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diff --git a/39759-h/39759-h.htm b/39759-h/39759-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6455342 --- /dev/null +++ b/39759-h/39759-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11521 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Vol 18, by Alexander Leighton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +ins { + text-decoration:none; + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; +} +.tnote { + border: dashed 1px; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.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 { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of +Scotland Volume 18, by Alexander Leighton + +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/license + + +Title: Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume 18 + Historical, Traditionary, & Imaginative. + +Author: Alexander Leighton + +Release Date: May 22, 2012 [EBook #39759] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILSON'S TALES OF THE *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>Wilson's</h1> +<h1>Tales of the Borders</h1> +<h2>AND OF SCOTLAND.</h2> + +<div class="center"> +<br /> +<h4>HISTORICAL, TRADITIONARY, & IMAGINATIVE.</h4> + +WITH A GLOSSARY.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +REVISED BY +<h2>ALEXANDER LEIGHTON,</h2> +<i>One of the Original Editors and Contributors.</i> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +VOL. XVIII. +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +LONDON:<br /> +WALTER SCOTT, 14 PATERNOSTER SQUARE,<br /> +AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.<br /> +1884. +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right">Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Thomas of Chartres</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Hugh Miller</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Fugitive</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>John Mackay Wilson</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Bride of Bramblehaugh</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Leighton</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Gleanings of the Covenant</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Professor Thomas Gillespie</i>)—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" style = "padding-left:20px">XIV. <span class="smcap">James Renwick</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" style = "padding-left:20px">XV. <span class="smcap">Old Isbel Kirk</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#OLD_ISBEL_KIRK">105</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" style = "padding-left:20px">XVI. <span class="smcap">The Curlers</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#THE_CURLERS">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" style = "padding-left:20px">XVII. <span class="smcap">The Violated Coffin</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#THE_VIOLATED_COFFIN">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Surgeon's Tales</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Leighton</i>)—</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" style = "padding-left:20px"><span class="smcap">The Monomaniac</span>,</td><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Foundling at Sea</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Campbell</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Assassin</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Campbell</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Prisoner of War</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>John Howell</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_191">191</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Willie Wastle's Account of His Wife</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>John Mackay Wilson</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Stone-breaker</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Campbell</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Laird Rorieson's Will</span>,</td><td align="right">(<i>Alexander Leighton</i>),</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>WILSON'S</h2> +<h2>TALES OF THE BORDERS</h2> +<h3>AND OF SCOTLAND.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THOMAS OF CHARTRES.</h2> + + +<p>One morning, early in the spring of 1298, a small Scottish +vessel lay becalmed in the middle of the Irish Channel, +about fifteen leagues to the south of the Isle of Man. +During the whole of the previous night, she had been borne +steadily southward, by a light breeze from off the fast receding +island; but it had sunk as the sun rose, and she +was now heaving slowly to the swell, which still continued +to roll onward, in long glassy ridges from the north. A +thick fog had risen as the wind fell—one of those low sea +fogs which, leaving the central heavens comparatively clear, +hangs its dense, impervious volumes around the horizon; +and the little vessel lay as if imprisoned within a circular +wall of darkness, while the sun, reddened by the haze, +looked down cheerily upon her from above. She was a +small and very rude-looking vessel, furnished with two lug-sails +of dark brown, much in the manner of a modern +Dutch lugger; with a poop and forecastle singularly high, +compared with her height in the waist; and with sides +which, attaining their full breadth scarcely a foot over the +water, sloped abruptly inwards, towards the deck, like the +wall of a mole or pier. The parapet-like bulwarks of both +poop and forecastle were cut into deep embrasures, and +ran, like those of a tower, all around the areas they enclosed, +looking down nearly as loftily on the midships as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +on the water. The sides were black as pitch could render +them—the sails scarcely less dark; but, as if to shew +man's love of the ornamental in even the rudest stage of +art, a huge misshapen lion flared in vermillion on the +prow, and over the stern hung the blue flag of Scotland, +with the silver cross of St Andrew stretching from corner +to corner.</p> + +<p>From eight to ten seamen lounged about the decks. +They were uncouth-looking men, heavily attired in jerkins +and caps of blue woollen, with long, thick beards, and +strongly-marked features. The master, a man considerably +advanced in life—for, though his eye seemed as bright as +ever, his hair and beard had become white as snow—was +rather better dressed. He wore above his jerkin a short +cloak of blue which confessed, in its finer texture, the +superiority of the looms of Flanders over those of his own +country; and a slender cord of silver ran round a cap of +the same material. His nether garments, however, were +coarse and rude as those of his seamen; and the shoes he +wore were fashioned, like theirs, of the undressed skin of +the deer, with the hair still attached; giving to the foot +that brush-like appearance which had acquired to his countrymen +of the age, from their more polished neighbours, +the appellation of rough-footed Scots. Neither the number, +nor the appearance of the crew, singular and wild as +the latter was, gave the vessel aught of a warlike aspect; +and yet there were appearances that might have led one to +doubt whether she was quite so unprepared for attack or +defence as at the first view might be premised. There ran +round the butt of each mast a rack filled with spears, of +more knightly appearance than could have belonged to a +few rude seamen—for of some of these the handles were +chased with silver, and to some there were strips of pennon +attached; and a rich crimson cloak, with several pieces of +mail, were spread out to the morning sun, on one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +shrouds.</p> + +<p>The crew, we have said, were lounging about the deck, +unemployed in the calm, when a strong, iron-studded door +opened in the poop, and a young and very handsome man +stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"Has my unfortunate cloak escaped stain?" he said to +the master. "Your sea-water is no brightener of colour."</p> + +<p>"It will not yet much ashame you, Clelland," said the +master, "even amid the gallants of France; but, were it +worse, there is little fear, with these eyes of yours, of being +overlooked by the ladies."</p> + +<p>"Nay, now, Brichan, that's but a light compliment from +so grave a man as you," said Clelland. "You forget how +small a chance I shall have beside my cousin."</p> + +<p>"Not jealous of the Governor, Clelland, I hope?" said +the old man, gaily. "Nay, trust me, you are in little +danger. Sir William is perhaps quite as handsome a man +as you, and taller by the head and shoulders; but, trust me, +no one will ever think of him as a pretty fellow. He stands +too much alone for that. Has he risen yet?"</p> + +<p>"Risen!—he has been with the chaplain for I know not +how long. Their Latin broke in upon my dreams two hours +ago. But what have we yonder, on the edge of that bank +of fog! Is it one of the mermaidens you were telling me +of yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the master, "it is but a poor seal, risen to +take the air. But what have we beyond it? By heavens +I see the dim outline of a large vessel, through the fog! +and yonder, not half a bow-shot beyond, there is another! +Saints forbid that it be not the English fleet, or the ships +of Thomas of Chartres! Clelland, good Clelland, do call +up the Governor and his company!"</p> + +<p>Clelland stepped up to the door in the poop, and shouted +hastily to his companions within—"Strange sails in +sight!—supposed enemies—it were well to don your armours."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +And then turning to a seaman. "Assist me, good fellow," +he said, "in bracing on mine."</p> + +<p>"Thomas of Chartres, to a certainty!" exclaimed the +master—"and not a breath to bear us away! Would to +heavens that I were dead and buried, or had never been +born!"</p> + +<p>"Why all this ado, Brichan?" said Clelland, who, assisted +by the sailor, was coolly buckling on his mail. "It was +never your wont before, to be thus annoyed by danger."</p> + +<p>"It is not for myself I fear, noble Clelland," said the +master, "if the Governor were but away and safe. But, +oh, to think that the pride and stay of Scotland should fall +into the merciless hands of a pirate dog! Would that my +own life, and the lives of all my crew, could but purchase +his safety!"</p> + +<p>"Take heart, old man," said Clelland, with dignity. +"Heaven watches over the fortunes of the Governor of +Scotland; nor will it suffer him to fall obscurely by the +hands of a mere plunderer of merchants and seamen.—Rax +me my long spear."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the Governor himself stepped forward from +the door in the poop, enveloped from head to foot in complete +armour. He was a man of more than kingly presence—taller, +by nearly a foot, than even the tallest man +on deck, and broader across the shoulders by full six inches; +but so admirably was his frame moulded, that, though his +stature rose to the gigantic, no one could think of him as a +giant. His visor was up, and exhibited a set of high +handsome features, and two of the finest blue eyes that +ever served as indexes to the feelings of a human soul. +His chin and upper lip were thickly covered with hair of +that golden colour so often sung by the elder poets; and +a few curling locks of rather darker shade escaped from +under his helmet. A man of middle stature and grave +saturnine aspect, who wore a monk's frock over a coat of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +mail, came up behind him.</p> + +<p>"What is to befall us now, cousin Clelland?" said the +Governor. "Does not the truce extend over the channel, +think you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, these are not English enemies, noble sir," replied +the master. "We have fallen on the fleet of the infamous +Thomas of Chartres."</p> + +<p>"And who is Thomas of Chartres?" asked the Governor.</p> + +<p>"A cruel and bloodthirsty pirate—the terror of these +seas for the last sixteen years. Wo is me!—we have +neither force enough to fight, nor wind to bear us away!"</p> + +<p>"Two large vessels," said the Governor, stepping up to +the side, "full of armed men, too; but we muster fifty, +besides the sailors; and, if they attempt boarding us, it +must be by boat. Is it not so, master? The calm which +fixes us here, must prevent them from laying alongside and +overmastering us."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, noble sir," said the master; "but we see only +a part of the fleet."</p> + +<p>"Were there ten fleets," exclaimed Clelland, impatiently, +"I have met with as great odds ashore—and here comes +Crawford."</p> + +<p>The door in the poop was again thrown open, and from +forty to fifty warriors, in complete armour, headed by a tall +and powerful-looking man, came crowding out, and then +thronged around the masts, to disengage their spears. They +were all robust and hardy-looking men—the flower apparently +of a country side; and the coolness and promptitude +with which they ranged themselves round their leader, +to wait his commands, shewed that it was not now for the +first time they had been called on to prepare for battle. +They were, in truth, tried veterans of the long and bloody +struggle which their country had maintained with Edward—men +who, ere they had united under a leader worthy to +command them, had resisted the enemy individually, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +preserved, amid their woods and fastnesses, at least their +personal independence. Such a party of such men, however +great the odds opposed to them, could not, in any circumstances, +be deemed other than formidable.</p> + +<p>"We are not born for peace, countryman," said the +Governor—"war follows us even here. Meanwhile, lie +down, that the enemy mark not our numbers. That foremost +vessel is lowering her boat, and yonder tall man in +scarlet, who takes his seat in the bows, seems to be a leader."</p> + +<p>"It is Thomas of Chartres, himself," said the master. +"I know him well. Some five-and-twenty years ago, we +sailed together from Palestine."</p> + +<p>"And what," asked the Governor, "could have brought +a false pirate there?"</p> + +<p>"He was no false pirate then," replied the master, "but +a true Christian knight; and bravely did he fight for the +sepulchre. But, on his return to France, where he had +been pledged to meet with his lady-love, he fell under the +displeasure of the King, his master; and, ever since, he has +been a wanderer and a pirate. You will see, as he approaches, +the scallop in his basnet; and be sure he will be +the first man to board us."</p> + +<p>"Excellent," exclaimed the Governor, gaily; "we shall +hold him hostage for the good behaviour of his fleet. Mark +me, cousin Crawford. His barge shoves off, and the men +bend to their oars. He will be here in a twinkling. Do +you stand by our good Ancient—would there were but +wind enough to unfurl it!—and the instant he bids us +strike, why, lower it to the deck; but be as sure you hoist +it again when you see him fairly aboard. And you, dear +Clelland, do you take your stand here on the deck beside +me, and see to it, when I am dealing with the pirate, that +you keep your long spear between us and his crew. It +will be strange if he boast of his victory this bout."</p> + +<p>The men, at the command of their leader, had prostrated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +themselves on the deck, while his two brethren in arms, +Crawford and Clelland, stationed themselves at his bidding—the +one on the vessel's poop, directly under the pennon, +the other at his side in the midships. The pirate's barge, +glittering to the sun with arms and armour, and crowded +with men, rowed lustily towards them; but, while yet a +full hundred yards away, a sudden breeze from the west +began to murmur through the shrouds, and the bellying +sails swelled slowly over the side.</p> + +<p>"Heaven's mercy be praised!" exclaimed the master, +"we shall escape them yet. Lay her easy to the wind, +good Crawford—lay her easy to the wind, and we shall +bear out through them all."</p> + +<p>"Nay, cousin, nay," said the Governor, his eyes flashing +with eagerness, "the pirate must not escape us so. Lay +the vessel to. Turn her head full to the wind. And you, +captain, draw off your men to the hold. We must not lose +our good sailors; and these woollens of yours will scarcely +turn a French arrow. Nay, 'tis I who am master now"—for +the old man seemed disposed to linger. "I may +resign my charge, perhaps, by and by; but you must obey +me now."</p> + +<p>The master and his sailors left the deck. The barge of +the pirate came sweeping onward till within two spears' +length of the vessel, and then hailed her with no courtly +summons of surrender. "Strike, dogs, strike! or you shall +fare the worse!" It was the pirate himself who spoke, +and Crawford, at his bidding, pulled down the Ancient. +The barge dashed alongside. Thomas of Chartres, a very +tall and very powerful man, seized hold of the bulwark +rail with one hand, and bearing a naked sword in the +other, leaped fearlessly aboard, within half a yard of where +the Governor stood, half-concealed by the shrouds and the +bulwarks. In a moment the sword was struck down, and +the intruder locked in the tremendous grasp of the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +champion of his time. Crawford hoisted the Ancient, yard-high, +to the new-risen breeze; while Clelland struck his +long spear against the pirate who had leaped on the gunwale +to follow his leader, with such hearty good-will that +the steel passed through targe and corselet, and he fell back +a dead man into the boat. In an instant the concealed +party had sprung from the deck, and fifty Scottish spears +bristled over the gunwale, interposing their impenetrable +hedge between the pirate crew and their leader. For a +moment, the latter had striven to move his antagonist; but, +powerful and sinewy as he was, he might as well have +attempted to uproot an oak of an hundred summers. +While yet every muscle was strained in the exertion, the +Governor swung him from off his feet, suspended him at +arm's length for full half a moment in the air, and then +dashed him violently against the deck. A stream of blood +gushed from mouth and nostril, and he lay stunned and +senseless where he fell. Meanwhile, the crew of the barge, +taken by surprise, and outnumbered, shoved off a boat's +length beyond reach of the spears, and then rested on their +oars.</p> + +<p>"He revives," said the warrior in the monk's frock, +going up to the fallen pirate. "Reiver though he be, he +has fought for the holy sepulchre, and has worn golden +spurs."</p> + +<p>"I will deal with him right knightly," said the Governor. +"Yield thee, Sir Thomas of Chartres," he continued, bending +over the prisoner, and holding up a dagger to his face—"yield +thee true hostage for the good conduct of thy +fleet—or shall I call the confessor?"</p> + +<p>"I yield me true hostage," said the fallen man. "But +who art thou, terrible warrior, that o'ermasterest De Longoville +of France as if he were a stripling of twelve summers? +Art Wallace, the Scottish Champion!"</p> + +<p>"Thou yieldest, De Longoville," said the Governor, "to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +Sir William Wallace of Elderslie. But how is it that I +meet, in the infamous Thomas of Chartres, that true soldier +of the Cross, De Longoville? I have heard minstrels sing +of thy deeds against the Saracen, Sir Knight, while I was +yet a boy; and yet here art thou now, the dread of the +wandering sailor and the merchant—a chief among thieves +and pirates."</p> + +<p>"Alas! noble Wallace, thou sayest too truly," said Sir +Thomas; "but yet wouldst thou deem me as worthy of +pity as of censure, didst thou but know all, and the remorse +I even now endure. For a full year have I determined +to quit this wild, unknightly mode of life, and go a pilgrim +as of old; not to fight for the sepulchre—for the battles of +the Cross are over—not to fight, but to die for it. But I +accept, noble champion, this my first defeat on sea, as a +message from heaven. Accept of me as true soldier under +thee, and I will fight for thee in thy country's quarrel, to +the death."</p> + +<p>"Most willingly, brave De Longoville," said the Governor, +as he raised him from the deck; "Scotland needs +sorely the use of such swords as thine."</p> + +<p>"And deem not her cause less holy," said the monk—for +monk he was, the well-known Chaplain Blair—"deem +not her cause less holy than that of the sepulchre itself; +nor think that thou shalt eradicate the stain of past dishonour +less surely in her battles. The cause of justice, +De Longoville, is the cause of God, contend for it where +we may."</p> + +<p>Wallace returned to De Longoville the sword of which +he had so lately disarmed him; and the pirate admiral, +on learning that the champion was bound for Rochelle, +issued orders to his fleet, which, now that the mist rose, +was found to consist of six large vessels, to follow close +in their wake. The breeze blew steadily from the north-west, +and the ships went careering along, each in her own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +long furrow of white, towards the port of their destination; +the pirate vessels keeping aloof full two bowshots from the +Scotsman—for so De Longoville had ordered, to prevent +suspicion of treachery. He had set aside his armour, +and now appeared to his new associates as a man of noble +and knightly bearing, tall and stalwart as any warrior +aboard, save the Governor; and, though his hair was +blanched around his temples, and indicated the approach of +age, the light step and quick sparkling eye gave evidence +that his vigour of frame still remained undiminished. He +sat apart, with the Governor and his two kinsmen, Clelland +and Crawford, in the cabin under the poop. It was a rude, +unornamented apartment, as might be expected, from the +general appearance of the vessel; but the profusion of +arms and pieces of armour which hung from the sides, +glittering to the light that found entrance through a casement +in the deck, bestowed on the place an air of higher +pretension. A table with food and wine was placed before +the warriors.</p> + +<p>"It is now twenty-six years, or thereby," said De Longoville, +"since I quitted Palestine for France, with the good +Louis. I had fought by his side on the disastrous field of +Massouna, and did all that a man of mould might to rescue +him from the Saracens, when he fell into their hands, +exhausted by his wounds and his sore sickness. But that +day was written a day of defeat and disaster to the soldiers +of the Cross. Nor need I say how I took my stand, with +the best of my countrymen, on the walls of Damietta, and +maintained them for the good cause, despite of the assembled +forces of the Moslem, until we had bought back our +king from captivity, by yielding up the city we defended +for his ransom. It is enough for a disgraced man and a +captive to say that my services were not overlooked by those +whose notice was most an honour; and that, ere I embarked +for France, I received the badge of knighthood from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +hand of the good Louis himself.</p> + +<p>"You all know of how different a character Charles of +Anjou was from his brother the king. I had returned from +the crusade rich, only in honour, and found the lady of my +affections under close thrall by her parents, who had resolved +that she should marry Loithaire, Lord of Languedoc. +I knew that her heart was all my own; but I knew, besides, +that I must become wealthy ere I could hope to compete +for her with a rival such as Loithaire; and the good Pope +Nicholas having made over the crown of the Two Sicilies to +Charles of Anjou, in an evil hour I entered the army with +which Charles was to wrest it from the bastard Manfred—having +certain assurance, from the tyrant himself, that, if +he succeeded, I should become one of the nobles of Sicily. +We encountered Manfred at Beneventura, and the bastard +was defeated and slain. But I must blush, as a knight, for +the honour of knighthood—as a Frenchman, for the fair fame +of my country—when I think of the cruelties which followed. +Not the worst tyrants of old Rome could have surpassed +Charles of Anjou in his butcheries. The blood +plashed under the hoofs of his charger as he passed through +the cities of his future kingdom; and, when he had borne +down all opposition, 'twould seem as if, in his eagerness +to destroy all who might resist, he had also determined +to extirpate all who could obey. But his policy proved as +unsound as 'twas cruel and unjust, as the terrible <i>Eve of the +Vespers</i> has since shown. The Princes of Germany, headed +by the chivalrous Conradine of Swabia, united against us in +the cause of the people. But the arms of France were +again triumphant; the confederacy was broken, and the gallant +Conradine fell into the hands of Charles. It was I, +warriors of Scotland! to whom he surrendered; and I had +granted him, as became a knight, an assurance of knightly +protection. But would that my arms had been hewn off at +the shoulders when I first beat down his sword, and intercepted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +his retreat! The infamous Charles treated my +knightly assurance with scorn; and—can you credit such +baseness, noble Wallace!—he ordered Conradine of Swabia—a +true knight, and an independent prince—for instant +execution, as if he were a common malefactor. My blood +boils, even now, when I recall that terrible scene of injustice +and cruelty. The soldiers of France crowded round the +scaffold; and I was among them, burning with shame and +rage. Ere Conradine bent him to the executioner, he took +off his glove, and throwing it amongst us, adjured us, if we +were not all as dead to honour as our leader, to bear it to +some of his kinsmen, who would receive it as a pledge of +investiture in his rights, and as beqeathing the obligation +to revenge his death. Will you blame me, noble Wallace! +that, Frenchman as I was, I seized the glove of Conradine, +and fled the army of Charles; and that, ere I returned to +France, I delivered it up to Pedro of Arragon, the near +kinsman of the last Prince of Swabia?</p> + +<p>"My king and friend, the good Louis, had sailed from +France for Palestine, on his last hapless voyage, ere I had +executed my mission. On my return to France, however, +I found a galley of Toulon on the eve of quitting port, to +join with his fleet, then on the coast of Africa, and, snatching +a hurried interview with the lady of my affections, +maugre the vigilance of her relatives, I embarked to fight +under Louis, as of old, for the blessed sepulchre. We +landed near Tunis, and saw the tents of France glittering +to the sun. But all was silent as midnight, and the royal +standard hung reversed over the pavilion of the good Louis. +He had died that morning of the plague; and his base and +cruel brother, the false Charles of Anjou, sat beside the +corpse. I felt that I had fallen among my enemies; for +though the young King was there, he was weak and inexperienced, +and open to the influence of his uncle. The first +knight I met, as I entered the camp, was Loithaire of Languedoc—now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +the wily friend and counsellor of Charles. +There were lying witnesses suborned against me, who accused +me of the most incredible and unheard-of practices; +and of these Loithaire was the chief. 'Twas in vain I demanded +the combat, as a test of my innocence. The combat +was denied me; my sword was broken before the assembled +chivalry of France; my shield reversed; and sentence +was passed that I should be burnt at a stake, and my +ashes scattered to the four winds of heaven. But it was +not written that I should perish so. Scarce an hour before +the opening of the day appointed for my execution, I broke +from prison, assisted by a brother soldier, whose life I had +saved in Palestine, and escaped to France.</p> + +<p>"I was a broken and ruined man. But how wondrous +the force of true affection! My Agnes knew this; and yet, +knowing all, she contrived to elude her guardians, and fled +with me to the sea-shore, where we embarked, in a ship of +Normandy, for the south of Ireland. From that hour De +Longoville has fought under no banner but his own. I +renounced, in my anger, my allegiance to my country-nay, +declared war with the sovereign who had so injured me. +The years passed, and desperate and dishonoured men like +myself came flocking to me as their leader, till not Philip +himself, or my old enemy Charles, had more kingly +authority on land than De Longoville on the sea. But let +no man again deceive himself as I have done. I had reasoned +on the lax morality and doubtful honour of kings, +and asked myself why I might not, as the admiral and prince +of my fleet, achieve a less guilty, though not less splendid +glory than the bastard William of Normandy, or Edward of +England, or my old enemy Charles of Anjou. But I have +long since been taught that what were high achievements +and honourable conquest in the admiral of a hundred vessels, +is but sheer piracy in the captain of six. I can trust, however, +that the last days of De Longoville may yet be deemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +equal to the first; and that the middle term of his life may +be forgiven him for its beginning and its close. Not a +month since, I carried my wife and daughter to France, +and took final leave of them, with the purpose of setting +out on my pilgrimage to Palestine. That intention, noble +Wallace! is now altered; and I must again seek them out, +that they may accompany me to Scotland."</p> + +<p>"The foul stain of treason, brave Longoville, must be removed," +said the Governor. "Charles of Anjou has long +since gone to his account: does the Lord of Languedoc still +survive!"</p> + +<p>"He still lives," replied the admiral; "his years do not +outnumber my own."</p> + +<p>"Then must he either retract the vile calumny, or grant +you the combat. The young Philip has pledged his knightly +word, when he solicited the visit I am now voyaging to pay +him, that he would grant me the first boon I craved in person, +should it involve the alienation of his fairest province. +That boon, brave De Longoville, will, at least, present you +with the means of regaining your fair fame."</p> + +<p>De Longoville knelt on the cabin floor, and kissed the +hand of the Governor. The conversation glided imperceptibly +to other and lighter matters; time passed gaily in the recital +of stories of chivalrous endurance or exploit; and the gale, +which still blew steadily from the north-west, promised a +speedy accomplishment of their voyage. For four days +they sailed without shifting back or lowering sail; and, on +the morning of the fifth, cast anchor in the harbour of +Rochelle.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the second day after their arrival, a +single knight was pricking his steed through one of the +glades of the immense forest which, at this period, covered +the greater part of the province of Poitiers. He had been +passing, ever since morning, through what seemed an interminable +wilderness of wood—here clustered into almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +impenetrable thickets shagged with an undergrowth of +thorn, there opening into long bosky glades and avenues +that seemed, however, only to lead into recesses still more +solitary and remote than those that darkened around him. +During the early part of the day, the sun had looked down +gaily among the trees, checkering the sward below with a +carpeting of alternate light and shadow; and the knight, +a lover of falconry and the chase, had rode jocundly on +through the peopled solitude; ever and anon grasping his +spear, with the eager spirit of the huntsman, as the fawn +started up beside his courser, and shot like a meteor across +the avenue, or the wild boar or wolf rustled in the neighbouring +brake. Towards evening, however, the eternal +sameness of the landscape had begun to fatigue him; the +sun, too, had disappeared, long before his setting, in a veil +of impenetrable vapour, mottled with grey, ponderous +clouds, betokening an approaching storm; and the horseman +pressed eagerly onward, in the hope of reaching, ere +its bursting, the hostelry in which he had purposed to pass +the evening. He had either, however, mistaken his way or +miscalculated his distance; for after passing dell and +dingle, glade and thicket, in monotonous succession, for +hours on hours, the forest still seemed as dense and unending, +and the hostelry as distant as ever. A brown and +sleepy horror seemed to settle over the trees as the evening +darkened; the thunder began to bellow in long peals, far to +the south, and a few heavy drops to patter from time to +time on the leaves, giving indication of the approaching +deluge. The knight had just resigned himself to +encounter all the horrors of the storm, when, on descending +into a little bosky hollow, through which there +passed a minute streamlet, he found himself in front +of a deserted hermitage. It was a cell, opening, like an +Egyptian tomb, in the face of a low precipice. A rude +stone-cross, tapestried with ivy, rose immediately over the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +narrow door-way.</p> + +<p>"The saints be praised!" exclaimed the knight, leaping +lightly from his horse. "I shall e'en avail myself of the +good shelter they have provided. But thou, poor Biscay," +he continued, patting his steed, "wouldst that thou wert +with thy master, mine host of the Three <i>Fleurs de Lis!</i>—there +is scant stabling for thee here. This way, however, +good Biscay—this way. Thou must bide the storm as thou +best may'st in yonder hollow of the rock." And, leading +the animal to the hollow, he fastened him to the stem of a +huge ivy, and then entered the hermitage.</p> + +<p>It consisted of one small rude apartment, hewn, apparently +with immense labour, in the living rock. A seat +and bed of stone occupied the opposite sides; and in the +extreme end, fronting the door, there was a rude image of +the Virgin, with a small altar of mouldering stone, placed +before it. The evening was oppressively sultry, and, taking +his seat on the bedside, the knight unlaced and set aside +his helmet, exhibiting to the fast-dying light, the brown +curling hair and handsome features of our old acquaintance +Clelland—for it was no other than he. The thunder +began to roll in louder and longer peals, and the lightning +to illumine, at brief intervals, every glade and dingle without, +and every minute object within; when a loud scream +of dismay and terror, blent with the infuriated howl of +some wild animal, rose from the upper part of the dell, and +Clelland had but snatched up his spear and leaped out into +the storm, when a young female, closely pursued by an +enormous wolf, came rushing down the declivity, in the +direction of the hermitage; but, in crossing the little stream, +overcome apparently by fatigue and terror, she stumbled +and fell. To interpose his person between the poor girl +and her ravenous pursuer was with Clelland the work of +one moment; to make such prompt and efficient use of his +spear that the steel head passed through and through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +monster, and then buried itself in the earth beneath, was +his employment in the next. The black blood came spouting +out along the shaft, crimsoning both his hands to the +wrists; and the transfixed savage, writhing itself round on +the wood in its mortal agony, and gnashing its immense +fangs, just uttered one tremendous howl that could be +heard even above the pealing of the thunder, and then +belched out his life at his feet. He raised the fallen girl, +who seemed for a moment to have sunk into a state of +partial swoon, and, disengaging his good weapon from +the bleeding carcass, he supported her to the hermitage in +the rock.</p> + +<p>She was attired in the garb of a common peasant of the +age and country; but there was even yet light enough to +shew that her beauty was of a more dignified expression +than is almost ever to be found in a cottage—exquisite in +colour and form as that which we meet with in the latter, +may often be. There was a subdued elegance, too, in her +few brief, but earnest expressions of gratitude to her deliverer, +that consorted equally ill with her attire. On +entering the hermitage, she knelt before the altar, and +prayed in silence; while Clelland took his seat on the stone +couch where he had before placed his helmet, leaving to +his new companion the settle on the opposite side. Meanwhile +the storm without had increased tenfold. The thunder +rolled overhead, peal after peal, without break or pause; +so that the outbursting of every fresh clap was mingled +with the echoes in which the wide-spread forest had replied +to the last. At times, the opposite acclivity, with +all its thickets, seemed as if enveloped in an atmosphere +of fire—at times one immense seam of forked lightning +came ploughing the pitchy gloom of the heavens, from +the centre to the horizon. The wild beasts of the forest +were abroad. Clelland could hear their fierce howlings +mingled with the terrific bellowings of the heavens. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +dead sultry calm was suddenly broken. A hurricane went +raging through the woods. There was a creaking, crackling, +rushing sound among the trees, as they strained and +quivered to the blast; and a roaring, like that of some huge +cataract, showed that a waterspout had burst in the upper +part of the dell, and that the little stream was coming down +in thunder—a wide and impetuous torrent. Clelland's +fair companion still remained kneeling before the altar. +'Twould seem as her prayer of thanks for her great deliverance +had changed into an earnest and oft-reiterated petition +for still further protection.</p> + +<p>In a pause of the storm, the frightful howlings of a flock +of wolves were heard rising from over the hermitage, as if +hundreds had assembled on its roof of rock. Clelland +sprung from his seat, and, grasping his spear, stood in the +doorway.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to bide siege," he said to his companion. +"I knew not that these fierce creatures mustered so thickly +here."</p> + +<p>"Heaven be our protection!" said the maiden. "They +fill every recess of the forest. I had left my mother's this +evening for but an instant—'twas in quest of a tame fawn—when +the monster from whose murderous fangs you +delivered me, started up between me and my home; and I +had to fly from instant destruction into the thick of the +forest."</p> + +<p>"And so your place of residence is quite at hand?" said +Clelland. "In the course of a long day's journey, I have +not met with a single human habitation."</p> + +<p>"The hermitage," replied the maiden, "is but a short +half-mile from my mother's—would that we were but safe +there!"</p> + +<p>As she spoke, the howling of the wolves burst out again, +in frightful chorus, from above, and at least a score of the +ravenous animals came leaping down over the rock, brushing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +in their descent the ivy and the underwood. Clelland +couched his spear, so that nothing could enter by the narrow +doorway without encountering its sharp point. But +the wolves came not to the attack; and their yells and +howlings from the hollow of the rock, blent with the terrified +snortings and pawings of poor Biscay, shewed that +they were bent on an easier conquest, and bulkier, though +less noble prey. The animal, in his first struggle, broke +loose from his fastenings, and went galloping madly past; +and an intensely bright flash of lightning, that illumined +the whole scene of terror without, shewed him in the act +of straining up the opposite bank, with a huge wolf fastened +to his lacerated back, and closely pursued by full +twenty more.</p> + +<p>It was, in truth, a night of dread and terror. Towards +morning, however, the storm gradually sunk into a calm +as dead as that which had preceded it, and a clear, starry +sky looked down on the again silent forest. The maiden, +now that there was less of danger, was rendered thoroughly +unhappy by thoughts of her mother. She had left her, she said, +but for an instant—left her solitary in her dwelling; +and how must she have passed so terrible a night! Clelland +strove to quiet her fears. There was a little cloud in the +east, he said, already reddening on its lower edge; in an +hour longer, it would be broad day, and he could then conduct +her to her mother's.</p> + +<p>"You have not always worn such a dress as that which +you now wear," he continued; "nor have you spent all your +days on the edge of the forest. Does your father still live?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I am a native of France," she at length said; "but I +have passed most of my time in other countries. My +father, in fulfilment of a vow, is now bound on a pilgrimage +to Palestine."</p> + +<p>"And may I not crave your name?" asked Clelland.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My name," she replied, "is Bertha de Longoville. +Brave and courtly warrior, but for whose generous and +knightly daring I would have found yester-evening a +horrid tomb in the ravenous maw of the wolf, do not, I +pray you, ask me more. A vow binds me to secrecy for +the time."</p> + +<p>"Nay, fear not, gentle maiden," said Clelland, "that +what you but wish to keep secret, I shall once urge you to +reveal. But hear me, lady, and then judge how far I am +to be trusted. You are the only daughter of Sir Thomas +de Longoville, once a true soldier of the blessed Cross, but, +in his latter days, less fortunate in his quarrels. Your +father is now in France, and in two weeks hence will be +in Paris."</p> + +<p>"Saints and angels!" exclaimed the maiden, "he has +fallen into the hands of his enemies!"</p> + +<p>"Not so, lady; he is among his best friends. The +knightly word of Sir William Wallace of Elderslie, who +never broke faith with friend or enemy, is pledged for his +safe-keeping. With my kinsman, he is secure of at least +safety—perhaps even of grace and pardon. But the day +has broken, maiden; suffer me to conduct you to your +mother's."</p> + +<p>They left the hermitage together, and ascended the side of +the dell. As they passed the hollow in the rock, a bright +patch of blood caught the eye of Clelland.</p> + +<p>"Ah, poor Biscay!" he exclaimed; "there is all that +now remains of him; and how to procure another steed in +this wild district, I know not. My kinsman will be at +Paris long ere his herald gets there. Well, there have +been greater mishaps. Yonder is the carcass of the wolf +I slew yester-evening, half eaten by his savage companions."</p> + +<p>The morning, we have said, was calm and still; but the +storm of the preceding night had left behind it no doubtful +vestiges of its fury. The stream had fallen to its old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +level, and went tinkling along its channel, with a murmur +that only served to shew how complete was the silence; but +the banks were torn and hollowed by the recent torrent, +and tangled wreaths of brushwood and foliage lay high on +the sides of the dell. The broken and ragged appearance +of the forest gave evidence of the force of the hurricane. +The fallen trees lay thick on the sides of the more exposed +acclivities—some reclining like spears, half bent to the +charge, athwart the spreading boughs of such of their neighbours +as the storm had spared; others lay as if levelled by +the woodman, save that their long flexile roots had thrown +up vast fragments of turf, resembling the broken ruins of +cottages. And, in an opening of the wood, a gigantic oak, +the slow growth of centuries, lay scattered over the soil, in +raw and splintery fragments, that gave strange evidence +of the irresistible force of the agent employed in its destruction. +The trees opened as they advanced, and they +emerged from the forest as the first beams of the sun had +begun to glitter on the topmost boughs. A low, moory +plain, walled in by a range of distant hills, and mottled +with a few patches of corn, and a few miserable cottages, +lay before them. A grey detached tower, somewhat resembling +that of an English village church, rose on the +forest edge, scarce a hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>"Yonder tower, Sir Knight," said the maiden, "is the +dwelling of my mother. Alas! what must she not have +endured during the protracted horrors of the night!"</p> + +<p>"There is, at least, joy waiting her now," said Clelland; +"and all will soon be well."</p> + +<p>They approached the tower. It was a small and very +picturesque erection, of three low stories in height, with +projecting turrets at the front corners, connected by a hanging +bartizan, over which there rose a sharp serrated gable, +to the height of about two stories more. A row of circular +shot-holes, and a low, narrow door-way, were the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +openings in the lower storey—the few windows in the +upper, long and narrow, and scarce equal in size to a +Norman shield, were thickly barred with iron. The building +had altogether a dilapidated and deserted appearance; +for the turrets were broken-edged and mouldering, and +some of the large square flags had slidden from off the +stone roof, and lay in the moat, which, from a reservoir, had +degenerated into a quagmire, mantled over with aquatic +plants, and with, here and there, a bush of willow springing +out from the sides. A single plank afforded a rather +doubtful passage across; and the iron-studded door of the +fortalice lay wide open. Clelland hung back as the maiden +entered.</p> + +<p>"My daughter! my Bertha!" exclaimed a female voice +from within; "and do you yet live! and are you again restored +to me!"</p> + +<p>The Knight entered, and found the maiden in the embrace +of her mother.</p> + +<p>"That I still live," said Bertha, "I owe it to this brave +and courtly knight. But for his generous daring, your +daughter would have found strange burial in the ravenous +maw of a wolf."</p> + +<p>The mother turned round to Clelland, and grasped his +mailed hand in both hers.</p> + +<p>"The saints be your blessing and reward!" she exclaimed; +"for I cannot repay you. God himself be your reward!—for +earth bears no price adequate to the benefit. You have +restored to the lonely and the broken in spirit her only stay +and comfort."</p> + +<p>"Nay, madam," said Clelland, "I would have done as +much for the meanest serf; for Bertha de Longoville I +could have laid down my life."</p> + +<p>The mother again grasped his hand. She was a tall and +a still beautiful woman, though considerably turned of forty, +and though she yet bore impressed on her countenance no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +unequivocal traces of the distress of the night. She told +them of her sufferings; and was made acquainted in turn +with the frightful adventure in the hermitage, and, more +startling still, with the resolution of her husband to confront +his calumniators at the court of France.</p> + +<p>"We must set out instantly on our journey to Paris, +Bertha," said the matron; "your father, in his imminent +peril, must not lack some one, at least to comfort, if not to +assist him."</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Clelland, "ere your setting out, you must +first take rest enough, to recover the fatigues and watching +of the night. And, besides, how could two unprotected +females travel through such a country as this? Hear me, +lady: I was hastening to Paris in advance of my party; +but now that I have missed my way and lost my good +steed, they will be all there before me. It matters but +little. My kinsman can well afford wanting a herald. I +shall cast myself on your hospitality for the day; and, +to-morrow, should you feel yourself fully recovered, you +shall set out for Paris, under such convoy as I can afford +you."</p> + +<p>Both ladies expressed their warmest gratitude for the +kind and generous offer; and there was that in the thanks +of the younger which Clelland would have deemed price +sufficient for a service much less redolent of pleasure than +that he had just tendered. She was in truth one of the +loveliest women he had ever seen; tall and graceful, and +with a countenance exquisite in form and colour. But, +with all of the bodily and the material that constitutes +beauty, it was mainly to expression, that index of the soul, +that she owed her power. There was a steady light in the +dark hazel eye, joined to an air of quiet, unobtrusive self-possession, +which seemed to sit on the polished and finely +formed forehead, that gave evidence of a strong and equable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +mind; while the sweet smile that seemed to lurk about the +mouth, and the air of softness spread over the lower part of +the face, shewed that there mingled with the stronger traits +of her character the feminine gentleness and sweetness of disposition, +so fascinating in the sex. A little girl from one +of the distant cottages entered the building with a milking +pail in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my good Annette," said the matron, "you left me +by much too soon yester-evening; but it matters not now. +You must busy yourself in getting breakfast for us—meanwhile, +good Sir Knight, this way. The tower is a wild +ruin, but all its apartments are not equally ruinous."</p> + +<p>They ascended, by a stair hollowed in the thickness of +the wall, to an upper story. There was but one apartment +on each floor; so that the entire building consisted but of +four, and the two closet-like recesses in the turrets. The +apartment they now entered was lined with dark oak; a +massy table of the same material occupied the centre; and +a row of ponderous stools, like those which Cowper describes +in his "Task," ran along the wall. An immense +chimney, supported by two rude pillars of stone, and piled +with half-charred billets of wood, projected over the floor; +the lintel, an oblong tablet about three feet in height, was +roughened by uncouth heraldic sculptures of merwomen +playing on harps, and two knights in complete armour +fronting each other as in the tilt-yard. The windows were +small and dark, and barred with iron; and through one of +these that opened to the east, the morning sun, now risen +half a spear's length over the forest, found entrance, in a +square slanting rule of yellow light, which fell on the floor +under a square recess in the opposite wall. The little girl +entered immediately after the ladies and Clelland, bearing +fire and fuel; a cheerful blaze soon roared in the chimney; +and, as the morning felt keen and chill after the recent +storm, they seated themselves before it. An hour passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +in courtly and animated dialogue, and then breakfast was +served up.</p> + +<p>The younger lady would fain have prolonged the conversation—for +it had turned on the struggles of the Scots, and +the wonderful exploits of Wallace—had not her mother +reminded her that they stood much in need of rest to +strengthen them for their approaching journey. They both, +therefore, retired to their sleeping apartments in the turrets; +while the knight, providing himself with a bow and a few +arrows, sallied out into the forest. The practice in woodcraft, +which he had acquired under his kinsman, who, in +his reverses, could levy on only the woods and moors, stood +him in so good stead, that, when dinner-time came round, +a noble haunch of venison and two plump pheasants smoked +on the board. But Bertha alone made her appearance. +Her mother, she said, still felt fatigued, and slightly indisposed; +but she trusted to be able to join them in the course +of the evening.</p> + +<p>There was nothing Clelland had so anxiously wished for, +when spending the earlier part of the day in the wood, as +some such opportunity of passing a few hours with Bertha. +And yet, now that the opportunity had occurred, he scarce +knew how to employ it. The radiant smile of the maiden—her +light, elegant form, and lovely features—had haunted +him all the morning; and he wisely enough thought there +could be but little harm in frankly telling her so. But, +now that the fair occasion had offered, he found that all his +usual frankness had left him, and that he could scarce say +anything, even on matters more indifferent. And, what +seemed not a little strange, too, the maiden was scarcely +more at her ease than himself, and could find not a great +deal more to say. Dinner passed almost in silence; and +Bertha, rising to the square recess in the wall, drew from it +a flagon filled with wine, which she placed before her guest +and a vellum volume, bound in velvet and gold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This," she said, "is a wonderful romaunt, written by a +countryman of yours, of whom I have heard the strangest +stories. Can you tell me aught regarding him?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the knight, taking up the volume, "the book +of Tristram. I am not too young, lady, to have seen the +writer—the good Thomas of Erceldoune."</p> + +<p>"Seen Thomas of Erceldoune! Thomas the Rhymer!" +exclaimed the lady. "And is it sooth that his prophecies +never fail, and that he now lives in Elf-land?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, lady, the good Thomas sleeps in Lauderdale, with +his fathers. But we trust much to his prophecies. They +have given us heart and hope amid our darkest reverses. +He predicted the years of oppression and suffering which, +through the death of our good Alexander, have wasted our +country; but he prophesied, also, our deliverance through +my kinsman, Sir William of Elderslie. We have already +seen much of the evil he foresaw, and much, also, of the +good. Scotland, though still threatened by the power of +Edward, is at this moment free."</p> + +<p>"I have long wished," said Bertha, "to see those warriors +of Scotland whose fame is filling all Europe. And now that +wish is gratified—nay, more than gratified."</p> + +<p>"You see but one of her minor warriors," said Clelland; +"but at Paris you shall meet with the Governor himself. +Your father, Bertha, should he succeed in clearing his fair +fame—and I know he will—sets out with us for Scotland. +Will not you and the lady your mother also accompany +us?"</p> + +<p>"I had deemed my father bound on a pilgrimage to the +holy sepulchre," said Bertha.</p> + +<p>"But he has since thought," said Clelland, "how much +better it were to live gloriously fighting in a just quarrel +beside the first warrior of the world, than to perish obscurely +in some loathsome pesthouse of the Far East. I myself +heard him tender his services to my kinsman."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then be sure," said Bertha, "my mother and I will +not be separated from him. Might one find in Scotland, +Sir Knight, some such quiet tower as this, where two defenceless +women may bide the issue of the contest?"</p> + +<p>"Why defenceless, lady? There are many gallant swords +in Scotland that would needs be beaten down ere you could +come to harm. And why not now accept of Clelland's? +Scotland has greater warriors and better swords; but, trust +me, lady, she cannot boast of a truer heart. Accept of me, +lady, as your bounden knight."</p> + +<p>A rich flush of crimson suffused the face and neck of the +maiden, as she held out her hand to Clelland, who raised +it respectfully to his lips.</p> + +<p>"I accept of thee, noble warrior," she said, "as true and +faithful knight, seeing that thy own generous tender of service +doth but second what Heaven had purposed, when, in +my imminent peril in the wood, it sent thee to my rescue. +Trust me, warrior, never yet had lady knight whom she respected +more."</p> + +<p>Clelland again raised her hand to his lips.</p> + +<p>"I have a sister, lady," he said, "whose years do not outnumber +your own. She lives lonely, since the death of my +mother, in the home of my fathers—a tower roomier and +stronger than this, and on the edge of a forest nearly as +widely spread. You will be her companion, lady, and her +friend; and your mother will be mistress of the mansion. +On the morrow, we set out for Paris."</p> + +<p>The style in which the party travelled was sufficiently +humble. Four small and very shaggy palfreys were provided +from the neighbouring cottages: the ladies and Clelland +were mounted on three of these; and the fourth, led +by a hind, carried the luggage of the party. Before setting +out, the lady had entrusted to the charge of the knight, a +small, but very ponderous casket of ebony.</p> + +<p>"It needs, in these unsettled times," she said, "some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +such person to care for it; and Bertha and I would fare all +the worse for wanting it."</p> + +<p>The journey was long and tedious, and the daily stages +of the party necessarily short. Their route lay through a +wild, half-cultivated country, which seemed to owe much +to the hand of nature, but little to that of man. There was +an ever-recurring succession, day after day, of dreary, wide-spreading +forests, with comparatively narrow spaces between, +which, from the imperfect and doubtful traces of industry +which they exhibited, seemed as if but lately reclaimed +from a state of nature. Groups of miserable serfs, bound +to the soil even more rigidly than their fellow-slaves the +cattle, were plying their unskilful and unproductive labours +in the fields. They passed scattered assemblages of dingy +hovels, with here and there a grim feudal tower rising in +the midst—giving evidence, by the strength of its defences, +of the insecurity and turbulence of the time. The travellers +they met with were but few. Occasionally a strolling +troubadour or harper accompanied them part of the way, +on his journey from one baronial castle to another. At +times, they met with armed parties of travelling merchants, +bound for some distant fair; at times with disbanded artisans, +wandering about in quest of employment; soldiers in +search of a master; or pilgrims newly returned from Palestine, +attired in cloaks of grey, and bearing the scallop in +their caps. The hind, their attendant, bore in his scrip, +from stage to stage, their provisions for the day; and their +evenings were passed in some rude hostelry by the way-side. +The third week had passed, ere, one evening on the +edge of twilight, they alighted at the hostel of St Denis, and +ascertained, from mine host, that they were now within +half a stage of Paris.</p> + +<p>The hostel was crowded with travellers; and the ladies +and Clelland, for the early part of the evening, were fain to +take their places in the common room beside the fire. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +young and handsome troubadour, whose jemmy jerkin, and +cap of green, edged with silver, shewed that he was either +one of the more wealthy of his class, or under the patronage +of some rich nobleman, and who had courteously risen to +yield place to Bertha, had succeeded in reseating himself +beside the knight.</p> + +<p>"The hostel swarms with company," said Clelland, addressing +him—"pray, good minstrel, canst tell me the occasion? +Is there a fair holds to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Sir Knight," said the minstrel, "I should rather +ask of thee, seeing thy tongue shews thee to be a Scot. +Dost not know that thy countryman, the brave Wallace of +Elderslie, is at court, and that all who can, in any wise, +leave their homes for a season, are leaving them, to see +him? It is not once in a lifetime that such a knight may be +looked at. And, besides, have you not heard that the combat +comes on to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard of nothing," said Clelland; "my route +has lain, of late, through the remoter parts of the country. +What combat?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas de Longoville, so long a true soldier of the +cross—so long, too, a wandering pirate—has defied to +mortal combat, Loithaire of Languedoc; and our fair +Philip, through the intercession of Wallace, has granted +him the lists."</p> + +<p>Both the ladies started at the intelligence; and the elder, +wrapping up her face in her mantle, bent her head well +nigh to her knee.</p> + +<p>"And how, good minstrel," said Bertha, in a voice tremulous +from anxiety, "how is it thought the combat will go?"</p> + +<p>"That rests with Heaven, fair lady," said the minstrel. +"Loithaire is known far and wide, as a striker in the lists; +but who has not also heard of De Longoville, and his wars +with the fierce Saracen? Many seem to think, too, that +he has been foully injured by Loithaire. That soul of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +knightly honour, the good Lord Jonville, has already renewed +his friendship with him, as his friend and comrade +in the battles of Palestine, and will attend him to-morrow +in the lists."</p> + +<p>"May all the saints reward him!" ejaculated the elder +lady.</p> + +<p>"And at what hour, Sir Minstrel," asked the knight, +"does the combat come on?"</p> + +<p>"At the turn of noon," replied the minstrel, "when the +shadow first veers to the east. I go to Paris, to find new +theme for a ballad, and to see the good Wallace, who is +himself the theme of so many."</p> + +<p>The travellers were early on the road. With all their +haste and anxiety, however, they saw the sun climbing towards +the middle heavens, while the city was yet several +miles distant. They spurred on their jaded palfreys, and +entered the suburbs about noon. What was properly the +city of Paris in this age, occupied one of the larger islands +of the Seine, and was surrounded by a high wall, flanked +at the angles by massy towers, and strengthened by rows +of thickly-set buttresses; but, on either side the river, there +were immense assemblages of the dirtiest and meanest +hovels that the necessities of man had ever huddled together. +The travellers, however, found but little time for +remark in passing through. All Paris had poured out her +inhabitants, to witness the combat, and they now crowded +an upper island of the Seine, which the chivalry of the age +had appropriated as a scene of games, tournaments, and +duels. Clelland and the ladies had but reached the opposite +bank, when a flourish of trumpets told them that the combatants +had taken their places in the lists, and were waiting +the signal to engage.</p> + +<p>"No further, ladies, no further," said the knight, "or we +shall entangle ourselves in the outer skirts of the crowd, +and see nothing. This way; let us ascend this eminence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +and the scene, though somewhat distant, will be all before +us."</p> + +<p>They ascended a smooth green knoll, the burial mound +of some chieftain of the olden time, that overlooked the +river. The island lay but a short furlong away. They +could look over the heads of the congregated thousands into +the open lists, and see the brilliant assemblage of the beauty +and gallantry of France, which the fame of De Longoville +and his opponent, and the singular nature of their quarrel, +had drawn together. The sun glanced gaily on arms and +armour, on many a robe of rich embroidery and many +a costly jewel, and high over the whole, the oriflame of +France, so famous in story, waved its flames of crimson and +gold to the breeze. Knights and squires traversed the area, +in gay and glittering confusion; and at either end there sat +a warrior on horseback, as still and motionless as if sculptured +in bronze. The champion at the northern end was +cased from head to foot in sable armour, and beside him, +under the blue pennon of Scotland, there stood a group of +knights, who, though tall and stately as any in the lists, +seemed lessened almost to boys in the presence of a gigantic +warrior in bright mail, who, like Saul among the people, +raised his head and shoulders over the proud crests of the +assembled chivalry of France.</p> + +<p>"Yonder, ladies—yonder is my kinsman," exclaimed +Clelland; "yonder is Wallace of Elderslie; and the champion +beside him is Sir Thomas de Longoville."</p> + +<p>There was a second flourish of trumpets. Bertha flung +herself on her knees on the sward, and raised her hands to +her eyes. Her mother almost fainted outright.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said Clelland, "that is but the signal to clear the +lists; the knights hurry behind the palisades, and the champions +are left alone. Fear not, dearest Bertha!—there is a +God in heaven, and——Ah, there is the third flourish! +The champions strike their spurs deep into their chargers;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +and see how they rush forward, like thunder clouds before a +hurricane! They close!—they close!—hark to the crash!—their +steeds are thrown back on their haunches! Look up, +Bertha! look up!—your father has won—he has won! +Loithaire is flung from his saddle, the spear of De Longoville +has passed through hauberk and corslet; I saw the +steel head glitter red at the felon's back. Look up, ladies! +look up!—De Longoville is safe; nay, more—restored to the +honour and fair fame of his early manhood. Let us hasten +and join him, that we may add our congratulations to those +of his friends."</p> + +<p>Why dwell longer on the story of Thomas de Longoville? +No Scotsman acquainted with Blind Harry need be told how +frequent and honourable the mention of his name occurs in +the latter pages of that historian. Scotland became his adopted +country, and well and chivalrously did he fight in her battles; +till, at length, when well nigh worn out by the fatigues +and hardships of a long and active life, the decisive victory +at Bannockburn gave him to enjoy an old age of peace and +leisure, in the society of his lady, on the lands of his son-in-law. +Need we add it was the gallant Clelland who stood +in this relation to him? The chosen knight of Bertha had +become her favoured lover, and the favoured lover a fond +and devoted husband. Of the Governor more anon. There +was a time, at least, when Scotsmen did not soon weary of +stories of the Wight Wallace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FUGITIVE.</h2> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>When Prince Charles Edward, at the head of his hardy +Highlanders, took up his head-quarters in Edinburgh, issuing +proclamations and holding levees, amongst those who +attended the latter was a young Englishman, named Henry +Blackett, then a student at the university, and the son of a +Sir John Blackett of Winburn Priory, in Cheshire. His +mother had been a Miss Cameron, a native of Inverness-shire, +and the daughter of a poor but proud military officer. +From her he had imbibed principles or prejudices in favour +of the house of Stuart; and when he had been introduced +to the young adventurer at Holyrood, and witnessed the +zeal of his army, his enthusiasm was kindled—there was a +romance in the undertaking which pleased his love of enterprise, +and he resolved to offer his sword to the Prince, +and hazard his fortunes with him. The offer was at once +graciously and gratefully accepted, and Henry Blackett was +enrolled as an officer in the rebel army.</p> + +<p>He followed the Prince through prosperity and adversity, +and when Charles became a fugitive in the land of his +fathers, Henry Blackett was one of the last to forsake him. +He, too, was hunted from one hiding-place to another; like +him whom he had served, he was a fugitive, and a price +was set upon his head.</p> + +<p>As has been stated, he imbibed his principles in favour +of the house of Stuart from his mother; but she had been +dead for several years. His father was a weak man—one +of whom it may be said that he had no principles at all;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +but being knighted by King George, on the occasion of his +performing some civic duty, he became a violent defender +of the house of Brunswick, and he vowed that, if the law +did not, he would disinherit his son for having taken up +arras in defence of Charles. But what chiefly strengthened +him in this resolution, was not so much his devotion for +the reigning family, as his attachment to one Miss Norton, +the daughter of a Squire Norton of Norton Hall. She was +a young lady of much beauty, and mistress of what are +called accomplishments; but, in saying this much, I have +recorded all her virtues. Her father's character might be +summed up in one brief sentence—he was a deep, designing, +needy villain. He was a gambler—a gentleman by +birth—a knave in practice. He had long been on terms of +familiarity with Sir John Blackett—he knew his weakness, +and he knew his wealth, and he rejoiced in the attachment +which he saw him manifesting for his daughter, in the hope +that it would be the means of bringing his estates within +his control. But the property of Sir John being entailed, +it consequently would devolve on Henry as his only surviving +son. He, therefore, was an obstacle to the accomplishment +of the schemes on which Norton brooded; and +when the latter found that he had joined the army of the +young Chevalier, he was chiefly instrumental in having his +name included in the list of those for whose apprehension +rewards were offered; and he privately, and at his own expense, +employed spies to go in quest of him. He also endeavoured +to excite his father more bitterly against him. +Nor did his designs rest here—but, as he beheld the fondness +of the knight for his daughter increase, he, with the +cunning of a demon, proposed to him to break the entail; +and when the other inquired how it could be done, he replied—"Nothing +is more simple; deny him to be your heir—pronounce +him illegitimate. There is no living witness of +your marriage with his mother. The only document to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +prove it is some thumbed leaf in the register of an obscure +parish church in the Highlands of Scotland; and we can +secure it."</p> + +<p>To this most unnatural proposal the weak and wicked old +man consented; and I shall now describe the means employed +by Norton to become possessed of the parish register +referred to.</p> + +<p>Squire Norton had a son who was in all respects worthy +of such a father—he was the image of his mind and person. +In short, he was one of the <i>things</i> who, in those days, resembled +those who in our own call themselves <i>men of the +world</i>, forsooth! and who, under that name, infest and corrupt +society—making a boast of their worthlessness—poisoning +innocence—triumphing in their work of ruin—and laughing, +like spirits of desolation, over the daughter's misery and +disgrace, the father's anguish, the wretched mother's tears, +and the shame of a family, which they have accomplished. +There are such creatures, who disgrace both the soul and the +shape of man, who are mere shreds and patches of debauchery—sweepings +from the shops of the tailor, the milliner, and +the hair-dresser—who live upon the plunder obtained under +false pretences from the industrious—who giggle, ogle, pat +a snuff-box, or affect to nod in a church, to be thought sceptics +or fine gentlemen. One of such was young Norton; +and he was sent down to Scotland to destroy the only proof +which Henry Blackett, in the event of his being pardoned, +could bring forward in support of his legitimacy.</p> + +<p>He arrived at a lonely village in Inverness-shire, near +which the cottage formerly occupied by Major Cameron, the +grandfather of Henry, was situated; and of whom he found +that few of the inhabitants remembered more than that +"there lived a man." Finding the only inn that was in the +village much more cleanly and comfortable than he had +anticipated, he resolved to make it his hotel during his residence, +and inquired of the landlady if there were any one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +in the village with whom a gentleman could spend an evening, +and obtain information respecting the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>"Fu' shurely! fu' shurely, sir!" replied his Highland +hostess—"there pe te auld tominie."</p> + +<p>"Who?" inquired he, not exactly comprehending her +Celtic accent.</p> + +<p>"Wha put te auld tominie?" returned she; "an' a tiscreet, +goot shentleman he pe as in a' te toun."</p> + +<p>"The dominie?—the dominie?" he repeated, in a tone of +perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Oigh! oigh! te tominie," added she, "tat teaches te pits +o' pairns, an' raises te psalm in te kirk."</p> + +<p>He now comprehended her meaning; and from her coupling +the dominie's name with the kirk, believed that he +might be of use to him in the accomplishment of his object, +and desired that he might be sent for.</p> + +<p>"Oigh!" returned she, smiling, "an' he no pe lang, for +he like te trappie unco weel."</p> + +<p>Within five minutes, Dugald Mackay, precentor, teacher, +and parish-clerk of Glencleugh, entered the parlour of Mrs +Macnab. Never was a more striking contrast exhibited in +castle or in cottage. Here stood young Norton, bedecked +with all the foppery of an exquisite of his day; and there +stood Dugald Mackay, his thick bushy grey hair falling on +his shoulders, holding in his hand a hat not half the size of +his head, which had neither been made nor bought for him, +and which had become brown with service, and was now +stitched in many places, to keep it together. Round it was +wrapped a narrow stripe of crape browner than itself, and +over all winded several yards of gut and hair-line, with hooks +attached, betokening his angling propensities. Dugald was +a thickset old man, with a face blooming like his native +heather. His feet were thrust into immense brogues, as +brown as his hat, and their formidable patches shewed that +their wearer could use the <i>lingle</i> and <i>elshun</i>, although his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +profession was to "teach the young idea how to shoot." +He wore tartan hose—black breeches, fastened at the knees +by silver gilt buckles, and much the worse for the wear, while, +from the accumulation of ink and dust, they might have +stood upright. His vest was huge and double-breasted, its +colour not recognised by painters; and his shoulders were +covered by a very small tartan coat, the tails of which +hardly reached his waist. Such was Dugald Mackay; and +the youth, plying him with the bottle, endeavoured to ascertain +how far he could render him subservient to his +purpose.</p> + +<p>"You appear fond of angling," said Norton.</p> + +<p>"Fond o' fishing?" returned the man of letters; "ou ay; +ou ay!—hur hae mony time filt te creel o' te shentlemen +frae Inverness, for te sixpence, and te shilling, and te pig +crown, not to let tem gaun pack wi' te empty pasket. And +hur will teach your honour, or tress your honour's hooks, +should you be stopping to fish. Here pe goot sport to your +honour," continued he, raising a bumper to his lips.</p> + +<p>The other, glad to assign a plausible pretext for his visit, +said that he had come a few days for the sake of fishing, and +inquired how long his guest had been in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>"Hur peen schulemaister and parish-clerk in Glencleugh +for forty year," replied Dugald.</p> + +<p>"Parish-clerk!" said Norton, eagerly, and checking himself, +continued—"that is—in the church you mean, you +raise the tunes?"</p> + +<p>"Ou ay, hur nainsel' pe precenter too," answered +Dugald; "put hur be schulemaister and parish-clerk into +te pargain."</p> + +<p>"And what are your duties as parish-clerk?" inquired +the other, in a tone of indifference.</p> + +<p>"Ou, it pe to keep te pooks wi' te marriages, te christenings, +and te deaths. Here pe to your honour's very goot +luck again," said he, swallowing another bumper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus the holder of the birch and parish chronicler began +to help himself to one glass after another, until the candles +began to dance reels and strathspeys before him. At length +the angler, expressing a wish to see such a curiosity as the +matrimonial and baptismal register of a hamlet so remote, +out sallied Dugald, describing curved lines as he went, and +shortly returned, bearing the eventful quartos under his +arm. Norton looked through them, laughing, jesting, and +professing to be amused, and his eye quickly fell upon the +page which he sought. Dugald laughed, drank, and talked, +until his rough head sank upon his breast, and certain nasal +sounds gave notice that the schoolmaster was abroad. In a +moment, Norton transferred the leaf which contained the +certificate of Lady Blackett's marriage, from the volume to +his pocket. His father had ordered him to destroy it; but +the son, vicious as the father, determined to keep it, and to +hold it over him as an instrument of terror to extort money. +The dominie being roused to take one glass more by way of +a night-cap, was led home, as usual, by Mrs Macnab's servant-of-all-work, +who carried the volumes.</p> + +<p>Shortly after this, the marriage between Sir John Blackett +and Miss Norton took place; her father rejoiced in the +success of his schemes, and Henry was disinherited and +disowned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>While the latter events which we have recorded in the +last chapter were taking place, Henry Blackett, the rebel +soldier, was a fugitive, flying from hiding-place to hiding-place, +seeking concealment in the mountains and in the +glens, in the forest and crowded city, assuming every disguise, +and hunted from covert to covert. A reward was +not offered for his apprehension, in particular by government,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +but he was included amongst those whom loyal subjects +were forbidden to conceal; and two emissaries, sent +out by Norton, sought him continually, to deliver him up. +Ignorant of his father's marriage, or of the villain's part he +had acted towards him, though conscious of his anger at +his having joined Prince Charles, he was wandering in +Dumfries-shire, by the shores of the Solway, disguised as a +sailor, and watching an opportunity to return home, when +the hunters after his life suddenly sprang upon him, exclaiming—"Ha! +Blackett, the traitor!—the five hundred +pounds are ours!"</p> + +<p>Armed only with the branch of a tree, which he carried +partly for defence, and as a walking-stick, he repelled them +with the desperate fierceness of a man whose life is at stake. +One he disabled, and the other being unable to contend +against him singly, permitted him to escape. He rushed +at his utmost speed across the fields for many miles, avoiding +the highways and public paths, until he sank panting +and exhausted on the ground. He had not lain long in +this situation when he was discovered by a wealthy farmer, +who was known in the neighbourhood by the appellation of +"canny Willie Galloway."</p> + +<p>"Puir young chield," said Willie, casting on him a look +of compassion, "ye seem sadly distressed. Do ye think I +could be o' ony service to ye? From yer appearance, ye +wadna be the waur o' a nicht's lodging, and I can only +say that ye are heartily welcome to't."</p> + +<p>Henry had been so long the object of pursuit and persecution, +that he regarded every one with suspicion; and +starting to his feet and grasping the branch firmer in his +hand, he said—"Know you what you say?—or would you +betray the wretched?"</p> + +<p>"It is o' nae manner o' use gripping your stick," said +Willie, calmly, "for I'm allooed to be a first-rate cudgel-player—the +best atween Stranraer and Dumfries. But, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +to kennin' what I said, I was offerin' ye a nicht's lodgings; +and as to betrayin' the wretched, I wadna see a hawk strike +doon a sparrow, not a spider a midge, if I could prevent +it."</p> + +<p>"You seem honest," said Henry; "I am miserable, and +will trust you."</p> + +<p>"Be thankit," answered the other; "I dare to say I'm +as honest as my neebors; and, as ye seem in distress, I +will be very happy to serve ye, if I can do't in a creditable +way."</p> + +<p>Willie Galloway was a bachelor of five and forty, and +his house was kept by an old woman, a distant relative, +called Janet White. Henry accompanied him home, and +communicated to him his story. Willie took a liking for +him, and vowed that he would not only shelter him, while +he had a roof over his head, but that he would defend him +against every enemy, while he had a hand that he could +lift; and, the better to ensure his concealment, he proposed +that he should pass as his sister's son, and not even write +to his father to intimate where he was, until the persecution +against those who had "been <i>out</i> with poor Charlie," was +past.</p> + +<p>In the neighbourhood of Willie's farm, there resided an +elderly gentleman, named Laird Howison. He was an +eccentric but most kind-hearted man, of whom many believed +and said that his imagination was stronger then his reason; +and in so saying, it was probable that they were not far from +the truth. But of that the reader will determine as he sees +more of the laird. There resided with him a beautiful +orphan girl, named Helen Marshall, the daughter of the late +parish clergyman, and to whom he had been left guardian +from her childhood. But, as she grew up in loveliness before +him, she became as a dream of futurity that soothed and +cheered his existence; and, although he was already on the +wrong side of fifty, he resolved that, as soon as she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +twenty-one, he would offer her his hand and fortune. Janet +White, the housekeeper and relative of Willie Galloway, +had nursed Helen in infancy; and the lovely maiden was, +therefore, a frequent visitor at his house. She there met +Henry, and neither saw nor listened to him with indifference; +and her beauty, sense, and gentleness, made a like impression +upon him. Willie, though a bachelor, had penetration +enough to perceive that when they met there was meaning +in their eyes; and he began to rally Henry—saying, "Now, +there would be a match for ye!—when the storm has blawn +owre your head, just tak ye that bonny Scotch lassie hame +to England wi' ye as yer wife, and ye will find her a treasure, +such as ye may wander the world round and no find +her marrow."</p> + +<p>As their intimacy and affection increased, Henry communicated +to Helen the secret of his birth and situation; +and, like a true woman, she loved him the more for the +dangers to which he was exposed. He had remained more +than eight months with his friend and protector; and, imagining +that the persecution against himself, and others who +had acted in the same cause, was now abated in its fury, he +forwarded a letter to his father, at Winburn Priory, announcing +his intention of venturing home in a few days, +and begging his forgiveness and protection, until his pardon +could be procured. He, however, intimated to Willie Galloway, +his desire to secure the hand of Helen before he left.</p> + +<p>"Weel, if she be agreeable," said Willie "—and I hae +every reason to believe she is—I wadna blame ye for taking +that step ava; for her auld gowk o' a guardian, Laird +Howison, (though a very worthy man in some respecks), +vows that he is determined to marry her himsel, as soon as +she is ane and twenty; and, as he is up aboot London at +present, ye couldna hae a better opportunity. Therefore, +only ye and Helen say the word, and I'll arrange the business +for ye in less than nae time."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<p>The fair maiden consented; a clergyman had joined their +hands, and pronounced the benediction over them—the +ceremony was concluded, but it was only concluded, when +the two ruffians, who have been already mentioned as hired +by Norton to search for him and secure his apprehension, +and who before had met him by the side of the Solway, +followed by two soldiers, burst into the apartment, crying—"Secure +the traitor! It is he!—Harry Blackett!"</p> + +<p>Helen screamed aloud and clasped her hands.</p> + +<p>"Ye lie! ye lie!" cried Willie—"it is my sister's son—meddle +wi' him wha daur, and us twa will fecht you four, +even in the presence o' the minister."</p> + +<p>So saying, he seized hold of a chair, and raised it to repel +them. Henry followed his example. The soldiers threateningly +raised their fire-arms. Willie suddenly swang round +the chair with his utmost strength, and dashed down their +arms. Henry hastily kissed the brow of his fair bride, and, +rushing through the midst of them, darted from the house, +while Willie, as rapidly following him, closed the door behind +him, and holding it fast, cried—"Run, Harry, my lad!—run +for bare life, and I'll keep them fast here!"</p> + +<p>For several days, the soldiers searched the neighbourhood +for the fugitive; but they found him not, and no one knew +where he had fled. Within a week, Helen disappeared from +Primrose Hall, the seat of her guardian, Laird Howison; +and the general belief was, that she had set out for Cheshire, +to the father of her bridegroom, to intercede with him to +use his influence in his son's behalf. "And," said Willie, +"if she doesna move him to forgie his son, and do his duty +towards him, then I say that he has a heart harder than a +whin-rock."</p> + +<p>But no one knew the object of her departure, nor whither +she had gone. Laird Howison had not returned; and, after +several weeks had passed, and Willie Galloway was unable +to hear ought of either Helen or Henry, he resolved to proceed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +to Cheshire, to make inquiries after them; and for this +purpose purchased an entire suit of new and fashionable +raiment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>On a beautiful summer morning, an old man, slightly +stooping in his gait, was slowly walking down a green lane +which led in the direction from Warrington to Winburn +Priory. Behind him, at a rapid pace, followed a younger +man, of a muscular frame, exceedingly well-dressed, and +carrying over his arm a thick chequered plaid, like those +worn in the pastoral districts of Scotland. He overtook the +elder pedestrian, and accosted him, saying—</p> + +<p>"Here's a bonny morning, freend."</p> + +<p>"Sir?" said the old man inquiringly, slightly lifting his +hat, and not exactly comprehending his companion.</p> + +<p>"Losh, but he's a mannerly auld body that," thought the +other; "I see the siller upon this suit o' claes has been +weel-wared;" and added aloud, "I was observing it's a delightful +morning, sir, and as delightful a country-side; it +wad be a paradise, were it no sae flat."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir!" replied the old man; "but I fear as how the +country looks like a paradise without its innocence."</p> + +<p>"Ye talk very rationally, honest man," said the other, +whom the reader will have recognised to be Willie Galloway; +"and, if I am no mistaen, ye maun hae some cause +to mak the remark. But, dear me, sir, only look round ye, +and see the trees in a' their glory, the flowers in a' their innocence; +or just look at the rowing burn there, wimplin +alang by oor side, like refined silver, beneath a sun only less +glorious than the Hand that made it; and see hoo the bits +o' fish are whittering round, wagging their tails, and whisking +back and forrit, as happy as kings! Look at the lovely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +and the cheerfu' face o' a' Nature—or just listen to the +music o' thae sinless creatures in the hedges, and in the blue +lift—and ye will say that, but for the inventions and deceitfulness +o' man's heart, this earth wad be a paradise still. +But I tell ye what, freend—I believe that were an irreligious +man just to get up before sunrise at a season like this, and +gang into the fields and listen to the laverock, and look +around on the earth, and on the majesty o' the heavens +rising, he wadna stand for half-an-hoor until, if naebody +were seeing him, he would drap doun on his knees and +pray."</p> + +<p>Much of Willie's sermon was lost on the old man; he, +however, comprehended a part, and said, "Why, sir, I know +as how I always find my mind more in tune for the service +of the church, by a walk in the fields, and the singing of the +birds, than by all the instruments of the orchestra."</p> + +<p>"Orchestra!" said Willie, "what do ye mean?—that's a +strange place to gather devotion frae!"</p> + +<p>"The orchestra of the church," returned the other.</p> + +<p>"The orchestra o' the church!" said Willie, in surprise—"what's +that? I never heard o't before. There's the poopit, +and the precentor's desk, the pews and the square seats, and +doun stairs and the gallery—but ye nonplus me about the +orchestra."</p> + +<p>"Why, our lord of the manor," continued the old man, +"is one who cares for nothing that's good, and he will give +nothing; and as we are not rich enough to buy an organ, +we have only a bass viol, two tenors, and a flute."</p> + +<p>"Fiddles and a flute in a place o' worship!" exclaimed +Willie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," replied the other, marvelling at his manner.</p> + +<p>"Weel," returned Willie, standing suddenly still, and +striking his staff upon the ground, "that beats a'! And +will ye tell me, sir, hoo it is possible to worship yer Creator +by scraping catgut, or blawing wind through a hollow stick?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, master," said the old man, "the use of instruments +in worship is as old as the times of the prophets, and +I can't see why it should be given up. But dost thou think, +now, that thou couldst go into Chester cathedral at twilight, +while the organ filled all round about thee with its deep +music, without feeling in thy heart that thou wast in a +house of praise. Why, sir, at such a time thou couldst not +commit a wicked action. The very sound, while it lifted up +thy soul with delight, would awe thee."</p> + +<p>When their controversy had ended, Willie inquired—"Do +ye ken a family o' the name o' Blackett, that lives aboot this +neeborhood?"</p> + +<p>"I should," answered the old man; "forty years did I +eat of their bread."</p> + +<p>"Then, after sic lang service, ye'll just be like ane o' the +family?" replied Willie.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" said the other, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Ye dinna mean to say," resumed Willie, in a tone of +surprise, "that they hae turned ye aff, in your auld age, as +some heartless wretch wad sell the noble animal that had +carried him when a callant, to a cadger, because it had +grown howe-backet, and lost its speed o' foot. But I hope +that young Mr Henry had nae hand in it?"</p> + +<p>"Henry!—no! no!" cried the old man eagerly—"bless +him! Did you know Mr Henry, your honour?"</p> + +<p>"I did," said Willie; "and I hae come from Scotland +ance errand to see him."</p> + +<p>"But, sir," inquired the old man, tremulously, "do you +know where to find him?"</p> + +<p>"I expect to find him, by this time, at his father's house."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" answered the old domestic, "there has been no +one at the priory for more than twelve months. I don't +know where the old knight is. Henry has not been here +since he went to Edinburgh, and that is nigh to five years +gone now."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ye dumfounder me, auld man," exclaimed Willie; +"but where, in the name o' guidness, where's the wife?—where's +Mrs Blackett?"</p> + +<p>"You will mean your countrywoman, I suppose," said +the other.</p> + +<p>"To be sure I mean her," said Willie—"wha else could +I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! wo is me!" sighed his companion, and he burst +into tears as he spoke, "dost see the churchyard, just +before us?—and they have raised no stone to mark the +spot."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" ejaculated Willie, becoming pale with horror, +and fixing upon his fellow-pedestrian a look of agony—"Ye +dinna say—dead!"</p> + +<p>"Even so!—even so!" said the old domestic, sobbing +aloud.</p> + +<p>"And hoo was it?" cried Willie; "was it a fair strae +death—or just grief, puir thing—just grief?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I can't say how it was," answered his informant; +"but I wish I durst tell all I think."</p> + +<p>"Say it!—say it!" exclaimed Willie, vehemently, "what +do you mean by, if you durst say all you think? If there +be the shadow o' foul play, I will sift it to the bottom, +though it cost me a thousand pounds; and there is anither +that will gie mair."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, I am but a friendless old man," replied the +other, "that could not stand the weight of a stronger +arm."</p> + +<p>"Plague take their arms!" cried Willie, handling his +cudgel, as if to shew the strength of his own—"tell what +ye think, and they'll have strong arms that dare touch a +hair o' yer head."</p> + +<p>"Well, master," was the reply, "I don't like to say too +much to strangers, but if thou makest any stay in these +parts, I may tell thee something; and I fear that wherever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +poor Henry is, he is in need of friends. But perhaps your +honour would wish to see her grave?"</p> + +<p>"Her grave!" ejaculated Willie—"yes! yes! yes!—her +grave!—O misery! have I come frae Dumfries-shire to see +a sicht like this?"</p> + +<p>The old man led the way over the stile, hanging his head +and sighing as he went. Willie followed him, drawing his +sleeve across his eyes, as was his custom when his heart +was touched, and forgetting the dress of the gentleman +which he wore, in the feelings of the man.</p> + +<p>"The family vault is in yonder corner," said his conductor, +as they turned across the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"Save us, friend!" exclaimed Willie, looking towards +the spot, "saw ye ever the like o' yon?—a poor miserable +dementit creature, wringing his hands as though his heart +would break!"</p> + +<p>"Tis he! 'tis he!" shouted the old man, springing forward +with the alacrity of youth, "my child!—my dear +young master!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! conscience o' man!" exclaimed Willie, "what sort +o' a dream is this? It canna be possible! <i>Her</i> dead, and +<i>him</i>, oot o' his judgment, mourning owre her grave in the +garb o' a beggar!"</p> + +<p>"Ha! discovered again!" cried Henry fiercely, and +starting round as he spoke; but immediately recognising +the old domestic, on whom time had not wrought such a +metamorphosis as dress had upon Willie Galloway—"Ha, +Jonathan! old Jonathan Holditch!" he added, "do I again +see the face of a friend!" and instantly discovering Willie, +he sprang forward and grasped his extended hand in both +of his.</p> + +<p>The old man sat down upon the grave and wept.</p> + +<p>"Don't weep, Jonathan," said Henry, "I trust that we +shall soon have cause to rejoice."</p> + +<p>"I wish a' may be richt yet," thought Willie; "I took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +him to be rather dementit at the first glance, and <i>rejoice</i> is +rather a strange word to use owre a young wife's grave. +Puir fellow!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Master Henry," said Jonathan, "I do rejoice that +the worst is past; but I must weep too, for there be many +things in all this that I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"Nor me either," said Willie; "but ye say ye think +more than ye dare tell."</p> + +<p>"Why is it, Jonathan," continued Henry, "that there +is no stone to mark my mother's grave? There is room +enough in our burial place. Why is there nothing to her +memory?" he continued, bending his eyes upon her sepulchre. +"Her <i>memory</i>!" he added; "cold, cruel grave; and +is memory all that is left me of such a parent? Is the dumb +dust, beneath this unlettered stone—all!—all! that I can +now call mother? Has she no monument but the tears of +her only surviving child?"</p> + +<p>"A' about his mother," muttered Willie, "who has been +dead for four years, and no a word aboot puir Helen! As +sure as I'm a living man this is beyont my comprehension—I +dinna think he can be <i>a'thegither there</i>!"</p> + +<p>Henry turned towards him and said, "I have much to +ask, my dear friend, but my heart is so filled with griefs +and forebodings already, that the words I would utter +tremble on my tongue; but what of my Helen—tell me, +what of her?"</p> + +<p>"She—she's—weel," gasped Willie, bewildered; "that +is—I—I hope—I trust—that—oh, losh, Mr Blackett, I +dinna ken whare I am, nor what I am saying, for my brain +is as daized as a body's that is driven owre wi' a drift, and +rowed amang the snaw! Has there been onybody buried +here lately?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Galloway!—Mr Galloway!" exclaimed Henry, half-choked +with agitation, and wringing his hand in his, while +the perspiration burst upon his brow—"in the name of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +wretchedness—what—what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dinna speak to me!" said Willie, waving his hand; +"ask that auld man."</p> + +<p>"Jonathan?" exclaimed Henry.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what the gentleman means," said the old +man; "but no one has been buried here since your honoured +mother, and that is four years ago."</p> + +<p>"And whase grave—whase grave did ye bring me to look +at?" inquired Willie, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"My lady's," answered he.</p> + +<p>"Yer leddy's!" returned Willie—"do you mean Mr +Blackett's mother?"</p> + +<p>"Whom else could I mean?" asked old Jonathan, in a +tone of wonder.</p> + +<p>"Wha else could you mean!" repeated Willie; "then, +be thankit! <i>she's</i> no dead!—ye say <i>she's</i> no dead!" and he +literally leapt for joy.</p> + +<p>"Who dead?" inquired the old man, with <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'increassd'">increased</ins> astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Wha dead, ye stupid auld body!—did I no say <i>his wife</i>, +as plain as I could speak?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Whose</i> wife?" inquired Jonathan, looking from Willie +to his master in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Whose wife!" reiterated Willie, weeping, laughing, +and twirling his stick; "shame fa' ye—ye may ask that +noo, after knocking my heart oot o' the place o't wi' yer +palaver. Whase wife do ye say?—ask Mr Henry."</p> + +<p>"Mr Galloway!" interrupted Henry, "am I to understand +that you believed this to be the grave of my beloved +Helen?—or, how could you suppose it? Has she left +Primrose Hall?—or, has our marriage——Tell me all you +know, for I wist not what I would ask."</p> + +<p>Willie then related to him what the reader already knows—namely, +that she had left Dumfries-shire, and was supposed +to have gone to his father's.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Blessings on the day that these eyes beheld the dear +lady, then," exclaimed old Jonathan; "for I could vow that +she is under my roof now."</p> + +<p>"Under <i>your</i> roof!" cried Henry.</p> + +<p>"Was ye doited, auld man, that ye didna tell me that +before?" said Willie.</p> + +<p>"I knew no more of my young master's marriage, until +just now, than these gravestones do," said Jonathan; "the +dear lady who is with us told nothing to me. Only my +wife told me that she knew she loved our young master."</p> + +<p>"But why is she lodging with you, Jonathan? I have +learned that my father is abroad, and is it that he is soon +expected home?"</p> + +<p>"A fever caused her to be an inmate of my poor roof," +answered Jonathan, "after she had been rudely driven from +the gate as a common beggar. But I am no longer thy +father's servant—and I wish, for thy sake, I could forget +he was thy father; for he has done that which might make +the blessed bones beneath our feet start from their grave. +And there is no one about the Priory now, but the creatures +of the villain Norton."</p> + +<p>Henry entreated that the old man would not speak +harshly of his father, though he had so treated them; and +he briefly informed them, that, on flying from Scotland to +escape his pursuers even at his father's lodge, he again met +one of the individuals who had hunted him as "Blackett, +the traitor," and who had attempted to seize him in the +hour of his marriage—and that even there the cry was again +raised against him; and a band, thirsting for his blood-money, +joined in the pursuit. He had fled to the churchyard, +and found concealment in the family vault, where he +had remained until they then discovered him, as, in the +early morning, he had ventured out.</p> + +<p>Willie counselled that there was now small vengeance to +be apprehended from the persecution of the government;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +and when Jonathan stated that Sir John had married the +daughter of Norton, and disinherited Henry by denying his +marriage with his mother, Willie exclaimed—"I see it a', +Mr Henry, just as clear as the A, B, C. This rascal, ye ca' +Norton, or your faither, (forgie me for saying sae,) has employed +the villains wha hunted for yer life; it has been +mair them than the government that has been to blame. +Therefore, my advice is, let us go and drive the thieves out +o' the house by force."</p> + +<p>Henry, who was speechless with grief, horror, and disgust, +agreed to the proposition of his friend, and they proceeded +to the Priory by a shorter road than the lodge.</p> + +<p>Henry knocked loudly at the door, which was opened by +a man-servant, who attempted to shut it in his face; but, +in a moment the door was driven back upon its hinges, and +the menial lay extended along the lobby; and Henry, with +his sturdy ally, and old Jonathan, rushed in. Alarmed by +the sound, the other servants, male and female, hurried to +the spot; and epithets, too opprobrious to be written, were +the mildest they applied to the young heir, as he demanded +admission.</p> + +<p>"Then let us gie them club-law for it," cried Willie, "if +they will have it; and they shall have it to their heart's +content, if I ance begin it."</p> + +<p>Armed with such weapons as they could seize at the moment, +the servants menacingly opposed their entrance; but +Henry, dashing through them, rushed towards the stairs, +where he was followed by four men-servants, two armed +with swords, and the others with kitchen utensils.</p> + +<p>But Willie, following at their heels, cried—"Come back!" +and, bringing his cudgel round his head, with one tremendous +swoop caused it to rattle across the unprotected legs +of the two last of the pursuers, and, almost at the same +instant, before their comrades had ascended five steps from +the ground, they, from the same cause, descended backwards,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +rolling and roaring over their companions. Within +three seconds, all four were conquered, disarmed, and unable +to rise. As the discomfited garrison of the Priory +gathered themselves together, (much in the attitude of +Turks or tailors,) groaning, writhing, and ruefully rubbing +their stockings, Willie, with the composed look of a philosopher, +addressed to them this consoling and important information—"Noo, +sirs, I hope ye are a' <i>sensibly</i> convinced, +what guid service a bit hazel may do in a willing hand; +and if ony o' yer banes are broken, I would recommend ye +to send for the doctor before the swelling gets stiff about +them. But ye couldna hae broken banes at a cannier place +on a' the leg than just where I gied ye the bits o' clinks; +they were hearty licks, and would gie them a clean snap, +so that, in the matter o' six weeks, ye may be on your feet +again."</p> + +<p>Old Jonathan had already followed Henry up stairs; and +Willie having finished his exhortation, proceeded in quest +of them. Henry succeeded in obtaining a change of raiment; +and having sent for one who had been long a tenant +upon the estate, he left the house in charge to him, with +orders that he should immediately turn from it all the creatures +of Norton, and engage other servants; and he and his +friend, Willie, proceeded to the house of old Jonathan, +where, as the latter supposed, a lady that he believed to be +the wife of his young master, then was.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>Mrs Holditch (the wife of old Jonathan) was wandering +up the lane in quest of her husband, wondering at the +length of his absence, and fretting for his return; for "the +sweet lady," as she termed Helen, "would not take breakfast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +without them." She had proceeded about half a mile +from the cottage, when she was met by none other than +Laird Howison of Primrose Hall, and the following dialogue +took place:—</p> + +<p>"Will ye hae the kindness to inform me, ma'am, if the +person that used to keep the gate of Sir John Blackett lives +ony way aboot here?"</p> + +<p>"He does, sir," replied she, with low obeisance.</p> + +<p>"And, oh!" interrupted he, earnestly, "know ye if there +be a young leddy frae Scotland stopping there at present—for +I have heard that there is? Ye'll no think me inquisitive, +ma'am; for really if ye kenned what motive I hae for +asking, ye would think it motive enough."</p> + +<p>"There be, your honour," returned she, "and a dear excellent +young lady she is."</p> + +<p>"Oh! if it be her that I mean," said he, "that she is +<i>dear</i>, indeed, I have owre guid reason to ken, and her excellence +is written on every line o' her beautiful countenance. +But, if I'm no detaining ye, ma'am, may I just ask +her name?"</p> + +<p>"She bade us call her Helen, sir," replied she; "we +know no other."</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" cried he, "it's just Helen!—Helen, and +nothing else to me! Mony a time has that name been +offered up wi' my prayers. But I thought, ma'am, ye said +she bade <i>you</i> call her Helen."</p> + +<p>"Yes, your honour," said she; "I be the wife of old +Jonathan Holditch, and she be staying with us now."</p> + +<p>"Bless you!" he exclaimed, "for the shelter which yer +roof has afforded to the head o' an orphan. But, oh! +what like is <i>your</i> Helen? Is her neck whiter than the +drifted snaw? Does her hair fa' in gowden ringlets, like +the clouds that curl round the brows o' the setting sun? +Is her form delicate as the willow, but stately as the young +pine? Is her countenance beautiful as the light o' laughing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +day, when it chases sickness and darkness together +from the chamber o' the invalid? If she isna a' this—if +her voice isna sweeter than the sough o' music on a river—dear +and excellent she may be, and they may call her +Helen—but, oh! she isna my <i>Helen</i>!—for there is none in +the world like unto <i>mine</i>. But, no! no!—she is <i>not mine +now</i>! O Helen, woman! did I expect this? Excuse me, +ma'am, ye'll think my conduct strange; but, when my poor +seared-up heart thinks o' past enjoyment, it makes me forget +mysel'. Do you think your Helen is the same that I +hae come to seek?"</p> + +<p>"A sweeter and a lovelier lady," said she, "never called +Christian man father. She had business at Winburn +Priory; but my husband says she was driven away from the +gate like a dog."</p> + +<p>"It is her!" exclaimed he, "and she's no been at the +Priory, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," returned she.</p> + +<p>"Nor seen ony o' the Blackett family?" added he, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, sir; for there be none of them in the neighbourhood," +answered she.</p> + +<p>"What's this I hear!" cried he:—"Gracious! if I may +again hope!—and why for no? But how is it that she +is stopping wi' you?—wherefore did she not return to +the home where she has been cherished from infancy, and +where she will aye be welcome. Has Helen forgot me +a'thegither?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, sir!" said she; "it was partly grief, I believe, +that brought on a bad fever, and I had fears the sweet, +patient creature would have died in my hands. I sat by +her bedside, watching night after night; and, oh! sir, I +daresay as how it was about you that she sometimes +talked, and wept, and laughed, and talked again, poor +thing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And did <i>ye</i>," he inquired, fumbling with, a pocket +book; "did <i>ye</i> watch owre her? I'm your debtor for +that. And ye think she spoke about <i>me</i>—my name's Howison, +ma'am—Thomas Howison of Primrose Hall, in the +county o' Dumfries. She would, maybe, call me <i>Thomas</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Mr Howison!" replied the old woman: "yes, your +honour, she often mentioned such a name—very often."</p> + +<p>"Did she really," added he; "did she mention me?—and +often spoke about me—often? Then she's no forgotten +me a'thegither!"</p> + +<p>He thrust a bank-note into the hands of Mrs Holditch, +which she refused to accept, saying that "the dear lady had +more than paid her for all that she had done already." But, +while she spoke, they had arrived within sight of the +cottage, and he suddenly bounded forward, exclaiming—"Oh! +haud my heart!" as he beheld Helen, sitting looking +from the window—"yonder she is! yonder she is! O +Helen! Helen!" he cried, rushing towards the door—"wherefore +did ye leave me?—why hae ye forsaken me? +But, joy o' my heart, I winna upbraid ye; for I hae found +ye again."</p> + +<p>With an agitated step, she advanced to meet him—she +extended her hand towards him—she faltered—"My kind, +kind benefactor."</p> + +<p>He heard the words she uttered—with a glance he beheld +the marriage-ring upon her finger—he stood still in the +midst of his transport—his outstretched arms fell motionless +by his side—"O Helen, woman!" he cried in agony, +"do ye really say <i>benefactor</i>?—that isna the word I wish to +hear frae ye. Ye never ca'ed me <i>benefactor</i> before!"</p> + +<p>The few words spoken by the old woman had called up +his buried hopes; but the word <i>benefactor</i> had again whelmed +him in despair.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he continued, dashing away the tears from his +eyes, "my poor mind is flung away upon a whirlwind, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +my brain is the sport o' every shadow! O Helen! I thought +ye had forgotten me!"</p> + +<p>"Forgotten you, my kind dear friend!" said she; "I +have not, I will not, I cannot forget you; and wherefore +would you forget that I can only remember you as a friend?"</p> + +<p>"Poor, miserable, and deluded being that I am," added +he; "I expected, from what the mistress o' this house told +me, that I wouldna be welcomed by the cauldrife names o' +<i>friend</i> or <i>benefactor</i>. Do ye mind since ye used to call me +<i>Thomas</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Howison," answered she, "I know this visit has +been made in kindness—let me believe in parental anxiety. +You have not now to learn that I am a wife, and you can +have heard nothing here to lead you to think otherwise. +I will not pretend to misunderstand your language. But +by what name can I call you save that of friend?—it +was the first and the only one by which I have ever known +you."</p> + +<p>"No, Helen," cried he, wringing her hand; "there was +a time when ye only said <i>Thomas!</i> and the sound o' that ae +word frae yer lips was a waff o' music, which echoed, like +the vibrations o' an angel's harp, about my heart for hours +and for hours!"</p> + +<p>"If," added she, "from having been taught by you to +call you by that name in childhood, when I regarded you +as my guardian, and you condescended to be my playmate, +will you upbraid me with ceasing to use it now, when respect +to you and to myself demand the use of another? Or +can you, by any act of mine, place another meaning upon +my having used it, than obedience to your wishes, and the +familiarity of a thoughtless girl? And, knowing this, is it +possible that the best of men will heap sorrow upon sorrow +on the head of a friendless and afflicted woman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dinna say friendless, Helen," cried he; "friendless +ye canna be while I am in existence. Ye hae torn the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +scales from my eyes, and the first use o' sicht has been to +show me that the past has been delusion, and that the future +is misery, solitary madness, or despair! And hae I really +a' this time mistaen sweetness for love, and familiarity for +affection? Do ye really say that it was only familiarity, +Helen?"</p> + +<p>"The feelings of a sister for a brother," she answered; +"of a daughter for a father."</p> + +<p>"True," said he; "I see it now; I was, indeed, older than +your father—I didna recollect that."</p> + +<p>He sat thoughtful for a few minutes, when Helen, to +change the subject, inquired after her old nurse, Janet +White.</p> + +<p>"Poor body," said he, raising his head, "her spirits are +clean gone. I understand she sits mourning for you by the +fire, cowering thegither like a pigeon that's lost its mate, or +a ewe whose lamb has been struck dead by its side. It +would wring tears from a heart o' stane to hear her lamenting, +morning, noon, and night, for her 'dear bairn,' as she +aye ca'ed ye—rocking her head and chirming owre her sorrow, +like a hen bird owre its rifled nest. I had her owre +at the Hall the day after I cam back frae London, and just +afore I cam here to seek for ye. But there is naething +aboot it that she taks delight in noo. And, when I strove +to amuse her, by taking her through the garden and plantations, +(though I stood mair in need o' comfort mysel'), she +would stand still and lean her head against a tree, in the +very middle o' some o' the bonniest spots, while a tear came +rowing down her cheeks, and look in my face wi' such a +sorrowfu' expression, that a thousand arrows, entering my +breast at ance, couldna hae caused me mair agony. I felt +that I was a puir, solitary, and despised being, only cast +into the midst o' a paradise, that my comfortless bosom +might appear the blacker and the more dismal. The puir +auld body saw what was passing within me, and she shook<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +her head, saying, 'Oh, sir! had I seen ye leading my bairn +down thir bonny avenues as your wife, Janet White would +have been a happy woman.' Then she wrung her withered +hands, and the tears hailed down her cheeks faster and faster; +while I hadna a word o' consolation to say to her, had it +been to save my life. For the very chirping o' the birds +grew irksome, and the young leaves and the silky flowers +painful to look upon. O Helen! if ye only kenned what +we a' suffer on yer account! If ye only kenned what it is +to have hope spired up, and affection preying upon your +ain heart for nourishment, ye wadna be angry at onything +I say."</p> + +<p>"Think not it is possible," she replied, while her tears +flowed faster than her words; "but wherefore feed a hopeless +passion, the indulgence of which is now criminal?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! forgie ye!" he exclaimed, vehemently; "dinna say +that, Helen! Hopeless it may be, but not <i>criminal</i>! That +is the only cruel word I ever heard frae yer lips! I didna +think onybody would hae said that to me! Did you really +say <i>criminal</i>? But, oh! as matters stand, if ye'd only alloo +me to say anither word or twa anent the subject, and if ye +wadna just crush me as a moth, and tak pleasure in my +agonies—or hae me to perish wi' the sunless desolation o' +my ain breast—ye'll alloo me to say them. They relate to +my last consolation—the last tie that links me and the +world together!"</p> + +<p>"Speak," said Helen; "let not me be the cause of misery +I can have power to prevent."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then!" replied he, "be not angry at what I'm going +to say; and mind, that, on your answer depends the future +happiness or misery o' a fellow-being. Yes, Helen! upon +your word depends life and hope—madness and misery; I +say life and hope—for, if ye destroy the one, the other winna +hand lang oot; and I say madness—for, oh! if ye had been +a witness o' the wild and the melancholy days and nights<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +that I hae passed since I learned that ye had left me, and +felt my heart burning and beating, and my brain loup, louping +for ever, like a living substance, and shooting and stinging +through my head, like stings o' fire, till I neither kenned +whar I was, nor what I did; but stood still, or rushed out +in agony, and screamed to the wind, or gripped at the echo +o' my voice!—I say, if ye had seen this, ye wadna think it +strange that I made use o' the words. And, now, as ye +have heard nothing from——from Henry Blackett, from the +night that the ceremony o' marriage was performed—and if +ye should hear nothing o' him for seven years to come, ye +will then, ye ken, be at liberty—and will ye say that I may +hope, then? O Helen, woman! say but the word, and I'll +wait the seven years, as Jacob did for Rachel, and count +them but a day if my Helen will bless me wi' a smile o' +hope!"</p> + +<p>As he thus spoke, Mrs Holditch bustled into the room, +exclaiming—"O sweet lady, here be one coming thee knows—see! +see! there be my husband, and our own dear young +master Henry, come to make us happy again!"</p> + +<p>"My Henry!" exclaimed Helen, springing towards the +door—"where—oh, where?".</p> + +<p>"Here, my beloved! here!" replied Henry, meeting her +on the threshold.</p> + +<p>Poor Laird Howison stood dumb, his mouth open, his +eyes extended, staring on vacancy. He beheld the object +of his delirious love sink into her husband's arms, and saw +no more. He clasped his hands together, and, with a deep +groan, reeled against the wall. Henry and Helen, in the +ecstasy of meeting each other, were unconscious of all +around, and Willie Galloway was the first to observe his +countryman.</p> + +<p>"Preserve us! you here, too, Mr Howison!" said he. But +the features of the laird remained rivetted in agony, and +betrayed no symptom of recognition. The mention of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +laird's name by Willie, arrested the attention of Henry, and +approaching him, he said—"Sir, to you I ought to offer an +apology."</p> + +<p>The unhappy man wildly grasped the hand of Henry, and +seizing also Helen's, he exclaimed—"It is a' owre now! +The chain is forged, and the iron is round my soul. But I +bless you baith. Tak her! tak her!—and hear me, Henry +Blackett—as ye would escape wrath and judgment, be kind +to her as the westlin' winds and the morning dews to the +leaves o' spring. Let it be your part to clothe her countenance +wi' smiles and her bosom wi' joy! Fareweel, +Helen!—look up!—let me, for the last time, look upon +your face, and I will carry that look upon my memory to +the grave!"</p> + +<p>She gazed upon him wildly, crying—"Stay!—stay!—you +must not leave us!"</p> + +<p>"Now!—now, it is past!" he cried; "it was a sair +struggle, but reason mastered it! Fareweel, Helen!—fareweel!"</p> + +<p>Thus saying, he rushed out of the house, and Willie Galloway +followed him; but, although fleet of foot, he was +compelled to give up the pursuit.</p> + +<p>A few minutes after the abrupt and wild departure of +the laird, and before Helen had recovered from the shock, +the ruffians, who, at the instigation of Norton, had hunted +after Henry to deliver him up to the government, and from +whom he had already twice escaped, rushed into the room, +exclaiming—"Secure the traitor!"</p> + +<p>Henry sprang back to defend himself, and Willie Galloway, +who had returned, threw himself into a pugilistic +attitude. But Helen, stepping between her husband and +his pursuers, drew a paper from her bosom, and placing it +in his hands, said—"My Henry is free! he is pardoned!—the +king hath signed it!—laugh at the bloodhounds!" And, +as she spoke, she sank upon his breast. He opened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +paper; it was his pardon under the royal signature and +the royal seal! "My own!—my wife!—my wife!" cried +Henry, pressing her to his heart, and weeping on her neck.</p> + +<p>"That crowns a'!" exclaimed Willie Galloway; "O +Helen!—what a lassie ye are!"</p> + +<p>The ruffians slunk from the room in confusion, and Willie +informed them that the sooner they were out of sight it +would be the better for them.</p> + +<p>Helen, on leaving Scotland, had proceeded to London, +where, through the interest of a friend of Laird Howison's, +she gained access to the Duke of Cumberland, and throwing +herself at his feet, had, through him, obtained her husband's +pardon, and that pardon she had carried next her bosom +to his father's house, hoping to find him there.</p> + + + +<p><br /><br />Having divided this tale into chapters, we now come to +the</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3> + + +<p>Henry being now pardoned, Willie Galloway advised that +he should take his wife to his father's house, and remain +there, adding—"Mind ye, Maister Henry, that possession +is nine points o' law—and if ye be in want o' the matter o' +five hundred pounds for present use, or for mair to prove +your birthright at law, I am the man that will advance +it, and that will leave no stone unturned till I see you +righted."</p> + +<p>Willie's suggestion was acted upon; and Henry and +Helen took up their abode in the Priory, where they had +been but a few weeks, when he obtained information that +his father had fallen in a duel, and that his adversary was +none other than Squire Norton, the father of his then wife; +but with his dying breath he declared, in the presence of +his seconds, and invoked them to record it, that his injured +son Henry was his only and lawful heir.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That," exclaimed Norton, with a savage laugh over his +dying antagonist, "it will cost him some trouble to prove!"</p> + +<p>The murderer, in the name of a child which his daughter +had borne to Sir John, had the hardihood to enter legal +proceedings to obtain the estate.</p> + +<p>Henry applied to the parish of Glencleugh for the register +of his mother's marriage; but no such record was found. +Old Dugald Mackay had a dreamy recollection of such a +marriage taking place; but he said—"It pe very strange +that it isna in te pook; hur canna swear to it."</p> + +<p>Many thought that the day would be given against Henry, +and pitied him; but before judgment was pronounced in +the case, young Norton was found guilty of forgery, and +condemned to undergo the just severity of the law. Previous +to his ignominious death, in the presence of witnesses, +he confessed the injury he had done to Henry by tearing +the leaves from the parish register, and directed where they +might be found. They were found—old Norton fled from +the country, and Henry obtained undisputed possession of +the estate; but on his father's widow and child he settled +a competency.</p> + +<p>Laird Howison's sorrow moderated as his years increased; +and when Henry and Helen had children, and when they +had grown up to run about, he requested that they should +be sent to him every year, to pull the primroses around +Primrose Hall; and they were sent. One of them, a girl, +the image of her mother, he often wept over, and said, he +hoped to live to love her, as he had loved her mother. Willie +Galloway often visited his friends in Cheshire, and remained +"canny Willie" to the end of the chapter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BRIDE OF BRAMBLEHAUGH.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + + +<p>It has been stated by the greatest critics the world ever +saw—whose names we would mention, if we did not wish +to avoid interfering with the simplicity of our humble annals—that +no fictitious character ought to be made at once +virtuous and unfortunate; and the reason given for it is +that mankind, having a natural tendency to a belief of an +adjustment, even in this world, of the claims of virtue and +the deserts of vice, are displeased with a representation +which at once overturns this belief, and creates dissatisfaction +with the ways of Providence. This may be very good +criticism, and we have no wish to find fault with it as +applied to works intended to produce a certain effect on the +minds of readers; but, so long as Nature and Providence +work with machinery whose secret springs are hid from our +view, and evince—doubtless for wise purposes—a disregard +of the adjustment of rewards and punishments for virtue +and vice, we shall not want a higher authority than critics +for exhibiting things as they are, and portraying on the page +of truth, wet with unavailing tears, goodness that went to +the grave, not only unrewarded, but struck down with +griefs that should have dried the heart and grizzled the hairs +of the wicked.</p> + +<p>In a little haugh that runs parallel to the Tweed—at a +part of its course not far from Peebles, and through which +there creeps, over a bed of white pebbles, a little burn, whose +voice is so small, except at certain places where a larger +stone raises its "sweet anger" to the height of a tiny</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<p>"buller," that the lowest note of the goldfinch drowns it +and charms it to silence—there stood, about the middle of +the last century, a cottage. Its white walls and dark roof, +with some white roses and honeysuckle flowering on its +walls, bespoke the humble retreat of contentment and +comfort. The place went by the name of Bramblehaugh, +from the sides of the small burn being lined, for several miles, +with the bramble. The sloping collateral ground was +covered with shrubs and trees of various kinds, which +harboured, in the summer months, a great collection of +birds—the blackbird, the starling, the mavis, and others of +the tuneful choir—whose notes rendered harmonious the +secluded scene where they sang unmolested. The spot is +one of those which, scattered sparingly over a wild country, +woo the footsteps of lovers of nature, and, by a few months +of their simple charms, regenerate the health, while they +quicken and gratify the business-clouded fancies of the +denizens of smoky towns.</p> + +<p>The cottage we have now described was occupied by +David Mearns, and his wife Elizabeth, called, by our national +contraction, Betty. These individuals earned a livelihood, +and nothing more, by the mode in which poor cotters in +Scotland contrive to spin out an existence; the leading feature +of which, contentment, the result of necessity, is often +falsely denominated happiness by those whose positive pleasures, +chequered by a few misfortunes, are forgotten in the +contemplation of a state of life almost entirely negative. +Difficulties that cannot be overcome deaden the energies +that have in vain been exerted to surmount them; and, +when all efforts to better our condition are relinquished, we +acquire a credit for contentedness, which is only a forced +adaptation of limited means to an unchangeable end. David +Mearns, who had, in his younger days, been ruined by a high +farm, had learned from misfortune what he would not have +been very apt to have received from the much-applauded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +philosophy which is said to generate a disposition to be +pleased with our lot. The bitterness of disappointment, and +the wish to get beyond the reach of obligations he could not +discharge, suggested the remedy of a reliance simply on his +capability of earning a cotter's subsistence; and having +procured a cheap lease of the little domicile of Bramblehaugh, +he set himself down, with the partner of his hopes +and misfortunes, to eat, with that simulated contentment +we have noticed, the food of his hard labour, with the relish +of health, and to extract from the lot thus forced upon him +as much happiness as it would yield. The cottage and the +small piece of ground attached to it, was the property of an +old man, who, having made a great deal of money by the +very means that had failed in the hands of David Mearns, +had purchased the property of Burnbank, lying on the side +of the small rivulet already mentioned, and, in consequence, +it was said, of Betty Mearns bearing the same name, +(Cherrytrees,) though there was no relationship between +them, had let to David the small premises at a low rent.</p> + +<p>A single child had blessed the marriage of David Mearns +and his wife—a daughter, called Euphemia, though generally, +for the sake of brevity and kindliness, called Effie; +an interesting girl, who, at the period we speak of, had arrived +at the age of sixteen years. In a place where there +were few to raise the rude standard of beauty formed in the +minds of a limited country population, she was accounted +"bonny"—a much—abused word, no doubt, in Scotland, but +yet having a very fair and legitimate application to an interesting +young creature, whose blue eyes, however little real +town beauty they may have expressed or illuminated, gave +out much tenderness and feeling, accompanied by that inexpressible +look of pure, unaffected modesty, which is the first, +but the most difficult gesture of the female manner attempted +to be imitated by those who are destitute of the feeling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +that produces it. An expression of pensiveness—perhaps +the fruit of the early misfortunes of her parents operating +on the tender mind of infancy, ever quick in catching, with +instinctive sympathy, the feeling that saddens or enlivens +the spirits of a mother—was seldom abroad from her countenance, +imparting to it a deep interest, and, by suggesting +a wish to relieve the cause of so early an indication of incipient +melancholy, creating an instant friendship, which subsequent +intercourse did not diminish.</p> + +<p>Walter Cherrytrees, the Laird of Burnbank, a man approaching +seventy years of age, had a daughter, Lucy, about +the same age as Effie Mearns. He had lost his wife about +fifteen years before; and—though a feeling of anxiousness +often found its way to his heart, suggesting to his vacant +mind, as the cure of his listlessness and the balm of his bereavement, +another wife—he had for a long time been nearly +equally poised between the hope of Lucy becoming his comfort +in his old age, and the wish for a tender partner of pleasures +which, without participation, lose their relish. His +daughter, Lucy, was a sprightly, showy girl, who, having got +a good education, might, with the prospect she had of inheriting +her father's property, have been entitled to look for +a husband among the sons of the neighbouring proprietors, +if her father's secluded mode of life, and plain, blunt manners, +had not to a great extent limited her intercourse to a +few acquaintances, by no means equal to him in point of +wealth or status, however estimable they might have been +in other respects. A more pleasant companion to the old +Laird of Burnbank could not be found, from the one end of +Bramblehaugh to the other, than David Mearns, his tenant, +whose honesty and bluntness, set off by a fertility of simple +anecdote, had charms for one of the same habits of thought +and feeling, which all the disadvantages of his poverty could +not counterbalance. The intimacy of the fathers produced, +at a very early period, a friendship between the daughters,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +who, notwithstanding, could not boast of the resemblance of +thought and manners, and community of feeling, which +formed the foundation of the attachment existing between +the parents.</p> + +<p>This friendship was not exclusive of some acquaintanceships +with the neighbouring young men and women, which, +however, were in general mutual; neither of the two young +maidens having formed any intimacy with another without, +her friend participating in the friendship. Among others, +Lewis Campbell, the son of a neighbouring farmer, who had +been a large creditor of David Mearns at the time of his +failure, called sometimes at the cottage of Bramblehaugh, +and was soon smitten with a strong love for Effie. They +sometimes indulged in long walks by the side of the river.</p> + +<p>We may anticipate, when we say that the hours spent in +these excursions—in which the greatest beauties of external +nature, and the strongest and purest emotions of two loving +hearts, acting in co-operation and harmony, formed a present +and a future such as poets dream of, and the world +never realizes, but in momentary glimpses—were the happiest +of these lovers. Effie's inseparable companion, Lucy, +frequently met them as they sauntered along by the house +of Burnbank; and the soft breathings of ardent affection +were relieved by the gay and innocent prattle of the companions, +who enjoyed, though in different degrees, the conversation +and manners of the young lover. The simplicity +and single-heartedness of Effie were entirely exclusive of a +single thought unfavourable to an equal openness and +frankness on the part of her companion, whom she had informed, +in her artless way, of the state of her affections. +But what might not have resulted from a mere acquaintanceship +between Lucy and Effie's lover, was called forth +by the pride of the former, whose spirit of emulation, excited +by the good fortune of her poor friend, suggested a +secret wish to alienate the affections of Lewis from her companion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +and direct them to herself. The wish to be beloved, +though the mere effect of emulation, is the surest of the artificial +modes by which love itself is generated in the heart +of the wisher; and Lucy soon became, unknown for a +time to Effie, as much enamoured of young Lewis as was +her unsuspecting friend.</p> + +<p>The first intimation that Effie received of the state of +Lucy's feelings towards her lover, was from Lewis himself. +Sitting at a part of the haugh called the Cross Knowe, from +the circumstance of an old Romish cruciform stone that +stood on the top of a gentle elevation—a place much resorted +to by the lovers—Lewis, unable to conceal a single thought +or feeling from one who so well deserved his confidence, first +told her of the perfidy of her friend.</p> + +<p>"You are not so well supplied with sweethearts, Effie," +he began, "as I am; for I can boast of two besides +you."</p> + +<p>"That speaks little in your favour, Lewie," replied she; +"for, if it was my wish, I could hae a' the young men o' +the haugh makin love to me frae mornin to e'en."</p> + +<p>"That remark, Effie," said Lewis, "implies that I have +courted, or at least received marks of affection, from others +besides you, while I was leading you to suppose that my +heart was entirely yours. Now, that is not justified by what +I said; for one may have sweethearts, and neither know +nor acknowledge them as such."</p> + +<p>"Maybe I am wrang, Lewie," said Effie; "but what was +I to think but that the twa ither sweethearts ye mentioned +were acknowledged by ye? It's no in the pooer o' my puir +heart to conceive how a young woman could love are that +neither kenned nor acknowledged her love. But I speak +frae my ain simple, an' maybe worthless thoughts. The +world's wide, an' haulds black an' fair, weak an' strong, +heigh and laigh; an' wharfore no also hearts an' minds as +different as their bodies? The birds o' this haugh hae only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +their ain single luves; but they're a' coloured alike that belang +to ae kind. Would that it had been God's pleasure to +mak mankind like thae bonny birds!"</p> + +<p>"I fear, Effie," replied Lewis, "that a statement of mine, +intended to be partly in jest, has been construed by you in +such a manner as to produce to you pain. God is my witness +that I am as single-hearted in my affection as the birds +of this haugh; and gaudier colours, sweeter notes, and +better scented bowers will never interfere with the love I bear +to Effie Mearns."</p> + +<p>"What meant ye, then, Lewie, by sayin ye had twa +sweethearts besides Effie Mearns?" said she.</p> + +<p>"That you shall immediately know," replied Lewis +"and you will think more highly of me when I shew you, +by my revealing secrets, not indeed confided to me, but still +secrets, that you have all my heart and the thoughts that it +contains. The first of my other lovers you will not be jealous +of, for she is old Lizzy Buchanan, or, as she calls herself, +Buwhanan, my nurse, who loves me as well as you do, +Effie; but the other, I fear, may create in you an unpleasant +feeling of confidence misplaced, and friendship repaid +by something like treachery. Surely I need say no more."</p> + +<p>"Is it indeed sae, Lewie?" said she. "It's lang sin I +whispered—and my heart beat and my limbs trembled as I +did it—in the ear o' Lucy Cherrytrees, that my puir, silly +thoughts were never aff Lewie Campbell. And what think +ye she said to me? She said I needna look far ayont +Bramblehaugh for a bonnier and a brawer lover."</p> + +<p>"Then," replied Lewis, "I am not much better off than +you are; for she told me that your simplicity, she feared, +was art, and that your poverty made any beauty you +had; and she doubted if that bonny face was not a great +snare for the ruin of a penniless lover."</p> + +<p>"Sae, sae," said she, sighing deeply; "and has the fair +face o' life's friendship put on the looks o' the hypocrite at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +the very time when greater confidence was required? I +hae read in Laird Cherrytrees' books he is sae kind as lend +me, many an example o' fause and faithless creatures, baith +men and women, o' the world, o' the great cities that lie +far ayont oor humble sphere; but little did I think that +here in Bramblehaugh, where our bughts ken nae nicht-thieves, +and our hen-roosts nae reynards, there was ane, and +that ane my friend, wha could smile in my face at the very +moment she was tryin to ruin me in the eyes o' ane wha is +dearest to me on earth."</p> + +<p>As she thus poured forth her feelings with greater loquacity +than she generally exhibited—being for the most +part quiet and gentle—the tears flowed down her cheeks +in great profusion, and she sobbed bitterly, in spite of +all the efforts of Lewis to satisfy her that Lucy's endeavours +to lessen her in his estimation were entirely fruitless.</p> + +<p>"Apprehend nothing, dear Effie, from the discovered +treachery of a false friend," said he, as he pressed her +to his bosom. "It has less power with me than the +whispers of that gentle burn have on the sleeping echoes +of the Eagle's Rock that only answers to the voice of +the tempest."</p> + +<p>"It's no that, Lewie," replied she, wiping away her tears, +"that gies me pain. I hae nae fear o' faith and troth +that has been pledged, and better than pledged; for I +hae seen it i' yer looks, and heard it i' the soonds o' +yer deep-drawn sighs. Thae tears are for a broken friendship—for +the return o' evil for guid—for the withered +blossoms o' a bonny flower I hae cherished and watered, in +the hope it wad yield me a sweet smell when I kissed +its leaves i' the daffin o' youth or the kindliness o' age. If +it is sae sair to lose a friend, what, Lewie—what wad +it be to lose a lover?"</p> + +<p>"The very existence of great evils, Effie," said he,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +"makes us happy, in the thought that they are beyond our +reach."</p> + +<p>"But did I no think," said she, "that I was beyond +the reach o' the pain o' experiencing the fauseness o' +Lucy Cherrytrees—the very creature o' a' ithers, I hae +chosen as my bosom friend—to whom I confided a' my +thochts and the very secret o' my love?"</p> + +<p>"But it is an ill wind that blaws naebody guid, as they +say, Effie," said Lewis. "I can better appreciate your goodness, +now that I have experienced the faithlessness of +another."</p> + +<p>"An' if I hae lost a friend," replied Effie, "I am the +mair sure o' my lover. Ye dinna ken, Lewie, how muckle +this has raised you even in my mind, whar ye hae aye occupied +the highest place. Ye hae rejected the offered luve +o' the braw heiress o' Burnbank, for the humble dochter o' +David Mearns, wha earns his bread in the sweat o' his brow. +Oh! what can a puir, penniless cottager's dochter gie in return +to the man wha, for her sake, turns his back on a big +ha', a thoosand braid acres, an' a braw heiress?"</p> + +<p>"Her simple, genuine, unsophisticated heart," replied +Lewis, "with one unchangeable, devoted affection beating +in its core. Were Burnbank Hall as big as the Parliament +House, and Burnbank itself longer than the lands watered +by the Brambleburn, and Lucy Cherrytrees as fair as our +unfortunate Mary Stuart, I would not give my simple +Effie, with no more property of her own than the bandeau +that binds her fair locks, for Lucy Cherrytrees and all her +lands."</p> + +<p>The two lovers continued their evening walks, indulging +in conversations which, embracing the subject of their affection, +and anticipating the pleasures of their ultimate union, +realized that fullest enjoyment of hope which is said to +transcend possession. No notice was taken of their mutual +sentiments on the subject of Lucy Cherrytrees' affection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +for Lewis, and her unjustifiable attempts to displace her old +friend, to make room for herself in the heart of the contested +object of their wishes.</p> + +<p>Matters continued in this state for some time, Effie being +regularly gratified by a visit from Lewis three times a-week. +On one occasion a whole week passed without any intelligence +of her lover. Her inquiries had produced no satisfactory +explanation of the unusual occurrence; and Fancy, +under the spell of the genius of Fear, was busy in her +vocation of drawing dark pictures of coming evil. At last +she was told by her father, who had procured the intelligence +from a friend of George Campbell, the father, that +young Lewis had been suspected of an intention to marry +the poor daughter of the cottager, David Mearns, and had +been despatched, without a minute's premonition, 'to an +uncle, who was a merchant in Rio de Janeiro. No time had +been given to him to write to Effie; and care had been +taken to prevent him from sending her any intelligence +while he remained at Liverpool, previous to his departure. +The statement was corroborated by intelligence to the same +effect, procured by one of Laird Cherrytrees' servants from +one of the servants of George Campbell, who told it to Lucy, +and who again told it to Effie, with tears in her eyes, which +she took every care to conceal. The effect produced on the +mind of Effie Mearns, by this unexpected misfortune, was +proportioned to its magnitude, and the susceptibility of the +feelings of the delicate individual on whom it operated. For +many days she wept incessantly, refusing the ordinary sustenance +of a life which she now deemed of no importance to herself +or to any one else. All attempts at comforting a +bruised heart were—as they generally are in cases of +disappointed love—unavailing; and the effects of time +seemed only apparent in a quieter, though not in any +degree less poignant sorrow. Every object kept alive the +remembrance of the youth who had first made an impression<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +on her heart, and whose image was graven on every spot of +the neighbourhood which had been consecrated by the exchange +of a mutual passion. The scenes of their wanderings, +hallowed as they had been in her memory, were now +peopled with undefined terrors; and every time that she was +forced abroad to take that air and exercise which latterly +seemed indispensable to her existence, her sorrow received +an accession of power from every tree under which they +had sat, and every knowe or dell where they had listened +to the musical loves of the birds, as they exchanged their +own in not less eloquent sighs.</p> + +<p>The first circumstance that produced any effect on the +mind of the disconsolate maiden, was a misfortune of another +kind, which, realizing the old adage, seemed to follow with +all due rapidity the footsteps of its precursor. Her mother, +who sat on one side of the fire, while Effie occupied her +usual seat in a corner of the cottage in the other, had been +using all the force of her rude but impressive eloquence to +get her daughter to adopt the means that were in her +power for the amelioration of a grief which might render +her childless.</p> + +<p>"I am gettin auld, Effie," she said, "an' you are the +only are I can look to for administerin to yer faither an' to +me that comfort we hae a richt to expect at the hands o' a +dochter wha never yet was deficient in her duty. Our +poverty, which winna be made ony less severe, as ye may +weel ken, by the income o' years, will mak yer attention to +us mair necessary; an' it may even be—God meise the +means!—that your weak hands may yet be required to +work for the support o' yer auld parents. I hae lang intended +to speak to you in this way, and it was only pity for +my puir heart-broken Effie that put me aff frae day to day, +in the expectation that either some news wad come frae +Lewie, or that ye wad get consolation frae anither and a +higher source, to support ye for trials ye may yet hae to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +bear up against, for the sake o' them that brocht ye into the +world. A' ither means hae been tried to get ye to determine +to live, an' no lay yersel doun to dee, an' they havin +failed, what can I do but try the last remedy in my pooer—to +speak, as I hae now dune, to yer guid sense, an' lay afore +ye the duties o' a dutifu' bairn, which are far aboon the +thochts o' a disappointed love. Promise, now, my bonny +Effie, that ye will try to gie up yer mournin, for the +sake o' parents whase love for ye is nae less than Lewie +Campbell's."</p> + +<p>As Betty finished her impressive admonition to Effie, who +acknowledged its force, and inwardly determined on complying +with the request of her mother, an unusual noise at +the door of the cottage startled her anxious ear. It seemed +that a number of people were approaching the cottage, +and the groans of one in deep distress and pain were mixed +with the low talk of the crowd, who, from those inexpressible +indications which the ear can catch and analyse ere +the mind is conscious of the operation, seemed already to +sympathise with one to whom they were bearing a grief. +Housed by that anticipative fear of evil which all unfortunate +people feel, Betty ran to the door, followed by her +daughter, and opened it—to let in the mangled body of her +husband; who, in felling an oak, on the property of Burnbank, +had fallen under the weight of the tree, and got his +leg broken, and one of his arms dislocated at the shoulder-joint. +He was conveyed, by the kind neighbours, to a bed; +and, by the time they got him undressed, for the purpose of +his wounds being submitted to the curative process of the +doctor, that individual arrived, and proceeded to perform +the painful operation of setting the broken bones. The full +effect of this misfortune to Effie and her mother was for a +time suspended by the call made upon them to relieve the +sufferings of the father and husband; and it was not till the +bustle ceased, and the neighbours (excepting two women,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +whose services, in addition to those of the wife and +daughter, might still be required) went away, that they felt +the full force of the gigantic evil that had befallen them, the +consequences of which might extend through the remaining +years of their existence.</p> + +<p>A period of no less than eighteen months passed away, +and David Mearns was still unable to do more than, with +assistance, to rise from his bed, and sit, during a part of the +day, by the fire, or at the window. During the whole of +this time, he had been tended by his daughter with assiduous +care. Her filial sympathies, called into active operation +by the sorrows of her parent, filled up the void that +had been made in her heart by the departure of her lover; +and a new source of grief effected (however paradoxical it +may seem) a change in the morbid melancholy to which she +had been enslaved, which, although not for mental health or +ease, was so much in favour of exertion and remedial exercise, +that she came to present the appearance of one inclined +to endeavour to sustain her sorrow, rather than resign +herself to the fatal power of an irremediable woe. Among +the visitors who took an interest in a family reduced +by one stroke to want and all its attendant evils, Laird +Cherrytrees evinced the strongest concern for the fate of +his friend; and, by a timeous contribution of necessary assistance, +ameliorated, in so far as man could, the unhappy +condition of virtue under the load of misery. The many +visits of the good old laird, and the long periods of time he +passed by the bedside of the patient, enabled him to see and +appreciate the devoted attention of Effie to her parent; and +often, as she flew at the slightest indication of a wish for +something to assuage pain, or remove the uneasiness produced +by the long confinement, he would stop the current +of his narrative, and fix his eyes on the kind maiden, so +long as her tender office engaged her attention and feelings +These long looks, not unaccompanied at times with a deep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +sigh, were attributed, as they well might, to admiration and +approbation of so much filial affection and devotedness exercised +towards one whom the old laird respected above all his +friends.</p> + +<p>The visits of Laird Cherrytrees were at first twice or +thrice a-week. His infirm body already begun to exhibit +the effects of old age, prevented him from walking; and such +was the anxiety he felt for the unhappy patient, that he +mounted his old pony, Donald, nearly as frail as his master, +to enable him to administer consolation so much required. +He came always at the same hour; Effie, who expected him, +was often at the door ready to receive him; and, while she +held old Donald's head till he dismounted, welcomed her +father's friend with so much sincerity and pleasure, that if +she had failed in her ostlership, he would have felt a disappointment +he would not have liked to express. Even when +at a distance from the cottage, he strained his eyes to endeavour +to catch a glimpse of the faithful attendant; and, +if he did not see her, the rein of Donald was relaxed, and +he was allowed to saunter along at his own pleasure, or even +to eat grass by the roadside, (a luxury he delighted in from +his having once belonged to a cadger,) so as to give Effie +time to get to her post.</p> + +<p>The three days of the week on which Laird Cherrytrees +was in the habit of visiting David Mearns, were Monday, +Thursday, and Saturday; and he seldom came without +bringing something to the poor family—either some money +for old Betty; some preserves, prepared by Lucy, for the +invalid; or a book, or a flower from Burnbank garden, for +Effie. When his conversation with David was finished—and +every day it seemed to get shorter and shorter, though +there seemed no lack of either subjects or ideas—he commenced +to talk with Effie, chiefly on the nature and contents +of the books he brought her to read; and nothing seemed +to delight him more than to sit in the large arm-chair by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +David's bedside, and hear Effie discoursing, <i>ex cathedra</i>, (on +a three-footed stool at the foot of the bed, opposite to the +Laird's chair,) with her characteristic simplicity and good +sense, on the subjects he himself had suggested. But, notwithstanding +all her efforts to appear well-pleased in presence +of the man who was supporting her family, her train +of thoughts was often broken in upon by the recollections of +Lewis Campbell, and she would sit for an hour at a time, +with the eyes of the Laird fixed on her melancholy face, as +if he had been all that time in mute cogitation, suggesting +some remedy for her sorrow. His ideas and feelings seemed +to be operated upon by the same power that ruled the mind +of the maiden; for his face followed, in its changing +expressions, the mutations of her countenance. Her melancholy +seemed to be communicated by a glance of her +watery eye, as the thought of Lewis entered her mind; and +when she recovered from her gloomy reverie, a corresponding +indication of relief lighted up the grey, twinkling orbs +of the old Laird. This custom of "glowrin," for whole +hours at a time, on the face of the sensitive girl, at first +painful to her, became a matter of indifference; and the +position and attitudes of the three individuals—Betty being +generally engaged about the house—undergoing, while +the Laird was present, no change, came to assume something +like the natural properties of the parties, as if they +had been fixtures, or lay figures for the study of a painter.</p> + +<p>Every time the Laird came to the cottage, he extended +the period of his stay, and, latterly, he did not stir till a +servant from Burnbank, sent by Lucy, came to take him +home. It seemed as if he could not get enough of +"glowrin;" for, latterly, all his occupation, which at first +consisted of rational conversation, merged in that mute eloquence +of the eye, or rather in that inebriation of the orb, +"drinking of light," which lovers of sights, especially +female countenances, are so fond of. The visits had been so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +regular, not a day being ever missed, that, as Effie held the +stirrup till he mounted Donald, during all which time the +process of "glowrin" went on as regularly as at the bedside +of David, she never thought of asking, and he never thought +of stating, when he would call again. Time had stamped +the act of calling with the impress of unchangeable custom. +The caseless clock of David's cottage was not more regular; +the only change being that already observed—that the +time of the Laird's stay gradually and gradually lengthened.</p> + +<p>The homage paid by Effie to Laird Cherrytrees was, as +may easily be conceived, the respect, attention, and kindness +of an open-hearted girl, filled with gratitude to the +preserver of the lives of her and her parents. Every evening +she offered up, at her bedside, prayers for the preservation +and happiness of the man but for whose kindness +starvation might have overtaken the helpless invalid, and +not much less helpless wife and daughter. In their prayers +the "amen" of David and his wife was the most heart-felt +expression of love and gratitude that ever came from +the lips of mortal. This feeling, however, did not prevent +David Mearns and Betty from sometimes indulging, in the +absence of Effie (in all likelihood giving freedom to her +tears, as she sat in some favourite retreat of her absent +lover,) in some remarks on the extraordinary conduct of +Laird Cherrytrees. They soon saw through the secret, and +resolved upon drawing him out; for which purpose Effie was +to be called away on the occasion of the next visit.</p> + +<p>The Laird came as he used to do, took his seat, and resumed +his gazing. Effie pleased him exceedingly, by an +account she gave him of the last book he brought to her; +and, throwing himself back in the arm chair, he seemed, for +a time, wrapped in meditation. Effie obeyed, in the meantime, +her mother's request, to come for a few minutes to the +green to assist her in her work; and, when the Laird again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +applied his eyes to their accustomed vocation, he was surprised, +but not (for once) displeased, at her disappearance. +A great struggle now commenced between some wish and a +restraint. He looked round the cottage, and then turned +his eyes on David; acts which he repeated several times. +Incipient syllables of words half-formed died away in his +struggling throat. He moved restlessly in the large chair, +and twirled his silver-headed cane in his hand. He even +rose, went to the door, looked out, came back again, and +took his seat without saying a word. Holding away his +face from David, he at last made out a few words, uttered +with great difficulty.</p> + +<p>"She's a fine lassie, Effie," he said.</p> + +<p>"A bonnier an' a better never was brocht up in Bramblehaugh, +savin yer ain Lucy," replied David.</p> + +<p>"Hoo auld is she noo?" said the Laird, still holding +away his face.</p> + +<p>"She will be nineteen come the time," replied David.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity she's sae young," rejoined the Laird, with a +great struggle, and making a noise with his cane, as if he had +repented of his words, and wished to drown them before they +reached the ears of David.</p> + +<p>"I dinna think sae, beggin yer Honour's pardon," replied +David. "We need her assistance, in this trial; an' I'm +just thinkin o' some way she micht use her hands—an she's +willing aneugh, puir cratur—for our assistance."</p> + +<p>"Are ye no pleased wi' my assistance?" said the Laird, +displeased at something in David's reply.</p> + +<p>"Yer Honour has saved our lives," replied David, feelingly, +"an' it wad only be because we are ashamed o +yer guidness that we wad wish our dochter to tak a part +o' that burden aff ane wha is under nae obligation to serve +us."</p> + +<p>"If I hae been yer friend, ye hae been mine," said the +Laird. "I hae got guid advices frae ye; an', even noo, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +hae something to ask ye concernin mysel, that nae ither +man i' the haugh could sae weel answer."</p> + +<p>"What is that, yer Honour?" said David.</p> + +<p>"What do ye think, David Mearns, I should do," said +the Laird, moving about in the chair in evident perplexity, +"if my dochter Lucy were to tak a husband an' leave Burnbank? +I carena aboot fa'in into the hands o' Jenny +Mucklewham, wha, for this some time past, has neither +cleaned my buckles nor brushed my coat as I wad wish. +She says I'm mair fashious; but that's a mere excuse."</p> + +<p>"I hae seen aulder men marry again," said David, thinking +he would please the Laird, by giving him such an answer +as he was clearly fishing for.</p> + +<p>"Aulder men, David, man!" replied the Laird, looking +down at his person, and adjusting his wig. "Did I ask ye +onything aboot my age? I wanted merely your advice, what +I should do in certain circumstances, an' ye gie me a comparison +for an answer.—Do ye think I should marry?"</p> + +<p>"If yer Honour has ony wish in that way, I think ye +should," said David.</p> + +<p>"I never yet did wrang in following your advice, David +Mearns," said the Laird. "—She's a fine lassie, Effie."</p> + +<p>"Ou, ay," responded David, at a loss what more to +say.</p> + +<p>"Very fine," again said the Laird, turning his face +partially from the window, so as the tail of his eye +reached David's face, and waiting for something more.</p> + +<p>David could, however, say nothing. The very circumstance +of the Laird's wishing him to say something pertinent +to the purpose already so broadly hinted at, prevented him +from touching so delicate a subject; and, notwithstanding +of another application of the tail of the Laird's eye, he was +silent.</p> + +<p>"Ye hae gien me ae advice, David," said the Laird, in despair +of getting anything more out of David without a question:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +"could ye no tell me <i>wha</i> I should marry, man?" +And having achieved this announcement, he rose and walked +to the window.</p> + +<p>"That's owre delicate a subject for me to gie an advice +on, yer Honour," replied David. "The doo lays aside +ninety-nine guid straes, an' taks the hundredth, though a +crooked ane, for its nest. Ye maun judge for yersel."</p> + +<p>"What say ye to yer ain Effie, then?" said the Laird, relieved +at last from a dreadful burden.</p> + +<p>"If yer Honour likes the lassie, an' she'll tak yer Honour, +I can hae nae objections," replied David.</p> + +<p>The Laird, who seemed twenty years younger after this +declaration, took David by the hand, and shook it till the +pain of his dislocated arm almost made him cry.</p> + +<p>"Will ye speak to her aboot it. David!" said he, still +holding his hand. "The best farm o' Burnbank will be +your reward. Plead for me, David, my best friend. Tell +Betty aboot it, and get her to use a mother's pooer. If I +can trust my een, Effie doesna dislike me. If a' gaes weel, +ye may hae Ravelrigg, or Braidacre, or Muirfield—onything +that's in my pooer to gie, David." And the old lover, exhausted +by the struggle and excitement he had suffered, +sank back into the chair.</p> + +<p>"I will do my best," replied David. And the old Laird +sighed, and absolutely groaned with pure, unmixed satisfaction.</p> + +<p>At the end of this scene, Effie and her mother came in. +The damsel took her old seat on the three-footed stool at the +foot of the bed; the eyes of the Laird sought again her face, +where he thought they had a better right now to rest. No +more was spoken; enough for a day had been said and done; +and, with a parting look to David, to keep him in remembrance +of his promise, and a purse of money slipped into the +hand of Betty, as a solvent of any obstacle that might exist +in her mind, the lover went to the door to receive Donald<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +from the soft hands of Effie, who, as was her custom, had +gone out before him, to lead the old cadger to the door, and +hold the bridle till he with an effort got into the saddle. +The only difference Effie could observe in his departure +this day, was a kind of mock-gallant wave of the hand, +as he, with more than usual spirit, struck his spurless +heels into Donald's sides, and tried to rise in the saddle, +in response to the hobble of the old Highlander.</p> + +<p>The Laird had been scarcely out of the house, when +David had a communing with his wife, in absence of Effie, +on the extraordinary intimation made by the old lover. +Betty was agreeable to the match; but the tear came into +her eye as she thought of the sacrifice poor Effie was to be +called upon to make. Neither of them could answer for the +consent of Effie, whose melancholy, though somewhat ameliorated, +was little diminished, and whose recollections of +Lewis Campbell were as vivid as they were on the day of his +departure. When she returned from one of her solitary +rambles, which fed her passion and increased her grief, she +was delicately told of the intentions of Laird Cherrytrees. +The announcement of the extraordinary intelligence produced +an effect which neither her father nor mother could +have anticipated. A quick operation of her mind placed +before her all the affectionate acts of attention she had for +years been in the habit of applying to the old friend of her +father, and the preserver of their lives. Gratitude, operating +in one of the most grateful hearts that ever beat in the +bosom of mortal, had produced in her an exuberant kindness, +a devotedness of a species of affection due by a child to +its godfather, a playful freedom of the confidence of one who +relied on the disparity of years for a license from even the +suspicion of a possibility of any other relation existing between +them. That now came back upon her, loaded with self-reproach +and shame, and attributing to her misconstrued +attentions the extraordinary passion that had taken hold of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +the heart of the old Laird. She was totally unable to make +any reply to her parents. The image of Lewis Campbell, +never absent from her mind, assumed a new form, and swam +in the tears which flowed from her eyes. The natural contrast +between age and youth, love and gratitude, assumed its +legitimate strength. The first feeling of her mind was, that +she would suffer the death that had for a time been impending +over her, and whose finger was already on her +breaking heart, rather than comply with the wishes of her +father and mother. They saw the struggle that was in her +mind, and abstained from pressing what they had suggested. +They did not ask her even to give her sentiments; but the +silent tears that stole down her cheek and dropped in her +lap from her drooping head, required no spoken commentary +to tell them the extent of her grief, and the resolution +at least of a heart that might entirely break, as it appeared +to be breaking, but never could forget.</p> + +<p>There was little sleep for the eyes of Effie on the succeeding +night. Her sobs reached the ears of her parents, who, +unable to yield her consolation, were obliged to leave her +to wrestle with her grief; sending up a silent prayer to +the Author of all good dispensations, that He might assuage +the sorrow of one who had already, with exemplary patience, +submitted to the rod of affliction. The sacredness of her +feelings was too well appreciated by her parents to admit of +any offer of counsel, where deep-seated affection, the work of +mysterious instinct, stood in solemn derision of the vulgar +ideas of this world's expediency. The struggle in her mind +arose from the strength of her love, and the power of her +filial devotion. No part of the attendant circumstances or +probable consequences of her decision escaped her mind. She +knew that she never could be happy as the wife of any +other individual, even of suitable age, than Lewis Campbell. +But this concerned only herself; and she knew, and trembled +as she thought, that the result of her decision might be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +the destitution, the want, perhaps the death of her parents; +their all depended on the breath of the man whom she, by +the sign of her finger, might change from a friend to a foe; +and she might thereby become the destroyer of those who +gave her being.</p> + +<p>The morning came, but brought neither sleep nor relief to +the unhappy maiden. Her parents seemed inclined not to +advert to the subject that day, but to let her struggle on +with her own thoughts. The hour of the Laird's visit approached, +and he was already on the road for the home of +his beloved, whom his ardent fancy pictured standing smiling +at the door, ready as usual to receive him and lead him +into the house. Donald—who knew a reverie in his master +bettor than he did himself, and did not fail to take advantage +of it—ambled on with diminished speed. The Laird +approached the cottage. No Effie was there. His bright +visions took flight, and were succeeded by a cold shiver, the +precursor of a gloomy train of ideas, which pictured a refusal +and all its attendant horrors. He drew up the head of +Donald, and even invited him to partake of the long grass +which grew by the way-side. He counted the moments as +Donald devoured the food; and, from time to time, lifted +his eyes to see if Effie was yet at the cottage door. She was +not, to be seen—and she had not been absent before for +many months. His mind was unprepared for a refusal; +the ground-swell of his previous excited fancy distracted him +amidst the dead stillness of despair. He looked again, +and for the last time that day. Effie was not yet there. +He turned the head of the delighted, and no doubt astonished +Donald, and quietly sought again the house of Burnbank.</p> + +<p>The same procedure was gone through on the succeeding +day. Laird Cherrytrees again proceeded to the cottage of +David Mearns; and, as he sauntered along, he thought it +impossible that Effie should again be absent from her post.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +He was too good a man, and too conceited a lover, as all +old lovers are, to allow his mind to dwell on the probable +operation of necessity and the fear of injuring her father's +patron, on the mind of the daughter; and yet a lurking, +rebellious idea suggested that he would rather see Effie at +the door, impelled by that cause, than absent altogether. +His hopes again beat high, and Donald was pricked on to +the goal of his wishes with an asperity he did not relish so +well as a reverie. The spot was attained. Effie was still +absent. Donald was again remitted to the long grass, and +all the resources of a lover's mind were called up, to enable +him to face the evil that awaited him. But all was in vain—he +found it impossible to proceed.</p> + +<p>"I am rejected," he muttered to himself, with a sigh; "a +cottager's dochter has refused the Laird o' Burnbank; but +her cauldness an' cruelty mak me like her the mair. Effie +Mearns, Effie Mearns! hoo little do ye ken what commotion +ye hae produced in this puir, burstin heart! But, +though ye winna hae me, I winna desert yer faither. Hame, +Donald, to Burnbank." And, as he pulled up the bridle +with his left hand, he wiped away the tears that had collected +in his eyes, and, casting many a look back to the cottage, +cantered slowly home.</p> + +<p>These proceedings of the Laird had been noticed by Betty +Mearns from the window of the cottage, and she and +David were at no loss to guess the cause of them. They +knew his timid, sensitive disposition, and truly attributed +his return to his not seeing Effie at the door waiting for him +as usual. Apprehensions now seized the good mother, that +the Laird might withdraw his attentions and assistance +from the family, the result of which would be nothing but +misery and ruin; as David's fractured limbs were yet far +from being healed, and a long period must yet pass before +he could earn a penny to keep in their lives. These fears +were increased by a third and a fourth day having passed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +without a visit from the Laird, who had, notwithstanding, +been seen reconnoitering as usual at a distance from the +cottage. Effie herself saw how matters stood, and learned, +from the looks of her father and mother, sentiments they +seemed unwilling to declare. She was still much convulsed +with the struggle of the antagonist duties, wishes, emotions, +and fears, that rose in her mind; and the apprehensions +of her parents, which she considered well-founded, +added to her sorrow an additional source of anguish.</p> + +<p>"This house," said David, at last overcome by his feelings, +"has become mair like an hospital that has lost its +mortification than an honest man's cottage. Effie sits greetin +an' sabbin the hail day, an' you, Betty, look forward to starvation, +wi' the gruesome face o' despair. I am unhappy +mysel, besides being an invalid. What is this to end in? +What are we to do? How are we to live withoot meat, now +that Burnbank, guid man, has deserted us?"</p> + +<p>"There has come naething frae Burnbank for five days," +replied Betty; "an' the siller I got frae the guid auld man, +the last time he was here, I payed awa i' the village for +necessaries I had taen on afore we got that help. Our girnel +winna haud oot lang against three mous; an' if Laird +Cherrytrees bides awa muckle langer, I see naething for it +but to beg."</p> + +<p>The tear started to the eye of David. He looked at +Effie. She wept and sobbed, and covered her face with her +hands.</p> + +<p>"Effie, woman," said David, "a' this micht hae been +averted if ye had just gane to the door, an' welcomed the +auld Laird, as ye were wont. He's a blate man, though a +guid carl; an' he has, nae doot, thocht he was unwelcome +when yer auld practice o' waitin for him was gien +up."</p> + +<p>"I tauld her that, David," said Betty, "an' pressed her to +gang to the door, though it was only to gie the blate Laird<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +a glimpse o' her, whilk was a' he wanted to bring him in; +but she only sabbed the mair. Unhappy hour she first saw +that callant, wha may now be dead or married for ought +she kens!—an yet for his sake maun a hail family dree +the dule o' this day's misery. Effie, woman, can ye no +forget are wha hasna thocht ye worth the trouble o +tellin ye, by ae scrape o' his pen, whether he be i' the +land o' the livin!"</p> + +<p>A sob was the only reply Effie could make to this +appeal.</p> + +<p>"I hae tauld Effie," said David, "what wad save us frae +the ruin an' starvation that stare us i' the face; but my +mind's made up to suffer to the end, though I should lie +here wi' my broken banes, and dree the pains o' hunger, +rather than force my dochter to marry a man against her +ain choice. But, O Effie, woman, wad ye see yer puir +faither, broken as he is baith in mind and body, lie starvin +here in his bed, wi' nae mair pooer to earn a bite o' bread +than the unspeaned bairn, and no mak a sacrifice to save +him?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, faither," replied Effie, "I wad dee to save ye."</p> + +<p>"But deein winna save either him or me," said Betty. +"Naething will hae that effect but yer agreein to be the +leddy o' the braw hoose an' braid acres o' Burnbank. Wae's +me! what a difference between that condition, wi' servants +at yer nod, an' a' the comforts an' luxuries o' life at yer +command, an', abune a', the pooer o' makin happy yer +auld faither and mother, an' this awfu prospect o' dreein the +very warst an' last o' a' the evils o' life—want an' auld +age—ill-matched pair! Effie, woman, my bonny bairn, hae +ye nae love in yer heart, but for Lewie Campbell? Wad +ye, for his sake, see a' this misfortune fa' on the heads o' +yer parents, whom, by the laws o' God an' man, ye are bound +to honour, serve, and obey?"</p> + +<p>It was easier for Effie to say she would die to save<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +her parents, than that she would comply with the wish +of her mother; but the feeling appeal of her parent increased +her agony, which induced another paroxysm of +hysterical sobs—the only answer she could yet make to her +mother.</p> + +<p>"Effie doesna care for either you or me, Betty," said +David, "or she wad hae little hesitation aboot marryin a +guid, fresh, clean, rich, auld man, to save her faither and +mother frae poverty and starvation. I see nae great sacrifice +i' the matter. Her young heart mayna rejoice i' the +pleasures o' a daft love, but her guid sense will be gratified +by a feelin o' duty far aboon the vain, frawart freaks o' a +silly, giddy, youthfu passion. Let her refuse Laird Cherrytrees, +an' when Lewie Campbell comes hame, the owrecome +bread o' the funeral o' her faither may grace a waddin +bought wi' the price o' his life."</p> + +<p>"Dinna speak that way, faither," cried Effie, lifting up her +hands; "I canna stand that. You said ye wadna force me, +an' ye <i>are</i> forcin me. Oh, my puir heart, wha or what will +support ye when grief for my parents turns me against ye? +Faither, faither, when I am dead, Laird Cherrytrees will +be again yer friend. A little time will do't: will ye no +wait?"</p> + +<p>"Hunger waits only eight days, as the sayin is," replied +he, "an ye'll live mair than that time, I hope an' trow. I +will be dead afore ye, Effie, an' ye'll hae the consolation, as +ye maybe drap a tear on the mossy grey stane that covers +the Mearnses i' the kirkyard o' our parish, to think, if ye +shouldna like to say, in case ye micht be heard—though +thinkin an' speakin's a' ane to God—that 'that stane was +lifted ten years suner than it micht hae been, because +I liked Lewie Campbell better than auld Laird Cherrytrees.'"</p> + +<p>"An' it's no likely," said the mother, "that I wad be +there to hear Effie mak sae waefu a speech. If I binna<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +lyin wi' the Mearns, I'll be wi' the Cherrytrees o' Mossnook—nae +relations o' the Burnbanks, though maybe as guid a +family. But, afore I'm mixed wi' the dust o' that auld hoose, +Effie—an' it mayna be lang—ye may join the twa Cherrytrees, +an' let the gravestanes o' the Mearns, as weel as the +Mossnooks, lie yet a score years langer withoot bein moved. +It's a pity to disturb the lang grass. Its sough i' the nichtwind +keeps the bats frae pickin the auld banes, an' maybe +it may save yer mother's, if ye send her there afore her time."</p> + +<p>Effie's feelings could no longer withstand these appeals. +Her sobbing ceased suddenly; and, starting up from her +seat, she looked to the old clock that stood against the wall +of the cottage. She noticed that it was upon the hour of +the Laird's usual visit.</p> + +<p>"It is twelve o'clock, faither," she said, firmly—"this +hoor decides the fate o' Effie Mearns."</p> + +<p>Walking to the door, she placed herself in the position +she used to occupy when she intended to welcome her +father's friend. Now she was to welcome a husband. Laird +Cherrytrees was, as might have been expected, allowing +Donald to take his liberty of the road-side, grazing while he +was busy reconnoitering the cottage. The moment he saw +the form of Effie standing where he had for several long +days wished to see her, he pulled up Donald's bridle with +the alacrity of youth, and, striking his sides with his unarmed +heels, made all the speed of a bridegroom to get to +his bride. The sight of the object he had gazed upon so +unceasingly for so long a time, and whom he had strained +his eyes in vain to see during these eventful days, operated +like a charm on the old lover. He discovered at first sight +the red, swollen eyes of Effie; but he was too happy in +thinking he had been successful, as he had no doubt he had, +to meditate on the struggle which produced his bliss. Having +taken a long draught of the fountain of his hopes and +happiness, and feasted his eyes on the face of the maiden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +who attempted to smile through her tears, which he did +sitting on his horse, and, without speaking a word—for, +loquacious in politics or rural economy, he was mute in love—he +dismounted, while Effie, as usual, held the reins. He +lost no time in getting into his chair, falling back into it +like a breathless traveller who has at last attained the end +of his journey. David and Betty, who construed Effie's +conduct into a consent, took an early opportunity, while she +was still at the door, of letting the happy Laird know that +their daughter, as they conceived, was inclined to the match. +The Laird received the intelligence as if it had been too +much for mortal to bear. He was at first beyond the +vulgar habit of speech. He sighed, turned his eyes in their +sockets, groaned, and wrung his hands. On recovering +himself, he exclaimed——</p> + +<p>"Whar is she, Betty? Let me see the dear creature. +David, ye'll hae Ravelrigg; it's the best o' them a'. Whan +is't to be, Betty? Ye maun fix the day; an' ye maun +brak the thing to Lucy, and to Jenny Mucklewham; for I +hae nae pooer. Let me see her—let me see the sweet +creature this instant."</p> + +<p>Effie, at the request of her mother, came in and resumed +her seat on the three-footed stool. Her eyes were still +swollen, and she looked sorrowfully at her father. The +Laird fixed his eyes on her; but his loquacity was gone. +He had not a word to say; but his "glowrin" was in some +degree changed, being accompanied by a soft smile of self-complacency +and contentment, and freed from the nervous +irritability with which he used to solicit with his eyes a +look from the object of his affections. His visit this day +was shorter than it used to be. Next day, Betty was to +visit Burnbank, to arrange for the marriage.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the unfortunate girl resigned herself as a +self-sacrifice into the hands of her mother. Bound with +the silken bands of filial affection, she renounced all desire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +of exercising her own free-will, or indulging in those feelings +of the female heart which are deemed so strong as to demand +the sacrifice often of all other earthly considerations. +The fate of Iphiginia has occupied the pens and tongues of +pitying mortals for thousands of years. A lovely woman +sacrificed for a fair wind, doomed to have the blood that +mantled in the blushing cheeks of beauty sprinkled on the +altar of a false religion, is a spectacle which the imagination +cannot contemplate without a participation of the strongest +sympathies of the heart; yet there are, in the common +every-day world we now live in, many a scene in the act of +being performed, where, though there is no bloodshed and +no smoking altar exhibited, the sacrifice is not less than +that of the Grecian victim. Our blessed, holy altar of +matrimony is often, by the wayward feelings of man—for +we here say nothing of vice or corrupt conduct—made more +cruel than those of Moloch and Chiun. There is many a +bloodless Iphiginia in those days, whose sufferings are unknown +and unsung, because confined to the heart that +broke over them and concealed them in death. The young, +tender, and devoted female, who, for the love she bears to +her parents, consents to intermarry with rich age, to embrace +dry bones, to extend her sympathies to churlishness, +caprice, and ill-nature, or, what is worse, to the asthmatic +giggle of a superannuated love, while all the while her +heart, cheated of its tribute and swelling with indignation, +requires to be watched by her with vigilance and firmness, +the cruelty of which she herself feels—presents a form of self-sacrifice +possessing claims on the pity of mankind beyond +those of the boasted self-immolation of ancient devotees.</p> + +<p>The silence and dejection of our bride were construed, by +her parents, into that seemly and becoming sedateness +which sensible young women think it proper to assume on +the eve of so important a change in their condition as +marriage; while the happy bridegroom had come to that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +time of life when he is pleased with submission, though it +be expressed through tears. No chemical menstruum has +so much power in the dissolution of the hardest metals as +the self-complacency of an old lover has in construing, according +to his wishes, the actions, words, or looks of the +young woman who is destined to be his bride. Silence and +tears are expressive of happiness as well as of grief; and, so +long as the desire of the ancient philosopher is uncomplied +with by the gods, and there is no window to the heart, that +organ in the young victim may break while the sexagenarian +bridegroom is enjoying the imputed silent, restrained happiness +of the object of his ill-timed affection.</p> + +<p>The sadness and melancholy of the apparently-resigned +Effie Mearns had no effect on the noise and show of the +preparations for her marriage with her old lover. The +marriages of old men are well known to be celebrated +with higher bugle notes from the trumpet of fame than any +others. A sumptuous dinner was to be given to the neighbouring +lairds, and the cotters were to be fed and regaled +on the green opposite to the mansion. Dancing and music +were to add their charms to the gay scene; and it was +even alleged that the light of a bonfire would lend its +peculiar aid, in raising the joy of the guests, predisposed to +hilarity by plenteous potations, to the proper height suited +to the conquest of the old bridegroom over, at once, a young +woman and old Time.</p> + +<p>For days previous to the eventful one, Effie Mearns was +not heard to open her lips. She looked on all the gay preparations +for her marriage as if they had been the mournful +acts of the undertaker employed in laying the silver trimming +on the coffin lid of a lover. The bedside of her sick +parent, who was still unable to rise, was the place where she +sat "shrouded in silence." She heard the conversations of +her father and mother about the progress of the preparations, +without exhibiting so much interest as to show that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +understood them. Misgivings crossed the minds of the old +couple, and brought tears to their eyes, as they contemplated +the animated corpse that sat there, waiting the nod +of the master of ceremonies, and ready to perform the part +assigned to it in the forthcoming orgies of mournful joy; +but they had gone too far to recede, and it was even a subject +of satisfaction to them that the period of the celebration +was so near, for otherwise they might have had reason to +fear that their daughter would not have survived the intermediate +time. When the bridegroom called, his ears were +alarmed by the voices of the parents, who saw the necessity +of endeavouring to hide the condition of their daughter; +and he was satisfied, if he got, free and unrestrained, "a +feast of the eyes." His love was still expressed by silent +gazing; for it was too deep in his old heart for either words +or tears; if, indeed, there was moisture enough in the seat +of his affection for the suppliance of the <i>softest</i> expression +of the soft passion.</p> + +<p>The eventful day arrived. The marriage was to take +place in the cottage, where David Mearns still lay confined +to bed. The sick man wore a marriage favour attached to +the breast of his shirt!—for Laird Cherrytrees would be contented +with no less a demonstration of his participation +in his unparalleled happiness. The still silent bride <i>submitted</i> +passively to all the acts of her nimble dressers, +whose laugh seemed to strike her ears like funeral bells; +yet she tried—poor victim! to smile, though the clouded +beam came through a tear which, by its steadfastness, +seemed to belong to the orb. The bridegroom came at the +very instant when he ought to have come—the hand of the +clock not having had time to leave the mark of notation. He +was dressed in the style of his earliest days, with cocked +hat, laced coat, and a sky-blue vest, embroidered in the +richest manner; while a new wig, ordered from the metropolis, +imparted to him the freshness of youth. His cheek<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +was flushed with the blood which joy had forced, for a moment, +from where it was more needed, at the drying fountain +of life; and his eye spoke a happiness which his parched +tongue could not have achieved, without causing shame even +to himself. Everything was new, spruce, perking, self-complacent. +The clergyman next came, and all was prepared.</p> + +<p>Throughout all this time and all these preparations, not +the slightest change had been observed on the bride. After +she was dressed, she took her seat again, silently by the side +of her father's sickbed, where she sat like a statue. The +ceremony was now to commence, and she stood up, when +required by the clergyman, as if she obeyed the command +of an executioner. It was noticed that she seemed to incline +to be as near as possible to her father's bed; and her unwillingness +or inability to come forward forced the clergyman +and the bridegroom some paces from the situation they +at first held. The ceremony proceeded till it came to the +part where the consent of the parties is asked. The happy +bridegroom pronounced his response, quick, sharp, and with +an air of conceit, which brought a smile to the faces of the +parties present. There was now a pause for the consent of +the bride. All eyes were fixed on her death-like face. A +severe struggle was going on in her bosom; yet her countenance +was unmoved, and no one conjectured that she +suffered more than sensitive females often do in her situation. +The clergyman repeated his question. There was +still a pause—the eyes of all were riveted on her. "I <i>canna</i>, +I <i>canna</i>!" at last she exclaimed, in a voice of agony, and fell +back on the bed—a corpse!</p> + +<p>Six months after the death of Effie Mearns, Lucy Cherrytrees +was married, without faint or swoon, to Lewis Campbell, +who returned home, in spite of his reported death. The +union was against the consent of the Laird, who soon died +of either a broken heart or old age—no doctor could have +told which.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> +<h2>GLEANINGS OF THE COVENANT.</h2> + +<h3>XIV. —JAMES RENWICK.</h3> + + +<p>In the times in which we live, party spirit is carried very +far. Many honest tradesmen, merchants, and shopkeepers, +are ruined by their votes at elections. The ordinary intercourse +of social life is obstructed and deranged. Friends go +up to the polling station with friends, but separate there, +and become, it may be, the most inveterate enemies. This, +our later reformation of 1832, has cost us much; but our +sufferings are nothing to those which marked the two previous +reformations from Popery and Prelacy. In the one +instance, fire and faggot were the ordinary means adopted +for defending political arrangements; in the other, the gallows +and the maiden did the same work, and the boots and +the thumbikins acted as ministering engines of torture. The +whole of society was convulsed; men's blood boiled in their +veins at the revolting sights which were almost daily obtruding +upon their attention; and their judgments being +greatly influenced by their feelings, it is not to be wondered +at that they should, in a few instances, have overshot, as it +were, the mark—have sacrificed their lives to the support of +opinions which appear now not materially different from +those which their enemies pressed upon their acceptance. +It is a sad mistake to suppose that the friends of Presbytery, +during the fearful twenty-eight years' persecution of Charles +and James, died in the support of certain doctrines and +forms of church government merely. With these were, +unhappily, or rather, as things have turned out, fortunately, +combined, political or civil liberty, the establishment and +support of a supreme power, vested in King, Lords, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +Commons—instead of being vested, by usurpation, merely +in the King alone. By avoiding to call Parliaments, and by +obtaining supplies of money from France and otherwise, the +two last of the Stuart Despots had, in fact, broken the compact +of Government, and had exposed themselves all along, +through the twenty-eight years of persecution, to dethronement +for high treason. This was the strong view taken by +those who fought and who fell at Bothwell Bridge, and this +was the view taken by nine-tenths of the inhabitants of +Scotland—of the descendants and admirers of Bruce and +Wallace—of Knox and Carstairs. James Renwick, the +last of the martyrs in the cause of religion and liberty, was +executed in Edinburgh in his twenty-sixth year. He was a +young man of liberal education, conducted both at the college +of Edinburgh, and Groningen, abroad—of the most amiable +disposition, and the most unblemished moral character—yet, +simply because he avowed, and supported, and publicly +preached doctrines on which, in twelve months after his +execution, the British Government was based, he was adjudged +to the death, and ignominiously executed in the presence +of his poor mother and other relatives, as well as of +the Edinburgh public. Mr Woodrow, in his history of this +man's life, alludes to some papers which he had seen, containing +notices of Mr Renwick's trials and hair-breadth escapes; +prior to his capture and execution—which, however, he refrains +from giving to the public. It so happens that, from +my acquaintance with a lineal descendent of the last of the +Martyrs, I have it in my power, in some measure, to supply +the deficiency; his own note, or memorandum-book, being +still in existence, though it never has been, nor ever will, +probably, be published.</p> + +<p>It was in the month of January 1688, that Mr Renwick +was preaching, after nightfall, to a few followers, at Braid +Craigs, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh. The night was +stormy—a cold east wind, with occasional blasts of snow—whilst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +the moon, in her second quarter, looked out, at intervals, +on plaids and bonnets nestled to the leeward of +rocks and furze. It was a piteous sight to view rational and +immortal creatures reduced to a state upon the level with the +hares and the foxes. Renwick discoursed to them from the +point of a rock which protruded over the lee side of the +Craigieknowe. His manner was solemn and impressive. He +was a young man of about twenty-five years of age; and his +mother, Elspeth Carson, sat immediately before him—an +old woman of threescore and upwards—in her tartan plaid +and velvet hood. Her son had been born to a larger promise, +and had enjoyed an excellent academic education; +and much it had originally grieved the old woman's heart +to find all her hopes of seeing him minister of her native +parish of Glencairn, blasted; but his conscience would not +allow him to conform; and she had followed him in his wanderings +and field-preachings, through Ayrshire, Renfrewshire, +and all along by the Pentland Hills, to Edinburgh, +where a sister of hers was married, and lived in a respectable +way on the Castle Hill. This evening, after psalm-singing +and prayer, Mr. Renwick had chosen for his text +these words, in the fourth verse of the eighteenth chapter of +the book of Revelation—"Come out of her, my people." +The kindly phrase, "my people," was beautifully insisted +upon.</p> + +<p>"There ye are," said Renwick, stretching out his hand to +the darkening sleet; "there ye are, a poor, shivering, fainting, +despised, persecuted remnant, whom the great ones despise, +and the men of might, and of war, and of blood, cut +down with their swords, and rack with their tortures. Ye +are, like ye'r great Master, despised and rejected of men; but +the Master whom ye serve, and whom angels serve with +veiled faces, and even He who created and supports the +sun, the moon, and the stars, He—blessed be His name!—is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +not ashamed to acknowledge ye, under all your humiliation, +as <i>His</i> people. 'Come out of her,' says He, '<i>my people</i>.' O, +sirs, this is a sweet and a loving invitation. Ye are '<i>His +people</i>,' the sheep of His pasture, after all; and who would +have thought it, that heard ye, but yesterday, denounced at +the cross of Edinburgh as traitors, and rebels, and non-conformists, +as the offscourings of the earth, the filth and the +abomination in the eyes and in the nostrils of the great and +the mighty? 'Come out!' says the text, and out ye have +come—'done ere ye bade, guid Lord!' Ye may truly and +reverentially say—Here we are, guid Lord; we have come +out from the West Port, and from the Grassmarket, and +from the Nether Bow, and from the Canongate—out we +have come, because we are thy people. We know thy voice, +and thy servants' voice, and a stranger and a hireling, with +his stipend and his worldly rewards, will we not follow; but +we will listen to him whose reward is with him; whose stipend +is Thy divine approbation; whose manse is the wilderness; +and whose glebe land is the barren rock and the +shelterless knowe. Come out of <i>her</i>. There <i>she</i> sits," (pointing +towards Edinburgh, now visible in the scattered rays of the +moon,) "there she sits, like a lady, in her delicacies, and her +drawing-rooms, and her ball-rooms, and her closetings, and +her abominations. Ye can almost hear the hum of her many +voices on the wings of the tempest. There she sits in her +easy chair, stretching her feet downwards, from west to +east, from castle to palace! But she has lost her first love, +and has deserted her covenanted husband. She hath gone +astray—she hath gone astray!—and He who made her hath +denounced her—He whose she was in the day of her betrothment, +hath said—She is no longer mine; 'come out of +her, my people'—be not misled by her witcheries, and her +dalliance, and her smiles—be not terrified by her threats, +and cruelties, and her murderings—she is drunk, she is +drunk—and with the most dangerous and intoxicating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +beverage, too—she is drunk with the blood of the saints. +When shipwrecked and famishing sailors kill each other, +and drink the blood, it is written that they immediately +become mad, and, uttering all manner of blasphemies, expire! +Thus it is with the 'Lady of the rock'—she is now +in her terrible blasphemies, and will, by and by, expire in +her frenzy. And who sits upon her throne?—even the +bloody Papist, who misrules these unhappy lands—he, the +usurper of a throne from which by law he is debarred—even +the cruel and Papistical <i>Duke</i>, whom men, in their folly or +in their fears, denominate '<span class="smcap">King</span>'—he, too, is doomed—the +decree hath gone forth, and he will perish with her, because +he would not <i>come out</i>."</p> + +<p>"Will he, indeed, Mr Bletherwell? But there are some +here who must perish first." So said the wily and infuriated +Claverhouse, as he poured in his men by a signal from +the adjoining glen, (where the lonely hermitage now stands +in its silent beauty,) and in an instant had made Renwick, +and about ten of his followers—the old woman, his mother, +included—prisoners. This was done in an instant, for the +arrangements had been made prior to the hour of meeting, +and Claverhouse, attired in plaid and bonnet, had actually +sat during the whole discourse, listening to the speaker till +once he should utter something treasonable, when, by rising +on a rock, and shaking the corners of his plaid, he brought +the troop up from their hiding-places, amidst the whins and +the broom by which the glen was at that time covered. +Renwick, seeing all resistance useless, and indeed forbidding +his followers, who were not unprovided for the occasion, to +fire upon the military, marched onwards, in silence, towards +Edinburgh. As they passed along by the land now denominated +"Canaan," they halted at a small public-house kept +by a woman well known at the time by the nickname of +"Red-herrings," on account of her making frequent use of +these viands to stimulate a desire for her strong drink.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +Over her door-way, indeed, a red-herring and a foaming +tankard were rudely sketched on a sign-board, (like cause +and effect, or mere sequence!) in loving unity. The prisoners +were accommodated with standing-room in Tibby's +kitchen; while the soldiers, with their leader, occupied the +ben-room and the only doorway—thus securing their prisoners +from all possibility of escape. Refreshments, such as +Tibby could muster, consisting principally of brandy and +ale, mixed up in about equal proportions of each, were distributed +amongst the soldiers—who were, in fact, from their +long exposure in the open air, in need of some such stimulants; +whilst the poor prisoners were only watched, and +made a subject of great merriment by the soldiers. The +halt, however, was very temporary; but, temporary as it +was, it enabled several of the members of the field-meeting +to reach Edinburgh, and to apprise their friends, and +what is termed the mob of the streets, of the doings at +"Braid Craigs." Onwards advanced the party—soldiers +before and behind, and their captives in the middle—till +they reached the West Port, at the foot of the Grassmarket. +It was near about ten o'clock, and the streets were in a buz +with idle 'prentices, bakers' boys, shoemakers' lads, &c. +The march along the Grassmarket seemed to alarm Clavers, +for he halted his men, made them examine their firelocks, +spread themselves all around the prisoners, and, advancing +himself in front, and on his famous black horse, with drawn +sword and holster pistols, seemed to set all opposition +at defiance. The party had already gained the middle of +that narrow and winding pass, the West Bow, when a waggon, +heavily loaded with stones, was hurled downwards upon +the party, with irresistible force and rapidity—Clavers's +horse shied, and escaped the moving destruction; but it +came full force into the very midst of the soldiers, who, +from a natural instinct, turned off into open doors and side +closes; in this they were imitated by the poor prisoners,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +who were better acquainted with the localities of the West +Bow than the soldiery. In an instant afterwards, a dense +and armed mob rushed headlong down the street, carrying +all before them, and shouting aloud, "Renwick for ever! +Renwick for ever!" This was taken as a hint by the prisoners, +who, in an instant, had mixed with the mob; or +sunk, as it were, through the earth, into dark passages and +cellars. "Fire!" was Claverhouse's immediate order, so +soon as the human torrent had reached him; and <i>fire</i> some +of the soldiers did, but not to the injury of any of the prisoners, +but to that of a person—a bride, as it turned out—who, +in her curiosity or fear, had looked from a window +above; she was shot through the head, and died instantly. +But, in the meantime, the rescue was complete—Claverhouse, +afraid manifestly of being shot from a window, galloped +up the brae, and made the best of his way to the +Castle, there to demand fresh troops to quell what he called +an insurrection: whilst, in the meantime, the men, after a +very temporary search or pursuit, marched onwards, with +their muskets presented to the open windows, in case any +head should protrude. But no heads were to be seen; and +the soldiers escaped to the guard-house (to the Heart of +Midlothian) in safety. Here, however, a scene ensued of a +most heart-rending nature. Scarcely had the men grounded +their muskets in the guard-house, when a seeming maniac +rushed upon them with an open knife, and cut right and +left like a fury. He was immediately secured, but not till +after many of the soldiers were bleeding profusely. They +thrust him immediately, bound hand and foot, into the +black-hole, to await the decision of next morning; but next +morning death had decided his fate—he had manifestly died +of apoplexy, brought on by extreme excitement. His +mother, who had followed her son when he issued forth deprived +seemingly of reason, having lost sight of him in the +darkness, had learned next morning of his fate and situation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +She came, therefore, with the return of light, to +the prison door, and had been waiting hours before it was +opened. At last Clavers arrived, and ordered the maniac +to be brought into his presence, and that of the Court, for +examination. But it was all over; and the distorted limbs +and features of a young and handsome man were all the +mark by which a fond mother could certify the identity of +an only son. From this poor woman's examination, it +turned out that her son was to have been married on that +very day to a young woman whom he had long loved; but +that he had been called to see her corpse, after she was shot +by the soldiery, and had rushed out in the frantic and armed +manner already described. The poor woman, from that +hour, became melancholy; refused to take food; and, always +calling upon the names of her "bonny murdered bairns," +was found dead one morning in her bed.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, James Renwick had made the best of +his way down the Cowgate, and across, by a narrow wynd, +into the Canongate, where a friend of his kept a small public-house. +He had gone to bed; but his wife was still at the +bar, and two men sat drinking in a small side apartment. +He asked immediately for her husband, and was +recognised, but with a wink and a look which but too +plainly spoke her suspicion of the persons who were witnesses +of his entrance. Hereupon he called for some refreshment, +as if he had been a perfect stranger, and, +seating himself at a small table, began to read in a little +note-book which he took from his side pocket—"four, +five, six, seven—yes, seven," said he—"and it has cost +me seven pounds my journey to Edinburgh." This he said +so audibly as to be heard by the persons who were sitting +in the adjoining box, that they might regard him as a +stranger, and unconnected with Edinburgh. But, as he +afterwards expressed it, he deeply repented of the attempt +to mislead. The Lord, he said, had justly punished him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +for distrusting his power to extricate him, as he had already +done, from his troubles. The men, after one had accosted +him in a friendly tone about the weather, or some indifferent +subject, took their departure; and Mrs Chalmers +and he, now joined by the husband, enjoyed one hour's +canny crack ere bedtime, over some warm repast. The +whole truth was made known to them; but, though perfectly +trustworthy themselves, they expressed a doubt of +their customers, who were known to be little better than +hired informers, who went about to public-houses, at the +expense of the Government, listening and prying if they +could find any evidence against the poor Covenanters. +Next day, even before daylight, the house was surrounded +by armed men, and Renwick was demanded by name. +Mr Chalmers did not deny that he was in the house, but +said that he came to him as to a distant relation, and that +he was no way connected with his doctrines or opinions. +In the meantime, Renwick was aroused, and had resolved +to sell his life as dearly as possible. He was a young +and an active man, and trusted, as he owned with great +regret afterwards, to his strength and activity, rather than +to the mercy and the wisdom of his Maker. So, rushing +suddenly down stairs, and throwing himself, whilst discharging +a pistol, (which, however, did no harm), into the +street, he was out of sight in a twinkling; but, in passing +along, his hat fell off; and this circumstance drew the attention +and suspicion of every one whom he passed, to +his appearance. One foot, in particular, pressed hard upon +him from behind, and a voice kept constantly crying, +"Stop thief!—stop thief!" He ran down a blind alley, on +the other side of the Canongate, and was at last taken, +without resistance, by three men, one of whom—and it was +the one who had all along pursued him—was the person +who had accosted him last night in the public-house, respecting +the weather. He was immediately carried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +prison, where he remained—visited indeed by his mother—till +next assizes, when he was tried, condemned, and afterwards +executed—the Last of the Martyrs!</p> + +<p>The conversation which he had with his mother, his +public confessions of faith, and adherence to the covenanted +cause, as well as his last address, drowned at the +time in the sound of drums—all these are given at full +length in Woodrow, (the edition of Dr Burns of Paisley), +to which I must refer the reader who is curious upon such +subjects. In this valuable work will likewise be found the +inscription placed upon a very handsome cippus, or monument +of stone, erected to his memory. We give it to the +reader. There is another, if we mistake not, in the Greyfriars +of Edinburgh, somewhat in the same style. They +are both equally simple and touching.</p> + +<div class="center"> +In memory of the late<br /> +REVEREND JAMES RENWICK,<br /> +the last who suffered to the death for attachment to the<br /> +Covenanted Cause of Christ<br /> +in Scotland.<br /> +Born near this spot, 15th February, 1662,<br /> +and executed at the<br /> +Grassmarket, Edinburgh,<br /> +1688.<br /> +"The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance."<br /> +Ps. cxli. and 6.<br /> +Erected by subscription, 1828.<br /> +</div> + +<p>The late James Hastings, Esq. gave a donation of the +ground. The subscriptions, amounting to about £100, +were collected at large from Christians of all denominations; +and the gentleman who took the most active part in suggesting +and carrying through the undertaking, was the +Rev. Gavin Mowat, minister of the Reformed Presbyterian +Congregation at Whithorn, and formerly at Scar-brig, in +Penpont, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Dumfriesshire'">Dumfries-shire</ins>. The monument is placed upon +the farm of Knees, at no great distance from the farm-house +where the martyr was born. It stands upon an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +eminence, from which it may be seen at the distance of +several miles down the glen, in which the village of Monyaive +is situated. It was visited last summer by the author +of this narrative; when the resolution, which has now been +very imperfectly fulfilled, was taken.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<h3><a name="OLD_ISBEL_KIRK" id="OLD_ISBEL_KIRK"></a>XV. —OLD ISBEL KIRK.</h3> + +<p>Isbel Kirk lived in Pothouse, Closeburn, in that very +house where that distinguished scholar, the late Professor +Hunter of St Andrew's, was born. She had never been +married, and lived in a small lonely cottage, with no companions +but her cat and cricket, which chirped occasionally +from beneath the hudstone, against which her peat-fire was +built. There sat old, and now nearly blind, Isbel Kirk, +spinning or carding wool, crooning occasionally an old +Scotch song, or, it might be, one of David's psalms, and +enjoying at intervals her pipe, a visit from her next +neighbour, Nancy Nivison, or her champit-potatoes—a +luxury which the west country, and that alone, has hitherto +enjoyed. Two old Irish women had settled some time before +this on the skirts of the opposite brae, where they had +built a small turf cabin, and lived nobody could well tell +how. They were generally understood to make a kind of +precarious living, by going about the country periodically, +giving <i>pigs</i> or crockery-ware in exchange for wool. Isbel +Kirk was a most simple, honest creature, living on little, +but procuring that little by her industry in spinning sale +yarn, weaving garters, and using her needle occasionally, to +assist the guidwife of Gilchristland in shirt-making for a +large family. But the M'Dermots were the aversion of +everybody, and seldom visited even by the guidman of +Barmoor, on whose farm, or rather on the debatable skirts +of it, they had sat down, almost in spite of his teeth. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +was a humane man; and, though he loved not such visitors, +yet he tolerated the nuisance, as his wife reckoned them +skilled in curing children's diseases, and in spaeing the +young women's fortunes. John Watson pastured sheep, +where corn harvests now wave in abundance; and his +flocks spread about to the doors of the M'Dermots and +Isbel Kirk. These flocks gradually decreased, and much +suspicion was attached to his Irish and heathenish neighbours, +for they attended no place of worship, not even the +conformed Curate's; but there was no proof against them. +At last, a search was suddenly and secretly instituted +under the authority of the Laird of Closeburn; and, although +much wool was found, still there were no entire +fleeces, nor any means left of bringing it home to the +M'Dermots.</p> + +<p>"Na, na, guidman," said the elder of the two harridans. +"Na—ye needna stir aboot the kail-pot in that way—ye'll +find naething there but a fine bit o' the dead braxy I gat +frae the guidman o' Gilchristland, for helping the mistress +wi' her kirn, that wadna mak butter; but there are folks +that ye dinna suspect, and that are maybe no that far off +either, wha could very weel tell ye gin they liked whar yer +braw gimmer yows gang till."</p> + +<p>Being pushed to be more particular, they were seemingly +compelled at last to intimate that auld Isbel Kirk, +she and her friend, Nanny Nivison, could give an account +of the stolen sheep, if they liked. The guidman would not +credit such allegations; but the old women persisted in +their averment, and even offered to give the guidman of +Barmoor occular demonstration of the guilt of the twa +<i>saunts</i>, as they called them. A few days passed, and still a +lamb or an old sheep would disappear—they melted away +gradually, and the guidman began to think that his flocks +must be bewitched, and that the devil himself must keep a +kitchen somewhere about the Chaise Craig, over which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +Archy Tait had often seen the <i>old gentleman</i> driving six-in-hand +about twelve o'clock at night. Returning, therefore, +one morning to the M'Dermots, and renewing the conversation +respecting Isbel Kirk and Nanny Nivison, it was agreed +that one of the Irish sisterhood should walk over to Isbel's +with him next forenoon, and that she would give him evidence +of the fate of his flocks. Isbel was sitting before her +door, in the sunshine of a fine spring morning, when the +guidman and Esther M'Dermot arrived. She welcomed +them kindly into her small but clean and neat cottage; +and, with all the despatch which her blindness would permit +of, dusted for their use an old-fashioned chair, and a +round stool, which served the double purpose of stool and +table. The conversation went on as usual about the +weather, and the last sufferer in the cause of the Covenant, +when Esther M'Dermot went into a dark corner, and forthwith +drew out into the guidman's view, and to his infinite +astonishment, a sheep's head, which bore the well-known +mark of the farm on its ears.</p> + +<p>"Look there, guidman," said Esther, "isna that proof +positive of the way in which your braw hirsel is disposed +of? By Jasus and the holy St Patrick! and here is a foot +too, and twa horns!"</p> + +<p>Poor Isbel Kirk could scarcely be made to apprehend the +meaning of all this—indeed she could scarcely see the evidences +of her guilt—and assured the guidman, in the most +unequivocal manner imaginable, that she was innocent as +the child unborn; indeed, she said, what should she do with +dead sheep, or how should she get hold of them, seeing she +was old and blind, and had not enjoyed a bit of mutton, or +any other flesh, meat, since the new year?</p> + +<p>"Ay," responded old Esther; "but ye hae friends that can +help ye; dinna I whiles see, after dark, twa tall figures +stealing o'er your way frae the Whitside linn yonder! I'se +warrant they dinna live on deaf nits, after lying a' day in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +dark and damp cave." Isbel held up her hands in prayer, +entreating the Lord to be merciful to her and to his ain +inheritance, and to discomfit the plans of his and her enemies.</p> + +<p>"Ye may pray," said Elspat, "as ye like, but ye'll no +mak the guidman here distrust his ain een, wi' yer praying +and yer Whiggery." This last suggestion of the nightly +visitors staggered Mr Watson not a little; he well knew +how friendly old Isbel was to the poor Covenanters, and +brought himself to conclude, under the weighty and conclusive +evidence before him, that Isbel might have persuaded +herself that she was rendering God good service +by feeding his chosen people with the best of his flock. +Isbel could only protest her innocence and ignorance of the +way in which these evidences against her came there; +whilst the guidman and Esther took their leave—he threatening +that the matter should not rest where it was, and the +old Irish jade pretending to commiserate Isbel on the unfortunate +discovery.</p> + +<p>Next morning, the pothouse was surrounded, and carefully +searched by a detachment of Lag's men, to whom information +of Isbel's harbouring rebels had been (the reader +may guess how) communicated. Having been unsuccessful +in their search, they put the poor blind creature to the +torture, because she would not discover, or, perhaps, could +not reveal, the retreat of the persecuted people. A burning +match was put betwixt her fingers, and she was firmly +tied to a bedpost, whilst the fire was blown into a flame by +one of the soldiers. Not a feature in Isbel's countenance +changed; but her lips moved, and she was evidently deeply +absorbed in devotional exercise.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, old Bleary," said one, "out with it! or +we will roast you on the coals, like a red herring, for +Beelzebub's breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Ye can only do what ye're permitted to do," said the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +poor sufferer, now writhing with pain, and suffering all +the agonies of martyrdom. "Ye may burn this poor auld +body, and reduce it to its natural dust; but ye will never +hear my tongue betray any of the poor persecuted remnant."</p> + +<p>It is horrible to relate, but the fact cannot be disputed, +that these monsters stood by and blew the match till the +poor creature's fingers were actually burnt off—yet she +only once cried for mercy; but, when they mentioned the +conditions, she fainted; and thus nature relieved her from +her sufferings. When she came again to herself, she +found that they had killed the only living creature which +she could call companion, and actually hung the body of the +dead cat around her neck; but they were gone, and her hands +were untied.</p> + +<p>During the ensuing night a watch was set upon poor +Isbel's house, thinking, as the persecutors did, that they +would catch the nightly visitants, who were yet ignorant of +their friend's sufferings in their behalf. The men lay concealed +among brackens, on the bank opposite to the pothouse, +and near to Staffybiggin, the residence of the +M'Dermots. To their surprise, a figure, about twelve o'clock, +came warily and stealthily around a flock of sheep which +lay ruminating in the hollow. It was a female figure, +if not the devil in a female garb. They continued to keep +silent and lie still. At last they saw the whole flock +driven over and across a thick-set bush of fern. One of +the sheep immediately began to struggle; but it was manifestly +held by the foot—in a few instants, two figures were +seen dragging it into M'Dermot's door. This naturally +excited their surprise, and, rushing immediately into the +hut, they found the two old women in the act of preparing in +a pit—which, during the day time, was concealed—mutton +for their own use. The murder was now out. These +wretched women had been in the habit, for some years, of +supplying themselves from the Barmoor flocks; the one +lying flat down upon her back amongst the furze, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +other driving the sheep over her breast. Thus the sister +who caught, had an opportunity of selecting; and the best +of the wedders had thus from time to time disappeared.</p> + +<p>Poor Isbel Kirk!—her innocence was now fully established; +but it was too late. Her kind friend Nanny Nivison +attended her in her last illness, and the guidman of Barmoor +paid every humane attention. But the ruffians of a mistaken +and ill-advised government had deranged her nervous +system. Besides, the burn never properly healed; +it at last mortified, and she died almost insensible, either of +pain or presence. Her soul seemed to have left its frail tabernacle +ere life was extinct. The example we have here given +is taken from that humble source, which the historian leaves +open to the gleaner. Indeed, the histories of those times +give but a very imperfect idea of the atrocities of that remarkable +period. The cottage door must be opened to get at +the truth; but the stately political historian seldom enters.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_CURLERS" id="THE_CURLERS"></a>XVI. —THE CURLERS.</h3> + +<p>Winter 1684-5 was, like the last, cold, frosty, and +stormy. The ice was on lake and muir from new year's +day till the month of March. Curling was then, as it is +still, the great winter amusement in the south and west of +Scotland. The ploughman lad rose by two o'clock of a +frosty morning, had the day's fodder threshed for the +cattle, and was on the ice, besom in hand, by nine o'clock. +The farmer, after seeing things right in the stable and the +byre, was not long behind his servant. The minister left +his study and his M.S., his concordance, and his desk, for +the loch, and the rink, and the channel-stane. Even the +laird himself was not proof against the temptation, but +often preferred full twelve hours of rousing game on the +ice, to all the fascinations of the drawing or the billiard-room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +or the study. Even the schoolmaster was incapable +of resisting the tempting and animating sound; and, at +every peal of laughter which broke upon his own and his +pupils' ears, turned his eyes and his steps towards the +window which looked upon the adjoining loch; and, at +last, entirely overcome by the shout over a contested shot; +off he and his bevy swarmed, helter-skelter, across the +Carse Meadow, to the ice. From all accounts which I +have heard of it, this was a notable amongst many notable +days. The factor was never in such play; the master +greatly outdid himself; the laird played hind-hand in +beautiful style; and Sutor John came up the rink "like +Jehu in time o' need." Shots were laid just a yard, right +and left, before and behind the tee; shots were taken out, +and run off the ice with wonderful precision; guards, +that most ticklish of all plays, were rested just over the +hog-score, so as completely to cover the winner; inwicks +were taken to a hair, and the player's stone whirled in +most gracefully, (like a lady in a country dance), and +settled, three-deep-guarded, upon the top of the tee. +Chance had her triumphs as well as good play. A random +shot, driven with such fury that the stone rebounded and +split in two, deprived the opposite side of four shots, and +took the game. The sky was blue as indigo, and the sun +shot his beams over the Keir Hills in penetrating and invigorating +splendour. Old women frequented the loch +with baskets; boys and young lads skated gracefully +around; the whisky-bottle did its duty; and even the +herons at the spring-wells had their necks greatly elongated +by the roaring fun. It was a capital day's sport. +Little did this happy scene exhibit of the suffering and the +misery which was all this while perpetrated by the men of +violence. Clavers, the ever-infamous, was in Wigtonshire +with his Lambs; Grierson was lying in his den of Lag, +like a lion on the spring; Johnstone was on the Annan;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +and Winram on the Doon; whilst Douglas was here, and +there, and everywhere, flying, like a malevolent spirit, from +strath to strath, and from hill to dale. The snow lay, and +had long been lying, more than a foot deep, crisp and +white, over the bleak but beauteous wild; the sheep were +perishing for want of pasture; and many poor creatures +were in absolute want of the necessaries of life. (The +potato, that true friend of the people, had not yet made +its way to any extent into Scotland). Caves, dens, and outhouses +were crowded with the persecuted flock. The +ousted ministers were still lifting up their voice in the +wilderness, and the distant hum of psalmody was heard +afar amongst the hills, and by the side of the frozen stream +and the bare hawthorn. What a contrast did all this present +to the fun, frolic, and downright ecstacy of this day's +sport! But the night came, with its beef and its greens, +and its song, and its punch, and its anecdote, and its +thrice-played games, and its warm words, and its half-muttered +threats, and its dispersion about three in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Wha was yon stranger?" said John Harkness to Sandy +Gibson, as they met next day on the hill. "I didna like +the look o' him; an' yet he played his stane weel, an' took +a great lead in the conversation. I wish he mayna be a +spy, after a'; for I never heard o' ony Watsons in Ecclefechan, +till yon creature cast up."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," said lang Sandy, "I didna like the creature—it +got sae fou an' impudent, late at nicht; an' then that puir +haverel, Will Paterson, cam in, an' let oot that the cave +at Glencairn had been surprised, an' the auld minister +murdered. If it be na the case—as I believe it isna +hitherto—there was enough said last nicht to mak it necessary +to hae the puir, persecuted saint informed o' his +danger."</p> + +<p>"An' that's as true," responded John; "an' I think +you an' I canna do better than wear awa wast o'er whan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +the sun gaes down, an' let honest Mr Lawson ken that his +retreat is known. That Watson creature—didna ye tent?—went +aff, wi' the curate, a wee afore the lave; they were +heard busy talking together, in a low tone of voice, as they +went hame to the manse. I wonder what maks the laird—wha +is a perfect gentleman, an' a friend, too, o' the +Covenanted truth—keep company, on the ice, or off it, +wi' that rotten-hearted, roupit creature, the curate o' Closeburn?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed," replied the other, "he is sae clean daft aboot +playing at channel-stane, that, I believe, baith him, an' +the dominie, an' the factor—forby Souter Ferguson—would +play wi' auld Symnie himself, provided he was a +keen and a guid shot! But it will be mirk dark—an' +there's nae moon—ere we mak Glencairn cave o't."</p> + +<p>John Harkness and Sandy Gibson arrived at Monyaive, +in Glencairn, a little after dark. The cave was about a +mile distant from the town; and, with the view of refreshment, +as well as of concerting the best way of avoiding +suspicion, they entered a small ale-house kept by an old +woman at the farther end of the bridge. They were +shewn into a narrow and meanly-furnished apartment, and +called for a bottle of the best beer, with a suitable accompaniment +of bread and cheese. The landlady, by-and-by, +was sent for, and was asked to partake of her own beverage, +and questioned, in a careless and incidental manner, respecting +the news. She looked somewhat embarrassed; +and, fixing her eyes upon a keyhole, in a door which +conducted to an adjoining apartment, she said, in a whisper—</p> + +<p>"I ken brawly wha ye are, an maybe, too, what ye're +after; but ye hae need to be active, lads; for there are those +in that ither room that wadna care though a yer heads, as +well as those o' some ither folks that shall be nameless +were stuck on the West Port o' Edinbro."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>In an instant, the two young farmers were <i>butt</i> the house, +and beside Tibby Haddow's peat fire. In the course of a +short, and, to all but themselves, an inaudible conversation, +they learned that Lag himself, disguised as a common +soldier, was in the next room, in close colloquy with +a person clothed in grey duffle, with a broad bonnet on his +head. From the description of the person, the two Closeburnians +had no manner of doubt that the information +obtained last night, in regard to the existence of a place of +refuge in Glencairn, was now in the act of being communicated.</p> + +<p>"At one o'clock!" said a well-known voice—it was that +of Lag, to a certainty.</p> + +<p>"Yes, at one," responded the stranger, Watson—whose +voice was equally well-known to the farmers—"at one!" +And they parted—the one going east, and the other west—and +were lost in the darkness of night.</p> + +<p>It was now past seven, with a clear, frosty night. What +was to be done? It was manifest that the cave was betrayed—at +least, that the <i>whereabouts</i> was known—and it +was likewise necessary that this information should be +conveyed to the poor inmate. But where was he to find a +refuge, after the cave had been vacated? It struck them, in +consulting, that if they could get the old woman to be +friendly and assisting, the escape might be effected before +the time evidently fixed upon for taking the cave by surprise. +This was, however, a somewhat dangerous experiment; for, +although Tibby M'Murdo was known to be favourable—as +who amongst the lower classes was not?—to the non-conformists, +yet she might not choose to run the immense risk of +ruin and even death, which might result from her knowingly +giving harbour to a rebel. So, by way of sounding the old +woman—who lived in the house by herself, her granddaughter, +who was at service in the town, only visiting her +occasionally—they proposed to stay all night in the house,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +as they were in hourly expectation of a wool-dealer who +had made an appointment to meet them here, but who, +owing to the heavy roads, had manifestly been detained beyond +the appointed time. The old woman had various objections +to this arrangement; but was at last persuaded to +make an addition to her fire, to put half-a-dozen bottles of her +best ale on the table, with a tappit hen, and what she termed +"a wee drap o' the creature," and to retire to rest about +eight o'clock, her usual hour, they having already paid for +all, and promised not to leave the house till she rose in the +morning. At this time, about eight o'clock, the night had +suddenly became dark and cloudy, and there was a strange +noise up amongst the rocks overhead. It was manifest +that there was a change of weather fast approaching. At +last the snow descended, the wind arose, and it became a +perfect tempest. Next morning, there were three human +beings in Tibby's small <i>ben</i>, busily employed in discussing +the good things already purchased, as well as in higgling +and bothering about the price of wool. The weather, +which had been exceedingly boisterous all night, had again +cleared up into frost, and the inhabitants of Monyaive +were busied in cutting away the accumulated snow from +their doors, when in burst old Tibby's granddaughter, and, +all at once, with exceeding animation, made the following +communication:—</p> + +<p>"Ay, granny, ye never heard what has taen place this +last nicht. I had it a' frae Jock Johnston. Ye ken Jock—he's +oor maister's foreman, an' unco weel acquent wi' the +dragoons that lodge in the Spread Eagle. Weel, Jock tells +me that Lag was here last nicht, in disguise like, an' that +they had gotten information, frae ane o' their spies like, +aboot a cave up by yonder where some o' the puir persecuted +folks is concealed; an' that, aboot ane o'clock o' this morning—an' +an awsome morning it was—they had marched on, +three abreast, through the drift, carrying strae alang wi'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +them an lighted matches; an' that they gaed straight to the +cave, an' immediately summoned the puir folks to come out +and be shot; and that they only answered by a groan, +which tellt them as plainly as could be, that the puir creatures +were there; and that they immediately set fire to the +straes at the mooth o' the cave, and fairly smoked them +(Jock tells me) to death. Did ye ever hear the like +o't?"</p> + +<p>"O woman!" responded the grandmother, "but that is +fearfu'!—these are indeed fearfu' times; there is naebody +sure o' their lives for half-an-hour thegither, wha doesna gae +to hear the fushionless curates!"</p> + +<p>At this instant, one of the dragoons drew up his horse +at the door, asking if a man, such as he described, with a +blue bonnet and a grey duffle coat, had returned late last +night, or rather this morning, to bed. Old Tibby answered, +in a quavering voice, that the man mentioned had left her +house about eight o'clock, and had not yet returned. The +dragoon appeared somewhat incredulous; and, giving his +horse to the girl to hold, he dashed at once and boldly +into the room, where the three persons already mentioned +were seated. The young farmers questioned immediately +the propriety of his conduct; but he drew his +sword, and swore that he would make cats' meat of the first +that should lay hold upon him. He had no sooner said so, +than a man sprang upon him from the fireside, and, striking +his sword-arm down with the poker, immediately +secured his person by such means as the place and time +presented. The fellow roared like a bull, blaspheming and +vociferating mightily of the crime of arresting a king's +soldier in the discharge of his duty. But he was hurried +into a concealed bed, tied firmly down with ropes and even +blankets, and made to know that, unless he was silent, he +might have to pay for his disobedience with his life. +When old Tibby saw how things were going on, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +her house might suffer by such transactions, she sallied +forth as fast as her feeble limbs and well-worn staff would +carry her, exclaiming as she went—"We'll a' be slain—we'll +a' be slain!—the laird o' Lag will be here—and +Clavers will be here—and the King himself will be here—an' +we'll a' be murdered—we'll a' be murdered!" At this +moment, the trooper appeared in his regimentals, mounted +his horse, and was off at full gallop. The granddaughter, +now relieved from holding the dragoon's horse, followed +her grandmother, and brought her lamp to the house; but, +to their infinite surprise, there was nobody there save the +very cursing trooper whom she had seen so recently ride +off. His voice was loud, and his complainings fearful; but +neither Tibby nor her granddaughter durst go near him, as +they were fully convinced that he was a devil, and no man, +since he had the power at once of mounting a horse and +flying rather than riding away, and, at the same time, of +lying cursing and swearing in a press bed in the <i>ben</i>. At +last a neighbour heard the tale, and, being less superstitions, +relieved the unfortunate prisoner from his rather awkward +predicament. He swore revenge, and to cut poor old Tibby +into two with his sword; but he found, upon searching for +his weapon, that it was absent, as well as his clothes, which +had been forcibly stripped from him when he was tied—and +that without leave—and that he had nothing for it +but to thrust himself into canonicals—in which garb he +actually walked home to his quarters, amidst the shouts of +his companions, and to the astonishment of all the staring +villagers.</p> + +<p>As he was making the best of his way to hide his disgrace +in the Spread Eagle, he was told that his commanding officer, +Sir Robert Grierson, had been wishing to speak with him, +for some time past. Upon appearing immediately in the +presence of authority, he was questioned in regard to the +mission on which he had been despatched, and was scarcely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +credited when he narrated the treatment which he had +met with, and the loss which he had sustained. A detachment +was immediately despatched in quest of the thief, +the <i>wool-merchant</i>, who had so cleverly supplied himself +with a passport from the king; and, after our soldier's person +had been unrobed, and attired for the present in his +stable undress, Lag set out with a few followers, to examine +the cave, in order to be assured of Mr Lawson's death. +"They may gallop off with our horses," said Lag, in a jocular +manner, by the way; "but they will not easily gallop off +with the old choked hound, who has led us so many dances +over the hills of Queensberry and Auchenleck." At last, +they arrived at the mouth of the cave, and entered. Black +and blue, and severely bruised, lay the dead body before +them. "Ah, ha!" said Lag, making his boot, as he expressed +it, acquainted with old Canticle's posteriors. "Ah, ha! my +fleet bird of the mountain, and we have caught you at +last, and caught you <i>napping</i>—ha, ha! Why don't you speak, +old fire and brimstone? What! not a word now!—and yet +you had plenty when you preached from the Gouk Thorn, +to upwards of two thousand of your prick-eared, purse-mouthed, +canting followers. Come, my lads, we have less +work to do now; we will e'en back to quarters, and drink a +safe voyage into the Holy Land, to old Dumb-and-flat there!" +So saying, he reined up his horse, and was on the point of +withdrawing the men, when one of them, who had eyed +the body, which was imperfectly seen in the dark cave, +more nearly than the rest, exclaimed—"And, by the Lord +Harry, and we are all at fault, and the game is off, on four +living legs, after all—off and away! and we standing +drivelling here, when we should be many miles off in hot +pursuit of this cunning fox who has contrived to give us +the slip once more."</p> + +<p>"What means the idiot?" vociferated Grierson.</p> + +<p>"Mean!—why, what should I mean, Sir Robert, but that +this here piece of carrion is no more the stinking corpse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +of old Closeburn, than I am a son of the Covenant!"</p> + +<p>It turned out, upon investigation, that this was the body +of the informer Watson, who had preceded Lag to the +cave during the terrible drift; had been observed by John +Harkness and Sandy Gibson, who were then employed in +removing Lawson to the small inn; and, after a drubbing +which disabled him from moving, he had been left the +only tenant of the cave. When Grierson came, as above +mentioned, from the drift and the cold, as well as the beating, +he was unable to speak; but his groans brought his +miserable death upon him; and Lawson, by assuming the +dragoon's garb and steed, was enabled to escape, and to +officiate, as has been already mentioned in a former paper, +for several years before his death, in his own church, from +which he had been so long and so unjustly driven. Thus +did it please God to punish the infamous conduct of +Watson, and to enable his own servant to effect his escape. +The dragoon's horse was found, one morning at day-light, +neighing and beating the hoof at old Tibby's door. It +soon found an owner, but told no stories respecting its late +occupant, who was now snugly lodged in William Graham's +parlour in the guid town of Kendal. Graham and he were +cousins-german.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<h3><a name="THE_VIOLATED_COFFIN" id="THE_VIOLATED_COFFIN"></a>XVII. —THE VIOLATED COFFIN.</h3> + +<p>An effort has, of late, been made to repel the allegations +which, for past ages, have been made against the infamous +instruments of cruelty during the twenty-eight years' persecution. +The Covenanters have been represented as factious +democrats, setting at defiance all constituted authority, +and exposing themselves to the vengeance of law and +justice. These sentiments are apt to identify themselves +with modern politics; but we hope we will never see our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +country again devastated by oppression, cruelty, and all the +shootings, and headings, and hangings of the Stuart despotism +repeated. It becomes, therefore, the duty of every +friend of good and equal government to put his hand to +the work, and to support those principles under which Britain +has flourished so long, and every man has sat in safety +and in peace under his own vine and his own fig-tree. No +train of reasoning, or of demonstration, however, will suffice +for this. The judgment is, in many occasions, convinced +of error and injustice, whilst the heart and the conduct +remain the same. There must be something in accordance +with the decisions of the judgment pressed home upon the +feelings. There must be vivid pictures of the workings of +a system of misrule placed before the mind's eye, so that a +deep and a human interest may be felt in the picture. The +reader must open the doors of our suffering peasantry, and +witness their family and fireside bereavements. He must become +their companion under the snow-wreath and the damp +cave—he must mount the scaffold with them, and even +listen to their last act and testimony. How vast is the +impression which a painter can, in this way, make upon the +spirit of the spectator! Let Allan's famous Circassian slave +be an instance in point; but the painter is limited to a +single point of time, and the relation which that bears and +exhibits to what has gone before or will come after; but +the writer of narrative possesses the power of shifting his +telescope from eminence to eminence—of varying, <i>ad libitum</i>, +time, place, and circumstances—and thus of making up for +the acknowledged inferiority of written description of narratives +to what is submitted, as Horace says, "<i>Oculis fidelibus</i>," +by his vast and unlimited power of variety. The +means, therefore, by which past generations have been +made to feel and acknowledge the inhumanities, the scandalous +atrocities of those blood-stained times, still remain +subservient to their original and long tried purposes; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +it becomes the imperious duty of every succeeding age to +transmit and perpetuate the impressions of abhorrence with +which those times were regarded and recollected. This +duty, too, becomes so much the more necessary, as the times +become the more remote. The object which is rapidly +passed and distanced by the speed of the steam-engine, +does not more naturally diminish in dimensions to the eye, +as it recedes into the depths of distance, than do the events +which, in passing, figured largely and impressively, lose +their bulk and their interest when removed from us by the +dim and darkening interval of successive centuries; and the +only method by which their natural and universal law can +be modified, or in any degree counteracted, is by a continuous +and uninterrupted reference to the past—by making +what is old, recent by description and imagination; and +by more carefully tracing and acknowledging the connection +which past agents and times have, or may be supposed +to have, upon the present advancement and happiness of +man. Had the devotedness of the Covenanter and Nonconformist +been less entire than it was—had the arbitrary +desires of a bigoted priesthood and a tyrant prince been +submitted to—then had the Duke of York been king to the +end of his days—Rome had again triumphed in her priesthood; +and we at this hour, if at all awakened from the +influence of surrounding advancement to a sense of our +degradation, had been only enacting bloody Reformation, +instead of bloodless Reform, and suffering the incalculable +miseries which our forefathers, centuries ago, anticipated. +Nay, more, but for the lesson taught us by the friends of +the Covenant and the conventicle, where had been the +great encouragement to resist political oppression in all +time to come, when the proudly elevated finger may point to +the record, which said, and still says, in letters indeed of +blood—"A people resolved to be free, can never be ultimately +enslaved." The Covenant had its use—and, immense<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +in its own day, and in its immediate efforts, it placed +William, and law, and freedom on the throne of Britain; +but that is as nothing in the balance, when compared with +the less visible and more remote effects of this distinguished +triumph:—It, throughout all the last century, maintained +a firm and unyielding struggle with despotism, sometimes +indeed worsted, but never altogether subdued; and it has, +of late years, issued in events and triumphs too recent and +too agitating to be now fairly and fully discussed. Nor +will the influence of the Covenant cease to be felt in our +land, till God shall have deserted her, and left her entirely +to the freedom of her own will, to the debasing +influence of that luxury and corruption which has formed +the grave of every kingdom that has yet lived out its +limited period.</p> + +<p>These Gleanings of the Covenant have been written +under the impression, and with the view above expressed; +and it is hoped that the following narrative, true in all its +leading circumstances, and more than true in the "vraisemblable," +may contribute something to the object thus distinctly +stated.</p> + +<p>The funeral of Thomas Thomson had advanced from the +Gaitend to the Lakehead. The accompaniment was numerous—the +group was denser. Thomas had lived respected, +and died regretted. He was the father of five +helpless children, all females, and his wife was manifestly +about to be delivered of a sixth. Just as the procession had +advanced to the house of Will Coultart, a troop of ten men +rode up. They had evidently been drinking, and spoke not +only blasphemously, but in terms of intimidation.—"Stop, +you cursed crew," said the leader. "He has escaped law, +but he shall not escape justice. Come here, lad;" and +at once they alighted from their horses, seized the coffin, +and opening the lid, were about to penetrate the corpse +through and through. "Stop a little," said John Ferguson,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +the famous souter of Closeburn; "there are maybe twa at +a bargain-making;" so saying, he lifted an axe which he +took up at a wright's door, and dared any one to disturb +them in their Christian duty. A "pell-mell" took place, in +the midst of which poor Ferguson was killed. He had two +sons in the company, who, seeing how their father had been +used, rushed upon the dragoons, and were both of them +severely wounded. In the meantime, Douglas of Drumlanrig +came up, and, understanding how things went, ordered +the soldiers to give in, and the wounded men to be taken +care off. All this was wondrous well; but what follows is +not so. The body of Ferguson was carried to Croalchapel; +and the two sons accompanied it, with many tears. Douglas +seemed to feel what had happened, and could not avoid +accompanying the party home. He entered the house of +mourning, where there was a dead father, a weeping widow, +and two wounded sons. He entered, but he saw nothing +but Peggy. Poor Peggy was an only sister of these lads—an +only daughter of her murdered father. Douglas was a +man of the world! Oh, my God, what a term that is! and +how much misery and horror does it not contain. Peggy was +really beautiful; not like Georgina Gordon, or Lady William, +or Mrs Norton, or Lady Blessington; for her beauty +depended in no degree upon art. Had you arrayed her in +rags, and placed her in a poor's-house, she would have appeared +to advantage. Peggy, too, (the God who made her +knows,) was pure in soul, and innocent in act as is the +angel Gabriel! she never once thought of sinning, as a +woman may, and does (sometimes) sin; she lived for her +father, whom she loved—and for her mother, whom she did +not greatly dislike. But her mother was a stepmother, and +Peggy liked her father. Guess, then, her grief, when Peggy +saw her father murdered, her brothers wounded, and knew +the cause thereof. "Lift her," said Douglas to his men, after +he had, in seeming humanity, seen the corpse and brothers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +home; "lift her into Red Hob's saddle, and carry her to +Drumlanrig." No sooner said than done. The weeping, +screaming girl was lifted into the saddle, and conveyed, per +force, to Drumlanrig. At that gate there stood a figure +clothed in dyed garments. It was the elder brother of +Peggy, he who had been least injured of the two. He stood +with his sword in his hand, and dared any one who would +conduct his sister into the abode of dishonour. Douglas +snapped, and then fired a pistol at him, but neither took +effect. In the meantime, the brother was secured, and the +sister was carried into the "Blue Room," well known afterwards +as the infamous sleeping-chamber of old "Q." The +not less infamous, though ultimately repentant Douglas, +advanced into the chamber. The poor girl seemed as if she +had seen a snake; she shrunk from his approach and from +his blandishments. She had previously opened the window +into the green walk; she had taken her resolve, and, in a +few instants, lay a maimed, almost mangled being, on the +beautiful walks of Drumlanrig. Douglas was manifestly +struck by the incident, but not converted. He took sufficient +care to have the poor girl conveyed home, and to have the brothers +provided for, but his hour was not yet come. It was +not till after his frequent conversations with the minister of +Closeburn, that he came to a proper sense of his horrible +conduct. But what was the awful devastation of this +family. The poor beauteous flower Peggy, who was about +to have been married to a farmer's son, (Kirkpatrick of +Auchincairn,) was by him rejected. He called at the house +sometime afterwards, with a view to see her; but he came +full of suspicion, and therefore unwilling to receive the +truth. He had heard the whole story, and must have known +that his Peggy was at least as pure in mind as she had been +beautiful in person; but he belonged not naturally to the +noble stock of the family to which he was to have been +allied, and gave himself up to prejudice. The girl was still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +in bed, to which, from her bruises, she had been confined for +months. The meeting might have been one which a poet +would have gloried in describing, or a painter in delineating +and embellishing, with hues stolen from the arc of Heaven! +Alas! it was one only worthy of the pencil of a Ribera—fraught +with cruelty, and abounding in selfishness and dishonour. +The girl, as she turned her pale yet beautiful face +on him, told him the truth, and watched, with tears in her +eyes, the effect of her narrative on one whose image had +never been absent from her mind, if indeed it had not supported +her in her struggle, and nerved her to the purpose +which preferred death to dishonour. Her bruises and +wounds spoke for her, and, to any one but her lover, would +have proved that he was a part of the object of her sacrifice. +It was all to no purpose. The eloquence of truth, of +love, of nature, were lost upon him; nothing would persuade +him that the object of his love had not been degraded. +He turned a cold glance of doubt upon her, and +turned to leave the room. Peggy rushed out of bed, and, +maimed and weak as she was, would have stopped him. +Her energies failed her—her lover was gone; and her +mother, roused by the cries of her pain, came and assisted +her again into bed. Poor Peggy heard no more of Kirkpatrick. +She sickened and died?—no! far worse!—she +became desperate, married a blackguard, and lived a drunkard; +the sons were banished for firing at Douglas, as he +passed in his carriage through Thornhill; and the poor +mother of the whole family became—shall I tell it I—an object +of charity! Thus was, to my certain knowledge, at +least to that of my ancestors, a most creditable and well-doing +family ruined, root and branch, by the persecutors—or, +in other words, by those who, without knowing what +they did, regarded the "Covenant" as an unholy thing, +and fought the foremost in the ranks of oppression and +uniformity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, there is not a word of this in Woodrow, or Burns, +or even in the MS. of the Advocate's Library; and yet we +can assure the reader, that the material facts are as true +as is the death of Darnley, or the murder of Rizzio! God +bless you, madam! you have, and can have, and ought to +have no notion whatever of the united current of <i>horribility</i>, +which ran through the whole ocean of cruelty during these +awful and most terrific times! May the God that made, +the Saviour that redeemed, and the Holy Spirit that prepares +us for heaven, make us thankful that in <i>those times</i> we +do not live; and that such men as Woodrow and Burns +(the first and the last) have been raised up, to vindicate and +to justify such men as then suffered in their families, or in +their persons, for the covenanted cause of the Great Head +of our Presbyterian Church!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SURGEON'S TALES.</h2> + +<h3>THE MONOMANIAC.</h3> + + +<p>In some of my prior papers, I have had occasion to make +some oblique references to that disease called <i>pseudoblepsis +imaginaria</i>—in other words, a vision of objects not present. +Cullen places it among local diseases, as one of a depraved +action of the organs contributing to vision; "whereby, of +course, he would disjoin it from those cases of madness +where a depraved action of the brain itself produces the +same effect. In this, Cullen displays his ordinary acuteness; +for we see many instances where there is a fancied +vision of objects not present, without insanity; and, indeed, +the whole doctrine of spirits has latterly been founded on +this distinction.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> From the very intimate connection, however, +which exists between the visual organs and the brain +itself, it must always be a matter of great difficulty—if indeed, +in many cases, it be not entirely impossible—to +make the distinction available; for there are cases—such as +that of the conscience-spectre, and those that generally +depend upon thoughts and feelings of more than ordinary +intensity—that seem to lie between the two extremes of +merely diseased visual organs and diseased brains; and, in +so far as my experience goes, I am free to say that I have +seen more cases of imaginary visions of distant objects, resulting +from some terrible excitement of the emotions, than +from the better defined causes set forth by the medical +writers. Among the passions and emotions, again, that in +their undue influence over the sane condition of the mind,</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> +<p>are most likely to give rise to the diseased vision of <i>phantasmata</i>, +I would be inclined to place that which usually +exerts so much absorbing power over the young female +heart. The cause lies on the surface. In the case of the +passions—of anger, revenge, fear, and so forth—the feeling +generally works itself out; and, in many cases, the object +is so unpleasant that the mind seeks relief from it, and flies +it; while, in the emotions of love, there is a morbid brooding +over the cherished image that takes hold of the fancy; +the object is called up by the spell of the passion placed before +the mind's eye, and held there for hours, days, and +years, till the image becomes almost a stationary impression, +and is invested with all the attributes of a real presence. +I do not feel that I would be justified in saying +that I am able to substantiate the remark I have now made +by many cases falling under my own observation; the examples +of <i>monomania</i> in sane persons are not very often to +be met with; and I have heard many of my professional +brethren say, that they never experienced a single instance +in all their practice.</p> + +<p>The case I am now to detail, occurred within two miles +of the town of ——. The patient was a lady, Mrs C——, +an individual of a nervous, irritable temperament, and possessed +of a glowing fancy, that, against her will, brought up +by-past scenes with a distinctness that was painful to her. +She had lately returned from India, whither she had accompanied +her husband, whom she left buried in a deep, +watery grave in the channel of the Mozambique. I had +been attending her for a nervous ailment, which had shattered +her frame terribly, while it increased the powers of +her creative fancy, as well as the sensibility by which the +mental images were invested with their chief powers over +her. She suffered also from a tenderness in the <i>retina</i>, +which forced her to shun the light. How this latter complaint +was associated with the other, I cannot explain,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +unless upon the principle which regulates the connection +between the sensibility of the eye and the heated brains +of those who labour under inflammation of that organ. I +was informed by her mother, Mrs L——, as well as her +sister, that she had come from India a perfect wreck, both +of mind and body; and, for a period of eighteen months +afterwards, could scarcely be prevailed upon to see any of +her friends—shutting herself up for whole days in her +room, the windows of which were kept dark, to prevent the +light, which operated like a sharp sting, from falling upon +her irritable eyes. It was chiefly with a view to the removal +of this opthalmic affection, that I was requested to visit +her; and I could very soon perceive, that the visionary +state of her mind was closely connected with the habit +of dark seclusion to which she was necessitated to resort, +for the purpose of avoiding the pain produced by the rays +of the sun. On my first interview, I found her sitting alone +in the darkened room, brooding over thoughts that seemed +to exert a strong influence over her; but she soon joined +me in a conversation which, diverging from the subject of +her complaint, embraced topics that brought out the peculiarity +of her mind—a strong enthusiastic power of portraying +scenes of grief which she had witnessed, and which, as +she proceeded, seemed to rise before her with almost the +vividness of presence; yet, with her, judgment was as strong +and healthy as that of any day-dreamer among the wide +class of mute poets, of whom there are more in the world +than of philosophers.</p> + +<p>I could not detect properly her ailment, and resolved to +question her mother alone.</p> + +<p>"Did you not notice anything peculiar about my daughter?" +she said.</p> + +<p>"The love of a shaded room, resulting from an irritability +in the organs of sight, is to me no great rarity," I replied.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Though her fit has not been upon her," rejoined she, +with an air of melancholy, "it is not an hour gone since her +scream rung shrilly through this house, as if she had been +in the hands of fiends; and, to be plain with you, I left you +to discover yourself what may be too soon apparent. I fear +for her mind, sir."</p> + +<p>"I have seen no reason for the apprehension; but her +scream, was it not bodily pain?"</p> + +<p>"I could wish that it had been mere bodily pain; but it +was not. You have not heard Isabella's history," she continued, +in a low, whispering tone. "She has experienced +what might have turned the brain of any one. I discovered +something extraordinary in her about six months ago. One +evening, when the candles were shaded for the relief of her +eyes, and I and Maria were sitting by her, she stopped suddenly +in the midst of our conversation, and sat gazing intensely +at something between her and the wall; pointing +out her finger, her mouth open, and scarcely drawing her +breath. I was terror-struck; for the idea immediately +rushed into my mind, that it was a symptom of insanity; +but I had no time for thought—a scream burst from her, +and she fell at my feet in a faint. When she recovered, she +told us that she had seen, in the shaded light of the candle, +which assumed the blue tinge of the moonlight, the figure +of a dead body sitting upright in the waters, with the sailcloth +in which he was committed to the deep wrapped +around him, and his pale face directed towards her. At +the recollection of the vision, she shuddered, would not +recur to the subject again, but betrayed otherwise no +wandering of the fancy. Several times since, the same +object has presented itself to her; and, what is extraordinary, +it is always when the candle is shaded; yet she +exhibits the same judgment, and I could never detect +the slightest indication of a defect in the workings of +her mind. I sent for you to treat her eyes, and left it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> +to you to see if you could discover any symptoms of a +diseased mind."</p> + +<p>"Was the object she thus supposes present to her, ever +exposed in reality to the true waking sense?" said I, suspecting +a case of <i>monomania</i>.</p> + +<p>"Did she not tell you?" rejoined she. "Come."</p> + +<p>And leading me again into her daughter's darkened +apartment, she whispered something in her ear, retired, and +left us together.</p> + +<p>"Your mother informs, me, madam," said I, "that you +have seen <i>what exists not</i>; and I am anxious, from professional +reasons, to know from yourself whether I am to attribute +it to the creative powers of an active fancy, or to an +affection of the visual organs, that I have read more of than +I have witnessed."</p> + +<p>She started, and I saw I had touched a tender part—probably +that connected with her own suspicions that her +mother and sister deemed her insane.</p> + +<p>"It was for this purpose, then, that you have been called +to see me?" she replied, hastily. "It is well; I shall be +tested by one who at least is not prejudiced. My mother +and sister think that I am deranged. I need not tell you +that I consider myself sane, although I confess that this +illusion of the sense, to which I am subjected, makes me +sometimes suspicious of myself. Will you listen to my +story?"</p> + +<p>I replied that I would; and thus she began:—</p> + +<p>Experience, sir, is a world merely to those who live in +it—it exists not—its laws cannot be communicated to the +heart of youth; the transfusion of the blood of the aged +into the veins of the young to produce wisdom, is not more +vain than the displacing of the hopes of the young mind +by the cold maxims of what man has felt, trembled to feel, +and wished he could have anticipated, that he might have +been prepared for it. Such has ever been, such is, such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +will ever be, the history of the sons and daughters of Adam. +What but the changes into which I—still comparatively a +young woman—have passed—not, it would almost seem, +mutations of the same principle, but rather new states of +existence—could have wrung from a heart, where hope +should still have lighted her lamp, and illuminated my +paths, these sentiments of a dearly purchased experience? +When I and George Cunningham, my schoolfellow, my first +and last lover, and subsequently my husband, passed those +brilliant days of youth's sunshine among the green holms +and shaggy dells of ——; following the same pursuits—conning +the same lessons—indulging in the same dreams of +future happiness, and training each other's hearts into a +community of feeling and sentiment, till we seemed one +being, actuated by the same living principle: in how happy +a state of ignorance of those changes that awaited me in the +world, did I exist? I would fall into the hackneyed strain of +artificial fiction writing, were I to portray the pleasures of +a companionship and love that had its beginning in the very +first impulses of feeling; with a view to set off by contrast +the subsequent events that awaited us, when our happiness +should have been realized.</p> + +<p>When a woman of sensibility says she loves a man, she +has told, through a medium that works out the conditions +of the responding powers of our common nature, the heart, +more than all the eulogistic eloquence of the tongue could +achieve, to show the estimate she forms of the qualities of +the object of her affections; but when she adds that that +love originated in the friendship of children, grew with the +increase of the powers of mind and body, and entered as a +part into every feeling that actuated the young hearts, she +has expressed the terms of an endearment so pure, tender, +exclusive, and lasting, that it transcends all the ordinary +forms of the communion of spirits on earth. The attachment +is different from all others—it stands by itself; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +to endeavour to conceive its purity and force by any factitious +mixture of friendship, and the ordinary endearments of +limited time and favourable circumstances of meeting, would +be as vain as all hypothetical investigation into the nature of +feeling must ever be. I cannot tell when I first knew the +young man whose name I have mentioned under an emotion +that shakes my frame; the syllables were a part of my early +lispings, and I cannot yet think that they are unconnected +with a being that has now no local habitation upon earth. +Our parents were intimate neighbours; and the woods and +waters of ——, if their voices—sweeter than articulated intelligence—could +imitate the accents of man, would tell best +when they wooed us into that communion, which they cherished, +and witnessed, with an apparent participation of our +joy, to open into an early affection. The power of mutual objects +of pleasure and interest, especially if they are a part +of the lovely province of nature—the rural landscape, +secluded and secreted from the eyes of all the world besides, +with its dells and fountains, birds and flowers—in increasing +the attachment of young hearts, has been often observed +and described; but we felt it. These inanimate objects are +generally, and were to us, not only a tie, but they shared a +part of our love, as if in some mysterious way they had become +connected with, and a part of us. The often imputed +association of ideas is a poor and inadequate solution of this +work of nature: it is the effect put for the cause; the common, +boasted philosophy of man, who invents terms of +familiar sound to explain secrets eternally hidden from him. +If we who felt, as few have ever felt, the influence of these +green, umbrageous shades—with their nut-trees, bushes, +flowers, and gowany leas; their singing birds, and nests +with speckled eggs; their half-concealed fountains of limpid +water, and running streams, and beds of white pebbles—in +nourishing and increasing our young loves, could not +tell how or why they were invested with such power; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +philosopher, I deem, may resign the task, and say, with a +sigh, that it was nature, and nature alone, who did all this; +and the secret will remain unexplained.</p> + +<p>We enjoyed ten years of this intercourse—I calculate from +the fifth to the fifteenth year of our youth—and every one +of these years, as it evolved the ripening powers of our +minds, so it strengthened the mingling affections of our +hearts. We became lovers long before we knew the sanctions +and rights, and duties of pledged faith; we were each +other's by a troth, a thousand times spoken; exchanged and +felt in the throbbing embrace, the burning sighs, and the +eloquent looks, that were but the natural impulses of a feeling +we rejoiced in, yet scarcely comprehended. My heart, +recoiling from the thoughts of after years, luxuriates in the +memory of these blissful hours; and, were not the theme +exhausted a thousand times by the eloquence of rapt feeling, +speaking with the tongue of inspiration, I could dwell +on these early rejoicings of unsullied spirits for ever.</p> + +<p>My dream was not scattered—it was only changed in its +form and hues, when my youthful betrothed was removed +from home, to go through a course of navigation to fit him for +the service of the sea, to which the intentions of his father, +and his own early wishes, led him. I could have doubted my +existence sooner than the faith of his heart; and he was +only gone to make those preparations for attaining a position +in society that would enable him to realize those fond +and bright prospects we had indulged in contemplating +among the woods that resounded to pledges exchanged in +the face of heaven. The first place of his destination was +London, from whence, for a period of about three years, +I heard from him regularly by letters, which breathed with +an increased warmth the same sentiments we had repeated +and interchanged so often during the long period of our +prior intercourse. Some time after this, he sailed to India; +then were my thoughts first tinged by the changing hues of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +solitude; and my hopes and fears bound to the wayward +circumstances of a world which had as yet been to me a +paradise.</p> + +<p>I heard nothing from him for two long years after he left +London. A portrayment of my thoughts during that +period would be a thousand times more difficult than for +the painter to seize and represent the changing hues of the +gem that, thrown on a tropic strand, reflects the endless +hues of the earth and sky. I trembled and hoped by turns +but every idea and every feeling were so strongly mingled +with reminiscences of former pleasures, the prospects of +future happiness, the fears of a change in his affections, or +of his death, that I could not pronounce my mind as being, +at any given moment, aught but a medium of impressions +that I could not seize or fix, so as to contemplate myself. +All I can say is, that he was the presiding genius of every +emotion with which my heart was influenced; and, to +those who have loved, that may be sufficient to shew the +utter devotion of every pulse of my being to the deified +image enshrined within my bosom. Now came the period +of the realizing of my dreams. George Cunninghame came +back, and married me.</p> + +<p>We had scarcely been two months married when my +husband, whom I loved more and more every day, got, by +the influence of powerful friends, the command of a large +vessel—the <i>Griffin</i>—engaged in the trade to India. It was +arranged that I should accompany him, that, as we had +been associated from our earliest infancy, (our separation +had been only that of the body, and interfered not with the +union of the immaterial essence), we should still be together. +In this resolution I rejoiced; and, though by +nature a coward, my love overcame all my terrors of the +great deep. The day was fixed for our departure. A lady +passenger and two servants were to go with us to the Cape, +from whose society I expected pleasure; and every preparation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +which love could suggest was made to render me +happy. We left the Downs on a calm day of December, +and went down the Channel with a rattling gale from the +north. Life on board of an Indiaman has been a thousand +times described; and, would to heaven I had nothing to +detail but the ordinary conduct of civilized men! Our +chief officer was one Crawley, and our second a person of +the name of Buist—the only individual my husband had +no confidence in being Hans Kreutz, the steward, a German, +who was whispered to have been engaged as a maritime +venatic, or pirate, in the West Indies: and, if any man's +character might be detected in his countenance, this +foreigner's disposition might have been read in lineaments +marked by the graver of passion. Part of what I +have now said may have been the result of after experience; +yet I could perceive shadowings of evil at this time, +which I had not the knowledge of human nature to enable +me to turn to any account.</p> + +<p>With a series of gentle breezes and fine weather, we came +to the Cape, where Mrs Hardy and her two servants were +put ashore. One of the servants had agreed to accompany +me to Madras, and was to have come on board again, to join +us, before we left Table Bay. Whether she had changed +her mind, or been detained by some unforeseen cause, I know +not, but the boat came off without her; and all the information +that I could get was, that she was not to be found. +I trembled to be left on board of a vessel without a female +companion, and strongly insisted upon George to delay his +departure until another effort should be made to endeavour +to find a servant in Cape Town; but, a favourable wind +having sprung up at that moment, Crawley remonstrated, in +his peculiar mode of abject petitioning; and my husband, +having himself seen the advantage of seizing the favourable +opportunity for taking and accomplishing the passage of the +Mozambique, we departed, under a stiff gale; and, in a short<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +time, reached the middle of that famous Channel, where the +fears of the seamen have been so often excited by the reputed +cannibalism of the natives of Madagascar. At this +time I was strangely beset by nightly visions of terror, +which I could impute to no other cause than the stories that +George had repeated to me of the wild character of these +savages. During the day, but more especially during the +blue, sulphurous, flame-coloured twilight of that region—I +often fixed my eye on the long, dark, umbrageous coast—followed +the ranges of receding heights—threaded the deep +recesses of the valleys, that seemed to end in dark caves, and +peopled every haunt with festive savages performing their +unholy rites over a human victim, destined to form food for +creatures bearing that external impress of God's finger which +marks the lords of the creation. Those visions were always +connected, in some way, with myself; and I could not +banish the idea, which clung to me with a morbid power of +adherence, that I might, alone and unprotected, be cast +into some of these cimmerian recesses, and be subjected to +the unutterable miseries of a fate a thousand times worse +than death, and what might follow death, by the usages of +of eaters of human beings. There was no cause for any such +apprehensions; and I am now satisfied that these dark creations +of my fancy were in some mysterious way connected +with a disordered state of my physical economy; but I was +not then aware of such predisposing causes of mental gloom, +and still brooded over my imagined horrors, till I drove rest +and sleep from my pillow, and disturbed my husband with +my pictured images of a danger that he said was far removed +from me. From him I got some support and relief; +but the faces of the men I saw around me, and especially +those of Crawley and Kreutz, seemed, to me, rather to reflect +a corroboration of my fears, than to afford me encouragement +and support. The grim visions retained their +power over me; and, the wind having fallen off almost to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +dead calm, I found myself fixed in the very midst of the +scenes that thus nourished and perpetuated them. The depression +of mind produced by these frightful day-dreams and +nightmares, made me sickly and weak. I could scarcely +take any food; every piece of flesh presented to me, reminded +me of the feasts of the inhabitants of that dark, dismal island +that lay stretching before me in the vapours of a tropical +climate, like a land of enchantment called up by fiends from +the great deep; the dyspeptic nausea of sickness was the very +food of my gloomy thoughts; and the co-operative powers +of mind and body tended to the increase of my misery, till +I seemed a victim of confirmed hypochondria.</p> + +<p>We were still fixed immovably in the same place: all +motive powers seemed to have forsaken the elements—the +sea was like a sheet of glass, the sails hung loose from +the masts, and the men lay listless about, overcome with +heat, and yawning in lethargy. It was impossible to keep +me below. I required air to keep me breathing, and felt a +strange melancholy relief from fixing my eyes on the very +scene of my terrors. Every effort to occupy my mind was +vain; and I lay, for hours at a time, with my eyes fixed on +the shore, piercing the deep, wooded hollows, following the +faint traces of the savages as they disappeared among the +thick trees, and investing every naked demon with all the +characteristics of the followers of the mysterious midnight +rites in which I conceived they engaged when the hour of +their orgies came. I often saw individuals—rendered +gigantic by the magnifying medium of the thick vapour—come +down to the beach, and fix their gaze on us for a time, +and then pace back again to the wooded recesses. Sometimes, +when unable to sleep, I crept up from the cabin, and sat +and surveyed the silent scene around me—the hazy moon, +throwing her thick beams over the calm sea—the dark shadows +of unknown birds sailing slowly through the air, and +uttering at intervals sounds I had never heard before—the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +fires of the inhabitants among the trees on the coast, that sent +up a long column of red light through the atmosphere, and exhibited +the flitting bodies of the naked beings as they danced +round the objects of their rites. It is impossible for me, by +any language of which I have the power, to convey an adequate +conception of my feelings during these hours. They +were realities to me; and, therefore, whatever may be said +against fanciful creations, I have a right to claim attention +to states of the mind and feelings that belong to our nature +in certain positions. At a late hour one night, I was engaged +in those gloomy watchings and reveries, when Kreutz +came to me, and said the captain had been taken suddenly +ill. I turned my eyes from the scene along the shore I was +surveying, and fixed them for a moment on his face, where +the light of the moon sat in deep contrast with the long +bushy hair that flowed round his temples. A shudder—that +might have been accounted for from the state of my +mind and the nature of the communication he had made to +me, but which I instinctively attributed, at the time, to the +expression of his face—passed over me, and, starting up, I +hurried into the cabin off the cuddy, where I found George +under the grasp of relentless spasms of the chest and +stomach. He was stretched along on the floor, grasping the +carpet, which he had wound up into a coil, and vomiting +violently into a bason which he had hurriedly seized before +he fell.</p> + +<p>'Good God, Isabella!' he exclaimed, 'what is this? I +am dying. That villain Cr'——</p> + +<p>And, whether from weakness or prudence, he stopped, +with the guttural sound of these two letters, Cr, which applied +equally to Crawley as to Kreutz, and left me in doubt +which of them he meant. At this moment Buist the mate +entered the cabin; and my agitation and the necessity of +affording relief to the sufferer, took my mind off the fearful +subject hinted at by the broken sentence I had heard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +With the assistance of Buist, I got him placed on the bed. +There was no doctor on board, and I was left to the suggestions +of my own mind, for adopting means to save him. +These were applied, but without imparting any relief. The +painful symptoms continued, and he got every moment +worse. Neither Crawley nor Kreutz appeared; and when +Buist went out to bring what was deemed necessary for the +patient, I hung over him, and asked him what he conceived +to have been the cause of his illness; but my question +startled him—he looked up wildly in my face; his mind +was directed towards heaven; and the means of salvation +through the redeeming influence of a believed divinity of +Him who died on the cross, was the subject alone on which +he would speak. The scene, at this moment, around me +was extraordinary, and, though I cannot say I had any distinct +perception of the individual circumstances that combined +to make up the sum of my horrors, I can now see, as +through a dark medium, the co-operating elements. There +was no candle in the cabin; the light of the moon through +the windows filling the apartment with a blue glare, and +tinging his pallid face with its hues. My mind, wrought up +by the dreamy visions I had indulged in previously, and +labouring under a disease which imparted to every feeling its +own eliminated gloom, saw even the darkest circumstances +of my condition in a false and unnatural aspect. The scenes +of our youth and early love; the impressions of the religious +sentiments he was muttering in broken snatches; the +view of his approaching death; the dark means by which it +was accomplished; my condition after he should die, in the +power of men I feared; the orgies of the natives I had been +contemplating; the deep grave, so fearful in its dead calmness; +and the monsters that revelled in it, to which he +would be consigned—all flitted through my brain; but +with such rapidity—driving out, by short energies, the more +engrossing thoughts concerned in the manner of his recovery—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +I could not particularize them, while I drew, by +some synthetic process of the mind, their general attributes, +and thus increased the terror of the scene.</p> + +<p>Two hours passed, and every moment made it more apparent +that my husband was posting to death. There was +no sound heard throughout the ship except the dull tread +of the watch; and, at intervals, the whispers of Crawley, +as he communed stealthily with Buist, who went out of the +cabin repeatedly, to carry intelligence of the state of the +sufferer. For about three quarters of an hour he had been +raving wildly. The detached words he uttered raised, by +their electric power, the working of my fancy which filled +up, by a train of thoughts scarcely more within the province +of reason, the chain of his wandering ideas. No connected +discourse on the subject of his illness, though mixed up +with all the reminiscences of an affection that had lasted +since the period of infancy, or the prospects that awaited +me in the unprecedented position in which I was about to +be thrown, could have distracted me in the manner effected +by these insulated vocables, wrung by madness from expiring +life and reason. They ring in my ears even yet, +when the beams of the moon shine through the casements; +and, even now, I think I see that dimly lighted cabin, and +my husband lying before me in the agonies of death. I +became, as if by some secret sympathy, as much deranged +as himself. As I watched him, I cast rapid looks around +me—out upon the still deep, in the direction of the fearful +island—upon the articles of domestic use lying in confusion, +and exhibiting dimly-illuminated sides and dark +shades. It seemed to me some frightful dream; and, when +I turned my eyes again on the pale face which had been +the object of my excited fancy for so many years, saw the +struggles of expiring nature, and heard the wild accents that +still came from his parched lips, I screamed, and tore my +hair in handfuls from my head. In that condition, I saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +him die; and the increase of my frenzy, produced by that +consummation of all evils, made me rush out, and forward +to the side of the ship. I felt all the stinging madness of +the resolution to die—to fly from the man who, I feared, +had murdered him—to escape from that island of cannibals, +where I thought I would be left by my relentless foes, by +plunging into the deep, when Crawley, who had heard of +his demise, seized me, and dragged me back.</p> + +<p>This paroxysm was succeeded by a kind of stupor that +seized my whole mind and body. I sat down on a cot in +the side of the cabin, and saw Kreutz bring in a light. +The glare of it startled me; but it was only as a vision +that could not awake the sleeper. They proceeded to lay +out my husband on a table. They undressed him—for his +clothes were still on; and I saw them take a large sheet, +wrap it round him, and pin it firmly at all the folds. +When their labours were finished, they took each a large +portion of brandy, and Crawley came forward and offered +me a portion. I had no power to push it from me. He +held it to my mouth; but my lips were motionless; and, +tossing it off himself, he and the others went out of the +cabin. No precaution was taken to keep me within; but +the frenzy that had previously impelled me to self-destruction +had subsided, and I shuddered at what a few moments before +appeared to me to be a source of relief. I sat for +hours in the position in which they left me, gazing upon +the dead body before me, but without the energy to rise +and look at the features of him who had formed the object +of my earliest devotions, the subject of all my fondest +dreams of early youth and matured womanhood, now lying +there lifeless. I had scarcely, during that period, consciousness +of any object, but of a long, white figure extended on +the table, with the moonlight reflected from it. The +stupor left me—I cannot tell at what hour; and the first +movement of living energy in my brain was a stinging impulse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +to rush forward and seize the body. I obeyed it, +without a power to resist; and, tearing off the folds, laid +bare the face, which was as placid as I had ever seen it, +when, watching over him, I used to steal a look of him, +during the hours of night, as he slept by my side, in the +moonlight that stole through the cabin-window. In my +agony, I clung to him—kissed the cold lips—called out +'George! George!'—threw the folds of the sheet over the +face—again looked round me for some one to comfort me—felt +the consciousness of my perilous position—and, as a +kind of refuge from the despair that met me on every hand, +withdrew again the folds, and acted over again the frenzied +parts of a madness that mocked the miseries of the inmates +of an asylum.</p> + +<p>I must have exhausted myself by the excitement into +which I was thrown; for, some time afterwards, I found +myself lying upon the cot, and wakening again to a consciousness +of all the ills that surrounded me. The light of +the moon had given place to the dull beams of earliest +dawn, which were only sufficient to shew me the extended +figure on the table, and the confusion into which the furniture +of the cabin was thrown. I heard the sounds of several +footsteps in the cuddy. Sounds of voices struck my ear; +and, rising up, I crawled forward to a situation where I could +hear the communings from which my fate might be known.</p> + +<p>'When the wind starts,' said Crawley—'it will be from +the north—we should turn and make all speed for Rio, +where we may dispose of the cargo, and then run the vessel +to the West Indies. How do the men feel disposed, +Kreutz—all braced and steady?'</p> + +<p>'All but Wingate and Ryder, who are watched by the +others,' replied the German. 'These dogs would mutiny, +ha! ha!—mein gut friend Buist is against their valking the +plank; but they must either come in or go out. Teufel! +no mutineers aboard the Griffin.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Right, Hans,' said Crawley. 'Get Murdoch to knock +together the boards—we will bury him to-morrow; but the +wife, man, what is to be done with her?'</p> + +<p>'Put her ashore, to be sure,' responded Kreutz. 'There +is not von difficulty there. The natives will be glad of +her, and we want her not. If this calm were gone, all +would be gut and recht. That is the von thing only that +troubles me.'</p> + +<p>'If there is no wind,' said Crawley, 'to carry us out of +the channel, there is none to bring any one to us.'</p> + +<p>At this moment, I thought they heard some movements, +produced by a nervous trembling that came over me, and +forced me to hold by a chair. Some whisperings followed. +Kreutz went away, and Crawley entered. I had just time +to retreat to the other side of the body of my husband. His +manner was now that which was natural to him—harsh and +repulsive. He ordered me peremptorily to the lower cabin. +I had no power to resist, or even to speak; but I saw, in the +order, the eternal separation of me and George; and, rushing +forward, I withdrew the covering from his face, to take +the last look—to imprint the last kiss on his cold lips. +The act operated like the stirrings of conscience on the +cowardly man of blood. His averted eye glanced for an +instant on the body, and, seizing the coverlet, he wrapped +up the countenance, and, taking me by the arm, hurried +me down to the apartment set apart for passengers. This +cabin was darker than the captain's, from some of the windows +having been changed into dead lights; and I considered +myself pent up in a dungeon. Hitherto my feelings +had been, in a great measure, the result of existing moving +circumstances; but now I was left to reflection, in so far as +that act of the mind could be concerned in the attempt to +picture the extremities of a fate that seemed as unavoidable +as unparalleled. The diseased visions that had distracted +me before any real evil occurred, were changed, from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +their dreamy, shadowy character, to realities. The lengthened +trains of images that were required to satisfy the +cravings of hypochondria, fled; and, in their place, there +was one general, overwhelming fear, that seemed to engross +all my thinking energies, and left no power to particularize +the visions of danger that awaited me among the savages. +There was only one presiding, prevailing idea that served as +the rallying point of my terrors; and that was the dead +body of George, with the white sheet in which he was +swathed, and the peculiarly-formed oaken table on which +he was placed, and at which we used to dine upon all the +dainties to be found on board an Indiaman. It was the +steadfastness of this idea that excluded the images of the +fearful deep recesses—the Bacchanalian orgies of the savages—their +anthropophagous rites, their midnight revels; but +retained, as it were, hanging round it, the fear they had engendered, +as a more complex feeling. After Crawley had +left me, I had thrown myself down on a couch—an act +of which I retained no consciousness; for afterwards, when +daylight began to break in through the only window that +was not closed up, I started to my feet, and did not know, +for some time, that I was separated from the corpse; the +vision of which had, during the interval, been so vivid, that +it combined the conditions of figure and locality as perfectly +as if the object had been before me.</p> + +<p>On the deck I now heard the sound of several loud voices, +and afterwards a scuffle, accompanied with the tramping of +feet. There was then silence for a time; but my ears were +stung, on a sudden, by a scream, succeeded by a plash, as +if some one had been precipitated into the sea. A gurgling +noise, as if the individual were drowning, followed; and +the suspicion rushed into my mind, that they had made an +example (to terrify the others) of one of the men who had +rebelled against the authority of the mutineers. A silence, +as deep as that of death, succeeded, which lasted about an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +hour, at the end of which period the sound of the saw and +hammer were distinctly heard. I recollected the orders of +Crawley, for Murdoch, the carpenter, to prepare George's +coffin. The knocking continued for a considerable time, +and produced such an effect upon me that the ideas, which +had been, as it were, chained up by the freezing influence +of the prevailing vision of the extended and rolled-up body, +broke away and careered through my mind with the velocity, +unconnectedness, and intensity, that belong to certain +states of excited mania. Images of the past and the future +were mixed up in confusion; and every succeeding thought +stung me with increased pain, till the idea of suicide again +suggested itself, bringing in its train that which destroyed +it—the terror of an avenging God, who will pass judgment +on the takers of their own lives. I started, and sought +forgiveness; and, for the first time under this agony, felt the +soft action of the balm of a confided trust in Him who has +mercy in endless stores for the good, but who poured his +fury even upon the house of Israel, for the blood they shed +upon the land. But, must I confess it, the relief I felt +from this high source was immediately again lost in the +cold shiverings of instinctive fear, as I heard the knocking +cease, knew the coffin was finished, and perceived, from the +sounds in the cabin off the cuddy, that they were putting +the body into the rudely constructed box, with a view of +burying him in the deep sea.</p> + +<p>Some indescribable emotion, at this time, forced me towards +the cabin window, although the sight of the water +was frightful to me. It was still and calm as ever, and the +light was already sufficient to enable me to see far down in +its green recesses. I could not take my eye from it. There +were numerous creatures swimming about in it, some of +which I had got described to me, but many of them I had +never seen before. They seemed more hideous to me now +than they had ever appeared when, on former occasions, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +sat and watched their motions. The large bull-mouthed +shark was there, rolling his huge body in apparent lethargy, +and turning up his white belly in grim playfulness, as if in +mockery of my misery. It had a charm about its truculent +savageness that riveted my attention, while it shook my +frame. It was connected in my mind with the fate of +George's body, which, every moment, I expected to hear +plash in the sea, in the midst of that shoal of creatures +with strange forms and ravenous maws. An exacerbation +of these sickly feelings made me lift my eyes; but it was +only to fix them on the not less fearful island that lay +before in the far distance, and now, in the fogs of the +morning, through which the red sun struggled to send his +beams, appeared a huge mass of inspissated vapour lying +motionless on the surface of the sea. The very indistinctness +of this hazy vision stimulated my fancy to its former +morbid activity, and I saw again the mystic wooded ravines, +sacred to the rights of cannibalism, of which I myself was +doomed to be the object.</p> + +<p>From this dream I was roused by the loud tread of men's +feet over my head, as if the individuals were bearing a load +that increased the heaviness of their steps. I was at no +loss for the cause—they were carrying the coffin with the +body in it to midship, where it was to be let down into its +watery grave. In a short time afterwards, a gurgling of +the waters met my ear, and, struggling to the foot of the +companion ladder, I would have rushed upon deck if my +strength would have permitted; but I fell upon the steps, +and, lying there, heard a cry from some of them. I gathered, +from the detached words I heard, that the bottom of the +coffin had given way, from its insufficiency and the weight +that had been put in it to make it sink; and that the body +had gone down, while the chest swam on the surface. +Several feet were now heard rapidly in motion, and the +voice of Kreutz, who was running aft, fell on my ear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Teufel!' I heard him say, 'we shall have that grim corpse +when the gallenblase—ha!—ha!—the gall bladder has +burst, rising like von geist from the bottom of the deep sea, +and staring at us. Hell take the stumper, Murdoch!'</p> + +<p>These words, uttered by the German, were followed by +some expression from Crawley, no part of which I could +make out, except the oaths directed against the carpenter. +The sounds died away; but I heard enough to satisfy me +of the fact that George's body had been consigned to the +deep with only the shroud to defend it against the attacks +of the ravenous creatures I had been contemplating. My +mind was again forced, and with increased energy, into the +train of gloomy meditations suggested by what I had heard; +and so vivid were the visions that obeyed the excited powers +of my imagination, that I forgot, as I lay brooding over +them on the sofa to which I had staggered, the danger that +next awaited myself. I could not now look at the sea, for +I feared to meet the fact which would add probation to my +imaginations—that the animals I had seen there had disappeared +to crowd round the prey that had been given to +them. Yet the actual vision of that dear form, mutilated, +torn, and devoured, could not, I am satisfied, have produced +more insufferable agony, than accompanied and resulted +from the diseased imaginings in which my fancy was engaged. +The process that I pictured going on in the bottom +of the sea, was coloured by hues so sickly, and attended by +circumstances so distorted and grim, that all natural appearances, +however harrowing, must have fallen short of the +power they exercised over me. The positions in which I +imagined him to be placed, were varied in a greater degree +than ever I had seen the human body; the expressions of +the countenance, though fixed by death, and not likely to +be changed, became as Protean as the changing postures of +the limbs; and the marine monsters that gambolled or +fought around him for the prize, were invested with forms,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +colours, and attributes, of a kind not limited to what I had +ever seen in the deep. The only idea that seemed to remain +stationary, and not liable to the mutations into which +all the others were every moment gliding, was the colour +of the body, which was that of the green medium in which +he lay. That sickly hue pervaded all parts; and even the +dark or light colours of the inhabitants of the deep, partook, +more or less, of the prevailing tint. It seemed to be the +universal of all particulars, as time or space is the medium +or condition of existence of all thought and matter; I felt +the impossibility of any idea being true that did not partake +of it; and, so strongly was the feeling of the ex-natural +that accompanied it, that even now I cannot look at anything +green without shuddering.</p> + +<p>I cannot tell how long I was under the dominion of this +train of thought. I was, in a manner, torn from it by the +entrance of Kreutz with some food for me. He growled out +a few words of mixed German and English, and left it on +the table. It is needless to say that I could eat nothing. +Even before these misfortunes overtook me, my appetite had +left me; but now I loathed all edibles. After having been +roused from the train of morbid imaginings in which I had +been engaged, and which I clung to as if they imparted to +me some unnatural satisfaction, I felt (and it is a curious +fact) a recoiling disinclination to resume the grim subject, +and even resorted to some imbecile and despairing efforts to +avoid it. It was not that I expected any relief from forbearing: +every other subject that could be suggested by my +position was equally fraught with tears and pains; but that +having, as I now suppose, exhausted, for the time, the diseased +workings, the view of an effort to call up again the +thoughts that had been as it were supplied by disease, penetrated +me with a sensation beyond the powers of endurance. +For two or three hours afterwards, my attention was directed +to the proceedings upon deck; but I could hear little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +beyond indistinct mutterings, and occasional sounds of the +treading of feet over me. The calm, which had lasted for +many days, still continued; and, until a wind sprung up, +no effort could be made by the mutineers to retrace their +progress through the channel, and proceed to their projected +destination. At last the shades of night began to fall; exhausted +nature claimed some relief from her sufferings; but +the drowsiness that overcame me, was only a medium of a +new series of imaginings still more grotesque and unnatural +than those that had haunted me during the day.</p> + +<p>When the morning dawned, I expected every moment the +execution of the purpose I had heard declared by Crawley, +to put me ashore on the island; and, during moments of +more rational reflection, I could not account for my not having +been disposed of in this way on the previous day. The +terrors of that destiny were as strong upon me as ever; but, +I must confess, that the view of real evil, almost unprecedented, +as it seemed, in its extent and peculiarity, produced +feelings entirely different from what resulted from the prior +musings of my hypochondriac fancy: I would not be believed +were I to say that the expected reality was not much +more painful than the sickly vision. The miseries were +of different kinds, proceeding from different causes, operating +upon a mind in two different states. There was something +in my own power. I was not justified in committing +suicide as a mode of escape from an affliction that God +might have seen meet to put upon me; but all my reasonings +on this subject fled before the view of this next calamity +that awaited me. An extraordinary thought seized +me, that I was not bound to hold life, when, through my +own body and sensibilities, God's laws were to be overturned, +and my sufferings were to be made a shame in the +face of heaven. I secreted a knife in my bosom, and sat +in silent expectation of the issue. I was again supplied +with meat; but, on this occasion, Crawley brought it to me—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +here began a new evil. He resumed, partially, his +former dastardly sneaking manner; made love to me; offered +me the honour of being still a captain's wife, and accompanied +the offer with, obliquely-hinted threats of a due consequence +of my rejection of his suit. I spurned him; but I cannot +dwell on the details of this proceeding. His suit was +persisted in for two or three days, when, roused to madness, +he told me, that next day, if I consented not, I would be +wedded to the natives of Madagascar. I traced the outline +of the knife through the covering of my bosom, and +defied him.</p> + +<p>The next night was clear, and somewhat chill—indications +of a cessation of the calm. The rudeness of Crawley +had had the effect of keeping my mind from falling into +the grasp of the demon of diseased fantasy; but, now my +fate was fixed, I had no more to fear from him; and towards +midnight, I fell again into the train of imaginings +that had formerly haunted me. I had opened the cabin +window for air—having felt a suffocating oppression of the +chest during the day, proceeding from the extreme heat and +the confined apartment. My eyes were again fixed in the +direction of the island. I could see the dark shade of the +land lying upon the gilded waters. All was still; my +thoughts sought again the deep—the grave of George, the +fancied condition of his body; and, as my ideas diverged to +the calm scene around, it appeared to me as if all nature +were dead, and that my own pulsations were the only living +movements on earth. Lights now began to move along +the shore, and then a fire blazed up into the firmament. +The bodies of the savages flitted before it; I had seen the +same appearances before; but I was now connected with +these orgies in a more <i>real</i> manner than formerly. They +ceased, and my mind again sought the recesses of the green +deep, where all I loved on earth lay engulfed. My eye +at times wandered over the surface of the waters; but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +feared to look downwards into their bosom. My attention +was suddenly fixed by an object in the sea. I put up my +hands and rubbed my eyes. Was I deceived by a fancy? +No! a dead body was there, not four yards distant from +where I sat. It was that of my husband, rolled up in the +same white sheet in which I had seen him extended on the +oak table, and with his head raised somewhat above the +surface, by the weights placed in the shroud having, as I +afterwards thought, descended to the feet. A part of the +sewing had been torn off the head, which was bare—the +face was openly exposed to me, the moon shone upon it; +I could perceive the very features, and even the lustreless +eyes, that seemed fixed on the ship. There was not a +breath of wind to ruffle the surface of the sea, which shone +with a blue lustre in the light of the moon; and the body +was as motionless as if it had been fixed on the earth. I +have described, hitherto, what actually befell me, with the +various states of my mind under extraordinary circumstances +of pain and depression. My fancies belonged as +much to nature as the facts which excited and nourished +them, and must be believed by those who have studied the +workings of the mind, even unconnected with the principles +and facts of pathology. This was, however, no vision of +the fancy, but a reality resulting from well-known physical +laws. I sat, fixed immovably, at the window, and felt no +more power of receding from it, than I formerly had of resigning +my musings. My eyes were fixed upon that countenance +which had been the <i>beau ideal</i> of love's idolatry—the +fairest thing on earth, and the archetype of my dreams +of heaven. I could not fly from it, horrible as it seemed +in its blue glare and ghastly expression. I loved it while it +shocked me; and all my powers of thinking were bound up +in freezing terror. I felt the hair on my head move as the +shrivelling skin became corrugated over my temples. That, +and the occasional throbbings of my heart, were the only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +motions of any part of my being; but the body I gazed at +seemed to be as immovable, and its eyes seemed not less +steadfastly fixed on me than mine were on it.</p> + +<p>How long I sat in this position I know not. There was +no internal impulse that moved me to desist. I could, I +thought, have looked for ever. Certain fearful objects possess +a charm over the mind—and this was one of them; +but I have sometimes thought that the power lay in producing +the negative state of mental paralysis; for the instant +my attention was called to a strange noise upon the +deck, I was suddenly recalled to a natural sense of the fear +it inspired. The sounds I heard were a mixture of exclamations +and objections, pronounced in tones of fear and +anger. I turned away my face from the dead body, with a +strong feeling of repugnance to contemplate it again; and, +groping my way to the companion-ladder, listened to what +was going on above. Kreutz and Crawley were in communication.</p> + +<p>'There is more than chance in that frightful appearance,' +I heard Crawley say. 'And this calm too—it will never +end. God have mercy on us! Is there no man that will +undertake to sink the body? I cannot stand the gaze of +these white balls. See! the face is directed towards me; and +yet I did not do the deed, though I authorized it. Will +no one save me from the glare of the grim avenger? I will +give twenty gold pieces to the man who will remove it to +the deep. Go forward, Kreutz, and try if you can prevail +upon a bold heart to undertake the task!'</p> + +<p>'Pho, man!' responded the German—'all von phantasy—anybody +would have risen in the same way—Teufel! +I heed it not von peterpfenning. But the men are alarmed, +and begin to say that the captain has not got fair play. +Hush! seize your degen. There is von commotion before +the mast.'</p> + +<p>I now heard a tumult in the fore part of the vessel and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +began to suspect that the crew had been led to believe that +George had died a natural death, and had been by some +means prevailed upon to work the vessel, when the wind rose +in another direction, under the command of Crawley. The +noise increased, and with it the fears of the cowardly villain +whose conscience had been awakened by such strange means. +Kreutz had left him to try to pacify the men; and the tones +of his terror-struck voice continued to murmur around.</p> + +<p>'There it still is,' he groaned, as his attention seemed to +be divided between the sight he contemplated and the tumult, +'gazing steadfastly with these lack-lustre eyes for revenge. +It is on me they are fixed—immovably fixed—as a victim +which the spirit that floats over the body in that dead +light of the moon demands, and will get. There is a God +above in that blue firmament, who sees all things. I am +lost. These men obey the call of a power that chooses that +grim apparition as its instrument to call down destruction +on my head. Ha! Kreutz has no influence here; the +avengers are prepared.'</p> + +<p>A step now came rapidly forward, and Kreutz's voice was +again heard.</p> + +<p>'If you will not try to quell them,' said he, 'all is lost. +They swear the captain has been murdered, and that verdamt +traitor Buist heads them on. Donner! shall Hans +Kreutz die like one muzzled dog? On with degen in hand, +and it may not be too late! We have friends among the +caitiffs; strike down the first man; his blut will terrify +them more than that staring geist, which is, after all, only +von natural body, with no more spirit in it than the bones +of my grandmutter. Frisch! frisch! auf, man! come, come, +dash in and strike the first mutineer!'</p> + +<p>The cowardly spirit of Crawley was acted upon by the +stern German; for I heard him cry out—</p> + +<p>'Hold there, men! what means this tumult—'sdeath?'</p> + +<p>The rest of his words were drowned by the noise; but I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +heard the sounds of his and Kreutz's feet as they rushed +forward. In an instant, the sound like that of a man falling +prostrate on the deck, met my ear; and then there rose +a yell that rung through every cranny of the ship. All +seemed engaged in a desperate struggle. The words 'Revenge +for our captain!' often rose high above all the other +sounds. The clanging of many daggers followed; several +bodies fell with a crash upon the deck, and loud groans, as +if from persons in the agonies of death, were mixed with +the cries of those who were struggling for victory. The +tramping and confusion increased, till all distinct sound +seemed lost in a general uproar. I got alarmed, and left +my station at the foot of the companion-ladder; but I knew +not whither to fly. I took again my seat at the window, +as if I felt that there was an opening for me from which I +might fly from the fearful scene. My agitation had banished +from my mind for an instant the vision of the body; +and I started again with increased fear as my eyes fell upon +the corpse that had apparently been the cause of the uproar. +It was still there, as motionless as before; yet, I thought, +still nearer to me. I saw the features still more distinctly +than ever, and found my mind again chained down by the +charm it threw over me. The sounds for a time seemed to +come upon my ear from a far, far distance, or like those +heard in a dream; and like a dreamer, too, I struggled to +get away from a vision that I at once loved and trembled +at. The noises on deck seemed as those of the world, and +the object before me the creation of the fancy that bound +my soul, but left the sense of hearing open to living sounds. +While in this state, I was suddenly roused by a rush of +several men into the cabin; they held daggers in their hands +and their countenances were besmeared with blood. I +looked at them, under the impression that they were my +enemies, and that the cause of Crawley had triumphed; but +I was soon undeceived—they told me that both he and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +Kreutz lay dead upon the deck, and that the victorious +party were determined to complete the voyage and take the +ship to Madras. The removal of one evil from a mind borne +down by the weight of many, only leaves a greater power of +susceptibility of the pain of what remains. The moment I +heard of my own personal safety, I recurred again to the +subject that affected me more deeply than even the fears of +being consigned to the natives of the island—the dead +body of George was still in the waters. The men understood +and appreciated my sufferings. I again went to the +cabin window, and, pointing to the corpse, implored Buist, +who was present, to get it taken up and buried. He replied, +that that had already been agreed upon, and orders +were given to that effect. Several of the men volunteered of +themselves to assist. A boat was put out, and I watched +the solemn process. I saw them drag up the body from the +sea, and would have flown to the deck to embrace once +more the dearest object of my earthly affections; but I was +restrained from motives of humanity. I had reason to suppose +that it had been dreadfully mutilated, and that was +the reason why I was saved the pain of the sad sight. That +same evening it was consigned again to the deep; and with +it sunk the bodies of his murderers, Crawley and Kreutz.</p> + +<p>Next day, a breeze sprang up, and bore us away from +that fatal place. My eyes were fixed on it till I could see +no longer any traces of that island which had caused me so +many fears. In a short time, we arrived in India, where I +remained about two months, and returned again with the +Griffin to Britain.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir," she continued, "all these things are in the +course of man's doings in this strange world. It is also +very natural that I should think of him. But a more dreadful +effect has followed. I shudder when I think of it."</p> + +<p>She stopped and looked at me, as if she were afraid to +touch upon the subject of the visual illusion. I told her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +that I understood the cause of her fears; and having questioned +her, I satisfied myself from her answers that I had +at last discovered a case of true <i>monomania</i>, in which the +patient conceived that she saw, with the same distinctness +as when she looked from the cabin window of the <i>Griffin</i> +the corpse of her husband swimming in the sea, with the +head and chest above the waters, surrounded with the same +blue moonlight, and every minute circumstance attending +the real presence.</p> + +<p>I meditated a cure; but I frankly confess that it was my +anxious wish to witness her under the influence of the fit; +and, with that view, I purposed waiting upon her repeatedly +in the evenings, when, under the shaded light of the +candle, it generally came over her. I was baffled in this +for several weeks, chiefly, I presume, from the circumstance +of my presence operating as an engagement of her mind; +but one evening when I was sitting with her mother in +another room, the sister came suddenly, and beckoned me +into that occupied by my patient. The door was opened +quietly and, on looking in, I saw, for the first time, a vision-struck +victim of this extraordinary disease. She sat as if +under a spell, her arms extended, her eyes fixed on the imaginary +object, and every sense bound up in that which contemplated +the spectre vision. The fit ended with a loud +scream; she fell back in her chair, crying wildly—"George!—George!" +and lay, for a minute or two, apparently insensible.</p> + +<p>I continued my study of this extraordinary case for a +considerable period; and, while I administered to her relief, +I got her to explain to me some things which may be of use +to our profession. I need not say that I was able to penetrate +the dark secret of the seat of either the pathology or +the metaphysique of the disease. That it was connected with +the irritability of her nerves, and the affection of the eyes, +there can be little doubt; because, as she mended in health,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +the fits diminished in number, and latterly went off. I may, +however, state that, from all I could learn from her, the fit +was something of the nature of a dream—all the objects +around her, at the time, being as much unnoticed as if they +existed not; and although she was possessed with an absolute +conviction that the body of her husband was actually +at the time present, it was precisely that kind of conviction +that we feel in a vivid dream.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE FOUNDLING AT SEA.</h2> + + +<p>About the year 1708 or 1710, the good ship <i>Isabella</i>, Captain +Hardy, sailed from the port of Greenock for Bombay, +being chartered by the East India Company to carry out a +quantity of arms and ammunition for the use of the Company's +forces.</p> + +<p>The <i>Isabella</i> carried out with her several passengers; +amongst whom were a lady, her child—a girl about three +years of age—and a servant-maid. This lady, whose name +was Elderslie, was the wife of a lieutenant in the British +army, who was then with his regiment at Calcutta, whither +she was about to follow him; he having written home that, +as he had been fortunate enough to obtain some semi-civil +appointments in addition to his military services, he would, +in all probability, be a residenter there for many years. The +lieutenant added that, under these circumstances, he wished +his "dear Betsy, and their darling little Julia, to join him +as soon as possible." And this, he said, he had the less +hesitation in requiring, that the appointments he alluded +to would render their situation easy and comfortable. +It was then in obedience to this invitation that Mrs +Elderslie and her child were now passengers on board +the <i>Isabella</i>.</p> + +<p>For about six weeks the gallant ship pursued her way +prosperously—that whole period being marked only by alternatives +of temporary calms and fair winds. The vessel +was now off the coast of Guinea; and here an inscrutable +Providence had decreed that her ill-fated voyage—for it was +destined to be so, flattering as had been its outset—should +terminate. A storm arose—a dreadful storm—one of those +wild bursts of elemental fury which mock the might of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +man, and hoarsely laugh at his puny and feeble efforts to +resist their destructive powers. For two days and nights the +vessel, stript of every inch of canvass, drove wildly before +the wind; and, on the morning of the third day, struck +furiously on a reef of rocks, at about half a mile's distance +from the shore. On the ship striking, the crew—not +doubting that she would immediately go to pieces, for a +dreadful sea was beating over her, and she was, besides, +every now and then, surging heavily against the rock on +which she now lay—instantly took to their boats, accompanied +by the passengers. All the passengers? No, not +all. There was one amissing. It was Mrs Elderslie. +About ten minutes before the ship struck, that unfortunate +lady, together with two men and a boy, were swept from +the deck by a huge sea that broke over the stern; sending, +with irresistible fury, a rushing deluge of water, of many feet +in depth, over the entire length of the ship. Neither Mrs +Elderslie nor any of the unhappy participators in her dismal +fate were seen again.</p> + +<p>In the hurry and confusion of taking to the boats, none +recollected that there was still a child on board—the child +of the unfortunate lady who had just perished; or, if any +did recollect this, none chose to run the risk of missing the +opportunity of escape presented by the boats, by going in +search of the hapless child, who was at that moment below +in the cabin. In the meantime, the overloaded boats—for +they were much too small to carry the numbers who were +now crowded into them, especially in such a sea as was then +raging—had pushed off, and were labouring to gain the +shore. It was a destination they were doomed never to +reach. Before they had got half-way, both boats were +swamped—the one immediately after the other—and all +on board perished, after a brief struggle with the roaring +and tumbling waves that were bellowing around them.</p> + +<p>From this moment, the storm, as if now satisfied with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +the mischief it had wrought, began to abate. In half an +hour it had altogether subsided; and the waves, though still +rolling heavily, had lost the violence and energy of their +former motion. They seemed worn out and exhausted by +their late fury.</p> + +<p>The crew of the unfortunate vessel had left her, as we +have said, in the expectation that she would shortly go to +pieces; but it would have been better for them had they +had more confidence in her strength, and remained by her; +for, strange to tell, she withstood the fury of the elements, +and, though sorely battered and shaken, her dark hull +still rested securely on the rock on which she had struck. +The wreck of the <i>Isabella</i> had been witnessed from the shore +by a crowd of the natives, who had assembled directly opposite +the fatal reef on which she had struck. They would fain +have gone out in their canoes to the unfortunate vessel when +she first struck, as was made evident by some unsuccessful +attempts they made to paddle towards her; but whether +with a friendly or hostile purpose, cannot be known. On +the storm subsiding, however, they renewed their attempts. +A score of canoes started for the wreck, reached it, and, in +an instant after, the deck of the unfortunate vessel was +covered with wild Indians. Whooping and yelling in the +savage excitement occasioned by the novelty of everything +around, they flew madly about the deck, scrambled down +into the hold, tore open bales and packages, and possessed +themselves of whatever most attracted their whimsical and +capricious fancies. While some were thus occupied in the +hold, others were ransacking the cabin. It was here, and at +this moment, that a scene of extraordinary interest took +place. A huge savage, who was peering curiously into one +of the cabin beds, suddenly uttered a yell, so piercing and +unusual, that it attracted the notice of all his wild companions; +then, plunging his hand into the bed, drew forth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +and held up to the wondering gaze of the latter, a beautiful +little girl of about three years old. It was the daughter of +the unfortunate Mrs Elderslie. The unconscious child had +slept during the whole of the catastrophe, which had deprived +her, first of her parent, and subsequently of her protectors, +and had only awoke with the shout of the savage +who now held her in his powerful, but not unfriendly +grasp; for he seemed delighted with his prize. He hugged +the infant in his bosom, looked at it, laughed over it, and +performed a thousand antics expressive of his admiration +and affection for the fair and blooming child of which he +had thus strangely become possessed. The child, for some +time, expressed great terror of her new protector and his +sable companions, calling loudly on her mother; but the +anxious and eager endearments of the former gradually +calmed her fears and quieted her cries.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the plunder of the vessel was going on +vigorously in all directions—above and below, in the cabin +and forecastle, till, at length, as much was collected as the +savages thought their canoes would safely carry. These, +therefore, were now loaded with the booty; and the whole +fleet, shortly after, made for the shore.</p> + +<p>In one of these canoes was little Julia Elderslie and her +new protector, who, by still maintaining his friendly charge +over her, shewed that he meant to appropriate her as a part +of his share of the plunder.</p> + +<p>On reaching the shore, the kind-hearted savage, as his +whole conduct in the affair shewed him to be, consigned his +little protegée to the care of a female—one of the group of +women who were on the beach awaiting the arrival of the +canoes, and who appeared to be his wife.</p> + +<p>The woman received the child with similar expressions of +surprise and delight with those which had marked her husband's +conduct on his first finding her. She turned her +gently round and round, examined her with a delighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +curiosity, patted her cheeks, felt her legs and arms, and, in +short, handled her as if she had been some strange toy, or as +if she wished to be assured that she was really a thing of +flesh and blood.</p> + +<p>For two days the natives continued their plunder of the +wreck. By the third, the vessel had been cleared of every +article of any value that could be carried away; and on this +being ascertained, a general division of the spoil, accumulated +on the shore, took place.</p> + +<p>It was a scene of dreadful confusion and uproar, and +more than once threatened to terminate in bloodshed; but +it eventually closed without any such catastrophe. The +partition was effected, the encampment was broken up, and +the whole band—men, women, and children, all loaded with +plunder—commenced their march into the interior; the +little Julia forming part of the burden of the man who had +first appropriated her; a labour in which he was from time +to time relieved by his wife.</p> + +<p>From three to four years after the occurrence of the +events just related, a Scotch merchant ship, the <i>Dolphin</i> of +Ayr, Captain Clydesdale, bound for the Cape of Good Hope, +while prosecuting her voyage, unexpectedly run short of +water, in consequence of the bursting of a tank, when off the +Gold Coast of Africa.</p> + +<p>On being informed of the accident, the captain determined +on running for the land for the purpose of endeavouring +to procure a further supply of the indispensable +necessary of which he had just sustained so serious a +loss.</p> + +<p>The vessel was, accordingly, directed towards the coast, +which she neared in a few hours; and, finally, entered a +small bay, which seemed likely to afford at once the article +wanted, and a safe anchorage for the ship while she waited +for its reception.</p> + +<p>By a curious chance, the bay which the <i>Dolphin</i> now entered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +was the same in which the <i>Isabella</i> had been wrecked +upwards of three years before. But of that ill-fated +vessel there was now no trace; a succession of storms, +similar to that which had first hurled her on the rocks, +had at length accomplished her entire destruction: she had, +in time, been beaten to pieces, and had now wholly disappeared.</p> + +<p>There was then no appearance of any kind, no memorial +nor vestige by which those on board the <i>Dolphin</i> might +learn, or at all suspect that the locality they were now in +had been the scene of so deep a tragedy as that recorded in +the early part of our tale.</p> + +<p>All unconscious of this, the <i>Dolphin</i> came to within pistol-shot +not only of the reef, but of the identical spot on which +the <i>Isabella</i> had been wrecked.</p> + +<p>Having come to anchor, a boat, filled with empty watercasks, +was despatched from the ship for the shore. In this +boat was the captain, first mate, and a pretty numerous +party of men, all well armed, in case of any interruption +from the natives.</p> + +<p>On landing, Captain Clydesdale, the mate, and two men, +leaving the others in the boat, set out in quest of water. +The search was not a tedious one. When they had walked +about a quarter of a mile inland, the gratifying noise of a +waterfall struck upon their ears. Following the delightful +sound, they quickly reached a rocky dell into which a crystal +sheet of water, of considerable breadth, was falling from +a height of about fifteen feet; and, after sportively circling +about for a moment in a deep but clear pool below, sought +the channel which conducted to the sea, found it, and glided +noiselessly away.</p> + +<p>Delighted with this opportune discovery, Captain Clydesdale +despatched one of the men who was along with him to +the boat, to order the others up with the water casks.</p> + +<p>Having seen the people commence the task of filling the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +latter, the captain and mate, each armed with a musket, +cutlass, and brace of pistols, started for a walk a little farther +inland, in order to obtain a view of the country. For nearly +an hour they wandered on, now scaling heights, and now +forcing their way through patches of tangled brushwood, +without meeting with any adventure, or seeing anything at +all extraordinary. They had now gained the banks of +the stream which, lower down, formed the cascade at which +the water casks were filling; and this they proposed to +trace downwards, as its banks presented a clear and open +route, till they should reach the point whence they had +started.</p> + +<p>While jogging leisurely along this route, the adventurers, +by turning a projecting rock, suddenly opened a small bight +or hollow, sheltered on all sides, except towards the river, +by the high grounds around it. In the centre of this little +glen was an Indian encampment! Alarmed at this unexpected +sight, the captain and mate abruptly halted, and +would have again retreated behind the projecting rock or +knoll which had first concealed them, and taken another +route, but they perceived they were seen by a group of male +natives who were lolling on the grass in front of the wigwams. +On seeing the white men—who now stood fast, +aware that it was useless to attempt to retreat—the Indians +sprang to their feet with a loud yell, and rushed towards +them. The captain and mate instinctively brought down +their muskets; for reason would have shown them that resistance +was equally useless with flight. The hostile attitude, +however, which they had assumed, had the effect of +checking the advance of the natives, who suddenly halted, +and, to the great relief of the captain and mate, made +friendly signs of welcome to them.</p> + +<p>Confiding in and returning these signs, the latter raised +their muskets and advanced towards the party, who now +also resumed their march towards the strangers. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +met, when, after some attempts at conversation, conducted +on the part of the natives with great good-humour, but, on +both sides, altogether in vain, one of the former suddenly +ran off at full speed towards the wigwams, into one of which +he plunged, and instantly reappeared, leading a female child +of six or seven years of age by the hand. As he advanced +towards the captain and mate, he kept pointing to the child's +face, then to his own, then towards those of the strangers, +and laughing loudly the while.</p> + +<p>With an amazement which they would have found it difficult +to express, Clydesdale and his companion perceived that +the child, now produced, was fair, of regular features, smooth +hair, and without any trace of African origin. Exposure to +a tropical sun had deeply embrowned her little cheeks; but +enough of bloom still remained, as, when coupled with other +characteristics, left no doubt on the minds of the captain and +his mate that the child, however it had come into its present +situation, was of European parentage.</p> + +<p>His curiosity greatly excited by this extraordinary circumstance, +Mr Clydesdale now endeavoured to obtain some +account of the child from the natives; but he could make +little or nothing of the attempted conference on this subject. +From what, however, he did gather, he came to the conclusion—a +very accurate one, as the reader may guess—that +a shipwreck had taken place on the coast, and that the +child had been saved by the natives.</p> + +<p>Believing this to be the case, Captain Clydesdale now +became anxious to know whether any others had escaped; +but could not make himself understood. At length one of +the savages, of more apt comprehension than the others, +seemed to have obtained a glimmering of the import of +the captain's queries, and fell upon an ingenious mode of +replying to them. Grasping Mr Clydesdale by the arm, +he conducted him to a small pool of water that was hard +by. He then took a piece of bark that was lying on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +ground, placed about a dozen small pebbles on it, and +launched it into the pool. Then stooping down, he edged +it over, till the stones slid, one after the other, into the +water, until one only remained. Allowing the piece of +bark now to right itself, and to float on the water, he +pointed to the single stone it carried, and then to the +child; thus intimating, as Mr Clydesdale understood it, +and as it was evidently meant to signify, that all had +perished excepting the little girl.</p> + +<p>While this primitive mode of communication was going +on, the man who had brought the child to Captain Clydesdale +had returned to his wigwam, and now reappeared, +carrying several articles in his hand, which he held up to +the former. Mr Clydesdale took them in his hand, and +found them to consist of fragments of a child's dress, made, +as he thought, after the fashion of those in use in Scotland. +On the corner of what appeared to be the remains of a +little shift, he discovered the initials, J. E. But the most +interesting relic produced on this occasion, was a small +locket, containing some rich black hair on one side, and on +the other the miniature of a young man in a military uniform, +with the same initials, J. E., engraven on the rim. +This locket, the man who brought it gave Captain Clydesdale +to understand, had been found hanging around the +neck of the child when first discovered.</p> + +<p>Satisfied now, beyond all doubt, of the child's European +descent, Mr Clydesdale approached her, took her kindly +by the hand, and, hoping to make something of her own +testimony, began to put some questions to her; but, to his +great disappointment, found that she did not understand +him, although he spoke to her both in French and English. +The little girl, in truth, he soon discovered, neither understood +nor spoke any language but that of the tribe in whose +hands she was.</p> + +<p>It appeared, however, sufficiently clear to Captain Clydesdale,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +that a shipwreck had taken place on the coast, and +that at no very great distance of time, and that the child +before him had been on board of the unfortunate vessel. +Various circumstances, too, led him to the belief that the +ship had been a British one; and in this opinion he was +joined by the mate.</p> + +<p>The result of the Captain's reflections on these points, +was a determination to take the child to Scotland with him, +if he could prevail upon her present possessors to part with +her, and to take his chance of making some discovery regarding +her on his return home.</p> + +<p>Having come to this resolution, he hastened to make +known to the natives his wish to have the little girl; +and was well pleased to perceive that the proposal, which +they seemed at once to comprehend, was not received +with any surprise, far less indignation. Encouraged by +this reception of his overture, Captain Clydesdale now +addressed himself particularly to the man who appeared +to be the guardian, or, perhaps, proprietor of the child, +and, unbuckling his cutlass from his side, presented it +to him—making him, at the same time, to understand +that he offered it as the price of the little girl. The man +demurred. Captain Clydesdale pulled a clasp-knife out +of his pocket, and made signs that he would give that +also, provided the locket and fragment of shift, with the +initials on it, were given along with the child. This addition +to the first offer had the desired effect. The cutlass +and knife were accepted, the locket and shift given in exchange, +and the little hand of the girl placed in Captain +Clydesdale's, to signify that she was now his property. +After some farther interchange of civilities with the natives, +the captain, his mate, and the little Julia Elderslie—for, we +presume, the reader has been all along perfectly aware that +the child in question was no other than that unfortunate +little personage—proceeded on their way towards the place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +where the watering party had been left. This spot they +reached in safety, after about an hour's walking, and found +the men waiting their return—the casks having been already +all filled and shipped.</p> + +<p>In half an hour after, the boat was alongside the <i>Dolphin</i>, +and little Julia was handed upon deck; and, in less +than another hour, the ship was under weigh, and prosecuting +her voyage to the Cape, where she ultimately +arrived in safety. During this time, Captain Clydesdale +had discovered in his Ponakonta—the name given to little +Julia by the Africans, and by which he delighted to call +her—a disposition so docile and affectionate, and a manner +so gentle and unobtrusive, that he already loved her with +all the tenderness of a parent, and had secretly resolved +that he would adopt her as his own, and as such bring her +up and educate her, if no one possessed of a better right to +discharge this duty to her should ever appear.</p> + +<p>In about six months after the occurrence of the events +just related, the good ship <i>Dolphin</i> arrived safely at the +harbour of Ayr, all well; and the little demi-savage, +Ponakonta, in high spirits, and already beginning to +jabber very passable English—an acquisition which still +more endeared her to her kind-hearted protector, who +took great delight in listening to her prattle, and in +questioning her regarding her life amongst the Africans—of +which she was now able to give a tolerably intelligible +account. She had, however, no recollection whatever of +the shipwreck, nor of any incident connected with it. +Some dreamy reminiscences, indeed, she had of her mother; +but, as might have been expected, considering how very +young she was when that catastrophe happened which had +deprived her of her parent, they were too vague and indefinite +to be of the slightest avail towards throwing any light +on her parentage.</p> + +<p>On arriving at Ayr, Captain Clydesdale's first step, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +regard to his little charge, was to avail himself of every +means he could think of to make her singular history, with +all its particulars, publicly known, in the hope that it +might bring some one forward who stood in some relationship +to her. The worthy man, however, took this step +merely as one that was right and proper in the case, and +not, by any means, from any desire to get rid of his little +protegée. On the contrary, if truth be told, he would have +been sadly disappointed had any one appeared to claim her. +Nothing of this kind occurring, after a lapse of several +weeks, Captain Clydesdale—who, although pretty far advanced +in years, was unmarried, and had no domestic establishment +of his own, being almost constantly at sea—placed +little Julia under the charge of some female relatives, with +instructions to give her every sort of education befitting her +years; for all of which—boarding, clothing, and tuition—he +came under an obligation to pay quarterly—giving a +handsome sum, in the meantime, to account. Having +thus disposed of his protegée, and satisfied that he had +placed her in good hands, which was indeed the case, +Captain Clydesdale went again to sea—his destination, on +this occasion, being South America.</p> + +<p>The worthy man, however, did not go away before having +a parting interview with his little Ponakonta, whom +he kissed a thousand times, nor before he had entreated +for her every kindness and attention, during his absence, +at the hands of those whom he had now constituted her +guardians. It was upwards of two years before Captain +Clydesdale returned from this voyage; for it included +several trading trips between foreign ports; and thus was +his absence prolonged.</p> + +<p>Great was the good man's delight with the improvement +which he found had taken place on his little charge +since his departure. She now spoke English fluently; had +made rapid progress in her education; and gave promise of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +being more than ordinarily beautiful. Captain Clydesdale +had the farther satisfaction of learning that she was a universal +favourite—her gentle manners and affectionate disposition +having endeared her to all.</p> + +<p>On first casting eyes on her protector, after his return +from South America, little Julia at once recognised him, +flew towards him, flung her arms about his neck, and wept +for joy—calling him, in muttered sounds, her father, her +dear father. Deeply affected by the warmth of the grateful +child's regard, Captain Clydesdale, with streaming eyes, +took her up in his arms, hugged her to his bosom, and +kissed her with all the fervour of parental love. Soon +after, Captain Clydesdale again went to sea; and, by and +by, again returned. Voyage after voyage followed, of +various lengths; and, after the termination of each, the +worthy man found his interesting protegée still advancing +in the way of improvement, and still strengthening her hold +on the affections of those around her.</p> + +<p>Time thus passed on, until a period of nine years had +slipped away; and when it had, Julia Elderslie—who now +bore, and had all along, since her arrival in Scotland, borne, +the name of Maria Clydesdale—was a blooming and highly +accomplished girl of sixteen.</p> + +<p>It was about this period that Captain Clydesdale began +to think of retiring from the sea, and of settling at home +for the remainder of his life. He was now upwards of sixty +years of age, and found himself fast getting incompetent to +the arduous duties of his profession. Fortunately, he was +in a condition, as regarded circumstances, to enable him +to effect the retirement he meditated. He was by no means +rich; but, having never married, he had accumulated sufficient +to live upon, for the few remaining years that might +be vouchsafed him.</p> + +<p>Part of Captain Clydesdale's little plan, on this occasion, +was to rent or purchase a small house in the neighbourhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +of the village of Fernlee, his native place, in the west of +Scotland; to furnish it, and to take his adopted daughter +to live with him as his housekeeper. All this was accordingly +done; a house, a very pretty little cottage, with garden +behind, and flower-plot in front, was taken, furnished, +and occupied by Mr Clydesdale and his protegée. Here, +for two years, they enjoyed all the happiness of which their +position and circumstances were capable—and it was a +happiness of a very enviable kind. No daughter, however +deep her love, could have conducted herself towards her +parent with more tenderness, or with more anxious solicitude +for his ease and comfort, than did Maria Clydesdale +towards her protector. Nor could any parent more sensibly +feel, or more gratefully mark the affectionate attentions of +a child, than did Captain Clydesdale those of his Maria.</p> + +<p>He doated on her, and to such a degree, that he never +felt happy when she was out of his sight.</p> + +<p>More than satisfied with her lot, Maria sought no other +scenes of enjoyment than those of her humble home; and +coveted no other happiness than what she found in contributing +to that of her benefactor.</p> + +<p>Thus happily, then, flew two delightful years over the old +man and his adopted child; and, wrapped up in their felicity, +they dreamt not of reverses. But reverses came; +Misfortune found her way even into their lonely retirement. +Within one week, Captain Clydesdale received intelligence +of the total loss of two vessels of which he was the principal +owner, and in which nearly all that he was worth was +invested. The blow was a severe and unexpected one, and +affected the old man deeply. Not on his own account, as he +told his Maria, with a tear standing in his eye, but on hers. +"I had hoped," he said, "to leave you in independence—an +humble one indeed, but more than sufficient to place +you far beyond the reach of want. But now——" And +the old man wrung his hands in exquisite agony of grief.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>Infinitely more distressed by the sight of her benefactor's +unhappiness than by the misfortune which occasioned it, +Maria flung her arms about his neck, and said everything +she could think of to assuage his grief and to reconcile him +to what had happened. Amongst other things, she told +him that the accomplishments which his generosity had +put her in possession were more than sufficient to secure her +an independence, or, at least, the means of living comfortably; +and that she would immediately make them available +for their common support.</p> + +<p>"There are a number of wealthy families around us, my +dear father," she said, "from which I have no doubt of +obtaining ample employment. I can teach music, drawing, +French, sewing, &c.; and will instantly make application to +the various quarters where I am likely to succeed in turning +them to account. Besides, father," she continued, "it +is probable that we shall soon have some great family in +Park House; and, in such case, I might calculate on obtaining +some employment there—perhaps enough of itself +to occupy all my time."</p> + +<p>To all this the old man made no reply—he could make +none. He merely took the amiable girl in his arms, embraced +her, and bade God bless her.</p> + +<p>Although the mention by Miss Clydesdale of the particular +residence above named appears a merely incidental circumstance, +and one, seemingly, of no great importance, it is +yet one, as the sequel will shew, so connected with our +story, that a particular or two regarding it may not be +deemed superfluous.</p> + +<p>Park House was a large, a magnificent mansion, with a +splendid estate attached, both of which were, at this moment, +in the market. The house was within a quarter of a +mile of Captain Clydesdale's cottage, and the reference in +the advertisements to those who wished to see the house +and grounds, was made to the captain, who, with his usual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +readiness to oblige, had undertaken this duty—a duty which +he had already discharged towards several visitors—none of +whom, however, had become purchasers. It was about a +week after the period last referred to—namely, that marked +by the circumstance of Mr Clydesdale's losses—that a gentleman's +carriage drove up to the little gate which conducted +to that worthy man's residence. From this carriage descended +a tall military-looking man, of apparently about +sixty years of age, who immediately advanced towards the +house. Captain Clydesdale, who saw him approaching, +hastened out to meet him. The latter, on seeing the captain, +bowed politely, and said—</p> + +<p>"Captain Clydesdale, I presume, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The same, at your service, sir," replied the honest +seaman.</p> + +<p>"You are referred, to, sir, I think, as the person to whom +those wishing to see Park House and grounds should +apply."</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Mr Clydesdale; "and will be happy to +shew them to you, sir."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the visitor. "It is precisely for that +purpose I have taken the liberty of calling on you. I have +some idea of purchasing the estate, if I find it to answer my +expectations."</p> + +<p>"Will you have the goodness to step into the house, sir, +for a few moments, and I will then be at your service?" said +Captain Clydesdale.</p> + +<p>The gentleman bowed acquiescence, and, conducted by +the former, walked into the house, and was ushered into a +little front parlour, in which Miss Clydesdale was at the +moment engaged in sewing. On the entrance of the visitor, +she rose, in some confusion, and was about to retire, +when the latter, entreating that he might not be the cause +of driving her away, she resumed her seat and her work. +Having also seated himself, the stranger now made some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +remarks of an ordinary character, by way of filling up the +interval occasioned by the absence of Captain Clydesdale. +Many words, however, had he not spoken, nor long had he +looked on the fair countenance of his companion, when he +seemed struck by something in her appearance which appeared +at once to interest and perplex him. From the moment +that this feeling took possession of the stranger, he +spoke no more, but continued gazing earnestly at the downcast +countenance of Maria Clydesdale; who, conscious of, +and abashed by the gaze, kept her face close over the work +in which she was engaged. From this awkward situation, +however, she was quickly relieved by the entrance of Captain +Clydesdale, who came to say that he was now ready to +accompany his visitor to Park House. The latter rose, +wished Miss Clydesdale a good morning; accompanying +the expressions, however, with another of those looks of interest +and perplexity with which he had been from time +to time contemplating her for the last five or ten minutes, +and followed the captain out of the apartment.</p> + +<p>"That interesting and very beautiful young lady whom I +saw at your house is your daughter, sir, I presume?" said +the stranger to Captain Clydesdale, as they proceeded together +towards Park House.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, she is: that is, I may <i>say</i> she is; for I have +brought her up since she was a child; and she has never, +at least, not since she was five or six years of age, had any +other protector than myself. She never knew her parents."</p> + +<p>"Ah! a foundling," said the gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but under rather extraordinary circumstances. I +found her amongst the savages of the coast of Guinea."</p> + +<p>"On the coast of Guinea!" exclaimed the stranger, in +much amazement. "Very extraordinary, indeed. What +are the circumstances, if I may inquire?"</p> + +<p>Captain Clydesdale related them as they are already before +the reader; not omitting to mention the fragment of shift,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +with the initials on it, and the locket with hair and miniature, +which he still carefully kept.</p> + +<p>On Captain Clydesdale concluding, the stranger suddenly +stopped short, and, looking at the former with a countenance +pale with emotion, said—"Good God, sir, what is this? +I am bewildered, confounded. I know not what to think. +It is possible. Yet it cannot be. My name, sir, is Elderslie, +General Elderslie. I have just returned from the East +Indies, where I have been for the last seventeen years. +Shortly after my going out, my wife and child, a daughter, +embarked on board the <i>Isabella</i> from Greenock, to join me +at Calcutta. The ship never reached her destination; she +was never more heard of; but there was a report that she +was seen, if not bespoken, off the Gold Coast; and from +there being no trace of her afterwards, it is more than probable +that she was wrecked on these shores; and, O God! +it is probable also, although I dare not allow myself to +believe it, that this girl is—is my child! Let us return, let +us return instantly," he added, with increasing agitation, +and now grasping Captain Clydesdale by the arm, "that I +may see this locket you speak of. I gave such a trinket to +my beloved, my unfortunate wife. The initials you mention +correspond exactly. My child's name was Julia Elderslie; +my own Christian name is James; and the same +initials are thus also on the rim of the locket."</p> + +<p>"It is precisely so!" said Captain Clydesdale, with a +degree of surprise and emotion not less intense than those +of the general's. "There <i>are</i> the initials of J. E. also on +the locket; and now that my <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'atttention'">attention</ins> is called to the +circumstance, there is a strong resemblance between the +miniature it encloses, and the person now before me."</p> + +<p>"Let us hasten to the house, for God's sake! captain," +said the general, with breathless eagerness, "and have this +matter cleared up, if possible."</p> + +<p>They returned to the house. Captain Clydesdale put the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +locket and the fragment of the little shift, which bore the +initials J. E., into the hands of the general. He glanced +at the latter, examined the former for an instant with +trembling hands, staggered backwards a pace or two, and +sank into a chair. It was the identical locket which, some +twenty years before, he had given to his wife. The miniature +it contained, introduced into the trinket at a subsequent +period, was his own likeness.</p> + +<p>"Bring me my child, Captain Clydesdale," said the +general, on recovering his composure; "for I can no longer +doubt that your adopted daughter is, indeed, my Julia."</p> + +<p>Captain Clydesdale left the apartment, and in a moment +returned leading in Julia Elderslie, who had hitherto been +kept in ignorance of what was passing. On her entrance +the general rushed towards her, took her by the left hand, +gently pushed the sleeve of her gown a little way up the +wrist, saw that the latter exhibited a small brown mole, +and exclaiming—"The proof is complete; you are—you are +my daughter, the image of your darling but ill-fated mother," +took her in his arms in a transport of joy.</p> + +<p>The feelings of Julia Elderslie, on this extraordinary +occasion, we need not describe, they will readily be conceived. +Neither need we detain the reader with any further +detail; seeing that, with the incident just mentioned, the +interest of our story terminates.</p> + +<p>It will be enough now, then, to say, that General Elderslie, +who had amassed a princely fortune, bought the estate +and mansion of Park House. That he took every opportunity, +and adopted every means he could think of, of shewing +his gratitude to Captain Clydesdale, for the generous +part he had acted towards his daughter. That this daughter +ultimately inherited his entire fortune; the general +having never married a second time; and that she finally +married into a family of high rank and extensive influence +in the west of Scotland.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ASSASSIN.</h2> + + +<p>At a late hour of an evening in the beginning of the year +1569, mine host of the Stag and Hounds—the principal +hostelry of Linlithgow at the period referred to—was suddenly +called from his liquor—the which liquor he was at +the moment enjoying with a few select friends who were +assembled in the public room of the house—to receive a +traveller who had just ridden up to the door.</p> + +<p>Much as Andrew Nimmo—for such was the name of +mine host—much, we say, as Andrew loved custom, it was +not without reluctance that he rose to leave his party to +attend the duties of his calling on the present occasion. +He would rather he had not been disturbed; for he was +in the middle of an exceedingly interesting story, when the +summons reached him, and was very unwilling to leave it +unfinished. But business must be attended to; its demands +are imperative; and no man, after all, could be more +sensible of this than mine host of the Stag and Hounds. +So, however reluctant, from his seat he rose, and, telling +his friends he would rejoin them presently, hastened out of +the apartment.</p> + +<p>On reaching the door, Andrew found the traveller had +dismounted. He was standing by the head of his horse—a +powerful black charger—and seemingly waiting for some +one to relieve him of the animal.</p> + +<p>This duty Andrew now performed; he took hold of the +bridle, after a word or two of welcome to his guest, and +asked whether he should put up the horse and supper him?</p> + +<p>"What else have I come here for?" replied the stranger, +gruffly. "Surely put him up; but I must see myself to +his being properly suppered and tended. If we expect a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +horse to do his duty, we must do our duty by him. So +lead the way, friend!"</p> + +<p>Damped by the uncourteous manner of the traveller, +Andrew made no further reply than a muttered acquiescence +in the justice of the remark just made, but instantly led +the horse away towards the stable; calling out, as he went, +on John Ramsay, the ostler, to come out with the buet—<i>i.e.</i> +lantern; for it was pitch dark, and a light, of course, +indispensable.</p> + +<p>With the scrutinizing habits of his calling, mine host of +the Stag and Hounds had been secretly but anxiously endeavouring +to make out his customer; to arrive at some +idea of his rank and profession, if he had any; but the +darkness of the night had prevented him from noting more +than that he was a man of tall stature, and, he thought, of +a singularly stern aspect.</p> + +<p>When Ramsay had brought the light, however, mine +host obtained farther and better opportunities of pursuing +his study of the stranger; and, besides having his former +remarks confirmed, now discovered that he had the appearance +of a person of some consideration, his dress being that +of a gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Fine beast that, sir!" adventured mine host, after a +silence of some time, during which the latter and his guest +had been standing together overlooking the operation of +John Ramsay as he fed and littered the animal, whose +noble proportions had elicited the remark. "Poorfu' beast, +sir," continued Mr Nimmo. "I think I hae never seen a +better."</p> + +<p>"Not often, friend, I daresay," replied the stranger, who +was standing erect, with folded arms, and carefully marking +every proceeding of the ostler. "For a long run and a +swift, he is the animal for a man to trust his life to."</p> + +<p>Mine host was startled a little by the turn given to this +remark: it smelt somewhat, he thought, of the highway; or,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +at any rate, seemed to carry with it a somewhat suspicious +sort of reference. He was, however, much too prudent a +man to exhibit any indication of an opinion so injurious +to the character of his guest, and, therefore, merely said +laughingly—</p> + +<p>"That he weel believed that if a man war in sic jeopardy +as required his trusting to horse legs for his life, he wad +be safe aneuch on sic a beast as that, especially if he got +onything o' a reasonable start."</p> + +<p>"Yes, give him ten minutes of a start, and there's not a +witch that ever rode over North Berwick Law on a broomstick +that'll throw salt on his tail, let alone a horse and +rider of flesh and blood!" replied the stranger, with a grim +smile. "<i>I'll</i> trust my life to him," he added, emphatically, +"and have no fears for the result."</p> + +<p>The tendence on the much prized animal which was the +subject of these remarks having now been completed, mine +host and his guest left the stable, and proceeded to the house, +which having entered, the former ushered the latter into the +public room, being the best in the house, and the only one +fit for the reception, as our worthy landlord deemed it, of a +personage of the stranger's apparent quality.</p> + +<p>The latter at first shewed some reluctance to enter an +apartment in which there was already so many people assembled; +for it was still occupied by the company formerly +alluded to; but, on being told by mine host that he should +have a table to himself, in a distant part of the room, if he +did not wish for society, he expressed himself reconciled to +the arrangement, and, walking into the apartment, took his +place at its upper end; then throwing himself down in a +chair, having previously laid aside his hat, cloak, and sword, +he commenced a vigilant but silent scrutiny of the party by +which the table that occupied the centre of the apartment +was surrounded. While he was thus employed, the landlord, +who had gone for a moment about some household<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +business, approached him to receive his orders regarding his +night's entertainment. The result of the conference on this +subject, was an order for supper, and for a measure of wine +to be brought in, in the meantime, until the former should +be prepared. The landlord bowed, and retired to execute +his commissions. In a minute after, a pewter measure of +claret, with a tall drinking glass, stood before the stranger. +He filled up the latter from the former, drank it off, and +again set himself to the task of scrutinizing the company +before him—a task to which he now added that of listening +to their conversation, which seemed to be of a nature to +interest him much, if one might judge from the earnest +intensity of his look, and the varying but strongly marked +expression of countenance with which he listened to the +various sentiments of the various speakers. The subject of +the conversation was the Regent Murray—his proceedings, +government, and character.</p> + +<p>"Aweel, folk may say what they like o' the Regent," said +one of the speakers, "but I think he's managing matters +very weel on the whole, and I wish we may never hae a +waur in his place. He's no a man to be trifled wi'; and if +he keeps a tight rein hand, he doesna o'erride the strength +o' his steed. He's a strict, justice-loving man; that I'll +say o' him."</p> + +<p>"Then ye say mair o' him than I wad, deacon," said another +of the party. "His strictness I grant ye; but as to +his justice, there was unco little o't, I think, in his treatment +o' his sister: his conduct to that poor woman has been +most unnatural, most savage, selfish, and unfeelin. That's +my opinion o't, and it's the opinion o' mony a ane besides +me."</p> + +<p>"Weel, weel; every are has his ain mind o' thae things, +Mr Clinkscales," replied the first speaker; "but for my part, +I'll ay ride the ford as I find it; that's my creed."</p> + +<p>"Has ony o' ye heard," here interposed another of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +party, "o' that cruel case o' Hamilton's o' Bothwellhaugh? +Ane o' the Queen's Hamilton's," added the querist.</p> + +<p>Some said they had, others that they had not. For the +benefit of the latter, the speaker explained. He said that +Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was one of those who had been +forfeited for the part he took at the battle of Langside. +That the person to whom his property was given by the +Regent, had turned Hamilton's wife out of her home, unclothed, +and in a wild and stormy night; and that the poor +woman had died in consequence of this cruel treatment.</p> + +<p>"An' what's Hamilton sayin to that?" inquired one of +the party.</p> + +<p>"They say he's in an awfu takin about it," replied the +first speaker, "an' threatenin vengeance, richt an' left; particularly +against the Regent."</p> + +<p>"I think little wonder o't," said another of the party. +"It's a shamefu business, and aneuch to mak ony man desperate."</p> + +<p>"But is't true?" here inquired another.</p> + +<p>The reply to this question came from a very unexpected +quarter: it came from the stranger, who, starting fiercely +to his feet, and stretching towards the company with a look +and gesture of great excitement, exclaimed—</p> + +<p>"Yes, gentlemen, true it is—true as God is in heaven—true +in every particular. An eternal monument to the +justice and clemency of the tyrant Murray. The wife of +Bothwellhaugh was turned naked out of her own house in +a cold and bitter night, and died of bodily suffering and a +broken heart. She did—she did. But"—and the stranger +ground his teeth and clenched his fist as he pronounced +the word—"there will be a day of count and reckoning. +The vengeance, the deadly vengeance of a ruined, deeply +injured, and desperate man, will yet overtake the ruthless, +remorseless tyrant."</p> + +<p>Having thus delivered himself, the stranger again retired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +to his former place, reseated himself, and relapsed into his +former silence; although the deep and laboured respiration +of recent excitement, which he could not subdue, might +still be distinctly heard even from the farthest end of the +apartment.</p> + +<p>It was some time after the stranger had retired to his +place before the company felt disposed to resume their conversation. +The incident which had just occurred, the +energy with which the stranger had spoken, and the extreme +excitement he had evinced, had had the effect of +throwing them all into that silent and reflective mood +which the sudden display of anything surprising or interesting +is so apt to produce even in our merriest and most +thoughtless moments.</p> + +<p>At length, however, the chill gradually wore off; the +conversation was resumed, at first in an under tone, and +by fits and starts; by and by it became more continuous; +and, finally, began to flow with all its original volume and +freedom. No more allusion, however, was made by any +of the party to the case of Bothwellhaugh. This was a +subject to which, after what had taken place, none seemed +to care about returning. Neither did the stranger evince +any desire to hold farther correspondence with the revellers; +but, on the contrary, appeared anxious to avoid it; nay, +one might almost have supposed that he regretted having +obtruded himself upon them at all, and that he could +have wished that what he had uttered in an unguarded +moment had remained unsaid. Be this as it may, however, +he sought no farther intercourse with the party, but +having hastily despatched the supper which was placed +before him, and finished his measure of wine, he glided +unobserved out of the apartment, and, conducted by his +host, retired to the sleeping chamber which had been appointed +for him.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, the stranger, who was sojourning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +at the Stag and Hounds, went out to transact, as he +told his landlord, some business in the town; saying, besides, +that he would not probably return till evening.</p> + +<p>Strongly impressed by the manner and appearance of +his guest, and not a little awed by his grim and fierce +aspect, he of the Stag and Hounds could not help following +him to the door, when he departed, and furtively +looking after him as he stalked down the main street of +the town; and much, as he looked at him, did he marvel +what sort of business it could be he was going about. +This, however, was a point on which the worthy man had +no means of enlightening himself, and he was therefore +obliged to be content with the privilege of muttering some +expressions of the wonder he felt.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the stranger had turned an angle of the +street, and disappeared—at least from the view of the landlord +of the Stag and Hounds. Not from ours; for we shall +follow and keep sight of him, and endeavour to make out +what he was so curious to know.</p> + +<p>Having passed about half-way down the main street of +the town, the former suddenly halted before a large unoccupied +house, with a balcony in front. It was a residence +of the Archbishop of St Andrew's. Standing in +front of this house, the stranger seemed to scan it with +earnest scrutiny. He looked from window to window with +the most cautious and deliberate vigilance, and appeared to +be noting carefully their various heights and positions. +While pursuing this inquiry, he might also have been frequently +observed glancing, from time to time, on either +side, as if to see that no one was marking the earnestness +of his examination of the building.</p> + +<p>Having apparently completed his survey of the front of +the house, the stranger passed round to the back part of the +building, and proceeded to the gate of the garden, which lay +behind, and through which only was the house accessible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +on that side. On reaching the gate, the stranger paused, +looked cautiously around him for a few seconds, when, +observing no one in sight, he hastily plunged his hand +beneath his cloak, drew out a key, applied it to the lock, +opened the gate, passed quickly in, and closed the door +cautiously behind him.</p> + +<p>With hurried step the intruder now proceeded to the +house, drew forth another key, inserted it into the lock of +the main door, turned it round, applied his foot to the +latter, pushed it open, and entered the building; having +previously, as in the former instance, secured the door behind +him. Ascending the stair in the inside of the house, +the mysterious visitant now commenced a careful examination +of the various apartments on the second floor; and at +length adopting one—a small room, with one window to +the front—made it the scene of his future operations. +These were, the laying on the floor a straw mattress, which +he dragged from another apartment, and hanging a piece +of black cloth—which he also found in the lumber-room, +from whence he had taken the mattress—against the wall +of the apartment opposite the window.</p> + +<p>Having completed these preparations, the secret workman +went up to the window, knelt down on the mattress, +and levelling a stick, or staff, which he found in the apartment, +as if it had been a musket, seemed to be trying where +he might be best situated for firing at an object without. +This experiment he tried repeatedly; shifting his position +from place to place, until he appeared to have hit upon one +that promised to suit his purpose.</p> + +<p>This ascertained, he rose from his knees; threw down +the staff; glanced around the apartment, as if to see that +all was right; descended the stair; came out of the house, +locking the door after him; crossed the garden, and passed +out at the gate, locking that also before he left, and with the +same precaution that he had used at entering; that is, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +around him to see that no one marked his proceedings.</p> + +<p>The guest of the Stag and Hounds now returned to his +inn, from which he had been absent about two hours. At +the door he was met by mine host, who, touching his cap, +asked if "his honour intended dining at his house, as it +was now about one of the clock," the general dinner-hour +of the period.</p> + +<p>Without noticing the inquiry of his landlord—</p> + +<p>"Be there any armourers in this town of yours, friend?" +he said, "where I could fit me with some weapons I want."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, there be one, and a main good one he is," +replied the other. "Tom Wilson, I warrant me, will fit +your honour with any weapon you can desire, from a pistolet +to a culverin; from a two-handed sword of six feet +long, to a dagger like a bodkin. And as for armour, you may +have anything, everything from head-piece to leg-splent; all +of the best material, and first-rate workmanship."</p> + +<p>"Where is this man Wilson's shop?" inquired the stranger.</p> + +<p>"See you, sir," replied the other; "see you yonder projecting +corner, beyond the palace entrance?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, three doors beyond that, you will find Wilson's +shop; and, if your honour chooses, you may use my +name with him, and he will not serve you the worse, or +the less reasonably, I warrant me. It is always a recommendation +to Tom to be a guest at the Stag and +Hounds."</p> + +<p>Without saying whether or not he would avail himself of +the privilege offered him of using his name, the mysterious +stranger hastened away in the direction pointed out to him, +and, in half a minute after, he was in the workshop of +Wilson the armourer.</p> + +<p>"Your pleasure, sir," said that person, advancing towards +his customer from an inner apartment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you a good store of fire-arms, friend?" inquired +the latter.</p> + +<p>"Pretty fair, sir; pretty fair," replied the armourer +"What description may you want?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I want a carbine, friend—something of a sure +piece—that will carry its ball well to the mark. None of +your bungling articles, that first hang fire, and then throw +their shot in every direction but the right one. I would +have a piece of good and certain execution."</p> + +<p>"Here, then, sir, here is your commodity," said the +armourer, disengaging a short and heavy gun from an arms'-rack +that occupied one side of the shop. "Here is a piece +that I can recommend. It will be the fault of the hand or +the eye when this barker misses its mark, I warrant ye. +I'd take in hand myself to smash an egg with it, with single +ball, at fifty yards distance. I have done it before now +with a worse gun."</p> + +<p>"I will not require any such feat from the piece as that, +friend," said Wilson's customer, drily; and having taken +the gun in his hand, he began to examine the lock, and to +see that the piece was otherwise in serviceable condition. +Being satisfied that it was, he demanded the price. It was +named. The money was tendered, and accepted, and the +stranger departed with his purchase; having, however, previously +received from the armourer, in lieu of luck's-penny, +although he offered to pay for them, half a dozen balls, and +a few charges of powder, to put the capability of the gun to +immediate trial. This, however, its new proprietor did not +think necessary; but, instead, returned to the archbishop's +house with it; and, after loading and priming it, placed it +in a corner of the apartment, which we have described him +as having put into so strange a state of preparation.</p> + +<p>Leaving the house with the same cautious and stealthy +step as before, the stranger again returned to his inn; but +it was now to leave it no more for the night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What news stirring, friend?" said he to the landlord.</p> + +<p>"Naething, sir," replied he, as he laid the cloth for his +dinner; "only that the Regent will pass through the town +to-morrow. I hear he'll be this way about twelve o'clock. +The magistrates, I understand, hae gotten notice to that +effect."</p> + +<p>"So," replied the stranger. "Then we shall have a sight."</p> + +<p>"A brave sight, sir, for he is to be accompanied by a +gallant cavalcade, and the trades of the town are to turn +out with banners and music to do him honour. It will be +a stirring day, sir, and I trust a good one for my poor house +here; for such doings make people as thirsty as so many +dry sponges."</p> + +<p>To these remarks the guest made no reply, but proceeded +with his dinner; the materials for which having, in the +meantime, been brought in, and placed on the table by another +attendant.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, the little town of Linlithgow +exhibited a scene of unusual bustle. Hosts of idlers were +seen gathered here and there, along the whole line of the +main street; and persons carrying trades' banners—as yet, +however, carefully rolled up—might be seen hurrying in all +directions to the various mustering-places of their crafts. +An occasional discharge of a culverin too; and, as the morning +advanced, a merry peal of bells heightened the promise +of some impending event of unusual occurrence. By and by, +these symptoms of public rejoicing became more and more +marked: the groups of idlers increased; the banners were +unfurled; the firing of the culverins became more frequent; +and the bells either really did ring, or appeared to ring +more furiously.</p> + +<p>It was when matters thus bespoke the near approach of +a crisis—which crisis, we may as well say at once, was the +advent of the Regent—that the mysterious lodger at the +Stag and Hounds ordered his horse to be brought to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +door. The horse was brought; the stranger settled his +bill; and, saying to his landlord that he would witness the +sight from horseback more advantageously than on foot, +mounted, and rode off in the direction of the approaching +cavalcade. In this direction, however, he did not ride far; +for, on gaining the eastern extremity of the town, he suddenly +wheeled round, and rode back in rear of the line of +street, until he reached the gate of the garden behind the +mansion of the Archbishop of St Andrew's, in which the +mysterious preparation before described had been made.</p> + +<p>Having arrived at the gate, he dismounted, opened it, +led in his horse, and fastened him to a tree close by. This +done, he removed the lintel, or cross-bar, over the gate. +The latter, contrary to his practice on former occasions, +he now left wide open, and proceeded towards the house, +into which he disappeared.</p> + +<p>In less than a quarter of an hour after, the Regent had +entered the town. He was on horseback, surrounded by a +number of friends, also mounted, and followed by a numerous +party of armed retainers.</p> + +<p>As the cavalcade penetrated into the town, the crowd, +which the occasion had assembled, gradually became more +and more dense, and the progress of the Regent and his +party consequently more slow; until, at length, they were +so packed in the narrow street, with the human wedges +that were forcing themselves around them, that it was with +great difficulty they could make any forward progress at all.</p> + +<p>Becoming impatient with the delay thus occasioned, +although carefully concealing this impatience, the Regent, +who was now directly opposite the house of the Archbishop +of St Andrew's, kept waving his hand to the crowd, as if +entreating them not to press so closely, that he might pass +on with more speed. The crowd endeavoured to comply +with the wishes of the Regent, but their efforts only added +to the confusion, without mending the matter in other respects.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +It was at this moment that all eyes were suddenly +directed towards the house of the Archbishop of St Andrew's, +in consequence of a shot being fired from one of the +windows. When these eyes looked an instant after again +towards the Regent, he was not to be seen; he had fallen +from his horse, mortally wounded: a ball had passed through +his body. It was Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh who had +fired the fatal shot.</p> + +<p>The friends and retainers of the Regent, seconded by the +town's people, flew to the house of the archbishop, and +endeavoured to force the door, in order to get at the murderer +but it had been barricaded by the wily assassin, and +resisted their efforts long enough to allow of his escaping +from the house, mounting his horse, and darting through +the garden gate at the top of his utmost speed. He was +pursued; but, thanks to his good steed, pursued in vain, +and subsequently escaped to France; having done a deed +which the moralist must condemn, but which cannot be +looked upon as altogether without palliation.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE PRISONER OF WAR.</h2> + + +<p>I had been preserved, through divine mercy, from one of +the most lingering and fearful deaths. I was rescued, I +scarce knew how, after the grim king of terror held me in +his embrace, and all hope had fled. As consciousness returned, +my heart thrilled at the recollection of the miseries +I had endured while floating, a helpless being, on the bosom +of the ocean.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> I shuddered to think, while I lay feeble as +an infant in the cabin of the vessel which was bearing me +to my home, and whose humane crew had been the means +of my deliverance, that I was still at the mercy of the winds +and waves; but kind nursing, aided by youth and a good +constitution, quickly brought strength; and I was enabled, +after a few days, to come upon deck. On my first attempt, +when my head rose above the deck as I ascended the companion-ladder, +and my eyes fell upon the boundless waste of +waters, a chill of horror shot through my frame. Like a lone +traveller who had suddenly met a lion in his path, I stood +paralysed; every nerve and muscle refused to act. I must +have fallen back into the cabin, had not my hand instinctively +clung to their hold for a few seconds. I could not +withdraw my fixed gaze, while all I had suffered rushed upon +me like a hideous dream. Slowly my faculties returned, when +I ascended the deck, where I sat for a few hours. Each +day after this brought additional strength; so that, before +we made soundings, I was as strong and cheerful as I had +ever been in my life. The weather was squally, and I assisted +the crew as much as was in my power; and, when not +so occupied, lay listlessly looking over the ship's bows that +bravely dashed aside the waves that rolled between me and</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> +<p>the home I now longed to reach, or walked the deck musing +upon the joy my return would impart to my over-indulgent +parents.</p> + +<p>As we neared the shores of Scotland, a circumstance occurred +that both greatly surprised and alarmed me. This +was a sudden change in the manners and temper of the crew. +Care and anxiety took the place of their wonted cheerfulness; +the joyous laugh, or snatch of song, no longer broke +the monotonous hissing of the waves that rippled along the +sides of the vessel, or the dull whistle of the wind through +the rigging. At the first appearance of every sail that hove +in sight, I could perceive every eye turned to it with a look +of alarm until she was made out. Fearful of giving offence +to my benefactors, I made no remark on the subject for +some time, although I felt disappointed at what I saw—attributing +it to cowardice; yet they were all stout, young, +resolute-looking fellows at other times. This scene of alarm, +and appearance of a wish to skulk below or conceal themselves, +had occurred twice in the course of the forenoon. +After the last ship we encountered was made out to be a +merchant-brig, I could no longer refrain from delivering my +sentiments of the greater number of the crew, but addressing +the mate, said—</p> + +<p>"Mr Ross, it is fortunate for us that these strange sails +have turned out to be British merchantmen. Had they +proved to be French privateers, we should have made +but a poor stand, I fear, notwithstanding our eight carronades."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Why, there is not a vessel that heaves in sight," said I, +"but the men look as if they wished themselves anywhere +but where they are."</p> + +<p>"Avast there, my man!" said he. "What! do you +mean to say that they would not stand by their guns while +there was a chance? Yes, they would, and long after; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +if you think otherwise, all I say is, you form opinions and +talk of what you know nothing about."</p> + +<p>Casting an angry look at me—the only one he ever gave—he +squirted his quid over the bulwarks, and was walking +away, when I stopped him.</p> + +<p>"If I have given you offence, Mr Ross, nothing was +farther from my intention. I cannot but observe the alarm +caused by every sail that heaves in sight until she is made +out to be a friend. Now, the little time I was at sea, before +I fell overboard and was saved by you, every sail that +hove in sight made the hearts of all on board leap for +joy."</p> + +<p>"Ho! ho!" and he laughed aloud. "Are you on that +tack, my messmate? You are quite out in your reckoning, +and becalmed in a fog; but I shall soon blow it away. +There is not a man on board with whom I would not go +into action with the fullest reliance upon his courage; and, +were we to meet a French privateer, you would quickly see +such a change as would satisfy you that my confidence is +not misplaced. Every face, that the moment before expressed +anxiety and alarm, would brighten up with joy; every man +would stand to his gun as cheerfully as to the helm. It +is their liberty the poor fellows are afraid of being deprived +of by our own men-of-war—the liberty to toil for their +parents or wives where they can get better wages than the +Government allows. Danger, in any form, they meet undaunted +when duty calls; it is for their countrymen they +quail. Were the smallest sloop-of-war in the British navy +to heave in sight, and a boat put off from her with a boy +of a midshipman and eight or ten men, every one on board, +who had not a protection, would shake in his shoes at +her approach; yet, against an enemy, every man would +stand to his gun until his ship was blown out of the water."</p> + +<p>A new and painful feeling came over me as he spoke. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +was myself an entered seaman, and, of course, liable to impressment; +but the idea of being taken had never occurred +to me. I wondered that it had not, after the scenes I had +witnessed in the frigate; but my longing for home had +entirely engrossed my mind. I was, indeed, home-sick, and +weary of the sea. From this moment, no one on board felt +more alarm than I did at the sight of a top-royal rising out +of the distant waters. My feelings were near akin to those of +a felon in concealment.</p> + +<p>At length we reached the Moray Firth, in the evening, +and arrangements were made for as many of the crew as +could be spared to be landed at Cromarty, where the vessel +was to put in. This was to avoid the danger of impressment +in the Firth of Forth. I gave the captain an order +upon my father for my passage, and the expense he had +been at on my account, as I was to leave, with the others in +the boat, as soon as we were off the town, which we hoped +to reach in the morning. My anxiety was so great that I +had kept the deck since nightfall. It was intensely dark; +nothing broke the gloom but the flashes of light that gleamed +for a moment upon the waves, as they rippled along the +sides of the vessel, and the dull rays of the binnacle-lamp +before the man at the helm. Bell after bell was struck, still +I stood at the bows, leaning upon the bowsprit, unmindful +of the chill wind from under the foretopsail, anxiously +watching for the first tints of dawn. Tediously as the +night wore on, I thought, when morning dawned, it had +fled far too fast.</p> + +<p>The dark clouds began at length to melt away in the +east, and the distant mountain-tops to rise like grey clouds +above the darkness that still hid the shores from our view. +Gradually the whole face of nature began to emerge from the +morning mists. We were just off the Sutors of Cromarty. +My heart leapt for joy at the near prospect of being once +more on firm ground, and so near home. Several of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +crew had now joined me, and all eyes were directed to the +entrance of the bay. Only a few minutes had elapsed in +this pleasing hope—for it was still dullish on the horizon—when +the report of a gun from seaward of us, so near that I +thought it was alongside, made us start and look round. +Each of us seemed as if we had been turned into stone by +the alarming sound; while, so sudden was the revulsion of +feeling, in my own case, that my heart almost ceased to +beat. There, not half-a-league to windward of us, lay a +frigate, with her sails shaking in the wind, and a boat, +well-manned, with an officer in her stern, putting off from her.</p> + +<p>So completely were we overcome by the sudden appearance +of this dreaded object, which seemed to emerge from +darkness, as the sun's first rays fell upon and whitened her +sails, that we stood incapable of thought or action. The +well-manned barge was carried, by the faint breeze and +impetus of her oars, almost as swift as a gull on the wing. +The report of the gun brought the captain and mate upon +deck before we had recovered from our stupor.</p> + +<p>"Bear a hand, men!" cried Ross, as he sprung upon +deck. "Man the tacklefalls! clear the boat! and give them +a run for it at least."</p> + +<p>Roused by his voice, every nerve was strained, the boat +lowered, and we in her, ready to push off, when the captain +called over the side—</p> + +<p>"My lads, do as you think for the best; but it is of no +use to try. The frigate's boat will be under our stern ere +you can gain way."</p> + +<p>I stood in the act of pushing off, when the object we +were going to strain every nerve to avoid swept round the +stern, and grappled us. We hopelessly threw our oars +upon the thwarts, and prepared to reascend the vessel, to +settle with the captain and bring away our chests. As for +myself, I had no call to leave the boat. All I possessed in +the world was upon my person, and half-a-guinea given me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +by the captain to carry me home. The other three were +getting their bags and chests ready to lower into the boat, +having got their wages from the captain, when he called me +to come on deck. I obeyed; when he said to the midshipman +in command of the boat—</p> + +<p>"Sir, to prevent any unpleasant consequences arising to +this poor fellow, Elder, here, I shall let you know how he +came on board of us. He belonged to the <i>Latona</i>, and is +no deserter, I assure you. Ross, bring here our log-book, +and satisfy the gentleman if he wishes." Ross obeyed; and +having examined it, the captain told the wretched state in +which I had been picked up, and the way in which I had +accounted to him for the accident. During the recital, he +looked hard at me, no muscle of his face indicating either +pity or surprise. When the captain ceased to speak, he only +said—</p> + +<p>"Well, my lad, you have for once had a narrow escape—you +must hold better on in future. I shall report to the +captain, and get the D from before your name. Tumble +into the boat, my lads. Good day, captain." And, in a +few minutes afterwards, I was on board the <i>Edgar</i>, seventy-four, +and standing westwards for the Firth of Forth.</p> + +<p>It was strange the change that came over the impressed +men, when there was no longer any hope of escape. Like +true seamen, they bent to the circumstance they could not +remedy, and were, as soon as they got on board, as much at +home, and more cheerful, than they had been for many days +before. As for myself, I took it much to heart, and was +very melancholy when we entered the Firth and stood up to +the roadstead. I could hardly restrain my feelings when +the city of Edinburgh came in sight, and when I thought +of the short distance in miles that divided me from my +parents and home—that home I had left so foolishly in +the hopes of being back at the conclusion of the war, which +I now found was raging more furiously, if possible, than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +when I left, and with much less prospect of its termination. +I would stand for hours gazing upon the White Craig, the +eastern extremity of the Pentland Hills, and wish I was +upon it, until my eyes were suffused with tears. I begged +hard for the first lieutenant to give me leave to go on shore, +if only for eight-and-forty hours, to visit my parents; but +he refused my request, fearful of my not returning. Several +of the hands on board, natives of Edinburgh, who had +been long in the <i>Edgar</i>, obtained leave. With one of them +I sent a letter to my father, who came the following day. +It was a meeting of sorrow, not unmixed with upbraidings, +on his part, for what I had done; but we parted with +regret—he to do what he could to obtain my discharge, I +under promise not to act so precipitately in future, if I was +once more a free agent. What steps were taken I know +not, for next morning we received orders to sail for the +Nore. We had many faces on board that looked as long as +my own, for there were still several who had obtained promise +of leave whose turn had not come round. Wallace, +one of the mess I was in, had not been in his native city +for ten years, having been all that time voluntarily on board +of men-of-war, either at home or on foreign stations. He +was to have had two days' leave the very morning we +sailed, and had doomed ten gold guineas, which he had +long kept for such purpose, to be expended in a blow-out +in Edinburgh, among his relations and friends. When +the boatswain piped to weigh anchor, Wallace, who was +captain of the foretop, ran to his berth, opened his chest, +took out his long-hoarded store, and came on deck with it +in his hand. His looks bespoke rage and disappointment, +bordering upon insanity. He gazed upon the distant city +that shone upon the gently swelling hills glancing back the +sun's rays, then at the purse of gold in his hand. He +seemed incapable of speech. A bitter smile curled his +lip, bespeaking the most intense scorn. I looked on, wondering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +what he meant to do. It was but the scene of a +minute. Suddenly raising his hand, he threw the purse +and gold over the side with all his force, exclaiming:—"Go, +vile trash! what use have I for you now? The first +action may lay me low!" Then, as if relieved from some +oppressive load, he mounted the rattlings to his duty with +a smile of satisfaction; and we bore away for the Nore, +where I was draughted on board the <i>Repulse</i>, sixty-four, +and departed upon a cruise along the coast of Brittany; at +times lying off Brest harbour, and at others, standing along +the coast in search of the enemy. Employed in this monotonous +duty, month followed month, and year after year +passed away.</p> + +<p>It was now the year 1799. The century was drawing +to a close; but the interminable war seemed only commencing. +I had become almost callous to my fate. We +were standing along, under a steady breeze, as close in +shore as we could with safety to the vessel. It was the +dog-watch; and I had only been a short time turned in +when our good ship struck upon some sunken rocks with +such force that I thought she had gone to pieces. Every +one in a moment turned out. The night was as dark as +pitch, and the sea breaking over us, while we lay hard and +fast. Everything was done to lighten her in vain. She +was making water very fast, in spite of all our exertions at +the pumps. Still there was not the smallest confusion on +board. Our discipline was as strict, and our officers as +promptly obeyed, as they were before our accident. As the +tide rose, the wind shifted, and blew a gale right upon the +shore, causing the ship to beat violently. Day at length +dawned, and there, not one hundred fathoms from our deck, +lay a rocky and desolate-looking shore. We had been +forced over a reef of sunken rocks that were not in our +charts; and, during the darkness, as was supposed, had +been carried in-shore by some current; but, however it had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +happened, there we were, in a serious scrape, the sea breaking +over our decks, and our hold full of water.</p> + +<p>Soon after daybreak we could perceive the peasantry +crowding down to the water's edge. Everything had been +done that skill and resolution could accomplish, to save the +vessel, but in vain. We had nothing before our eyes but +instant death. The sea ran so high that no boat could live +for a moment in the broken water between us and the shore. +The French peasantry were making no effort for our safety, +but running about and looking on our deplorable situation, +with apparently no other feeling than that of curiosity. At +this time, James Paterson, an Edinburgh lad, volunteered +to make the attempt to swim to the shore with a log-line, +and fearlessly let himself over the side. It was, to all appearance, +a hopeless attempt; for every one felt assured +that he would be beat to death against the rocks that lined +the beach, on which the waves were beating with great +fury.</p> + +<p>It was a period of fearful suspense; yet, dreadful as our +situation was, there was not the least unnecessary noise on +board. All was prompt attention and obedience. The +weather was extremely cold, and the sea, at times, making +a complete breach over the ship, which we expected every +moment to go to pieces. As for myself, I meant to stow +below and perish with her, rather than to float about, +bruised and maimed, and drown at last. One half of +the crew were only dressed in their shirts and trousers, +without shoes or stockings, as they had leaped from their +hammocks. When she struck, we had no leisure to put on +more than our trousers. Thus we stood, holding on by the +nettings, or anything we could lay hold of, to prevent our +being washed off the decks, with our eyes anxiously watching +the progress of the brave Paterson, who swam like an otter, +the boatswain and his mates serving out the line to him. +We saw him near the rocks, and the people making signs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +to him. This was the point of greatest danger, but, by the +aid of the peasants, he surmounted it.</p> + +<p>Those on the beach gave a shout, which we replied to +from the deck. A hawser was made fast to the line, and +secured on shore. It was not until now that we began to +hope; and with this hope arose an anxiety on the part of +every one to save what they could. I strove to reach my +chest, in which were a pair of new shoes and five guineas, +but my efforts, like those of the others, were vain; our +under decks were flooded several inches, and everything was +loose and knocking about in the most furious manner, from +the rolling and pitching of the vessel upon the rocks, so +that I was but too happy to reach the decks without being +crushed to death. All I regretted was my shoes; the money +I cared not for, and do not think I would have taken it, +as we expected to be plundered as soon as we got to the +beach.</p> + +<p>After a great deal of fatigue, we all got safe to land, and +now the plundering began. There were no regular soldiers +on the spot, but a great many of the peasantry had firelocks +and bayonets, and stood over us, stripping those of the men, +who had them, of their jackets and hats. At first, we were +disposed to resist, but soon found it to be of no use. One +of the fellows seized the chain of the watch belonging to one +of our men, and was in the act of pulling it from the pocket, +when the owner, Jack Smith, struck him to the ground with +a blow of his fist. The next moment poor Smith lay a lifeless +corpse upon the sand, felled by a stroke from the butt +end of a musket.</p> + +<p>There was no one present who seemed to have or who +assumed any authority, to whom our officers might appeal +for protection; they were not more respected than the men; +all were searched and robbed as soon as they arrived from +the wreck. Poor Smith's fate taught us submission, even +while our bosoms burned with a desire for vengeance. One<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +of my messmates said aloud—"I would cheerfully stand +before the muzzle of one of the old <i>Repulse's</i> thirty-twos, +were she charged to the mouth with grape well laid, to +sweep these French robbers from the face of the earth." As +for myself, they took nothing from me. I had twopence in +the pocket of my trousers; when I saw what was going on, +I took it out and held it in my hand while they searched +me. I more than once thought they were going to strip me +of my nether garments, and give me in exchange a pair of +their own gun-mouthed rags, which would scarcely have +reached my knees; for several of them looked at them as if +they felt inclined to make the exchange; but I escaped, and +felt thankful.</p> + +<p>We stood for several hours shivering upon the beach +without food, fire, or water, while the plunderers were busy +picking up anything that drifted ashore, but still keeping a +strict watch over us; at length, the chief magistrate of a +neighbouring small town arrived, and to him our officers +complained of the usage we had received. He only shook +his head, and shrugged his shoulders, when the body of +Smith was pointed out to him. What could we do? A +grave was dug for him on the spot where he was murdered, +and we were marched off into the interior. It was well on +in the afternoon before we reached the place where we were to +halt. It was a small poverty-stricken-like town, with an old +ruinous church and churchyard, surrounded by high walls, +with an iron gate close by. Into this chill, desolate place, +we were crowded by the soldiers, the gate locked upon us, and +sentinels placed around the building. Here we remained until +the evening, when there was served out to every man a +small loaf, black as mud; yet, black as it was, I never +ate a sweeter morsel; for neither I nor any of my companions +had tasted any food since the evening before.</p> + +<p>But how shall I express the horror we felt when we +found we were to remain where we were, in this old, ruined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +charnel-house of a church, which could scarcely contain us +all, unless we stood close together. To lie down was out +of the question; and, although we could, there were neither +straw, blankets, nor covering of any kind, to screen us from +the cold. We implored in vain to be removed; but these +privations, bad as they were, did not annoy us so much as +the idea of spending the long dark night in such a miserable +place. By far the greater number of us believed as firmly +in the reality of ghosts as we did in our own existence; and, +of all places in the world, a church and churchyard, from +time immemorial, have been their favourite haunts, and +the terror of all who believe in their reality—even those who +affect to disbelieve in the visits of spirits to this earth, feel +sensations which they would not choose to own, when in a +churchyard, in a dark night, with gravestones and crumbling +human bones around them. Of all men seamen are the +most superstitious, and give the most ready credence to +ghost stories. The unmanning feeling of fear, that had not +touched a single heart in the extremity of our danger from +the storm, was now strongly marked in every face, exaggerated +by a horror of we knew not what. Fear is contagious—we +huddled together, and peered fearfully around, expecting +every moment to see some appalling vision or hear some +dreadful sound. Our sense of hearing was painfully acute—the +smallest noise made us start; but our feelings were +too much racked to remain long at the same intensity—they +gradually became more obtuse as the night wore on, until +we at length began to entertain each other with fearful +stories of ghosts; feeling a strange satisfaction in increasing +the gloomy excitement under which we laboured. Had any +of us begun a humorous story, with the view of diverting +our thoughts from their present bent, and the circumstances +we were in, I am certain he would have been silenced in no +gentle manner.</p> + +<p>We might have been about two hours or less in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +state, in the most intense darkness—our own whispers being +all that we could recognise of each other, even although in +contact—when a low pleasant murmur suddenly fell upon +our ears: It was the voice of Dick Bates, who, having either +been requested, or, moved by his present situation, had, of +his own accord, commenced singing in an under tone his +favourite ballad of "Hozier's Ghost." Now, Dick was the +best singer in the whole crew, with a voice like a singing +bird; it was at this moment so low that, had it been broad +daylight, he would have appeared only to have been breathing +hard; yet it was at this time distinctly heard by all, and +made our flesh creep upon our bones, although a strange +kind of pleasure was mingled with the feeling. We scarcely +breathed when he came to the lines—</p> + +<div style="padding-left:25%"> +"With three thousand ghosts beside him,<br /> +And in groans did Vernon hail—<br /> +Heed, O heed my fatal story,<br /> +I am Hozier's injured Ghost."<br /> +</div> + +<p>I thought the whole was present before me, and I could see +the scene the poet described, and shuddered when he breathed +forth—</p> + +<div style="padding-left:25%"> +"See these ghastly spectres sweeping<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mournful o'er this hated wave,</span><br /> +Whose pale cheeks are stained with weeping—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These were English captains brave.</span><br /> +<br /> +"See these numbers pale and horrid!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These were once my seamen bold.</span><br /> +Lo! each hangs his drooping forehead<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While his mournful tale is told."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>I believe there was not a man in the old church who did +not think he saw the ghastly train of spectres flitting before +his eyes, and who did not feel every nerve thrill, and every +hair of his head stand on end. Many were the tales of +superstition and of terror related, until overpowered nature +sank into sleep; but I have since often reflected that, of all +the accounts of fearful sights I heard, they were all related<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +at second hand, from the authority of others. No one +asserted they themselves had ever seen anything out of +the ordinary course of nature except Bob Nelson, and his +was calculated to lead a more prejudiced observer astray. It +was as follows—</p> + +<p>"It was during a voyage I made to New York from +Greenock, in the brig <i>Cochrane</i>, that I once saw, with my +own eyes, a strange sight, such as I hope never to witness +again. Our cargo consisted of dry goods, and we had +several emigrants as passengers; in particular, a family of +six in the cabin, the husband and wife, with four children; +they were wealthy, and had sold off their farm stock to purchase +land, and settle somewhere in America. When they +came on board at the quay of Greenock, they were accompanied +by a great many relations and friends, who took a +most affectionate leave of them; in particular one old woman, +the mother of the emigrant's wife. Her wailings were +most pitiable; she wrung her hands, and stood as if rooted +to our decks. I heard her say more than once—</p> + +<p>"'Mary, I feel I shall never see you more, nor these +lovely babes. O why will you leave your aged mother to +go mourning to her grave?'</p> + +<p>"Her daughter looked more like one dead than alive, as +she lay sobbing upon the breast of her husband, her mother +holding one of her hands between both of her's. Poor soul, +she looked as if her heart was breaking, but spoke not; at +length, the husband said—</p> + +<p>"'O woman, have you no feeling for your daughter?'</p> + +<p>"The old woman's grief seemed, all at once, turned into +rage: she let her daughter's hand drop, and, raising her +hands, cursed him for depriving her of her daughter; concluding +with—</p> + +<p>"'But, James, remember what I say; dead or alive, I +shall yet see my Mary.'</p> + +<p>"The poor young woman was carried below in a faint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +and the old dame was conveyed from the deck by the friends, +for we were by this time cast loose, and leaving our berth. +For several days I saw nothing of the farmer's family, as +they were very sick; but the children had now begun to +play about the deck, and their father would leave the cabin +for a short time, once or twice a-day, for his wife remained +very ill, and confined to her bed. The haglike appearance +of the old woman, in her rage, had made a great impression +on me, and had evidently sunk the spirits of the young +people; for I often saw, when the husband came on deck, +that he was much dejected. I felt it strange that the +figure of the old woman often occurred to my mind when I +looked at him; and I several times dreamed I saw her in +my sleep, as I had seen her in Greenock, but her appearance +was more pale and hideous, and had so great an effect +upon me, that I always awoke in an agony, and cursed her +from my heart.</p> + +<p>"About mid-passage we met with westerly gales and rough +weather, which caused the passengers to keep below for +several days, and retarded our passage much. It was blowing +very hard. It was my turn at the wheel. In the midwatch +we had occasional showers. The clouds were scudding +along in immense bodies over the face of the moon, +which was just at the full, so that we had, at times, bright +moonlight for a minute or two, then gloom; but the night +was not dark. I might have been at the wheel half my time +or so. My eye was fixed ahead to watch the set of the +waves, save when I glanced to the compass. I thought I +saw something upon the bowsprit in the gloom that was +not there a moment before. I looked aloft to see for a +break in the clouds that the moon might shew me more distinctly +what it was. I looked ahead again, and there it still +was, but nearer the bows of the vessel. Still I could not +make out what it was. Soon a burst of moonlight shone +forth, and I saw it resembled a human figure, but whether<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +man or woman I could not tell, for the moon was as suddenly +obscured as it had shone forth. I felt very queer; +being certain it was none of the crew—for the whole watch +was aft at the time—and I was sure that all the passengers +were below, and no one had come on deck since the watch +had been changed. I looked at the spot where I had seen +it, and it was gone. I felt the greatest inclination to tell +what I had seen; but the fear of being laughed at, made me +say nothing of it at this time; I, however, never wished so +much for anything in my life as that my spell at the wheel +was over, and the watch passed. When, at length, I was +released, I crept to the foxa, and tumbled into my hammock, +but could not close an eye for thinking of what I had seen.</p> + +<p>"Well, my mates, I was then, as I am now, in a pretty +mess, and wished myself as heartily out of the <i>Cochrane</i> as +we all do ourselves out of this old foundered hulk of a +church. I was fairly aground with fear, and felt all of a +tremble for the nights I must pass on board before we +reached New York, where I was determined to leave the +brig if I saw any more such sights. For a few days the +gale continued, sometimes blowing very hard, at others +more moderate, but nothing uncommon occurred. At length +it abated, and we had pleasant weather. I began to think +I had been deceived, and was glad I had not spoken of +what I had seen to any of the crew. It was the afternoon, +towards evening. I was again at the wheel. The sun +was setting in a bed of clouds, as gaily coloured as a ship +rejoicing—the colours of all nations floating aloft, from the +point of her bowsprit to the end of her jib-boom. The +four children were playing upon deck, laughing and full of +joy at being once more relieved from their long confinement +in the cabin. I looked at their innocent gambols and at +the beautiful sky by turns, as much as my duty would +allow, and felt more happy than I had done since we sailed. +It was so pleasant to look ahead; for every face on deck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +wore a pleasing and happy aspect. I looked again at the +children's gambols; but I almost dropped at the wheel. +My hands and limbs refused to do their office. There, before +me, close by the children, stood the exact representation +of the old woman—so stern, so unearthly was her look, +that I cannot express it; but she was pale as the foam on +the crest of a wave. I could not call out. I had no +power either to move tongue or limb. The yawing of the +vessel called the attention of the mate to me, who sung out +to hold her steady. I heard him, but could not obey. +My whole faculties were engrossed by the fearful vision. +My eyes appeared as if they would have started out of my +head. One of the crew seized the wheel. All looked at +me with astonishment. I stood rivetted to the spot, pointing +to where the spectre stood; but no one saw anything +but myself. The captain was below in the cabin, with the +farmer and his wife—the latter of whom was known to all +the crew to be very ill. As I looked to the unearthly figure, +attracted by a power I could not resist, the children continued +their play. The features of the old woman, I thought, +relaxed, and a sadness came over them, but it was of unearthly +expression. The figure glided from the children to +the cabin-companion, and disappeared below, when it as +suddenly came again upon deck, accompanied by the farmer's +wife, pale and wasted. Both gazed upon the children. +The young woman appeared to wring her hands in great +distress, as I had seen her before she was carried below; +but the old woman hurried her over the side of the brig, +and I saw no more of them. When they disappeared, my +faculties returned. I trembled as if I had been in an ague, +and the cold sweat stood in large drops upon my forehead. +The mate and crew thought that I had been in a fit, until I +told them what I had seen. They looked rather serious, +but were much inclined to laugh at me. The mate began +to jaw me a little on my fancies. All had passed in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +minute or two. Scarce had the mate spoken a dozen of +words, when the captain hurried upon deck, much affected, +and called to one of the female steerage passengers to go +instantly to the cabin and assist, as he feared the farmer's +wife was dead. The mate ceased to speak, and the rest of +the crew looked as amazed as I did at the strange occurrence. +The captain came to us. When he heard my strange +story, he shook his head, and only said it was a remarkable +occurrence; but I had been deceived by some illusion, and +commanded us not to speak of it, for distressing the poor +husband. We resolved to obey him, as we were by this +time nearly in with the land, and expected to make it next +day, which we did; and the poor farmer was helped ashore, +almost as death-like as the body of his wife, which was +buried in New York. I sailed several trips afterwards in +the <i>Cochrane</i>, but never saw anything out of the common +afterwards in her or anywhere else."</p> + +<p>The first rays of the rising sun shone upon us all sound +asleep, as quiet and undisturbed as if we had passed the +night under the roofs of our fathers' houses; but I was +cold, stiff, and sore when I awoke. I had passed the night +upon a flat gravestone outside of the church, for want of +room within, without any covering but my shirt and trousers—all +I had saved from the wreck. There was not a character +engraved on the stone that was not as distinctly +marked on my body. It was of no use grumbling or being +cast down—we were fairly adrift, and must go with the +current. It was now that the buoyancy of a sailor's mind +burst forth. The old church and churchyard resounded +with shouts and laughter, that made the French sentinels +think we had all gone mad. Some were busy at leap-frog, +others were pursuing each other among the ruins and tomb-stones—all +were in active exertion for the sake of warmth, +and to beguile the time; while the French gathered outside +wherever they could obtain a sight of us, and looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +on in amazement at our frolics. I am certain they were not +without fear for us; for a few of the lads had contrived to +clamber to the top of the ruins; and were amusing themselves +by antics, at the hazard of their necks, and throwing +small pieces of lime at us below. The officer in command +called to them to come down; but they knew not what he +said. Some of them cried out, in answer to his call—"Speak +like a Christian if you want us to understand you, +and don't wow like a dog." At this moment, Nick Williams, +one of our maintop men, had scaled the highest point +of the walls, and had, at the risk of his life, contrived to +perch himself upon the crumbling stone, and was huzzaing +most vociferously. It was a daring and foolhardy feat. A +shout of admiration rose from the outside of the walls, when +a real British cheer answered it from within. Whether the +officer was enraged at the apparent defiance and disobedience +to his commands, I know not, but several muskets +were fired through the rails of the gate, and the balls recoiled +from the walls. A shout of rage burst from us; and a serious +conflict was only prevented by the prudence of the petty +officers who were among us; for the enraged seamen had +begun to collect stones from the base of the ruined walls to +hurl at the dastardly guards, who were shouting, <i>"Vive la +Nation!" "Vive la Republique!"</i> Our boatswain, who was +a cool and resolute old tar, seeing that the storm was still +on the verge of bursting out—for we looked upon their cries +as insulting as their balls—by a happy thought, struck up +the national air, "God save the King," which we sung with +an enthusiasm and strength of lungs never, I am certain, +surpassed before or since. If it had no melody, it had a +tone and sound equivalent to both. Many who still held +the stones in their hands, which they had lifted to hurl at +the guards, struck them together like cymbals, in regular +time, to increase the noise. The effect was most exhilarating +and produced the desired effect of turning our angry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +feeling into good-humour. So pleased were we, that we +gave them "Rule Britannia" in the same style, until we +forgot, in our enthusiasm, that we were prisoners, hungry, +cold, and naked. Scarce had the last loud cadence died +away, when the gate was thrown open, and a miserable +allowance of the same black bread was served out to +us, with plenty of water, and the gate once more shut +against us.</p> + +<p>It was very strange that, among more than five hundred +of us, not one knew a word of French, and there were none +of those who entered the enclosure could speak a word of +English, so that we knew not what those who had the +power over us meant to do. We conjectured that they intended +to keep us where we were until we were exchanged; +and had already begun to canvass the possibility of breaking +out of the hated church and yard, and making a bold push +for our liberty, in the following night, by overpowering our +guards, seizing their arms, and passing along the coast, +until we reached some of the small ports, and making +prizes of all the vessels in it, and setting sail for England. +A council was actually deliberating in the church, composed +of the petty officers and a few of our picked hands, when +our attention was roused by the sound of martial music +approaching the churchyard, where it halted, and we were +soon after turned out, and numbered to the officer in +command.</p> + +<p>The party who had just arrived consisted of two companies +of soldiers of the line, regularly clothed and armed, as +the French troops were; while those under whose charge +we had been were only the armed peasantry of the neighbourhood. +We hoped the change would be for our advantage. +We saw at once we were going to be conveyed into the +interior. Go where we must, we felt we could not be worse +fed, lodged, or used than we had been. No harsh word +was used to us by the regular troops; and, before we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +been a few hours on the road, we understood each other well +enough by dumb show, and marched on in good humour; +we walking in the middle of them like a drove of bullocks, +as frolicsome as children, singing, laughing, and putting +practical jokes upon each other, to beguile the way. Scarce +had we travelled a couple of miles, until my bare feet became +sore from the small stones and bruises; yet I limped +on in the best manner I could, and as cheerfully as possible. +I was in the front as we were on the point of entering +a village; the soldiers in file enclosing us on either side, +and bringing up the rear, so that we could not walk faster +or slower than they chose. A few hundred yards from the +entrance of the village, those in front turned round, and +pointing to the fowls of various kinds that were feeding on +the highway before us, made signs which we readily understood, +and nodded significantly; they then drew to each +side of the road, and we behind them, leaving a gap in the +middle of the way like the prongs of a fork closed at the +base. The ducks, hens, and other fowls became alarmed as +we came close upon them, and ran for shelter to the vacant +space in the middle, when the front closed, and all were +secured by those in the centre; the poor people, their +owners, calling in vain for restitution of their property. +The soldiers would not allow them to come within their +ranks; and, at night, when we stopped, the former procured +wood for us to dress the stolen fowls, after having received +their proportion. This, I confess, was a species of robbery; +but we were starved by the allowance of government, and +we were in an enemy's country, who had plundered the +shipwrecked mariner cast upon their shores. We thought, +therefore, although, of course, the reasoning was wrong, that, +in appropriating whatever we could lay hands upon, we +were merely making fair and just reprisals for the losses we +had sustained at the hands of our captors; but, the truth is, +we troubled ourselves very little about the right or wrong of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +the matter, for we were lodged either in large empty barns, +or ruined churches, all the way to Rennes, and could, from +hunger, have eaten a jackass when we were allowed to +rest for the night. Even yet, I remember the relish a small +piece of a roast pig or fowl had, without either bread or salt, +at this time, for we were not scrupulous what we lifted that +would eat, if we could carry it. In one village, five pigs +disappeared in this manner, and only the great weight of +the parent prevented her following them. At the time, it +had not the appearance of theft; there was so much fun in it +that it resembled a great hunt, for every eye was in quest of +game, and all was done so quietly and dexterously that there +was not the least confusion or noise. We closed so rapidly +that the prey had no means of escape, nor room to move +until it was despatched; yet the people, as we passed, were +often very kind to us, so far as was in their power, for they +appeared to be miserably poor. When we reached Rennes +my feet were so sore, swelled, and cut, that I walked with +great pain; numbers of us were in the same situation. We +did not pass straight through the town, but were halted, for +some time, in the market-place, while the inhabitants came +in crowds to gaze at the English prisoners; and a miserable +sight we were. We might have been here about half an +hour, when a beautiful young lady came to where we were, +with a young woman behind her carrying a large basket +filled with shoes. I thought she had come to sell them, as +so many were barefoot. I saw her giving them to the men, +and hirpled to the spot, and looked with an anxious eye at +the store which was diminishing fast. I had still retained +the twopence, and resolved to make an effort to obtain +a pair, but felt backward, conscious I had no equivalent to +give for them; holding out my coppers, I pointed to a pair +which I thought would answer me; I felt ashamed, and +looked to the ground, pointing to my feet when I had attracted +her attention, for she was looking in another direction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +She took the shoes and gave them to me. I proffered +my little cash; she gently put my hand aside, and, by a sign, +made me know that I was welcome to them. I never saw +a female so lovely as this young lady; her clear, black eyes +were swimming in tears, and her face covered with blushes; +her looks were so mild, so benevolent, she looked like an +angel sent from heaven to administer to our wants. Never +before or since have I felt the same sensation so intensely. +It was delightful; it was painful. I felt a choking in my +throat. I could have wept, and have found relief in it, but +I was surrounded by those who would have made sport of +my emotion. I retired a few paces to make way for others, +in silence. I dared not utter a sound, lest my feelings had +overpowered me, but stood and gazed at the lovely creature +until she retired. I felt as if everything to be esteemed on +earth was concentrated in her person and mind. Had I been +an admiral I would have gloried in calling her mine; had +it been necessary I could have faced death or any danger, to +free her from trouble or grief, with a feeling of joy and +exultation. Many a time has this fair creature been embodied +in my mind's eye, as fair and lovely as she was then, +but I never saw her again.</p> + +<p>Many others of the good inhabitants of Rennes administered +to our wants. I got, besides the shoes, a substitute +for a jacket, and a straw hat from an old man. Indeed, we +saw in our route scarce any others except old men, women, +and boys. Women were driving the carts, and working in +the fields, and doing the work done by the men in Britain. +From Rennes we were marched to Perche, our final destination, +in the same manner as we had been from the coast, +and lodged in prison; but I found it no prison to me: +men were so scarce at this time in France that we were +allowed to work out of prison if we chose, and only visited +once a-week to pass muster, and receive our allowance—so +I soon found a master, or, more properly, he found me in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +prison—a cart and plough-wright residing a short distance +from town.</p> + +<p>Citizen Vauquin, in secret, was a staunch Royalist; but, +in his common conversation, a Republican. To me he was +extremely kind, but our communications were very limited, +from my want of knowledge of French; but I was picking +it up with rapidity, and we soon contrived to understand +each other pretty well.</p> + +<p>It was now well on in the spring, and the weather warm +and agreeable. I was busy at my work, when Vauquin, +who was a stout, hale old man, came to me; there was something +comic in the expression of his countenance, joy and +vexation seemed by turns to pass over it, and at times to +struggle for mastery; he looked cautiously around lest any +one might overhear us, then said—</p> + +<p>"Ah, France! beautiful France! these cursed Democrats +have dimmed your glory, and ruined you! We have lost +our fleet in Egypt, and we fly before the Germans. What +can we have but defeat, while the best blood in France +either has been shed by her sons, or languishes in obscurity. +Could we be freed from the ruffians that tyrannize over us +in any way but this? We have suffered much, and must +suffer more, before we see the glories of France shine as +they once shone in the courts of her kings. Ha! Elder, +your sailors are the devils that humble France; from your +riches the seas are covered with your ships, and the brave +French, plundered by their rulers, have few. What could +be done with sixteen ships when fifty were upon them?"</p> + +<p>Piqued by his national vanity, I replied—</p> + +<p>"Had Nelson had half the number, there would have +been no fighting."</p> + +<p>"Why no fighting, Monsieur?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Because they would have run if they could," replied I; +"or struck when they saw no chance—that's all I have to +say on the subject. If you please let us change it, my friend."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By all means," said he, "let us change it. We are a +ruined and undone people since we lost our King. The +great nation are a people without a head; and, when a +house wants the head, all goes wrong."</p> + +<p>"You and I are at one on this point," replied I. "But +how comes it that you are as democratic as any one in the +neighbourhood when politics is the subject of discourse? +It is not so in Britain. Every man speaks his mind; yet +we have a king and a kingly government. I was led to +believe, before I left home, that in France alone there was +liberty: for all men were equal—freedom and equality +being the law of the land."</p> + +<p>"O Monsieur Elder!" exclaimed he, "freedom and +equality are the worst tyranny, as I shall shew you by my +sad experience. When all men make the law, who is to +obey? Better one tyrant than one million; for, when +every one thinks he is a law-maker, no one thinks of obeying +the law farther than it pleases himself. Listen to me; +and you shall hear the truth as I have experienced it, and +many thousands in France as well as I:—</p> + +<p>"When first the people of France began to give attention +to the writers and haranguers against the oppression +which we, no doubt, suffered, no one was more enthusiastic +than I was for the removal of the abuses; and I thought +no sacrifice could be too great to have them removed. I +was, at the time, carpenter to the great chateau which you +see in the distance. Our old lord, who was a severe master, +had died only a few years before, and had not the love of a +single peasant in his wide domains; but his son was the +reverse of his parent—the friend and benefactor of every +one on his estate; yet he inherited a fund of animosity +which it would have taken years of his kindness and +humanity to have obliterated. In this state of matters, +the troubles broke out. He was on the side of the people, +and aided, as far as in him lay, the cause of improvement in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +the state, until the factions in Paris—who, ruling the silly +multitude, led them to believe that they were ruled by +them—struck at the root of all good government by insulting +and imprisoning the King. From this time, he took +no active part in the commotions, but remained at his +chateau. I was his overseer, and managed his affairs. I +loved him with all my soul, for he was worthy of my love. +My ideas went still farther than his went, and I felt not +displeased with anything that had as yet occurred; for I +knew the tenacity with which the aristocracy clung to their +privileges; but the cunning and designing men who, under +the faint shew of obeying the people, ruled them at their +will for mischief and disorder, ultimately, by taking the +life of the King, took the key-stone out of the arch which +sheltered the people, and brought the whole fabric of civil +order about their ears. I was confounded at the blindness +I had laboured under; and, from that hour, my whole ideas +changed. But, alas! it was too late; and even those that +had lent a willing hand trembled at the mischief they had +done. Benefits are soon forgot; but the remembrance of +injuries are indelible. Numbers of needy plunderers had +arrived from Paris, and overspread these peaceful plains like +evil spirits, rousing the worst feeling of our peasantry into +action. As yet, no serious outrage had been committed in +this quarter; but I too plainly saw that it would not long +be deferred. I requested my dear master to fly, as many +others had done; for blood had begun to flow like water in +Paris and the provinces—not the blood of the guilty, but +the blood of the noble and virtuous; for, alas! France had +become the arena in the remorseless war of poverty against +property. The whole fabric of social order had been dissolved, +and men had returned to their original state of +barbarism; like jackalls or wolves, only banding together +when they scented plunder. To be rich or nobly born was +a crime of the deepest dye, only to be atoned by blood. I,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +with extreme pain, saw the storm gathering, and could only +deplore it; and what added to my anguish, was, I dared not +argue against them; for our old and worthy magistrates had +been deposed, and others, more in the spirit of the times, +appointed. As yet, no blood had been shed in Perche, but +numbers were immured in prison; and, had I given the +least cause of suspicion, I would have been placed beyond +the power of lending that aid to the distressed which I was +resolved to afford them, or perish in the attempt. Several +times I had entreated my young lord to fly, and avoid the +storm; but my entreaties were in vain. He thought far +too well of his fellow-men.</p> + +<p>"At length a rumour reached us that two commissioners +were on their way to the chateau to sequestrate it for the +use of the state: immediately there was a violent commotion +amongst the people—fearful of losing their share of +the plunder, all marched in a tumultuous manner to assault +it. Aware of what might ensue—for blood had begun to +flow—I got my young lord disguised as one of my workmen, +and set to his bench—that very one at which you work—and +joined the crowd as they approached the chateau. To +prevent suspicion, no one shouted louder than I, 'Down +with the Tyrants!'—'Down with the Aristocrats!'—'<i>Vive +la Nation!</i>'—'<i>Vive la Republique!</i>' We entered the +chateau, which was searched in vain for my young lord. +It was now that the true spirit of the peasantry shewed itself +in all its deformity; everything of value was in a short +time carried off or destroyed; while every quarter resounded +with execrations and cries for blood—the oppressions of +the father were alone remembered. How it occurred I have +yet to learn, but the youthful aristocrat was discovered in +my shop; this was a severe blow to me, for I was immediately +seized by the furious crowd, charged by them +with the worst of crimes in their eyes, the concealing from +them a victim of their rage. It was a fearful hour. I expected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +to have been torn to pieces upon the spot. My +presence of mind did not forsake me: I begged to be heard +before the fatal daggers that were brandished around reached +my heart. I stood firm until a pause of the storm, when I +appealed to them not for mercy, but for revenge—revenge +upon my lord before I died. "I have been betrayed," I +cried, "by some one. I appeal to yourselves for my former +love of my country. Let me die, but let it be for my country, +and let me be revenged upon the tyrants. Fire the chateau!—'<i>Vive +la Nation</i>,' '<i>A bas les Aristocrats</i>,' '<i>Vive la Republique</i>'—and +let me die by the light of the stronghold of +tyranny enveloped in flames."</p> + +<p>"I now breathed more freely. Shouts rent the air; for +like a weathercock is a mob—ever pointing as the last breath +of wind blows. '<i>Vive Vauquin!</i>' resounded from every +lip; the chateau was enveloped in flames; its owner immersed +in a dungeon to await his doom, already fixed before +the mock forms of justice were gone through. Think +not the worse of me for the part I acted; every paper and +article of plate had been concealed for some days before. +To save, if possible, his life, no one was louder in denouncing +my lord than myself, for his having dared to conceal +himself in my shop. At my return, I began seriously to +turn over in my mind what steps I was next to pursue for +his safety, now rendered difficult, almost beyond my power +to overcome. I feared not death, nor any danger to myself, +could my object have been attained by it. There was +not a moment to be lost; the following day was to have +been the day of his trial and death. The commissioners +had arrived from Paris, and a fête was resolved to be got +up to welcome them. In a state of anxiety I can hardly +describe, I bustled about and waited upon the commissioners; +but my chief object was to ascertain the exact spot +where the aristocrats were confined. My lord was my +chiefest care, for however much I had, at the commencement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +of the revolution, wished for the abused power of the +nobles to be reduced, I had no wish for their ruin, far less +their murder; judge my horror when I learned that he was +in the lower dungeon of the prison, to which there was only +one entrance through the guard-room, which was constantly +filled by the soldiers on guard. With a heart void of hope +I returned to my home. In an agony of mind I threw myself +upon my couch, that if possible I might exclude every +other thought but the one that I wished to fix my whole +attention upon: while I walked about, I felt like one distracted. +At length, I was so fortunate as to call to mind +having, when a boy, heard my father tell that he had assisted +my grandfather in securing a door into the lower dungeon, +that led into another even more loathsome, where +the Huguenots were wont to be confined in the time of +Louis the Fourteenth; this had a door which led into the +outer court of the prison, the walls of which were in the +hinder part, ruinous and neglected, as few of the present +people in authority knew of such a dungeon; the old door +having been long built up. A faint ray of hope shot +through my mind; I started from my bed, and, concealing +what tools I judged to be necessary, proceeded to the jail +without being perceived—this was rendered the more easy +as every one was engaged preparing for the fête. I remained +under the shelter of the ruined wall until it was +quite dark. A voice of mirth and revelry sounded in the +front of that prison, whose gloomy walls and strong iron +barred windows might, and no doubt did, enclose hearts +more sorrowful than mine, but none more anxious. My situation, +solitary as it was, was full of peril—I might be missed +at the fête, and suspicion roused if I was so fortunate as to +succeed; but I allowed no selfish thought to intrude. I was +so fortunate as to find the low arched door I had heard my +father speak of; after considerable labour it yielded to my +efforts, and I entered the low and noisesome vault which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +heard and re-echoed the groans of so many victims of tyranny +whose only fault was adhering to the dictates of their consciences +against an intolerant priesthood. So baleful was the +air I breathed, that I was forced to retire, or I had fallen to +the damp floor; again I entered, for I heard the voice of +my lord in prayer, and felt a new sort of assurance arise +in my mind; there was no distinguishing one object from another, +so impenetrable was the darkness, and the faint sound +appeared to come from no particular side of the dungeon. I +commenced groping with my hands, from the entrance, along +the walls; it was a loathsome task, for they were damp and +ropy, and loathsome reptiles ever and anon made me withdraw +my fingers; still I groped on. At length I succeeded; the +door was forced to yield to my skill and efforts; all that divided +me from him I sought was the strong planks and plaster. +I struck a sharp single blow upon it, and paused—the voice +of my master had ceased from the commencement of my +work upon the second door. It was a period of intense +anxiety, lest he should alarm his guards, if any of them +had been in his dungeon. To my first signal no answer was +made: he knew not that he had a friend so near, willing +to sacrifice everything for his rescue. I struck a second +blow, and again listened; I heard him utter a faint exclamation +of surprise, and all was again still. The third time +I struck, and I heard a movement on the other side: the +plaster was struck, piercing a small hole, and we were enabled +to communicate. I found he was alone in his dismal +dungeon. It was agreed that I was to return in two hours +with a disguise for him, after I had appeared at the fête; +and, in the meantime, I loosened the fastening so as he +could easily force it away should any thing happen to prevent +my return; and, these arrangements being made, I +took my departure, in the same stealthy manner in which I +had reached him.</p> + +<p>"With my heart still anxious but more at ease, I joined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +the festive throng, and, joining in the dance for a short time, +then retired, got all ready, returned, with a view to relieve +my lord from his dungeon, and had the unspeakable pleasure +to see him beyond its walls, dressed as a peasant girl. Our +parting was brief but sincere, my wishes for his safety were +equal to the extent of my love, but I have never heard of +him since; whether he went for La Vendee, or joined the +allied army, I never knew. As soon as I saw him safe out +of the town, I returned to the joyous group, and was among +the last to leave it. My share in the escape of my noble +master was never even suspected; but from this time I have +wished the fall of the tyrants that have ruled France with a +rod of iron, and for the return of our King and nobility, +until which time we can never hope for tranquillity. I am +not displeased at what can assist in aiding their overthrow +but I feel, as a true Frenchman, humbled at every defeat +our brave forces sustain. I love the beautiful fields of +France and all her sons, but I hate the demagogues who at +present rule her destinies."</p> + +<p>Had I not been an exile against my will, I never had +been more happy in my life than I was at this time. I, no +doubt, was a prisoner of war; but it was only in name. I +never saw my prison but once a-week, when I appeared at +the muster to receive my jail allowance, and returned to +citizen Vauquin's in a few hours after, or strayed where I +chose within the proscribed distance. Our visits to the +prison always gave rise to an afternoon of merriment and +pleasure—a meeting of friends. Not one of us wished to +escape, or desired an exchange.</p> + +<p>I was always a fortunate fellow. The four months I was +here I improved much in my drawing, and found the instructions +of poor Walden of the utmost service to me; and +I was much benefited by a relation of Vauquin's, who had +studied the arts at Paris. It was thus I spent my evenings; +but I was never as yet allowed to enjoy my good fortune<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +long. We were ordered to be marched to the coast at +Saint Malos, where a cartel was to be in readiness to receive +us. I bade adieu to my kind friend, Citizen Vauquin, not +without regret, and set out for the coast. There was not a +trace of pleasure at our release among us; we had no cause, +at least nine-tenths of us. For, as Bill Wates had foretold, +off Jersey we were brought too by the <i>Ramillies</i>, and crowded +on board her. The greater part were draughted to other +men-of-war, but in her I remained until she was paid off, +at the peace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> +<h2>WILLIE WASTLE'S ACCOUNT OF HIS WIFE.</h2> + +<div style="padding-left:35%"> +"Sic a wife as Willie had!<br /> +I wadna gie a button for her."<br /> +</div> + +<p><span style="padding-left:60%" class="smcap">Burns.</span><a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /> +</p> + + +<p>"It was a very cruel dune thing in my neebor, Robert +Burns, to mak a sang aboot my wife and me," said Mr +William Wastle, as he sat with a friend over a jug of reeking +toddy, in a tavern near the Bridge-end in Dumfries +where he had been attending the cattle market; "I didna +think it was neebor-like," he added; "indeed it was a rank +libel upon baith her and me; and I took it the worse, inasmuch +as I always had a very high respect for Maister +Burns. Though he said that I 'dwalt on Tweed,' and that +I 'was a wabster,' yet everybody kenned wha the sang was +aimed at. Neither did my wife merit the description that +has been drawn o' her; for, though she was nae beauty, +and hadna a face like a wax-doll, yet there were thousands</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> +<p>o' waur looking women to be met wi' than my Kirsty; and +to say that her mither was a 'tinkler,' was very unjustifiable, +for her parents were as decent and respectable people, +in their sphere o' life, as ye would hae found in a' Nithsdale. +Her faither had a small farm which joined on with +one that I took a lease o', when I was about one-and-twenty. +Kirsty was about three years aulder; and, though not a +bonny woman, she was, in many respects, as ye shall hear +in the coorse o' my story, a very extraordinary one. I was +in the habit o' seeing her every day, and as I sometimes +was working in a field next to her, I had every opportunity +o' observing her industry, and that, frae mornin' till nicht, +she was aye eident. This gave me a far higher opinion o' +her than if I had seen her gaun about wi' a buskit head; +and often, at meal-times, I used to stand and speak to her +owre the dyke. But, after we had been acquainted in this +manner for some months, when the cheerfu' summer weather +came in, and the grass by the dyke-sides was warm and +green, and the bonny gowans blossomed among it, I louped +owre the dyke, and we sat doun and took our dinners together. +I couldna have believed it possible that a bit bare +bannock and a drap skim milk wad gang doun sae deliciously, +but never before had I partaken o' onything that +was sae pleasant to the palate. One day I was quite surprised, +when I found that my arm had slipped unconsciously +round her waist, and, drawing her closer to my side, I seighed, +and said—'O Kirsty, woman!'</p> + +<p>"She pulled away my hand from her waist, and looking +me in the face, said—'Weel, Willie, man, what is't?'</p> + +<p>"'Kirsty,' said I, 'I like ye.'"</p> + +<p>"'I thocht as meikle,' quoth she, 'but could ye no hae +said sae at ance.'"</p> + +<p>"'Perhaps I could, dear,' said I; 'but ye ken true love +is aye blate; however, if ye hae nae objections, I'll gang +yont, after fothering time the micht, and speak to yer faither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +and mither; and if they hae nae objections, and ye have yer +providin' ready, wi' yer guid-will and consent, I shall gie +up oor names, and we shall be cried on Sabbath first.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' said she, 'I haena lived for five-and-twenty years +without expectin' to get a guidman some day; and I hae +had my providin' ready since I was eighteen, an' a' o' my +ain spinnin' and bleachin', an' the lint bocht wi' what I had +wrocht for; so that I am behauden to naebody. My faither +and mither have mair sense than to cast ony obstacle in the +way o' my weelfare; and, as ye are far frae bein' disagreeable +to me, if we are to be married, it may as weel be sune +as syne, and we may be cried on Sunday if ye think proper.'</p> + +<p>"'O Kirsty, woman!" cried I, and I drew my arm round +her waist again, 'ye hae made me as happy as a prince! +I hardly ken which end o' me is upmost!'</p> + +<p>"'Na, Willie,' said she, 'there is nae necessity for ony +nonsensical raptures, ye ken perfectly weel that yer head +is upmost, though I hae heard my faither talk about some +idiots that he ca's philosophers, who say that the world +whirls roond aboot like a cart-wheel on an axle-tree, and that +ance in every twenty-four hours our feet are upmost, and our +head downmost; but it will be lang or onybody get me to believe +in sic balderdash! As to yer being happy at present, it +shall be nae faut o' mine if ye are not aye sae; and if ye be +aye as I would wish ye to be, ye will never be unhappy.'</p> + +<p>"Such, as near as I can recollect, is not only the history, +but the exact words o' oor courtship. Her faither and +mither gied their consent without the slightest hesitation. +I remember her faither's words to me were—'Weel, William, +frae a' that I hae seen o' ye, ye appear to be a very +steady and industrious young man, and ane that is likely to +do weel in the world. I hae seen, also, wi' great satisfaction, +that ye are very regular in yer attendance upon the +ordinances; there hasna been a Sabbath, since ye cam to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +oor neebor, that I hae missed ye oot o' yer seat in the kirk. +Frae a' that I hae heard concernin' ye, also, ye hae always +been a serious, sober, and weel-behaved young man. These +things are a great satisfaction to a faither when he finds +them in the lad that his dochter wishes to marry. Ye hae +my consent to tak Kirsty; and, though I say it, I believe +ye will find her to mak as industrious, carefu', and kind a +wife, as ye would hae found if ye had sought through a' +broad Scotland for ane. I will say it, however, and before +her face, that there are some things in which she takes it o' +her mother, and in which she will hae her ain way. But +this is her only faut. I'm sure ye'll ne'er hae cause to complain +o' her wasting a bawbee, or o' her allowing even the +heel o' a kebbuck to gang to unuse. It is needless for me +to say mair; but ye hae my full and free consent to marry +when ye like.'</p> + +<p>"Then up spoke the auld guidwife, and said—'Weel, +Willie, lad, if you and Kirsty hae made up yer minds +to mak a bargain o' it, I am as little disposed to oppose yer +inclinations as her faither is. A guid wife, I sincerely +believe, ye will find her prove to ye; and though her faither +says that in some things she will be like me, and have her +ain way, let me tell ye, lad, that is owre often necessary for +a woman to do, wha is striving everything in her power for +the guid o' her husband and the family, and sees him, just +through foolishness, as it were, striving against her. Ye are +strange beings you men-folk to deal wi'. But ye winna find +her a bare bride, for she has a kist fu' o' linen o' her ain +spinnin', that may serve ye a' yer days, and even when ye +are dead, though ye should live for sixty years.'</p> + +<p>"I thought it rather untimeous that the auld woman +should hae spoken aboot linen for oor grave-claes, before +we were married; and I suppose my countenance had +hinted as much, for Kirsty seemed to hae observed it, and +she said—'My mother says what is and ought to be. It is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +aye best to be provided for whatever may come; and as +Death often gies nae warning, I wadna like to be met wi' it, +and to hae naething in the house to lay me out in like a +Christian.'</p> + +<p>"I thought there was a vast deal o' sense and discretion +in what she said; and though I didna like the idea o' such +a premature providing o' winding-sheets, yet, after she +spoke, I highly approved o' her prudence and forethought.</p> + +<p>"It was on a Monday afternoon, about three weeks after +the time I have been speaking o', that Kirsty, wi' her +faither, and mother, and another young lass, an acquaintance +o' hers, that was to be best-maid, cam yont to my +house for her and me to be married. I had sent for ane o' +my brothers to be best-man, and he was with me waiting +when they came. She was not in the least discomposed, +but behaved very modestly. In a few minutes the minister +arrived, when the ceremony immediately began, and within +a quarter of an hour she was mine, and I was hers, for the +term o' oor natural lives.</p> + +<p>"From the time that I took the farm, I had no kind o' +dishes in the house, save a wooden bowie or twa, four +trenchers, three piggins, and twa bits o' tin cans, that I had +bought from a travelling tinker for twopence a-piece, and +which Kirsty afterwards told me, were each a halfpenny +a-piece aboon their value. I dinna think that I had tasted +tea aboon a dozen times in the whole course o' my life; but, +as it was coming into general use, I thought it would look +respectfu' to my bride, before her faither and mother, if I +should hae tea upon oor marriage day, and I could ask the +minister to stop and tak a dish wi' us. I thought it would +gie a character o' respectability to oor wedding. Therefore, +on the Saturday afore the marriage, I went to Dumfries, and +bought half a dozen o' bonny blue cups and saucers. I +never durst tell Kirsty how meikle I gied for them. It was +with great difficulty that I got them carried hame without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +breaking. I also bought two ounces o' the best tea, and a +whole pound o' brown sugar.</p> + +<p>"I had a servant lassie at the time, the doohter o' a hind +in the neighbourhood; she was necessary to me to do the +work about the house, and to milk twa kye that I kept, to +mak the cheese, and a part o' the day to help the workers +out wi' the bondage.</p> + +<p>"'Lassie,' said I, when I got hame; 'do ye ken hoo to +mak tea?'</p> + +<p>"'I'm no very sure,' said she; 'but I think I do. I ance +got a cup when I wasna weel, frae the farmer's wife that my +faither lives wi'. I'll try.'</p> + +<p>"'Here, then,' says I; 'tak care o' thir, and see that ye +dinna break them, or it will mak a breaking that ye +wouldna like in your quarter's wages.' So I gied her the +cups and saucers to put awa carefully into the press.</p> + +<p>"'O maister,' says she; 'but noo, when I recollect, ye'll +need a tea-kettle, and a tea-pat, and a cream-pat, and teaspoons.'</p> + +<p>"'Preserve me!' quoth I, 'the lassie is surely wrang in +the head! Hoo mony articles o' <i>tea</i> and <i>cream</i> hae ye there? +The parritch kettle will do as weel as a tea-kettle—where +can be the difference? Your tea-pats I ken naething aboot, +and as for a cream-pat, set down the cream-bowie; and as +for spoons, ye fool, they dinna sip tea—they drink it—just +sirple it, as it were, oot o' the saucer.'</p> + +<p>"'O sir,' said she; 'but they need a little spoon to stir +it round to mak the sugar melt—and that is weel minded, +ye'll also require a sugar-basin.'</p> + +<p>"'Hoots! toots! lassie,' cried I, 'do ye intend to ruin +me? By yer account o' the matter, it would be almost as +expensive to set up a tea equipage, as a chariot equipage. +No, no; just do as the miller's wife o' Newmills did.'</p> + +<p>"'And what way micht that be, sir?' inquired she.</p> + +<p>"'Why,' said I, 'she took such as she had, and she never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +wanted! Just ye tak such as ye have—cogie, bowie, or +tinniken, never ye mind—show ye your dexterity.'</p> + +<p>"'Very weel, sir,' said she; 'I'll do the best I can.'</p> + +<p>"But, just to exemplify another trait in my wife's character, +I will tell ye the upshot o' my cups and saucers. I +confess that I was in a state of very considerable perturbation; +not only on account o' what the lassie had told me +about the want o' a tea-kettle, tea-pat, and so forth, but +also that, including the minister, there were seven o' us, +while I had but six cups; and I consoled mysel by thinking +that, as Kirsty and I were now <i>one</i>, she might drink oot o' +the cup and I wad tak the saucer, so that a cup and saucer +would serve us baith; and I was trustin to the ingenuity o' +the lassie to find substitutes for the other deficiencies, +when she came ben to where we were sitting, and going +forward to Kirsty, says she—'Mistress, I have had the +twa ounces o' tea on boiling in a chappin o' water, for +the last twa hoors—do ye think it will be what is ca'ed +<i>masked</i> noo?'</p> + +<p>"'Tea!' said my new-made wife, wi' a look o' astonishment; +'is the lassie talking aboot <i>tea</i>? While I am to be +in this house—and I suppose that is to be for my life—there +shall nae poisonous foreign weed be used in it, nor +come within the door, unless it be some drug that a doctor +orders. Take it off the fire, and throw the broo awa. My +certes! if young folk like us were to begin wi' sic extravagance, +where would be the upshot? Na, na, Willie,' said +she, turning round to me, 'let us just begin precisely as we +mean to end. At all events, let us rather begin meanly, +than end beggarly. I hae seen some folk, no aboon oor +condition in life, mak a great dash on their wedding-day; +and some o' them even hire gigs and coaches, forsooth, to +tak a jaunt awa for a dozen o' miles! Poor things! it was +the first and last time that ony o' them was either in gig or +coach. But there shall be nae extravagance o' that kind for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +me. My faither and mither care naething about tea, for they +hae never been used to it, and I'm sure that our friends here +care as little; and, asking the minister's pardon, I am perfectly +sure and certain, that tea can be nae treat to him, for +he has it every day, and it will be standing ready for him +when he gangs hame. The supper will be ready by eight +o'clock, and those who wish it, may tak a glass o' speerits +in the meantime—as it isna every day that they are at my +wedding.'</p> + +<p>"Her faither and mother looked remarkable proud and +weel-pleased like at what she said, just as if they wished to +say to me—'There's a wife for ye!' But I thought the +minister seemed a good deal surprised, and in a few minutes +he took up his hat, wished us much joy, and went away. +For my part, I didna think sae much aboot my bride's lecture, +as I rejoiced that she thereby released me from the +confusion I should have experienced in exposing the poverty +o' my tea equipage.</p> + +<p>"It was on the very morning after oor marriage, and +just as I was gaun oot to my wark—'Willie,' says she, 'I +think we should single the turnips in the field west o' the +hoose the day. The cotters' twa bondage lasses, and me, +will be able to manage it by the morn's nicht.'</p> + +<p>"'O, my dear,' quoth I, 'but I hae nae intention that ye +should gang out into the fields to work, noo that ye are my +wife. Let the servant-lass gang out, and ye can look after +the meat.'</p> + +<p>"'Her! the idle taupie!' said she, 'we hae nae mair need +for her than a cart has for a third wheel. Mony a time it +has grieved me to observe her motions, when ye were out o' +the way—and there would she and the other twa wenches +been standing, clashing for an hour at a time, and no +workin' a stroke. I often had it in my mind to tell ye, but +only I thought ye might think it forward in me, as I perceived +ye had a kindness for me. But I can baith do all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +that is to do in-doors, and work out-by also, and at the end +o' the quarter she shall leave.'</p> + +<p>"'Wi' a' my heart,' says I, 'if ye wish it;' for it struck +me she micht be a wee thocht jealous o' the lassie; 'but +there is no the sma'est necessity for you working out in the +fields; for though she leaves, we can get a callant at threepence +a-day, that would just do as muckle out-work as she +does, and ye would hae naething to attend to but the affairs +o' the hoose.'</p> + +<p>"'O William!' replied she, 'I'm surprised to hear ye +speak. Ye talk o' threepence a-day just as if it were naething. +Hoo mony starving families are there, that threepence +a-day would mak happy? It is my maxim never to +spend a penny unless it be laid out to the greatest possible +advantage. Ye should always keep that in view, every +time ye put yer hand in your pocket. He that saves a +penny has as mony thanks, in the lang run, as he that gies +it awa. Threepence a-day, not including the Sabbath, is +eighteenpence a-week; noo, you that are a scholar, only +think how much that comes to in a twelvemonth. There +are fifty-twa weeks in the year—that is fifty-twa shillings; +and fifty-twa sixpences is—how much?'</p> + +<p>"'Twenty-six shillings, my dear,' said I, for I was quite +amused at her calculation—the thing had never struck me +before.</p> + +<p>"'Weel,' added she, 'fifty-two shillings and twenty-six +shillings, put that together, and see how much it comes to.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' says I, after half a minute's calculation, 'it will +just be three pounds, eighteen shillings, to a farthing.'</p> + +<p>"'Noo,' cried she, 'only think o' that!—three pounds +eighteen shillings a-year; and ye would throw it away, just +as if it were three puffs o' breath! Now, William, just +listen to me and tak tent—that is within twa shillings o' +four pounds. It would far mair than cleed you and me, +out and out, frae head to foot, from year's end to year's end.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +But at present the wench's meat and wages come to three +times that, and therefore I am resolved, William, that while +I am able to work, we shall neither throw away the one +nor the other. It is best that we should understand each +other in time: therefore, I just tell ye plainly, as I said +yesterday, that as I wish to end, I mean to begin. This +very day, this very morning and hour, I go out wi' the +bondage lassies to single the turnips; and, at the end o' the +quarter, the lazy taupie butt-a-house maun walk aboot her +business.'</p> + +<p>"'Weel, Kirsty, my darling,' says I, 'your way be it. +Only I maun again say, that I had no wish or inclination +whatever to see you toiling and thinning turnips beneath a +burning sun, or maybe taking them up and shawing them, +when the cauld drift was cutting owre the face keener than +a razor.'</p> + +<p>"'Weel, William,' quoth she, 'it is needless saying any +more words about it—it is my fixed and determined resolution.'</p> + +<p>"'Then, hinny,' says I, 'if ye be absolutely resolved upon +that, it is o' no manner o' use to say ony mair upon the +subject, of course—your way be it.'</p> + +<p>"So the servant lassie was discharged accordingly, and +Kirsty did everything hersel. Wet day and dry day, whatever +kind o' wark was to be done, there was she in the +middle o' it, by her example spurring on the bondagers. +Even when we began to hae a family, I hae seen her working +in the fields wi' an infant on her back; and I am certain +that for a dozen o' harvests, while she was aye at the head +o' the shearers, there was aye our bairn that was youngest +at the time, lying rowed up in a blanket at the foot o' the +rig, and playing wi' the stubble to amuse itsel.</p> + +<p>"There were many that said that I was entirely under +her thumb, and that she had the maister-skep owre me. +But that was a grand mistake, for she by no means exercised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +onything like maistership owre me; though I am free to +confess, that I at all times paid a great degree o' deference +to her opinions, and that she had a very particular and +powerfu' way o' enforcing them. Yet, although I was in +no way cowed by her, there wasna a bairn that we had, from +the auldest to the youngest, that durst play <i>cheep</i> before her. +She certainly had her family under great subjection, and +their bringing up did her great credit. They were allowed +time to play like ither bairns—but from the time that they +were able to make use o' their hands, ye would hardly hae +found it possible to come in upon us, and seen ane o' them +idle. All were busy wi' something; and no ane o' them +durst hae stepped owre a prin lying on the floor, without +stooping doun to tak it up, or passed onything that was out +o' its place without putting it right. For I will say for her +again, that, if my Kirsty wasna a bonny wife, she was not +only a thrifty but a tidy ane, and keepit every ane and every +thing tidy around her.</p> + +<p>"She was a strange woman for abhorring everything that +was new-fangled. She was a most devout believer in, and +worshipper o' the wisdom o' oor ancestors. She perfectly +hated everything like change; and as to onything that implied +speculation, ye micht as weel hae spoken o' profanation +in her presence. She said she liked auld friends, auld customs, +auld fashions; and was the sworn enemy o' a' the innovations +on the practices and habits that had been handed +doun frae generation to generation. I dinna ken if ever +she heard the names Whig or Tory in her life; but if Tory +mean an enemy o' change, then my Kirsty certainly was a +Tory o' the very purest water.</p> + +<p>"I dinna suppose that she believed there was such a word +as <i>improvement</i> in the whole Dictionary. She would hae +allooed everything to stand steadfast as Lot's wife, for ever +and for ever. But, however, just to gie ye a specimen or +twa o' her remarkable disposition:—I think it was about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +sixteen years after we were married, that I took a tack o' an +adjoining farm, which was much larger than the ane we occupied. +I was conscious it would require every penny we +had scraped thegither, and that we had saved, to stock it. +My wife was by no means favourable to my taking it. She +said we kenned what we had done, but we didna ken what +we might do; and it was better to go on as we were doing, +than to risk oor a'. I acknowledge that there was a vast +deal o' truth in what she said; but, however, I saw that the +farm was an excellent bargain, and I was resolved to tak +it, say what she might; and therefore, though she was said +to domineer owre me, yet, just to prove to every person round +about that I was not under a wife's government, I did tak +it. I had not had it twa years, when I began to find that +thrashing wi' the flail would never answer. Often, when the +markets were on the rise, and when I could hae turned owre +many pounds into my ain pocket, I found it was a'thegither +impossible for me to get my corn thrashed in time to catch +the markets while they were high; and I am certain that, +in the second year that I had the new farm, I lost at least a +hundred pounds frae that cause alone—that is, I didna get +a hundred pounds that I micht hae got, and that was much +the same as losing it oot o' my pocket. Thrashing machines +at that period were just beginning to come into vogue, but +there was a terrible outcry against them; and mony a ane +said that they were an invention o' the Prince o' Darkness; +for my part I wish he would never do mair ill upon the +earth, than invent sic things as thrashing-machines. Hooever, +I saw plain and clearly the advantage that the machine +had owre the flail, and I was determined to hae ane. But +never did I see a woman in such a steer as the mention o' +the thing put Kirsty in! She went perfectly wild aboot it.</p> + +<p>"'What, William!' she cried, 'what do ye talk aboot? +Losh me, man, have ye nae mair sense?—have ye nae discretion +whatever? Will ye really rush upon ruin at a horse-race?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +Ye talk aboot getting a machine! How, I ask ye, +how do ye expect that ever ye could prosper for a single day +after, if ye were to throw oor twa decent barn-men oot o' +employment, and their families oot o' bread? I just ask +ye that question, William. Does na the proverb say—'Live +and let live;' and hoo are men to live, if, by an invention +o' the Enemy o' mankind, ye tak work oot o' their hands, +and bread oot o' their mouths?'</p> + +<p>"'Dear me, Kirsty!' said I, 'hoo is it possible that a +woman o' your excellent sense can talk such nonsense? Ye +see very weel that, if I had had a machine, I micht hae +made a hundred pounds mair than I did by last year's crops—that, +certainly, would hae been a good turn to us—and, +tak my word for it, it is neither in the power nor in the +nature o' the Evil One to do a guid turn to onybody.'</p> + +<p>"'Willie,' quoth she, 'ye talk like a silly man—like a +very silly man, indeed. If the Enemy o' mankind hadna +it in his power to do for us what we tak to be for oor guid, +hoo in the warld do ye think he could tempt us to our hurt? +I say, that thrashing-machines are an invention o' his, and +that they are ane o' the instruments he is bringing up for +the ruin o' this country. It is him, and him alone, that is +putting it into your head to buy ane o' his infernal devices, +in order that he may not only ruin you, baith soul and body, +by filling ye wi' a desire o' riches, an' making ye the oppressor +and the robber o' the poor, but that, through your +oppression and robbery, he may ruin them also, and bring +them to shame or the gallows!'</p> + +<p>"'Forgie me, Kirsty,' said I, 'what in a' the world do ye +mean? Hoo is it possible that ye can talk aboot me as +likely to be either an oppressor or a robber o' the poor? +I'll declare there never was a beggar passed either me or +my door, that ever I saw, but I gied him something. I'm +sure, guidwife, ye baith ken better o' me, and think better +o' me than to talk sae.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Yes, William,' said she, 'I did think better o' ye; but +I noo see distinctly that the Enemy is leading ye blindfolded +to your ruin. First, through the pride o' your heart, he +tempted ye to tak this big farm, that, as ye thocht, ye +might hasten to be rich; and now he is seducing ye to buy +ane o' his diabolical machines for the same end, and in order +that ye may not only deprive honest men and their families +o' bread, but, belike, rather than starve, tempt them to steal! +And what ca' ye that but oppressing and robbing the poor? +Hooever, buy a machine!—buy ane, and ye'll see what will +be the upshot! If ye dinna repent it, say I'm no your wife.'</p> + +<p>"I confess her words were onything but agreeable to me, +and they rather set me a hesitating hoo to act. Hooever +my mind was bent upon buying the machine. I had said +to several o' my neebors that I intended to hae ane put up; +and I was convinced that, if I drew back o' my word, it +would be said that my wife wouldna let me get it, and I +would be made a general laughing-stock—and that was a +thing that I held in greater dread than even my wife's lectures, +severe as they sometimes were; therefore, reason or +nane, I got a machine put up. It caused a very general +outcry amongst a' the 'datal' men and their wives for miles +round. At ae time I even thocht that they would mob +me and pull it to pieces. But all their clamour was a mere +snaw-flake fa'ing in the sea, compared wi' the perpetual +dirdum that Kirsty rang in my ears about it. She actually +threatened that judgments would follow, and I didna ken a' +what. But, on the morning o' the day that I yoked the +horses into it, and began to thrash wi' it for the first time +I declare to you that she took the six bairns wi' her, and +absolutely went to her faither's, vowing to work for them +until the blood sprang from her finger-ends, rather then live +wi' a man that would be guilty o' such madness and iniquity.</p> + +<p>"But having heard before dinner-time that I had had to +employ a woman at sixpence a-day to feed into the machine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +she came back as fast as her feet could carry her, wi' a' the +bairns behint her, and ordering the stranger away, began to +feed the machine hersel', and the bairns carried her the sheaves.</p> + +<p>"I saw that out o' a spirit o' pure wickedness, she was +distressing hersel' far beyond what there was the sma'est +occasion for. It was as clear as day, that indignation was +working in her heart, like barm fermenting in a bottle, and +just about half an hour before we were to leave off thrashing +for the nicht, she was seized with a very alarming pain +in the breast. I saw and said it was a hysterical affection, +and was altogether the consequence o' the passion that she +had given way to on account o' the unlucky machine. She, +however, denied that there were such diseases in existence +as either hysterical or nervous affections. They were sham +disorders, she said, that cam into the country wi' tea and +spirit-drinking; and she assuredly was free from indulging +in either the ane or the other. But she grew worse and +worse, and was at last obliged to sit down upon some straw +on the barn-floor. I ventured forward to her, and said—'Kirsty, +woman, ye had better gang awa into the house. +Ye will do yersel' mair ill by sittin there, for there is a current +o' air through the loft, which, after you being warm +with working, may gie ye your death o' cauld. Rise up, +dear, and gang awa into the house, and try if a glass o' +usquebae will do ye ony guid.'</p> + +<p>"Maister Burns, the poet, has said—</p> + +<p><span style="padding-left:30%">'She has an ee, she has but <i>ane</i>;'<br /></span></p> + + +<p>but, certes, had he seen the look that she gied me as I then +spoke to her, he would hae been satisfied that she had <i>twa</i>! +I saw it was o' nae manner o' use for me either to offer +advice or to express sympathy. The wife o' an auld man +that was called John Neilson, and who for several years had +been our barn-man, came into the machine-loft at the time, +and wi' a great deal o' concern she asked my wife what was +like the matter wi' her. Now this auld Peggy Neilson had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +the reputation, for miles round, o' being an extraordinary +<i>skilly</i> woman. There wasna a bairn in the parish took a +sair throat, or got a burnt foot, or a cut finger, or took a +<i>dwam</i> for a day or twa, but its mother said—'I maun hae +Peggy Neilson spoken to aboot that bairn, before it be owre +late.' Kirsty, therefore, told her hoo she was affected, when +the other, wi' the confidence o' a doctor o' medicine brought +up at the first college in the kingdom, said—'Then, ma'am, +if that be the way ye feel, there is naething in the warld sae +guid for ye as a blast o' the pipe. I aye carry a tinder-box +and flint and steel wi' me, and ye are welcome to a whuff o' +my cutty.'</p> + +<p>"Now, Kirsty was a bitter enemy to baith smoking and +snuffing in general; but she had great faith in the skill o' +Peggy Neilson, and wad far rather hae done whatever she +advised than followed the prescription o' the best doctor in +a' the land. She took the auld woman's pipe, therefore, +and began to blaw through a spirit o' pain and perverseness +at the same moment. As I anticipated, it soon made her +dizzy in the head, and she had to be led to the house. +Hooever, in a short time, the pain she had been suffering +was greatly abated, though whether the smoking contributed +towards removing it or not, I dinna pretend to say. Just +as she had been taen to the house, we were dune wi' +thrashing for the day, and I was very highly gratified wi' +the day's wark.</p> + +<p>"But I was very tired, and as soon as I had had my +sowens I went to bed. I several times thought, and remarked +it, that there was a sort o' burnt smell about.</p> + +<p>"'Ay,' said Kirsty, who by this time was a great deal +better; 'they who will use the engines o' forbidden agents +maun expect to smell them, as in the end they will feel +them.'</p> + +<p>"Being conscious it was o' nae use to reason wi' her, for +she in general had the better o' me in an argument, I tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +to compose mysel' to sleep. But it was in vain to think o' +closing my een, for the smell o' burning grew stronger and +stronger, and I was rising again, saying—'There is something +burning aboot somewhere, and I canna rest until I +hae seen what it is.'</p> + +<p>"'Nor let other folk rest either,' said Kirsty.</p> + +<p>"Just at that moment, oor eldest dochter, who was as +perfect a picture o' beauty as ever man looked upon wi' eyes +o' admiration, and who being alarmed by the smell, as well +as me, had gane oot to examine from what it proceeded +came running oot o' breath, crying—'Faither! faither!-the +barn and everything is on fire!'</p> + +<p>"'O goodness!' cried I, as I threw on part o' my claes +in the twinkling o' an ee; 'what wretch can hae been sae +wicked as to do it!'</p> + +<p>"'It's a judgment upon ye,' said Kirsty, 'for having +such a thing about the place, after a' the admonitions ye +had against it. I said ye would see what would be the upshot, +and it hasna been lang o' coming.'</p> + +<p>"'O ye tormenter o' my life!' cried I, as I ran oot o' the +house; 'it's your handy-work!'</p> + +<p>"'Mine!' exclaimed she. 'O ye heartless man that ye +are, how dare ye presume either to say or think sic a thing!' +and she followed me out.</p> + +<p>"The whole stackyard was black wi' smoke—it was hardly +possible to breathe—and a great sheet o' fire, like the mouth +o' a fiery dragon, was rushing and roaring out at the barn-door. +I didna ken what to do; I was ready to rush head +foremost into the middle o' the flames, as if that I could hae +crushed them out wi' the weight o' my body; and I am persuaded +that I would hae darted right into the machine loft, +where the flames were bursting through the very tiles, as +frae the mouth o' a volcano, had not my wife, and our eldest +daughter Janet, flewn after me and held me in their arms, +the one crying—'Be calm, William—do naething rashly—let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +us see to save what can be saved;' and the other saying—'Faither! +faither! dinna risk your life.'</p> + +<p>"Now, there was a hard frost owre the entire face o' the +ground, and there wasna a drop o' water to be got within a +quarter o' a mile; and the whole o' my year's crop, with, the +exception o' what had that day been thrashed, was in the +stackyard. I shouted at the pitch of my voice for assistance, +but the devouring flames soon roared louder than I did. +Kirsty, wi' her usual presence o' mind, began to clear away +the straw from around the barn, to prevent the fire from +spreading, and she called upon the bairns and me to follow +her example. She also ordered a laddie to set the horses out +o' the stables, and the nowt oot o' the 'courtine,' and drive +them into a field, where they would be oot o' danger. A' +our neighbours round aboot, in a short time arrived to our +assistance; but a' our combined efforts were unavailing. +The wood wark o' the machine was already on fire—the barn +roof fell in, and up flew such a volley o' smoke and firmament +o' fire as man had never witnessed. The sparks ascended in +millions upon millions; and as they poured down again +like a shower o' fire, every stack that I had broke into a +blaze, and the whole produce o' my farm, corn, straw, and hay +became as a burning fiery furnace. It became impossible +for ony living thing to remain in the stackyard. From +end to end, and round and round, it was one fierce and awful +flame. The heat was scorching, and the dense smoke was +baith blinding and suffocating. Every person was obliged +to flee from it. The very cattle in the field ran about in +confusion, and moaned wi' terror, and the horses neighed wi' +fright, and pranced to and fro. I stood at a distance, as +motionless as a dead man, gazing wi' horror upon the terrific +scene o' desolation, beholding the destruction o' my property—the +burning up, as I may say, o' a' my prospects. +The teeth in my head chattered thegither, and every joint in +my body seemed oot o' its socket; and the raging o' destruction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +in the stackyard was naething to the raging o' misery +in my breast; and especially because I coudna banish frae +my brain the awfu' thought that the hand o' the wife o' my +bosom had lighted the conflagration. While I was standing +in this state o' speechless agony, and some around about me +were pitying me, while others in whispers said—'He had +nae business to get a thrashing machine, and the thing woudna +hae happened,' Kirsty came forward to me, and takin' me +by the hand, said—'William, dinna be silly—appear like a +man before folk. Our loss is nae doubt great, but in time +we may get ower it; and be thankfu' that it is nae waur +than it is like to be—for your wife and bairns are spared to +ye, and we have escaped unskaithed.'</p> + +<p>"'Awa, ye descendant o' Judas Iscariot!' cried I; 'dinna +speak to me!'</p> + +<p>"'William,' said she, calmly, 'what infatuation possesses +ye, man?—dinna mak a fool o' yoursel'.'</p> + +<p>"'Awa wi' ye!' cried I, perfectly shaking wi' rage.</p> + +<p>"'Dear me!' I heard a neighbour remark to another; +'how gruffly he speaks to Kirsty! I aye thought that she +had the upperhand o' him, but it doesna appear by his manner +o' speaking to her.'</p> + +<p>"Distracted, wretched, and angry as I was, I experienced +a sort o' secret pleasure at hearing the observation. I had +shewn them that I wasna a slave tied to my wife's apron-strings, +as they supposed me to be. Kirsty left me wi' a +look that had baith scorn and pity in it. But oor auldest +lassie, my bonny fair-haired Janet—to look upon whose +face I always delighted beyond everything on earth—came +running forward to me; and throwing her arms about my neck, +sobbed wi' her face upon my breast, and softly whispered—'Dinna +stand that way, faither, a' body is looking at ye; and +dinna speak harshly to my poor mother—she is distressed +enough without you being angry wi' her.' I bent my head +upon my bairn's shouther, and the tears ran doun my cheeks.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By this time, everything was oot o' the house; and the +fire was prevented from reaching it, chiefly through the +daring exertions o' a hafflins laddie, whose name was James +Patrick, who was the son o' a neebor farmer, and who, +though no aboon seventeen years o' age, I observed was very +fond o' oor bonny Janet; for I had often observed the young +creatures wandering in the loaning thegither; and when ye +mentioned the name o' the ane before the other, the blood +rose to their face.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, the stackyard, barn, byres, and stables, +presented a fearful picture o' devastation. There was naething +to be seen but the still smoking heaps o' burnt straw +and roofless buildings, wi' wreck and ruin to the richt hand +and to the left. Some thought that the calamity would +knock me aff my feet, and cause me to become a broken +man—and I thought myself that that would be its effect. +But Kirsty was determined that we should never sink while +we had a finger to wag to keep us aboon the water. Cheap +as she had always maintained the house, she now keepit it +at almost no expense whatever. For more than two years, +nothing was allowed to come into it but what the farm produced, +and what we had within ourselves, neither in meat +nor in claething.</p> + +<p>"But though I witnessed all her exertions, nothing +could satisfy my mind that she was not the cause o' the +destruction o' the machine, and through it o' all that was +in and about the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'stack-yard'">stackyard</ins>. The idea haunted me perpetually, +and rendered me miserable, and I could not look +upon my wife without saving to mysel—'Is it possible that +she could hae been guilty o' such folly and great wickedness.' +I was the more confirmed in my suspicion, because +she never again mentioned the subject o' the machine in +my hearing, neither would she allow it to be spoken aboot +by ony ane else.</p> + +<p>"What gratified me maist, during the years that we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +to undergo privation, was the cheerfulness wi' which all the +bairns submitted to it; and I couldna deny that it was +solely to her excellent manner o' bringing them up. Our +Janet, who was approaching what may be called womanhood, +was now talked o' through the hale country-side for +her beauty and sweet temper; and it pleased me to observe, +that, during our misfortune, the attentions o' James Patrick +(through whose skilful exertions oor house was saved frae +the conflagration) increased. It was admitted, on all hands, +that a more winsome couple were never seen in Nithsdale.</p> + +<p>"Oor auldest son, David, who was only fifteen months +younger than his sister, had also grown to be o' great assistance +to me. Before he was seventeen he was capable o' +man's work, which enabled me to do with a hind less than +I had formerly employed. My landlord, also, was very +considerate; and, the first year after the burning, he gave +me back the half o' the rent, which I, with great difficulty, +had been able to scrape thegether. But when I went hame, +and, in the gladness o' my heart, began to count down the +money upon the table before Kirsty and the bairns, and to +tell them how good the laird had been—'Tak it up, William!' +cried she, 'tak it up, and gang back wi' it—he would +consider it an obligation a' the days o' our lives. I will be +beholden to neither laird nor lord! nor shall ony ane belonging +to me—sae, tak back the money, for it isna +ours!'</p> + +<p>"'Bless me!' thought I, 'but this is something very remarkable. +This is certainly another proof that she really +is at the bottom o' the fire-raising. It is the consciousness +o' her guilt that makes her shudder at and refuse the kind kindness +o' the laird.'</p> + +<p>"'It is braw talking, Kirsty,' said I, 'but I see nae +necessity for persons that hae been visited wi' a misfortune +such as we met wi', and wha hae suffered sae much on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +account o' it, to let their pride do them an injury or exceed +their discretion. Consider that we hae a rising family to +provide for.'</p> + +<p>"'Consider what ye like,' quoth she, 'but, if ye accept +the siller, consider what will be the upshot. Ye would hae +to be hat in hand to him at all times and on all occasions. +Yer very bairns would be, as it were, his bought slaves. +No, William, tak back the money—I order ye!'</p> + +<p>"'Ye <i>order</i> me!' cried I, 'there's a guid ane!—and where +got ye authority to order me. If ye will hae the siller taen +back, tak it back yersel.'</p> + +<p>"Without saying another word, she absolutely whipped +it off the table, every plack and bawbee, into her apron; +and, throwing on her rockelay and hood, set aff to the laird's +wi' it, where, as I was afterwards given to understand, she +threw it down upon his table wi' as little ceremony as she +had sweept it aft' mine.</p> + +<p>"Ye may weel imagine that baith my astonishment +and vexation were very considerable. I had seen a good +deal o' Kirsty, but the act o' taking back the siller +crowned a'!</p> + +<p>"'Losh!' said I, in the pure bitterness o' my spirit, 'that +caps a'!—that is even worse than destroying the machine, +wi' the stacks and stabling into the bargain!'</p> + +<p>"'What do ye mean about destroying the machine, +faither?' inquired Janet and David, almost at the same +instant—'who do ye say destroyed it?'</p> + +<p>"'Naebody,' said I, angrily, 'naebody!'—for I found I +had said what I ought not to hae said.</p> + +<p>"'Really, faither,' said Janet, 'whatever it may be that +ye think and hint at, I am certain that ye do my mother a +great injustice if ye harbour a single thought to her prejudice. +It may appear rather proud-spirited her takin back +the siller, though I hae na doubt, in the lang run, but we'll +a' approve o' it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>'</p> + +<p>"'That is exactly what I think, too,' said David.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, nae dout!' said I, 'nae dout o' that!—for she +has ye sae learned, that everything she does, or that ony o' +ye does, is always right; and whatever I do must be +wrang!' and I went oot o' the house in a pet, driving the +door behind me, and thinking about the machine and the +loss o' the siller.</p> + +<p>"Hooever, I am happy to say, that although Kirsty did +tak back the money to the laird and leave it wi' him, yet, +as I have already hinted to ye, through her frugal management, +within a few years we got the better o' the burning. +But there is a saying, that some folk are no sooner weel +than they're ill again—and I'm sure I may say that at that +time. I no sooner got the better o' the effects o' ae calamity, +until another overtook me. Ye hae heard what a +terrible dirdum the erecting o' toll-bars caused throughout +the country, and upon the Borders in particular. Kirsty +was one o' those who cried oot most bitterly against them. +She threatened, that if it were attempted to place ane within +ten miles o' oor farm, she would tear it to pieces with her +ain hands.</p> + +<p>"'Here's a bonny time o' day, indeed!' said she, 'that a +body canna gang for a cart-load o' coals or peats, or tak their +corn, or whatever it may be, to the market, but they must +pay whatever a set o' Justices o' the Peace please to charge +them for the liberty o' driving along the road. Na, na! +the roads did for our faithers before us, and they will do for +us. They went alang them free and without payment, and +so will we; for I defy any man to claim, what has been a +public road for ages, as his property. Only submit to such +an imposition, and see what will be the upshot. But, rather +than they shall mak sic things in this neighbourhood, I will +raise the whole countryside.'</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately in this, as in everything else, she verified +her words. A toll-bar was erected within half-a-mile o'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +oor door Kirsty was clean mad about it. She threatened +not only to break the yett to pieces, but to hang +the toll-keeper owre the yett-post if he offered resistance. +I thought o' my machine, and said little; and the more +especially because every ane, baith auld and young, and +through the whole country, so far as I could hear, were +o' the same sentiments as Kirsty. There never was onything +proposed in this kingdom that was mair unpopular. +And, I am free to confess, that, with regard to the injustice +o' toll-bars, I was precisely o' the same way o' thinkin' as +my wife—only I by no means wished to carry things to the +extremes that she wished to bring them to.</p> + +<p>"I ought to tell ye, that our laird was more than suspected +o' being the principal cause o' us having a toll-bar +placed so near us, so that we could neither go to lime, coals, +nor market, without gaun through it. I was, therefore, +almost glad that my wife had taken back the siller to him, +lest—as I was against raising a disturbance about the +matter—folk should say that my hands and tongue were +tied wi' the siller which he had given me back; for, if I +didna wish to be considered the slave o' my wife, as little +did I desire to be thought the tool o' my landlord. But, ae +day, I had been in at Dumfries in the month o' July, selling +my wool; I had met wi' an excellent market, and a +wool-buyer from Leeds and I got very hearty thegether. He +had bought from me before; and, on that day, he bought +all that I had. I knew him to be an excellent man, though +a keen Yorkshireman—and, ye ken, that the Yorkshire folk +and we Scotchmen are a gay tight match for ane anither—though +I believe, after a', they rather beat us at keeping +the grip o' the siller; but as I intended to say, I treated +him, and he treated me, and a very agreeable day we had. +I recollect when he was pressing me to hae the other gill, +I sang him a bit hamely sang o' my ain composing. Ye +shall hear it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + +<div style="padding-left:25%"> +Nay, dinna press, I winna stay,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For drink shall ne'er abuse me;</span><br /> +It's time to rise and gang away—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sae neibors ye'll excuse me.</span><br /> +<br /> +It's true I like a social gill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A friendly crack wi' cronies;</span><br /> +But I like my wifie better still,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our Jennies an' our Johnnies.</span><br /> +<br /> +There's something by my ain fireside—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A saft, a haly sweetness;</span><br /> +I see, wi' mair than kingly pride,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My hearth a heaven o' neatness</span><br /> +<br /> +Though whisky may gie care the fling,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's triumph's unco noisy;</span><br /> +A jiffy it may pleasure bring,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But comfort it destroys aye.</span><br /> +<br /> +But I can view my ain fireside<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi' a' a faither's rapture;—</span><br /> +Wee Jenny's hand in mine will slide,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While Davy reads his chapter.</span><br /> +<br /> +I like your company and yer crack,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But there's ane I loo dearer,</span><br /> +Ane wha will sit till I come back,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wi' ne'er a ane to cheer her.</span><br /> +<br /> +A waff o' joy comes owre her face<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moment that she hears me;</span><br /> +The supper—a' thing's in its place,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' wi' her smiles she cheers me.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>However, I declare to you, it was very near ten o'clock +before I left the house we are sitting in at present, and put +my foot in the stirrup. But, as my friend Robin says—</p> + + +<p><span style="padding-left:25%">'Weel mounted on my grey mare Meg,'<br /></span></p> + + +<p>I feared for naething; and, though I had sixteen lang Scots +miles to ride, I thought naething aboot it; for, as he says +again—</p> + +<div style="padding-left:25%"> +'Kings may be great, but I was glorious,<br /> +Owre a' the ills o' life victorious!'<br /> +</div> + +<p>But, just as I had reached within about half a mile o' the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +toll-bar that had been erected near my farm, I saw a sort o' +light rising frae the ground, and reflected on the sky. My +heart sank within me in an instant. I remembered the +last time I had seen such a light. I thought o' my burning +stackyard, o' my ruined machine, and o' Kirsty! My first +impulse was to gallop forward, but a thousand thoughts, a +thousand fears cam owre me in an instant; and I thought +that evil tidings come quick enough o' their ain accord, +without galloping to meet them. As I approached the toll-bar, +the flame and the reflection grew brighter and brighter; +and I heard the sound o' human voices, in loud and discordant +clamour. My forebodings told me, to use Kirsty's +words, what would be the upshot. I hadna reached +within a hundred yards o' the bar, when, aboon a' the +shouting and the uproar, I heard her voice, the voice o' my +ain wife, crying—'Mak him promise that it shall ne'er be +put up again—mak him swear to it—or let his yett gang +the gaet o' the toll-yett!'</p> + +<p>"In a moment all that I had dreaded I found to be +true. At the sound o' her voice, hounding on the enraged +multitude, (though I didna altogether disapprove o' what +they were doing,) I plunged my spurs into my horse, and +galloped into the middle o' the outrageous crowd, crying—'Kirsty! +I say, Kirsty! awa hame wi' ye! What right or +what authority had ye to be there?'</p> + +<p>"'Hear him! hear him!' cried the crowd, 'Willie has +turned a toll-bar man, and a laird man, because the Laird +once offered him the half o' his rent back again! Never +mind him, Kirsty!—we'll stand yer friends!'</p> + +<p>"'I thank ye, neighbours,' said she, 'but I require nae +body to stand as friends between my guidman and me. +I ken it is my duty to obey him, that is, when he is +himsel', and comes hame at a reasonable time o' nicht; but +not when he is in a way that he doesna ken what he's +saying, as he is the nicht.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Weel done, Mistress Wastle!' cried a dozen o' them; +'we see ye hae the whip-hand o' him yet!'</p> + +<p>"'The mischief tak ye!' cried I, 'for a wheen ill-mannered +scoundrels; but I'll let every mother's son and +dochter among ye ken whase hand the whip is in!'</p> + +<p>"And, wi' that, I began to lay about me on every side; +but, before I had brought the whip half-a-dozen o' times +round my head, I found that the horse was out from under +me; and there was I wi' my back upon the ground, while, +on the one side, was a heavy foot upon my breast, and, on +the other, Kirsty threatening ony ane that would injure a +hair o' her husband's head; and my son David and James +Patrick rushing forward, seized the man by the throat that +had his foot upon my breast, and, in an instant, they had him +lying where I had lain; for they were stout, powerfu' lads.</p> + +<p>"But when I got upon my feet, and began to recover from +the surprise that I had met wi', there did I see the laird +himsel, standing trembling like an ash leaf in the middle o' +the unruly mob—and, as ringleader o' the whole, my wife +Kirsty shaking her hand in his face, and endeavouring to +extort from him a promise, that there never should be another +toll-bar erected upon his grounds, while he was laird!</p> + +<p>"'Kirsty!'I exclaimed, 'what are ye after? Are ye mad?'</p> + +<p>"'No, William!' cried she, ' I am not mad, but I am +standing out for our rights against injustice; and sorry am +I to perceive that, at a time when everybody is crying out +and raising their hand against the oppression that is attempted +to be practised upon them, my guidman should be +the only coward in the countryside.'</p> + +<p>"'William Wastle!' said the terrified laird, whom some +o' them were handling very roughly, (and principally, I must +confess, at the instigation o' Kirsty,) 'I am glad to see that +I have one tenant upon my estate who is a true man; and +I ask your protection.'</p> + +<p>"'Such protection as I can afford, sir,' said I, 'ye shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +have; but, after the rough handling winch I have experienced +this very moment, I dout it is not much that is in +my power to afford ye.'</p> + +<p>"'Get yer faither awa to his bed, bairns!' cried my wife, +as I was driving my way through the crowd to the assistance +o' the laird; and I'll declare, if my son David, and +James Patrick, didna actually come behind me, and, lifting +me aff my feet, carried me shouther-high a' the way to my +bedroom; and, in spite o' my threats, expostulations, and +commands, locked me into it.</p> + +<p>"Weel, thought I, as I threw myself down upon the bed, +without taking aff my claes, (partly because I found my +head wanted ballast to tak them aff,) I said unto mysel—'This +comes o' having a wise and headstrong wife, and bairns +o' her way o' bringing up. But if ever I marry again and +hae a family, I shall ken better how to act.'</p> + +<p>"Notwithstanding all that I had undergone and witnessed, +in the space o' ten minutes, I fell fast asleep; and the first +thing that I awoke to recollect—that is, to be conscious o'—was +my daughter Janet rushing to my bedside, and crying—'Faither! +faither! my mother is a prisoner!—my poor +dear mother, and James Patrick also!—and I heard the +laird saying that they would baith be transported, as the +very least that could happen them for last night's work, +which I understand will be punished more severely than +even highway robbery!'</p> + +<p>"I awoke like a man born to a consciousness o' horror, +and o' naething but horror. All that I had seen and heard +and encountered on the night before, was just as a dream +to me, but a dismal dream I trow.</p> + +<p>"'Where is yer mother?' I gasped, 'or what is it that +ye are saying, hinny? and—where is James Patrick?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh!' cried my darling daughter, 'before this time +they are baith in Dumfries jail, for pu'ing down and burning +the toll-yetts, and threatening the life o' the laird. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +everybody says it will gang particularly hard against my +mother and poor James; for, though every one was to blame, +they were what they ca' ringleaders.'</p> + +<p>"I soon recollected enough o' the previous night's proceedings +to comprehend what my daughter said. I hurried +on my claes, and awa I flew to Dumfries. But I ought to +tell ye, that the laird's servants had ridden in every direction +for assistance; and having got three or four constables, and +about a dozen o' the regular military, all armed wi' swords +and pistols, they made poor Kirsty and James Patrick, wi' +about a dozen others, prisoners, and conveyed them to +Dumfries jail.</p> + +<p>"When I was shewn into the prison, Kirsty and James, +and the whole o' them, were together. 'O Kirsty, woman!' +said I, in great distress, 'could ye no hae keepit at hame +while my back was turned! Why hae ye brought the like +o' this upon us? I'm sure ye kenned better! <i>Was the destruction +o' the machine and the stackyard no a warning to +ye!</i>'</p> + +<p>"'William,' answered she, 'what is it that ye mean?—is +this a time to cast upon me yer low-minded suspicions? +Had ye last nicht acted as a man, we micht hae got the +laird to comply wi' our request; but it is through you, and +such as you, that everything in this unlucky country is +gaun to destruction; and sorry am I to say that ill o' ye—for +a kind, a good, and a faithfu' husband hae ye been to +me, William.'</p> + +<p>"'O sir!' said James Patrick, coming forward and taking +me by the hand, 'may I just beg that ye will tak my +respects to yer dochter Janet; and, I hope, that whatever +may be the issue o' this awkward affair, that she will in no +way look down upon me, because I happen to be as a sort +o' prisoner in a jail.' My heart rose to my mouth, and I +hadna a word to say to either my wife or him.</p> + +<p>"'Weel," said I, as I left them, 'I must do the best I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +can to bring baith o' ye aff; and, to accomplish it, the best +lawyers in a' Scotland shall be employed.'</p> + +<p>"But to go on—at a very great expense, I, and the faither +o' James Patrick, had employed the very principal advocates +that went upon the Dumfries circuit; and they tauld us +that we had naething to fear, and that we might keep ourselves +quite at ease.</p> + +<p>"I was glad that my son David hadna been seized and +imprisoned, as weel as his mother and James Patrick, for +he also had been ane o' the ringleaders in the breaking doun +and burning o' the toll-bars, and in the assault upon the +laird. But he escaped apprehension at the time, and I +suppose they thought that they had enough in custody to +answer the ends o' justice and the law, and, therefore, he +was permitted to remain unmolested.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, comes the most melancholy part o' my story. +I had a quantity o' wool to deliver to the Yorkshire buyer, +I hae already mentioned, upon a certain day. My son +David was to drive the carts wi' it to Annan. It was sair +wark, and he had but little sleep for a fortnight thegether. +It caused him to travel night and day, load after load. Now, +I needna tell ye, that at that period the roads were literally +bottomless. The horse just went plunge, plunging, and the +cart jerking, now to ae side, and now to another, or giein a +shake sufficient to drive the life out o' ony body that was +in it. Now, the one wheel was on a hill, and the other in +a hollow; or, again, baith were up to the axle-tree in mud, +or the horse half-swimming in water! And yet people cried +out against toll-bars! But, as I hae been telling ye, my +son David had driven wool to Annan for a fortnight, and +he was sair worn out. The roads were in a dreadful state—worse +than if, now-a-days, ye were to attempt to drive +through a bog.</p> + +<p>"Ae night, when he was expected hame, his sister Janet, +and mysel' sat lang up waiting upon him, and wondering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +what could be keeping him, when a stranger rode up to the +door, and asked if 'one Mr William Wastle lived there?' I +replied 'Yes!' And, oh! what think ye were his tidings, +but that my name had been seen upon the carts, that the +horses had stuck fast in the roads, and that my son David, +who had fallen from the shafts, had either been killed, or +drowned among the horses' feet!</p> + +<p>"I thought his brothers and sisters, and especially Janet, +would have gane oot o' their judgment. As for me, a' the +trials I had had were but as a drap in a bucket when compared +wi' this!</p> + +<p>"But, after I had mourned for a night, the worst was +to come. Hoo was I to tell his poor imprisoned mother!—imprisoned +as she wis for opposing the very thing that +would hae saved her son's life!</p> + +<p>"Next day I went to Dumfries; but I declare that I never +saw the light o' the sun hae sic a dismal appearance. The +fields appeared to me as if I saw them through a mist. +Even distance wasna as it used to be. I was admitted into +the prison, but I winna—oh no! I canna repeat to ye the +manner in which I communicated the tidings to his mother! +It was too much for her then—it would be the same for me +now! for naething in the whole coorse o' my life ever shook +me so much as the death o' my poor David. But I remember +o' saying to her, and I declare to you upon the word o' +a man, unthinkingly—'O Kirsty, woman! had we had toll-bars, +David might still hae been living!'</p> + +<p>"'William, William!' she cried, and fell upon my neck, +'will ye kill me outright!' And, for the first time in my +life, I saw the tears gushing down her cheeks. Those tears +washed away the very remembrance o' the machine, and +the burning o' the stacks. I pressed her to my heart, and +my tears mingled wi' hers.</p> + +<p>"I believe it was partly through our laird that baith +Kirsty and James Patrick were liberated without being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +brought to a trial. Her imprisonment, and the death o' our +son, had wrought a great change upon my wife; and I +think it was hardly three months after her being set at +liberty, that we were baith sent for to auld John Neilson +the barnman's, whose wife Peggy lay upon her death-bed. +When we approached her bedside, she raised herself upon +her elbow, and said—'The burning o' yer barn and stackyard +has always been a mystery—hear the real truth from +the words o' a dying and guilty woman. Yer machine had +thrown my husband out o' employment, and when yer wife +there gied me back the pipe, a whuff o' which I said would +do her good, <i>I let the burning dottle drap among the straw</i>—nane +o' ye observed it—ye were a' leaving the barn. Now, +ye ken the cause—on my death-bed I make the confession.'</p> + +<p>"I declare I thought my heart would hae louped out o' +my body. I pressed my wife, against whom I had harboured +such vile suspicions, to my breast. She saw my +meaning—she read my feelings.</p> + +<p>"'William,' said she, kindly, 'if ye hae onything on yer +mind that ye wish to forget, so hae I; let us baith forget +and forgie!'</p> + +<p>"I felt Kirsty's bosom heaving upon mine, and I was +happy.</p> + +<p>"Within six months after this, James Patrick and our +dochter Janet were married; and an enviable couple they +then were, and such they are unto this day. And, as for +my Kirsty, auld though she is, and though the sang says—</p> + +<p> +'I wadna gie a button for her,'<br /> +</p> + +<p>auld, I say, as she is, and wi' a' her faults, I would gie a' +the buttons upon my coat for her still, and a' the siller that +ever was in my pouch into the bargain."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE STONE-BREAKER.</h2> + + +<p>If any of our readers had had occasion to go out, for a +couple of miles or so, on the road leading from Edinburgh +to the village of Carlops, any time during the summer of +the year 1836, they would have seen a little old man—very +old—employed in breaking metal for the roads. The +exact spot where <i>we</i> saw him, was at the turn of the eastern +shoulder of the Pentland Hills; but the nature of his employment +rendering him somewhat migratory, he may have +been seen by others in a different locality. In the appearance +of the old stone-breaker, there was nothing particularly +interesting—nothing to attract the attention of the +passer-by—unless it might be his great age. This, however, +certainly was calculated to do so; and when it did, it +must have been accompanied by a painful feeling at seeing +one so old and feeble still toiling for the day that was passing +over him; and toiling, too, at one of the most dreary, +laborious, and miserable occupations which can well be conceived. +Had the old man no children who could provide +for the little wants of their aged parent, without the necessity +of his still labouring for them—who could secure him +in that ease which exhausted nature demanded? It appeared +not. Perhaps it was a spirit of independence that +nerved his weak arm, and kept him toiling so far beyond +the usual term of human capability. Probably the proud-spirited +old man would break no bread but that which he +had earned by the sweat of his brow and the labour of his +hands. Perhaps it was so. At any rate, this we know, that, +at the early hour of five in the morning, as regularly as the +morning came, the old stone-breaker had already commenced +his monotonous labour. But this was not all. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +also, by this early hour, walked upwards of four miles—for +so far distant was the scene of his occupation from the +place of his residence, Edinburgh. He must, therefore, +have left home between three and four o'clock, and this was +his daily round, without intermission, without variation, +and without relaxation. A bottle of butter-milk and a +penny loaf formed each day's sustenance. His daily earnings, +labouring from five in the morning till six at night, +averaged about ninepence! Hear ye this, ye who ride in +emblazoned carriages! Hear ye this, ye loungers on the +well-stuffed couch!—and hear it, ye revellers at the festive +board, who have never toiled for the luxuries ye enjoy! +Hear it, and think of it! But of this person we have other +things to tell; and to these we proceed.</p> + +<p>One morning, just after he had commenced the labours of +the day, a young man, of about four or five and twenty +years of age, accosted him, wished him a good morning, +and seated himself on the heap of broken metal on which +the old man was at work, and did so seemingly with the +intention of entering into conversation with him. This was +a proceeding to which the latter was much accustomed, it +being a frequent practice with the humbler class of wayfarers. +The advances of the stranger, therefore, in the present +instance, did not for a moment interrupt his labours, or +slacken his assiduity. He hammered on without raising his +head, even while returning the greetings that were made him.</p> + +<p>"A delightful view from this spot," said the young man, +breaking in upon a silence which had continued for some +time after the first salutations had passed between them.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the old man, drily; and, continuing his +operations, he again relapsed into his usual taciturnity; for, +in truth, he was naturally of a morose and uncommunicative +disposition. Undeterred by his cold, repulsive manner, +the stranger again broke silence, and said, with a deep-drawn +sigh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"How I envy these little birds that hop so joyously from +spray to spray! Their life is a happy one. Would to God +I were one of them!"</p> + +<p>The oddness of the expressions, and the earnestness with +which they were pronounced, had an effect on the labourer +which few things had. They induced him to pause in his +work, to raise his head, and to look in the face of the +speaker, which he did with a smile of undefinable meaning. +It was the first full look he had taken of him, and it +discovered to him a countenance open and pleasing in its +expression, but marked with deep melancholy, and telling, +in language not to be misunderstood, a tale of heart-sickness +of the most racking and depressing kind.</p> + +<p>"Has your lot been ill cast, young man, that ye envy +the bits o' burds o' the air the freedom and the liberty that +God has gien them?" said the old man, eyeing the stranger +scrutinizingly, with a keen, penetrating grey eye, that had +not even yet lost all its fire.</p> + +<p>"It has," replied the latter. "I have been unfortunate +in the world. I have struggled hard with my fate, but it +has at length overwhelmed me."</p> + +<p>The old man muttered something unintelligibly, and, +without vouchsafing any other reply, resumed his labours. +After another pause of some duration, which, however, he +had evidently employed in <i>thinking</i> on the declaration of +unhappiness which had just been made him—</p> + +<p>"Some folly o' your ain, young man, very likely," said +he, carelessly, and still knapping the stones, whose bulk it +was his employment to reduce.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the young man, blushing; but it was a +blush which he who caused it did not see. "I cannot +blame myself."</p> + +<p>"Nae man does," interposed the stone-breaker; "he aye +blames his neighbours."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," rejoined the stranger; "but you will +allow that it is perfectly possible for a man to be unfortunate +without any fault on his own part."</p> + +<p>"I hae seldom seen't," replied the ungracious and unaccommodating +old man; and he hammered on.</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps so," said the youth; "but I hope you +will not deny that such things <i>may</i> be."</p> + +<p>"Canna say," was the brief, but sufficiently discouraging +rejoinder.</p> + +<p>"Then let us drop the subject," said the stranger, smilingly. +"Each will still judge of the world by his own experience. +But, methinks, your own case, my friend, is a +hard enough one. To see a man of your years labouring at +this miserable employment, is a painful sight. Your debt +to fortune is also light, I should believe."</p> + +<p>"I hae aye trusted mair to my ain industry than to fortune, +young man. I never pat it in her power to jilt me. +I never trusted her, and therefore, she has never deceived +me; so her and me are quits." And the old man plied +away with his long, light hammer.</p> + +<p>"Yet your earnings must be scanty?"</p> + +<p>"I dinna compleen o' them."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not; but will you not take it amiss my offering +this small addition to them?" And he tendered him a +half-crown piece. "I have but little to spare, and that +must be my apology for offering you so trifling a gift."</p> + +<p>The man here again paused in his operations, and again +looked full in the face of the stranger, but without making +any motion towards accepting the proffered donation.</p> + +<p>"I thocht ye said ye war in straits, young man," he said, +and now resting his elbow on the end of his hammer.</p> + +<p>"And I said truly," replied the former, again colouring.</p> + +<p>"Then hoo come ye to be sportin yer siller sae freely? +I wad hae thocht ye wad hae as muckle need o' a half-croon +as I hae?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may," replied the stranger; "but that's not +to hinder me from feeling for others, nor from relieving +their distresses so far as I can."</p> + +<p>"Foolish doctrine, young man, an' no' for this warl. +It's nae wunner that ye're in difficulties. I guessed the faut +was yer ain, and noo I'm sure o't. Put up yer half-croon, +sir. I dinna tak charity."</p> + +<p>"I hope, however, I have not offended you by the offer? +It was well meant."</p> + +<p>"Ou, I daresay—I'm no the least offended; but tak an +auld man's advice, an' dinna let yer feelins hae the command +o' yer purse-strings, otherwise ye'll never hae muckle +in't."</p> + +<p>And the churlish old stone-breaker resumed his labours, +and again relapsed into taciturnity. Silent as he was, however, +it was evident that he was busily thinking, although +none but himself could possibly tell what was the subject +of his thoughts; but this soon discovered itself. After a +short time, he again spoke—</p> + +<p>"What may the nature an' cause o' yer defeeculties be, +young man, an' I may speer?" he said—"and I fancy I +may, since ye hae been sae far free on the subject o yer ain +accord."</p> + +<p>"That's soon told," replied the stranger. "Three years +ago, an aunt, with whom I was an especial favourite, left +me two hundred and fifty pounds. "With this sum I set +up in business in Edinburgh in the ironmongery line, to +which I was bred. My little trade prospered, and gradually +attained such an extent that I found I could not do +without an efficient assistant, who should look after the +shop while I was out on the necessary calls of business. +In this predicament I bethought me of my brother, who +was a year older than myself, and accordingly sent for him +to Selkirkshire, where he resided with our father, assisting +him in his small farming operations; this being the business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +of the latter. My brother came; and, for some time, +was everything I could have wished—sober, regular, and +attentive; and we thus got on swimmingly. This, however, +was a state of matters which was not long to continue. +When my brother had about completed a year with me, I +began to perceive a gradual falling off in his anxiety about +the interests of our little business. I remonstrated with +him on one or two occasions of palpable neglect; but this, +instead of inducing him to greater vigilance, had the effect +only of rendering him more and more careless. But I did +not then know the worst. I did not then know that, in +place of aiding, he was robbing me. This was the truth, +however. He had formed an infamous connection with a +woman of disreputable character, and the consequence was +the adoption of a regular system of plunder on my little +property, to answer the calls which she was constantly +making on my unfortunate relative.</p> + +<p>"About this time I took ill, and, not suspecting the integrity +of my brother, although aware of his carelessness, I +did not hesitate to trust him with the entire conduct of my +affairs. Indeed, I could not help myself in this particular; +he best knowing my business, and being, besides, the natural +substitute for myself in such a case. For three months was +I confined, unable to leave my own room; and, when I did +come out, I found myself a ruined man. In this time, my +brother had appropriated almost every farthing that had +been drawn to his own purposes; and had, moreover, done +the same by some of my largest and best outstanding +accounts; and, to sum up all, he had fled, I knew not +whither, on the day previous to that on which I made my +first appearance in my shop after my recovery. That is +about ten days since."</p> + +<p>"Did the rascal harry ye oot an' oot?" here interposed +the old stone-breaker, knapping away with great earnestness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; there was a little on which he could not lay his +hands—some considerable accounts which are payable only +yearly; there was also some stock in the shop; but these, +of course, are now the property of my creditors."</p> + +<p>"But could ye no get a settlement wi' them, an' go on?" +inquired the other, still knapping away assiduously. "I'm +sure if you stated your case, your creditors wadna be owre +hard on ye."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they might not; but there is one circumstance +that puts it out of my power to make any attempt at arrangement. +There is one bill of fifty pounds, due to a Sheffield +house, on which diligence has been raised, and on which I +am threatened with instant incarceration. In truth, it is +this proceeding that has brought me here so early this morning. +I expected to have been taken in my bed, as the +charge was out yesterday, and I am here to keep out of the +way of the messengers. I am thus deprived of the power +of helping myself—of taking any steps towards the adjustment +of my affairs."</p> + +<p>"An' could ye do any guid, think ye, if that debt wur +paid, or in some way arranged?" inquired the other.</p> + +<p>"I think I could;" said the party questioned. "My good +outstanding debts are yet considerable, and so is the stock +in the shop; so that, had a little time been allowed me, I +could have got round. But all that is knocked on the head, +by the impending diligence against me. That settles the +matter at once, by depriving me of the necessary liberty to +go about my affairs."</p> + +<p>"It's a pity," said the man, drily. "Wha's the man o' +business in Edinburgh that thae Sheffield folk hae employed +to prosecute ye? What ca' ye him?"</p> + +<p>"Mr Langridge."</p> + +<p>"Ou ay, I hae heard o' him. An will he no gie ye ony +indulgence?"</p> + +<p>"He cannot. His instructions are imperative, otherwise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +he would, I am convinced; for he is an excellent sort of +man, and knows all about me and my affairs. Indeed, so +willing was he to have assisted me, that, when the bill was +first put into his hands, he wrote to his clients, strongly +recommending lenient measures and bearing testimony, on +his own knowledge, to the hardship of my case; but their +reply was brief and peremptory. It was to proceed against +me instantly, and threatening him with the loss of their +business if he did not. For this uncompromising severity +they assigned as a reason, their having been lately 'taken +in,' as they expressed it, to a large extent, by a number +of their Scotch customers. So Mr. Langridge had no alternative +but to do his duty, and let matters take their course."</p> + +<p>"True," replied the monosyllabic stone-breaker. It was +all he said, or, if he had intended to say more, which, however, +is not probable, no opportunity was afforded him; +for at this moment three labouring men of his acquaintance, +who were on their way to their work, came up and +began conversing. On this interruption taking place, the +young man rose, wished him a good morning, which was +merely replied to by a slight nod, and went his way.</p> + +<p>At this point in our story, we change the scene to the +writing chambers of Mr. Langridge, and the time we advance +to the evening of the day on which our tale opens.</p> + +<p>It will surprise the reader to find our old stone-breaker, +still wearing the patched and threadbare clothes, the battered +and torn hat, and the coarse, strong shoes, which had +never rejoiced in the contact of blacking brush, in which +he prosecuted his daily labours, ringing the door-bell of Mr +Langridge's house, about eight o'clock in the evening. It +will still more surprise him, perhaps, to find this man received, +notwithstanding the homeliness, we might have said +wretchedness, of his appearance, by Mr Langridge himself +with great courtesy, and even with a slight air of deference.</p> + +<p>On his entering the apartment in which that gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +was, the latter immediately rose from his seat, and advanced, +with extended hand, towards him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr Lumsden," he exclaimed, "how do you do? I +hope I see you well. Come, my dear sir, take a chair." +And he ran with eager civility for the convenience he named, +and placed it for the accommodation of his visiter.</p> + +<p>When the old man was seated—</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear sir," said Mr Langridge, "I am sorry to +say that <i>your rents</i> have not come so well in this last half-year +as usual. We are considerably short." And the man +of business hurried to a large green painted tin box, that +stood amongst some others on a shelf, and bore on its front +the name of Lumsden, and from this drew forth what appeared +to be a list or rent roll, which he spread out on the +table. "We are considerably short," he said. "There's +six or eight of your folks who have paid nothing yet, and +as many more who have made only partial payments."</p> + +<p>"Ay," said the man, crustily, "what's the meanin' o +that? Ye maun just screw them up, Mr Langridge; for I +canna want my siller, and I winna want it. Hae thae folk +Thamsons, paid yet?"</p> + +<p>"Not a shilling more than you know of," replied Mr +Langridge.</p> + +<p>"Weel, then, Mr Langridge, ye maun just tak the necessary +steps to recover; for I'm determined to hae my rent. +I'm no gaun to aloo mysel' to be ruined this way. They +wadna leave me a sark to my back, if I wad let them. Ye +maun just sequestrate, Mr Langridge—ye maun just sequestrate, +an' we'll help oorsels to payment, since they winna +help us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely, surely, my dear sir. All fair and right. +But I would just mention to you, that though, latterly, +they have been dilatory payers—I would say, shamefully +so—they are yet decent, honest, well-meaning people, these +Thomsons; and that, moreover, there is some reason for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +their having been so remiss of late, although it is, certainly, +none whatever why you should want your rent."</p> + +<p>"No, I fancy no," here interposed the other, with a +triumphant chuckle.</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not," went on Mr Langridge, who seemed +to know well how to manage his eccentric client; "but +only, I would just mention to you, that the <i>reason</i> of the +dilatoriness of the Thomsons, is the husband's having been +unable, from illness, to work for the last three months, and +that, in that time, they have also lost no less than two +children. It is rather a piteous case."</p> + +<p>"An' what hae I to do wi' a' that?" exclaimed the +other, impatiently. "What hae I to do wi' a' that, I wad +like to ken? Am I to be ca'ed on to relieve a' the distress +in the world? That wad be a bonny set o't. Am I to be +robbed o' my richts that others may be at ease? That +I winna, I warrant you. See that ye recover me thae +folk's arrears, Mr Langridge, by hook or by crook, and that +immediately, though ye shouldna leave them a stool to sit +upon. That's <i>my</i> instructions to <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"And they shall be obeyed, Mr Lumsden," replied the +man of business—"obeyed to the letter. I merely mentioned +the circumstance to you, in order that you might be +fully apprized of everything relating to your tenants, which +it is proper you should know."</p> + +<p>"Weel, weel, but there's nae use in troublin' me wi' +thae stories. I dinna want to be plagued wi' folk makin' +puir mouths. There's aye a design on ane's pouch below't. +By the bye, Mr Langridge," continued he, after +a momentary pause, "hae ye a young chield o' an airnmonger +in your hauns enow about some bill or anither that +he canna pay."</p> + +<p>"The name?" inquired Mr Langridge, musingly.</p> + +<p>"Troth that I cannot tell you; for I never heard it, and +forgot to speer."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Let me see—oh, ay—you will mean, I dare say, a +young man of the name of John Reid, poor fellow?"</p> + +<p>"Very likely," said the client; "Is he a young man, an +airnmonger to business, and hae ye diligence against him +enow on a fifty pound bill, due to a Sheffield hoose?"</p> + +<p>"The same," replied Mr Longridge. "These are exactly +the circumstances. How came you, Mr Lumsden," he +added, smilingly, "to be so well informed of them?"</p> + +<p>"I'll maybe explain that afterwards; but, in the meantime, +will ye tell me what sort o' a lad this Mr Reid is? +Is he a decent, weel-doin' young man?"</p> + +<p>"Remarkably so," replied Mr Langridge, "remarkably +so, Mr Lumsden. I can answer for that; for I have known +him now for a good while, and have had many opportunities +of estimating his character."</p> + +<p>"Then hoo cam he into his present difficulties?"</p> + +<p>"Through the misconduct of a brother—entirely through +the misconduct of a brother." And Mr Langridge proceeded +to give precisely the same account of the young +man's misfortunes, and of the present state of his affairs, +that he himself had given to the old stone-breaker, as +already detailed to the reader. When he had concluded—</p> + +<p>"It seems to me rather a hard sort o' case," said the +client. "But could you no help him a wee on the score o' +lenity?"</p> + +<p>"I would willingly do it if I could; but it's not in my +power. My instructions are peremptory. I dare not do it +but with a certainty of losing the business of the pursuers, +the best clients I have."</p> + +<p>"Naething, then, 'll do but payin' the siller, I suppose?" +said the other.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing, I fear. My clients seem quite determined. +They are enraged at some smart losses which +they have lately sustained in Scotland, and will give no +quarter."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I suppose if they <i>war</i> paid, they would be satisfied," +said the stone-breaker.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha! Mr Lumsden, no doubt of <i>that</i>," exclaimed +Mr Langridge, laughing. "That would settle the business +at once."</p> + +<p>"I fancy sae," said the other, musingly. Then, after a +pause—"An' think ye the lad wad get on if this stane were +taen frae aboot his neck?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it—not the least," replied Mr Langridge, +"for I have every confidence in the young man's +industry and uprightness of principle. But he has no +friend to back him, poor fellow: no one to help him out +of the scrape."</p> + +<p>"Ye canna be quite sure o' that, Mr Langridge," said the +old man. "What if I hae taen a fancy to help him mysel?"</p> + +<p>"You, Mr Lumsden!—you!" exclaimed Mr Langridge +in great surprise. "What motive on earth can you have +for assisting him?"</p> + +<p>"I didna say that I meant to assist him—I only asked +ye, what if I took a fancy to do't?"</p> + +<p>"Why, to that I can only say that, if you have, he is all +right, and will get his head above water yet. But you +surprise me, Mr Lumsden, by this interest in Reid. May +I ask how it comes about?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you a' that presently, but I'll first tell you that +I <i>do</i> mean to assist the young man in his straits. I'll advance +the money to pay that bill for him. Will ye see to +that, then, Mr Langridge? Put me doon for the amount oot +o' the funds in your hauns, and stay further proceedins."</p> + +<p>Mr Langridge could not express the surprise he felt on +this extraordinary intimation from a man who, although +there were some good points in his character, notwithstanding +of the outward crust of churlishness in which it +was encased, he never believed capable of any very striking +act of generosity. Mr Langridge, we say, could not express<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +the surprise which this unlooked-for instance of that quality +in Mr Lumsden inspired, nor did he attempt it; +for he justly considered that such expression would be +offensive to the old man, as implying a belief that he had +been deemed incapable of doing a benevolent thing. Mr +Langridge, therefore, kept his feelings, on the occasion, to +himself, and contented himself with promising compliance, +and venturing a muttered compliment or two, which, however, +were ungraciously enough received, on the old man's +generosity.</p> + +<p>"But whar's the young man to be fand?" inquired the +latter.</p> + +<p>"Why, that I cannot well tell you," replied Mr Langridge; +"for I was informed, in the course of the day, by +the messengers whom I employed to apprehend him, that +he had left his lodging early in the morning, no doubt in +order to avoid them, and they could not ascertain where he +had gone to."</p> + +<p>"Humph, that's awkward," replied the client. "I wad +like to find him."</p> + +<p>"I fear that will be difficult," replied Mr Langridge; +"but I will call off the bloodhounds in the meantime, and +terminate proceedings."</p> + +<p>"Ay, do sae, do sae. But can we no get haud o' the lad +ony way?"</p> + +<p>At this moment, a rap at the door of the apartment in +which was Mr Langridge and his client, interrupted further +conversation on the subject.</p> + +<p>"Come in," exclaimed the former.</p> + +<p>The door opened, and in walked two messengers, with +Reid a prisoner between them. We leave it to the reader +to conceive the latter's surprise, on beholding his acquaintance +of the morning, the old stone-breaker, seated in an +arm-chair in Mr Langridge's writing-chamber. But while +he looked this surprise, he also seemed to feel acutely the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +humiliation of his position. After a nod of recognition, he +said, with an attempt at a smile, and addressing himself to +the old man—</p> + +<p>"You see they have got me after all, my friend. But it +was my own doing. On reflection, I saw no use in endeavouring +to avoid them, and gave myself up, at least, threw +myself in their way, in order to encounter the worst at once, +and be done with it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay ye was richt, after a'," replied the stone-breaker; +"it was the best way. Mr Langridge," he added, +and now rising from his seat, "wad ye speak wi' me for a +minnit, in another room?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Mr Lumsden," replied Mr Langridge.</p> + +<p>"Will we proceed with the prisoner?" inquired one of +the messengers.</p> + +<p>"No, remain where you are a moment, till I return;" +and Mr Langridge led the way out of the apartment, followed +by the old stone-breaker. When they had reached +another room, and the door had been secured—</p> + +<p>"Noo, Mr Langridge, anent what I was speaking to ye +about regarding this young man wha has come in sae curiously +upon us, juist whan we were wanting him—I dinna +care to be seen in the matter, sae ye maun juist manag't for +me yersel."</p> + +<p>"Had ye no better enjoy the satisfaction of your own +good deed in person, Mr Lumsden, by telling Mr Reid of +the important service you intend doing him?"</p> + +<p>"I'll do naething o' the kind," replied the old stone-breaker, +testily. "I dinna want to be bothered wi't. Sae +juist pay ye his bill and charges, Mr Langridge, an' keep an +e'e on his proceedins afterwards, an' let me ken frae time to +time hoo he's gettin on."</p> + +<p>With these instructions Mr Langridge promised compliance; +and, on his having done so, the stone-breaker proposed +to depart; but, just as he was about doing so, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +turned suddenly round to his man of business, and +said—</p> + +<p>"About the Tamsons, Mr Langridge, ye needna, for a +wee while, tak thae staps again them that I was speakin +aboot. Let them alane a wee till they get roun a bit."</p> + +<p>"I'll do so, Mr Lumsden," replied the worthy writer, +who, the reader will observe, had accomplished his generous +purpose dexterously. He knew his man, and acted +accordingly.</p> + +<p>"What's their arrears, again?" inquired the other.</p> + +<p>"Half-a-year's rent—£3, 17s.," replied Mr Langridge.</p> + +<p>"Ay, it's a heap o' siller—no to be fan at every dyke +side. An' then, there's this half-year rinning on, an' very +near due. That'll mak—hoo much?"</p> + +<p>"Just £7, 14s. exactly, Mr Lumsden."</p> + +<p>"Ay, exactly," replied the latter, who had been making +a mental calculation of the amount, and had arrived, although +more slowly than his experienced lawyer, at the +same result. "A serious soom," added the client.</p> + +<p>"No trifle, indeed, Mr Lumsden," said Mr Langridge; +"but it's safe enough. They're honest people."</p> + +<p>"Ye'r aye harpin on that string," replied the stone-breaker, +surlily; "but what signifies their honesty to me, if +they'll no pay me my rent?"</p> + +<p>"True, very true," said the law agent. "That's the only +practical honesty."</p> + +<p>"See you an' get thae arrears, at ony rate, oot o' them, +<i>if</i> ye can, Mr Langridge; an', if ye canna, I suppose we +maun juist want them. Ye needna push owre hard for +them either, since they're in the state ye say. But ye'll +surely mak the present half-year oot o' them. That maun +be paid. Mind <i>that</i>, at ony rate, maun be paid, Mr Langridge." +And saying this, he placed his old tattered hat, +which he had hitherto held in his hand, on his head, and +left the house.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<p>On his departure, Mr Langridge hastily entered the apartment +in which, he had left the messengers with their prisoner.</p> + +<p>"We're just waiting marching orders, Mr Langridge," +said the latter, on his entering, and making an attempt at +playfulness, with which his spirit but ill accorded. "My +friends here are getting tired of their charge, and anxious to +be relieved of him."</p> + +<p>"Are they so, Mr Reid?" replied Mr Langridge, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Why, then, we had best relieve them at once." Then +turning to the principal officer—"Quit your prisoner, Maxwell—the +debt is settled. Mr Reid, you are at liberty."</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to poor Reid's face, and then withdrew, +leaving it as pale as death, and yet he could express no +part of the feelings which caused these violent alternations. +At length—</p> + +<p>"Mr Langridge," he said, "what is the meaning of this? +How do I come to be liberated?"</p> + +<p>"By the simplest and most effectual of all processes, Mr +Reid," replied the worthy writer, smiling; "by the payment +of the debt."</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> have not paid the debt, Mr Langridge. I <i>could</i> +not pay the debt."</p> + +<p>"No; but somebody else might. The short and the long +of it is, Mr Reid, that a <i>friend</i> has come forward, and settled +the claim on which diligence was raised against you. The +bill, with interest and all expenses, <i>is</i> paid, and you are +again a free man."</p> + +<p>Again overwhelmed by his feelings, which were a thousand +times more eloquently expressed by a flood of silent +tears than they could have been by the most carefully +rounded periods, it was some time before the young man +could pursue the conversation, or ask for the further information +which he yet intensely longed to possess. On recovering +from the burst of emotion which had, for the +moment, deprived him of the power of utterance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"And <i>who</i>, pray, Mr Langridge, is this friend—this +friend indeed?</p> + +<p>"Why, I do not know exactly whether I am at liberty +to tell you, Mr Reid," replied Mr Langridge. "The friend +you allude to declined transacting this matter personally +with you, which seems to imply that he did not care that +you should know who he was; yet, as he certainly did not +expressly forbid me to disclose him, and as I think it but +right that you should know to whom you are indebted, I +will venture to tell you. Had you some conversation, at an +early hour this morning, with an old stone-breaker, on the +highway side, about three or four miles from town?"</p> + +<p>"I had. The old man that was sitting here when I +came in."</p> + +<p>"The same. Well, what would you think if <i>he</i> should +have been the friend in question? Would you expect from +his manner, that he <i>would</i> do such a thing? or, from his +appearance and occupation, that he could?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not—certainly not. The old man—the poor +old man, to whom I offered half-a-crown—who works for +ninepence a-day—who never saw me in his life before this +morning—who knows nothing of me! Impossible, Mr +Langridge—impossible; he cannot be the man. You do +not say that he is?"</p> + +<p>"But I do though, Mr Reid, and that most distinctly. +It is he, and no other, I assure you, who has done you this +friendly service."</p> + +<p>"Then, if it be so, I know not what to say to it, Mr +Langridge. I can say nothing. I trust, however, I shall +not be found wanting on the score of gratitude. I can say +no more. But will you be so good as inform me, if you +can, how the good man has come to do me so friendly a +service? Who on earth, or what is he?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down, Mr Reid, and I'll answer all your +questions—I'll tell you all about him," replied Mr Langridge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr Reid having complied with this invitation, the latter +began:—</p> + +<p>"The history of the old stone-breaker, my good sir, is a +very short and a very simple one. It contains no vicissitude, +and to few, besides ourselves, would be found possessing +any particular interest. Your friend was, in his youth, +a soldier, and served, I believe, in the American war. At +his return home on the conclusion of that war, he was discharged, +still a young man, and shortly after married a +woman with a fortune" (smilingly) "of some five-and-twenty +or thirty pounds. With this sum the thrifty pair purchased +two or three cows, and commenced the business of cowfeeders. +They prospered; for they were both saving and +industrious, and, in time, realized a considerable sum of +money, which they went on increasing. This they invested +in house property from time to time, till their possessions of +this kind became very valuable.</p> + +<p>"For upwards of forty years they continued in this way, +when Mrs Lumsden died, leaving her husband a lonely +widower; for they had no children. On the death of the +former, the latter, who was now an old man, and unequal to +conducting, alone, the business in which his wife's activity +and industry had hitherto aided him, sold off his cows, and +proposed to live in retirement on the rents of his property; +and this he did for some time. Accustomed, however, to a +life of constant labour and exertion, the old man soon found +the idleness on which he had thrown himself, intolerably +irksome. He became miserable from a mere want of having +something to do. While in this state of ennui, chancing +one day to stroll into the country, (this is what he told +me himself,) he saw some labouring men knapping stones +by the way-side; and strange as the fancy may seem, he +was instantly struck with a desire of taking to this occupation. +He did so, and has, from that day to the present, +now upwards of ten years, pursued it with as much assiduity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +as if it was his only resource for a subsistence. He +has, as I already told you, no family of his own; neither has +he, I believe, any relation living; or, if there be, they must +be very remote; and, as he strictly confines his expenditure +to his daily earnings as a stone-breaker—some ninepence +a-day, I believe—his wealth is rapidly increasing, and is, at +this moment, no trifle, I assure you. Now, my good sir, when +I tell you that I am the law agent of this strange, eccentric +person, and that I manage all his business for him, I have told +you everything about him that is worth mentioning."</p> + +<p>"There is just one thing, Mr Langridge," said Mr Reid, +who had been an attentive listener to the tale just told +him, "that wants explanation: can you give me the smallest +shadow of a reason for the part he has acted towards me?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, there you puzzle me; I cannot. It appears as +unaccountable to me as to you, although I have known Mr +Lumsden now for upwards of fifteen years."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know him do a thing of this kind before?"</p> + +<p>"Never! and I must say candidly, that, although he is +by no means deficient in kindness of heart, notwithstanding +his rough exterior, I did not believe him capable of such an +act of generosity."</p> + +<p>"It is an extraordinary matter," said Mr Reid; "and +although I can have but little right to inquire into the +<i>motives</i> for an act by which I am so largely benefited—it +seems ungracious to do so—yet would I give a good round +sum, if I had it to spare, to know the real cause of this +good man's friendship towards me."</p> + +<p>"Why, that I suspect neither you nor I shall ever know. +I question much, indeed, if the principal actor in this affair +himself could give a reason for what he has done. It seems +to me just one of those odd and unaccountable things which +eccentric men, like Mr Lumsden, will sometimes do; and +with this solution of the mystery, and the benefit it has produced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +to you, I rather think, Mr Reid, you must be content. +I would, however, add, in order to redeem Mr Lumsden's +act of generosity from the character of a mere whim, +that your case was one eminently calculated to excite any +latent feeling of benevolence which he might possess; and +that your manner and appearance—no flattery—are equally +well calculated to second a claim so established. Yourself, +and your peculiar circumstances, in short, had chanced to +touch the right chord in a right man's breast, and hence +the response on which we are speculating."</p> + +<p>Having thus discussed the knotty point of the old stonebreaker's +sudden act of generosity, Mr Langridge invited +Mr Reid to put his affairs into his hands, promising that +they should have the advantage, on his part, of something +more than mere professional zeal. This friendly invitation +the latter gladly accepted, and shortly after consigned all +his business matters to the care of the worthy writer, who +exerted himself in behalf of his client with an efficiency +that soon placed the latter once more in the way of well-doing. +And well he did; having subsequently realised a +very handsome independency. In the success of the young +man, no one rejoiced more than the old stone-breaker, who +frequently visited him in his shop; sometimes merely for +the purpose of seeing him; at others, to purchase some of +those little articles of ironmongery which the due preservation +of his dwelling-house property demanded. Let us state, too, +that, amongst his purchases, were, at different times, the hammer-heads +which he used in his occupation of stone-breaking.</p> + +<p>In their first transaction in this way, there was something +curiously characteristic of the old man's peculiarities +of temper. Mr Reid, not yet perfectly aware of these +peculiarities, declined, for some time, putting any price on +a couple of hammer-heads which his friend had picked out. +He would have made him a present of them; and, to the +latter's inquiry as to their price, replied, evasively, and laughing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +while he spoke, that he would tell him that afterwards.</p> + +<p>"I tak nae credit, young man," said the stone-breaker, +crustily, "tell me enow their cost." And he pulled out a +small greasy leathern purse, and was undoing its strings, +when Mr Reid laid his hand on his arm to prevent him, +at the same time telling him that he would do him a favour +by accepting the hammer-heads in a present. "What is +such a trifle between you and me, Mr Lumsden—you to +whom I owe everything?"</p> + +<p>"You owe me a great deal mair than ye're ever likely +to pay me, at ony rate, young man, if this be the way ye +transact business," replied the other, with evident signs +of displeasure. "Tell me the price o' thae hammer-heads at +ance, an' be dune wi't. I hae nae broo o' folk that fling +awa their guids as ye seem inclined to do."</p> + +<p>Mr Reid blushed at the reproof, but, seeing at once how +the land lay, with regard to his customer's temper, he now +plumply named the price of the hammers, sevenpence each.</p> + +<p>"Sevenpence!" exclaimed the old man. "I'll gie ye +nae such price. Doonricht robbery! I can get them as +guid in ony shop in the toon for saxpence ha'penny. If +ye like to tak that price for them, ye may hae't. If no, ye +can keep them."</p> + +<p>Mr Reid, now knowing his man somewhat better than +he did at first, demurred, but at length agreed to the abatement, +and the transaction was thus brought to a close.</p> + +<p>We need hardly add, that the £50 advanced by the old +man to Mr Reid were subsequently repaid; but the call is +more imperative on us to state, that, on the former's death, +which took place about two years after, the latter found +himself named in his will for a very considerable sum. One, +somewhat larger, was bequeathed by the same document to +Mr Langridge. The remainder was appropriated to various +charities. And here, good reader, ends the story of the +Stone-Breaker.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> +<h2>LAIRD RORIESON'S WILL.</h2> + + +<p>In the little town of Maybole there lived, some fifty years +ago or more, an old man of the name of George Rorieson, +more commonly called Laird Rorieson. He had been a +kind of general merchant, or trafficker in any kind of commodities +which he thought would yield him a profit; and, +by dint of great sagacity, had made some very fortunate +hits, and realised a large sum of money. Having begun the +world with a penny, he was emphatically the maker of his +own fortunes—a circumstance he was very proud of, and +loved to sound in the ears of certain individuals who envied +him his riches. Having amassed his money by an accumulation +of small sums, for a long course of years, he had +gradually become narrower and narrower, as his wealth +increased; and, by the time he arrived at the age of sixty, +his penurious feelings had become so strong and deeprooted +that he could scarcely afford himself the means of a +comfortable subsistence.</p> + +<p>It is almost needless to say that Laird Rorieson never had +courage or liberality of sentiment sufficient to give him an +impulse towards matrimony; and truly it was alleged that he +never oven looked on womankind with any feelings different +from those with which he contemplated his fellow-creatures +generally; and these had always some connection, one way +or another, with making profit of them. But, though he +had no wife, he had a good store of nephews and nieces—somewhere +about twenty—all poor enough, God knows! +but all as hopeful as brides and bridegrooms of a great store +of wealth and bliss being awaiting them on the death of +Uncle Geordie.</p> + +<p>The affection which these twenty nephews and nieces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +shewed to Uncle George was remarkable; but, somehow +or another, the good uncle hated them mortally, and, the +bitterer he became, the more loving they waxed—so that +it was very wonderful to see so much human love and +sympathy thrown away upon an old churl who could +have seen all the devoted creatures at the devil.</p> + +<p>It was indeed alleged that this crabbed miser had no +love for any one, all his affection being expended upon +his money-bags: but we are bound to say that this is not +quite the truth; for there was a neighbour of the name of +Saunders Gibbieson, a bachelor, for whom the Laird really +felt some small twinges of human kindness. Saunders +Gibbieson was as true a Scotchman as ever threw the +pawkie glamour of a twinkling grey eye over the open +face of an English victim. He was, as already said, a +bachelor; but unlike his friend Geordie, he loved the fair +sex, and vowed he would marry the bonniest lass o' Maybole +the moment he was able to sustain her "in bed, board, +and washing." He had scraped together a few pounds, maybe +to the extent of a hundred or two, and looked forward to +making himself happy at no very distant period. He was a +famous hand at a political argument; and there was not a +man in Maybole who could touch him at driving a bargain.</p> + +<p>As already said, Geordie had a kind of feeling towards +Saunders, and there can be no doubt that Saunders had as +strong an affection for the "auld rich grub," as he called +him in his throat, as ever had any of the twenty nephews +and nieces already alluded to. In the evenings he often +went in and sat with him; and, by dint of curious jokes, +"humorous lees," and political anecdotes, he contrived to +wile, for a few minutes, the creature's heart from his +money-bags, and unbend his puckered cheeks and lips into +a species of compromise between a laugh and a grin. +It was no wonder, then, that Geordie had a kind of liking +for Saunders—seeing he got value in amusement from him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +without so much cost as even a piece of old dry cheese, of +a waught of thin ale. On the other hand, it was difficult +to see how Saunders could love the laird; and, indeed, it +was a matter of gossip what could induce a man so much +in request as Saunders Gibbieson to take so much pains in +pouring into the "leather lugs" of an old miser the precious +jokes that would have set the biggest table in Maybole +in a roar.</p> + +<p>Now the time came when Laird Rorieson began to feel +the first touches of that big black angel who loves to hug +so fondly the sons of men. He was ill—he was indeed +very ill—and it would have done any man's heart good to +see the kindness and sympathy which his twenty nephews +and nieces paid him. Every hour one or other of them +was calling at his house; and his ears were regaled by the +sympathetic tones which their love for their dear uncle +wrung from their tender hearts. Oh, it was beautiful to +behold! Such things do credit to our fallen nature. But +the old grub loved it not; and it was even said he cursed +and swore in the very faces of the kind creatures, just as if +they had had an eye on the heavy coffers of gold that lay in +his house. This kindness on the part of his nephews and +nieces was thus converted into a kind of poison; for every +time they called, their uncle got into such a passion that +his remaining strength was well-nigh worn out. But he +had still enough left to sign his name; and the ungrateful +creature resolved upon leaving all his gold to found an hospital. +He sent for a man of the law, and had a consultation +with locked doors, and all things seemed in a fair way +for the poor nephews and nieces being sacrificed for ever.</p> + +<p>This circumstance came to the ears of Saunders Gibbieson, +who had not been an unattentive spectator of the extraordinary +proceedings going on in the house of his neighbour. +As soon as he heard the news, he retired and meditated, +and communed with himself three hours on matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +of deep concernment to him and the generations that might +descend from him. The result of all this study was a resolution +alike remarkable for its eccentricity and sagacity; +but Saunders' spirit dipped generally so deep in the wells of +wisdom that there was no wonder it should come forth +drunk, as it were, with the golden policy of cunning.</p> + +<p>Now, all of a sudden, Saunders grew (as he said) very +ill—as ill indeed, or nearly as ill, as Laird Rorieson himself, +but, so full was he of brotherly love towards his neighbour, +that his sudden illness did not prevent him calling upon the +latter one night, when there seemed to be no great chance +of their being disturbed by any of the sympathetic nephews +and nieces. He found Geordie very weakly, and sat down +by the bedside, to pour the balm of his friendship and consolation +into the sick man's ear. The Laird received him +kindly, and as was his custom, Saunders got him into a +pleasant humour, by telling him something of a curious +nature that had occurred, or had been supposed by Saunders +to have occurred, during the day. He then began the more +important part of his work.</p> + +<p>"You are ill, Laird," said he; "but I question muckle +if ye're sae ill as I am myself. For a long time I've been +in a dwinin way, and, though I hae kept up a fair appearance +and good spirits, I've been gradually getting thinner +and weaker. I fear I'm in a fair way for anither warld."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to hear't," replied the Laird. "It's a sad +thing to dee." And he shook as he uttered the word.</p> + +<p>"Ay, an' it's a sad thing," said Saunders, "to be tormented +in your illness, wi' thae cursed corbies o' puir relations. +The moment I began to complain I've been tormented +wi' a host o' nephews and nieces, wha come and stare +into my hollow een, as if they would count the draps o' blude +that are yet left in my heart."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, are you in that plight too, Saunders?" groaned +the Laird. "The ravens have been croaking owre me for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +twa lang years. They come and perch on the very bedposts, +they croak, they whet their nebs, they look into my +face, and peer into my very heart. It's dreadful—and +there's nae remedy. I've tried to terrify them awa; but +they come aye back again. They've worn me fairly out."</p> + +<p>"I've had many a meditation on the subject, Laird," said +Saunders; "and, between you and me, if there's a goose +quill in a' Scotland, I'll hae a shot at them. I haena +muckle i' the warld—a thousand or twa maybe, hard won, +Geordie, as a' gowd is in thae hard times; but the deil a +plack o't they'll ever touch."</p> + +<p>"Ye'll be to found an hospital?" said the Laird.</p> + +<p>"Na, na," answered Saunders. "I'll found nae beggar's +palace. I've studied political economy owre lang to be +ignorant o' the bad effects o' public charities. They relax +the sinews o' industry, and mak learned mendicants. Besides, +wha thanks the founder o' an hospital for his charity? +Nane!—nane! A puff or twa in the newspapers about +Gibbieson's mortification would be the hail upshot o' my +reward; and sensible folk would set me doun as an auld +curmudgeon, wha hadna heart to love and benefit a friend."</p> + +<p>"There's some truth in that," muttered the Laird. "It's +a pity a body canna tak his gear wi' him. Sair hae I +toiled for it, and, oh! it's miserable! cruel! cruel! that I +should be obliged to leav't to a thankless warld! But +what are ye to do wi'fc, Saivjders?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I'm just to leave it a' to you, Laird," said +Saunders. "I have lang liked ye wi' a' the luve o' honest, +leal friendship; and, after muckle meditation, I canna fix +on a mortal creature wha is mair deservin o't than you, +my guid auld freend. You have a fair chance o' recovering; +I have nane. Ye may enjoy my gear lang after the +turf has grown thegither owre my grave; and God bless +the gift!"</p> + +<p>"Kind, guid man!" cried the Laird, in a voice evincing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +strong emotion, either of love or greed. "That <i>is</i> kindness—ay, +very different frae the friendship o' my sisters' and +brothers' bairns. After a', I believe yer richt, Saunders—an +hospital has nae gratitude; and what have we to do wi' +a cauld and heartless warld?"</p> + +<p>"There's just ae difficulty I hae," said Saunders. "The +will's written and signed; but I dinna weel ken whar to +lay it; for, when I'm dead, thae deevils o' corbies may smell +the bit paper and put it in the fire. Maybe you would tak +the charge o't for me, Laird."</p> + +<p>"Ou ay," answered the Laird. "I'll keep it. The deil +o' are o' them will get it oot o' my clutches."</p> + +<p>"Weel, weel, my dear friend," said Saunders. "I'll put +it into a tin box; the key ye'll find, after my breath's out, +in the little cupboard that's at the foot o' my bed—ye ken +the place. They can mak naething o' the key without the +box; and, if you canna find the key, you can force the box +open. Oh, I would like to see you reading the will in the +midst o' the harpies."</p> + +<p>"That's weel arranged, Saunders; ye can set about it as +soon as you like."</p> + +<p>"I intend to do it instantly, Laird," replied the man. +"I'll about it this moment." And he rose and went out of +the house.</p> + +<p>In a short time, Saunders returned, holding in his hand +a small tin box. He laid it down upon the table, and, taking +out a small key, opened it, and took out a paper, entitled—"Last +Will and Testament."</p> + +<p>"There it is, my good friend," he said; and, replacing the +paper in the box, he locked it and placed it in an escritoire +pointed out by the Laird. He then went away.</p> + +<p>Next day, the lawyer came to carry into effect the +charitable resolution of Laird Rorieson; but he found that +a great change had taken place upon the old man's sentiments. +He was now adverse to a mortification, and said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +he was resolved upon leaving his fortune to one whom he +considered to be a <i>real friend</i>, and, indeed, the only real +friend he had upon earth. The lawyer was surprised when +he ascertained that this friend was Saunders Gibbieson; but +it was not his province to object—so he departed straightway +to carry into effect the new resolution of the testator.</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards, the Laird sent a message to Saunders +to come and speak with him. Saunders obeyed; walking +in to him slowly, and apparently with great effort, as if he +had been labouring under a strong disease.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking again and again, Saunders," said +the Laird, "o' yer great kindness. You are the first man +that ever left me a farthing. The warld has rugged aff me +since ever I had a feather to pick. Nane has ever offered +me either a bite or a sup. You are the only friend I've +ever met upon earth."</p> + +<p>"I hae only obeyed the dictates o' my heart," replied +Saunders; "and I am glad I have dune it, for I feel mysel +very weakly, and fear the clock o' this world's time will be +wound up wi' me in a very short period."</p> + +<p>"Maybe no so sune as ye think, Saunders," replied the +Laird. "But my purpose is executed. Saunders, you are +my heir. Hand me that box there."</p> + +<p>Saunders took up a small mahogany box that lay on the +table, and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>"Here," continued the Laird, taking out a paper; "here +is my will. It's a' in your favour, Saunders—lands, houses, +guids, and chattels, heritable and moveable. Say naething; +you are my heir. Ha! ha! let the corbies croak. You've +dune me a guid service; I winna be ahint ye. Tak the +box into yer ain keeping. I'll keep the key. Awa wi't +this instant. Ha! ha! let the corbies croak."</p> + +<p>Saunders obeyed. He carried the box into his own +house, placed it in his cupboard, locked the door, and put +the key into his pocket.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> + +<p>In about a month afterwards, old Laird Rorieson departed +this life. On the day of his death, his nephews +and nieces were in great commotion, and there was a +terrible running to and fro, and much whispering, and +wondering, and gossiping—all on the great subject of the +death of Uncle Geordie. On the day of his funeral, they +were all collected, to see whether there was any will. They, +of course, wished that there should be none, because they, +being his heirs, would succeed to all, if there was no disposition +of the old man's effects. By some means, Saunders +Gibbieson contrived to be present along with the expectants. +Perhaps he was allowed to be among them in the character +of a witness; but indeed, so certain were the nephews and +nieces of having succeeded in their efforts to please the dear +old man, that they could afford to allow the presence of any +number of witnesses who could vouch for the sacred gravity +of their countenances, and the deep sorrows of their bereaved +hearts. Nor was Saunders less under the affection +of lugubriousness himself; so that it was altogether one of +those beautiful sights so often witnessed on such melancholy +occasions, where every indication of selfishness is banished, +and nothing can be observed save that Christian solemnity +which proveth that "the devil hath been cast out of the +heart of man, even when he did appear to be strong." The +nephews and the nieces looked at Saunders, and Saunders +looked at them, and so solemn were these looks, that though +the writer was searching about for a will, no one seemed to +care whether he found one or not. It has been said that +"the heart of man is deceitful above all things;" but of +a surety the adage could not have been spoken there, +except with the determination to get it disproved for once +in the world, and the blessed object of shewing to us sons of +the seed of Abraham that we are not so wicked as we are +called.</p> + +<p>At length the ominous little box was laid hold of and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +broken open, amidst a pretty nonchalance, and lo! there was +indeed a paper, bearing the fearful word "Will," and the +faces of the heirs turned as pale as the paper itself. It was +opened; but it was a fair, clean sheet of paper, and not a +drop of ink had stained its purity. "All safe, all safe," +muttered the heirs.</p> + +<p>"Here is another box," said Saunders Gibbieson, holding +up the mahogany one; "let us try it." And he opened +it, and took out Geordie's will. The writer read it aloud. +Saunders was sole heir to all the old miser's possessions, +amounting to £10,000. No one could tell the reason why +there were two papers marked "Will," and one of them a +blank sheet; and Saunders, simple man, did not trouble +himself to give any explanation.</p> + + +<h4><br />END OF VOL. XVIII.<br /><br /></h4> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This story will suggest the remembrance of a popular ballad, but the similarity +is casual; for the circumstances are here true, if they may not be found of +every-day occurrence somewhere about the temple of Mammon.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <span class="smcap">Hibbert's</span> <i>Philosophy of Apparitions</i>; <span class="smcap">Brewster's</span> <i>Letters on Natural +Magic</i>; <span class="smcap">Scott's</span> <i>Letters on Witchcraft, &c.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> See "The Man-of-war's Man."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Mr Allan Cunningham, in his Life of Burns, states the following particulars +respecting Willie's wife:—viz., that "He was a farmer, who lived near Burns, at +Ellisland. She was a very singular woman—tea, she said, would be the ruin of +the nation; sugar was a sore evil; wheaten bread was only fit for babes; earthenware +was a pickpocket; wooden floors were but fit for thrashing upon; slated +roofs, cold; feathers good enough for fowls. In short, she abhorred change: and +whenever anything new appeared—such as harrows with iron teeth—'Ay! ay!' +she would exclaim, 'ye'll see the upshot!' Of all modern things she disliked +china most—she called it 'burnt clay,' and said 'it was only fit for haudin' the +broo o' stinkin' weeds,' as she called tea. On one occasion, an English dealer in +cups and saucers asked so much for his wares, that he exasperated a peasant, who +said, 'I canna purchase, but I ken ane that will. Gang there,' said he, pointing +to the house of Willie's wife, 'dinna be blate or burd-moothed; ask a guid penny—she +has the siller!' Away went the poor dealer, spread out his wares before +her, and summed up all by asking a double price. A blow from her crummock +was his instant reward, which not only fell on his person, but damaged his china. +'I'll learn ye,' quoth she, as she heard the saucers jingle, 'to come wi' yer +brazent English face, and yer bits o' burnt clay to me!' She was an unlovely +dame—her daughters, however, were beautiful."—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span></p></div> + +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'> +<p class="center">Transcriber's Notes: Hyphen variations left as printed.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of +Scotland Volume 18, by Alexander Leighton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WILSON'S TALES OF THE *** + +***** This file should be named 39759-h.htm or 39759-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/7/5/39759/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +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. 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