^* ^'V IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // 4" <:'<^ % V] <9^ 7 ^/ ^ S >^ 1.0 I.I 1^ 12.8 2.5 12.2 BiS IIIIIIO | l»25 1 1.4 [j||j5 Photographic Sciences Corporation iV c> :1>' ^^ o \ :\ O^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) U72-4503 <> \ ^^ 6^ CIHM/rCMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/iCMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canaoien do microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filnning. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. n Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagde Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pelliculde Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ Cartes g^ographiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ D D D D Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 a/y . . • x/ y y.i A. •^ I i! ;:\V WVLIE i!AJ' il.lv V ■ >;^.rv; . i■|'t^ >? Itt^ Jv^TT i\_ . i r.:ui ' ' '' HJ: T-\ HH " *i ^ '.I ni„ACKVV!> AM) Wc J IVorks of John GalL Fditrd hi/ D. Sforrar McMrmr Sill ANDREW WYLIE OF THAT ILK WITH INTRODUCTION BY S. R. CROCKETT ILLUSTRATIONS BV JOHN WALLACE VOLT' ME I WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCXCV . .^=u=:=rt,.-* -.i.4iAa:B*sH»a*6*»'^a*^^ PrinttH by HALLANTVNJi, IlAN.SON A: Co. At tht BctllantyHt Press CONTENTS Intkoduction PAor . xiii The Cottagi: . TllE Maopik , CHAPTER I CHAPTER II The Task The Fair . CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV \:i 21 Common-Sense CHAPTER V 28 CHAPTER VI The Consultation . 35 CHAPTER VII The Outfit 41 CHAPTER VIII Changes CHAPTER IX Preparations . 47 52 f i VI CONTENTS CHAPTER X Departure 59 CHAPTER XI Edinburgh 06 CHAPTER XII London 72 CHAPTER XITI First Impressions 82 CHAPTER XIV A Masquerade yo CHAPTER XV An Invitation 98 CHAPTER XVI A Dinner-Papty 104 CHAPTER XVII Borrowing 110 CHAPTER XVIII An Accident 119 CHAPTER XIX A Paragraph 127 CHAPTER XX An Explanation 133 CHAPTER XXI An Event 142 CHAPTER XXII Negotiation 152 CONTENTS vii CHAPTER XXII 1 Perplexities . • ''^qj CHAPTER XXIV A Man op Business 171 CHAPTER XXV Gratitude j-g CHAPTER XXVI An Ale-house „ . .183 CHAPTER XXVII A Dowager 2Pq CHAPTER XXVI II An Attempt igg CHAPTER XXIX The Family Mansion 209 CHAPTER XXX Noble Authorship 218 CHAPTER XXXI A Secret Expedition 233 CHAPTER XXXII A Mystery 043 CHAPTER XXXIII A Discovery 254 CHAPTER XXXIV Outside Travelling 265 CHAPTER XXXV Conversation 27t> viii CONTENTS CHAPTER XXXVI New Lights ''287 CHAPTER XXXVII The Castle 294 CHAPTER XXXVIII Inexperience 3Q2 CHAPTER XXXIX At Fault 308 CHAPTER XL A Scientific Baronet 314 CHAPTER XLI A Remonstrance 32o CHAPTER XLII Encouragement 327 CHAPTER XLIII Insight 333 CHAPTER XLIV Stratagems 341 CHAPTER XLV The Forest 35q CHAPTER XLVI Hospitality 355 CHAPTER XLVII Explanations 352 CHAPTER XLVIII The Examination 358 ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOLUME I " Honest woman, ye're in a mis- take " . . . . Frontispiece " He was surprised to find them SEATED TOGETHER " . toface page SS-l- I '/ 1 . '/ . ( t/ a INTRODUCTION fl •/ INTRODUCTION It has been generally said that " Sir Andrew AVylie,'' was, at the time of its publication, the most popular of Gait's works in England. Probably this popularity never meant very much. But if it had been much more extensive than it was, and if the knowledge of the hero of Gait's story had been widespread, we might, I think, have safely indicated Sir Andrew Wylie as the original of the Scot of low comedy and popular jest— in fact, the Bancr- went-Saxpence Scotchman. But the conception is likely far older than Gait, probably at least as old as the Union of the crowns, and the japes that were made then upon the penuriousness of the crowd of hungrv adventurers, who accompanied King James southward from Holyrood in 1603. Never, however, has the type been clothed \ ' XIV / // INTRODUCTION with such kiiully flesh and blood as in the ad- ventures of the t£uaint " auld-farrant '' boy, the uncouth, keen-witted lad, the pushing, provi- dent, kindly man, whose progress Gait has so sympathetically described in Andrew " Wlieelie." It is no slight merit to have plumbed the inwardness of such a conception. It is a service not slight to have interpreted the care- ful, determined architect of a man^s own fortunes, who never lets slip a chance, who ever takes the tide of affairs at the flood, who leaps to embrace Fortune when she stands a-tiptoe ; and yet at the same time to have succeeded in preserving withal, through all the prosperity and success, the simplicity of the boy who kept the sweetie-stall at the fair, and who carried his grand mother''s Testament to the kirk, done up in a white napkin with a piece of " sidder- v/ood."" In some ways " Sir Andrew Wylie '''' appears to me little short of a triumph. In others it falls immeasurably below the steady sweetness of placid dignity which characterises "The Annals of the Parish."" In " Sir Andrew," the \ / the INTRODUCTION xv author has tried for more. He has achieved less. Indeed, to tell the truth, plot, counter- f)lot, and the involution of society are not in his way. The fine fury evolved out of the tangled relations of the Earl and Countess of Sandyford seems to me like the mimicry of puppets strung on wires. Gait had perhaps better have left all this ort of thing alone. The Earls character reflects accurately the contemporary Byronic conceptions of the reck- less spendthrift peer, with the languid manners and the excellent heart. The quarrel with the Countess also has Byronic suggestions, and much of the fine society is a pale reflection of the justly forgotten society novels of the earlier part of the century. These things are wholly out of key with the time of the American AVar to which the Scottish portions belong. But all the early part of the book is in the author's finest vein. The description of the cottage and fittings belonging to Martha Docken, the hero's grandmother, the incidents of the hero's schooling, and very especially the "awful-like thing''— the vengeance taken by / I ' / xvi INTRODUCTION the boys for the death of Wheelie s parrot, arc of the intimate essence of Scotland as it was at the end of the eighteenth century. It is true that only those who have them- selves smarted under the black-thonged taws, who have climbed the braes s])arsely wooded with birch and hazel, on Saturday afternoons free and golden, who have sweated over the learning of " fifty psalms,"" and suffered for their costiveness with " Effectual Calling'' are really capable of knowing how superexccllent these eai'ly chaptei's of " Sir Andrew Wylie "* are. It may be some consolation to the unfor- timates who were born under other and less friendly stars, and whose experiences have not the ragged edge of enjoyment which comes by contrast with bygone stern realities, to know that the inijiressions of life which Gait gives are entirely faithful, both in their general impression and in the very abundant detail with which he supports them. There never was a more veracious chronicler than John Gait, or one better qualified for the task. No doubt the same slee, paM^ky, w^ll-con- 1/ arrot, arc it was at ve thcm- ^ed taws, ' wooded Pternoons over the for tlieir re really tit these are. 2 iinfor- and less lave not omes by to know ^ives are ipression h which a more or one ell-^ con- INTRODUCTION xvii sidered straightforwardness, which the keen and not over-indulgent eyes of Thomas Carlyle discerned in Gait, found its way into the ad- ventures of "Sir Andrew Wylie." His hero early makes the discovery that the finest manners are composed in equal parts of good feeling, naturalness, and care for the sensibilities of othei-s. He is aware that to attempt to assimilate himself with the distinguished society in the midst of which he moves would be fatal to his plans for his own advancement. So he is constrained to be himself. For instance, in an admirable passage his master is conveying to him the news'' that by the generosity of Lord Sandyford, Andrew is assured of the income of seven hundred and fifty pounds a year for seven years. Mr. Vellum thinks that the time is a suitable one for giving a little advice to his lucky ap- prentice. "I hope,'' he says, "that you will set in seriously to your profession and throw off your ridiculous manners for the future." " That would be a doing indeed ! " exclaimed VOL. I. , rl :/ 'I I I'/ J 1 / xviii INTRODUCTION our hero, " when you are just at this precious moment telling me that they liave already brought me in seven hundred and fifty pounds a year.*" This answer puzzled the lawyer, who laughed as he said, " Well, well, take your own way ; but it is no longer necessary for you to be so penurious.*" " That's very ti'ue,'*'' replied Andrew, " and Fm thankfu"' that it is sae ; but if I dinna save now, where, in the lang run, will I be better for my lord's bountiful patronage ? No, sir, ye maun juist let me ride my ain horse wi' my ain hauding." It is quite true that Andrew, while engaged in engineering his fortune, looks on everything with a clear eye to his own advantage, and plainly declares that he means to utilise ail his favour with the great. But the meanness, if not the smallness, of such a declaration is largely atoned for by the transparent simplicity and sincerity of his character — as well as by the fact that he never forgets an early friend. He rejoices the heart of his grandmother, and 1/ •ecioua iready )ounds lughed I way; I be so , "and na save tter for sir, ye mv ain engaged ry thing and ail his iness, if Jargely ty and the fact d. He ge, i I * I i ler, and INTTRODUCTIOIT xix finally returns full of his original and unspoiled simplicity to his own village. Truth to tell, we occasionally get a little tired of "Caliban''^ in the gay society of the dav. The oaf wears his oafdom a trifle too obviously. Also, there arc lapses from good taste which increase as the political and other intrigues thicken. We feel instinctively that the author is not at home here. He is playing upon an instrument of which he does not know the strings. We get, it is true, the continuous impression of the forceful man of affaii-s. We learn that honest and homely common sense, reinforced by natural shrewdness and some lack of rose- water scruples as to meddling with tar, is an excellent working equipment wherewith to face the world and erect the edifice of fortune. But there is, it seems to me, a little too much of the " Successful Merchant '*'* about this part of the book, somewhat too obvious a dwelling upon the fruits of monetary and social success. The reason of this is obvious enough. These were the sorts of success which during part of )' / I- • ' V7 XX INTRODUCTION his life Gait himself aspired to ; but which ho did net, in any great measure, succeed in achieving. And he failed largely for the lack of that very suppleness in speech and demeanour with which he has credited " WTieelie." Gait was ever ready to put forward his own opinion, and if it were not precisely acceptable to his superiors, he was just as ready to back his judgment by sending in his resignation. He had no judicious suppleness of neck. He could bide the buffet, but he had no idea of " jooking to let the jaw go by.''^ As soon, however, as the " Sir Andrew '' leaves London behind, with all the quirks and smirks of political society, and sets foot again on the beloved land, we have our own rich, simple, gi'acious John Gait. Each unstudied line runs rippling in the heart of every Scottish lad who has ventured afield, and after long years has returned to find the old order unchanged indeed, yet strangely new because of the eyes full of experience that now look upon the scene. " All things, as he approached the hamlet, had become smaller and 1/ lich he ?ed in lack of eanour Gait pinion, to his ick his 1. He 3 could ooking idrew *" ;*/ •ks and : again n rich, in the 3ntured to find rangely ice that 3, as he ler and ^ INTRODUCTION xxi meaner ; the trees appeared stunted, the hedges more rude and irregular, and the distance hctween each well-kno^vn object gi'eatly abridged."' The houses had other occupants, the kenned faces are few and far between — only the river sung the same well-remembered tune and the ash-trees stood out against the sky in the summer twilight as when he was a boy. All the latter part of « Sir Andrew Wylie " is full of these delightful things. Gait seems exceedingly glad (as no doubt he was in reality) to get quit of London and his romantic plot. On his own ground he is like a " China pourie fu' o' cream." Every line is a picture. The kindly nature of the man wins a hundred ways out. For Sir Bountiful, coming home with his long purse and his long head — never bestowing in the wrong place, never grudging in the right, is precisely the figure John Gait would have liked to make upon his own return from Canada. Alas, that in a sentence of his own we should read the picture of what his actual return was "'^I xxu \ INTRODUCTION like. "There are but two situations in which the adventurer, returning home, can duly appreciate the delightful influences of such an hour of holiness and beauty and rest. "The one, when he is retreating from an unsuccessful contest with fortune — when, baffled and mortified by the effects either of his integrity or of his friendlessness, he abandons the struggle, and retires to his native shades as to the embrace of a parent, to be lulled by sounds that were dear to his childhood, and which he fondly hopes will appease his sorrows and soothe him asleep for ever." Yet who shall say that John Gait, when he turned his face to the wall, made not a better end, neglected by the great ones of the earth whom he had so faithfully served, but dignified by his own honour and sincerity, than even the wholly successful baronet and kindly adven- turer whom, in this book, he has so excellently pourtrayed. S. R. Crockett. \ in which an duly such an from an n, baffled of his bandons bades as illed by ►od, and sorrows vhen he 1 better le earth lignified ven the adven- ;ellently SIR ANDREW WTLIE i KETl'. ' 'I I i( ' .7 ^> SIR ANDREW WYLIE CHAPTER I The Cottage. Sir ANDREW WYLIE, like the generality of great geniuses, was born and bred in very humble circumstances. By the early death of both his parents he was consigned in infancy to the care of his maternal grandmother, Martha Docke-i one of those clachan carlins who keep alive among the Scottish peasantry the traditions and senti- ments which constitute so much of the national character. This old woman resided in the hamlet of Stoneyholm, in the shire of Ayr Her sole breadwinner was her spinning-wheel; and yet she was cheerfully contented with her lot for it had pleased Heaven to bless her with a 'blithe spint and a religious trust in the goodness of Providence. The furniture of her cottage, in ad- dition to Andrew's cradle (and that was borrowed) consisted of one venerable elbow-chair, with a tan perpendicular back - curiously carved,-a A SIR ANDREW WYLIE // Ki ? I family relic of better days, enjoyed by her own or her husband's ancestors ; two buffet-stools, one a little larger than the other ; a small oaken claw-foot table ; her .vheel, a hand- reel, a kail-pot, and a skillet,^ together with a scanty providing of bedding, and a chest that was at once coffer, ward rope, and ambry. ^ Behind the house she had a patch of some five or six falls ^ of ground for a garden, which she delved and planted herself; and the rent she paid for the whole was ten shillings per annum. The gathering of this sum, after she received the heavy handful of Andrew, a weak and ailing baby, required no little care. But, instead of re- pining at the burden, she often declared to the neighbours that he was " great company ; and, though at times a wee fashious,"* he's an auld- farand ^ bairn, and kent a raisin frae a black clock '^ before he had a tooth : putting the taen in his mouth wi' a smirk, but skreighing'^ like desperation at the sight o' the ither." During the summer of the first year after Andrew had been brought home to her, she was generally seen sitting with her wheel, basking in the sun, at the gable of her cottage, with her grandson at 1 Skillet. A hand-bell. ^ Ambry {Almerie). Cupboard. 3 Fall. A measure equal nearly to an English rood. * Fashioiis. Troublesome. 5 Auld-farnnd. Sagacious. " Black clock. Black-beetle. ^ Skreigking. Screeching. / ', > sr own -stools, , small hand- ;r with I chest ambry.2 ►f some , which he rent ngs per received id ailing id of re- d to the ny ; and, an auld- a black the taen ng*^ like During rew had renerally the sun, ndson at od. Screeching. THE COTTAGE S her side in her biggest stool, turned upside down, amusing himself with the cat. Andrew was a small and delicate child ; but he grew apace, and every day, in the opinion of his grandmother, improved in his looks. " His een," Hs she said to her kimmers ^ while she dandled him at the door as they stopped to speak to her in passing, " are like gowans in a May morning, and his laugh's as blithe as the lilt o' the linty." Philosophers, in these expressions, may discover the fond antici{)ations of hopeful aifection look- ing forward to a prosperous fortune for the child ; but Andrew for a long time showed no indication of possessing anything in common with the talents that are usually supposed requisite to ensure dis- tinction or riches. In his boyhood, however, Martha frequently observed " That he was a pawkie laddie, and if he wasna a deacon at book lair, he kent as weel as the maister himsel' how mony blue beans it taks to mak five." The " maister " here spoken of was Dominie Tanny- hill, one of those meek and modest novices of the Scottish priesthood, who, never happening to meet with any such stroke of good fortune as the lot of a tutor in a laird's family, wear out the even tenor of their blameless days in the little troubles of a village school. At the time when Andrew was placed under his care, the master seemed to be about forty, but he was probably two or three years younger. He was pale and ^ Kimmers. Neighbours, gossips. SIR ANDREW WYUE / / |l '/, I'" i I i I thin, and under the middle size, and stooped a little, as if his head had been set on somewhat awry. It proceeded, however, from a habit which he had acquired, in consequence of being short- sighted, and accustomed to write and read with his ear almost touching the paper. At times he would erect himself even into something like an air of dignity, and change his lowly and diffident tone into the voice and accent of an earnest and impassioned eloquence. Everything in his appearance indicated a moderate spirit, in perfect accordance with the mildness of his manners, and his few and humble acquirements ; but there was an apostolic energy in his thoughts, when his own feelings were roused, or when he addressed himself to move those of others, by which nature at times showed how willing she was, if fortune had r.o pleased, to make him a pathetic and impressive preacher. Whether he ever felt the longings of ambition, or, rather, whether he ever repined at the un- heeded and unknown estate in which he was left to pass away, — like a sequestered spring, whose pure and gentle course is only seen in the meadows by a little narrow edging of richer verdure, — could never be discovered in the still sobriety of his placid temper ; but if all other passions were hushed in his quiet bosom, the kindly disposition which he showed towards every living thing begat in the minds of his pupils an affectionate respect, of far greater power in the > ^oped a me what it which g short- jad with times he r like an diffident nest and icated a ■with the d humble ic energy ngs were to move 2S showed )leased, to preacher, ambition, ,t the un- h he was ■d spring, ly seen in of richer the still all other >osom, the [ards every pupils an er in the THE COTTAGE 5 little state and commonwealth of his school than would liave been yielded to the authority of more arrogant abilities, backed by the taws, that dreaded satraj) of Scottish didactic discipline. In his dress, the master was as remarkable as in his mind and manners. His linen was always uncommonly neat, and his coat and vest of raven grey, though long threadbare, never showed a broken thread or the smallest stationary speck of dust. His breeches, of olive thickset, were no less carefully preserved from stains ; and his dark blue worsted gamashins,^ reaching above the knees in winter, not only added to the comfort of his legs, but protected his stockings. Between his cottage and the church, or in the still evenings when he was seen walking solitary along the untrodden parts of the neighbouring moor, he wore a small cocked - hat, and, as his eyes were weak and tender, in bright weather he commonly slackened the loops, and, turning the point round, converted the upright gable of the back into a shade. If the master, like other potentates, had a favourite, it was certainly our hero, at whose droll and whimsical remarks he was sometimes observed almost to smile. For Andrew was not long at school till he showed that he was, at least with respect to his sayings, destined to attract notice. Indeed, on the very first day when his grandmother herself led him to the door with his ^ Gamashins. Leg-protectors. A (jameson, as described in authorities on ancient armour, was little different from the jack. 6 SIR ANDREW WYLIE / n ' I I A B board in his hand, he got a name that he never lost. After the dismissal of the school, .is he was playing with the other boys on the high- road, a carriage and four horses, with outriders, happened to pass, whirling along with the speed and pride of nobility. The school-Hoys, exhila- rated by the splendour of a phenomenon rare in those days in Stoneyholm, shouted with gladness as it passed, and our hero animated the shout into laughter by calling out, " Weel dune, wee wheel io : the muckle ane canna catch you." From that time he was called " Wheelie ; " but, instead of being offended by it, as boys commonly are by their nicknames, he bore it with the greatest good-humour, and afterwards, when he had learned to write, marked his books and copies with " Andrew Wheelie, his book." Even the master in time used to call him Wheelie, and insensibly fostered his taste for the odd and droll by sometimes inviting him on a Saturday after- noon to partake of his pale and economical tea. Andrew, who was naturally shrewd and observant, perceiving that the master was diverted by his humour, exerted himself on these occasions, by which exercise he gradually acquired a degree of readiness and self-possession in conversation un- usual among Scottish boys, and a happy vernacu- lar phraseology which he retained through life, and, with those who had a true relish of character, was enjoyed as something as rare and original as the more elegant endowment of genius. > 1 '■I e that he school, as the high- outriders, ;he speed s, exhila- 3n rare in gladness the shout lune, wee ch you." ie ; " but, commonly with the when he ind copies Even the eelie, and and droll day after- mical tea. observant, ed by his asions, by degree of sation un- y vernacu- rough life, character, d original ius. CHAPTER II The Magpie. Andrew was not distinguished among his sciiool-fellows by any particular predilection for those amusements in which the boys of a country school are so adventurous ; yet he was always a desired member of their nesting parties in the spring and nutting excursions in the autumn : for his drollery and good-humour knit their hearts to him, and if he seldom strung an egg of his own berrying, and absolutely, at all times, refused to risk his neck on the boughs of the hazel, he still brought home his full share of the holiday plunder. On an occasion when a pyet's i nest was scaled, only a single young one was found ; and it was so strong and cunning that it almost escaped from the grasp of Willy Cunningham, the hvy who was sent up the tree. Some debate ensued, on the division of the day's spoil, as to who should get the magpie. Andrew thought that it ought to be given to Willy; but Cunningham, a frank and generous fellow, insisted that it should be ^ Pyet'8. Magpie's. 7 f ^ ,• ♦>-<»» / 1 / f-r. \ i. (•, >! !| 8 SIR ANDREW WYLIK Whcelie's, assi^iin^^ as ;i reafion that Ma^^y (as Andrew had called it on the spot) '' was an auld- farand thing like hinisel', and woidd learn mair wi' him than wi' ony other laddie at the school." Cunningham's proposal was ratified with a unani- mous shout ; and, certainly, no bird was ever more appropriately disposed of, for Andrew not only taught it to fetch and carry, and to filch with surprising address, but to speak several words with the most diverting distinctness. Maggy her- self seemed to be right well pleased with her master ; and, according to tradition, knew every word he said, with the discernment of a fairy. When his companions, in the winter evenings, assembled round his grandmother's hearth, Maggy placed herself between his legs ; and as often as he said anything that tickled their young fancies turned up her cunning eye, and then jocundly chattered with her bill, as if she participated in their laughter. The natural knavery of the magpie being culti- vated by education, she sometimes took it into her head to pilfer a little on her own account, and among others who suffered by her depreda- tions w' '- the master. Between the school hours he always opened the windows to ventilate the room ; and Maggy, as often as she could, availed herself of the opportunity to steal the boys' pens. It happened, however, that she went once too often, and was caught in the fact, with a new pen in her neb. The master's own kindly humour THE MAGPIE 9 Tcry (as [I au ki- ll mair cliool." unani- V, ever ew not to filch 1 words gy her- ith her V every a fairy, enings, Maggy )ften as fancies )cundly ated in g culti- it into ccount, epreda- 1 hours ate the availed pens, nee too ew pen lumour iiuluced iiini to pardon the bird ; but as (|uarrels had arisen among the boys, occasioned by the loss of their pens, one accusing the other of the theft, he deemed it incumbent on him to rebuke the owner of tiie depredator. Accordingly, when the school assembled in the afternoon, he pro- claimed silence ; and, taking up Maggy from under a basket where he had imprisoned her, he addressed the boys to the following effect, — " Wha' amang you is guilty of keeping this misleart ^ and unprincipled pyet, which is in the practice, whenever I leave the windows open to air the school, of coming in and stealing the j)ens from off the desks — carrying them awa' in its neb, without ony regard for the consequence .'' " " It's mine," cried Andrew. "Yours!" said the master. "Then, VVheelie, come ye here, for I maun point out to you the great error of such conduct. It is, as ye maun surely hae often heard, an auld and a true saying, that 'They wha begin wi' stealing needles and prins, may end wi' horned knout.' - I'm no saying, so ye needna nicher,^ that ever this pyet will steal either horse or black cattle ; but I would exhort you, nevertheless, to put it away, for it is a wicked bird, and may, by its pranks, entice you to do evil yoursel. I dinna, however, recommend that ye should put the poor creature to death : — that would be a cruelty, and, besides, ye ken it's ' Misleart. Unmannerly ; then mischievous. - Knout (Nolt). Black cattle. Nicker. Snigger. \?J- ( t 10 I i A. n.) i-/ l; / » t, i !•;' K 1' ^l> ■/ n\ 1, :/ »'i > I; U / SIR ANDREW WYLIE but a feathered fowl, and no endowed wi' ony natural understanding of good and evil. It kens nae better, like the other beasts that perish, than to mak its living in a dishonest manner. There- fore, I counsel you just to take it to the woods, and set it at liberty, where it may fall out in some other's hand." To this Andrew replied, with one of his pawkie glances, " It's but the first fault o' poor Maggy, master, and ye shouldna be overly severe, for she doesna ken, as ye say, that theeving's a sin ; so I hope ye'll allow me to gie her an opportunity to tak up the steik ^ in her stocking, and I'll ad- monish her weel when I get her hame. O ! ye sinfu' bird. Are ye no ashamed of yoursel, to bring such disgrace on me ? " Maggy instantly testified her contrition and her thankfulness for the advocacy of her master by hopping from the relaxed grasp of the good- natured dominie, and nestling in his bosom. " It's really a droll beast : I maun alloo that, and I'll forgie }.a for this ae time," said the master; "but I would advise you to tie a string to its leg, and keep it in the house, for there's no telling what it may commit." Anditw having thus obtained pardon for the magpie, she became a greater favourite than ever with the boys, and produced precisely the effects which the master had feared. Nothing portable at open window was safe from her thievish bill, 1 Steik. Stitch. THE MAGPIE 11 wi ony It kens sh, than There- 3 woods, in some ! pawkie Maggy, , for she ;in ; so I unity to I'll ad- O! ye ursel, to ion and r master »e good- m. oo that, said the a string ere's no for the lan ever i effects )ortable ish bill, s i least of all the thread-papers of Miss Mizy Cunningham, the maiden aunt of the boy by whose good-nature our hero became master of the bird. Miss Mizy lived in the mansion-house of Craiglands, close to the village, and had under her dominion Willy and his sister Mary ; for their mother was dead, and the laird, their father, troubled himself veiy little with any earthly thing. He was, as Andrew described him, "a carle that daunered ^ about the doors wi' his hands in his pouches, and took them out at meal-time." As for MibS Mizy herself, she was a perfect paragon of gentility and precision. However slovenly the grounds about the house were kept, the interior of the mansion was always in the trimmest order ; and nothing could exceed the nun-like purity of the worthy lady's own cambric- clad person. It happened that, by the death of a relation, it was necessary the family should be put into mourning ; and Miss Mizy, for this purpose, had bought herself a suit of sable, as well as a due portion of crape, and the other requisites of funereal sorrow. She was sitting, busy with her needle, making up the dress at the parlour window, which was open, when Andrew, one afternoon, with his pyet, came to ask Willy to go out with him. Maggy had so often teased Miss Mizy by pilfering her thread-papers that justice and vengeance were sworn against her. This the ^ Daunered, Loafed. t t "^^ !':>^ / / fi' / ^j 12 SIR ANDREW WYLIE boys were well aware of, but could not resist the temptation of "setting up the birses^ of aunty." Maggy, accordingly, was set loose. In a moment she was in at the window, and had seized a thread- case. Miss Mizy, however, before the pyet could escape, darted at her like a cat on a mouse ; and almost in the same instant poor Maggy, with her neck twisted, was flung out with such fury at Andrew that it almost knocked him down. This was a dreadful outrage on the part of Miss Mizy, and the whole school participated in the revenge which was vowed against the murderer of Maggy. Nor was ever revenge more complete. Next day, the principal companions of Andrew provided themselves with a large tul>, whi -h they filled with water from the laird's stable-yard ; and Andrew, going up to the window where Miss Mizy was again sitting at her seam, while the other conspirators were secretly bringing the tub under the window, cried, " Ye auld rudons,^ what gart you kill my pyet ,'' Odd, I'll mak you rue that. Nae wonder ye ne'er got a man, ye cankery runt,^ wi' your red neb and your tinkler tongue." This was enough. Miss Mizy rose like a tem- pest; the same moment, souse came the unsavoury deluge from the tub, full in her face, to the total wreck and destruction of all the unrinished bravery of mournings which lay scattered around ! \ : » ^ Birses. Wrath. -J Budons. Wrinkled woman, 3 Cankery. Cross-grained. Bunt means an old cow, and is used contemptuously of an old woman. ' \ CHAPTER III The Task. tem- J. HE awfu'-like thing," — so Miss Mizy ever afterwards spoke of the schoolboys' conspiracy, — was attended with the most important conse- (juences. The first result was a formal complaint to Mr Tannyhill, to whom the indignant plaintiff stated her wrongs with an eloquence to which we cannot do justice, demanding the immediate punishment of the offenders. The master's affec- tionate bosom was deeply afflicted with the ac- count that Miss Mizy gave of "the deevilry," which, in her narrative, certainly suffered no diminution, either in the sins of the perpetration, or in the cunning with which it had been planned. In his way back to the school, he meditated on the sort of punishment which he ought to inflict, for hitherto the rod had been unknown in his discipline ; and he canie to the strange conclusion that, as the end of all punishment ought to be the reformation of the delinquent, he would oblige the culprits in this case to apply with more than ordinary assiduity to their tasks, and require them, for the remainder of the summer, to attend 18 \' U I .1/ I. : I li '•• 1^ ' I " f?') I 14 SIR ANDREW WYLIE IV the school two additional hours a day. Some fjovemors might have thought this a punishment to themselves ; but it never occurred to his honest and ingenuous bosom that it was any hardship. On the contrary he felt it a duty which he was called to perform in order to correct the effects of the evil spirit which had been so audaciously manifested. Accordingly, when the boys as- sembled next day, he called the conspirators before him, and made them mount a form in presence of their companions. " I told you," said he, casting his eyes towards our hero, "that the ill-deedy pyet would bring you into baith scaith ^ and scorn ; and now ye see my prophecy has come to pass, for there ye stand, five a' in a row, like so many evil-doers as ye surely are, that I ought to make an example of, by let- ting you fin' the weight o' my hand. But it's no my way to chastise with stripes on the body : no, unless the heart is made to feel, a bite o' the taws in the loof, or on the back, will soon heal. In truth, my bairns, I'm wae for you ; for gin ye gang on at this rate, what's to become of you when ye enter the world to mak your bread t Wha, Wheelie, will hae ony regard for you, if ye gie yoursel up to mischief.'* Others here hae friens that may guide them, but ye hae only your auld feckless ^' grannie, that wi' mickle hard labour has ettled,'^ with a blessed constancy, to breed ^ Scaith. Hurt. - Feckless. Feeble. •'* Ettled. Endeavoured. I % THE TASK 15 Some hment honest rdship. le was effects ciously ys as- )irators jrm in owards I bring ye see ; stand, ; surely by let- Jut it's body : o' the heal, gin ye of you 3read ? I, if ye re hae ly your labour breed --V' ■■,--1t ■:1 you up in the fear o' God. O man, it will be a sore return for a' her love and kindness if ye break her heart at last ! — I speak to you mair than to the rest, because in this matter ye are the most to blame, and stand in the greatest peril." "Weel, weel," cried our hero, half sobbingly, half angrily, " ye need nae fash ^ me ony mair about it, but tell me at ance what ye're ga'n to do wi' me." The master was so astonished at this interrup- tion that he stepped back, and sat down in his chair for some time, silent. The culprits became all pale, and the rest of the boys stood aghast : so daring a defiance (as it seemed to them) of all authority, could not, it was supposed, but be fol- lowed by some tremendous display of power. Mr Tannyhill, however, read Wylie's character in the expression, and by some happy or bene- volent interpretation of his petulance took the only way with him that could be attended with any benefit. — " I will fash you nae mair," said he, addressing him emphatically, " as ye seem to be contrite for your fault ; but, in order to try whether ye have the right leaven o' repentance in you, I will ta«;k you to a task that will do you good for a' the remainder of your days." — He then ordered him to get the first fifty psalms by heart, and interdicted him from all play and pastime till he had learned them. From that moment Andrew applied himself to ^ Fash. Trouble vexatiously. ^ 'I I ^ . 16 SIR ANDREW WYLIE *- ' , *■■ '\ f T^f : if • learn the psalms with a persevcance that quite surprised the master, who had hitherto regarded him but as a droll and curious creature. The shortness of the time in which he performed the task was not, however, remarkable, for his memory was not well adapted to literature ; but his singular abstraction from all his playfellows, and the earnestness with which he adhered de- terminately to his task, astonished every one. During the intervals of the school hours, he was seen sitting by himself in the lee of a head- stone in the churchyard, muttering verse after verse from the Psahn-book which he held in his hand. While he was in this situation, Mary Cun- ningham, the sister of Willy, happened to pass, and seeing him said, " What are ye doing there, Wheelie .'' " He looked up, but, without answering her question, repeated in a loud monotonous voice, — " My heart inditing is Good matter in a song." " O ! hae ye no got your psalms yet ? " ex- claimed Mary, for she had heard from, her brother of his particular additional punishment ; and, going up close to him, inquired how many he had learned. " I can say ane-and-forty a' through. Miss Mary, without missing a word." " What a lee that is, Wheelie ! " said Mary : m THE TASK 17 t quite garded . The formed for his re ; but fellows, red de- ry one. urs, he a head- se after d in his •y Cun- to pass, g there, ing her /oice, — ?" ex- lom her ihment ; w many n. Miss Mary : *' naebody could ever say so many psalms straight through." "Will ye hearken me .^ " said Andrew; and she took the book which he at the same time offered, and, leaning over the headstone behind him, bade him begin. " That man hath perfect blessedness Who walketh not astray," he immediately repeated in one unvaried stream of voice, " But dwelleth in the scorner's chair, And stands in sinner's way." " O, Wheelie, Wheelie ! ye canna say the first verse o' the vera first psalm : a pretty-like story that ye hae gotten ane-and-forty by heart!" exclaimed Mary. Reference was, in consequence, made to the book ; and after some further parley, Andrew resumed, and went on as far as the twelfth Psalm without missing a single word, to the delighted surprise of his fair auditor. By this time, however, it was necessary that he should go to school and Mary return home ; but, before parting, she agreed to visit him again at the same place next day to hear the remainder, and she kept her word. Again the book was in her hand, and leaning over the tombstone, with Andrew sitting below, she listened with un- wearied pleasure to the undeviating and inflex- ible continuance of his monotonous strain, till VOL. I. B 18 SIR ANDREW WYLIE • I I 'if? he had reached the thirty-first Psalm, when the same causes that occasioned the former in- terruption again obliged them to separate, after a renewal of the compact. On the third day, Andrew completed not only the forty-one, but two more that he had learned in the mean- time. Mary confessed her admiration of his wonderful genius, and from thenceforth, till he had completed his task, she was his regular visitor. Out of this circumstance a greater degree of intimacy arose between them than is usual among boys and girls of their age. She admired him as a prodigy of talent, and he was pleased when he met her, on account of the interest she had taken in his task. From the attack on her aunt, however, he had been prohibited from approaching " The Place " (as the Craig- land mansion-house was called by the villagers) ; and as she was educated by Miss Mizy herself, preparatory to being in due time sent to an Edinburgh boarding-school, they had few oppor- tunities of meeting. But on Sunday he always took care to stand in the path by which the laird's family crossed the churchyard, and a smile was as regularly exchanged between them in passing. As often, also, as the minister read out to be sung any one of the fifty psalms, Mary would peep over the front of the laird's loft to where Andrew sat beside his grand- mother in the area below ; and on these occa- > , when mer in- e, after rd day, ne, but ; mean- of his , till he regular egree of is usual admired pleased interest e attack ohibited e Craig- Uagers) ; herself, t to an oppor- always ich the a smile them in er read psalms, e laird's grand- se oeca- THE TASK 19 # sions she never missed his eye, which seemed to be instinctively turned up in expectation of meeting hers. In this way, the germ of a mutual affection was implanted, before either was awakened by nature to the sense of love and beauty, or informed by the world of the disparity of their condition. They were them- selves unconscious of the tie with which sim- plicity had innocently linked them together ; and being as yet both free from the impulses of passion, they felt not the impediments which birth and fortune had placed between them. The Craigland family was one of the most ancient in the county. The estate was large ; but by the indolence of the laird it was much neglected, and the rental was in consequence small. The woods, however, were valuable, and the old tacks, or leases, were drawing to a close ; so that, while in a state of comparative penury, it seemed probable that both Cunningham and his sister would inherit a very ample patrimony. Of this their aunt. Miss Mizy, was fully sensible, and frequently complained to her brother that he should allow his son, with such an inheritaiice in view, to be brought up among the children of the tenants. But her complaints were long unavail- ing. The laird had been educated in the same school with the fathers of these children, and he could discover nothing in his sister's remon- strances to make him wish to see his son a •r^ I 20 SIR ANDREW WYLTE n 'V l finer gentleman than himself. " The awfu'-like thing," however, had a more impressive effect than her lectures. It was an exploit of mischief far surpassing all the easy pranks of his soft youth ; and upon the minister, at Miss Mizy's instigation, representing to him the disgrace and dishonour that would ensue to the family if the heir was permitted to asF ciate long with such unmeet playmates as the boys of Mr Tannyhill's school, he consented that Willy should be sent from home, and placed at an academy suitable to his rank and prospects. This was done accordingly, and, like other boys that drop away from am^ng their school- fellows, Cunningham was soon forgotten. n. > !' CHAPTER IV The Fair. iVFTRR Cunningham was removed from Mr Tanny hill's school, a considerable change took place among our hero's playmates. The frater- nity to which the two boys belonged was, in fact, in the course of that summer, broken up, and, for some time, Andrew was without any particular companion. These temporary inter- missions of friendship are, however, comm.on to men as well as to boys ; but the cares of our riper years make us less sensible of the blank left by the removal of a neighbour than the loss we suffered when a school-fellow was taken away. The nickname of Wheelie, in consequence of this change, was gradually forgotten, or, rather, ceased to be any longer in use ; while the strip- ling himself seemed daily in quest of something that he could not find, either on the n. norlands or along the hedge-rows and the belts of plant- ing that skirted the hills and farms of the Craig- lands. He was (as his grandmother said) for some time "like a tynt^ creature;" and, for 1 Tynt. Lost. 21 i I, If ^^ , r It ^Vl OO SIR ANDREW WYLIK lack of other comjiany, often on the road-side fell into discourse with travelling tinklers, blue- gowns, or old soldiers, who had ae(juired a sufti- eient stock of wounds and scars to set them up in beggar)'. Poor Andrew, however, had nothing to give them ; nevertheless, it was remarked that they always left him seemingly better pleased than they ever quitted the laird's yett,^ even when Miss Mizy, after the term-day, allowed an extra neaveful to their wonted weekly almous.^ In the evenings, Andrew had recourse to the firesides of the gash and knacky carles and carlins ^ of the village. Still, even in their queerest stories he found a deficiency, for he had no friend of his own age to share his remarks afterwards. About Hallowe'en, however, this want was sup- plied. At the distance of a mile om Stoney- holm lay the small estate of VVoodsr ^ a mailing,^ as it was called, with a house somewhat better than the common farm-steadings. The proprietor happened to die, and the lands were rented by his heirs to a neighbouring farmer. The house and garden, being in consequence to let, were taken by a Mrs Pierston, the widow of a Glas- gow merchant, who at the Martinmas term took possession. This matron had but one child, a fine smart 1 Yett. Gate. 2 Neaveful . . . almous. Handful . . . alms. 3 Oash . . . carlins. Intelligent and shrewd old men and women. * Mailing. A farm that is rented. '' I ti THE FAIH "23 ad-side i, blue- ji sutfi- icm up nothing :ed that pleased ;,i even (wed an iioiis.^ ; to the carlins ^ (queerest lo friend ;erwards. was siip- Stoney- mailing/ it better roprietor ented by be house let, were a Glas- rm took ne smart d men and ratthng boy of the name of Cliarles, who was sent to the master's school, where he and Andrew soon became inseparable. The distance of his mother's house from the village occasioned him, as is usual in such circumstances, to bring his dinner in !iis pocket at first ; he was afterwards allowed to dine with Andrew — an arrangement of some advantage to old Martha — , for Mrs Pierston was in good circumstances, and indul- gent to her only son. Thus commenced one of those attachments which are formed but at school, and are generally supposed to weather the changes of fortune, and the blasts of adver- sity, better than the friendships of more con- siderate years. The buoyancy of Pierstoti's spirits gave him a seeming ascendency over W'ylie ; but it was soon observed by the neighbours that, in reality, Andrew was the master, and that, by submitting to the pranks and whims of Charles in small affairs, he uniformly obtained the management of things of greater moment, if such language may be applied to the disinterested concerns of schoolboys. Pierston had also, as it might have been supposed from its early effects, another advantage over his rustic companion. He had spent his boyhood in Glasgow, and had been several years at the grammar-school of that city before his mother removed to the Woodside house. He was in consequence, for his time, pretty well accomplished in many tricks. He ;/ M n ' . 24 SIR ANDREW WYLIE stood much less in awe of the municipal digni- taries of the neighbouring towns ; and, accord- ingly, at the different fairs, to which he constantly induced Andrew to accompany him, he not only kept his part better among the town boys, but even went further than most of them in the frolics customary on such occasions. But although it was said of Charles that he was a perfect devil's limb, he had a generous warmth of heart and a lively good-humour that bespoke a favourable in- terpretation to his worst and wildest stratagems. Many an old apple-woman at the fairs, however, on seeing the gowk and the titling ^ approach, (as the two boys were called), watched their tempting piles of toys and deiectables with gleg ^ een, and staff grasped to repel some pawkie ag- gression ; while, at the same time, the boys were always merrily welcomed, for Charles had plenty of pocket-money, and spent it freely. If, in those excursions to the fairs, Pierston found fun and frolic, Andrew reaped some ex- pedience of the world. He soon saw that the money his companion spent was sufficient to set up any old woman with a stand ; and the thought occurred to him that if he could get Charles, on the next fair-day, to give his money to Janet Pirn, a sl)'^ and droll old lame widow, with whose tales and ballads they had been often enter- tained during the winter, they might be able to I 1 Ooivk . . . titling. Cuckoo, and its attendant hedge- sparrow. 2 Qieg. Keen, THE FAIR 25 digni- iccord- stantly )t only irs, but in the though devil's b and a ible in- ;agems. nvever, proach, i their 1 gleg 2 kie ag- ^s were plenty ierston me ex- lat the to set lought •les, on Janet whose enter- able to ; hedge- n. I I .1 .1 pay Janet a shilling for her trouble, and make a o-reat deal of money by the speculation. The idea was most delightful ; but Charles justly dreaded that if the existence of the copartnery should become known to the other boys, espe- cially to those belonging to the towns, the con- sequences would be ruinous, as Janet would assuredly be plundered without mercy. This consideration, however, was soon got over by Andrew saying that if they kept their own secret it could rever be known. Terms accordingly were proposed to Janet, who readily acceded to them ; and when the Kilwinning fair-day came round, she made her appearance at the corner of the bridge, seated in an arm-chair, dressed in her red cloak and black Sunday bonnet, with a table before her, covered with a cloth secretly borrowed by Charles from his mother's napery-chest, and temptingly adorned with a competent stock of the requisite allurements. The boys themselves also had ac- companied Janet into Irvine to buy them, and they assisted her to set them out to the best advantage. The muscalmonds were declared to be as big as doos' ^ eggs ; the sweeties and corianders were of all sizes and colours, inter- mingled with the smallest and fairest Mistress Nanse ; the rock of Gibraltar was laid forth with all its best veins particularly turned towards the view ; parliament-cakes, and gingerbread watches, ^ Doos'. Pigeons'. 1 V o *J(» SIK, ANDIMOW VVYLIM n ■4 .■4i;V ! /ff ■ vf / I* ,1 riflily gilded ; piles ol' raisins and of (i^s, jrcins of siiir.'ir-c'iiidy, .'ind .'inilu'r Itnnps of barlcy-su^ar, constitutrd this irardcn ol" I Ij'sprridcs, round which a iorniidabic array of idoiatrii'S of all di*scri|)(ions, IVcun o^rcs with a curranl ifi I he lorehcail instead of an (•v<'. t<) ^anu'-cocks with bits of cinnamon lor spurs, were (>xhil)ited lo the trrealest advanlMij;*'. Such another stand was not in tin' whole lair, .laiu't, had a ^reat run; and the two hoys, each with a stick in his hand, stood siMitinels at the ends of the tabh*. All went 'ium on the articles for sale, lint this display of jroods, an ks witli (1 to liic was iK)t iin ; and (I, stood i\\ wont MIS way. wiii^ in, bravado lo. But it whicli concern, CSS suc- n, .lanct public- iinicr of cd that c shall which all the e/s, who r sweets mselves e small- twenty om the V adjacent slainis. Andri-w advised .Ian<'t to pack lip l)cr things (piiclly ; hut Charles insisted she should not hud^c^ a step : tlu-y had as ^ood a ri^ht to sell thin/^s at tlu- fair as any other body, and he was prepared to defend it. Tin; attack contiiuu'd ; tlu; crowd /gathered ; ('harles lost his teujper, and struck a /^reat heavy hniiberin^ country lout, that was lau^hin^ at him, over tlu; riu^<'rs. The fellow retaliated. Some of the spectators took part with (!harles. A battle- royal ensued, in the midst of which the tabh- was overset, and all its treasures tro(hl(;n in the mire, amidst the acclamations and the ela[)f)in^ of hands of all I he riv.'il deah-rs. The two boys seeing th(;ir golden dream thus dissipated, nrtired from the scene, and left those who had beeti involved in th«ir cause to fi^ht the battle out. But they did not r(;tire to Ix*- wail their njisfortune : they wen; more heroic, ("harles saw, and indeed felt, that he was no match for the country lad who had thrashed him ; but his ire did not burn the less fiercely. On the e(mtrary, he went with Andrew in (piest of some of their school-fellows, to assist in revenging the wrong which he had himself provoked. t' CHAPTER V }• r^ c oimnon- ■Sense. ' W W HEN the two boys had walked up the street and passed through the gate of the masons' lodge into the churchyard without meeting with any of their companions, Andrew halted and said, "Od, Charlie, I'm thinking we had as weel bide as we are : yon's a horned stot, in comparison to us, wha hae but banes o' gristle ; and a solid chap o' his nieve would be as deadly as Coomy the smith's forehammer. Od, I'm no for meddling ony mair wi' the muckle brute." Pierston reprobated the pusillanimity of this prudent sentiment, and became more and more resolute for revenge. "Vera weel," cried Wylie : "tak your ain gait, and get your een steekit and your nose smash'd, and see what ye'U mak o't. A pretty pirlit 1 ye'll be : me leading you hame, blind and bleeding, wi' a napkin or an auld stocking tied round your head. Eh ! what a skreighing at the sight o' you, Charlie, there will be ! — your ^ Pirlit. An expression for a contemptible figure. 28 COMMON-SENSE 29 up the of the without A.nclrew Ling we horned b banes I would ammer. vi' the of this d more )ur ain ir nose pretty nd and \g tied ing at — your |re. mother running out and in, clapping her hands for her murder't bairn." " I dinna care though he were to kill me ! " exclaimed Charles; "if I had but my will o' him beforehand." " Ay, that's sense," said Andrew. " Gin ye could but get your will o' him first ; but the fear is that he may get the will o' us ; — and what's to be done then ? " Pierston was a little puzzled with this, and, hesitating, said, after a moment's reflection, — "We might watch for him and stane him frae behind the dyke when he's gaun hame in the gloaming." " It's a cowardly thing to waylay a defence- less man. Od, Charlie, I thought ye had mair spunk ! " replied Andrew, in perfect sincerity ; but still only anxious to pacify the resentment of his friend. "Touch my honour touch my life," was a sentiment that Pierston had learned among the youths of his own kidney at the grammar-school of Glasgow ; and the implied unworthiness of taking his tA.emy unprepared affected him in his most vulnerable feelings. "What am I do, Andrew.'' It's a dreadfu' thing to gi'e up my satisfaction. Look it my lug whar the brute struck me : it's birzed ^ black and blue, — deevil's in him ; but I'll gar im rue t. Andrew examined the wounded part, and de- 1 Birzed. Bruised. "51 L 30 SIR ANDREW WYLIE f I ;'f clared it was just a Hea-bite. " It's a wee red," said he, "and before half an-hour's by ye'll ne'er fin't. Man, Charlie, it's bairnly to mak sic a war! for a bit tig on the hafFet.^ A' ye gottin's no the tae half o' what ye gied, — for ye're a deevil at a paik, when your birses are up — I would na come in your reveience - then for something." Pierston was flattered by the compliment to his strength and valour ; his pride also was touched at the idea of exaggerating the effects of the blow he had leceived, which Andrew, in fact, adroitly- undervalued ; and he said, " As for the thump on the side o' the head, I hae thole't twenty times mair before noo ; and I think I would be content if I was sure he had gotten as niuckle frae me." "Ye need hae na doubt o' that, Charlie, for he got twa for ane. Ye ken, ye were the first aggressor : ye struck him first wi' the stick, and he gied you but a gentle slaik wi's paw, — I dinna think he was very wud for a' that, — and then ye birl'd at him. ()d ! but ye're a terrier when in a passion, Charlie ; and when a's considered, I think we ought to be thankfu' that we came off wi' hale banes, and nae blood spilt." " But the stan' was coupit, and a' our mer- chandise lost : wha's to mak up that ? " replied 1 Bit tiff on the haffet. Light touch on the side of the head. ^ Rwerence. Power. '> M COMMON-SENSE 31 ; red," f ye'll 3 mak A' ye i, — for ses are 2 then lent to so was effects ndrew, d, "As , I hae and I he had lie, for he first stick, paw, — that, — ye're a when lankfu' blood r mer- replied )he head. Pierston, fairly at a loss for a sufficient reason to nurse his rage any longer. " I hae had my thoughts o' that too," said our hero ; " and I jealouse that it was nae a right thing o' us to be marrows ^ in ony sic trade wi' cripple Janet. It was interloping wi' the auld sweetie-wives, — ye saw what a stoor raise amang them when the truth came out ; there were nae ither callants at the fair keep- ing stands." "That's weel frae you, Andrew," said Charles, " for it was a' your own doing. I didna care a bawbee for the stand, and a' the profit." " I'll mak nae denial," was Wylie's discreet answer, " for I kent nae better ; but I hae got insight by the upshot, and I wish the whole story were weel hidden, for gin that lassie Mary Cunningham hears that we were keeping a stand, hke twa sweetie-wive« at the fair, she'll herry^ my seven senses wi' her jeering. A' ye hae gotten will be naething to what I maun thole : so let's keep a calm sough and close tongues." Charles was now n )t only fully persuaded of the propriety of stifl.ng his revenge, but also convinced that they had not been engaged in any very honouiable adventure ; and said, with some degree of mortification and chagrin, " I hope Janet has ta'en care o' the table-cloth, for sic a rippit^ there will be about it if it's lost ! " ^ Marrows. Partners. ^ ffcrry. Rob. ^ Rippit. Hubbub. i i ■^ i); so SIB ANDREW WYLIE !*'»' ' \'i Andrew, perceiving that he had gained a com- plete victory, j)roposed that tht^y should return to cripple Janet ; and they found her replacing the stand with such of the articles as she had been able to pick up, selling the damaged at great bargains to the children, who, hovering round her, deplored the wreck of such deli- cious commodities. The moment, however, that the gowk and the titling were again seen on the spot, the auld wives around immediately broke out on them a second time ; and such had been the eWert of Andrew's representation of the unworthy nature of their copartnery that Charles was quite daunted by their banter, and slunk away. Our hero, however, was none dis- mayed ; but with great address turned the scale in their favour by telling Janet that he and Charles gave up to her all the merchandise and profit, on condition that she took good care of the table-cloth. Never was generosity better timed : the gift was a little fortune to old Janet, and she so loudly expressed her thanks and grati- tude that the other women, to whom the boys had been good customers on other occasions, joined instantly in praising them to the skies, and long before the evening the gowk and the titling were in as high favour as ever. But the consequences of this adventure did not stop here. It reached the ears of Mrs Pierston, who had, indeed, previously begun to suspect that the school at Stoneyholm was not y w;*f/ COMMON-SENSE 3S I corn- return ilacing le had red at ►vering I deli- r, that L seen diately d such ntation ry that er, and »ne dis- scale in Charles profit, of the timed : et, and gndi- le boys casions, skies, md the ure did of Mrs 3gun to was not exactly the fittest place for a boy of her son's prospects ; and Charles soon after was removed, and sent to complete his education in one of the neighbouring towns, where he continued till he Mas summoned to London by an uncle, a great city merchant, A second time thus Andrew was left to himself; but the friendship between him and Charles was not entirely broken by their separation. For, at the vacation and liolidays, Pierston regularly visited his mother at the Woodside Hou«2, and his intimacy with Andrew was on those occasions as uniformly re- newed. The difference of tlie spheres in which they moved was, however, gradually operating a change on the characters of both. Charles, destined for the mercantile profession, and amidst genteel companions, educated in the hopes and prospects of opulence, was every year developing more and more into a spruce and tonish gallant ; while Andrew, bred up in rustic poverty, and without any definite views as to his future life, settled into a little gash carlie^ remarkable chiefly for a straightforward simplicity. His drollery and good - humour, however, rendered him a familiar and prodigious favourite with everj'body ; and although few in the parish were, perhaps, move destitute of any visible means of rising in the vo?\'l, a confident belief was entertained among all who knew him that he was destined to become a rich man : — a great f - li VOL. I. »-'i*«u«l«3nvbj#«n 34 SIR ANDREW WYLIE one none ever ventured to anticipate ; nothing, indeed, could be more opposite to any idea of personal grandeur than his small, short, round- headed figure, smooth apple-cheeks, and little twinkling eyes. ^^ I' CHAPTER VI m The Constdtatio?!. iiT the period of which we are now treatinrr. neither the commerce nor the manufactures of Scotland had risen to that height which has since not only wrought such changes in the appearance of the countr}', but affected the very depths and principles of the national character. The youth having few means of advancement, and but a narrow field of enterprise at home, sought their fortunes abroad ; and good schooling (as it was called) constituted the common patrimony of the Scottish adventurer. As Andrew was rendered unfit by his feeble frame for the drudgery of a farmer, his grandmother, actuated in her humble sphere by the national spirit, resolved to spare no cost on his education. But whether to breed him for a divine, a doctor, or a lawyer, was a point not easily determined. It presented even more difficulties to her imagination than any appre- hension which she entertained of procuring the means ; for, with respect to the latter, her trust in the care of Providence was unbounded, and she had heard of many gospel ministers, come of 35 ■: r I 36 SIR ANDREW WVLTE n *, li! no better stock, who bravely upheld the banner of the testimony, even unto the death. She had heard also of doctors who had returned nabobs from India that began as shop-boys to druggists ; and of lawyers on the freehold-roll of the county that had commenced their career by running errands for town-officers. As she could not determine for herself, she resolved to consult the master. Accordingly, one afternoon, when the school had been dismissed, she went to his house, and found him at his tea, listening, with a faint smile that played among his features like sunshine through the hedgerow, to some little comic occurrence in the village which Andrew was describing, while sitting at his side as a companion, but not at that time a participating guest. The small room where they were seated was in the back part of the school-house. Behind the door, in a recess, stood a humble bed, covered with a patched and quilted coverlet, which at night was carefully removed, being only used for show by day. Fronting the entrance, a mahogany scrutoire was placed, somewhat of an incongruous degree of splendour compared with the general style of the apartment, and over it hung a Dutch looking-glass, in a gaudy frame of flowers and gilding, a considerable margin of the plate being adorned with birds and foliage painted on the surface. The top of the scrutoire, under the glass, was covered with a damask towel, and i i 1 i, THE CONSULTATION S7 occupied by several volumes neatly bound, a tall wine-goblet with a white spiral line up the stalk, filled with flowers, antl a mahogany tea-chest with an inlaid likeness of a clam-shell in front. The window was between the scrutoire ami the wall facing the bed. It consisted of four panes, and looked into a small garden, rank with apple-ringy,^ and other fragrant herbs and stately flowers. The sole of the window was occupied with a flower- pot containing a geranium, round which lay scat- tered several books, a shaving-box, a razor-case, and a hone. Opposite to the window, and near the door, stood an eight-day clock, with a black bust between the volutes on the top, bearing the well-known inscription of the cloud-capped lowers, indicating that the image was meant for Shakespeare. Between the clock and the corner, Andrew and the master were sitting when his grandmother entered, and she was in consequence requested to take a seat in an angular elbow-chair, which occupied the corner opposite to them. " I'm come," said Martha, " to hae a crack wi' you about this get.- It's time, noo, that he were thinking o' doing something for himsel'. He's weel through his fifteen, and I would fain hae an inkling gin he be o' ony capacity." Mr Tannyhill, foreseeing that the conversation would turn on particulars which might be as well discussed in Andrew's absence, suggested that it would be proper for him to retire. ^ Apple-ring ti. Southernwood. - (Jet. Baini. jH; ^^ ) 38 SIR ANDREW WYLIE " Ay," said his grandmother : " tak the door on yoUi* back, and play yoursel' till me and the maister hae come to an understanding." Our hero on this hint immediately withdrew ; but, although he took the door on his back by shutting it after him, he placed himself close to it in the kitchen from which the room entered, and overheard all that passed within. " Poor laddie," resumed Martha, when he had retired, *' he's no strorg ; hard wark's no for him, and saft's ill to get. Noo, Mr Tannyhill, what's your conceit } I doubt he has nae got the cast o' grace needful to a gospel-minister. James Sinney, the droggest n Kilwinning, would tak him for a word o' my mouth, if ye thought he's o' a physical turn ; and John Gledd, the messenger, wha was sio to his mother, ance promised as muckle ; but I canna say I hae ony broo o' the law, for it's a deadly distemper amang friens; and Andra, though baith powkie and slee, is a warm-hearted creature, and would be o'er scrimp in the severities of justice, especially in pleas amang kith and kin." The master replied that, of all the learned professions, he really thought Wheelie was best disposed by nature for the law ; "for although," said he, " the craw thinks its ain bird the whitest, ye're no, Martha, sae misled by your affection as to imagine that Andrew's qualified to make a soun' frae the pulpit ; and even if he were, noo- a-days a' things o' religion hae settled into a THE CONSULTATION 89 method that .jies the patronless preacher but little chance o' a kirk. Wi' your oye's ^ ordinar looks. I fear, though he were to grow as learned as Matthew Henry himsel', he would hae but a cauld coal to blaw at." '' For the bairn's looks, Mr Tannyhill, I think they're wecl eneiigh. There may be brawer ; but a hantle are far waur," said Martha, a little tartly ; " howsomever, if it's your notion that he wouldna make a sincere divine, I would rather see him gaun about the farms wi' Thomas Steek, the tailor, clouting at saxpence a day, than walk- ing the dyke-sides between hope and starvation, wi' a thin white face, and his forefinger atween the leaves o' some auld kittle Latin buke." '' Your description o' a luckless probationer is ower true," said the master with a sigh. " It's a state without pleasure to the r m himsel', and a sorroA^ to a' that see him. I would be wae to think that Andrew's blithe spirit was quenched wi' the tear of mortification ; and therefore, Martha, if ye would follow my advice, a' I can say is. Let him choose between Mr Sinney and John Gledd." " I jealpuse, sir," replied Martha, ''that he has but a sma' stomach for the drog trade, and I fancy he'll tak to the law." " In that,' said Mr Tannyhill, " I doubt not, wi' a portion of perseverance, he may grow a topping character. I hae seen at Edinburgh, ^ Oyt's. Grandchild 'rf. U'l I ^ I' / v 40 SIR ANDREW WYLIE when I was at the College, advocates proudly before the Courts that could reckon no higher parentage. He has only to join care to industry, and I have no doubt, by a decent use o' the means that Providence may place in his power, he'll reap both riches and honour." While Martha was thus drawing out, in the pursuit of her object, the latent and slumbering mind of the master, our hero was listening with a throbbing heart. At the mention of the ministry, a dim vision floated before him, in which the fair form of Mary Cunningham was blended with the interior of a churcli, and the remembrarce of fifty psalms. It was, however, but the passion- less association of feelings and recollections that dissolved away and wei*e lost in disagreeable images of the green and yellow gallipots, sores and salves, odious stuffs and bottled reptiles, with which the name of James Sinney, the druggist, was associated. The chances, by prudence and industry, of attaining riches and honours through the legal profession determined his choice ; and he put an end to the consultation by opening the door, and looking in, at the same time saying, '^ I'm for John Gledd's, grannie." CHAPTER VII The Outjit. 1 HERF. are few things in the world more won- derful to |. ilosophy than the means by which the honest poor of Scotland are enabled, from day to day, with light hearts, strong arms, and brave spirits, to face the ills of life with what they call *'sma' families" — that is, at least half- a-dozen children. But their general condition is comparative opulence to the lot of old Martha Docken ; and yet she was one of a class that would have spurned the gifts of charity— of that class to whom the country still points with pride, and, we hope, long will, in spite of all the improvements in agriculture, manufactures, and commerce. As soon as it wa determined that Andrew should be sent to Jolin Gledd's, the writer, to learn the law, various important considerations required to be well weigiied by his grandmother. In the first place, John lived tn Kilwinning, a town three miles at least fron Stoneyholm ; and, in the second, according to custom, it was re- quisite that Andrew, as a U.wyer's clerk, should 41 ii If n. I h H J 42 SIR ANDREW WYLIE be a little better dressed than formerly, — although Martha assured him that the ragged coat o' the callant was ne'er a mot in the man's marriage. In a long prospective contemplation of the era which had now arrived, Martha had carefully preserved the Sunday clothes of his father ; but, in order to fit him, they required considerable alterations, and a consultation was held with Thomas Steek, the tailor, on the subject, the result of which was that on a day set for the purpose Thomas, with his laddie. Clipping Jock, arrived betimes at Martha's cottage-door, with all the requisite implements of their profession. The tailor himself, being a lamiter, with a drawn-up leg, and using a stilt, carried the shears in his left hand ; and Jock, a little hump-backed crea- ture, brought the goose behind him, bearing the law-board over his shoulder. By their art and contrivance, Andrew was properly equipped to take his place at John Gledd's desk — John having, on the first application, immediately agreed to lighten Martha's hand of the boy ; for however strict in the harsh offices of caption and horning,^ he had the friendly spirit of the poor man among the poor, and was ever ready, to the utmost stretch of his narrow means, to help a neighbour in need. The day fixed for our hero to enter the world by the clachan of Kilwinning was the first Mon- day of May. On the Sunday before, he made ^ Caption and hominy. Note A. y M 'V THE OUTFIT 43 his appearance at church in his new garb. As the young bird lingers about the nest, and is timid and reluctant to trust its untried wing, the fancy of the schoolboy, when he is on the point of first leaving home, liovers amidst the scenes of his childhood, and wistfully looks back on a thousand little objects which, till then, he had never thought were dear to him. In the calm still evening of that Sabbath, this sentiment pervaded the bosom of our youthful adventurer, insomuch that, when the master invited him, as a testimony of his regard, to take tea with him, he declined it, saying, " I am vera mickle obliged, sir; but I'm thinking o' just taking a dauner round the Craigland parks." The good and simple Tannyhill was so deeply sensible of the feeling which dictated this refusal that he said nothing, but followed Andrew with his eye, as he saw him moving away towards the fields. "That laddie," said he to one of the neighbours who happened at the time to come up, "has mair in him than we gie him credit for. I would na be surprised to hear of him being something yet." Andrew, after parting from the master, strayed into the Craigland plantations, and kept his course along a path that ran beneath the south side of the garden wall attached to the man- sion-house, until he had entered the ancient policy ^ of the domain. Everything about the ^ Policy, Pleasure-grounds round the mansion. f»i ./ ;^' / t 44 SIR ANDREW WYLIE Craiglands betokened the disposition of the laird. The house was large, and built at different times. About eighty years before, an addition had been made, in such a maimer as to convert the end of the original mansion, or fortalice, into the principal front ; by which a fine old avenue of j)lane-trees was thrown, as it were, aside, and another approach was formed towards the new front, which looked into what, in the improver's time, had been an enclosed parterre, or flower- garden — a low hewn-stone wall, with square columns at intervals, surrounding the same ; in the front of which, and at each side, was a gate- way, formed by stately square pillars, crowned with sculptured pine-apples. The plan and archi- tecture, though in a formal, were certainly in something of a grand, style, if not in a good taste ; but all was in a state of ruinous neglect ; the par- terre was overgrown with weeds ; vast bunches of nettles and docks filled the corners, and rose above the enclosing wall ; the pine-apple heads of several of the pillars lay among them as they had fallen ; and washing-tubs, and coals, and peats were piled against the house, under the very windows of the dining-room. But if the mansion and grounds were neglected, the woods suffered little from sharing the same carelessness. The trees, left to themselves, had grown into every possible shape of picturesque luxuriance ; and, fortunately for both the admirer of the spot and the heir, the laird would not suffer THE OUTFIT 4.5 them to be touched, and, in consequence, the Craigland groves were among the most beautiful in the vVest of Scotland. As Andrew sauntered alone into the checkered gloom of those old avenues, the hopes of his young imagination in some degree partook of the sober colouring that was settling on the distant vista of the landscape beyond, as the evening twilight gradually faded. He was still, it is true, a mere boy ; but he was entering on that epoch of life when all the affectionate feelings of the bosom begin to concentrate into passion, and for some time, by the gradual removal of his school-fellows, he had been, in a manner, left alone in the village — a situation calculated to nourish his sensibility for the beauties of nature. At the bottom of the avenue ran a small stream, over which in the gayer days of the Craiglands a wooden bridge had been thrown ; but it was long destroyed, and a plank supplied its place. On this plank Andrew seated himself, and for some time, in idleness, continued turning the pebbles with his toe in the channel. Maiy Cunningham, who was out walking with one of the maids, happened, in returning home, to see him ; and stepping softly up behind him, covered his eyes suddenly with her hands. " It's you, Mary ! " cried he instinctively ; and the lively girl, unclosing his eyes, began to laugh and jeer at his new appearance. "You may tak li ''i\ 46 SIR ANDREW WYLIE 6. !. your fill o't the night, Maiy," said he, " but it winna be lang ye'll hae't in your power." " Eh ! " cried Mary seriously, " whar are ye gaun ? " " I'm boun' the morn's morning to John Gledd's, in Kilwinning." " And what are ye to do there, Wheelie } " " I'm thinking o' making a forton." By this time the maid had joined them, and she interposed laughingly, saying, " And when he's a grand man, he'll come and marry you. Miss Mary." " Oh, that will be sic a while ! " said Mary. What more might have ensued, we cannot pre- sume to conjecture ; but the conversation was interrupted by the shrill voice of Miss Mizy, heard echoing from within the garden, " Mary Cunningham, whar are ye } Come into the house, and tak your book immediately : " at the sound of which Mary skipped away, followed by the maid ; and Andrew, rising from the bridge, re- turned home to his grandmother's cottage. r/!f CHAPTER VIII Changes. oOON after this little incident, a lease of one of the Craigland farms fell in ; and the augmenta- tion which the laird received in the rent at the renewal fully justified his sister. Miss Mizy, to urge him to send Mary, as he had originally designed, to an Edinburgh boarding-school, to learn genteel manners, and to sew satin-pieces and play on the spinnet : the indispensable accom- plishments at that period of an Ayrsliire laird's daughter ; and we do not know that any essential improvement has been made in the order of their education since. By this arrangement, Andrew, during his ap- prenticeship with the messenger, saw Mary no more. Meanwhile, his assiduity at the desk was quite exemplary, as well as the determination with which he was actuated to acquire a know- ledge of his profession — if knowledge it might be called of the law, which consisted merely in being able to copy with fidelity that circuitous and per- plexing verbosity which is professedly intended to be clearer and plainer than the language of 47 4S SIR ANDRKW WYLfE common-sense. He was also distinguished from all the lads of his own a^e by the preference which he ^ave to the knacky conversation of old and original characters. It signified not to him whether the parties with whom he enjoyed his leisure were deemed douce ^ or daft ; it wa- enough that their talk was cast in queer phrases, and their minds ran among the odds and ends of things. By this peculiar humour, he was pre- served in his clachan simplicity ; while he made, as he often afterwards said himself, " his memory, like a wisdom-pock, a fouth^ of auld knick- knacketies — clues of experience and shapings of matter that might serve to clout the rents in the knees and elbows o' straits and difficulties." An event haj ned, however, which changed the prospects ot his professional career. John Gledd had a shock of the palsy, and was obliged to give up his busiiiess, by which Andrew ,/as thrown on the world. He had begun to acqiuj t some confidence in himself, however ; and this event did not depress him so much on his own account as on that of his master. He had by this time also some suspicion that Kilwinning was not exactly the best place for becoming that grand man he was determined to be. The illness of John Gledd, therefore, decided his fate and fortune. At first it was proposed that, as he had got the pen of a ready writer, he should try to obtain a place in the clerk's chamber of Irvine or ' Douce. Sensible. 2 ^ jouth. An abundance. \ y. JW -; CHANGES 49 Ayr, from which, like others of the legal fry, he juight in time migrate to Edinburgh for a season, and then eonie back to Kilwinning, and eude.a- vour to gather custom among the clients of his old master. But, after nmch deliberation, it was agreed between him and his grandmother that he should "try his luek in London, that great city." This apparently singular and bold resolution occurred to Martha from the great good fortune that had attended a niece of her own who was settled there. The young woman had gone to the metropolis as a servant with the Eaglesham family, and had the good luek to attract the affec- tions of Mr Ipsey, an old solicitor of high reputa- tion and great connections, who, finding he could not obtain her love on easier terms, had the good sense to make her his wife. Between Martha and her kinswoman no literary correspondence subsisted ; but from time to time they heard of each other, and the old woman rejoiced at the prosperity of her niece, but without thinking, till John Gledd's misfortune, that it would ever be of any avail to her grandson. That event, how- ever, directed her eyes towards Mrs Ipsey, and it was determined to solicit her influence with her husband on our hero's behalf. A letter was accordingly written by Andrew to that effect ; and, by return of the post, a kind and conside- rate reply was received, honourable alike to Mrs Ipsey's spirit as a Scotchwoman and to her husband's generosity as an Englishman. She VOL. 1. D 4 li 50 SIR ANDREW WYLIE \ 1 i ,i J- I *t informed Martha that Mr Ipsey had retired from business several years ; but that his successor, Mr Vellum, would receive Andrew whenever it was convenient for him to come to London ; and that, as his outfit would probably cost more than her aunt could well afford, she enclosed a bill for twenty pounds, — not as a gift, but as a loan to be repaid by Andrew whenever he could do so. The receipt of this friendly and considerate letter was an auspicious omen which every one in Stoneyholm regarded as a sure token of some- thing grand in the future fortunes of Andrew ; and to none did it give more pleasure than to the master, whom our hero himself was the first to inform of his great good luck. " I'm glad to hear it, Wheelie," said the kind and good Tannyhill ; " but neither in this, nor in anything else, be either overly lifted up or cast down. Take some honest and honourable pur- pose in your mind, and make all your endeavours bend to the attainment thereof ; by that ye'U not only get forward in life, but your steps will be steady and respected, though your passaging be slow. But, my bairn, set not your thought on riches as an end, but only as a means for some- thing more solid to yoursel', and pleasing in the sight of Him, who, in this favour, has given you erlis 1 of the servitude He claims from you — the which is to be kindly and generous, but neither to be inconsiderate nor lavish." i Erlis. Aries. Note B. (CHANGES .51 Andrew was fully sensible of the force of this advice ; and, perhaps, he was the more impressed with its practicable wisdom, inasmuch as it was in unison with the natural and habitual course of his own reflections. For, although he was not a Sir Isaac Newton, to reason in his boyhood about anything so well as that philosopher's meditations on the cause which occasioned the fall of an apple, he was nevertheless, in his way, endowed with a peculiar genius, and had formed, even at this early period, a scheme of life and conduct in which he was resolved to persevere. A /H [i. V ■■■. CHAPTER IX Preparations. LN some respects, the parish of Stoneyholm was, at the period of Andrew's departure, not so fortunate ;n its pastor as its neighbour Dal- mailing, of which the meek and pious Mr Bal- whidder was then the incumbent ; nor could it even be compared with the well-watered vine- yard of Garnock, where the much-celebrated Doctor Zachariah Pringle had, some years before, been appointed helj)er and successor. For the Reverend Doctor Dozadeal was a town-bred clergy- man ; and, having been a tutor in tlxe family of an Edinburgh advocate, had of course more genteel manners and less warmth of heart than is usually found among the genuine presbyters of the Scottish Church. In his address he was dry and grave, and measured out his sentences as apothegms of impressive wisdom. He pre- ferred the formal dinners of the heritors to the sick-beds of the lowlier members of his flock. This was natural ; but he also, it was alleged, studied, a little too earnestly, the advancement of his interests in this world, and it was under- 52 ■ / PREPARATIONS 53 stood that he had only accepted the cure of the parish in the hope, and under the promise, of one more suited to his habits. He took no pains to ingratiate himself with his parishioners : he knew few of them by name ; and they seldom troubled him with their little cares and anxieties, the tempering of which by advice and consolation is perhaps the best, as it is the most amiable, of all a pastor's duties. His deportment and manners were, however', spotless and irreproach- able ; and the habitual respect with which the Scottish peasantry regard their ministers secured him all the external deference that is commonly paid by the people to a character which religion, tradition, and patriotism, have hallowed to the national affections. To a being constituted with the peculiar humours of our hero, such a man as Doctor Dozadeal could not fail to appear in the most unfavourable light. The whole of the framed and set-up manners which the doctor had assumed as particularly dignified were disagree- able to Andrew ; and his shrewdness detected, beneath the solemn cloak of his consequentiality, a character which, on account of its own endow- ments and merits, was really entitled to no ex- traordinary respect. Instead, therefore, of being impressed with those sentiments of awe and admiration which the doctor constantly, on all occasions, endeavoured to inspire, and, from a few of the parishioners, certainly sometimes ♦'id ; I ; ,54 SIR ANDREW WYLIE '/ SI obtained, Andrew was in the practice, even before he went to John Gledd's, of mocking his pomposity ; and this irreverent disposition was none weakened at the time when the pre- parations were making for his departure for London. His grandmother, however, deemed it necessary that he shoukl pay the doctor a fon.ial visit prior to his departure, in order to receive his advice, according to a good okl custom that had prevailed from time immemorial, and ever will \)q preserved while the intercourse between the miuister and his parishioners is maintained on true Christian and Presbyterian principles. The doctor himself would, perhaps, have been as willing as our liero to have dis- pensed with the performance of this ancient homage, — at least If wr may j\\dgu |)y the result. Andrew crept slowly a!\d reluctantly to the manse door, ami on asking for the minister was shown into the parlimr, where the doctor was sitting at a X(\h\v slumbciiiig in his elbow- chair. A new book, with a few of the early leaves cut, lay before him ; and an ivory folder which had dropped from his liand was lying on the floor at his foot. His age might be near fifty. In his person he was inclined to corpu- lency ; and there was a certain degree of sallow lethargy in the cast and complexion of his features, — the effect of habitual, rather than of constitutional, indolence. Like most country PREPARATIONS .5.5 clergjmen, in the forenoon he was slovenly dressed. His breeches' knees were only half buttoned, his stockings ill drawn up, his shoes unfastened and down in the heel, his neckcloth lax and dirty : his whole appearance betokening a man little liable to be disturbed by visitors. Andrew, on entering the room, made a bob with his head for a bow, and stood for about a minute swinging his hat in his hand, and looking round the walls and towards the ceiling, casting a momentary glance towards the doctor, who, roused by his entrance, seemed to wait in expec- tation of some communication. Seeing, however, that Andrew was not inclined to speak, the do(;tor said, "Well, Andrew, what is your busi- ness with me .''" '' My grannie sent me to tell you, sir, that I'm ^tiitti tp l.ondoij fn learn the law there," was the reply, uttered at, but ;;//t to, the doctor ; for by this time his eyes had settled on the dial-plate of the minister's watch, which hung over the mantelpiece. " And when do you go ? " in(|uirf'd tho doctor. "As soon as my grannie can get my bit pack o' duih 1 ready," said Andrew, in the same care- less and awkward manner. The doctor then requested him to sit down, and Andrew seated himself on the chair nearest the door. " I hope," said the minister, "you will do your endeavour to give satisfaction to your employers." 1 Duds. Clothes. i > I !''l 'i I i ■■. H 56 SIR ANDREW WYLIE " An I dinna do that, what will come o' me ? " was the answer. "You must study to acquire respectful manners, and to behave properly towards your superiors." Andrew made no reply to this ; but raising his eyes, which, on taking his seat, he had cast downward, he looked for a moment at the doctor, who continued, " For you must have often heard it remarked that a man's manners commonly make his fortune." "Atweel I should ken that," said Andrew, in the most indifferent manner; "for it was aye tiie first copy-line that the maister set when he put us in sma' write." The doctor's countenance was a little troubled by this reply, on account not only of the words, but of the manner in which it was said ; and he resumed, with an accent somewhat approaching to severity — " I have heard that you have good friends to take you by the hand in London ; and it is well you are so fortunate, for I doubt, young man, you will need all their assistance." The cheeks of Andrew^ flushed for a moment at this observation, and again he darted a glance from under his brows towards the doctor, who continued speaking, his voice gradually rising into the tone of a lecture. " Hitherto, you have been but on the threshold of the world, and you have experienced none of its difficulties ; you will find now that mankind I PREPARATlOxVS fiend, here ta StoZ'Z''^ *'''"' f - "-tic M look p,.„„d,^ down on H,' ''' ""^ '"^^^'^- P^'th to preven new Lndi : '";•"•' ''-'^"""S «- "■em the vantage-— :;f ^/™™ ^''"""S «•«!> "Gin they'll noie^"^'^"'''""^-" through aneath their C ^li{"r" "^ '° -" rupting the oration with . ^"'''•e-v, inter- eifeetually Ciseoreerted ,1 '' '"'"'^---y- which equivalent to a disn^isl ' IT'I^' f'"' '" =" '°- man, all „,a„ner of suecess- LT ^T' ^"""^ >»S of Heaven prosper vnf , ""^ "'<= '^'-^^'- "T'„ , ' Pe'Jourundertakincrs" im very ,„ickie oblic^ed t„ .. Andrew drily; and openW the ^ ^°"' '"'P''"' time bobbed his head " " f " "' '"^^ ^»™e ent^. and i.„e're,r J^^'^- " ^'^ ''« •^-csi^drrn::'''^"""'-''"'-^ " I feney he gied „! T , ™' " ""'-^ ^'kily- "But I Jthin\i'ng"l ^ "TT: ^'"''^"''-- in the folk o- London ■ , "' '*''^'^' versed -•<^>.aegartre^:r,Srtrr.-^orhe on their hea' '>ae horns to tread upon us when , ° '"'' ^"^ '■""-^^ no fear't." '"° '''"'"• for a" that, I'm During the short remainder of th .• spent at Stoneyholm h. . ""^ ''">« he "is departure d^w ^ Tit ' T f " ''^"°'' "^ 'Cart» , "^"' *° "ttaeh himself more CcHmctrco. Cau,ad „e to belie™. '5' It I'll i 7 V '; 'ii ;: 58 SIR ANDREW WYI.IE I and more to the different gaffers nd goodies ^ of the village, and to enjoy their peculiarities with a keener relish than ever. Hi:i little attentions, in this respect, gave a degree of eclat to the event of his removal which could hardly have been expected to attend the transit of one so young and so slenderly connected in the parish. On the evening immediately before he set out on his journey, a number of the farmer-lads who had been at the master's school with him came into the clachan to bid him farewell, and a little dance was, in consequence, struck up in Saunders Chappin's public. With the friendliness and the good-humour of the party he was evidently much delighted ; but an old man, who happened to look in upon the ploy, said, " Wheelie took it a' as ane of some degree," — a remark which was afterwards remembered much to the credit of the sagacious observer, and (although there could be as yet no particular change in Andrew's demeanour) would imply that he felt himself no longer belonging to the same class as his youthful associates. It is for philosophers, however, to assign the proper source of that which the village sage so early dis- covered as an omen of success. Gaffers and goodies. Old gossips, men and women. I CHAPTER X T^epartiire. The smoke rose from '''''''' '"'' '^^"'"■'■-■l- - ^traight as a Sum "ars^r "'^ ^'"'"-^ h;8j>-spreadin, tree, lo^'tt: .T " ""^ '^ of housewifery appeared tn , , '^"P'""''' the hamlet; for the n ^^ °""''" ''"«"««= 'n "t sunrise, ncA^dre^r" ""'■"- '™^ '" P^' rea.Imc.ss by tha time t '"'"'''"' *" ""^ '" tV- carrier ftoppeVtoLV:::"'^ '™- '^■''- out alone, with his hov ' "^ '"'""* '"''«"t'y ""■- was ir.r.JlXZZalyT''' ""' '"' Martha till lo„. after h "'' ^ "" ""^ ^"^ master, who w^: ab^d to"" ""' "' '''«'"■ ^"e >•« -ay, was the Ct Jh ™"™^ '™ " "«« «" '^..nd her sittin, ^ t CI'T "f "^ wiping her spectacles • theZ ''"^*'' 'he page which .howeri^aTT- '""' "" glasses. ^^""^ ^^^^ climmed the In going alonff the ro«rl g t/ie road, several of the lads )