered +not only to relieve me of it, but to give me a premium of +five pounds, subject to a deduction of the price of a bowl +of punch. “A bird in hand’s worth two in the bush,” +thought I, and at once closed with his offer. Nay, so well +pleased was I with my bargain, that I insisted on giving +an additional bowl, and actually did so.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Next day, my ticket was drawn a twenty thousand +pound prize! and I had the happiness (added the little +man, with a rueful expression of countenance) of communicating +to my friend his good luck, as the letter of advice +on the subject came, in the first instance, to me.</p> + +<p>However, gentlemen, luck there was in the caul still, +say I (continued the little hump-backed gentleman in the +bright yellow waistcoat). Love, gentlemen—sweet, dear, +delightful love!—(here the little man looked extremely +sentimental)—came to soothe my woes and banish my +regrets. Yes, my friends he said (observing a slight +smile of surprise and incredulity on the countenance of +his auditors, proceeding, we need hardly say, from certain +impressions regarding his personal appearance), I say that +love—dear, delightful love—came now to my aid, to reconcile +me to my misfortunes, and to restore my equanimity. +The objects of my affections—for there were two——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, unconscionable man!” we here all exclaimed in +one breath. “Two! Ah! too bad that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I repeat, two,” said the little man composedly—“the +objects of my passion were two. The one was a +beautiful girl of three-and-twenty—the other, a beautiful +little fortune of £10,000, of which she was in full and uncontrolled +possession. Well, gentlemen, to make a long +story short, we loved each other most devotedly; for she +was a girl of singular judgment and penetration, and placed +little store by mere personal appearance in those she loved: +the mind, gentlemen—the mind was what this amiable girl +looked to. Well, as I was saying, we loved each other +with the fondest affection, and at length I succeeded in +prevailing upon her to name the happy day when we +should become one. Need I describe to you, gentleman, +what were my transports—what the intoxicating feelings +of delight with which my whole soul was absorbed by the +contemplation of the delicious prospect that lay before me! +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +A beautiful woman and a fortune of £10,000 within my +grasp! No. I’m sure I need not describe the sensations +I allude to, gentlemen—you will at once conceive and +appreciate them.</p> + +<p>Well, my friends, all went smoothly on with me this +time. The happy day arrived—we proceeded to church. +The clergyman began the service. In three minutes more, +gentleman, I would have been indissolubly united to my +beloved and her £10,000, when, at this critical moment, a +person rushed breathless into the church, forced his way +through the crowd of friends by whom we were surrounded, +and caught my betrothed in his arms, exclaiming—“Jessie, +Jessie! would you forsake me? Have you forgot your +vows?” Jessie replied by a loud shriek, and immediately +fainted.</p> + +<p>Here, then, you see, gentlemen (continued the little +hump-backed man in the bright yellow waistcoat), was a +pretty kick-up all in a moment.</p> + +<p>In a twinkling, the bevy of friends by whom we were +accompanied scattered in all directions—some running for +water, some for brandy, some for one thing and some for +another, till there was scarcely one left in the church. The +service was, of course, instantly stopped; and my beloved +was, in the meantime, very tenderly supported by the arms +of the stranger; for such he was to me at any rate, although +by no means so either to the lady herself or to her friends. +I was, as you may well believe, all astonishment and amazement +at this extraordinary scene, and could not at all conceive +what it meant; but it was not long before I was very +fully informed on this head. To return, however, in the +meantime, to the lady. On recovering from her fainting +fit, the stranger, who had been all along contemplating her +with a look of the most tender affection, asked her, in a +gentle voice, “If she would still continue true to him.” +And, gentlemen, she answered, though in a voice scarcely +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +audible, “Yes;” and, immediately after, the two walked +out of the church arm in arm, in spite of the remonstrances +and even threats of myself and my friends—leaving us, and +me in particular, to such reflections on the uncertainty of +all human events as the circumstance which had just +occurred was calculated to excite. In three weeks after, +the stranger and Jessie were married. Who he was is +soon explained. He had been a favoured lover of Jessie’s +some seven years before, and had gone abroad, where +it was believed he had died, there having been no word +from him during the greater part of that period. How +this was explained I never knew; but that he was not +dead, you will allow was now pretty clearly established.</p> + +<p>Now, gentlemen (added our little friend), I have +brought my mishaps up to the present date. What may +be still in store for me, I know not; but I have now brought +myself to the peaceful and most comfortable condition of +having no hopes of succeeding in anything, and therefore +am freed, at least, from all liability to the pains of disappointment.” +And here ended the story of the little hump-backed +gentleman in the bright yellow waistcoat.</p> + +<p>We all felt for his disappointments, and wished him +better luck.</p> + +<p>The person to whose turn it came next to entertain us, +was a quiet, demure looking personage, of grave demeanour, +but of mild and pleasant countenance. His gravity, +we thought, partook a little of melancholy; and he was, in +consequence, recognised generally in the house by the title +of the melancholy gentleman. He was, however, very far +from being morose; indeed, on the contrary, he was exceedingly +kind and gentle in his manner, and would not, +I am convinced, have harmed the meanest insect that crawls, +let alone his own species.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” said this person, on being informed +that it was his turn to divert us with some story or other, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +“I will do the best I can to entertain you, and will follow +the example of my unfortunate predecessor of the evening, +by choosing a subject of something of a personal nature.”</p> + +<p>“To begin, then, my friends,” went on the melancholy +gentleman—“I do not, I think, arrogate too much when I +say that I am as peaceable and peace-loving a man as ever +existed. I have always abhorred strife and wrangling; and +never knowingly or willingly interfere in any way with the +affairs of my neighbours or of others. I would, in short, +at any time, rather sacrifice my interests than quarrel with +any one; while I reckon it the greatest happiness to be let +alone, and to be allowed to get through the world quietly +and noiselessly. From my very infancy, my friends (said +the melancholy gentleman), I loved quiet above all things; +and there is a tradition in our family, strikingly corroborative +of this. The tradition alluded to bears that I never +cried while an infant, and that I never could endure my +rattle. Well, gentlemen, such were and such still are my +dispositions. But, offending no one, and interfering with +no one, how have I been treated in my turn? You shall +hear.</p> + +<p>At school, I was thrashed by the master for not interfering +to prevent my companions fighting; and I was thrashed +by my companions for not taking part in their quarrels: +so that, between them, I had, I assure you, a very miserable +life of it. However, these were but small matters, +compared to what befell me after I had fairly embarked in +the world.</p> + +<p>My first experience after this, of how little my peaceful +and inoffensive disposition would avail me, was with an +evening club which I joined. For some time I got on very +well with the persons who composed this association, and +seemed—at least I thought so—to be rather a favourite +with them, on account of my quiet and peaceable demeanour; +and, under ordinary circumstances, perhaps I might +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +have continued so. But the demon of discord got amongst +them, and I became, in consequence of my non-resisting +qualities, the scapegoat of their spleen; or rather, I became +the safety-valve by which their passions found a harmless +egress. But, to drop metaphor, my friends (said the +melancholy gentleman), the club got to loggerheads on a +certain political question—I forget now what it was—and +for some nights there was a great deal of angry discussion +and violent altercation on the subject. In these debates, +however, in accordance with my natural disposition, I took +no part whatever, except by making some fruitless attempts +to abate the resentment of the parties, by thrusting in a +jocular remark or so, when anything particularly severe +was said. Well, gentlemen, how was I rewarded for this +charitable conduct, think you? Why, I’ll tell you.</p> + +<p>On the third or fourth night, I think it was, of the discussion +alluded to, a member got up and said, addressing +the club—“My friends, a good deal of vituperation and +opprobrious language has been used in this here room, regarding +the question we have been discussing these three +or four nights back; but we have all spoke our minds freely, +and stood to it like men who isn’t afeard to speak their +sentiments anywhere. Now, I says that’s what I likes. I +likes a man to stand to his tackle. But I hates, as I do +the devil, your snakes in the grass, your smooth-chopped +fellows, who hears all and never says nothing, so as how +you can’t tell whether he is fish or flesh. I say, I hate such +dastardly, sneaking fellows, who won’t speak out; and I +says that such are unfit for this company;” (here the +speaker looked hard at me); “and I move that he be +turned out directly, neck and heel.”</p> + +<p>Well, this speech, my friends (went on the melancholy +gentleman), which you will perceive was levelled at me, +was received with a shout of applause by both parties. The +ruffing and cheering was immense; and most laudably +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +prompt was the execution of the proposal that excited it. +Before I had time to evacuate the premises quietly and of +my own accord, which I was about to do, I was seized by +the breast by a tall ferocious-looking fellow, who sat next +me, and who was immediately aided by three or four others, +and dragged over every obstacle that stood in the way to +the door, out of which I was finally kicked with particular +emphasis.</p> + +<p>Such, then, my friends (said the melancholy gentleman), +was the first most remarkable instance of the benefits I was +likely to derive from my inoffensive non-meddling disposition. +However, it was my nature; and neither this +unmerited treatment, nor any other usage which I afterwards +experienced, could alter it.</p> + +<p>Some time after this, I connected myself with a certain +congregation in our town, and it unfortunately happened +that, soon after I joined them, they came all to sixes and +sevens about a minister. One party was for a Mr. Triterite, +the other a Mr. White. These were distinguished, as usual, +in such and similar cases, by the adjunct <em>ite</em>, which had, as +you may perceive, a most unhappy effect in the case of the +name of the first gentleman, whose followers were called +Triteriteites, and those of the other Whiteites. However, +this was but a small matter. To proceed. In the squabbles +alluded to, gentlemen, I took no part; it being a matter +of perfect indifference to me which of the candidates +had the appointment. All that I desired was, that I might +be let alone, and not be called upon to interfere in any way +in the dispute. But would they allow me this indulgence, +think you? No, not they. They resolved, seemingly, +that my unobtrusive conduct should be no protection to +me. Two or three days after the commencement of the +contest, I was waited upon by a deputation from a committee +of the Triteriteites, and requested to join them in +opposing the Whiteites. This I civilly declined; telling +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +them, at the same time, that it was my intention and my +earnest wish to avoid all interference in the pending controversy; +that I was perfectly indifferent to which of the +candidates the church was given, and would be very glad +to become a hearer of either of them; that, in short, I +wished to make myself no enemies on account of any such +contest.</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well, Mr. B——,” said the spokesman, reddening +with anger, “we understand all this perfectly, and +think very little, I assure you, of such mean evasive conduct. +Had you said boldly and at once that you favoured +the other party, we would at least have given you credit +for honesty. But you may depend upon it, sir,” he added, +“White never will get the church. That you may rely +upon.”</p> + +<p>“Scurvy conduct,” muttered another of the committee, +as he was retiring after the speaker.</p> + +<p>“Shabby, sniveling, <em>drivelling</em> conduct,” muttered a third.</p> + +<p>“Low, mean, <em>sneaking</em> conduct,” said a fourth.</p> + +<p>“Dirty subterfuge,” exclaimed a fifth. And off the gentlemen +went.</p> + +<p>But they had not yet done with me. One of the number +was a person with whom I had some acquaintance, and the +next day I received from him the following note:—“Sir, +your unmanly (I will not mince the matter with you), +your unmanly and disingenuous conduct yesterday, when +called upon by Mr. Triterite’s committee, has so disgusted +me that I beg you to understand that we are friends no +longer. A candid and open avowal of opposite sentiments +from those which I entertain, I trust, I shall be always +liberal enough to tolerate in any one, without prejudice to +previous intimacy; but I cannot remain on terms of friendship +with a man who has the meanness to seek to conciliate +the party he opposes, by concealing his adherence to that +which he has espoused.—I am, sir,” &c.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +Well, my friends (said the melancholy gentleman), was +not this an extremely hard case? To be thus abused, and +reviled, and scouted, for merely desiring to be allowed to +live in peace, and to have nothing to do with a squabble +in which I did not feel in any way interested. But this was +not all. I was lampooned, caricatured, and paragraphed +in the newspapers, in a thousand different ways. In the +first, I was satirized as the <em>fair</em> dealer; in the second, I was +represented as a wolf in sheep’s clothing; and in the last, I +was hinted at as “a certain quiet double-faced gentleman, +not a hundred miles from hence.”</p> + +<p>But still this was not all. Two or three days after I had +been waited on by the Triteriteites, the same honour was +done me by the Whiteites, and with similar views. To the +gentlemen of this party, I said precisely what I had said +to those of the opposite faction, and begged of them, +in heaven’s name, to let me alone, and settle the matter +amongst them as they best could.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied one of the gentlemen, when I had done, +“I must say, I did not expect this of you, Mr. B. I thought +I could have reckoned on your support; but it doesn’t +signify. We can secure Mr. White’s appointment without +you. But I must say, if you had been the candid man I +took you for, you would have told me, ere this, that you +meant to have supported the other party. I really cannot +think very highly, Mr. B., of your conduct in this matter; +but it doesn’t signify, sir—it doesn’t signify. We now know +who are our friends and who are not. Mr. Triterite, you +may depend upon it, will never get the church, even +though he has you to support him.” Saying this, he +turned on his heel and left me, followed by his train, who, +precisely as the others had done, muttered as they went, +“shabby fellow,” “mean scamp,” “shuffling conduct,” +“snake in the grass” (favourite phrase this), &c. &c.</p> + +<p>Well, my friends, here you see (said the melancholy +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +gentleman), without giving any one the smallest offence, +and desiring nothing so much as peace and the good will +of my neighbours—here was I, I say, become obnoxious +to heaven knows how many people; for my reputation +naturally extended from the committees to the other members +of the congregation, and from them again to their +friends and acquaintances; so that I had, in the end, a +pretty formidable array of enemies. The consequence of +this affair was, that I soon found myself compelled, from +the petty persecutions and annoyances of all sorts, to which +I was subsequently exposed, to leave the congregation +altogether. However, to compensate for all these troubles +and vexations, I had the good fortune, about this time, to +become acquainted with a very amiable young lady, as +peaceably inclined and as great a lover of quiet as myself. +This lady I married, having previously secured a house in +one of the quietest and most retired places in the town, so +as to be out of the way of all noise and din. Immediately +beneath this house, however, there was an empty unlet +shop, which I could not help regarding with a suspicious +eye, from an apprehension that it might be taken by a +person of some noisy calling or other; and so much at last +did this fear alarm me, that I determined on taking the +shop into my own hands, and running myself the risk of +its letting—thus securing the choice of a tenant. Having +come to this resolution, then, I called upon the landlord +and inquired the rent.</p> + +<p>“O sir,” said he, “the shop is let.”</p> + +<p>“Let, sir!” replied I; “I saw a ticket on it yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“That might well be, sir, for it was only let this morning.”</p> + +<p>“And to whom, sir, is it let, may I ask? I mean, sir, +what is his business?”</p> + +<p>“A tinsmith, sir,” said the landlord, coolly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +“A tinsmith!” replied I, turning pale. “Then my worse +fears are realized!”</p> + +<p>The landlord looked surprised, and inquired what I meant. +I told him, and had a laugh from him for my pains.</p> + +<p>Yes, my friends (said the melancholy gentleman), a tinsmith +had taken the shop—a working tinsmith—and a most +industrious and hard-working one he was, to my cost. But +this was not the worst of it. The tinsmith was not a week +in his new shop, when he received a large West India order; +and when I mention that this piece of good fortune, as I +have no doubt he reckoned it, compelled him to engage +about a score of additional hands, I may safely leave it to +yourselves, gentlemen, to conceive what sort of a neighbourhood +I soon found myself in. On this subject, then, +I need only say, that, in less than a week thereafter, I was +fairly hammered out of the house, and compelled to look +out for other quarters. But this, after all, was merely a +personal matter—one which did not involve the inimical +feelings of others towards me; and, therefore, though an +inconvenience at the time, it did not disturb my quiet +beyond the moment of suffering, as those unhappy occurrences +did in which I had, however unwittingly, provoked +the enmity of others; and, therefore, after I had been fairly +settled in my new house, I thought very little more about +the matter, and was beginning to enjoy the calm, quiet life +which I so much loved, as nobody had meddled with me +for upwards of three weeks. But, alas! this felicity was +to be but of short duration. The election of a member of +Parliament came on, and I had a vote—but I had determined +to make no use of it; for, being but little of a politician, +and, above all things, desiring to be on good terms +with everybody, whatever might be their religious or political +persuasions, I thought the best way for me was to +take no share whatever in the impending contest; it being +a mere matter of moonshine to me whether Whig or Tory +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +was uppermost. In adopting this neutral course, I expected, +and I think not unreasonably, to get quietly through +with the matter, and that I should avoid giving offence to +any one. I will further confess, that, besides this feeling, +I was guided to a certain extent by interest. I had many +customers of opposite political tenets—Whig, Tory, and +Radical—and I was desirous of retaining the custom and +good will of them all, by taking part with none. Grievous +error—dreadful mistake!</p> + +<p>Soon after, the candidates started, and there happened +to be one of each of the three classes just mentioned—that +is, Whig, Tory, and Radical. I received a card from one +of my best customers, a Whig, containing a larger order +than usual for tea, wine, spirits, &c.—such being the articles +in which I deal, gentlemen (said our melancholy friend); +but, at the bottom of the slip, there was the following +note:—“Mr. S—— hopes he may count on Mr. B.’s supporting +the Liberal interest in the ensuing election, by giving +his vote to Lord Botherem. Mr. S—— is perfectly +aware of Mr. B.’s indifference to political matters; but it +is on this very account that Mr. S—— reckons on his support, +as it can be a matter of no moment to him to whom +he gives his vote.”</p> + +<p>Well, gentleman, here you see was the first attack upon +me; and the second soon followed. I saw the storm that +was gathering. In the course of the very same day, I was +waited on by another customer, an inveterate Tory.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. B.,” he said, on entering my shop, “I am +come to solicit a very important favour from you; but still +one which I am sure you will not refuse an old friend and +a tolerably good customer. In short, Mr. B.,” he went +on, “knowing it is a matter of moonshine to you who is +member for this burgh—for I’ve heard you say so—I have +come to ask your vote for Mr. Blatheringham, the Tory +candidate.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +“My dear sir,” I replied, “you are quite right in saying +that it is a matter of moonshine to me what may be the +political tenets of our member; but I have resolved—and I +have done so for that very reason—not to interfere in the +matter at all. I do not mean to vote on any side.” And I +laughed; but my friend looked grave.</p> + +<p>“Oh! you don’t, Mr. B.!” he said. “Then am I to +understand that you won’t oblige me in this matter, although +it is on a point which is of no consequence to you, on your +own confession, and, therefore, requiring no sacrifice of +political principle.”</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” replied I, in the mildest and most conciliating +manner possible, anxious to turn away wrath—“I +have already said”——</p> + +<p>“Oh! I know very well, sir, what you have said, and +I’ll recollect it, too, you may depend upon it, and not +much to your profit. My account’s closed with you, sir. +Good morning!” And out of the shop he went in a furious +passion. On the day following this, I received a note from +the Whig canvasser, in reply to one from me on the subject +of <em>his</em> solicitation, in which I had expressed nearly the +same sentiments which I delivered verbally to my Tory +friend: and in this note I was served with almost precisely +the same terms which the Tory had used in return, only he +carried the matter a little farther—telling me plainly that +he would not only withdraw his own custom from me, but +do his endeavour to deprive me of the custom of those of +his friends who dealt with me, who were of the same political +opinions with himself. This I thought barefaced +enough; and I daresay you will agree with me, my friends +(said the melancholy gentleman), that it was so.</p> + +<p>Here then, were two of my best customers lost to me for +ever. Nay, not only their own custom, but that of all their +political partisans who happened to deal with me; for the +one was fully as good as his word, and the other a great +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +deal better: that is to say, the one who threatened to deprive +me of the custom of his friends, as well as his own, +did so most effectually; while the other, who held out no +such threat, did precisely the same thing by his friends, +and with at least equal success.</p> + +<p>In truth, I wanted now but to be asked to support the +Radical interest to be fairly ruined; and this was a piece of +good fortune that was not long denied me. “My dear Bob,”—thus +commenced a note, which I had, on this unhappy +occasion, from an intimate friend, a rattling, rough, outspoken +fellow—“As I know your political creed to be +couched in the phrase—‘Let who likes be king, I’ll be +subject’—that is, you don’t care one of your own figs what +faction is uppermost—I request, as a personal favour, your +support for Mr. Sweepthedecks; and this I do the more +readily, that I know there is no chance of your being pre-engaged. +Now, you musn’t refuse me, Bob, else you and +I will positively quarrel; for I have promised to secure +you.”</p> + +<p>Here then, you see, my friends (said the melancholy +gentleman), was a climax. The unities in the system of +persecution adopted against me were strictly observed. +There was beginning, middle, and end complete—nothing +wanting. Well—still determined to maintain my neutrality—I +wrote a note to my friend, expressing precisely +the same sentiments to which I have so often alluded. To +this note I received no answer; and can only conjecture +the effect it had upon him by the circumstance of his withdrawing +his custom from me, and never again entering my shop.</p> + +<p>Observe, however, my friends (here said the melancholy +gentleman), that, in speaking of the persecutions I underwent +on this occasion, I have merely selected instances—you +are by no means to understand that the cases just +mentioned included all the annoyance I met with on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +subject of my vote. Not at all. I have, as already said, +merely instanced these cases. I was assailed by scores of +others in the same way. Indeed, there was not a day, for +upwards of three weeks, that I was not badgered and +abused by somebody or other—ay, and that too, in my +own shop. But my shop was now not worth keeping; for +Whig, Tory, and Radical had deserted me, and left me to +the full enjoyment of my reflections on the course I had +pursued. In short, I found that, in endeavouring to offend +no one, I had offended everybody; and that, in place of +securing my own peace, I had taken the most effectual way +I possibly could to make myself unhappy.</p> + +<p>Well, in the meantime, you see, my friends (continued +the melancholy gentleman), the election came on, and was +gained by the Whig candidate. The streets were on the +occasion paraded by the partisans of each of the parties; +and, as is not unusual in such cases, there was a great deal +of mischief done, and of which, as a sufferer, I came in for +a very liberal share. The Whig mob attacked my shop, +and demolished everything in it, to celebrate their triumph, +as they said, by plucking a <em>hen</em>—in other words, one who +would not support them. The Tory mob, again, attacked +my house, and smashed every one of my windows, alleging +that, as I was not a Tory, I must be a Whig; and, finally, +the third estate came in, and finished what the other two +had left undone, because I was not a Radical.</p> + +<p>Here, then, gentlemen, was I, I repeat, who had offended +no one, or, at least, had given no one any reasonable +grounds of offence, but who, on the contrary, was most +anxious to remain on friendly terms with everybody—here, +I say, then, was I, surrounded with enemies, persecuted +at all hands, my business dwindled away to nothing, +and, lastly, my effects destroyed, to the extent of nearly +all I possessed in the world. There was still, however, a +small residue left; and with this I now determined to retire +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +to the country, and to take a small house in some sequestered +place, at a distance from all other human habitations, +with the view of ascertaining if I could not there secure +the peace and quietness which I found the most harmless +and inoffensive conduct could not procure me in society. +I determined, in short, to fly the face of man. Well, such +a house as I wished, I, after some time, found; and to it I +immediately retired. It was situated in a remote part of +the country, in a romantic little glen, and several miles +distant, on all hands, from any other residence—just the +thing I wanted. Here at last, thought I, as I gazed on the +solitude around me, I will find that peace and quiet that +are so dear to me; here is no one to quarrel with me +because I do not choose to think as he does—none to disturb +me because I seek to disturb no one. Fatal error again!</p> + +<p>There was a small trouting stream at a short distance +from the house. I was fond of angling. I went to the +river with rod and line, threw in (it was the very next day +after I had taken possession of my new residence), and in +the next instant found myself seized by the cuff of the neck. +I had trespassed; and an immediate prosecution, notwithstanding +all the concession I could make, was the consequence. +The proprietor, at whose instance this proceeding +took place, was a brute—a tyrant. To all my overtures, +his only reply was, that he was determined to make an +example of me; and this he did, to the tune of about a +score of pounds. This occurrence, of course, put an immediate +stop to my fishing recreations; and, at the same time, +excited some suspicion in my mind as to the perfect felicity +which I was likely to enjoy in my retirement. Having +given up all thoughts of angling, I now took to walking, +and determined to make a general inspection of the country +in my neighbourhood; taking one direction one day, and +another the next, and so on, till I should have seen all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +around me to the extent of some miles—“And surely this,” +thought I to myself, “will give offence to nobody.” Well, +in pursuance of this resolution, I started on my first voyage +of discovery; but had not proceeded far, when a beautiful +shady avenue, with its gate flung invitingly open, tempted +me to diverge. I entered it, and was sauntering luxuriously +along, with my hat in my hand, enjoying the cool shade of +the lofty umbrageous trees by which it was skirted, and +admiring the beauties around me—for it was, indeed, a +most lovely place. I was, in short, in a kind of delightful +reverie, when all of a sudden I found myself again seized +by the cuff of the neck, by a ferocious-looking fellow with +a gun in his hand.</p> + +<p>“What do you want here, sir?” said the savage, looking +at me as if he would have torn me to pieces.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, my good fellow,” replied I, mildly. “I want +nothing. I came here merely to enjoy a walk in this +beautiful avenue.”</p> + +<p>“Then, you’ll pay for your walk, I warrant you. Curse +me, if you don’t! You have no right here, sir. Didn’t +you see the ticket at the entrance, forbidding all strangers +to come here?”</p> + +<p>I declared I did not; which was true.</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll teach you to look sharper next time. Your +name, sir?”</p> + +<p>I gave it; and, in three days after, was served with a +summons for another trespass, and was again severely +fined.</p> + +<p>“Strange land of liberty this!” thought I on this occasion—as, +indeed, I had done on some others before—“where +one dare not think as they please without making a host +of enemies, and where you can neither turn to the right or +the left without being taken by the neck.”</p> + +<p>I now, in short, found, gentlemen (said our melancholy +friend), that I had only exchanged one scene of troubles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +for another; and that even my remote and sequestered +situation was no protection to me whatever from annoyance +and persecution; and I therefore resolved to quit and return +once more to the town, to make another trial of the +justice of mankind; and in this resolution I was confirmed +by a letter which I shortly after this received from the +proprietor whose lands adjoined the small patch of ground +that was attached to the house I resided in.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” began this new correspondent, “you must be +aware that it is the business of the tenant of the house you +occupy to keep the drain which passes your garden in an +efficient state, throughout the length of its passage by your +ground. Now, sir, it is, at present, far from being in +such a condition; and the consequence is, that a large +portion of my land in your neighbourhood is laid under +water, to my serious loss. I therefore request that you +will instantly see to this, to prevent further trouble. I am, +sir,” &c.</p> + +<p>Well, gentlemen (continued our melancholy friend), to +prevent this further trouble, and to keep, if possible, on +goods terms with my neighbour, I went, immediately on +receipt of his letter, and examined the drain in question; +resolving, at the same time, to do what he requested, or +rather commanded, if it could be done at a reasonable cost, +although I conceived that it was a matter with which I +had nothing to do. It was an affair of my landlord’s altogether, +I thought, especially as nothing had been said to me +about the drain when I took the house—at least nothing +that I recollected. However, as I have said, I determined, +for peace’s sake, to repair it in the meantime, and to take +my landlord in my own hand for restitution. On looking +at the drain, I found it indeed in a very bad state, and +immediately sent for a person skilled in such matters to +give me an idea of what might be the cost of putting it in +a proper order; and was informed that it might be put in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +very good condition, in such a state as my neighbour could +not object to, for about fifty pounds. Now, gentlemen, +this was precisely equal to two years’ rent of my house, +and, I thought, rather too large a price to pay for the +good will of my neighbour; and I resisted, at the same +time referring him to my landlord. My landlord said he +had nothing to do with it, and that I must settle the affair +with Mr. T—— the best way I could. Well, I took advice +in the matter, for I thought it looked very like a conspiracy +against my simplicity and good nature; and was advised +by all means to resist. The result was, that my neighbour, +Mr. T——, immediately commenced a suit against me; +and, in my own defence, I was compelled to raise an action +of relief against my landlord; so that, when I returned to +town, I brought with me from my sweet, calm, peaceable +retirement, a couple of full blown law pleas of the most promising +dimensions. Who would have thought it—who would +have dreamt it—that, in this seclusion, this desert, as I may +call it, I should have got involved in such a world of troubles? +Well, gentlemen, what do you think was the result? +Why, both cases were given against me. In the one, I had to +pay costs—and in the other, to pay costs and repair the +drain too; and (added the melancholy gentleman with a +sigh) I am at this moment on my way to Edinburgh to pay +the last instalment of these ruinous and iniquitous claims.” +And, with this, the melancholy gentleman ended the sad +story of his sufferings.</p> + +<p>We all pitied him from our hearts, and each in his own +way offered him the condolence that his case demanded.</p> + +<p>He thanked us for the sympathy we expressed, and said +that he felt encouraged by it to ask our advice as to how +he should conduct himself in future, so as to obtain the +peace and quiet he so earnestly desired.</p> + +<p>“What would you recommend me to do, gentlemen—where +would you advise me to go,” he said, in an imploring +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +and despairing tone—nay, we thought half crying—“to +escape this merciless and unprovoked persecution?”</p> + +<p>We were all much affected by this piteous appeal, and +felt every desire to afford such counsel to our ill-used friend +as might be of service to him; but, while we did so, we +felt also the extreme difficulty of the case; for we did not +see by what possible line of conduct he could escape persecution, +if the very harmless and inoffensive one which +he had hitherto, of his own accord, adopted, had been found +ineffectual for his protection.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it was the very, nay, the only one, which, <em>a priori</em>, +we would have recommended to him; but, as he had clearly +shown us that it was an ineffectual one, we really felt +greatly at a loss what to say; and, under this difficulty, +we all remained for some time thoughtful and silent. At +length, however, it was agreed amongst us, as the case was +a poser, that we should sleep on the matter, and in the +morning come prepared with such advice as our intervening +cogitations should suggest.</p> + +<p>The melancholy gentleman again thanked us for the kind +interest we took in his unhappy case; adding, that he was +now so disheartened, so depressed in spirits, by the usage +he had met with, that he almost felt it an obligation to be +allowed to live.</p> + +<p>As it was now wearing late, and our landlord had just +come in to announce that supper was ready, and would be +served up when ordered, we agreed to rest satisfied for the +night with the extempore autobiographies, as I may call +them, of our two worthy companions—the little hunch-backed +personage in the bright yellow waistcoat, and the +melancholy gentleman; but we, at the same time, resolved +that we would resume the same mode of entertainment on +the following evening, and continue it till every one had +contributed his quota.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +<h2>GUILTY, OR NOT GUILTY.</h2> + + +<p>On the 15th of September, 17—, an unusual stir was +observable in our village. The people were gathered in +little groups in the streets, with earnest and awe-stricken +countenances; and even the little children had ceased +their play, and, clinging to their mothers, looked up as if +wondering what strange thing had happened. In some +parts of the town the crowds were larger, but the remarks +less audible; at times, two or three individuals were seen +passing along, in grave conversation, while the women +stood in groups at their own or their neighbour’s doors, +many of them with tears in their eyes, and giving utterance +occasionally to sounds of lamentation. It was evident, to +the most casual observer, that something unusual had occurred—something +that had stricken a feeling approaching +to alarm into all hearts—and that all were engaged in the +discussion of one common topic. There was that gathering +together, as if for mutual support, or for the purposes of +sympathy and consultation, which usually attends the appearance +of public danger, the extent of which is unknown. +It seemed, indeed, as if the occurrence of an earthquake, +however much it might have increased the alarm, could +not have deepened the gloom. The night at length gradually +thickened, and, one by one, the villagers crept into +their dwellings. Many a fearful tale was told by the firesides +that night; and not a door but was more carefully +barred than it had been perhaps for years before.</p> + +<p>Our village was like many other villages in Scotland; +it was long, dirty, and irregular, and wholly wanting in +those qualities of neatness and taste which give a character +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +of comfort and rustic beauty to the generality of English +hamlets. The odour that rose from the fronts of the cottages +was not from flowers, and was certainly much less +agreeable to the senses. The situation, however, was +romantic; and there was a character of rusticity about the +place which harmonised well with the surrounding scenery. +On one side it was skirted by a water, which, in rainy +seasons, struggled into some importance, and turned two or +three respectable mills. On the other, the country undulated +gracefully, and rose at one point into a wooded hill, +which formed no inconsiderable feature in the landscape. +Striking off the main road, at a point about half-a-mile +distant, was a rough by-road, which crossed near the summit +of the hill, and wound upwards till it disappeared in +a ridge of still loftier mountains. This road formed a favourite +walk with the young people of the village. It was +rough, and shaded, and retired, and led to many a green +spot and glorious upland. On very dark nights, however, +it was usually avoided. A considerable part of it was over-arched +with thick foliage; and however pleasant at noonday, +when the hot breezes came panting thither for relief, +it needed rather a stout heart to pass whistling through it, +when not even a gleam of starlight was visible, and when +every sound of the rustling branches came to the ear of the +listener, as a groan, a shriek, or a wailing.</p> + +<p>It was towards this road, on the morning succeeding the +ominous appearances we have described, that many of the +villagers directed their steps. A good number were hastening +thither soon after daybreak, and one and all seemed +bent on the same errand. They entered the road, now +chequered with the wakening glints of the sun, and proceeded +onwards till they came to a break in the rough +wall, which bounded it on either side. They here struck +off, and followed the windings of a narrow footpath, till +they reached an open place which looked into the fields +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +beyond. There was a bush of underwood a good deal +dashed and torn; and those who had a better eyesight, or +a more active fancy than the rest, declared they could +trace the sprinklings of blood upon the grass. On that +spot, not many hours before, a murder had been committed. +A young woman, one of the loveliest and liveliest of the +village, had been desperately and cruelly murdered.</p> + +<p>The affair was involved in mystery.</p> + +<p>Jessie Renton, the deceased, was the daughter of respectable +parents in the village, and a favourite with young and +old. She was warm-hearted and playful; and, pass her when +you might, she always greeted you with a kind glance or +a merry word. On the evening which closed on her for +ever, she had gone out alone, as she had done a thousand +times before, with a laughing eye and a light step. Her +father had not returned from his daily toil, and her mother +had not ceased from hers. The latter was busy at her wheel +when Jessie left, and not a parting word was exchanged +between them. They knew not that they were never to +see each other alive again in this world, and they parted +without thought or word. It was not known where the +unfortunate girl had gone. She had passed the doctor’s +shop while his apprentice boy was squirting water from a +syringe; and, joking, she had told him she would “tell his +maister o’ his tricks.” She had chatted with two girls who +were fetching water from the well, and hinted something +about an approaching wedding. An old man had seen her +at the outskirts of the village; and a cow-herd urchin +thought—but “wasna sure”—that he had seen her entering +the road leading through the wood; and that was all. Some +hours after she had been thus traced, a couple of strolling +pedlars had been making for the village, and were startled +by a shriek and a cry of murder in the thicket. They rushed +in; but had some difficulty in finding the spot whence the +cry proceeded. The figure of a man dashed by them at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +some yards distance. They hallooed to him; but he passed +on, and was out of sight in a moment. A few stifled cries +led them to the fatal spot, where they found the wretched +girl stretched upon the ground, faint from the loss of +blood, and unable to articulate. One of the men supported +her, while the other ran for help. The latter had scarcely +reached the main road, when he met some labourers plodding +homewards, and with them he returned to the dying +girl; but what assistance could they render? Life was fast +ebbing away; and, in a few moments afterwards, they +bent in dumb horror and amazement, over a mangled corpse. +After some consultation, they carried the body towards the +village; and one of them hastened before and procured a +vehicle to relieve them of their burthen. The news of +what had occurred spread in all directions; and, by the +time the mournful procession entered the village, the inhabitants +were all astir. The body was soon recognised; +tears and wailings followed; and dark suspicions and dismal +regrets mingled with the hurried inquiries of every +new comer.</p> + +<p>Old James Renton and his wife, as decent a couple as +lived in the village, were seated by the fire, enjoying their +quiet evening chat, when the awful intelligence reached +them. Some considered it strange that they had been +talking but a few minutes before of their daughter, and +her prospects. But it was not strange: they had no other +child: they had had no other theme so interesting. It +was not a new thing with them. For themselves they had +but little to hope, but little to dream over: their own +ambition had long since died out, but it revived in their +child. She was a link which bound them anew to this +world, and seemed to open up to them, once more, bright +prospects on this side of the grave. Often and often had +they conversed upon her hopes, as they had aforetime +done of their own; and with an interest only heightened +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +from having become less selfish. Was it remarkable that +they should do so on that evening? Jessie was growing +to a most interesting age. She had arrived at that point +in life from which many roads diverge, and where the +path is often difficult to choose. For her sake, more than +one homely hind had become a poet in his feelings. Indeed, +she had many admirers, and was even what some +might call a flirt. But, although her smiles were shed +like the free and glad sunshine on all, there was one who, +to appearance, was more favoured than the rest. This +young man had known her from her childhood, and his +attachment was of the most ardent kind. At school, he +had been her champion, and certainly showed himself a +true knight—ready to encounter, nay, courting danger for +her sake, and conceiving himself sufficiently rewarded by +her smile. She had recently been solicited in marriage +by another, a man of retired and somewhat gloomy habits, +who dwelt near; but it was understood that she had refused +his offer, and that George Merrideth was the chosen +one of her heart.</p> + +<p>It was on these things that the unconscious parents were +conversing, when one of their neighbours entered with the +frightful intelligence. Both started up and rushed to the +door. The crowd were hastening on, bearing with them +the melancholy evidence of the truth of what they had +just heard. It came on still—it stopt—it was at their own +door it stopt. The old man could not speak, but his +wife rushed forward with a distressful shriek. The truth +was soon all known. They had no child. They had only +a dead body to weep over—to lay in the grave. Is it +necessary to say more? A few days passed. They were +the bitterest days the bereaved parents had ever known; +but they passed, and their minds became comparatively +calm. Neither the efforts of their own minds, nor the +commiseration of their friends and neighbours, could subdue +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +their grief: but it took free vent, and subsided from +very exhaustion. They evinced but little anxiety to discover +who had destroyed their child: it was enough to +them that she was gone; and revenge, they said, would not +bring her back. Their chief solace was to visit and linger +in the church-yard—their chief hope to abide there.</p> + +<p>To discover the murderer, and drag him to justice, soon +occupied the attention, not only of the authorities, but of +many active men in the village. Rigorous inquiries were +instituted, every scrap of evidence was collected, and suspicion +fell at length upon one man. This individual was, +to appearance, about thirty years of age, of a thoughtful +disposition, and retired mode of life. He had been settled +in the village for several years; and no sooner was the +suspicion raised, than many circumstances were bruited +to confirm it. His general conduct and bearing were +remarked to have been mysterious. He had rarely associated +with his neighbours; and had often been observed, +in lonely places and at silent hours, muttering and musing, +by himself. For some time back, he had been noticed +watching the deceased, and following her whenever she +had any distance to go; and the general belief was, that +she had crossed his affections, and that he had taken this +cowardly revenge. On the evening of the murder, he had +been seen returning home only a few minutes after the +time when the deed must have been perpetrated, and his +air and manner were said to have been wild and agitated. +The consequence was, that he was apprehended and thrown +into prison. In a few months afterwards, he was tried. +In his defence, he stated that the unfortunate girl had +rather encouraged his suit than otherwise; and mentioned, +in proof of this, that Merrideth, whose grief for her loss +had excited general commiseration, had on the very afternoon +of the day on which the murder took place, quarrelled +him on the subject, and accused him of seeking him to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +supplant him in her affections. Ultimately, a verdict of not +proven was returned, and he was dismissed from the court.</p> + +<p>Jones—for such was his name—returned to the village; +but the suspicion still clung to him. As he went through +the streets, the people avoided him, or gazed at him as a +world’s wonder. Wherever he passed, they spoke to each +other in whispers. These whispers he seldom heard, but +the thought of their import haunted him. He was restless +and unhappy, and sought relief in motion. No sooner was +the sun risen, than he was up and away to the fields. He +wandered about alone for hours, and then came back to +the village. He felt as if a curse rested on him; a stain +on his name, which he could not wipe off. So unhappy +did he seem, that some men began to take compassion on +him, and even to converse with him. He felt grateful; the +tears rushed to his eyes; and they left him with their suspicions +confirmed. Night came, and he felt that he could +not sleep. He sometimes tried to read, but in vain: and +would suddenly dash down the book and hurry into the +street.</p> + +<p>In one of his rambles, an incident occurred, which, although +trifling in itself, may yet be related as showing the +kind of feeling with which he was regarded. Miss Manners, +the daughter of the village clergyman, accompanied by +another young lady, was coming along in a direction in +which they could not avoid meeting him. Jones observed +the latter hesitate, on beholding him, and apparently +refuse to go on, till encouraged by her companion. They +met, however, and passed each other; but Jones had not +proceeded many yards, when he observed a silk bag which +one of them had dropped. He picked it up and hastened +after them. The young lady, on hearing his footsteps, +glanced round and screamed outright. Jones paused. +When the affrighted damsel had somewhat recovered herself, +he said in a soft voice—</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +“Young lady! I am sorry if my politeness has alarmed +you. I thought this might be your bag, which I found +lying on the road.”</p> + +<p>Miss Manners stepped towards him, and received it, saying—“Thank +you, sir. My companion is foolish.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot blame her,” he replied, “for she does not +know me. I have rather to thank you, than wonder at +her.”</p> + +<p>His voice was rather tremulous as he spoke; and Miss +Manners regarded him with a look of the tenderest compassion. +Nothing more, however, was said. They simply +bowed to each other and parted. Jones walked on for a +short distance, then, leaning over a rustic gate by the roadside, +mused till his eyes filled.</p> + +<p>The violent emotion exhibited by the unhappy man was +not allowed to pass unnoticed by the villagers. It was +looked upon only as the writhing of a tortured spirit; and +whatever doubts existed as to his guilt, they were soon +all removed. There was hardly a soul in the village but +shunned and feared him.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Jones would drop into one or two shops +where he had been accustomed to visit, and talk freely on +matters of common interest. But those who formerly saw +nothing odd in his manner, now discovered a thousand +peculiarities. They imagined they detected an unnatural +wildness in his eye, and set him down as a deep and dangerous +man. At one time the villagers would stand gazing +after him, at others they would pass him with a scowl. +Little children, whom he used sometimes to pat on the +head were taught to fear and avoid him; and often, when +he approached, would run away screaming to their homes.</p> + +<p>The unhappy man, at length, resolved to leave the place. +He pursued his journey to Edinburgh, and took lodgings +in a street in the Old Town. The reflection, however, that +he had not succeeded in vindicating his character—that he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +had left behind him a blasted reputation—poisoned all his +enjoyments. He walked backward and forward in Princes +Street, crossed the North Bridge, and wandered about the +Canongate and High Street, and tried to lose himself in +the crowd. Again he returned to his lodging, and felt that +his loneliness and misery were increased.</p> + +<p>He next set off for Glasgow, and pursued there the same +course. He traversed the Trongate and Argyle Street for +hours, and strode down to the Broomielaw, and stared +vacantly at the bustle going on on the river. But in nothing +could he take any interest. Change of scene could +bring no change to his mind. Weeks and months were +spent in this rambling and unsatisfactory life, and again +he resolved to retrace his steps to the village.</p> + +<p>The coach in which he took his seat set him down +within about a mile and a half of the place; and he finished +the journey on foot. It was on a Saturday afternoon that +he entered, and with feelings which can hardly be described. +Many of the villagers were sitting at their doors, enjoying +the cool air of the evening, when the mysterious man +walked up the main street. His appearance attracted +general attention. One rumour had stated that he had +fled to America; another, that he had taken away his own +life. At all events, the people had congratulated themselves +on his sudden departure; and felt irritated, as well +as surprised, at his return. As he walked quietly along, +he was followed by a number of boys, some of whom threw +pieces of turf at him; and, by the time he reached the +centre of the town a considerable crowd was collected. A +disposition to riot was soon exhibited, and stones began to +be thrown. Jones turned coolly round and folded his +arms, as if in defiance of his persecutors. At that moment, +a stone of a pretty large size struck him on the forehead, +and some blood trickled from the wound. He was a man +of a quick eye and muscular frame. He singled out the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +person who threw it, and dashed through the crowd—never +once losing sight of him until he had him firmly in his +grasp. A struggle ensued, and Jones threw his opponent +with great force on the ground. Loud threats, and angry +imprecations followed; and “Villain!—Murderer!” burst +from a hundred tongues. Ten or a dozen men sprang forward +upon him at once; but he started back and eluded +their grasp.</p> + +<p>“Stand back!” he cried in a loud voice. “I shall +strike the first man to the earth who dares to lay a finger +on me!”</p> + +<p>For a moment his pursuers were awed; but only for a +moment. Two or three hands were in an instant at his +throat, and a violent struggle and altercation ensued.</p> + +<p>“Villain!—villain!” cried one man, older than the rest, +“ye hae killed ane o’ the sweetest bairns that ever drew +breath. It was an evil hour when ye took up your abode +in this village!”</p> + +<p>“Hold off, old man!” exclaimed Jones; “why do you +persecute me so?”</p> + +<p>Groans and yells followed.</p> + +<p>“I swear before God,” he continued, shaking himself +free, “that I am innocent of this crime!”</p> + +<p>The crowd, however, were not to be deterred from giving +vent to their rage; and matters might have proceeded +to an alarming height, had not Mr. Manners, the parish +minister, who chanced to be passing at the time, interfered +in his behalf. The old man pushed his way through the +crowd, and taking Jones by the arm, succeeded in dragging +him away. They proceeded in the direction of the manse; +but, as the mob still followed, Mr. Manners did not think +it safe to leave him. He accordingly took him in along +with him; and, closing the garden gate, exhorted the +crowd to return peaceably to their homes.</p> + +<p>For a few moments, some shouting and noise were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +heard; but they died away by degrees, and Jones and his +protector stood alone in the quiet and secluded garden. +The former grasped Mr. Manners by the hand, and thanked +him cordially.</p> + +<p>“Sir,” he said, “I have been sorely abused. An unhappy +suspicion has clung to my name; but innocent I +declare I am, although suffering the worst consequences of +guilt. All men have some sins to weep for; but, as I +shall answer to my Maker, I swear that I am as innocent +of the great crime laid to my charge as the unborn child is.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Manners was a kind-hearted man. He was struck +with the earnestness—the quiet and subdued fervour with +which Jones addressed him—and, taking him kindly by +the hand—</p> + +<p>“Young man,” he said, “I am bound to believe what I +cannot disprove, and what you so solemnly affirm. If +there be no truth in your words, you may yet repent having +so solemnly sworn; but whether true or false, I can +never repent doing you an act of kindness.”</p> + +<p>Jones was invited into the house to rest—an invitation +which he gladly accepted. On entering the lobby, they +were met by Miss Manners, who started involuntarily on +beholding the stranger; but instantly recovered herself, +and opened the door of the parlour for him to enter. The +latter bowed politely to her; and, blushing, she returned +the salutation. Her father desired her to walk in and set +some wine upon the table, which she did with alacrity and +grace.</p> + +<p>Miss Manners was a young lady of rather an eccentric +disposition. She was high-minded, and high-spirited, and +not without a dash of romance. She was, of course, +familiar with the story of the murder, and knew Jones well +by sight. His appearance, which others regarded as at +least mysterious-looking, seemed, in her eyes, rather prepossessing +than otherwise; and when she heard the old +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +women in the village imprecating curses on his head, she +had uniformly reproved them for judging without adequate +proof. On the present occasion, there was something in +Jones’ looks and manner peculiarly calculated to confirm +her good impression, and engage her sympathy. His collar +was loosened, and his dress a good deal dashed by the rough +treatment he had experienced; but the expression of his +countenance seemed to plead for compassion, and spoke +eloquently to her heart. She addressed him in a kindly +tone of voice; inquired what was the matter, and hoped +that no accident had occurred. The stranger put his hand +to his brow, from which the blood had been previously +wiped, and turned towards the window; while her father +briefly explained the circumstances of their meeting, of +the harsh treatment to which Jones had been subjected, +and of his own interference.</p> + +<p>“You did well father!” said the girl; “the people may +be mistaken!”</p> + +<p>“They <em>are</em> mistaken!” said Jones, turning round with +moist eyes. “I know not why suspicion should have +settled upon me. I led a quiet life in the village, harming +no one, offending no one; neither had I exhibited any of +those vices in which great crimes usually originate. I was +not cruel, revengeful, or choleric: least of all had I shown +unkindness to her whom they accuse me of having murdered. +Lady, I cannot expect that you will believe the +word of an accused, I may almost say a condemned, man; +but I shall live in hope that something may yet arise to +convince you that I am innocent!”</p> + +<p>A reply rushed to her lips, but she checked it, and +pressed the stranger to take some refreshment.</p> + +<p>Mr. Manners expressed a hope that the people would +not annoy him farther; and his daughter ventured to +question him as to his returning to a place where he was +exposed to such insult and persecution.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +“Madam,” he replied, “where else could I be happy, +with such a stigma on my character? A man’s evil deeds +are always more widely trumpeted than his good ones; +and go where I would, I know that the slander would follow +me. I have taken a solemn vow, never again to leave +this place till I can do so with an unsullied character. The +feeling that makes a man eager to trace a calumny to its +source, and exculpate himself in the eyes of the world, +deters me from flying from reproach. No! I will meet my +accusers boldly. I have done nothing to cause me to +leave the place; and what others may say or do, will not +drive me from it.”</p> + +<p>Both Mr. Manners and his daughter pressed him to stay +to supper, but he declined. He expressed, as well as words +could express, how grateful he felt for their kindness, and +was about to depart, when the old gentleman laid one +hand on his shoulder, and, grasping his hand frankly with +the other, said—</p> + +<p>“Till it has been proved that you are undeserving of +my hospitality, my door shall always be open to you; and +the more readily, that others are closed!”</p> + +<p>Jones was a good deal affected, but struggled to conceal +his emotion.</p> + +<p>“No,” he articulated, with a slightly faltering voice, but +a steady eye, “I will not trouble you with a friendship +which might bring odium on you. I need not say how +delightful it would be to me; but”——</p> + +<p>“My father,” interrupted Miss Manners, “can easily +bear a little burden to lighten another’s great one. Can +you not, father?”</p> + +<p>“My good child,” he replied, “you know me, and can +speak for me. Sir,” he added, “my good wishes and +prayers attend you.”</p> + +<p>Jones took his leave, with many expressions of gratitude, +when Mr. Manners came running after him, with his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +hat on, to see whether the crowd had wholly dispersed, +and resolved to accompany him if necessary. On reaching +the road, however, it was discovered that everything was +perfectly quiet; and the good man, having escorted him +only a short distance on his way, left him to his reflections.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to describe the train of thought +which passed through Jones’ mind, as he directed his +steps towards the centre of the village. Buoyant feelings +and hopes, such as he had not experienced for years before, +suddenly filled his breast: glimmerings of bright +thought flashed on his mind; were speedily checked, and +again burst forth. Some of the people were lounging +about their doors as he passed; but he heeded not—he +cared not. He felt happy. Visions of mild grey eyes +and chesnut ringlets engrossed his senses. They were +Miss Manners’. A low but sweet voice filled his ears. +It was hers. His memory recalled certain kindly expressions; +and it was her lips that had uttered them. On +arriving at his lodging, he thought the way had been +short; he entered, and was welcomed by his old landlady, +with whom he had lived for years, and who was one of the +few who would listen to nothing to his discredit.</p> + +<p>That night, Jones sat up long, and thought much. The +window of his room looked down upon the glen, the +stream, the corn-mill, and across to the high and wooded +banks, and upwards to where, on this particular night, the +full round moon climbed, and threw a glittering bar of +light upon the water; and never, to the eye of our lonely +muser, looked so lonely, or shone upon so fair a scene. If, +at that moment, he harboured an evil thought or an angry +feeling, it soon melted in the rising tide of holier emotions. +The quiet and softness of the night became, for the time, +a portion of his own being; and the pale light, resting on +his features, communicated to them much of its gentleness +and beauty. For several hours he continued in deep +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +reverie. At length he began to feel chilly, as the thin +watery light, which precedes the dawn, made its appearance; +and he reluctantly withdrew to rest; but only to +dream over the images of beauty with which his mind was +surcharged.</p> + +<p>Next morning broke forth—a benign and balmy Sabbath. +He was the earliest at church, and lingered the latest in +the church-yard. The subject of Mr. Manners’ discourse +was charity; but when the people came out, they passed +by Jones with a scowl, and went on their several ways, +talking mysteriously together. Jones, however, had again +seen Miss Manners. It is uncertain whether or not he +threw himself in her way; but, whether from design or +accident, their eyes met. She bowed gracefully to him; +but he was not prepared for this public recognition. For +the moment he felt confused, his heart fluttered, and he +passed on with two or three hurried steps. This incident, +trifling as it was, deprived him of a whole night’s sleep. +He feared he had betrayed some awkwardness on the +occasion; and yet, somehow or other, he had no fear of +obtaining her forgiveness. Often and often he walked in +the neighbourhood of the manse, avoiding being seen by +her, but still seeing her; or, if not, indulging the delight +of being near her. He had no heart to walk in any other +direction. If he strolled out in the morning, or in the +quiet of the evening, he proceeded almost instinctively towards +the manse; and if he passed any distance beyond it, +an irresistible impulse caused him to retrace his steps.</p> + +<p>These lonely walks, often at unseasonable hours, and +without any apparent object, were not unobserved by the +villagers, and gave rise to much speculation. Many weeks +passed, and still the mystery continued; and Jones found, +ere long, that he was regarded not only with suspicion, but +terror. All the petty crimes, too, which occurred in the +neighbourhood, were set down to his charge; and time, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +which he thought would clear his name, seemed only to +blacken it the more. Every means, too, were taken to +persecute him, and drive him from the place; but absence +to him was now despair. He was chained to the spot by +an uncontrollable destiny; and felt that, although pressed +to the uttermost, he was yet wholly incapable of retreat.</p> + +<p>Jones was proprietor of a small property in the village, +which had been left him by an uncle, and which first induced +him to take up his residence in that quarter; he +had also a small sum of money laid out at interest; and, +both together, had hitherto yielded him a sufficient competency.</p> + +<p>One by one, however, the houses on which he chiefly +relied became tenantless, and nothing seemed to await him +but poverty and wretchedness.</p> + +<p>But then Miss Manners! Like a star in the heavens, +she became brighter as his prospects darkened; and yet he +feared that, like a star, he could only admire her at a distance. +He had told his love to the listening winds; he +had whispered it to his pillow; he had mingled his plaint +with that of the running brooks. But, to human ear, he +had breathed it neither in sighs nor words. Him, a wanderer +and an outcast, what maid could ever love? Could +he have asked Miss Manners to share happiness with him, +the case might have been otherwise; but what must be his +fate when he had only wretchedness to offer? He thought +of her till she became purely a being of his imagination; +and, being all that his imagination could paint her, she +became too much for him to hope ever to possess.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to say what, at this early stage of their +acquaintance, were Miss Manners’ feelings towards Jones. +Certain it is, however, that she had conceived for him a +kind of romantic interest. She was eccentric in her disposition, +but fervent in her attachments; and, without knowing +much about him, she had, partly from compassion and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +partly, perhaps, from a secret love of being regarded singular, +uniformly advocated his cause whenever occasion offered.</p> + +<p>One evening, two or three young girls were assembled +at the manse. They were the daughters of a person of some +consideration in the place, and Miss Manners’ occasional +associates. After tea, Mr. Manners withdrew to his studies; +and, as the evening had set in rather cold, the ladies drew +near the fire to converse.</p> + +<p>“Come, now,” said Miss Manners, as she stirred the fire +till it blazed and crackled right merrily, “let us make ourselves +comfortable and happy. Emily, here”—sitting down +beside the dullest of her guests—“looks as sad as if she +had just lost her sweetheart.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll be thinking of Willie Green!” said another +of the girls.</p> + +<p>A third giggled. Emily looked sad; and Miss Manners +cheered her by remarking that Willie was a very decent +fellow.</p> + +<p>“He’s no sweetheart of mine,” said Emily, indifferently, +at the same time glancing up to the ceiling.</p> + +<p>An enormous “Good gracious!” or some such expression, +rushed to the eyes of another of the girls; but, as Miss +Manners had checked her, she did not get telling how often +she had seen her and Willie together, and how well known +it was that the day was all but fixed.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t tease her,” said Miss Manners. “I see we +must change the subject.”</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Willie Green was dismissed, and William +Jones introduced. Every one, except Miss Manners, had +something to say against him—some frightful story to relate +in which he had acted a principal part. One told how, on +one evening—darker than all other evenings—he had been +seen lounging in the neighbourhood of such and such a +farm; and how, next morning, one of the farmer’s children +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +died. Another related how he had been heard to rave +to himself when he thought no one was near; and many +were the extraordinary casualties in which he was declared +to have been concerned.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! idle tales,” said Miss Manners, who had sat for +some time silent. “I have seen the man, and do not +think him one-half so bad as he is represented. Never +yet have I met any one who had seen him do a wrong +action; and yet every one will swell the cry against him. +O world! world!”</p> + +<p>The young ladies were somewhat surprised at the serious +tone in which Miss Manners spoke, but laughed it off, +without attempting to argue the matter. How little did +they know—how little did Miss Manners know—that, at +that very time, the man they spoke of was wandering in +the darkness, not far off, with his eyes fixed on the lighted +window of the room in which they sat! And, O, what +feelings would have filled the breast of poor Jones, if he +had known that the light on which he gazed so intently +was rendered still brighter by those eyes which he loved +best in the world being kindled in his defence.</p> + +<p>However, the conversation soon took a lighter turn; and +was only interrupted, at length, by the appearance of Willie +Green, who was ushered in “by accident,” and seemed +very desirous to impress upon all present that he had no +particular errand. Sly looks were interchanged, which no +one, of course, saw; and Willie was speedily inducted as +one of the party. Supper followed, at which Mr. Manners +was present; and, when the hour of departure came, Miss +Manners threw on her bonnet, to trot them, as she expressed +it, to the garden gate.</p> + +<p>On going down the walk, Mr. Green, who was the pink +of politeness, offered Miss Manners his arm; but the latter +knew she would not offend him by refusing. One by one, +he applied to the other girls; till, as a last resource, he +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +made an appeal to Emily, who, after some feeble show of +following their example, relented; and, while Miss Manners +and the rest proceeded onwards, Green and Emily lagged +gradually behind. Miss Manners escorted the party a considerable +distance on their way, and then bade them good +night. Mr. Green offered to accompany her back; but she +broke off, saying she was not afraid. The night was rather +dark; but, in truth, it was not late; and she tripped on +her way homewards without fear of molestation.</p> + +<p>As she approached the garden, however, she saw the +figure of a man walking on before her, with that slow and +apparently lounging step which indicates the absence of +any pressing or definite object. It was Jones. Her heart +failed her for a moment; but, instantly recovering herself, +she proceeded on her way, and passed him. It was dark. +There was no one else near. A rush of frightful thoughts +came upon her mind; her step faltered; and she felt as if +about to faint.</p> + +<p>This was a moment, with Jones, of intense—of overwhelming +emotion. He had heard her light step behind +him, but knew not that it was hers. No sooner, however, +had her graceful form caught his eye, than a strange +wildness of thought and feeling seized him, approaching +almost to delirium. She was alone. He had long wished +for such an opportunity to declare his passion; and yet, +now that it had arrived, he trembled to embrace it. To +allow it to pass was, in all probability, to entail upon himself +many more weeks or months of racking anxiety, uncertainty, +and suspense; and yet to embrace it was, perhaps, +to set the last seal to his despair. On such a subject +he could have debated for weeks; but now, the least hesitation, +and the opportunity was lost.</p> + +<p>While these contending thoughts distracted his mind, +Miss Manners started, and almost paused, as if seized with +a sudden panic. This fixed his resolution.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +“Dear lady!” he said, in a bland and tremulous voice, +“you seem frightened. I trust it is not of me you are +afraid. Believe me, you are near one who would protect, +not harm you.”</p> + +<p>“Who are you?” she inquired, faintly.</p> + +<p>“Who am I?” he replied. “In truth, I can hardly +tell you who I am. I am one, madam, lost both to himself +and the world—an outcast—a wanderer in solitary +places—a madman—a dreamer! O, sweet lady!—but I +am wrong to speak thus.”</p> + +<p>“I know you now,” she said, gaining courage; “your +name is Jones, is it not?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, madam,” he answered, “that is my unfortunate +name; but, if the world knew all—or if you knew all, I +would not care for the world.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” she said, but with some hesitation, as if in +doubt whether it was proper to stay.</p> + +<p>“I will, if you’ll forgive me,” he said; “but my story is, +perhaps, long. Will you walk on?”</p> + +<p>Miss Manners proceeded slowly along, with Jones at her +side.</p> + +<p>“I have now,” resumed the latter, “resided for nearly +six years in this village. In my intercourse with the +world I had been unfortunate, and retirement was what I +sought. I found it here; and, between the study of books +and nature, I felt myself happy, and associated but little +with my neighbours. I do not weary you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Miss Manners; “go on.”</p> + +<p>“At length,” he continued, “I began to feel that marriage +would be an addition to my happiness; and, accordingly, +I cast my eyes round among the fair maidens of the +village. They fell upon the unfortunate Jessie Renton. +She lived within a few doors of me, and I had often seen +and admired her in my walks. I thought I loved her—for, +at that time, I had not learned what true love was—and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +offered to make her my wife. I dealt candidly and +openly with her. In education, I need not say that I knew +she was much beneath me; but she seemed warm-hearted +and docile, and I thought it would be a loving pastime for +me to make her my pupil. I was not ignorant, however, +that she had other lovers; and, although she certainly encouraged +my addresses, I saw reason to discontinue my +suit. About this time, the awful event took place, the +particulars of which are already known to you; and, simply +because I had been abroad on the evening of the murder, +and near the fatal spot, and partly, no doubt, from the +circumstance of my attachment, which I had taken no pains +to conceal, suspicion fastened upon me. I will not—indeed +I cannot—tell you what laceration of feeling—what distraction +of mind—I have since suffered. But you—you, +O lady! is it wonderful that I should love you?—you who, +when all the world was against me, spoke kindly to me?—you——forgive +me, but I love—I adore you; day and +night you have been my dream—my idol! But I rave; +and yet, do not think me quite mad; for I know I am +partly so, and madness knows not itself. O lady!—pardon +me! but my heart will not let my tongue speak, lest it +should wrong it—could my <em>heart</em> speak, could”——</p> + +<p>“Sir—sir!” interrupted Miss Manners; “this is frenzy! +I beg, sir, you will desist. So sudden—so”——</p> + +<p>“Sudden!” exclaimed Jones. “My love may have +been sudden; but, for weeks, for months, it has taken +possession of me. But, pardon me, madam,” he added, in a +calmer tone. “Do not mistake me. I know too well that +I dare not hope; but an humble offering may be laid upon a +lofty shrine. All I ask is your compassion; say only you pity +me, and I shall embalm the words in my memory for ever!”</p> + +<p>Miss Manners <em>did</em> pity him; but begged him, as he +valued his own happiness, to banish from his mind all such +thoughts as he had expressed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +“Ah, madam,” said he, “ask me to part with life, and +I may obey you; but, while life remains, I never can cease +to love you.”</p> + +<p>They had now reached the entrance to the garden; and +Miss Manners held out her hand, saying—</p> + +<p>“Good night.”</p> + +<p>Jones took the hand. There was no glove on it; and, +gently raising it, he pressed it to his lips.</p> + +<p>“Madam,” he articulated, “good night; farewell. While +you are asleep, I shall be thinking of you. On this road, +gazing on the window of the room in which I think you +are, I shall enjoy more rest than anywhere else I can go.”</p> + +<p>He was about to add something more; but his utterance +became choked; and, again pressing her hand to his lips, +while a tear fell on it, he turned abruptly away. Miss +Manners said not a word—her heart was too full—but +closed the gate behind her and disappeared. Jones listened. +He heard her step as she went up the gravel walk, and he +heard nothing more. The night was, by this time, fearfully +dark, and everything around him was silent. He walked +on a short distance, returned, and again walked on. His +mind was whirling and confused. He tried to recollect +every word which Miss Manners had said, and by this +means to get at the real state of her feelings; but he was +too much agitated for reflection. On gaining his lodging, +he felt faint, and put himself immediately to bed. All +night long he tossed about in sleepless excitement; and, in +the morning, fell into a feverish doze, broken by unintelligible +dreams. When he awoke, he rose up, and felt so +giddy as to be unable to stand, and again went to bed. +During the day, he felt shivering and unwell; and, the +next day, the same symptoms continued, and with increased +violence. Another day arrived—another, and another—and +all consciousness left him. Several weeks elapsed, +and found him still bedridden, but convalescent; and it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +was nearly three months before he was enabled to venture +out, and then only when the sun was warm.</p> + +<p>“You have been long out, Marion,” said Mr. Manners +to his daughter, as she returned from her accidental interview +with Jones. “I was afraid some accident had befallen +you.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Miss Manners, whose eyes were slightly inflamed; +for, somehow or other, she had wept before entering +the house: “no accident.”</p> + +<p>“Child,” said her father, “what has happened—you +look ill!”</p> + +<p>Miss Manners told all—her meeting with Jones, and his +passionate declaration; but, notwithstanding that her +father conjured her not to think of him, she thought of +him all night long.</p> + +<p>The news of Jones’ illness spread rapidly through the +village; but, as might be expected, excited little sympathy. +With the exception of Mr. Manners and the surgeon of the +village, no one looked near his abode; and many were the +remarks made by the gossips, that few tears would be shed +for him, and that he might bless heaven he was allowed to +die in bed. From the manse, however, he received much +attention. Anxious inquiries concerning the state of his +health were made almost daily, accompanied, occasionally, +with presents of wine and jellies. This afforded Jones +delightful materials for reflection; and, while his health +continued to improve, he occupied his mind with dreams +of the future, which his better judgment told him were too +bright ever to be realised.</p> + +<p>It was on a mild spring morning that the poor invalid +sallied forth, for the first time, since his illness. He was +still rather pale and feeble; but the air was warm for the +season, and he felt happy on being released from his confinement. +His appearance, as he walked through the village, +brought the people to their doors as before; and the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +old remarks about “the man that was tried for murder,” +were made from mouth to mouth. Nevertheless, he was +allowed to pass unmolested, and was soon clear of the +houses. The effect of natural scenery, and more particularly, +perhaps, of the weather, on the animal spirits, has +often been remarked, and the pleasing train of thought +which now passed through the mind of our hero, might +partly have arisen from this cause. The sun was unshaded, +and the road warm and dry. On either side, the leaves +were budding from the hedges, and the cheerful warbling +of birds infused a delicious and summer-like feeling into +his heart. He had gone out without any precise object, +and merely to enjoy a walk in the fresh air—so delightful +after long confinement to a sick chamber; but his steps +had led him almost involuntarily in the direction of the +manse. On reaching the gate, he stopped, loitered on for +a few yards, and again stopped. He then turned back and +hesitated, and at last made bold to enter. As he wound +his way slowly up the walk, which was neatly laid off on +either side with flowers and shrubbery, he felt more collected +than, under the circumstances, he could have +imagined possible; and, in a few moments, he was seated +in the neat drawing-room of the manse, pouring out his +gratitude to Miss Manners for the kindness and attention +he had experienced during his illness.</p> + +<p>While the two sat conversing together, Mr. Manners +entered. He congratulated Jones on his recovery; but +the latter did not fail to observe that his manner towards +him was less frank than formerly. The truth is, that +the old man was a good deal alarmed for his daughter, +whom he had warned to discourage his addresses; and, +although desirous to treat him with kindness, endeavoured +to avoid everything which might seem an approval of +his suit. Jones had the good sense not to prolong his +visit; and, after cordially repeating his thanks for the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +various acts of kindness he had experienced, rose up and +took his leave.</p> + +<p>To her poor lover, Miss Manners had never appeared +so lovely as on this occasion. He left the house with the +intention of never beholding her more; but scarcely had +he quitted her presence, than he felt that to remain long +away were impossible. Her beauty; her goodness; her +kind words; her kinder looks; all—all rushed to his +mind; and his feelings, which had been somewhat calmed +by his illness, acquired even more than their wonted fire. +Day after day, as he continued to gather strength, he revisited +all his old haunts, and felt as if he had just returned +from a sojourn in a distant land. Everything was new +and fresh; but, with every scene, old feelings were associated. +To him Miss Manners was still the presiding +genius of the place, from whom it derived all its beauty, +and to whom the worship of his heart was involuntarily +offered.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Miss Manners had received strict injunctions +from her father not to receive his visits except when he +himself was at home. To this course he had been urged, +not so much by his own feelings towards him, as by the +advice of his friends. Indeed, Jones was rather a favourite +with him. He would willingly have done much to serve +him; and yet, when the happiness of his daughter was at +stake, he often reflected on the awful consequences which +might ensue, if he were really the guilty wretch whom so +many suspected he was.</p> + +<p>About this time a circumstance occurred, which put an +end to his doubts.</p> + +<p>Among those who mourned the unhappy fate of the +poor village maiden, the grief of her lover, George Merrideth, +had been observed to be the wildest. For some +days, he had wandered about like one demented; and all +who witnessed, respected and commiserated his anguish. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +Latterly, however, he had disappeared entirely from the +public view; and it was hinted by some, that his mind +had been seriously affected by the occurrence. One morning, +Mr. Manners was suddenly sent for to attend at his +deathbed. When he entered, the patient had fallen into +a kind of dozing sleep; and he was motioned to a seat +near the bed. The light was almost entirely excluded +from the chamber; and the only other person present was +the mother of the dying lad, who was a widow. She was +wasted with grief and watching, and seemed just such a +figure as a painter would have chosen to heighten the +melancholy of such a scene. As she came round and +whispered some scarcely articulate words into the clergyman’s +ear, her son murmured in his sleep, became restless, +and woke as in terror. Mr. Manners spoke to him +in soothing words, and referred to a state of happiness +hereafter.</p> + +<p>“Aha!” cried he, “can I enter heaven with my hand +bloody? Her spirit is sainted. I could not go near it. +Oh no—no—never—never.”</p> + +<p>“Of what is it he speaks?” inquired Mr. Manners.</p> + +<p>“Oh, sir!” answered his mother, “his thoughts are +wandering. I canna think he killed the lassie he loved.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, mother,” said the youth, with an effort, “this +hand did it. O fool!—cut it off—off with it—it is not +my hand—my hand never would have done it. Oh—oh—mother—Jessie.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Manners was dumb with amazement. It was but +too evident from whence the agony of the youth flowed, +and he sat regarding him with looks of awe and terror.</p> + +<p>“It grows dark,” continued the patient; “but, softly. +You know I loved you when you were a child; but now +you love another!—ay, that’s it—you will not be mine! +It grows still darker!—ha, ha, ha!—fly—fly!—it is done! +O God! if I could draw back!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +The dying man waxed wilder in his ravings. After a +time, however, he became comparatively calm; and, on +Mr. Manners addressing him, recognised his voice.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that voice!” he said. “I have often heard it. I +have not attended to its counsel; but if it could console—oh, +no, I cannot be consoled. Your hand, sir!—forgive—forgive.”</p> + +<p>“Do not ask forgiveness of me,” said Mr. Manners. +“May God in his mercy pardon you!”</p> + +<p>The wretched youth muttered a kind of incoherent +prayer, while his mother dropped on her knees by the +bed-side. All afterwards was wildness and despair, only +relieved by intervals of exhaustion. Mr. Manners continued +to administer such consolation as the circumstances +of the case admitted of, and did not leave the house till +the voice of the guilty man had become hushed in death, +and nothing broke the silence but the moanings of the +afflicted mother.</p> + +<p>Several days had now passed since Jones visited the +manse; and he could hold out no longer. On the very +day on which Mr. Manners was engaged in the melancholy +duty we have described, the unhappy lover bent his steps +thither, with an anxious and fluttering heart. As he +walked up the garden, he observed Miss Manners watering +a small bed, in which she had planted some favourite +flowers. The young lady was a good deal embarrassed on +beholding him. Her father’s injunctions against receiving +his visits had made a deep impression on her mind, and +she had directed the servant, the next time he called, to +say that she could not be seen. Now, however, there was +no escape. Jones walked towards her with a smile of +mingled fear and admiration; and, if not with cordiality, +she received him at least with politeness. Their conversation, +as they strolled through the garden, was at first embarrassed, +but became more free by degrees, and assumed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +at length an almost confidential tone. To a person of a +romantic disposition, Jones’ conversation was in a high degree +fascinating; and his companion in this delightful walk +did not conceal the pleasure with which she listened to it. +His candour and unreserve she admired; his misfortunes +she commiserated; and, with much that he said she could +not fail to be both interested and flattered. Nevertheless, +she avoided any word by which she thought she might +give encouragement to his hopes; while he, on the other +hand, although freely expressing his passion, was careful +to avoid a syllable which might lead her to believe that, +in his present disgrace and poverty, he presumed to the +honour of her hand. After wandering about for some time, +their souls melting into each other, Miss Manners could +not resist inviting him into the house to rest. Scarcely, +however, had they seated themselves in the parlour, when +Mr. Manners appeared. He entered with rather a hasty +step, and his manner was a good deal agitated. On perceiving +Jones, he bowed to him, then turning to his daughter—</p> + +<p>“My child!” he said.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” inquired Miss Manners, in a tone of alarm.</p> + +<p>“Have you,” he continued, “forgotten my injunctions?”</p> + +<p>Miss Manners cast her eyes on the ground, and seemed +displeased at being taken to task before a stranger.</p> + +<p>Jones, observing her embarrassment, said—</p> + +<p>“Sir, I shall be sorry if my presence here should occasion +you any uneasiness. Believe me, I am the last person +in the world to intrude where I am not welcome. It +will, no doubt, cost me a pang, sir; but if it be your wish +that I should not see your daughter more, I shall try to +tear my heart from her—I shall go and hide myself in +obscurity, and endeavour to forget all I have most loved +in this world!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +Mr. Manners raised his hand, as if commanding silence, +and gazed stedfastly on his daughter. The latter looked +up to him with tears in her eyes, and exclaimed—</p> + +<p>“I think Mr. Jones is innocent!”</p> + +<p>“He <em>is</em> innocent,” said the old man, emphatically. +“Come to my arms, both!”</p> + +<p>Both moved forward and took the hand he offered, but +with amazement depicted on their countenances.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my children!” he said, “I have witnessed such a +scene!”</p> + +<p>The old man sat down on the sofa, and, for a few moments, +covered his eyes with his hands.</p> + +<p>“I have been,” he, at length, proceeded, “by the dying +bed of the poor village maiden’s murderer—I have heard +the fearful confession from his own lips. O God! may I +never behold such another deathbed!”</p> + +<p>Jones dropped on his knee, and Miss Manners clasped +her hands as in mute prayer.</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” at length exclaimed the latter; “the +innocent will no longer suffer for the guilty!”</p> + +<p>“No!” said the old man. “Mr. Jones, you have been +deeply wronged.”</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said Jones; “but not by you. From you only +have I received kindness—kindness often better deserved, +but never more needed—often, perhaps, bestowed, but +never received with deeper gratitude. While every door +was barred against me, yours was open—while every +heart”——</p> + +<p>His utterance became choked, and he was altogether +unable to proceed. Mr. Manners shook him warmly by +the hand; and, with many expressions of thankfulness, +Jones withdrew, leaving Miss Manners in tears.</p> + +<p>On returning homewards, it was obvious that the news +of Merrideth’s death, together with its fearful revelations, +had spread like wildfire through the village. How different +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +was Jones’ reception!—nods, recognitions, congratulations, +cheers, wherever he passed! Of these, however, +he thought not: he thought only of the girl he had +left behind him weeping. That very night he again repaired +to the manse. He went often; and every succeeding +time seemed to be made more welcome.</p> + +<p>A pleasant—a delightful change had now taken place in +his feelings. The consciousness of having outlived the +slander which had so long sullied his name, filled his bosom +with a sensation of honest pride, and inspired him with a +degree of ease and confidence which he had not previously +experienced. Miss Manners was scarcely less gratified by +the mystery having been at length cleared up, and the +public mind disabused. From her first interview with +Jones, she had entertained a strong impression of his innocence; +and the fact of her good opinion of him being +confirmed, she regarded with feelings almost of triumph. +Accordingly, their meetings were mutually delightful. If, +at any time, the latter doubted the propriety of encouraging +his visits, the reflection that she had done right, in the +first instance, in following the dictates of her heart, caused +her to continue in the same course. The truth is, she +pitied Jones; and pity, it is well known, is akin to a still +tenderer emotion.</p> + +<p>Two or three weeks after the scene we have described, +there was a small evening party at the manse. It was +given in honour of Mr. and Mrs. Green, who had just +been a few days married. The young couple were ushered +into the drawing-room in gay attire, and with their faces +wreathed into still gayer smiles; and, in the fair bride, +Jones, who was, of course, present, recognized the lady +who had, on one occasion, betrayed so much alarm on his +doing her a trifling act of kindness. The affair, in the +absence of more important topic of conversation, was +talked and laughed over; and the bride acknowledged +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +herself to have been a very silly girl. All the company +were soon in high spirits, and the merriment was kept up +till it was near midnight. On separating, the company +could not help expressing their admiration of the serenity +of the night. It was a clear, lovely moonlight; and the +exquisite stillness and beauty of the scene caused some of +the younger individuals of the party to regret that they +had spent so much time within doors. When they reached +the gate, Miss Manners, who had accompanied them +through the garden, bade them “good night.” “Good +night,” said they, and parted; but Jones, who was the +last to shake hands with her, could not part. He lingered, +pressed her hand, wished her “good night,” and +still lingered.</p> + +<p>“I must escort you a little way back,” he at length said; +and, accordingly, the two strolled up the garden, hand in +hand—she speaking of the lateness of the hour, and he of +the loveliness of the moon and stars, until night, moon, +and stars, were all forgotten.</p> + +<p>After a few moments’ silence, Jones suddenly paused, +and, pressing her hand in both of his, said—</p> + +<p>“Marion, I would we might never part. I never leave +you without pain.”</p> + +<p>“I know not why it should be so,” she said; “but you +must just come back the oftener.”</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said he; “but even to be absent from you a +little while, is torture.”</p> + +<p>“I fear,” she said, “you are but a poor philosopher.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” he replied, “philosophy can do many things, but +it cannot cure the heartache. O Marion! I love to call +you by that name! It is in your power to end all my +anxieties: a word—a word will do it! How say you? May +I hope? Nay, I do hope; but, may I call you by that +name?”</p> + +<p>“What name?” interrupted Miss Manners, tremulously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +“That name, dear heart, which is the tenderest man +can bestow on woman?”</p> + +<p>Her reply was inaudible. Jones, however, kissed her +lips, and she forbade him not. On parting, he again kissed +her, and returned to his lodgings with feelings of unmixed +ecstacy.</p> + +<p>A few weeks passed—they were weeks of delicious expectancy, +of unrestrained intercourse, of active preparation; +and the event which was to crown their happiness was +duly solemnized. It was a day of great rejoicing in the +village; and, as they dashed off on their marriage jaunt, +they were honoured with the blessings and cheers of a +large crowd of people who had assembled to wish them joy. +On returning, a few days afterwards, similar demonstrations +of respect awaited them; and they continued to live in the +neighbourhood, greatly esteemed and beloved by all who +knew them—esteemed for their many virtues, and beloved +for their simple and unostentatious manners.</p> + +<p>One little incident, which happened many years afterwards, +is perhaps worth relating. An old man, who had +been long unable to work, and to whom Jones had shown +much kindness, grasped him one day by the hand, and +said—</p> + +<p>“Sir, I once struck you on the head with a stone; do +you forgive me?”</p> + +<p>“I do,” was the reply; “but you must not do so again.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SERGEANT’S TALES.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>THE PALANTINES.</strong><a name="FNanchor_G_7" id="FNanchor_G_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_G_7" class="fnanchor">[G]</a></p> + + +<p>Of all the countless numbers that take their pleasure walks +upon the Calton Hill of Edinburgh, none that do not remember +it an isolated spot, of awkward access, can have +any recollection of Sergeant Square’s tall and gaunt figure, +his cue, cocked hat, gaiters, and military appearance, as he +took his daily promenade around the airy and delightful +walks, or sat upon its highest point, where Nelson’s Monument +now stands, in stately solitude, as if he had been the +genius of the hill, resting his square and bony chin on the +top of his gold-headed cane, with his immense hands serving +as a cushion between. Thus would he sit for hours, +gazing on the busy scene beneath, as if he knew what occupied +the bustling crowds, and directed their labours +according to the impulse of his will. We had passed and +repassed each other in our walks for weeks, before any +approach to recognition took place between us. I was the +first to make an advance, by giving him a slight bow, as +we passed; this he returned, and an acquaintance soon +ripened into intimacy. Under his stiff and formal air, I +found one of the most kind and communicative hearts I +ever communed with. It is long since I laid his head in +the grave; and I never visit the hill, but memory conjures +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +up his remarkable figure, as vividly as if we stood +face to face, till I almost think I may meet him at each +turn, while I saunter along, lost in musing on days that +are gone. I may meet with new piles of stone and mortar +profaning the sacred spot; but, Sergeant Square I shall +never meet there again! But to proceed. It was on that +day the 42d regiment marched into Edinburgh, after their +return from Egypt, that we were enjoying our usual walk. +It was a spirit-stirring time, and our talk was of war, and +the gallant exploits of our countrymen. His eye flashed; +his gold-headed cane rested on his shoulder as if it had +been a musket; his walk became a march; he was evidently +thinking of the battles he had been in; when, embracing +the opportunity, I requested a short account of his adventures. +It was some time before he took any notice of my +request, so completely was his mind absorbed in his own +recollections. We had reached the north-east angle of the +hill before he spoke. At length he seated himself on the +smooth green turf—I by his side; and, after a pause—</p> + +<p>“If you have the patience to listen to me,” he said, “I +do not care if I do give you some account of what I have +seen, suffered, and enjoyed in this strange world.”</p> + +<p>“It is of small importance,” he began, “where a man +was born, or who was his father—his own actions must +bring him fame or shame. The first sounds that ever +attracted my particular attention, were those of the music +bells of old St. Giles’, and the firing of the guns in Edinburgh +Castle. I had reached my twelfth year, when my +father, who was a Jacobite, joined the Highland army at +Duddingstone, while Prince Charles was in Holyrood +House, and I never saw him again. My mother, who was +weakly at the time, and our circumstances very poor—for +my father was only a day-labourer—took it so much to +heart that she survived only a few months, and I was +thrown destitute upon my own resources, which, God +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +knows, were scant enough. I was tall and stout for my +age, and roughed it out, ragged, hungry, and cold, about +the city, for three years and some months—running messages, +or doing any little thing I could get to do for a piece +of bread or a mouthful of victuals; and choosing the +warmest stair, or any other convenient place, for a bedroom. +Rough as this training was, I was far from being +unhappy; for I had my enjoyments, humble as they were—as +yet innocent, and as keenly relished as if they had +been those of luxury. These few years of hardships were +soon to be of eminent service to me—perhaps the means +of saving my life.</p> + +<p>It was the spring of the year. The winter had been +very severe, and I was rejoicing in the thought of summer, +which, for the poor, has fewer wants and less of suffering. +Loitering, as usual, upon the High Street, hungry enough, +and looking for some little job to earn a breakfast, I was +accosted by a rough-looking man, rather genteelly dressed, +who inquired if I would carry a parcel for him to Leith, +and he would give me a sixpence. My heart bounding +with joy at the rich reward, I said I would. Whereupon +he inquired if my parents would not be angry at my going, +or my master, if I had one. I told him I had neither +parent nor master, not even a friend in the world to find +fault with me how I spent my time. A grim smile of +satisfaction came over his countenance; he put the offered +sixpence again into his pocket, and gave me a small paper +parcel, with the direction where I was to carry it; adding, +as I stood waiting for my reward—‘Run quick, like a +good boy. Tell them to give you some breakfast, and wait +until I come and give you the sixpence.’ Away I ran, like +a greyhound from the slip, to get a breakfast and earn my +sixpence. Swift as was my flight, never did the Canongate +or the Easter Road—the only one to Leith from +Edinburgh at this time—appear so long to me. When I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +arrived at the house to which I had been directed, in one +of the dark alleys near the shore, I was ushered into a +small, darkened room. A stout, thick-set man, in a seaman’s +dress, heard my message, received my parcel, without +once opening his lips, and locked the door.</p> + +<p>Hungry, disappointed, and alarmed at this unlooked-for +reception, I stood for some time lost in amazement. At +length I looked around; there was no furniture in the +room, not even so much as a seat of any kind. My fears +became excessive. I screamed to be set at liberty, and +beat upon the door with my hands and feet, until I sank +upon the floor from fatigue, and burst out into a fit of +weeping. No answer was made, nor any notice taken of +my efforts. I looked through my tears at the window; +but it was high, small, and strongly secured with iron +stanchels. I had lain thus on the floor for an hour or +two, when I heard the key turn in the lock. I sprung to +my feet as the door opened; and the same person entered, +bearing a pewter tankard of beer, some bread, and salt +beef. A thick stick under his arm caught my eye, and +excited new terrors. He set the victuals upon the floor, +and then, brandishing the bludgeon over my head, threatened +to beat my brains out if I made such a noise again—giving, +in pure cruelty and wantonness of power, a few +blows across the shoulders, to teach me, as he said, what +I might expect if I did not attend to his orders. Pointing +to the food, he surlily ordered me to eat, and immediately +again locked the door. Hungry as I had been a short time +before, my heart was too full for me to eat; and the blows +I had received pained me very much. I sat down and +wept more bitterly than I had done; but the hunger +of a boy is keener than his grief—so I at length made +a hearty meal, moistened by my tears, and wept myself +asleep.</p> + +<p>How long I had lain thus I had no means of ascertaining. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +I was roused by the voice of mirth and singing in +another apartment. All was dark; so much so, I could +not even distinguish the small grated window from the +dead walls. I listened for some time in surprise, and +would fain have persuaded myself I had been in an unpleasant +dream; but my shoulders were still sore, and the +small basket and tankard, I felt, were still at my side. For +some time I revolved in my mind what step to take—whether +to remain quiet, or knock upon the door, and implore my +liberty—at least to be made acquainted with the cause of +my being detained. At length my suspense became so +unbearable that I resolved to brave every danger, and +began to knock at the door, for which I had groped, tapping +gently at first, and gradually knocking louder and +louder. The voice of my jailor, evidently in extreme +anger, again sounded fearfully through the key-hole—‘Be +quiet, or I will come in and beat your noisy body to a +mummy.’ I shrunk from the door, and leaned upon the +wall, as far from him as the small dimensions of the room +would admit, trembling, in fearful expectation of his entrance. +While I stood thus, a prey to the keenest anguish, +the mirth and jollity for a time increased, and at length +grew fainter and fainter, until it ceased. All was still for +a little; then I heard the noise of footsteps approaching +the door of my prison-room, and a sound as if something +was in the act of being dragged along the passage. The +key was placed in the door, and it opened. My heart beat +as if it would have burst my bosom, when I saw the ruffian +who had locked me up, and another like himself, dragging +what appeared to me to be the dead body of a man. I +uttered a suppressed scream, and must have fallen to the +ground, had I not been pent up in the corner. My eyes +were as if they would have started from their sockets, and +I could not withdraw them from the horrid sight. One of +the men held a lanthorn in his left hand, which threw a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +feeble light upon the group; while, with his right hand, +he grasped the left arm of the body; and, his companion +exerting all his strength, they dragged it to the side of the +room, and dropped it upon the floor. A stifled groan +issued from it, which thrilled through my ears like an +order for my execution; and I would have darted from +the spot, wild with despair, although I saw the eyes of both +watching me, as they deposited the body, with a malignant +grin of satisfaction; but my limbs refused to obey my will, +and I stood the image of despair. The men spoke not a +word, but, retiring, locked the door upon me, and left me +with a thing my nature revolted from. Scarce were they +gone when similar sounds fell upon my ear, and they again +entered with a second victim. This was more than I could +endure: a wild energy came over me; I sank upon my +knees, and implored them not to murder me, or leave me +alone with the bodies, for mercy’s sake! I sank upon the +floor, and grasped their legs in the fervency of my supplications. +With a fiendish laugh, they spurned me from +them; and, as they locked the door, growled—</p> + +<p>‘What does the fool mean?—beware, the cudgel!’</p> + +<p>As the sound of the closing and locking of the door died +away, I was roused from my stupor of fear to an agony of +terror, that drove me almost to madness. A movement +in one of the bodies, accompanied by deep guttural sounds, +indicated that the objects of my terror were coming to life +again, or were not yet quite dead. This produced new +terrors, and I dashed myself upon the door, uttering the +most piercing cries. The ruffians again entered, and beat +me without mercy; but I was now beyond the fear of personal +suffering; and I really believe, so intense was my +feeling of fear and horror, that I would have leaped into +a furnace to avoid or free myself from my situation. Their +threats and blows were vain. I reiterated my cries more +intensely; for I saw both the bodies become apparently +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +animated, and turn their dull, stupid gaze on me, as I +struggled to wrench myself from the grasp of the ruffians. +Our struggle was short; for one of them set down the +lanthorn, forced down my arms behind me, and held me +fast, while the other dropped the cudgel with which he had +been beating me, and, taking a piece of rope-yarn from +his jacket pocket, bound my wrists behind my back; he +then deliberately took the large key out of the lock of the +door, placed it in my mouth, across between my teeth, tied +it firm behind my head, and so effectively gagged me, that +I could not utter a sound. How I retained my reason at +this fearful period I know not, for I expected death every +moment; and there was a misty vagueness about my fate +that had even greater terror than death itself. As soon as +I was thus silenced, they stood grinning at my agony for a +minute before either spoke. At length—</p> + +<p>‘This is a troublesome customer enough, for noise part,’ +said the first ruffian to the other; ‘but he will now be +quiet enough, I think. I wish the boat were come, or we +shall have plenty on our hands soon, when these two have +slept it off. It is full tide now, and they were to have been +here an hour ere flow. What can detain the lubbers, think +you?’</p> + +<p>‘Can’t say,’ replied the other; ‘perhaps something is in +their way. There they are.’</p> + +<p>At this moment a low whistle sounded faintly into the +room, as if coming from under the window. One of the +men answered by a similar whistle, and both left the room; +and in a few minutes four sailors entered, and, taking up +one of the objects of my dread, carried it out. One of the +ruffians then assisted me to rise, and, holding me by the +collar, dragged me out of the house after them, down to the +Ferry-boat Stairs at the quay, more dead than alive. The +four seamen had placed their burden in a boat that lay +there. I was placed beside it. It lay inanimate; and I, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +seated on one of the thwarts, was guarded by two seamen, +who kept watch, while the four were away for the other +victim. At length they came, deposited their burden +beside the other, pushed off from the pier, and rowed out +of the harbour’s mouth. As they pulled along, I felt my +spirits revive, the fear of immediate death passed from my +mind; and, besides, I was in company with living beings +like myself, however cruel they might be. Before we +reached the beacon, the ruffian who had first locked me +up, and who was now in the boat with us, loosened the key +from my mouth, and undid the cord from my hands, which +had begun to swell, from the tight manner in which they +were tied. This act almost relieved me of my fears; still +all was silence in the boat, not a word had as yet been +spoken by any one; but afterwards, as we gained distance +from the shore, they began to converse.</p> + +<p>‘So the Betsy sails to-morrow, without fail,’ said the first +ruffian.</p> + +<p>‘She does,’ was the answer of the seaman.</p> + +<p>‘Why has her stay been so short this trip?’ again asked +the man. ‘We will make but a poor job of it. We have +only nabbed five.’</p> + +<p>‘Why, I think you have done pretty well,’ answered the +sailor; ‘twenty-five pounds for two days’ work is good pay. +Old Satan, you are never content.’</p> + +<p>‘None of your slack, mate,’ rejoined the other; ‘I won’t +stand it. Two days more would have made it fifty or +better; and no man, more than I, would be content with +one half of what he might and ought to have.’</p> + +<p>‘I believe we are full, old Grumbler,’ said the tar; ‘others +are more active than you; but here, we are just alongside +of the Betsy. Ship, ahoy! Throw us a rope! Are you +all asleep?’</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, a rope was thrown; it was made fast +by the fore thwarts, when the ruffians and mate went on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +board, and remained for some time. At length the mate +returned, and, holding the end of the rope from the vessel, +ordered me to ascend, which I did with difficulty. My +two companions were then hoisted on board, being fastened +to a rope, and dragged up by the crew of the vessel. As +soon as they were on deck, the ruffians descended into +a boat without speaking a word, and put off for the harbour.</p> + +<p>When it was gone, I was conducted to the hold of the +vessel; and the two companions of my adventure were carried, +and placed beside me. My terror of them had now +entirely fled; for, from their contortions and half-muttered +expressions, I had perceived they were not dead, but in a +beastly state of intoxication. Even to be from under the +same roof with the cause of my sufferings was to me a +change much for the better. With a mind comparatively +at ease, I fell asleep upon the hard deck, where I had at +first taken my station, and remained in happy unconsciousness +until I was awoke after sunrise, in consequence of +the bustle and noise around me. For a few minutes I +revolved the events of the preceding day and night in my +mind, and shuddered as the recollection dawned upon me. +Raising myself upon my elbow, I gazed around as well as +the obscurity would permit (for the main hatch was closed), +and saw the two young men who had caused me so much +alarm, lying close beside me, in a profound sleep, and +breathing very heavily. I attempted to rise; but felt so +sick and giddy that I could not keep my feet, from the +motion of the vessel. I longed for the presence of some of +the crew; but none of them came near us. The two lads +at length awoke from their sleep, bewildered and sick +almost to death; they gazed around them with a vacant +stare, as if they had just passed into a new state of existence. +They spoke not a word; their minds were occupied +in examining all around them, and, as I thought, ascertaining +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +their own identity. Young as I was, had I been +at ease, I could have enjoyed the extraordinary scene +before me; but, alas! I was a partaker of all the feelings +that were passing in their minds. At length they broke +silence—</p> + +<p>‘Willie, Willie, what’s come owre us now?’ cried Peter.</p> + +<p>‘Indeed I do not know, Peter,’ replied he; ‘but I fear it +is no good.’</p> + +<p>‘What good can be expected from such company as we +were in last night?’ continued the first, ‘and such drinking +as we had. O Willie, had you come away when I wanted—but +I am as bad as you, or I would have left you when I +threatened.’</p> + +<p>‘There is no use to reflect upon what is done, when it +cannot be undone,’ said his friend. ‘I fear the deceitful +scoundrels drugged our liquor; for I have no recollection +of anything that occurred after your proposing to leave +them.’</p> + +<p>Then, addressing me, he asked if I knew where they +were, or in what ship. I answered that I did not, further +than that, from what I had seen and heard, I thought we +were on board of a vessel they called the Betsy; and then +gave them an account of all I had witnessed the evening +before. The younger of the two began to weep like a +child; while the other, whose rage knew no bounds, swore +fearfully at the two ruffians who had betrayed them into +their present situation. When he became more calm, I +requested him to explain himself; and learned from him +his own history and that of his companion. They were +schoolfellows, cousins, and fellow-apprentices; had served +their time as joiners; and then left their native village, +to pursue their calling in the capital, with some views, +though not matured, of emigrating to America. Having +been unsuccessful in obtaining work in the city, they had +come down to Leith to make inquiries about a passage to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +America; and were so unfortunate as to fall into the hands +of one of the notorious plantation-crimps, who, pretending +to be intimate with the captain of a trading vessel about +to sail, enticed them to his den, that they might obtain +all the information they required. They were plied with +liquor; robbed of all the money they had; and placed +in the situation in which I now saw them. From the +inquiries they had made in Leith, and our mutual explanations, +it was too evident to us all three that we had been +kidnapped and sold to a palantine vessel, to be carried out +to Virginia, and there sold as slaves, to the highest bidder. +The young men were inconsolable; as for me, I cared little +about it, now that I was assured there was no immediate +personal violence to be feared: hard fare and hard living +were my lot—I knew no other. While others, bred to +better things, were in misery, I was comparatively in happiness. +Such is the influence of habit. To have my provisions +regularly served, with nothing to do but lie upon +the floor of the hold, or walk about in its narrow limits, +was to me sufficient recompense for an evil, which to others +would have appeared irremediable.</p> + +<p>The next tide after we were put on board, the Betsy +left Leith Roads, and sailed for Aberdeen, on her progress +north. Our number was there augmented to eighteen—the +recruits being all boys about my own age, who, not +being kidnapped, but trepanned with false promises, came +on board in great spirits, and full of hope. I could notice +the various operations going forward, in consequence of +my cheerful and contented manner having obtained for me +permission to come on deck and range over the vessel. +My slight sickness went off as soon as we were under way; +and, pleased with my new mode of life, I began to make +myself as useful to the crew as I could; but the two lads +were not so fortunate; for they were continually abusing +the captain, or importuning him to put them on shore. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +In the forenoon of the day before we sailed from Aberdeen, +a boat, containing a quantity of luggage, came alongside, +and a genteelly-dressed couple came on board, and were +ushered into the cabin. The female appeared very dejected; +and, hanging upon the male with anxious fondness, +expressed through her silent tears, bent her gaze, alternately +looking towards the shore with an expression of regret, +and then in his face with a languid smile. He was as well-made +and good-looking a man as I have ever seen in all +my wanderings; but there was a marble-like rigidity in his +features, only enlivened by a peculiar cast of his piercing +black eyes, that created a peculiar feeling of uneasiness in +me as I looked at him. He left the vessel; but when I +know not; for we sailed before sunset; and I never again +saw the female he left until we had passed Cape Wrath, +some few days after. As for myself, I was quite happy, +and felt myself more at home than I had done since my +mother’s death. The ship was a home to me. I had my +allowance with the other palantines; slept in the hold with +them at night; and enjoyed, along with many of them, the +pleasure of building castles in the air—anticipations of the +wealth and comforts we were to enjoy in the land of promise. +It was, indeed, by delusive accounts of America, +that most of them had been induced to embark.</p> + +<p>We were now careering over the blue waves of the vast +Atlantic, as if we were far above the earth. Nothing was +there for the weary eye to rest upon but a dreary expanse +of ocean and sky. All was still as death, save the hissing +at the bows of the vessel, as she parted the unfathomable +deep. The crew loitered upon the decks listlessly; and +we, as palantines, huddled together around the mainmast, +were whiling away the time in songs, or talking of the +homes we had left behind, and future hopes in a foreign +land. We were suddenly interrupted by the female I have +already mentioned, who came rushing up the companion, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +from the cabin, and crouched amongst us like a frightened +hare. I could not have believed that so short a period of +time could have wrought so great a change upon a human +being. She was thin, pale; her eyes red, and sunk in +her head; her hair dishevelled; and her whole appearance +exhibiting the extreme of neglect. We all looked upon +her in astonishment; for, indeed, we were not aware that +there was a female on board. Her sobs and distracted +looks moved our young hearts almost to tears. She spoke +nothing; fear had chained up her tongue; her eyes were +either bent imploringly upon us, or turned, in aversion +and terror, towards the quarter from whence she had +come. All on deck was dumb show; the sailors looked +on, apparently as much surprised as we were; and, in the +midst of the silent scene, the captain came on deck, apparently +in great agitation. He was coming towards us, +when the female sank on her knees, and, raising her +clasped hands, called on God to save her from that bad +man; then, looking around to us, implored us, in the most +thrilling accents, not to deliver her up to him. We were +ourselves slaves; yet, such is the force of a woman’s appeal, +that we placed ourselves between her and him, while the +crew stood apart, and looked silently on. The captain +affected to laugh.</p> + +<p>‘Lady, what are you afraid of, that you have left the +cabin?’ he said. ‘It was all in jest, upon my honour! +You are as safe there as in your father’s house. Come, +madam, I shall have the pleasure to lead you back.’</p> + +<p>‘Oh, never!’ screamed the female. ‘Leave me! leave +me! if you would not drive me mad, or into this boundless +ocean. What on earth have I now to care for? I +know I am your slave, by the basest and cruellest means, +but worse I shall never be. A favour from your hands +would be hateful to me. With these, my fellow-sufferers, +I can alone feel myself secure from insult. Your cabin I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +shall never enter. Foolish—oh, how foolishly confiding I +have been!—but criminal I shall never be. So, leave me, +for mercy sake!’</p> + +<p>While she spoke, my eyes were fixed upon him. I saw +the working of passion deeply depicted on his countenance; +pity had no place there. A faint shade of shame passed +over him; but disappointment settled into fierce rage. +Stamping upon the deck, and in a voice hoarse from +emotion—</p> + +<p>‘It is well, madam,’ he cried. ‘You have made your +choice, and shall abide by it; and those who, by their +looks, indicate their resolution to abet your folly, shall not +fare the better for their interference. Mate, call the crew! +force the palantines below; and batten them down, as base +mutineers.’</p> + +<p>Not one of us had as yet spoken one word; the whole +was the affair of a few minutes. The mate ordered us +below; and we were obeying the order as fast as we +could—the distressed female huddling in the midst of us, +fearful to be on the deck alone—when William, in his +undaunted manner, stepped up to the captain, and began +to upbraid him, both for his conduct in having kidnapped +us, and for his present conduct towards an unprotected +female. He even threatened him with exposure as soon +as we reached the shores of America. Peter, his friend, +in vain urged him to refrain from irritating the captain; +but the hot-headed youth heeded not the advice, and stood +by his point, till the captain, who uttered not one word, +bit his lip, and, hurrying to his cabin, returned with a +cocked pistol in each hand. The mate, who was a good-hearted +kind of lad, was, at the moment, persuading +William to go below quietly; but his blood was up; and, +even at sight of the pistols, he quailed not. I looked on +with fear, for the captain’s stern silence looked ominous. +He levelled one of the pistols, and fired; the ball passed close +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +by his intended victim, and went right through the fore-sail. +The second he was in the act of raising, when William +struck his hand down, and it went off, sending the ball +through the deck. The furious man now called to the +mate and crew to place poor William in irons. The youth +stood still resolute, and would have rushed upon the captain +and hurled him to the deck, or perhaps overboard +(for he was a powerful lad), had not Peter held him back. +The irons were now produced from the cabin—William +and the captain eyeing each other meanwhile like two +tigers; and three of the crew and the mate, set on by the +captain, who kept blaspheming in a fearful manner, rushed +to secure the young man. Peter at once loosed his hold +of William, and stood in his defence; whereupon the captain, +starting to give personal aid, uttered a shrill cry of +pain, and fell upon the deck, which was stained with his +blood. The ball had passed through his foot before it +entered the wood. As many of us as the hatchway would +admit, witnessed the scene; but none of us had any mind +to be partakers in it. William and Peter were secured +and put in irons before the vindictive villain would allow +himself to be removed from the deck. It was no matter, +in his anger, that his foot bled. He even stood, while the +deck was streaming, till we were also battened down into +the dark hold—the two companions remaining in irons above. +As soon as we were all settled below, in which there was +not even proper accommodation for us poor palantines, the +female retired to one corner; and, seating herself on the +bare boards, leaned her head to the side of the vessel, and +wept bitterly. We were deeply affected by her situation +and distress; but had nothing in our power whereby to +alleviate her sorrow, save, indeed, our sympathy; and that +we only gave in secret; for her ladylike appearance, in a +great measure, overawed us, and made us retire from her. +The greater part of us composed ourselves to sleep. Before +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +morning, it blew a dreadful gale, as we could perceive by +the pitching of the vessel and the noise of the rigging, +which sounded fearfully in our ears. All of us became +very sick. The poor lady I thought would have died; +her weakness was extreme; and her suffering apparently +beyond any present remeid. Two days and nights we +remained in this dreadful situation, without a mouthful of +food or a drop of water. Our sufferings increased hourly, +and were almost more than we could endure. We shouted +for help, or to be liberated from our noisome prison. Our +cries were either unheeded or drowned by the noise and +tumult of the storm. I and a few more had recovered +from the sickness only to feel, in greater horror, our painful +situation. The heat of the hold was intense, and aggravated +our thirst tenfold. The air even became offensive; +our breathing a kind of painful spasm of the windpipe. +We crept to the foot of the ladder under the main hatch +and, holding by it, sucked in some fresh air. I had been +here for some time, and felt my sufferings alleviated; and +the poor female’s situation in the distant corner, selfish as +we had all become, moved us so much to pity, that two +of us agreed to relinquish our envied post, to ascertain +whether she still survived.</p> + +<p>We found her extended upon the hard boards, to all +appearance dead; I placed my hand upon her heart, to +ascertain if life was extinct. She opened her eyes, and +made a motion with her hand as if she wished me to retire. +Humanity forbade compliance; and, in the best manner +we could, we conveyed her to the foot of the ladder, where +she gradually began to recover and breathe more freely. +This was now the third day of our confinement. The storm +had almost subsided, as we could feel from the vessel lying +more steady in the water; and, to our unspeakable joy, +the hatch was opened, and a supply of water and biscuit +given to us. Next to the water, the pure air of heaven was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +most welcome to us. I wet the parched lips of the pale +sufferer, then held the beverage to them. She swallowed +a few mouthfuls, blessed me for my kindness, then sank +into her usual melancholy. We were now told by the +mate that we were not to come on deck; but he would +leave the hatch open. We obeyed this command, which +came from the captain. William and Peter, who had witnessed +and endured the whole storm, in irons, lashed at +the foot of the mainmast to a ring bolt, were also liberated, +and came down amongst us. We learned from them that +we had been in great danger, and that the mate and crew +had been alarmed for the safety of the vessel. The captain +was still unable to leave his cabin; and, from all +accounts, he was very bad of the wound. This was so far +fortunate; for the mate, who was of a humane disposition, +brought some coffee for the female, which William, with +great difficulty, prevailed upon her to take. She gradually +began to recover; and the more passionate bursts of her +grief having subsided, we were anxious to learn how she +had been reduced to her present situation, and thought of +making a delicate inquiry into her history. At length the +frank and generous William put the question to her in +the most gentle manner; a burst of tears followed the +request.</p> + +<p>‘Much as it will pain me,’ she said, ‘I am so indebted +to you all for your kindness and humanity, that I cannot +refuse your desire. I almost feel it a duty to myself; for +appearances are strongly against me. So low as I must +appear at present to you all, I was born in affluence, though +not of an ancient family. My father was a wealthy merchant, +and the best of parents. My sainted mother died +before I had reached my tenth year, leaving us both inconsolable +for her loss. My father, who could scarce endure +to have me out of his sight—for I was an only child—engaged +a governess to complete my education. She was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +a young woman of engaging manners, and possessed of +every accomplishment; yet under these she concealed a +selfish disposition and hardness of heart, which neither my +father nor myself suspected could have existed in one so +young and bland in her speech. To me she was most +kind and unremitting in her duties—more, indeed, like a +mother than a hireling; and I loved her as if she had +stood in that relation to me. This won my father’s esteem +for her, which, unfortunately, soon ripened into love. One +day, I recollect, as I was walking in the garden, accompanied +by him, he led me to an arbour, and, placing me +beside him, said—</p> + +<p>‘Eliza, do you love Marian?’</p> + +<p>I artlessly threw my arms around his neck, and exclaiming—</p> + +<p>‘Oh, yes, papa; how much I thank you for getting me +so good a governess!’</p> + +<p>I had pleased him; for he smiled and said—</p> + +<p>‘My dear Eliza, I mean to bind her to you by a stronger +tie. I have watched her maternal care and affection for +you, and mean to give her the right to call you daughter.’</p> + +<p>I was delighted. The marriage was solemnised, and we +lived in harmony and mutual love, so far as I could perceive, +for six years. At this period my father fell into a +bad state of health, which threatened to terminate fatally. +Our attentions to him, unremitting and anxious, were repaid +by a gratitude and love which seemed equally divided +between his young wife and the child of his first love. +Marian showed no jealousy; and my heart was incapable +of any feelings but those of affection. Meanwhile, my +dear parent, to prepare for the worst, settled his affairs. +We were both in the room with him along with the lawyer. +He was dissolved in tears, and asked us if we were satisfied +with the manner in which he dictated the disposal of his +wealth. I could only answer by my sobs. My grief was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +excessive. The making of a will, to my young and inexperienced +mind, had all the appearance of the last act of +a living person. Death soon closed the scene. By the +settlement, it was provided that we were to be treated as +sisters, only a greater share of power (as if she had been +the elder sister) was given to his wife. It ran thus:—If +neither married, we were to live together, and the survivor +was to enjoy and have the disposal of all. If Marian +married, she was, during her life, to enjoy one-half, which +was to revert to me or my children at her death. If I +married during her life, without her consent, I was to be +cut off from any part of my father’s property, except what +she might choose to give me. This was a hard condition. +I was to have no claim at law; and, in the event of me +or my husband instituting an action, I was to be cut off +with a shilling. This fatal clause, which I heard read to +me at the time with indifference, has been the cause of all +my misfortunes, and since then I have had every reason +to believe my confiding father was prompted to insert it, +at the suggestion of my artful stepmother. For some time, +she had, at every opportunity, been speaking of foolish +marriages made by young women, and their fatal consequences, +illustrating them by numerous anecdotes and +examples, whereby she invidiously prepared him for her +selfish purpose, and at last compassed her object without +the appearance of a dictation which he would have spurned. +I was thus left at the mercy of this designing woman, who, +when she put on her widow’s robes, put off her hypocrisy +towards me, and began to appear in her true colours. Alas! +I have every reason to think that her acting had all along +been irksome to her. She became harsh and cruel, doing +all she could to make the house and her presence disagreeable +to me. She became gay, and frequented company, of +which I was forced to partake; and when I could scarce +refrain from tears at the remembrance of some cutting +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +speech she had used to me only a few hours before, I was +forced to smile to hide my chagrin. Before strangers, +there was no change towards me, neither was there anything +I could complain of to my acquaintance; for so artfully +did she manage to make me miserable, that every fault +was imputable to my own apparent bad temper. It was +when alone that I experienced her bitter manner. All was +wrong I said or did, and her admonitions for my amendment +were more cutting than her reproofs and abuse. I +had several eligible offers for my hand; all of which she +refused, under one pretence or another—covering her +designs against me by the mask of an anxiety for my happiness; +so that she was looked upon by all who were +acquainted with her as the best of stepmothers—the kindest +protector of youth. At length, her wishes were accomplished. +A nephew of her own, by her invitation, came +to reside with us for a short time, upon a visit. As if my +good genius warned me of my fate, I disliked him so much +at first, that I felt unhappy in his presence; but his assiduities +gradually won upon me. I contrasted him with his +aunt; love succeeded to aversion; and I was ruined.’</p> + +<p>Here a burst of tears for a time choked her utterance. +After some time, she resumed—</p> + +<p>‘I was now, for a time, happy in the delirium of youthful +love. His tender attentions had completely won my +heart. With a thrill of pleasure, covered by maiden +modesty, I heard his first declaration of unalterable love +for me. He saw too plainly the power he had over me. +His aunt refused, as usual, her consent to our union; and, +after upbraiding me for seducing the affections of her +nephew, locked me up in my room, while she retained him +in the house. Stolen interviews were the natural consequence. +He was all indignation at his aunt for her +unkindness to me; and, if possible, more tender and +respectful than ever. To escape the tyranny I had so long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +suffered, I unfortunately agreed to elope with him, and be +privately married. I explained to him the situation in +which I was placed, by my father’s will—he declared he +loved me for myself alone. I was now completely in the +toils; gave my consent; on the third night left my late +father’s house in his company, and set off in a postchaise, +which was drawn up at a short distance from the gate. +Next forenoon, we were lawfully married—his aunt taking +no steps to prevent it by following us, but contenting herself +by putting on the appearance of grief for my folly and +ingratitude to her, for all the care and attention she had +bestowed upon my education, and the base return I had +made for all her kindness. Can there be a doubt she was +the cause of all? Nay—she was the first to make known +to me the prior history of my husband—the man whom she +had first introduced to me, and to whom she gave every +facility to win my unsuspecting heart. She herself now +blushed not to say that he was a reprobate, without principle, +addicted to every vice, and one whom his friends had +found it out of their power to reclaim. With well-feigned +tears of regret, she upbraided herself for having ever allowed +him to enter her house—ascribing her motive to humanity, +and a desire to reclaim him from his errors; and hinting, +when she could, that I had defeated her good intentions, +and ruined myself. Alas! how true the latter part has +proved to me! I and my husband wrote to her letter after +letter, in vain. She refused, in the most insulting manner, +to allow me a shilling of my father’s fortune. All I obtained +was my own personal effects, and a few of the jewels that +had belonged to my mother. Poverty came fast upon us, +and debts increased. My husband had become unkind, +and often absent from me for days—excusing himself by +fears for his creditors. In our extremity, he spoke of emigration +to America, describing the country in glowing +colours, and dwelling on the happy prospects he anticipated +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +from the assistance of some relations he had there. I +offered no objection; for I had now no partiality for one +country more than another—where my husband was, there +was my heart and home; and, with a severe pang, not for +their value, but for the sake of her who now was unconscious +of my situation, I parted with the last of my mother’s +jewels, to defray the expense of our voyage. My own +jewels had been long since disposed of, to supply our +urgent wants. We left Edinburgh, like guilty creatures, +under the cloud of night, for fear of his being arrested, and +proceeded to join the vessel at Aberdeen. I can proceed +no further, lest my heart should burst. My heartless husband +had sold me to the captain, to be disposed of in +America—trepanned me north for his wicked purpose. +The rest you know.’</p> + +<p>Here her tears could no longer be suppressed; nor could +we restrain ours; yet no one spoke to interrupt her grief. +William alone uttered a few execrations against the aunt +and nephew.</p> + +<p>The weather continued rough, and the wind contrary, +and we suffered much for a few days from the pitching of +the vessel. We were still confined to the hold by the +captain’s orders; yet we had no other cause of complaint, +for the mate supplied all our wants in abundance. The +captain, who had continued very ill from the wound in his +foot, at length fevered, and his life was in danger; at his +request, the lady left the hold and waited upon him. He +begged forgiveness for the insult he had offered her; we +were all allowed the freedom of the vessel; and she continued +to nurse and watch over him with all that care and +assiduity that belong to women. After a tedious passage +of nine weeks, we arrived off Baltimore, in the State of +Maryland; the captain, who recovered, being still very +lame, though able to come upon deck. As soon as we cast +anchor off the mouth of the harbour (for we did not enter) +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +a message was sent to the town by the captain; and, on +the following day, a regular market was held upon our +deck, when we were put up to sale, and knocked down by +an auctioneer to the highest bidder. William and Peter +brought large sums, being expert tradesmen, and their +time of service was short, compared with the rest. The +others, like myself, were fit only for field work, and our +time, to make up the sum of forty pounds, which we +averaged, was three years. We all thought the captain +would have given the injured lady her liberty, and a present, +for her care of him; but avarice was his ruling passion, +and stifled gratitude. He had paid her unprincipled +husband a large sum for his victim, and was determined +to reimburse himself. All the favour he conferred upon +her was, that he did not dispose of her with the same regardlessness +as to who was the purchaser, but kept her on +board several days, while he made inquiries as to an eligible +situation. Those who knew him gave him little credit for +his endeavours, and did not scruple to say that he was as +anxious to drive a good bargain for himself as to find a +good master for her. Whatever was his motive, it turned +out very fortunate for her, as I heard afterwards; for a +rich shipowner of the city, whose wife had died a few +months before, satisfied the captain’s cupidity, and took her +to his house as a governess to his children, three of whom +were daughters. Before I left Maryland, I heard that she +had learned, through the English papers, which her master +regularly got, by one or other of the many vessels that +traded to this port, that her unprincipled husband had +been condemned and executed for robbing his aunt of a +large sum of money, and forging an order upon her banker, +not many weeks after we had left Scotland. Many years +afterwards, I learned, in Edinburgh, from William, who +had returned, after a long stay in Baltimore, with a considerable +sum of money, and had commenced builder, that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +before he left the city, she had married her master, and was +as wealthy and happy as any lady in the province. But +what struck me most forcibly was, the just retribution that +had taken place in her singular fortunes. Her stepmother +was, when he left, actually living an humble dependent upon +her bounty, in Baltimore. It appeared that, after she had +succeeded in forcing her stepdaughter into the fatal marriage +with her nephew, and obtained the object she plotted +for—possession of the whole property—she herself fell a victim +to a husband nearly as bad—a gambler and adventurer, +of a most prepossessing figure and address; the consequence +was, that all she possessed was lost by him at play, +or squandered in dissipation. Both had been living in +London in extreme want, when he was detected in swindling +transactions to a considerable amount. Whether guilty +or innocent of the fraudulent acts of her husband, there +were many suspicious circumstances which she could not +explain to the satisfaction of a jury, and both were convicted +and banished to the plantations. By good fortune +for them, the vessel that brought them out, bound for Norfolk, +in Virginia, had suffered much in a storm, put into +Baltimore in a leaky state, and there landed the convicts, +handing them over to the governor of Maryland. Eliza’s +husband, who was in the magistracy of the city, got the +list of their names when they were transferred from the +ship to the prison. Several of them had died on the voyage, +from bad fare, confinement, and harsh treatment; mostly +all were sickly, more or less; and Marian was very ill. +From her manners and appearance, Eliza’s husband became +interested in her; and, to save her life, had her removed +from the hospital in the jail, to his own house. You may +form your own conjectures of the astonishment of both +when they met. Eliza was the most forgiving and gentle +of creatures, as she had shown in her attention to the captain +after his bad usage of her; and, at her request, her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +husband got from the governor a grant of their services, +during the term the law had condemned them to serve. +The husband ran from the country a few months after his +arrival, and had not been heard of when William came +away; but the wife remained under the protection of her +she had attempted to ruin.</p> + +<p>To return to myself after this long digression, I and +other two of the young Aberdeen lads were purchased by a +farmer, and removed that afternoon to his home, about +twelve miles from Baltimore. A more pitiable figure, as +regards dress, never landed on any shore. I had still the +same remnant of clothes with which I had left Edinburgh; +but now they scarcely held together, and were besmeared +with tar; my feet and legs were clean, but shoes or stockings +were a luxury I had been long unused to. My long +yellow hair hung down my back, but covering I had none +for my head. My heart was light and joyous, as was that +of my companions. Our three years of bondage, we thought, +would soon pass away, and the golden period commence. +During our ride over the rough and ill-made road, in a +waggon in which our master had brought a load of tobacco +to town, our whole conversation was of our future golden +prospects; but, alas! we were soon awakened from our +pleasant dreams—for, upon our arrival at the farm, which +was not until some time after nightfall, we were placed in +a dark out-house, and the door barred upon us. Our +master was a sour-looking, taciturn man, who had scarcely +spoken to us all the way, save to inquire our ages, and what +kind of work we could best perform. For some time we +stood close by the door, unable to speak from surprise and +fear. So dark was the place where we were confined, that +we could not see our own hands, even when they touched +our faces. After standing thus, melancholy and terrified, +the bars were withdrawn, and our master entered with a +lanthorn and a basket, in which was abundance of pork +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +and Indian corn, boiled whole, and still warm, to be eaten +as bread. In a surly manner, he ordered us to take our +supper quickly, that we might be ready to turn out in the +morning to work. Young and hungry, we were not long +in dispatching our meal, when, pointing to a quantity of +dry grass at one end of our prison (for I can call it by no +other name), he lifted his lanthorn, and left us to ruminate +upon our melancholy situation and dreary prospects under +such a taskmaster. None of us felt inclined to speak; yet +it was some time ere any of us could close our eyes, in consequence +of the noise made by the bull-frogs in a swamp +near the farm. If we had not heard them as we approached +the place, and inquired what caused the, to us, strange sounds, +we would have been terribly alarmed. Tired nature at +length prevailed, and I sank asleep. Before sunrise next +morning, the harsh voice of our master, whip in hand, roused +us from repose. We started up, and followed him into the +enclosure in front of his barn and house.</p> + +<p>This was an oblong square, enclosed with stout wooden +paling, very thickly set, on the banks of a beautiful stream. +At one side were the buildings, composed entirely of wood—the +forest, which extended as far as the eye could reach, +was at no great distance in the rear—everything around +indicated the greatest plenty of all that was necessary for +the enjoyment of life, as far as food could administer to it; +there were several cows and horses, sleek and fat, feeding +under a shed; brood sows, with numerous progenies; and +fowls actually swarming around. The morning was beautiful; +the air, filled with a thousand grateful odours from +the fields, imparting to our young minds a buoyancy we +had been strangers to since we had left our own native +shores. Our hasty survey was made in a few minutes, +while we stood waiting further orders. Our master, who +had entered another part of the building, returned, accompanied +by two of the most miserable-looking men I had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +ever seen—as wretchedly clad as I was myself, with the +exception that they had broad straw-hats upon their heads. +Misery and they seemed to have been long intimates; my +heart sank within me at their appearance; both had wooden +clogs, consisting of a cut of about a foot long from the +branch of a tree, chained to their right leg at the ancle; +and this they carried over their arm. In addition, one of +them had a stout collar round his neck, from which projected +three iron hooks, about a foot from his head. We +burst into tears, thinking we were to be similarly equipped, +and would have fled, had flight been possible; all the riches +in the world we would have counted a mean reward to the +person who would have transported us from the tyrant’s +farm-yard to the beautiful hills and valleys of Scotland. As +they came to where we stood gazing through our tears, +three tall, bony, sallow-looking lads, sons of the proprietor, +issued from the principal building, with implements upon +their shoulders, one of which was given to each of us, and +we were now to begin our work. Before we proceeded, +our master said to us, in his harsh manner—</p> + +<p>‘Mind ye, lads, you are my bound servants for three +years, to do my will—mayhap for more. If you offer to +run away, I will catch you again; and, besides punishment, +dress you so—and he pointed with malicious triumph to +his victims—to prevent your running; and, mark me, for +every day you are absent, you serve me two.’</p> + +<p>In spite of his threat, I believe there was not one of us +who did not resolve to make his escape from him the first +opportunity. Had he treated us kindly, we would have +obeyed him with pleasure, nor thought of anything but +completing our period of service; but humanity was foreign +to his nature, and short-sighted avarice alone possessed all +his thoughts. He had himself been a convict in his youth; +but had for many years been free, and had purchased, +when it was yet part of the forest, the lot of land he now cultivated. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +All had been the creation of his own labour, and +he was proud of it to excess. When in good humour, +which was seldom the case, his feats against, and escapes +from, the Indians, and praises of his lands, were the only +things upon which he was loquacious.</p> + +<p>We soon learned that our two companions in misery +were government convicts, and very bad characters; both +had been guilty of many crimes, and were so hardened +that nothing but the strictest surveillance and coercion +could keep them in subjection. They were like tigers in +chains, and threatened the most fearful revenge, as soon as +the period of their servitude expired. This they did +openly to his face; and not a day passed without an +altercation, or without some punishment being inflicted +upon them, when they would threaten again until they +were tired, and wish that the Indians might give us a hot +wakening before morning, and yield them an opportunity +of making tobacco pouches of the scalps of the master and +his sons.</p> + +<p>I often wondered how he kept his temper; he seemed +to treat them with scorn—for his cool, calculating mind +had so long been familiar with the perils of his situation, +that he heeded them not so long as he conceived himself +secure. To us three youths, who trembled at his voice, he +was not excessively cruel, further than working us almost +beyond our strength. From sunrise to sunset, we were +allowed no intervals but a few minutes to swallow our +food, of which we had abundance and to spare.</p> + +<p>‘Eat well, work well,’ he used to say, ‘is American +fashion.’</p> + +<p>I had been with him about six months, and was literally +naked; my skin had become hard and brown as an Indian’s; +all my clothing consisted of some pieces of sheep skin I +had contrived for winter wear, and a straw hat of +coarse enough manufacture, which I had plaited and made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +for myself on the Sabbath-days, to screen me from the +intolerable glare and heat of the sun. Our appearance +gave us no concern, for we were completely excluded from +all intercourse with human beings, except those upon the +plantation; and strangers were seldom seen in our neighbourhood. +At the time I speak of, our master had been +down to Baltimore, with a waggon load of produce, consisting +of pork and salted beef, &c. He had made an +excellent market, and returned in a fit of good humour; +at our return from labour, he called us three into the +house, as we were passing to our prison, to be locked up +for the night. We were surprised at the invitation, for +we had never been within the walls of the dwelling-house. +As soon as we entered, he inquired if we would purchase +any clothing from him, seeing we were so much in want +of them. Scarcely could we believe our ears and eyes, +when, opening a box, he displayed canvas jackets, trousers, +and check shirts.</p> + +<p>‘You surely mean to make sport with us,’ said I; ‘for +you know well that we have not one farthing among us +three to purchase the smallest necessary.’</p> + +<p>‘That, I guess, is not of much matter,’ he replied, in +his quiet, husky manner, ‘if I choose to give you a long +credit.’</p> + +<p>We at once agreed to his own terms, and I signed a +bond for one hundred dollars, for a pair of coarse canvas +trousers, a jacket of the same, two check shirts, and a good +straw hat. My heart misgave me when I saw his peculiar +smile, as he placed my bond in his pocket-book. Pleased +as I was with my finery, I feared I had done wrong, but +did not know to what extent until next morning, when we +joined the convicts at labour. As soon as they saw us in +our new dresses, they burst out into a loud laugh.</p> + +<p>‘Oh!’ said they, ‘has the old villain limed his birds +already? Poor greenhorns, you have sold yourselves for +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +years to come. How are you to redeem the debts you +have incurred, and others you must yet incur, but by new +engagements? He has you in his toils.’ And they again +laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>We resumed our labour with heavy hearts; despondency +came upon us, and we began to droop and pine. At +night, when we retired to rest, and, until overpowered by +fatigue and sleep, we talked of nothing but plans of escape. +Numbers were formed and abandoned; to fly to the forests, +we must perish through hunger and fatigue, or wander +on, unknowing where to go; in the direction of the coast, +was still more impracticable, for all the planters were in +league with each other, to prevent the escape of the convicts +and palantines, and no one could travel unmolested, +without a certificate of his freedom. Our situation appeared +to us truly without remeid, and bitterly did we +lament our cruel fate.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for us, we had—more to have something to +keep a lingering hope of escape awake, than with any prospect +of success—for several Sundays employed ourselves in +undermining a part of the clay floor under the dried grass +upon which we slept. The hole passed under the logs; +and we had ascertained that it would be opened behind a +wild vine that spread its luxuriance over a great part of +the side and roof of our prison. We did not open it at the +outside, but contented ourselves by pushing a thin piece +of a branch through, lest we had been discovered by the +lynx eyes of our master and his sons. For weeks, things +had remained in this state, we resolving to run for it, +and again our hearts failing us, when one night we were +aroused out of our sleep by fearful cries, mixed with the +firing of rifles. It was the war-whoop of the Indians, who +had come down on a plundering expedition, and to avenge +some old aggression our master had perpetrated upon them. +So well had they concerted their plans, that the house was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +surrounded before any one knew of their being in the +neighbourhood. We lay still and trembled, nor knew +what was passing without. Rifle after rifle cracked, amidst +the whooping of the Indians; no one came to release us +from our confined place, and we were afraid to venture +out by our hole, lest we should be perceived by the savages, +and murdered; for we had been informed that, in a case +like the present, they gave no quarter to man, woman, or +child. At length, we could both smell and hear the crackling +of fire raging without. In agony we dashed upon the +door; it resisted our utmost effort; even death by the +Indians, was preferable to death by fire in our present +situation—it was horrible and astounding—the noise, too, +was dreadful—animals and men, all the inmates of the +enclosure, were uttering their wildest cries, and rushing +round it in distraction. The fire had caught the place we +were in. I entered our mine, and, by convulsive efforts, +forced off the little turf and earth we had left. I crawled +out, never rising from my belly, for I could perceive the +Indians, like fiends, running about in all directions, anxiously +gazing upon every object. The glare of the burning +buildings cast a deep red ray of light around, rendering +all fearfully distinct—my companions followed me—fortunately +some tall bushes concealed us from the Indians as +we crawled along the ground like serpents. The building +we had left we saw was now burning most furiously; and +the yelling continued. Thus we lay along upon the ground, +trembling lest we would be discovered every moment. +The Indians were passing and repassing where we lay, +with their piercing eyes bent upon the smouldering ruins. +The roof fell in, and no one appearing to issue out, they +retired towards the dwelling-house, where the fire of rifles +was still kept up, and the flames making fearful progress. +I have been in several battles, both by sea and land; but +no sound ever met my ears so appalling as the shout that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +arose when the unfortunate inmates burst forth to force +their way through their foes, or sell their lives as dearly +as they could. The firing almost immediately ceased, and +a fearful stillness ensued, almost as unbearable in our present +situation as the former tumult. The ruins still continued +to smoulder, and we feared even to breathe, lest we +should betray ourselves to the Indians.</p> + +<p>At length the sun shone forth in all his glory upon the +smoking ruins—our drooping spirits were partly revived, +and we crept to the edge of the bushes, and timidly looked +around—no human being was to be seen, and, after some +time, we ventured to rise to our feet. The Indians appeared +to have retired to the forest with their booty, and +we ventured forth. A sight the most appalling soon met +our eyes—there, close by each other, the old man and two +of his sons lay mangled and scalped; the other had been +consumed in the house, having doubtless been shot from +without, and unable to leave it with the others. Soon the +nearest proprietors began to ride up to the scene of murder +and desolation, armed to the teeth, but too late to +give any assistance. The bodies of the two convicts were +not found; many believed they had either gone off or +been carried off by the Indians. Being heartily sick of +America, I returned to Baltimore, where I did labouring +work for a few months, until I had got myself well +clothed; then agreed with the captain of a Greenock +vessel to work my passage to Scotland, where I arrived, +after an absence of two years and three months. Such +is an instance of the nefarious system of which I was a +victim.”</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE PARSONAGE:</h2> +<p class="center"><strong>MY FATHER’S FIRESIDE.</strong></p> + + +<p>After the lapse of about thirty years, I lately paid a visit +to what had once been my father’s fireside. It was in the +month of October that I visited the manse of Kirkhall. My +father had been minister of that parish; and I received a +kindly welcome from his worthy successor—one of the +warmest-hearted and most learned men in the Church of +Scotland, whom I have long known and esteemed as a +brother. I found myself again seated beside the hearth in +the little parlour which was once gladdened with a mother’s +smile—which was once cheered with the childish sports of +brothers and sisters—which was hallowed by the prayers +and presiding virtues of an affectionate father. They are +all departed to the land of spirits!</p> + +<p>Yet, on looking round me, every object seemed to assure +me that they were still near—for almost everything else +was unchanged. On looking through the window from the +elbow-chair in which I sat, the old and magnificent lime +tree, which, in the days of my youth, spread its branches +and foliage in wide luxuriance over the court, and gave +assurance of shade and shelter, was still unscathed. Its +sweet-scented flowers were indeed faded—for the breath of +approaching winter had touched its verdure; but its variegated +green and yellow leaves were the same as when I had +seen them, and attempted, with boyish hands, to imitate, +nearly half a century ago. A little farther off, the “decent +church” peered from among the majestic ash, elm, and +chestnut trees, with which it was surrounded—the growth +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +of centuries—casting a deep and solemn shadow over the +place of graves. The humble offices, and the corn-yard in +which I had rejoiced to mingle in rural occupations and +frolic, were near; and nothing was wanted to realize the +scenes of my youth, save the presence of the venerable +patriarch and my mother, and their little ones grouping +around their knees, or at the frugal board.</p> + +<p>But the illusion was short-lived. A holly tree, in the +adjoining parterre, caught my eye. When I knew it of old, +it was a little bush, in which the goldfinch and the linnet +nestled, and were protected under my juvenile guardianship; +but, now it had grown up to a stately tree. I saw, in the +mirror over the mantelpiece, the image of my own visage, +in which there were lines that time and the world’s cares +imprint on the smoothest brow and the most blooming cheek. +The yellow locks of my forehead were fled, and the few +remaining hairs were beginning to be silvered with grey. +My son, too, rising almost to manhood, stood up before me, +unconscious of the recollections and visions which flitted +through my mind. These things dispelled my reverie; and +my wandering thoughts were recalled to the realities of the +passing hour.</p> + +<p>It was on a Saturday evening that I thus revisited Kirkhall; +and my melancholy meditations were soon partially +dissipated by the cheerful, but moderate hospitalities of my +host; which were truly such as to make me feel that I was, +as it were, among mine own kindred, and at my <em>father’s +fireside</em>.</p> + +<p>What a flood of emotions and remembrances spring forth +at the mental utterance of these words! On retiring from +the parlour, I was ushered into what was, of old, denominated, +in the quaint colloquial language of Scotland, “The +Prophet’s Cham’er”—that is, the apartment for study, which +was to be found thus distinguished in all the old manses of +our clergy. It was now a bedroom, the library being +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +established in another apartment; and I laid my head upon +the pillow in a chamber which was consecrated, in my +memory, by the recollection that within its walls good men +had often thought of “the ways of God to man,” and prepared +their spirits, in the depths of silence and seclusion, +for proclaiming in the sanctuary the glad tidings of salvation.</p> + +<p>It was a tempestuous night; and, though the blast was +completely excluded from the manse by the dense masses +of trees with which it was surrounded, the wind howled +and moaned through their branches and on their summits, +and, like the thunder, gave forth a solemn music to the +soul. I did not sleep, but listened to the sounds of the +tempest with that pleasure which philosophy cannot explain. +Ere long, the current of thought reverted to my +own former relations, to the dwelling in which I reposed; +and busy memory, in the watches of the night, supplied, +with all the freshness of a recent event, the circumstances +which chequered the life and marked the character of my +father. Though, perhaps, in the estimation of many, these +were commonplace, yet, to me, they were still full of interest; +and, as they seem to afford a true and undistorted +picture of a Scottish clergyman’s real character and fortunes, +I have written them down to fill a spare corner in the <em>Tales +of the Borders</em>.</p> + +<p>William Douglas was the eldest son of a farmer in one of +the northern counties of Scotland. The family had been +tenants of the farm of Mains for five successive generations; +and, so far as tradition and the humble annals of the parish +could be relied on, had borne an unspotted name, and acquired +that hereditary character for worth, which, in their +humble station, maybe regarded as constituting the moral +nobility of human nature. Just and devout in their lives—sincere, +unpretending, and unaffected in their manners—they +were never spoken of but with respect and goodwill +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +by their neighbours; and were often, in the domestic and +rural affairs of the vicinity, the counsellors and umpires, +in whose good sense, and integrity, and kindness of heart, +their humble friends trusted with confidence. Such characters +and families are to be found in almost every rural +district of this country; for, “though grace gangs no’ by +generation, yet there is sic a thing as a hawk o’ a guid +nest.” I believe in the homely proverb, though some +metaphysicians may dispute it, but whether debatable or +not in the abstract, William Douglas had the good fortune, +as he deemed it, to grow up in the bosom of a family in +which the characteristic of worth was cherished and transmitted +as an heirloom.</p> + +<p>The eldest son of the guidman of Mains showed an early +fondness for his school exercises, and acquired, under the +tuition of <em>Roaring Jock</em>, the dominie of the parish, a tolerable +proficiency in the rudiments of literature. The guidman, +being an elder of the kirk, was often at the minister’s manse, +and the bairns from Mains were occasionally invited to tea +on the Saturdays and play-days; and Paplay, the minister, +(was so denominated, from the name of a small estate of +which he was the laird), showed great favour to the “auldest +callant,” and often conversed with him about the subject +of his reading. In these circumstances, and considering +the religious character of the Mains family, it was almost +a matter of course that Willie should be destined by his +parents, and prompted by his own predilections, to “the +ministry.” And, by the advice of Paplay and Roaring Jock, +Willie was sent to the Marischal College at Aberdeen, +where he gained a bursary at the competition, and prosecuted +his studies with assiduity, until, at length, in the +fulness of time, he became a licentiate of the church.</p> + +<p>The only thing I remember to have heard connected +with this period of my father’s life, was his anecdotes of +Paplay’s eccentricities, which were numerous—some of them +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +personal, and some of them the peculiarities of the old +school of clergy in Scotland. He was a pious and orthodox +man; but withal had a tincture of the Covenanter about +him, blended with the aristocratic and chivalrous feeling +of a country gentleman of old family. In the troubled +times, about the years 1745-6, he was a staunch Whig; +and so very decided in his politics, that, when “Prince +Charlie’s men” had the ascendancy in Scotland, he was +either in arms or in hiding; and when he ventured to +preach, he wore his sword in the pulpit, and a blue coat, +girt with a belt, in which a pair of pistols were hung—more +like a man of war than a preacher of peace! Even +after the defeat at Culloden, the Jacobitism of the north +was so strong, and Paplay was so obnoxious, by reason of his +vehement preaching against popery, and prelacy, and the +Pretender, that he continued long after to wear his sword +(in the pulpit and elsewhere), which was rather a formidable +concern to the nonjurors about him, in the hand of +a brave and athletic champion of true Whiggery. He +assigned three reasons for wearing his sword after it seemed +to some of his friends to be unnecessary:—“First, because +I am a gentleman; secondly, because I can use it; and, +thirdly, because, if you doubt, you may try.” Among some +of his oddities, he had a great admiration of a well-spring, +a white calf, and a bonny lass; and he never passed any of +them in his way without doing them homage. Though +travelling on horseback, he would dismount to bathe his +feet in a limpid stream, as it gushed from the earth, or to +caress a white calf, or to salute a female—all which fantasies +were united with the most primitive innocence. And +he never ate a meal, even in his own house, or when he +was a refugee in a hay stack or kiln barn, without exacting +from his wife and friends the most urgent <em>pressing</em>.</p> + +<p>It was under the auspices of this warlike and singular +apostle that my father was ushered into the sacred office of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +a minister of the gospel. He preached his first sermon in +the church of his native parish; and, according to the +fashion of the times, at the close of the service, the parish +minister publicly criticised the discourses of the day. The +young preacher, in this instance, found favour in Paplay’s +eyes; and his testimony in favour of the <em>plant</em> which had +sprung up among them was so emphatic, and rendered so +piquant by his odd figures of speech, that William Douglas +was long distinguished among his friends and neighbours +by the familiar designation of <em>Paplay’s Plant</em>.</p> + +<p>But there was another <em>plant</em> that graced the manse, +which was not unobserved or unadmired by the young +preacher—Jane Malcolm (the daughter of a clergyman in +a more remote parish, and niece of Paplay’s lady), a sweet +flower, that had grown up in the wilderness, like “a daisy +on the mountain’s side.” It was in the nature of things +that “the loves of the plants” should be illustrated by the +juxtaposition of the two favourite flowers of the chivalrous +parson. An affectionate but secret attachment naturally +grew out of the frequent visits which “Paplay’s Plant” paid +to the manse; and these were multiplied in consequence of +William Douglas being appointed assistant to his spiritual +patron, whose decline into the vale of years had begun to +abate the energy of his character, and to render assistance +necessary. The attachment between the young people +might be suspected, but was not formally made known to +Paplay and “the lady,” as she was called, according to the +courtesy of the olden time. Indeed, such a promulgation +would have been idle; for the “half-reverend” assistant (as +Paplay was wont to address the young probationers of the +church) had no immediate prospect of a benefice, although +he was an acceptable preacher, throughout the bounds of +the presbytery. But an incident occurred which facilitated +the union, of which the preliminaries were thus established.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +The Earl of Bellersdale,<a name="FNanchor_H_8" id="FNanchor_H_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_H_8" class="fnanchor">[H]</a> a nobleman in the neighbouring +county, who affected to be descended from an ancient +family that flourished in the days of good King Duncan, +but who had really no more connection with it than with +Hercules or the Man in the Moon, reared a village or sea-port +at a short but convenient distance from his magnificent +castle. Among the other items in the arrangements which +were destined to immortalise the munificence of the Earl +in the establishment of Bellerstown, a church was deemed +necessary for political, to say nothing of moral considerations; +and the earl, being a man of taste, thought that a +church, placed in a particular position, would make a fine +vista from various points in the noble park which surrounded +the Castle of Bellersdale. A picturesque chapel +was accordingly built on a rising knoll, separated from the +pleasure grounds and the castle by a river, over which a +handsome bridge made no mean addition to the lordly scene.</p> + +<p>The chapel being built, and endowed with a stipend of +“forty pounds a-year” (the hint, I suppose, was taken from +Oliver Goldsmith), it was necessary to provide a clergyman +to officiate in it; and William Douglas being one of the +most approved young men in the district, had the honour +to be preferred by the patron. The period to which I now +refer was long before the church, in its wisdom, enacted a +law for regulating chapels of ease; and not only the +amount of stipend, but the continuance of clergymen who +officiated in such chapels, depended on the arbitrary and +sovereign will of their pious founders. Bellerstown, though +a step in William Douglas’ professional progress, yielded +too scanty a revenue to admit of matrimony; but the +talents, respectability, and prepossessing manners of the +chaplain made him a favourite at the castle, and rendered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +it practicable to eke out the slender living by the addition +of a small farm, at what was called a moderate rent. But +this appendage, too, was held by the same precarious +tenure—Lord Bellersdale’s will. The probationer was +inducted as pastor of the Bellerstown chapel, according to +the rules of the church; and, after the lapse of a few +months, he and Miss Jane Malcolm thought—although no +other person thought—that they might venture to enter +into the holy bands of wedlock, and, with frugality and +mutual love in their household, look forward to happiness +in their humble and unambitious sphere of life. This +thought ended in deed—and they were married.</p> + +<p>The tenor of a clergyman’s life is, in general, even and +unvaried, consisting of a faithful and regular discharge of +his peculiar duties. Such, for some years, was the fate of +William Douglas. He acquired the confidence and affections +of his humble flock—the esteem of his brethren—the +countenance of the neighbouring gentry—and even the +patronage of the great man, at whose table he was a frequent +and welcomed guest. Mrs. Douglas had presented +him with two sons: and his parents, advanced in years, +were gathered to their fathers. This bereavement was not +unlooked for; but the first trial of life which wrung his +heart to the core, was a fatal illness which, in a few days, +snatched the object of his most tender affection from him.</p> + +<p>Time passed on, and “brought healing on its wings.” +After the lapse of several years, my father felt that it was +not meet for man to be alone; and, whilst he cherished +the fondest remembrance of his first domestic companion, +he had too much good sense to go into the affectation of +continuing single during the rest of his life “for her sake;” +more especially as he had no female relative to whom he +could confide the maternal charge of his boys in their nursery +days. He accordingly discerned, in the daughter of +one of his flock, a respectable farmer in the neighbourhood, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +those personal attractions and amiable dispositions which +awakened his manly sympathies; and, too high-minded to +stoop to mercenary considerations, he married a second +time, without hunting for a <em>tocher</em>, as is sometimes imputed +sarcastically to the Scottish clergy. Isobel Wilson was +lovely and virtuous.</p> + +<p>About the time the American war ended, I came into +this earthly part of the universe; but nothing occurred for +several years of my father’s life to diversify the peaceful +enjoyments of his domestic life, or to interrupt the conscientious +and zealous discharge of his pastoral duties. At +length, however, a cloud gathered in the firmament, which +ere long burst on his head, in the wrath of his patron, the +Earl of Bellersdale.</p> + +<p>Local, rather than general politics agitated the district in +which his humble life was cast; and there was a vehement +struggle betwixt his lordship and a neighbouring nobleman +for ascendancy in the county. The ranks of either party +were swelled by the multiplication of freehold qualifications, +for the purpose of acquiring votes. One of the expedients, +as is well known, for the attainment of such objects, is the +creation of nominal and fictitious voters, by conferring on +the <em>friends</em> of a political party an apparent, but not a real +interest in a landed estate; and this is practised and justified +by a legal fiction, and a little casuistry, with which +political agents are quite familiar. The ordinary mode in +these cases, is to confer such <em>parchment</em> franchises on dependents +and personal connections of the great man who +needs their support—and the Earl of Bellersdale, who had +the patronage of many churches of greater or less value, +found, even among the clergy who had hopes of preferment +from his hand, several individuals sufficiently unscrupulous +to accept of such discreditable titles to a political franchise +as freeholders.<a name="FNanchor_I_9" id="FNanchor_I_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_I_9" class="fnanchor">[I]</a> Amongst others, my father, who was in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +good odour at the castle, was deemed a <em>likely</em> person to be +intrusted with so precious a privilege as a right to vote for +any tool of the earl who might be brought forward as a +candidate for representing the shire in Parliament. The +factor was despatched to Bellerstown to offer this high behest +to the poor parson, whose ready compliance was expected, +<em>as a matter of course</em>. But he calmly and peremptorily +refused the proffered vote, and intimated that he held it +derogatory to the sacred nature of his office to pollute +himself with such politics, and inconsistent with every principle +of honour, morality, and religion, to take an oath, as +required by law, that he was possessed of a landed estate, +while, in truth, he had no earthly title to an inch of it. +This scrupulosity gave mortal offence at the castle; and the +recusant parson was doomed to ridicule as a pious fool, and +to ruin. And as, in such cases, when an offending individual +is completely dependent on the offended party, pretexts +are never wanting for cloaking the lurking purpose +of mischief: these were soon and easily discovered. If the +minister of Bellerstown discoursed on integrity and truth +as Christian virtues, or on the sacredness of an oath, the +earl’s underlings bore the tidings to the castle, where such +doctrine was deemed high treason against the electioneering +morality; and the faithful and fearless minister of religion +having rebuked, from the pulpit, some gross and public +enormities and violations of the Sabbath by the canvassers +for the earl’s candidate, within the precincts of his pastoral +charge, this was a sad and unpardonable aggravation of his +rebellion. Nay, having published a little tract on the duty +of attending public worship, of which he was the known +author, this was regarded as a direct personal insult to the +lord of the manor—because his lordship was so much +engrossed with politics and his other affairs, that he had, +for some time, ceased entirely to go to church. These little +incidents were aggravated by the perfidy of the parson of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +the parish within which Mr. Douglas’ chapel was situated. +That gentleman had formed a scheme for transferring his +residence from the ancient manse, in a remote part of the +parish, to the more populous and flourishing burgh of +barony of Bellerstown—intending to officiate himself in the +chapel (receiving, of course, the additional accommodation +applicable to that cure), and consigning the care of the +souls in the parish church to the schoolmaster—a preacher +whom he satisfied with a bonus of £10 or £12 a-year. +And for the accomplishment of this object, it was no difficult +thing, as matters stood, to ingratiate himself into the +patron’s favour, and to accomplish his own personal objects, +by whispering into the earl’s greedy ear every remark that +would suit his purpose, made by Mr. Douglas, in the most +unbounded confidence of private intercourse and seeming +friendship.</p> + +<p>When the wrath which had accumulated in the heart of +the earl was fanned to its height, he issued his orders to +the factor in the following decree:—“Rackrent—<em>Us</em>”—(a +grammatical singularity which his lordship always used, +surpassing even the royal or editorial majesty, indicated +by the first person plural)—“<em>Us</em> is determined to root out +that rebellious fellow Douglas, and to banish him from our +grounds. Rackrent, order Spulzie, the scribe, instantly to +serve the fellow with a summons of removing from Stablebarns; +and, do you hear, go to Bellerstown, lock and nail +up the chapel door, and tell the fellow that he shall never +preach there again against <em>us</em>. Tell him to go to the devil, +as <em>us</em> will not suffer rebels against our will.”</p> + +<p>This mandate was instantly obeyed. Mr. Douglas received +the intimation from Rackrent with surprise, but +undismayed; and, his “courage swelling as the danger +swells,” he accepted the intimation as a testimony to his +fidelity, and pitied the tyrant who had thus abused his +authority. The earl had the uncontrolled power—there +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +was no appeal from his heartless decree. Rackrent speedily +promulgated in the burgh the purport of his mission, and +ostentatiously performed his task of shutting up the chapel—putting +the key in his pocket. Consternation, and sympathy +with their “ain guid minister and his wife and bairns,” +spread from house to house; and it was not till the shadow +of night afforded shelter from observation, that even a few +true friends mustered courage to venture into the house of a +proscribed man, and to cheer him with their condolence.</p> + +<p>Mr. Douglas had an instinctive courage, which prompted +him to bear Rackrent’s message without a quiver on his +countenance, save perhaps a momentary expression of scorn +on his lip, and a sparkle of indignation in his keen blue +eye. But, after the minion of power had retired, and he +felt himself alone, a cold and chilling emotion gathered +round his heart. He went immediately to the nursery, +where his wife was busied in tending and amusing her +children; and having desired Grace Grant (our attached +and only servant, who never was in any other service) to +look after her matters in the kitchen, he communicated to +his dear Isobel, that she and her little ones were thrown +destitute. I was too young (being only four or five years +of age at the time) to understand the import of what he +said. But my mother and the elder children knew it well; +and I need not describe the scene. The tears which a brave +man sheds are only those of tenderness and affection—but +these are, indeed, tears of bitterness. Such scenes of love +and agony are too sacred to be disclosed to an unfeeling +world; and all I remember of the one now alluded to, was, +that my heart was like to break when I saw those around +me embracing and embraced, in tears and in silence, save +the sounds of sobs which burst from every bosom.</p> + +<p>It was a day of sorrow. Even the youngsters forgot, for +a time, that they required their wonted frugal dinner; and +it was not until twilight succeeded the last blaze of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +setting sun, that Grace Grant called her mistress from the +nursery (having heard from a neighbour the adversity +which had befallen), to remind her that tea was ready. My +mother was now much composed, and invited the minister +to go to the parlour. It was a silent procession. My eldest +brother carried me in his arms; and my father led his wife +in one hand, while he bore their younger babe on his other +arm. On reaching the parlour, we found tea prepared by +the careful hands of Grace Grant; but, before sitting down +to partake of that comforting refreshment, the minister +proposed to offer up a prayer of resignation to the will of +God, and of hope and trust in his providence.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“Then kneeling down to Heaven’s eternal King,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The saint, the father, and the husband prays:</span><br /> + Hope ‘springs exulting on triumphant wing,’<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">That thus they all shall meet in future days;</span><br /> + There, ever bask in uncreated rays,<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear;</span><br /> + Together hymning their Creator’s praise—<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">In such society yet still more dear,</span><br /> + While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.”</p> + +<p>These devout aspirations being ended, an air of calm +composure reigned around my “Father’s Fireside.” He +seated himself in his arm-chair, while my mother busied +herself in preparing tea, and each little one took his appointed +place around the oval wainscot table. The turf +fire burned cheerily on the hearth. The tea-kettle gave +out its hissing sounds, indicative of comfort; and the solitary +candle diffused light on the fair young faces which +brightened as the oat-cake and the “buttered pieces” began +to disappear. But the minister’s wonted playfulness was +gone; and the decent silence of a Sabbath afternoon was +observed even by the younger boys.</p> + +<p>The visits of their friends were a solace in the first hour +of their unlooked-for adversity. But, after their retirement +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +the vague, undefined, and gloomy shadows which rose to +the contemplation of my parents, with respect to their +future prospects, yielded only a troubled and unutterable +anxiety. Repining and supineness, however, were not +suited to my father’s character; for, with mildness, he +united decision and even boldness of spirit. He had, for +several years previous to this explosion of lordly despotism +in the patron of his chapel, corresponded with some of his +college friends in the new Republic of America; and had +been encouraged by them, and through them, by one of +the most distinguished of the American patriots, to leave +his meagre benefice and cross the Atlantic. These invitations +he had declined; being warmly attached to his flock, +to the Established Church of Scotland, to his friends at +home, and to his country. In his altered circumstances, +however—severed as he was by an arbitrary act over which +there was no moral or legal control, cast destitute from the +altar at which he had ministered with usefulness and acceptance, +and having no claims to immediate patronage in +the church—he resolved, with a heavy heart, to betake +himself to that field of exertion in a foreign land to which +he had been so courteously invited. Having adopted this +resolution, he did not waste time in idle whining, but prepared +to encounter all the inconveniences and perils of a +long voyage across the deep; aggravated, unspeakably, by +the accompaniments of a wife and six young children, and +hampered by the scanty means which remained to him +amidst this wreck of his hopes of happiness at home.</p> + +<p>But before his final departure from the cold and rocky +shore of Scotland for ever, he wished to take a public leave +of his flock. His own chapel had been shut up; but a +reverend friend, in a closely adjoining burgh, acceded at +once to his request, that he might have the use of his pulpit +on the Sunday after the act of ejection which I have already +mentioned. The villagers of Bellerstown were speedily +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +apprised of their minister’s intention; and they and many +others attended to hear his farewell sermon. The church +was crowded with an affectionate and even somewhat exasperated +multitude, and the service of the day was characterised +by a more than usual solemnity. All the energy +of the preacher’s spirit was called up to sustain him on so +trying an occasion; and the unaffected, earnest, and native +eloquence of his pulpit appearances, were heightened by the +emotions which struggled within his bosom.</p> + +<p>His brief but christianlike and dignified address, in +which the tremulous voice of deep emotion was occasionally +mingled with the manly tones of bolder elocution, was +listened to in silence deep as death; and when he descended +from the pulpit, Mr. Douglas was surrounded by a throng +of elders, and young men, and humble matrons, who were +eager to manifest their heartfelt reverence for their beloved +pastor.</p> + +<p>It were tedious and profitless to detail all the painful +circumstances which intervened betwixt the time now +referred to and that of the minister’s embarkation. He +experienced, on the one hand, all the petty vexations which +the earl’s sycophants could devise for his annoyance—and, +on the other, much of that comfort which springs from +spontaneous tokens of disinterested goodwill and of gratitude, +even from the poor and humble; but the <em>mens conscia +sibi recti</em> enabled him to bear the former with composure, +and the latter without vain presumption.</p> + +<p>The day of departure at length arrived—and, young as +I was, I still remember as well as yesterday some of the +circumstances. The family proceeded from the only home +I had ever known, towards the harbour, accompanied by +some of the most respectable inhabitants of the village.</p> + +<p>After passing by the chapel, which stood conspicuously +on a rising ground, the party descended a steep road—like +a patriarch of old going on a pilgrimage through the world, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +with his children around him—to the quay at which the +vessel that was to bear us away was moored. The sea +beach and quays were crowded. The entire population of +the burgh seemed assembled. There were no shouts; but +uncovered heads, and outstretched hands, and old visages +glistening with tears of kindness, spoke a language more +eloquent than words can utter. I was carried with my +mother on board the ship. The sails were unfurled, while +we were grouped on the quarter-deck. Most of the family +went into the cabin; but my father sat on a coil of ropes, +and I stood between his knees, encircled by his arm, and +looking up in his face, which was occasionally convulsed +with marks of strong but suppressed feeling. The vessel +bounded over the waves of the German Ocean. My father +spake not. His eye was still bent on the rocky cliffs (near +which stood his church and dwelling of peace), after it +could not discern the people that clustered on their summits. +He wrapped me in his cloak, and held me to his +bosom; and, for the first time, I felt a sad consciousness +that I was without a home in the world.</p> + +<p>My first voyage in life was a rough one. The “Good +Intent” of Bellerstown, in which my father and his family +had embarked, as already stated, was a coasting trader, and +was bound on this occasion for Leith, whence the patriarch +of this intended emigration, and his partner, and little ones, +were meant to be transferred to Greenock, as the port of +final embarkation for the United States. To those who have +had occasion to sojourn in such bottoms as the “Good Intent,” +ere yet the Berwick smacks and other vessels of a superior +class had been established in the coasting trade of Scotland, +it is needless to offer any description of such a vehicle for +the conveyance of human beings—and those who have never +experienced such a transit, can form no adequate conception +of the misery which it exhibits. Let them, however, +imagine a small and dirty cabin, into which no one is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +admitted save by the companion-door and a small sky-light +that cannot be opened in rough weather—let them imagine, +if they can, the “villanous compound of smells,” produced +by confined air, the flavour of bilge water, agitated in the +hold of the ship, and diffused through every creaking +crevice, and pitch, and effluvia of rancid salt meat and +broth, and the products of universal sea-sickness, altogether +inevitable in such circumstances—let them figure such a +confined hole filled with human beings, crammed into +smaller holes all around, called beds, or laid on shakedowns +upon the floor, or stretched upon the lockers, in +that state of despondency which overwhelming sickness induces;—and +they have a picture of the Good Intent’s cabin +and <em>state-room</em> during the voyage to which I refer. Nor +was this all. The weather was boisterous, being the vernal +equinox; the winds cross and tempestuous; and the waves +of the sea so tremendous that the little vessel sunk, and +rose, and rolled, as if each succeeding shock were the last +ere she sank for ever into the roaring abyss; while each +convulsion of the bark called forth involuntary moans and +shrieks of distress, which were heard commingled with the +whistling of the tempest, and the dash of the waves, that +ever and anon burst on and swept over the deck. And +thus, for the space of fourteen days went the Good Intent +and her inmates, tossed to and fro on the German Ocean, +with no comfort to mitigate the extreme of such unwonted +sufferings, save the rough but hearty kindness of the skipper +and crew, when their cares on deck left them a moment to +go below, and offer any attention in their power. I have +made many rough voyages since the time alluded to; but +this one dwells on my memory like the visions in a wild +and troubled dream, surpassing all I have since weathered +in intensity of horror and dismay.</p> + +<p>At length, the expected haven came in sight; and we +entered it—safe but sad enough, the Good Intent entered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +the Water of Leith at morning tide, and my childish wonderment +was strangely excited by what seemed to my inexperienced +eye a forest of masts and “leviathans afloat,” +as we were towed through among the vessels in harbour, +until, amidst bawling and swearing on board and ashore, +the Good Intent got a berth at the Coalhill of Leith. +The emigrant party were all speedily taken on shore, and +conveyed to a small inn, where soap and water, and clean +clothes, and breakfast, revived, in no inconsiderable degree, +the spirits of the whole party, after the exhaustion of such +a voyage: and the youngsters, especially, were very speedily +interested in the rude bustle which the shore of Leith +usually exhibits.</p> + +<p>Leaving the little colony at Mrs. Monro’s ship tavern, on +the Coalhill, my father proceeded to the dwelling of his +cousin, Mr. Pearson, who resided in one of the western +suburbs of Edinburgh (where he and his were expected), +in order to announce the advent to a temporary home. It +was after noon ere he returned with his cousin to conduct +the rest of the family; and the whole party proceeded on +foot up Leith Walk, and through a part of Edinburgh, +towards Mr. Pearson’s hospitable abode, astonished and bewildered +in a scene so new. There we all received a warm +welcome from the good old man and his daughters, and +experienced every attention and kindness which good +hearts and the ties of kindred could suggest.</p> + +<p>Before proceeding to Greenock, to make the necessary +arrangements for the final emigration, Mr. Douglas, while +his family were refreshing with their relatives for a longer +voyage than they had already encountered, paid a visit to +an old friend, a clergyman in the country, in whose parish +was situated the noble mansion of Earl H——. The countess +of H—— was a relative of Lady B——, to whom Mr. +Douglas had long been known as an exemplary clergyman, +and who, in the day of his adversity and unmerited persecution, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +had taken a lively interest in his fate. Amongst +other acts of kindness, she had not only given him an introductory +letter to the countess of H——, but had written previously, +recommending him earnestly to her good offices +with the earl (who was, in all respects, a complete contrast +to Lord Bellersdale), and soliciting some one of the numerous +benefices in the church of which the earl was patron, +when a vacancy might occur. Mr. Douglas visited his friend +before delivering his introduction at the great house, and +preached on the Sabbath which intervened during his stay: +and the services of the day having been conducted with +that simple and unfeigned devoutness which lends its +highest power to pulpit eloquence, the noble family, who +regularly attended on religious ordinances in their parish +church, were much affected and gratified with the ministration +of the stranger on this occasion; and this effect was +not marred to “ears polite,” even by the slight “accents +of the northern tongue.” Next morning, the pastor of the +parish received an invitation to dine at H—— House that +day, and was requested to bring along with him the friend +who had officiated for him on the preceding Sunday. The +invitation was, of course, accepted; and, on being introduced +to the earl and countess of H——, and his name +being announced, Lady H—— inquired if he were of the +north country, when he took the opportunity of delivering +Lady B.’s introductory letter, which showed that Mr. +Douglas was the same person of whom Lady B. had previously +written. His reception by both the noble personages +of the mansion was more than polite; it was kind in the +highest degree, and every way worthy of a generous and +high-minded race, whose good qualities have, in various +periods of our history, given lustre to the nobility of Scotland. +The day was spent with mutual satisfaction; and +the earl, before parting, gave Mr. Douglas a cordial shake +by the hand, and assured him that the first benefice that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +should fall in his gift, should be conferred on him. Thus +they parted; but Mr. Douglas returned to Mr. Pearson’s, +with the unaltered purpose of pursuing his voyage to +America—the hopes inspired by the earl’s spontaneous +promise being too faint and remote, in their possible accomplishment, +to induce procrastination in his proceedings. +The love of his native country yearned in his bosom, and +all the perils and privations to which his little fireside-flock +might be exposed, passed through his thoughts as he +drove along the southern shore of the Forth, on his return; +but he could see no immediate alternative, save to go onward +in the path which he had previously chalked out for +himself in his present circumstances.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, after a few days’ repose, he set out to +Greenock, to make arrangements for the passage to New +York of himself and family. He applied to an eminent +merchant there on the subject, in whose service, as a clerk, +a favourite brother had lived and died. From that gentleman +he received every courtesy and counsel suited to the +occasion, and was offered the passage contemplated gratuitously. +He had spent a day or two only in Greenock, +making preparations for the voyage, when, having gone +into the vessel in which he was destined to embark, to hold +some necessary consultation with the master, a packet was +brought to him which had been forwarded by Mr. Pearson +to the care of Mr. B. the merchant. On unsealing it, Mr. +Douglas found inclosed a presentation in his favour, by +the Earl of H., to a living in one of the southern counties +of Scotland!</p> + +<p>It were idle in any one who has never experienced a sudden +and unexpected transition in the endless vicissitudes of +human life—from a position encompassed with doubts and +darkness, into scenes and prospects of brighter omen—to +attempt any delineation of Mr. Douglas’ emotions on this +occasion; for, who can express in language the throb of gratitude +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +to benefactors, which, in such circumstances, swells the +heart beyond the power of utterance?—or who can convey +any adequate notion of the devout and silent thankfulness +which exalts the soul of a good man, when he sees and feels, +in such an event, the manifestation of that overruling +Providence which it is his habitual principle to acknowledge +and adore?</p> + +<p>The American expedition was now abandoned, and Mr. +Douglas returned from Greenock to Edinburgh, with all +the despatch which the <em>Flies</em> of those days rendered practicable. +The tidings were soon told, not with proud exultation, +but with the chastened gladness which these were +calculated to impress on his own spirit and all around him; +and, instead of packing up for Greenock, and preparing +for crossing the wide Atlantic, nothing was now talked of +in Pearson’s kind circle but <em>plenishing</em> for the manse.</p> + +<p>The day of departure at length arrived, ere yet the +young folks had recovered from the astonishment which +everything in the northern metropolis presented to them as +wonders, and before they had become familiar with the +splendours of long rows of lamps, and dazzling scattered +lights over the dusky horizon of the “Auld Toun” in an +evening. One of the most startling of these marvels, I well +remember, was the Cowgate, with its rows of lamps extending +beneath the South Bridge, and seen through the iron +balustrades! This was perfect enchantment to some of us; +and I don’t believe I have ever seen any scene of artificial +magnificence, since I first looked down on the Cowgate, that +made so strong an impression on me, as a specimen of city +grandeur!</p> + +<p>The vehicle for our conveyance was not, as in these +latter days, a dashing stage-coach and four—for there was +nothing of the kind on the public roads of Scotland fifty +years ago—but a caravan or wagon, having a sort of rail +round three sides of it, and covered overhead with a canvas +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +cloth on strong hoops, with an aperture behind to let in +the travellers, and the fresh air, and the light. Under this +primitive pavilion sat ensconced the parson and spouse on +trusses of straw, and with blankets to keep warmth, if necessary—the +bairns being all packed in and about them, +according to their dimensions; and in this fashion on jogged +the cavalcade, consisting of the caravan, and another long +cart with furniture. Two or three days were required for +the journey—the carriers stopping each night at convenient +distances in country inns for the “entertainment of men +and horses,” where slight and rough accommodation only +was to be had.</p> + +<p>At length, on the third day, the caravansary reached the +promised land—not like that in the Orient, flowing with +milk and honey, and glowing in all the richness of natural +beauty; but a long straggling village of heath-thatched +cottages, with about half-a-dozen slated houses, including +the kirk; and, though placed in a valley, on the banks of +a rivulet, yet surrounded on all sides for many miles with +the wildest moorlands in one of the most elevated situations +inhabited in Scotland by human beings. But, what +of all this? It afforded a <em>home</em> in our native land—and +we soon learnt by experience that its inhabitants were +among the most kind-hearted and intelligent of the sons of +Caledonia.</p> + +<p>The humble parsonage of Muirden was but a chapel of +ease, yielding an income under one hundred pounds per +annum. Yet, with this limited benefice, the Rev. William +Douglas was enabled, by the frugal housewifery of the mistress, +to maintain a decent, and, in his sphere, even a +hospitable household, and to discharge the petty obligations +to friends which he had incurred while “out of bread,” +and preparing to cross the deep to a foreign land. Until +this last, and, in his estimation, sacred duty was accomplished, +the strictest economy was observed. The “muckle +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +wheel” and the “little wheel” were heard humming incessantly +in the kitchen; and the bairns were clad in the good +home-made cloths of the domicile; while they were early +taught practically that plain and wholesome, though humble +fare at the board, was all that they ought to desire, and +that luxuries and delicacies, such as load “the rich man’s +table,” were truly a matter of small moment, and utterly +despicable when compared with those luxuries of the mind, +and that superiority of character, which are derived from +moral and intellectual culture. These latter, accordingly, +were day by day pressed on their attention as the proper +business of their early life—and all were habituated to +regular and constant attention to their “lessons,” at home +as well as in school.</p> + +<p>Nor was this remote parsonage destitute of some strong +and interesting attractions to a generous mind. Muirden +was situated in a region which is consecrated by many +events and traditions of “the persecuted times.” There +are hill-sides and moss-hags in its vicinity, still known to +the peasant as the places of worship and of refuge to the +Covenanters in days of peril and alarm; and some of +Scotland’s martyrs were immolated at the doors of their +own huts, the foundation of which may still be traced, +overgrown with the green turf or the heather-bell. To a +Scottish pastor such scenes are classic, grand even in a +higher sense than those of Marathon or Thermopylæ—for +it was the immutable and holy spirit which was there +kindled, and formed into a flame, that finally won for +Scotland not only the blessings of civil liberty, but the +triumphs of religious truth.</p> + +<p>It was an inspiriting task to serve at the altar among a +people who, though humble, cherished with fondness the +memory of their godly forefathers; and was, indeed, a +labour of love, in which the teacher and the taught found +mutual comfort and advantage. Nor were the exercises of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +the pulpit the only parts of pastoral duty to which Mr. +Douglas directed his attention and his heart. He visited +and soon became acquainted with all his flock—not formally +and pompously, but frankly and in unaffected kindness; +and ere long became the friend and trusted counsellor of +his parishioners, not merely in spiritual, but in their temporal +concerns. And, as a proof of the impression which +such a truly evangelical course of conduct made among his +people, I may state that, within these few years, after the +lapse of nearly fifty, I had a call from a respectable old +man, who, having heard I was in Edinburgh, had found +me out, and announced himself to be Mr. ——, who had +taught me the alphabet, and first guided my hand to wield +the pen which now records this incident. I have rarely +met with an occurrence more gratifying to my feelings, +than when the old gentleman (for he was a gentleman in +the best sense of the term, though a country schoolmaster) +told me that years had not effaced from his heart and his +memory the kindly affection which he bore to my father +and all his children, who were the objects of his careful +tuition, and that he had sought and found me to give +utterance to that feeling. I need not say he got a warm +welcome. He had then retired from the laborious duties +of his office, with a moderate competency, and in a green old +age. He has since paid the debt of nature. Peace to his +ashes! It would be well if our parochial clergy would thus +cultivate, not the vulgar arts of wordly popularity, but, by +acts of real kindness, the confidence and the respect of their +flocks. It is thus that the human heart is to be won; and +it is thus that a Christian pastor most effectually</p> + +<p class="center"> +“Allures to brighter realms, and leads the way.”</p> + +<p>There was a peculiarity in the village of Muirden which +I must not omit to notice. It was, perhaps, the first locality +in Scotland, so entirely rural, that had a library established +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +in it. I do not know precisely the history of that institution; +but its supporters were the general community of the place, +who were, in different grades, employed chiefly in the working +of some mines in the vicinity, who devoted a small portion +of their wages, periodically, for the purchase of books +for the library. The fruits of this establishment were +visible in the decent and orderly habits, and in the superior +information of the whole population; presenting a +moral picture exactly the reverse of that which too often +characterises the now liberated <em>ascripti glebæ</em> who are +usually engaged in such occupations, and who are proverbially +the most barbarous and ignorant class of the +community of Scotland—thus furnishing an example, which +is now become pretty general, of supplying an interesting +and improving employment of the hours of relaxation from +labour, instead of misspending the precious intervals at the +alehouse or other houses of debauchery.</p> + +<p>The village of Muirden, too, had the advantage of a resident +country gentleman in its immediate neighbourhood—Mr. +Sterling. Such an auxiliary to the clergyman and +schoolmaster in a rural district, is generally of unspeakable +advantage to the moral condition of the locality, more +especially when, as in this instance, he was a man everyway +worthy of his rank and position in society. He possessed +an estate of his own in one of the most beautiful provinces +in Scotland; but, being a man distinguished in science, he +had a general supervision of the works to which I have +alluded; and, being thus clothed with authority, as well as +a magistrate in the county, he was ever ready to co-operate +in every measure which was beneficial, and in the repression +of whatever was pernicious, in this little colony. The +society and friendly intercourse which naturally arose betwixt +such a country gentleman and the pastor, formed no +slight addition to the enjoyments of the latter, in a sphere +shut out by its position from much personal intercourse +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +with well-educated men; and, in short, amid mountain +and moor all around, Muirden presented one of the most +pleasing pictures that this country affords of a rural +parsonage.</p> + +<p>Mr. Douglas’ zealous and faithful discharge of his pastoral +duties did not remain unknown to his noble patron. From +the time, indeed, of his induction at Muirden, the moral +movements of that hamlet were occasionally reported by its +guardian, Mr. Sterling, to the family that was interested in +its prosperity; and the unremitting but unobtrusive ministrations +of the village pastor were not of course overlooked. +These were duly appreciated; and, after the lapse of only +two or three years, the Earl of H—— spontaneously, and +without any previous communication, presented Mr. Douglas +to the benefice of Eccleshall, which had fallen vacant by the +demise of its minister. This change had the double advantage +of being on the regular establishment of the church, +beyond the risk of any such casualty as had formerly +befallen the presentee, and of having a stipend nearly double +the salary at Muirden—a consideration of no slight moment +to a man with a family, however moderate in his views with +regard to temporalities; and it possessed the further superiority +over Muirden, that it was situated on the southern +shore of the Firth of Forth, in a district of country highly +cultivated, and within a few hours’ ride of the metropolis. +It had the charm of the most perfect seclusion from the +great and bustling world—the church and manse being +situated in a sheltered valley, embosomed amidst a cluster +of ancient trees, which probably were planted ere the +Reformation dawned in Scotland.</p> + +<p>The tidings of this promotion, as it may be deemed, +produced, in the humble dwelling of the pastor of Muirden, +that measure of gladness which is inspired by the smiles of +fortune—varying in degree among the different members +of the family according to their intelligence and their years. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +To the heads of it, the promised improvement in their condition +afforded the calm, yet exquisite satisfaction which +the prospect of a competence for their little ones, and the +means of educating and preparing them to act their part in +life, naturally awakens; and in the younger members of it, +the reported beauties of the new parish, and the approach +of a new journey, excited that joyousness and vivacity of +hope which even invests what is unknown with the attribute +of magnificence.</p> + +<p>After a little while devoted to necessary arrangements—after +many visits paid to all the dwellings of the humble +flock of Muirden—after the interchange of kindly hospitalities +among the superior classes of his neighbours—and +after a public and affectionate farewell to all—Mr. Douglas +once more set out with his family on this, his last migration; +and, with the aid of caravan and cart, the family +party went on their way from Muirden to Edinburgh, +retracing thus far their steps, on their journey to Eccleshall; +and, in a few days, they were set down in the court +before the manse of Eccleshall, over which two stately lime +trees formed a cooling shade from the fervours of a summer +sun.</p> + +<p>Whether the reality corresponded with the several anticipations +of the new comers or not, I will not pretend to +affirm; but the arrival had scarcely been accomplished, ere +every room and recess of the manse was explored, and the +neat and beautiful gardens were traversed, and the glebe +surveyed, and the “bonny burnside” visited, and the water +laved from its channel. It was, in truth, a new world to +its young visitants—and appeared, in the superior house +accommodation and rural amenity around, a terrestrial +paradise, contrasted with the circumscribed dwelling on +the rocky shore of the German Ocean in the north, or in +the hamlet of Muirden amid the wilderness on the southern +border of Scotland. The sensations and sympathies of that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +day, and of seven years which followed it, are yet fresh in +my recollection, and still swell in my heart, as marking the +brightest and the happiest period of my existence. Everything +connected with that season of my life, is still invested +in my memory with charms which I have never since +tasted; and my young imagination clothed the vale of +Eccleshall with a brighter verdure and gayer flowers than +ever to me bloomed elsewhere on earth; and the heaven +glowed in more resplendent sunshine than has ever since +poured its golden radiance on my vision—for it was the +sunshine of the young spirit still unclouded by a speck on +its moral horizon, and undimmed by a tear of real suffering +and sorrow. Are such youthful enchantments realities in +the condition of man? or are they visions of fancy, which +are kindled by a gracious dispensation of Providence, as a +solace to the heart in riper years, when the cares, and toils, +and anxieties of manhood are strewed thick in our path, and +frown heavily in clouds over every stage of our progress?</p> + +<p>In a few days after the house was put in order, the +induction of Mr. Douglas took place; and, although not so +impressive as a Presbyterian ordination, it was to all, his +own family at least, an interesting scene. A numerous +assemblage of the parishioners and the reverend brethren +was convened; and the arrival of the latter, successively +or in groups—their friendly greetings in the parlour, their +progress to the church, and their solemn devoir during the +service of the day—bore a character of dignity and impressiveness +which does not now generally belong to such ceremonials. +It may, perhaps, be unphilosophical, and not in +accordance with more modern sentiment, to ascribe any +efficacy to mere externals of costume. But it is a principle +deeply implanted in human nature, and not to be stifled +by any cold reasoning in the matter, that external decorum +and suitable habiliments in any of the solemnities of religion +and the administration of justice, have a powerful +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +effect on the great mass of mankind, which it is not wise +to cast aside or contemn.</p> + +<p>It were an easy, and would be a pleasant task, to paint +some of the scenes and characters which presented themselves +to my observation even at that early period of life; +but it would be foreign to the object I had in view, and +would swell this humble narrative beyond the limits assigned +to it. That object was merely to delineate some of the +features in the character of a faithful Scottish clergyman, +and to exhibit some of the “lights and shadows” which +cheer or cloud his existence, like that of other men. I have +traced his progress through various alternations of adversity +and prosperity, and have placed him in circumstances such +as usually fill up the measure of a Christian’s ambition—a +position of usefulness to those within the sphere of his influence, +and of comfort in his temporal condition. During the +space of seven years, it was the lot of the individual who, +in real life, was the prototype of our story, to enjoy health, +and strength, and domestic felicity, and to discharge his +duties with zeal and advantage in the parish of Eccleshall; +but, returning home after nightfall, from attending a meeting +of synod in Edinburgh, he caught a severe cold in +riding during a stormy night, which affected his lungs; +and, ere long, his indisposition assumed all the symptoms +of pulmonary consumption.</p> + +<p>Our tale of humble life now draws to a close. In the +course of a few months, the indisposition of Mr. Douglas +assumed all the symptoms of a settled consumption, which +continued to present to his family and friends the alternations +of hope and of fear, that are the unfailing companions +of that subtle visitation. A sea voyage, native air, and all +other expedients suggested by skill or affection, were tried +in vain; and, in the fiftieth year of his age, the minister of +Eccleshall returned to the bosom of his family, with a full +anticipation that the distemper under which he lingered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +would, ere long, prove fatal. His eyes sparkled with more +than wonted lustre—his benevolent and intelligent countenance +glowed with the delicate hectic flush which so often +marks the progress of consumption—and the healthy, but +not robust frame of its victim, became emaciated and feeble. +The fall of the year 179-, brought the chilling blasts of +November to quench the flickering spark of life in his +bosom.</p> + +<p>I was despatched one cold morning on the pony for Mr. +Blythe, a neighbouring clergyman and friend, to pay my +father a visit. We rode together from his manse to Eccleshall; +and, on his arrival, he remained alone with my +father, engaged in those hallowed communings betwixt a +dying man and his spiritual comforter which it is unseemly +and sacrilegious in any case to disclose to mortal eyes. +After a considerable space thus spent, the whole family, +including the servants, were, by my father’s directions, +summoned to the side of his couch, in the Red Room, +where he reposed. When all were assembled, he intimated, +with composure and resignation, that he was conscious of +the near approach of death, and addressed a few sentences +of admonition and affection to them all; and, having done +so, he requested Mr. Blythe to unite with his household in +prayer and praise—requesting that the last hymn in the +beautiful collection of sacred lyrics attached to our national +psalmody, might be sung. My father’s pulpit psalm-book +was brought to Mr. Blythe. It is now before me, and I +transcribe, from its page, with a vivid recollection of the +scene now referred to, one of the solemn stanzas of that +touching anthem:—</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“The hour of my departure’s come,</span><br /> + I hear the voice that calls me home;<br /> + At last, O Lord! let troubles cease,<br /> + And let thy servant die in peace!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Blythe breathed, rather than sung the hymn, in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +the notes of Luther’s hundredth psalm; and he did it with +the accompaniment of tremulous and broken accents from +all around the couch. The tears of unutterable sorrow were +shed by all, save my mother, whose grief could not find a +vent in tears. The voice of psalms was quenched amid the +sobs which burst from every heart; and, during the singing +of the last portion of it, the pious man who guided these +orisons, sympathized so deeply in the passion of lamentation +which encompassed him, that his accents were scarcely +audible. The overpowering scene was closed by a brief and +pathetic prayer to the Most High, that to His dying servant +he would “stretch out His everlasting arms,” and “to the +friendless prove a friend.”</p> + +<p>A few hours more, and the scene of life had passed away +from the mortal vision of William Douglas. I saw him die. +It was the first deathbed I had ever seen. There are many +occurrences in life which fill the mind with awe; but I +have never been conscious of any emotion so profound and +solemn as that which possessed me during the last day of my +father’s life. I witnessed the expiring flame in those dread +moments when time is blent with eternity, and when the +last sigh seems to waft the immortal spirit into a state of +existence of which no adequate conception can be formed. +After all was over, and the breath of life had fled, I could +not believe my senses, that the prop of my affections was +gone from my love and my embrace, and that all which remained +on earth of my father, protector, and gentle monitor, +was a lifeless wreck on the shore of time. The world +appeared to my young eye and heart as a wide scene of +mere darkness and desolation.</p> + +<p>I will not dwell on subsequent events. The funeral +obsequies performed, the family councils were of a melancholy +description. As to worldly matters, it was ascertained +that there was very little debt—not more than could be +fully paid by the current stipend and other limited means; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +but, beyond this, all was a dreary blank. The only means +of subsistence to which my widowed mother could look +with certainty, was her small annuity of £25 a-year; while +one only of the family (the eldest boy, who had been educated +as a surgeon, and had got an appointment in the East +India Company’s service) could do ought to eke out the +means of life for the family. In the depth of her affliction, +she would say, with pious confidence, in the language of +scripture, “I have never seen the righteous man forsaken, +or his seed begging their bread.”</p> + +<p>But, leaving these painful retrospects, it may not be inappropriate +to note briefly the career of the earl of Bellersdale, +whom I had occasion to advert to in the earlier part +of this story. He survived my father many years, and spent +his life devoid of domestic happiness or public respect, in +the accumulation of wealth and the pursuits of sordid +ambition. He lived detested and despised of mankind; +and, dying unlamented by any one human being, he destined +the vast treasures which he had amassed, to constant accumulation, +not to be enjoyed fully by his heirs, but for the +creation of a princedom of indefinite extent and wealth. +But the honours of the Bellersdale family were speedily +tarnished. A spendthrift successor squandered all the revenues +which he could touch; and the last time I visited that +part of the country, the splendid mansion of Bellersdale +Castle was stripped of all its movables; the collections of +many years of aristocratic pride—the pictures, the statues, +the very board destined for baronial hospitality—were all +brought to the hammer for payment of a tailor’s bill for +gewgaws to grace a court pageant; and the nominal inheritor +of the wide domains and honours of his lordship’s +house, is an obscure and useless, though good-natured +dependent upon Hebrew usurers and Gentile pettifoggers—a +mere cumberer of the ground—a sycophant of the vulgar!</p> + +<p>I need not point the moral of my tale.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SEERS’ CAVE.</h2> + +<div class="box"> +<p style="margin-left: 12em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“The desert gave him visions wild—</span><br /> + The midnight wind came wild and dread,<br /> + Swell’d with the voices of the dead;<br /> + Far on the future battle-heath<br /> + His eye beheld the ranks of death:<br /> + Thus the lone seer, from mankind hurl’d,<br /> + Shap’d forth a disembodied world.”<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 15em;" class="smcap">Scott.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>In a certain wild and romantic glen in the Highlands of +Scotland, there is a cave opening beneath the brow of a +huge overhanging cliff, and half concealed by wreathed +roots and wild festoons of brier and woodbine. Several +indistinct traditions remain of this cave’s having been, in +former days, the abode of more than one holy hermit and +gifted seer. From these it derived the name which it commonly +received, Coir-nan-Taischatrin, or, The Cave of the +Seers. At a little distance within the glen, upon its sunny +side, stood Castle Feracht. The elevation on which it was +built, gave it a prospect of the whole glen, without detaching +it from the hills and woods around; and a space had +been cleared of trees, so that, though completely surrounded, +their leafy screen only curtained, not obscured it.</p> + +<p>Castle Feracht had long been the residence of a powerful +branch of the Macphersons. In that far retirement repeated +generations of that daring family had grown up and rushed +forth, like young eagles from their mountain-eyrie, to the +field of strife; and not unfrequently never to return. Such +had been the fate of Angus Macpherson, in consequence +of an accidental encounter with the Gordons, between +whom and the Macphersons there had long subsisted a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +deadly feud. The death of his father had the effect of +fixing upon the mind of his son Ewan Macpherson a feeling +of stern and deadly resentment against all who had ever +been the foes of his turbulent clan. The stripling seemed +to fret at the slow pace of time, and to long for those years +in which his arm might have sufficient force to wield his +father’s broadsword, that he might rush to vengeance. +Such had often been his secret thoughts, when he at length +reached a period of life which made him able to put the +suggestions of his vindictive mind into execution; but a +strong and arousing spirit, to which we need not farther +allude, passed over the land, and he forgot for a time his +personal animosities, in feelings and purposes of a more +general and absorbing nature. The powerful sympathy of +thousands, lending all their united energies towards one +point, and laying aside their individual pursuits, in order +to contribute to the advancement of that all-engrossing +aim, laid its influence upon his soul, and he joined the +company, and aided in the general plans of those whom he +would have joyed to have met in deadly combat. Those +against whom his hostility had been less violent, he had +learned to meet almost on terms of friendship, though +dashed at times with looks of coldness.</p> + +<p>Among those half-forgiven foes, was Allan Cameron, a +younger son of that family of the Camerons which stood +next in hereditary dignity to the chief. The feud between +the Macphersons and Camerons had never been very deadly, +and might, perhaps, have been forgotten, had Macpherson +been less accustomed to “rake up the ashes of his fathers.” +Cameron, though still a very young man, had been obliged +early to mingle with the world, and had acquired that +habit of ready decision which gives its possessor an ascendancy +over almost all with whom he has any intercourse. +Notwithstanding his youth, therefore, he was of considerable +influence, and being brought repeatedly into contact +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +with Macpherson, there was something of a shy and distant +friendship between them. Cameron soon perceived the +coldness of Macpherson; but, as his own generous and +cultivated mind was far superior to the influence of prejudices, +such as had thrown a gloom over the whole being of +Macpherson, he knew not, never dreamt, that he was an +object of secret dislike to him; and, with his usual frank +kind-heartedness, exerted himself to win the favour of a +man so distinguished for personal daring as the dark-browed +lord of Glen Feracht.</p> + +<p>During the course of the operations in which they were +engaged, the decisive resolution and activity of Cameron +had repeatedly attracted the notice of Macpherson. Several +times had he said to himself, “Were he not a Cameron, +he would be a gallant fellow!” At length, one day Macpherson +was severely wounded, and rescued from immediate +death by the fearless intrepidity and fiery promptness of +Cameron. Macpherson’s stern sullenness was subdued. +Ere yet recovered from his wounds, he clasped Cameron’s +hand in token of cordial friendship; and so far laid aside +his distant coldness, as to invite Allan Cameron to accompany +him to Glen Feracht, when their present enterprise +should have come to a termination.</p> + +<p>That termination came sooner than had been expected; +and Cameron found it not only convenient but prudent to +accompany his fellow soldier to the secret retreat of Castle +Feracht. Cameron, an ardent admirer of nature’s beauties, +yielded all his soul to the emotions inspired by the wild +and rugged entrance to Glen Feracht; nor could he suppress +repeated exclamations of delight when all the softer +beauties of the quiet glen opened upon his sight. Macpherson +observed his admiration, and paced over the daisied +sward of his own valley with a more lofty step. Nor was +there less proud satisfaction in his heart and eye as he +conducted his guest to the hall of his fathers, and presented +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +to him his only sister, bidding her, at the same time, know +in Allan Cameron the preserver of her brother’s life.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth Macpherson rose and stepped blushing forward +to receive her young and gallant guest. She was just on the +verge of womanhood—that most fascinating period, when +the tender and deep sensibilities of the woman begin to +give a timid dignity to the liveliness of the girl. The open +and rather ardent expression of her happy countenance +was sweetly repressed and tempered by the pure veil of +maidenly modesty; yet her graceful and commanding stature, +the fire of her bright blue eye, and her free and +stately step and gesture, told that the spirit of her fathers +dwelt strong in the bosom of their lovely daughter. The +heart of Allan Cameron bounded and fluttered in his +breast, as he advanced to salute this beautiful mountain-nymph. +He had braved, undaunted, the brow of man +when darkened with the frown of deadly hostility, but he +shrank with a new and undefinable tremor before the +blushing smile of a youthful maiden’s cheek and eye. His +self-possession seemed for once to have forsaken him; and +had Macpherson been acquainted with the human heart, +he must have seen that a new and irresistible feeling was +rapidly taking possession of his generous preserver’s bosom. +He saw in it, however, but the awkwardness of a first interview +between two strangers of different sexes; and, in +order to relieve Cameron, led him away to see all the +beautiful and romantic scenery of the glen, particularly +Coir-nan-Taischatrin.</p> + +<p>But it was not long ere the graceful person and fascinating +manners of Cameron made an impression upon the +artless and warm-hearted maiden. At first, her brother’s +intimate friend, the preserver of his life, had, in her view, +just claims to her attention and grateful kindness; but +she soon felt that she esteemed, not to say loved him for +himself. The preserver of her brother would at all times +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +have been dear to her; but Allan Cameron woke in her +heart a feeling inexpressibly more deep, more tender, more +intense.</p> + +<p>Art had little influence in directing the conduct of the +youthful lovers; and it was not long till they experienced +all that heaven of delight which arises in the heart upon +being assured of the mutual return of affection. They +had, however, kept their love hid from Ewan Macpherson; +both because his dark and gloomy manner forbade all +approaches to familiar confidence, and because, from the +peculiar nature of love, mystery and concealment are +necessary to give it its highest zest. Whatever might be +the cause, certain it was that Allan Cameron and Elizabeth +Macpherson planned the little excursions, which they now +frequently made together, in such a manner that they +might, as much as possible, avoid being seen by Ewan.</p> + +<p>At length, however, the suspicions of the proud chieftain +were aroused. It had never entered into his mind that +Cameron might, by any possibility, raise his presumptuous +hopes so high as to dream of loving the sister of Ewan +Macpherson; and no sooner did he suspect the truth, than +he dashed from his mind every friendly and grateful +feeling towards the man who had saved his life; and saw +in Allan Cameron only the hereditary foe of his clan, +whose daring insolence had attempted to disgrace the +name of Macpherson, by seeking to win the heart of its +most loftily descended maiden. Full of resentment at what +he deemed so deep an insult, he was ranging the groves +and thickets of Glen Feracht in quest of Cameron, like a +wolf prowling for his unconscious victim.</p> + +<p>The evening sun was at that time throwing his long +lines of slanting glory across the summits of the mountains, +and lighting the clouds of the west with a radiance too +dazzling to be gazed upon, yet too magnificent to permit +the eye and the excited soul to wander for a moment from +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +the contemplation of its celestial splendour. Upon a +gentle eminence, whence the castle and the greater part +of the glen might be distinctly viewed, stood the lovers. +They gazed with silent delight on the beauty and magnificence +of the scene around them; yet, amidst their engrossing +raptures, they had still enough of individual feeling +remaining to be sensible of that warm palpitation of the +heart, which, in the presence of a beloved object, so greatly +enhances every feeling of delight. On a sudden, they +were startled by a rustling noise in the adjoining thicket; +and immediately forth bounded Bran, Macpherson’s staghound, +his master’s constant attendant.</p> + +<p>“My brother must be near,” said Elizabeth, in an +anxious whisper; “and we shall be discovered. Good +Heavens! what shall we do?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he may not have seen us,” replied Cameron: +“you can hasten to the castle, and I shall attempt to detain +him here till you shall have reached it.”</p> + +<p>She gave no answer; but, casting around a glance of +great alarm, and fixing one tender, anxious look for one +moment upon Cameron, she hastened away through secret +but well-known paths. She did not, however, escape the +eye of Ewan Macpherson, who had thus unseasonably approached +the lovers in their retirement. At this discovery, +madness swelled in his heart and boiled along his veins; +but, suppressing his passion, he approached with haughty +stateliness the spot where Cameron stood, apparently fixed +in deep and all-engrossing admiration of the glowing beauties +of earth and heaven.</p> + +<p>“The beauties of animated nature appear to have charms +in the tasteful eyes of Allan Cameron,” said Macpherson, +as he advanced.</p> + +<p>“They have,” replied Cameron; “and who could stand +on this lovely spot and witness so much beauty and magnificence, +without feeling a glow of rapture pervade his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +whole frame, and chain him to the place in delighted admiration! +How happy ought the man to be who can call +a place of such loveliness and grandeur his own!”</p> + +<p>“Stay! hold! Allan Cameron; let us understand each +other. Does Allan Cameron mean to say that these woods +and streams of Glen Feracht, the lofty mountains around +him, the tints of the evening sky over his head, and these +alone, have stirred up his soul to this pitch of enthusiasm? +Or must Ewan Macpherson flatter himself that his sister’s +charms have also had some slight influence in producing +these rapturous emotions?”</p> + +<p>Uncertain whether Macpherson was in earnest or in jest, +Cameron hesitated to answer; and continued gazing on the +mountain top, bright, and crimson, and airy, as if it terminated +in an edge of flame.</p> + +<p>“Dishonour blast the name of Macpherson, if I endure +this!” exclaimed the fierce Ewan, bursting into a tumult +of fury. “Proud Cameron! dost thou disdain to answer +the chief of the Macphersons? Are we fallen so low that +a Cameron shall despise us? Speak! answer me! else I +strike thee to my foot like a base hound! Hast thou dared +to mention love—even to think of love for the sister of +Macpherson?”</p> + +<p>“And where were the mighty offence, though a Cameron +should aspire so high as to love the sister of Macpherson?”</p> + +<p>“Where were the offence?—I tell thee, boy, he had +better never have seen the light. But I will not trifle +with thee. Hast <em>thou</em> so dared?”</p> + +<p>“I am little used to answer such interrogations. But I +would not willingly quarrel with Ewan Macpherson. My +heart must have been colder than it is, could I have enjoyed +the company of Elizabeth Macpherson without yielding me +to that influence of witching beauty which softens and subdues +the soul.”</p> + +<p>“Thou hast not said—thou dost not dare to say—thou +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +lovest her! Cameron, I have felt friendship for thee. Thou +hast resided in the hall of my fathers. My hand is withheld +from thee. But, if thou dost not renounce, at once +and for ever, all pretensions to the love of Elizabeth Macpherson, +thou hast looked thy last on this green earth and +those glorious heavens.”</p> + +<p>“Renounce all pretensions to the love of Elizabeth Macpherson! +I tell thee, proud man, that the daughter of the +highest Macpherson might think herself honoured by an +alliance with a Cameron.”</p> + +<p>“Insolent serf! unsay thy words, or maintain them with +thy sword!—Crouch, like a low-born slave as thou art, +and beg Macpherson’s pardon, if thou darest not bare thy +coward blade.”</p> + +<p>“Macpherson, thou didst not call me slave or coward, +when, side by side, we two stemmed the stream of battle +in its wildest rage;—nor was it a coward blade that +hewed out a safe retreat for thee, when thine own arm +waxed weak and thy steps were unequal on the field of the +slain.”</p> + +<p>“Thou dost well to speak of what thou knowest will +prevent me from chastising thy base treachery. ’Tis +what I might have expected;—’tis done like a cowardly +Cameron!”</p> + +<p>“But that thou hast a sister, Macpherson, that taunt +had cost thee dear. Thou knowest that thou speakest +falsely.”</p> + +<p>“Falsely!—defend thee, villain, or die like a slave! The +feud of our fathers is but renewed—their spirits behold +our strife!” cried Macpherson, and, drawing his claymore, +rushed upon Cameron almost before his blade was bared +for the combat.</p> + +<p>Macpherson, transported to a pitch of frenzy, thought +not of artful skill, dreamt not of personal danger. He +showered blow on blow with the intemperate fury of a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +maniac; all his aim, every effort, being directed to destroy +his foe. Cameron, with less bodily strength, was possessed +of calm and dauntless courage, superior skill in the use of +his weapon, and unmatched personal activity. Unwilling +to harm the brother of the object of his affection, he only +defended himself, retiring and warding off the furious but +aimless blows of Macpherson. The frowning cheek and +brow of the baffled chief waxed grimmer with disappointed +hate; and, changing his mode of attack, he swept circling +round his young and agile antagonist, endeavouring thus +to throw him off his guard. Cameron, turning dexterously +on his heel, held him still at the sword’s point, and allowed +him to expend his strength in desperate efforts of fierce but +ineffectual violence. During their combat, however, some +of Macpherson’s <em>gillies</em> approached the spot; and Cameron +perceived them nearing him with kindling eyes, and holding +in their impatient hands the <em>skean dhu</em> half unsheathed. +He knew that Macpherson was as honourable as brave; +and he knew that he might with perfect safety trust his +life to the honour of any highlander, under any circumstance +where the peculiar honour of his clan was not concerned. +But he also knew that no clansman would esteem +any deed a crime which should preserve the life or the +reputation of his chief. There was, he saw, but one means +of saving his life. Collecting all his strength, he beat +aside one of Macpherson’s furious blows, and bounding +upon him as a crouching tiger springs upon his prey, he +wrenched his claymore from his hand, dashed him to the +earth with the mere violence of the assault; wielding a +weapon in either hand, he struck to the ground two of the +opposing clansmen, plunged into the thickets as a mountain +stag bursts through his covert when the opening pack is +near, and disappeared in an instant among the crashing +and closing boughs of the underwood. Foaming with +disappointed rage, Macpherson sprung from the ground, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +snatched a <em>skean dhu</em> from one of his prostrated followers, +and shouting, “Revenge!” rushed into the thickets in +headlong pursuit. In vain. A fleeter foot than that of +Allan Cameron never pressed the mountain heath, and, +in a short time, he was far beyond all danger from his +enraged pursuer; who, after ranging every dell and nook +in vain, returned to Castle Feracht, chafing and foaming +with impotent rage, and uttering dire but unavailing threats +of vengeance.</p> + +<p>What would it avail to relate the chieftain’s wrath, when +he found himself compelled to forego his hopes of sweet +revenge, and to endure what he esteemed a new and a more +daring insult? Fret and chafe as he might, he knew that +his high-souled sister would not be deterred, by threats of +personal injury, from following the bent of her own inclination. +He therefore assembled his followers in her presence, +and caused them all to bind themselves, by a deep oath, to +avenge the quarrel of their chief upon Allan Cameron, +should he ever dare to set foot within Glen Feracht; enforcing +his commands by threats of deadliest vengeance, should +any clansman show him favour, hold intelligence with him, +or meet him in terms of peace. Elizabeth Macpherson saw +his purpose; but she scorned to display her emotion. A flush +indeed mantled her brow, and her eye shed one sparkle of +indignation—but she remained silent. Fraternal affection +was banished the halls of Castle Feracht. An increasing +gloom and moodiness of heart began to sink upon the +rugged chief; and, at length, to prevent his dark soul’s +loneliness from becoming altogether insupportable, he +began to take an interest in the affairs, first of his own +clan, next of the neighbouring clans, and finally of the +nation. He thus became acquainted with many a wild +and many a wondrous legend, which might otherwise never +have reached his observation; and his rather uncultivated +mind was not able to resist the encroachments of superstition. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +Among others, a firm belief in the reality of the +<em>taisch</em>, or second-sight, took possession of his mind; and he +listened to the many almost incredible relations concerning +it, with a wild excitement of spirit. These changes in the +manners and pursuits of Macpherson, were, from time to +time, reported to Allan Cameron, in spite of the stern +threats which had been denounced against all who should +hold intercourse with him. A youth, the cho-alt (foster +brother) of Allan Cameron, had repeatedly, under the assumed +character of a wandering hunter, entered within the +precincts of Glen Feracht, where he was unknown; and, +picking up all the information that could be obtained, +without awakening suspicion, returned with it to his +youthful chief.</p> + +<p>Ewan Macpherson was one day informed, by his aged +<em>henchman</em>, Ranald Glas, that a second-sighted man had +arrived in the glen, conducted, according to his own +account, by the power of the taisch: that he was extremely +old, and his visions were appallingly vivid: his +thoughts were terror, and his words were fire. The revelations +of things to come passed frequent and powerful +across his soul, bright and living as realities; and his language +was that of one who constantly held strange communication +with scenes and beings not of this world. +Though his foot had never before trod the heath of Glen +Feracht, he described, with the most perfect accuracy, its +castle, stream, and cave; saying that he was come to lay +his bones beside those of the ancient seers and holy men +who had inhabited Coir-nan-Taischatrin. This was enough +to rouse the curiosity of Macpherson. Pursuing his inquiries, +he learned that the seer had taken up his abode +in the cave, and that he had already foretold to some of +the clan things, part of which were accomplished, and the +rest expected with the utmost confidence. In order to +satisfy his curiosity, Macpherson determined to visit the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +hoary seer, and learn from himself the nature of his +visions.</p> + +<p>The shadows of the pine and oak were stretching far +across the ravine in the slant evening sunshine, when +Ewan Macpherson appeared in front of the cave. His eye +could not penetrate the deep darkness within it; and, +yielding to a feeling of indescribable awe which crept over +his soul, he remained for some time silent and motionless +before its entrance. At length he ordered one of his gillies +to acquaint the wondrous inmate that Ewan Macpherson +wished to hold some converse with him. Forward came +the venerable man; and his appearance, in the dimming +twilight, had no tendency to diminish the strange delirium +of superstitious feelings which had absorbed the whole mind +of the bewildered chief. The sage bent one searching +glance upon his visitor; and, seeming to have penetrated +the state of his mind, advanced into more open view.</p> + +<p>A long and squared rod seemed to support his shaking +frame as he came forward, tottering and halting at every +step. The shaggy hide of an enormous wolf, thrown loosely +over his shoulders, served partly to clothe him, partly to +disguise his form by the air of savage wildness which a +garment so uncouth gave its wearer. From his belt depended +some instruments, with the use of which Macpherson +was entirely unacquainted; together with a <em>skean dhu</em> +of exquisite and uncommon workmanship. His bonnet +alone was like that of other men; for what could a true +highlander substitute for the blue bonnet? but he neither +doffed it, nor made any motions of obeisance as he approached. +A long white beard flowed half down his bosom, +waving heavily and solemnly as he moved. The fire of an +intensely bright eye was half hid by his deep, grey, shaggy +eyebrows; yet, from beneath that grim penthouse, they +emitted occasional sparklings like diamonds in the dark.</p> + +<p>“Chief of Macpherson!” said he, in a deep hollow voice, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +“man of the dark brow and ruthless hand! what seekest +thou with Moran of the Wild?” But, ere Macpherson +could reply, the sage cast the wolf hide back from his right +shoulder—extended the long square rod in his firmly +clenched hand—raised himself up to his full height, while +his eyes seemed starting from their sockets, and gleaming +like two balls of living fire, and his whole frame agitated, +and as if it were dilating with the internal workings of +his wild visionary spirit. Macpherson shook and shrunk +in his presence.</p> + +<p>“They come! they come!” exclaimed the seer—“the +wild, the dreadful, the undefinable, the unutterable, the +shadowy forms and seemings of things and actions to be! +They crowd upon me in powers and numbers unendurable, +inconceivable! Words never formed by human breath +sound within my heart, and tell of things that mortal tongue +may never utter. Eyes, clear, cold, dead, bright, and chill +as winter moonshine, look into my soul, and fill it with all +their lucid meanings! Oh, scene of blood and woe! when +wilt thou end? Thou bright-haired angel, must the doom +be thine! Fair lady of the stately brow! oh! let me see +no more!” His lips quivered, but he uttered not another +word. He remained fixed, rigid, statue-like, as if chilled +into stone, bereft of life and motion, by the terrible vision. +At length his extended arm dropped by his side; and, +heaving a long, shuddering sigh, he leaned his drooping +frame upon his rod, trembling and exhausted.</p> + +<p>After a considerable pause, Macpherson ventured to address +him, with the intention of inquiring into the nature +of his vision. “Speak not to me, Ewan Macpherson,” said +he. “Seek not to know the fate thou wilt and must know +all too soon. Thy path through life has been blood-stained +and devious. No warnings may now avail thee. But that +lady—might she be rescued from misery and horror! +Chief! if the safety and happiness of thy father’s daughter +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +be dear to thee, bid her assume the spirit of her race, and +come alone to Coir-nan-Taischatrin. Tell her that Moran +of the Wild has that to reveal to her which concerns her, +and thee, too, deeply. And mark me, Chief! unless thou +ceasest to pursue the feuds of thy fathers, thy course will +be brief, and bloody will be its close.” Thus saying, he +turned and feebly dragged his spent and tottering form into +the dark and awe-inspiring cave.</p> + +<p>Stunned and bewildered, incapable of thought or reflection, +and staggering like one who walks in his sleep, Macpherson +wandered back towards Castle Feracht. With a +strange expression of vague astonishment and hesitation +he gazed upon his sister. At length he found words: +“Elizabeth Macpherson, if the honour of thy name, if thy +own safety and happiness can move thee; if thy brother’s +life—but that is a trifle—assume the spirit of thy fathers, +and go alone to Coir-nan-Taischatrin. Moran of the Wild +has that to tell thee which deeply concerns thy safety and +happiness. Canst thou execute his desire? He is a fearful +man!” At his first words the blood forsook her cheek, +and her heart sank within her; but, ere he ceased speaking, +a wild surmise flashed gleaming across her soul.</p> + +<p>“Brother!” replied she, “the daughter of Angus Macpherson +dare go alone to Coir-nan-Taischatrin, and hear +whatever the sage may have to tell. Fear not for me. Do +not, by impatience or needless anxiety for my safety, rashly +interrupt our interview. Ere long, you shall know what +warnings or what information the seer has to impart.” +Then, with a stately and determined step, and an eye +kindled with an ambiguous expression of ardent hope or +daring resolution, she bent her way to the dreaded cave.</p> + +<p>The fearless maiden approached the cave. She spoke; +but the voice that answered was that of Allan Cameron. +The wolf’s hide was soon thrown aside, and he stood before +her in the graceful garb of a mountain warrior; his noble +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +countenance beaming with courage and triumphant love. +Taking advantage of the time which Macpherson would +delay at the castle, awaiting the expiration of their interview, +they hastily fled from the hostile glen, and soon +reached a concealment where the faithful cho-alt had +horses prepared for their escape. Words would be feeble +to express the fury of Ewan Macpherson when, after waiting +till his patience was exhausted, he explored the cave, +and found that he had been deceived, and that by the man +whom he had begun to consider as his deadliest foe. He +determined to take fearful vengeance upon Cameron, and +all of his clan whom he might be able to overpower. Before +he could get his purpose put in execution, he chanced +to meet a small party of the Gordons; when, forgetting +every other thought but that of his burning desire of vengeance +on those who slew his father, he rushed upon them; +and, bursting into the midst of them, was assailed on all +sides, and wounded so severely that, though he was rescued +by his own followers, and was completely victorious, he died +ere he could be brought back to Castle Feracht. Dying unmarried, +his estate and power passed to his sister, and from +her to one of her younger sons, upon his dropping the +name of Cameron, and retaining that of Macpherson alone. +An amicable termination was thus put to the feud between +the two families. A descendant from this auspicious union +still resides in Castle Feracht, and occasionally relates, +with considerable pleasure, the tradition of Coir-nan-Taischatrin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE LAIDLEY WORM OF SPINDLESTON HEUGH.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A TALE OF THE ANGLO-SAXONS.</strong></p> + +<div class="box"> +<p style="margin-left: 11em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“Word went east, and word went west,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">And word is gone over the sea,</span><br /> + That a Laidley Worm in Spindleston Heugh<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would ruin the north countrie.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 11em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“All folks believe within the shire</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">This story to be true,</span><br /> + And they all run to Spindleston<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cave and trough to view.</span></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 11em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“This fact now Duncan Frazier,</span><br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Cheviot, sings in rhyme,</span><br /> + Lest Bamboroughshire-men should forget<br /> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some</span> part of it in time.”—<em>Ancient Ballad.</em><a name="FNanchor_J_10" id="FNanchor_J_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_J_10" class="fnanchor">[J]</a></p> +</div> + +<p>“Tell me, old man,” said a Northumbrian chief to a +Saxon bard who claimed his hospitality, “tell me a tale of +the olden time—a legend of the race of Woden.”</p> + +<p>The bard bowed his head and began:—Great was Ida, +the flame-bearer, above all the kings of the isles. His +ships covered the sea in shoals, and his warriors that +launched them on the deep were stronger than its waves. +He built the towers of Bamborough on the mighty rock +whose shadow darkens the waters. He reared it as a habitation +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +for his queen, and he called it by her name.<a name="FNanchor_K_11" id="FNanchor_K_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_K_11" class="fnanchor">[K]</a> +Wheresoever he went, strong places were consumed, kings +were overthrown and became his servants, and nations +became one. But Ida, in the midst of his conquests, fell +in battle, by the red sword of Owen, the avenging Briton. +Then followed six kings who reigned over Bernicia, from +the southern Tyne even to the Frith of Dun Edin. But +the duration of their sovereignty was as a summer cloud +or morning dew. Their reigns were as six spans from an +infant’s hand, and peaceful as an infant’s slumber.</p> + +<p>But to them succeeded Ethelfrith the Fierce—the grandson +of Ida—the descendant of the immortal Woden. His +voice, when his ire was kindled, was like the sound of deep +thunder, and his vengeance fleeter than the lightning. He +overthrew princes as reeds, and he swept armies before him +as stubble. His conquests extended from where clouds +sleep on the brow of Cheviot, to where the heights of +terrific Snowdon pierce heaven. Men trembled at his name; +for he was as a wolf in the fold, as an eagle among the +lesser birds of heaven.</p> + +<p>Now, the wife of Ethelfrith’s bosom died; she departed +to the place of spirits—to the company of her fathers. +She left behind her a daughter, Agitha,<a name="FNanchor_L_12" id="FNanchor_L_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_L_12" class="fnanchor">[L]</a> with the tresses +of the raven’s wing; and she was beautiful as sunbeams +sparkling from morning dew amongst the flowers of spring. +Her eyes were bright as the falcon’s, but with their +brightness was mingled the meekness of the dove’s. The +breath of sixteen summers had fanned her cheeks. Her +bosom was white as the snow that lay in winter on the +hills, and soft as the plumage of the sea-fowl that soared +over the rocks of her lofty dwelling.</p> + +<p>A hundred princes sighed for the hand of the bright-haired +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +Agitha; but their tales of love had no music for her +ear, and they jarred upon her soul as the sounds of a +broken instrument. She bent her ear only to listen to the +song of affection from the lips of the Chylde Wynde—even +to Chylde Wynde of the sharp sword and the unerring +bow, who was her own kinsman, the son of her father’s +brother. His voice was to her as the music of water +brooks to the weary and fainting traveller—dear as the +shout of triumph to a conquering king. Great was the +Chylde Wynde among the heroes of Bernicia. He had +honoured the shield of his father. He had rendered his +sword terrible. Where the battle raged fiercest, there +was his voice heard, there was his sword seen; war-horses +and their riders fell before it—it arrested the fury of the +chariots of war. Bards recorded his deeds in immortal +strains, and Agitha sang them in secret.</p> + +<p>Yet would not Ethelfrith listen to the prayer of his kinsman, +but his anger was kindled against him. The fierce +king loved his daughter, but he loved dominion more. It +was dearer to him than the light of heaven, than the face +of the blessed sun. He waded through blood as water, +even the blood of his victims, to set his feet upon thrones. +He said unto himself—“Agitha is beautiful—she is fairer +than her mother was. She is stately as a pine, lifting its +head above the sacred oaks. She is lovely as the moon +when it blesseth the harvest fields. A king only shall +possess her hand, and give a kingdom in exchange for it.”</p> + +<p>Thus spoke her father, the mighty Ethelfrith, whose +word was power, and whose purpose was fixed as the everlasting +rocks on which the foundations of the earth are +built. He said, therefore, unto the Chylde Wynde—“Strong +art thou in battle, son of my brother; the mighty +bend before thy spear, and thy javelins pierce through the +shields of our enemies. As an eagle descendeth on its +prey, so rusheth my kinsman to the onset. But thou hast +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +no nation to serve thee—no throne to offer for my daughter’s +hand. Whoso calleth himself her husband, shall for +that title exchange the name of king, and become tributary +unto me—even as my sword, before which thrones shake +and nations tremble, has caused others to do homage. Go, +therefore, son of my brother, take with thee ships and +warriors, and seek thee a people to conquer. Go, find a +land to possess; and when with thy sword and with thy +bow thou hast done this, return ye to me, bringing a crown +in thy left hand, and in thy right will I place the hand of +Agitha with the bright hair, whose eyes are as stars.”</p> + +<p>“O king!” answered the Chylde—“thou who holdest +the fate of princes in thy hands, and the shadow of whose +sceptre stretcheth over many nations—the uplifting of whose +arm turneth the tide of battle—swear unto me, by the +spirit of mighty Woden, that while I am doing that which +thou requirest, and ere I can return to lay a crown at thy +feet, swear that thou will not bless another king, for an +offered kingdom, with the hand of Agitha, in whom my +soul liveth!”</p> + +<p>Then did the wrath of the king wax terrible; his eyes +were as consuming fires, even as the fire of heaven when it +darteth from the dark clouds of midnight. His countenance +was fierce as the sea, when its waves boil and are +lifted up with the tempest. In his wrath he dashed his +heel upon the floor; and the armour of conquered kings, +the spoils of a hundred battles, rang round the halls of +Ida.</p> + +<p>“Shall the blood of my brother,” he cried “stain the +floor of his father? Boy! ask ye an oath from a king, the +descendant of Woden?<a name="FNanchor_M_13" id="FNanchor_M_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_M_13" class="fnanchor">[M]</a> Away! do as I command thee, +lest ye perish!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +Then did the Chylde Wynde withdraw from before the +anger of the great king, in the presence of whom, in his +wrath, the life even of his kindred was as a spider’s +thread. He sought Agitha with the rainbow smile, where +she sat with her maidens, in the groves of Budle, ornamenting +a robe of skins for her father, the mighty Ethelfrith. +The sea sang its anthem of power along the shore, +and the caves of the rocks resounded with the chorus of +the eternal hymn. The farthest branches of the grove bent +over the cliff that overhung the sounding sea. The birds +of heaven sang over her head, and before her the sea-birds +wheeled in myriads, countless as the sand upon the shore, +like burnished clouds over the adjacent isles. Their bright +wings flashed in the sun, like the fitful fires that light the +northern heavens.</p> + +<p>The warrior Chylde drew near where the princess sat. +There was gloom and sorrow on his brow. The echoes of +the grove answered to his sighs. Agitha heard them. She +beheld the cloud of anguish that was before his countenance. +The robe of skins dropped from her hand. Her eyes, that +were as the morning light, became dim. She arose and +went forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>“Wherefore,” she inquired, “does my hero sigh, and +why sits heaviness on the brightness of his face? Art not +thou renowned in song as the warrior of the dauntless +heart and the resistless sword? Art not thou the envy of +princes—the beloved of the people—the admired by the +daughters of kings? And can sadness dwell upon thy soul? +Oh! thou who art as the plume of my father’s warriors, +and as the pride of his host, if grief hath entered into thy +bosom, let it be buried in mine.”</p> + +<p>Then thus replied the warrior Chylde:—“Agitha—thou +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +that art fairer, milder than the light that plays around +the brows of the summer moon, and dearer to me than a +mother’s milk to the lips of her babe—it is for thee that +my countenance is sad, and my soul troubled. For thy +father has pierced my spirit with many arrows; yea, even +with the poisoned arrows of a deadly foe. He hath wrung +my soul for thee, Agitha. Thou didst give me thy heart +when the sacred moon rose over the rocky Ferns and beheld +us; and while the ministering spirits that dwell in its +beams descended as a shower of burning gold upon the sea, +and, stretching to the shore, heard us. We exchanged our +vows beneath the light of the hallowed orb, while the stars +of heaven hid their faces before it. Then, Agitha, while +its beams glowed on my father’s sword, upon that sword I +swore to love thee. But our vows are vain. Daughter of +kings! our love is sorrow. Thy father hath vowed, by the +mighty Woden, that thou shalt be the wife of a king, and +that a kingdom shall be the price of thy hand. Yet will I +gather my warriors together. They number a thousand +spears; they have a thousand bows. The charge of their +spears is as the rushing of the whirlwind. The flight of +their arrows hides the face of the sun. Foes perish at their +approach. Victory goeth before their face. Therefore +will I go forth into a far country. I will make war upon a +strange people, that I may take the kingdom from their ruler, +and present his crown unto thy father for the hand of my +Agitha.”</p> + +<p>The maiden wept. Her head sank on her bosom like a +fair flower weighed down with dew. Tears stood in the +eyes of the warrior.</p> + +<p>“Weep not, daughter of heroes!” he said; “the tide of +battle is in the hands of Woden. He will not turn it against +a descendant of his race. I will return to thee in triumph. +I will throw a crown at thy father’s feet, and rush to the +arms of Agitha. Thou wilt greet me again with thy smile +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +of love—with thy voice that is sweeter than the music of +spring. Thy heart, which is dearer than life, shall be my +kingdom; and thy bosom, that is whiter than the breast of +the wild swan, my throne. I will fly to thee as the hunted +deer to its covert—as a bird to its nest where its young +await it.”</p> + +<p>Thus departed the warrior, and Agitha returned to her +maidens; she sat down amongst them and mourned.</p> + +<p>Gormack, the weird, a thane of the Pictish race, had his +dwelling near the giddy cliffs where the young eagles scream +to the roar of the dark waters of the Forth. He had a +daughter whose beauty was the theme of all tongues. Her +fame went over the land like the sound of shells—yea, like +the sound of shells when the wind is hushed, and the moon +is bright in the heavens. Fair was the daughter of Gormack +as the lily that groweth by the brook. Her hair was +as the finest fleece when it is purified. It fell down her +back in ringlets. It was bright as the golden clouds that +encircle the throne of the rising sun—as the golden clouds +when they are dipped in silver. Her father held counsel +with spirits of evil. They were obedient to his will. He +invoked them to endue his daughter with more than mortal +beauty, that she might inflame the soul of princes, and sit +upon their throne. Such was the tale of men. Her beauty +was the burden of the song of bards. In their chorus to +swell the praise of others, they said that they were “lovely +as the fair daughter of Gormack.”</p> + +<p>The tale of her charms was heard by Ethelfrith. It was +heard by the fierce in war—the impetuous in love—the +victor in battle—yea, even by Ethelfrith, king of Bernicia. +“I will see the fair daughter of the thane,” said the proud +king, to whose will even war and the mighty in war did +homage. Moreover, Gormack the thane was his vassal. +He had sworn to his obedience.</p> + +<p>The king went forth to the dwelling of Gormack, among +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> the cliffs. +Ealdormen,<a name="FNanchor_N_14" id="FNanchor_N_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_N_14" class="fnanchor">[N]</a> +comites,<a name="FNanchor_O_15" id="FNanchor_O_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_O_15" class="fnanchor">[O]</a> +and thanes,<a name="FNanchor_P_16" id="FNanchor_P_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_P_16" class="fnanchor">[P]</a> +attended him. The weird thane came forth to meet him; he bowed +his head and made obeisance.</p> + +<p>Ethelfrith beheld Bethoc the Beautiful; and the songs +that he had heard in her praise were as an idle tale, for her +loveliness exceeded the power of song. The soul of the +fierce king melted within him. It was subdued by the +sorcery of her charms.</p> + +<p>“Give me,” said he unto her father—and commandments +ever fell from his lips—“give me Bethoc to be my +wife; for she is more lovely than the morning star. She +is fit for a warrior’s bride; she shall be <span class="smcap">The Lady</span><a name="FNanchor_Q_17" id="FNanchor_Q_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q_17" class="fnanchor">[Q]</a> of +Bernicia.”</p> + +<p>Again the weird bowed his head. He knelt upon his +knee. He presented his daughter to the king. Then did +Ethelfrith take her by the hand. He led her forth to his +chariot of war, through the midst of his ealdormen, his +comites, and his thanes, who were in great power and resistless +in war, and they made obeisance to her as she passed +through the midst of them. They saluted her as their queen. +Her breast swelled with exultation. Pride flashed from her +eyes, as the sun bursting from a cloud dazzleth the eye of +the gazer. The king gazed upon her beauty as a dreamer +upon a fair vision.</p> + +<p>Now, the beauty of Bethoc was sin made lovely. Her +bosom was as a hill where the vine and the cedar grew, and +where flowers shed forth perfume; but beneath which a +volcano slept. To the eye was beauty, beyond were desolation +and death. Pride, hatred, and envy, encircled her soul. +She was sold unto evil, even as her father was. The spirit +of destruction, in answer to her father’s prayer, had formed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +her a beautiful destroyer. Whatsoever was lovely that she +looked upon in envy, withered as though an east wind passed +over it—the destroying wind which blighteth the hopes of +the husbandman.</p> + +<p>At the going down of the sun, the king, and his fair +queen, Bethoc, with his mighty men, drew near to the +tower which Ida had built on the mountain-rock, and all +the people of the city came forth to meet him, and to greet +their queen.</p> + +<p>The bards lifted up their voice; they styled her the fairest +of women.</p> + +<p>“Fair is the wife of the king,” replied an aged thane, +“but fairer is Agitha, his daughter! Bethoc, the queen, is +a bright star, but Agitha is the star of the morning—fairest +of the heavens!”</p> + +<p>Queen Bethoc heard the words of the aged thane, and +she hated Agitha because of them. The spirit of evil spread +his darkness over her soul. He filled her breast with the +poison of asps, her eyes with the venom of the adder that +lures to destruction.</p> + +<p>At the entrance of the tower of kings stood Agitha, +lovely as the spirits that dwell among the stars, and give +beauty to the beings of earth. She knelt before the queen. +She offered her a daughter’s homage.</p> + +<p>“Rise, beautiful one! inspirer of song!” said the queen; +“kneel not to me, for I am but a star—thou art the star of +the morning. Hide not thy face from before men. Let +them serve and worship thee.”</p> + +<p>Cold were her words as water which droppeth from the +everlasting icicles in the caves of the north. As is the +mercy of the tears of the crocodile, so was the kindness of +her looks. Envy and hatred gleamed in her eyes, like +lightnings round the sides of a dark cloud.</p> + +<p>The countenance of Agitha fell; for she knew that her +father in his wrath was fiercer than the wild boar of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +forest when at bay; and she feared to reply to the sneer +of the wife in whom his eyes delighted.</p> + +<p>Queen Bethoc, the daughter of Gormack, knew that men +said she was less beautiful than Agitha, the daughter of the +king. When they walked by the clear fountains or the +crystal brooks together, the fountains and the brooks whispered +to her the words which men spoke—“Agitha is the +most lovely.” Therefore did the queen hate Agitha with a +great and deadly hatred. As the sleuth-hound seeketh its +prey, so did she seek her destruction. As the fowler lureth +the bird into his net, so did she lie in wait for her. Yet she +feared to destroy her openly, because that she was afraid of +the fierce anger of her husband Ethelfrith, and his love for +his daughter was great.</p> + +<p>Sleep fled from her eyes, and colour forsook her cheeks, +because of her envy of the beauty of Agitha, and the hatred +which she bore her. She spoke unto her father Gormack, +the weird thane, that he would aid her with his sorceries +against her. Then did they practise their unclean spells, +and perform their dark incantations to destroy her; but their +spells and incantations prevailed not, for the spirit of Woden +protected Agitha.</p> + +<p>Now, there resided at that time in a dark cave, in the +heugh which is called Spindleston, an enchantress of great +power, named Elgiva—the worker of wonders. Men said +that she could weave ropes of sand, and threads from the +motes of the sunbeams. She could call down fire from the +clouds, and transform all things by the waving of her magic +wand. Around her hung a loose robe, composed of the +skins of many beasts. Her feet and her arms were bare, +and they were painted with strange figures. On her face, +also, was the likeness of the spirits that ministered to her +will. She was fearful to look upon. Men fled at her approach. +The beasts of the field were scared by her shadow. +Round her head was wreathed a crown of fantastic hemlock—round +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +her neck a corslet of deadly nightshade. On her +left arm coiled a living snake, and it rested its head upon +her bosom. In her right hand she held a wand dipped in +the poison of all things venomous. Whatsoever it touched +died—whatsoever it waved over was transformed. No +human foot approached her cave—no mortal dared. The +warrior, who feared not a hundred foes, quailed at the sight +of Elgiva, the enchantress, the worker of wonders. Unclean +reptiles crawled around her cave—the asp, the loathsome +toad, and the hissing adder. Two owls sat in the farthest +corner of the cave, and their eyes were as lamps in its darkness. +They sat upon skulls of the dead. A tame raven +croaked in the midst of it. It was told that the reptiles, the +owls, and the raven, were objects of her enchantment—warriors, +and the daughters of warriors, transformed by +the waving of her wand.</p> + +<p>Now, when Bethoc could find no rest because of the +greatness of her hatred for Agitha, and, moreover, as she +herself had communed with impure spirits, she overcame +the terror which the name of Elgiva spread. She sought +her aid. In the dead of night, when the moon had gone +to rest, yea, when clouds and darkness had blotted out +the stars that were left to watch in the heavens, she went +forth from the tower of kings. She stood before the cave +of the enchantress. She lifted up her voice and cried—“Elgiva—worker +of wonders! the feared of mortals—come forth!”</p> + +<p>The owls clapped their wings and screamed; the ravens +croaked, and the adders hissed. From the darkness of her +cave the voice of the enchantress came forth—it came forth +as a voice from the grave, saying—“Who amongst the children +of mortals dareth to call upon the name of Elgiva?—or, +what deed of sin bringeth thee hither?”</p> + +<p>“The queen,” answered Bethoc, “the wife of the mighty +Ethelfrith, she calleth thee, she invoketh thine aid. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +strongest spirits obey thee—the spirits of the earth, of the +air, and of the sea. Then help me, thou that art more +powerful than the kings of the earth, that art stronger than +the fate of the stars; help—rid me of mine enemy whom I +hate, even of Agitha, the daughter of the king. Make her +as one of the poisoned worms that crawl within thy cave. +Or, if thou wilt not do this thing to serve me, when my +right hand hath shed her blood, turn from me the fierce +wrath of her father the king.”</p> + +<p>Again the voice of the enchantress came forth from the +cave, saying—“In seven days come unto me again—bring +with thee the Princess Agitha; and Elgiva, the enchantress, +will do towards her as Bethoc, the daughter of the weird +thane, hath requested.”</p> + +<p>Thus did the queen, while Ethelfrith, her lord, was +making war against a strange king in a far country.</p> + +<p>Darkness lay heavy on the hills, it concealed the objects +on the plains. The seven days, of which the enchantress +had spoken, were expired.</p> + +<p>“Maiden,” said the queen unto Agitha, “rise and follow +me.”</p> + +<p>Agitha obeyed; for the fear and the commandment of +her father were upon her. Two servants, men of the +Pictish race, also followed the queen. She went towards +the cave of the enchantress. Agitha would have shrunk +back, but the queen grasped her hand. The swords of the +men of the Pictish race waved over her. They dragged +her forward. They stood before the cave of the potent +Elgiva.</p> + +<p>“Elgiva! worker of wonders!” exclaimed the queen; +“Bethoc, thy servant, is come. The victim also is here—Agitha, +the morning-star. By thy power, which is stronger +than the lightning, and invisible as the wind, render loathsome +her beauty; yea, make her as a vile worm which +crawleth on the ground, with venom in its mouth.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +Again was heard the deep voice of the enchantress, +mingled with the croaking of the raven, and the screeching +of the owls, as she rushed from her cave, crying—“It shall +be as thou hast said.”</p> + +<p>Terror had entranced the soul of the fair Agitha—it had +brought a sleep over her senses. The enchantress grasped +her hand. She threw her arm around her.</p> + +<p>“Away, accursed!” she exclaimed unto Bethoc the +queen; “fly! lest the power of the enchantment fall upon +thee also. Fly! lest it overtake thee as darkness overtaketh +the benighted traveller. Fly! ere the wand of the +worker of wonders is uplifted, and destruction come upon +thee.”</p> + +<p>The followers of Bethoc quaked with dismay. They +turned with her and fled to the tower of Ida. Of their +outgoing and their incoming none knew.</p> + +<p>The maidens of Bernicia wept when the loss of Agitha +was known. “Beauty,” said they, “hath perished. Agitha, +whose face was as the face of heaven when its glories +appear—as the face of the earth when its flowers give +forth their fragrance—Agitha is not!” And because she +was not, the people mourned. Queen Bethoc alone rejoiced, +and was silent.</p> + +<p>Dismay and wonder spread over the land—for a tale was +told of a serpent-worm, fearful in magnitude and of monstrous +form, which was seen at Spindleston, by the cave of +Elgiva—the worker of wonders—the woman of power.</p> + +<p>The people trembled. They said of the monster—“It +is Agitha, the beloved!—the daughter of our king, of conquering +Ethelfrith. Elgiva, the daughter of destruction, +who communeth with the spirits of the air, and defeateth +armies by the waving of her wand, hath done this. She +hath cast her enchantments over Agitha, the fairest of +women—the meekest among the daughters of princes.”</p> + +<p>The bards raised songs of lamentation for her fate. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +“Surely,” said they, “when the Chylde Wynde cometh, +his sword, which maketh the brave to fall and bringeth +down the mighty, will break the enchantment.” And the +burden of the songs was—“Return, O valiant Chylde, +conqueror of nations—thou who makest kings captives, +return! Free the enchanted! Deliver the beautiful!”</p> + +<p>Now, the people of the land where the Chylde and his +warriors landed, were stricken with terror at their approach. +They fled before them, as sheep fly upon the hills when +the howl of the hungry wolf is heard. He overthrew their +king, he took possession of his kingdom. He took his +crown, and he brought it to Ethelfrith, whose ambition +was boundless as the sea. He brought it as the price of +Agitha’s hand.</p> + +<p>It was morn. The sun rose with his robes of glory over +the sea. Bethoc, the daughter of Gormack the weird, +stood upon the turrets of Ida’s tower. She was performing +incantations to the four winds of heaven. She called upon +them to lift up the sea on their invisible wings, to raise +its waves as mountains, and whelm the ships upon its +bosom. But the winds obeyed not her voice, and the sea +was still. In the bay of Budle lay the vessels of the Chylde +Wynde, and the weapons of his warriors flashed in the +sunbeams and upon the sea. Therefore was the spirit of +Queen Bethoc troubled. It was troubled lest the enchantment +should be broken—Agitha delivered from the spell, +and her wrongs avenged.</p> + +<p>As a great wave rolleth in majesty to the shore, so advanced +the warrior ships of Chylde Wynde, the subduer +of heroes. The people came forth to meet him with a +shout of joy. “He is come,” they cried; “the favoured +of the stars, the Chylde of the sharp sword, is come to +deliver Agitha the beautiful, to break the spell of her enchantment.”</p> + +<p>He heard the dark tale. His bosom heaved. He rent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +the robe that covered him. His grief was as the howling +of the winter wind, in a deep glen between great mountains. +He threw himself upon the earth and wept.</p> + +<p>But again the spirit of Woden came upon him. It +burned within his bosom as a fierce flame. He started to +his feet. To his lips he pressed the sword of his father. +He vowed to break the enchantment that entombed his +betrothed.</p> + +<p>He rushed towards the cave of Elgiva, the worker of +wonders. His warriors feared to follow him. The people +stood back in dismay. For by the waving of Elgiva’s +wand she turned the swords of warriors upon themselves, +she caused them to melt in their hands.</p> + +<p>At the mouth of her cave stood the enchantress. By +her side lay the serpent-worm.</p> + +<p>“Daughter of wickedness!” shouted the Chylde, +“break thy accursed spell; restore the fair form of my +Agitha, else the blood of thy heart shall dissolve the +charm.”</p> + +<p>“Hearken, O Chylde,” cried the enchantress; “thou +subduer of kings, thou vanquisher of the strong—sharp is +thy sword, but against me it hath no power. Would it +pierce the breast that suckled thee?—the breast of her +that bore thee?”</p> + +<p>From the hand of the warrior dropped his uplifted sword. +“Mother!” he exclaimed. He fell on his knees before +her.</p> + +<p>“Yea, thy mother,” answered the enchantress; “who, +when her warrior husband fell, fled to the desert, to the cave, +and to the forest, for protection—even for protection from +the love and from the wrath of Ethelfrith the fierce, the +brother of thy warrior father, whose eyes were as the +eagle’s, and his arm great of strength. Uncouth is the +habit, wild is the figure, and idle the art of thy mother. +Broken is her wand which the vulgar feared. That mine +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +eyes might behold my son, this cave became my abode. +Superstition walled it round with fire.”</p> + +<p>“And Agitha?” gasped the warrior.</p> + +<p>“Behold!” answered she, “the loathly worm at the feet +of thy mother.”</p> + +<p>The skins of fish of the deep sea were sewed together +with cords—they were fashioned into the form of a great +serpent.</p> + +<p>“Come forth, my daughter!” cried the enchantress. +Agitha sprang from her disguise of skins. She sank on +the breast of her hero.</p> + +<p>The people beheld her from afar. Their shout of joy +rang across the sea. It was echoed among the hills. A +scream rose from the tower of Ida. From the highest +turret Bethoc the queen had sprung. In pieces was her +body scattered at the foot of the great cliff. They were +gathered together—they were buried in the cave of Elgiva. +From her grave crawled an unclean beast, and it crawleth +around it for ever.</p> + +<p>Ethelfrith died in battle. Woden shut his eyes and saw +him not, and he fell. And Elgiva, the enchantress, the +worker of wonders, was hailed as Rowena, the mother of +Wynde, the subduer of princes; yea, even of Chylde +Wynde, the beloved, and the lord of Agitha the Beautiful.</p> + +<p>Such was the tale of the Saxon bard.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SABBATH WRECKS.</h2> + +<p class="center"><strong>A LEGEND OF DUNBAR.</strong></p> + + +<p>It was a beautiful Sabbath morning in the autumn of +1577: a few small clouds, tinged with red, sailed slowly +through the blue heavens; the sun shone brightly, as if +conscious of the glory and goodness of its Maker, diffusing +around a holy stillness and tranquillity, characteristic of +the day of rest; the majestic Frith flashed back the sunbeams, +while, on its bosom, slowly glided the winged +granaries of commerce; there, too, lay its islands, glorying +in their strength—the May, shrouded in light, appeared as +a leviathan sunning in its rays—and the giant Bass, covered +with sea-fowl, rose as a proud mountain of alabaster in the +midst of the waters. A thousand boats lay along the +shores of Dunbar. It was the herring season—and there +were many boats from the south and from the north, and +also from the coast of Holland.</p> + +<p>Now, tidings were brought to the fishermen that an immense +shoal was upon the coast; and, regardless of its +being Sabbath morning, they began to prepare their +thousand boats, and to go out to set their nets. The Rev. +Andrew Simpson, a man possessed of the piety and boldness +of an apostle, was then minister of Dunbar; and, as +he went forth to the kirk to preach to his people, he beheld +the unhallowed preparations of the fishermen on the beach; +and he turned and went amongst them, and reproved them +sternly for their great wickedness. But the men were +obdurate—the prospect of great gain was before them, and +they mocked the words of the preacher. Yea, some of +them said unto him, in the words of the children to the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +prophet—“Go up, thou bald head.” He went from boat +to boat, counselling, entreating, expostulating with them, +and praying for them.</p> + +<p>“Surely,” said he, “the Lord of the Sabbath will not +hold ye guiltless for this profanation of his holy day.” But, +at that period, vital religion was but little felt or understood +upon the Borders, and they regarded not his words.</p> + +<p>He went to one boat, which was the property of members +of his own congregation, and there he found Agnes Crawford, +the daughter of one of his elders, hanging upon the +neck of her husband, and their three children also clung +around him, and they entreated him not to be guilty of +breaking the Sabbath for the sake of perishing gain. But +he regarded not their voice; and he kissed his wife and +his children, while he laughed at their idle fears. Mr. +Simpson beheld the scene with emotion, and approaching +the group—“John Crawford,” he exclaimed, addressing +the husband, “you may profess to mock, to laugh to scorn +the words of a feeble woman; but see that they return not +like a consuming fire into your bosom when hope has departed. +Is not the Lord of the Sabbath the Creator of +the sea as well as of the dry land? Know ye not that ye +are now braving the wrath of him before whom the mighty +ocean is a drop, and all space but a span? Will ye, then, +glory in insulting his ordinances, and delight in profaning +the day of holiness? Will ye draw down everlasting darkness +on the Sabbath of your soul? When ye were but a +youth, ye have listened to the words of John Knox—the +great apostle of our country—ye have trembled beneath +their power, and the conviction that they carried with +them; and when ye think of those convictions, and contrast +them with your conduct this day, does not the word +<em>apostate</em> burn in your heart? John Crawford, some of +your blood have embraced the stake for the sake of the +truth, and will ye profane the Sabbath which they sanctified? +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +The Scotsman who openly glories in such a sin, forfeits +his claim to the name of one, and publishes to the +world that he has no part nor communion with the land +that gave him birth. John Crawford, hearken unto my +voice, to the voice of your wife, and that of your bairns +(whose bringing up is a credit to their mother), and be not +guilty of this gross sin.” But the fisherman, while he +regarded not the supplications of his wife, became sullen +at the words of the preacher; and, springing into the boat, +seized an oar, and, with his comrades, began to pull from +the shore.</p> + +<p>The thousand boats put to sea, and Mr. Simpson returned +sorrowful from the beach to the kirk, while Agnes Crawford +and her children followed him. That day he took for +his text, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy;” +and, as he fearlessly and fervidly denounced the crime of +Sabbath-breaking, and alluded to the impious proceedings +of the day, his hearers trembled, but poor Agnes wept +aloud, and her children clung around her, and they wept +also, because she wept. But, ere the service had concluded, +the heavens began to lower. Darkness fell over +the congregation—and first came the murmur of the storm, +which suddenly burst into the wild howl of the tempest. +They gazed upon each other in silent terror, like guilty +spirits stricken in their first rebellion by the searching +glance of the Omniscient. The loud voice of psalms was +abruptly hushed, and its echo mingled with the dreadful +music of the elements, like the bleating of a tender lamb, +in the wind that sweepeth howling on the mountains. For +a moment, their features, convulsed and immovable, were +still distended with the song of praise; but every tongue +was silent, every eye fixed. There was no voice, save +heaven’s. The church seemed to rock to its foundations, +but none fled—none moved. Pale, powerless as marble +statues, horror transfixed them in the house of prayer. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +The steeple rocked in the blast, and, as it bent, a knell, +untolled by human hands, pealed on the ears of the breathless +multitude. A crash followed. The spire that glittered +in the morning sun lay scattered in fragments, and the full +voice of the whirlwind roared through the aisles. The +trees crouched, and were stripped leafless; and the sturdy +oak, whose roots had embraced the earth for centuries, +torn from the deep darkness of its foundations, was uplifted +on the wings of the tempest. Darkness was spread over +the earth. Lightnings gathered together their terrors, and, +clothed in the fury of their fearful majesty, flashed through +the air. The fierce hail was poured down as clouds of ice. +At the awful voice of the deep thunder, the whirlwind +quailed, and the rage of the tempest seemed spent.</p> + +<p>Nothing was now heard save the rage of the troubled +sea, which, lashed into foam by the angry storm, still bellowed +forth its white billows to the clouds, and shouted its +defiance loud as the war-cry of embattled worlds. The +congregation still sat mute, horrified, death-like, as if waiting +for the preacher to break the spell of the elements. +He rose to return thanks for their preservation, and he +had given out the lines—</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> +<span style="margin-left: -.4em;">“Lord, in thy wrath rebuke me not,</span><br /> + Nor in thy hot rage chasten me,”</p> + +<p>when the screams and the howling of women and children +rushing wildly along the streets, rendered his voice inaudible. +The congregation rose, and hurrying one upon another, +they rushed from the church. The exhortations of the +preacher to depart calmly were unheard and unheeded. +Every seat was deserted, all rushed to the shore, and Agnes +Crawford and her children ran, also, in terror, with the +multitude.</p> + +<p>The wrecks of nearly two hundred boats were drifting +among the rocks. The dead were strewed along the beach, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +and amongst them, wailing widows sought their husbands, +children their fathers, mothers their sons, and all their +kindred; and ever and anon an additional scream of grief +arose, as the lifeless body of one or other such relation was +found. A few of the lifeless bodies of the hardy crews +were seen tossing to and fro; but the cry for help was +hushed, and the yell of death was heard no more.</p> + +<p>It was, in truth, a fearful day—a day of lamentation, of +warning, and of judgment. In one hour, and within sight +of the beach, a hundred and ninety boats and their crews +were whelmed in the mighty deep; and, dwelling on the +shore between Spittal and North Berwick, two hundred +and eighty widows wept their husbands lost.</p> + +<p>The spectators were busied carrying the dead, as they +were driven on shore, beyond the reach of tide-mark. +They had continued their melancholy task for near an hour, +when a voice exclaimed—“See! see!—one still lives, and +struggles to make the shore!”</p> + +<p>All rushed to the spot from whence the voice proceeded, +and a young man was perceived, with more than mortal +strength, yet labouring in the whirling waves. His countenance +was black with despair. His heart panted with +suffocating pangs. His limbs buffeted the billows in the +strong agony of death, and he strained, with desperate +eagerness, towards the projecting point of a black rock. +It was now within his grasp, but, in its stead, he clutched +the deceitful wave that laughed at his deliverance. He +was whirled around it, dashed on it with violence, and +again swept back by the relentless surge. He threw out +his arms at random, and his deep groans and panting breath +were heard through the sea’s hoarse voice. He again +reached the rock—he grasped, he clung to its tangled sides. +A murmur moaned through the multitude. They gazed +one upon another. His glazed eyes frowned darkly upon +them. Supplication and scorn were mingled in his look. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +His lips moved, but his tongue uttered no sound. He only +gasped to speak—to implore assistance. His strength gave +way—the waters rushed around the rock as a whirlpool. +He was again uplifted upon the white bosom of the foam, +and tossed within a few yards of the wailing but unavailing +crowd.</p> + +<p>“It is John Crawford!” exclaimed those who were enabled +to recognise his features. A loud shriek followed +the mention of his name—a female rushed through the +crowd, and the next moment the delicate form of Agnes +Crawford was seen floating on the wild sea. In an instant, +a hundred plunged to her rescue; but, before the scream +of horror and surprise raised by the spectators when they +beheld her devoted but desperate purpose, had subsided, +she was beyond the reach of all who feared death. Although +no feminine amusement, Agnes, from a child, had +delighted in buffeting the waters as though she felt at home +upon their bosom; and now the strength of inspiration +seemed to thrill through her frame. She was hidden from +the gaze of the marvelling spectators, and a deep groan +crept along the shore. She again appeared, and her fair +hand grasped the shoulder of the drowning man! A shout +of wild joy rang back on the deserted town. Her father, +who was amongst the multitude, fell upon his knees. He +clasped his hands together—“Merciful Heaven!” he exclaimed, +“Thou who stillest the tempest, and holdest the +waters in the hollow of thy hand, protect—protect my +child!”</p> + +<p>The waters rioted with redoubled fury. Her strength +seemed failing, but a smile of hope still lighted up her features, +and her hand yet grasped her apparently lifeless +burden. Despair again brooded on the countenances of +her friends. For a moment, she disappeared amongst the +waves; but the next, Agnes Crawford lay senseless on the +beach, her arm resting on the bosom of him she had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +snatched from a watery grave—on the bosom of her husband.</p> + +<p>They were borne to their own house, where, in a few +minutes, she recovered; but her husband manifested no +sign of vitality. All the means within their power, and +that they knew, were resorted to, in order to effect his +resuscitation. Long and anxiously she wept over him, +rubbing his temples and his bosom, and, at length, beneath +her hand his breast first began to heave with the returning +pulsation of his heart.</p> + +<p>“He lives!—he breathes!” she exclaimed; and she sank +back in a state of unconsciousness, and was carried from +the room. The preacher attended by the bedside, where +the unconscious fisherman lay, directing and assisting in +the operations necessary for restoring animation.</p> + +<p>In a few hours the fisherman awoke from his troubled +sleep, which many expected would have been the sleep of +death. He raised himself in the bed—he looked around +wistfully. Agnes, who had recovered, and returned to the +room, fell upon his bosom. “My Agnes!—my poor +Agnes!” he cried, gazing wistfully in her face—“but, +where—where am I?—and my bairnies, where are they?”</p> + +<p>“Here, faither, here!” cried the children, stretching out +their little arms to embrace him.</p> + +<p>Again he looked anxiously around. A recollection of +the past, and a consciousness of the present, fell upon his +mind. “Thank God!” he exclaimed, and burst into +tears; and when his troubled soul and his agitated bosom +had found in them relief, he inquired, eagerly—“But, oh, +tell me, how was I saved?”</p> + +<p>“John,” said the aged elder, the father of Agnes, “ye +was saved by the merciful and sustaining power o’ that +Providence which ye this morning set at nought. But I +rejoice to find that your heart is not hardened, and that +the awful visitation which has this day filled our coast +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +with widows and with orphans, has not fallen upon you in +vain; for ye acknowledge your guilt, and are grateful for +your deliverance. Your being saved is naething short o’ +a miracle. We a’ beheld how long and how desperately +ye struggled wi’ the raging waves. A scream burst upon +my ear—a woman rushed through the crowd—and then, +John!—oh, then!”—— But here the feelings of the old +man overpowered him. He sobbed aloud, and pausing for +a few moments, added—“Tell him, some o’ ye.”</p> + +<p>The preacher took up the tale. “Hearken unto me, +John Crawford,” said he. “Ye have reason, this day, to +sorrow, and to rejoice, and to be grateful beyond measure. +In the morning, ye mocked my counsel and set at nought +my reproof; and as ye sowed so have ye reaped. But, as +your faither-in-law has told ye, when your face was recognised +from the shore, and your name mentioned, a +woman screamed—she rushed through the multitude—she +plunged into the boiling sea, and in an instant she was +beyond the reach of help!”</p> + +<p>“Speak!—speak on!” cried the fisherman eagerly; and +he placed his hands on his heaving bosom, and gazed +anxiously, now towards the preacher, and again towards +his Agnes, who wept upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“The Providence that had till then sustained you, +while your fellow creatures perished around you,” added +the clergyman, “supported her. She reached you—she +grasped your arm. After long struggling, she brought +you within a few yards of the shore; a wave overwhelmed +you both and cast you upon the beach, with her arm—the +arm of your wife that saved you—upon your bosom!”</p> + +<p>“Gracious Heaven!” exclaimed the fisherman, pressing +his wife to his bosom—“my ain Agnes!—was it you?—was +it you?—my wife!—my saviour!” And he wept +aloud, and his children wept also.</p> + +<p>But the feelings of the wife and the mother were too +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +strong for words. I will not dwell upon the joy and gratitude +of the family to whom the husband and the father +had been restored as from the dead. It found a sorrowful +contrast in the voice of lamentation and of mourning, +which echoed along the coast like the peal of an alarm-bell. +The dead were laid in heaps upon the beach, and, +on the following day, widows, orphans, parents, and +brothers, came from all the fishing towns along the coast, +to seek their dead amongst the drowned that had been +gathered together; or, if they found them not, they wandered +along the shore to seek for them where the sea +might have cast them forth. Such is the tale of the +Sabbath wrecks—of the lost drave of Dunbar.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p class="center"><strong>END OF VOL. VI.</strong></p> + +<hr style="width: 95%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a>The Pease Bridge.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a>I find it more +convenient, in this tale, to give names to my personages, in place of initials.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a>Best-looking, or +most beautiful.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a>Linnets</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_E_5"><span class="label">[E]</span></a>Chaffinch</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F_6" id="Footnote_F_6"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_F_6"><span class="label">[F]</span></a>Harvest Home.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G_7" id="Footnote_G_7"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_G_7"><span class="label">[G]</span></a>Palantine—a name given by the Americans and seamen, +to kidnapped individuals, or those who went out voluntarily to be +indented, for a time agreed upon, with any person in America willing +to pay the sum of money required by the captain for their passage out. +The famous Williamson, who first invented the penny-post and directories, +obtained damages from the magistrates of Aberdeen for suppressing his +narrative, in which he exposed them for this +traffic.—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H_8" id="Footnote_H_8"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_H_8"><span class="label">[H]</span></a>A little +reflection will enable the reader to see what true name this fictitious +one is intended to cover.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I_9" id="Footnote_I_9"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_I_9"><span class="label">[I]</span></a> This was +written in 1829, before the Reform Act was dreamt +of.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J_10" id="Footnote_J_10"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_J_10"><span class="label">[J]</span></a>The popular +Ballad of the Laidley (or loathly) Worm of +Spindleston Heugh, was composed by Duncan Frazier, the Cheviot bard, +more than five hundred years ago, and had rendered the legend familiar +far beyond the Borders. The tradition has doubtless been commemorated +by the ancient Saxon bards, when old Duncan turned it into rhyme; and +it is under this supposition that the present tale is told, the narrator +being understood to be a wandering bard of the Saxon race.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K_11" id="Footnote_K_11"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_K_11"><span class="label">[K]</span></a>According to +the venerable Bede, the name of Ida’s queen +was Bidda, and the original name of Bamborough, Biddaburgh.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L_12" id="Footnote_L_12"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_L_12"><span class="label">[L]</span></a>In the old +ballad she is called Margaret.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M_13" id="Footnote_M_13"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_M_13"><span class="label">[M]</span></a>It may be +necessary to mention, that the imaginary deities +of the Saxons were named Woden, Tuisco, Thor, Frea, and Seator. They +also worshipped the sun and moon. Woden was their god of war; and from +him Ida and his descendants professed to spring. We need hardly add +that it is after these objects of pagan worship that we still name +the days of the week; as Woden’s day (Wednesday), Thor’s day (Thursday), +Frea’s day (Friday), &c. &c.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N_14" id="Footnote_N_14"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_N_14"><span class="label">[N]</span></a>Earls.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O_15" id="Footnote_O_15"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_O_15"><span class="label">[O]</span></a>Companions.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_P_16" id="Footnote_P_16"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_P_16"><span class="label">[P]</span></a>Thanes signified men high in power, of various +degrees of rank.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Q_17" id="Footnote_Q_17"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_Q_17"><span class="label">[Q]</span></a><span class="smcap">The Lady</span> +was the appellation given to a queen amongst the Anglo-Saxons.</p></div> + +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILSON'S TALES OF THE BORDERS AND OF SCOTLAND, VOLUME VI***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29030-h.txt or 29030-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/0/3/29030">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/0/3/29030</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> |