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 B O T H I E 
 
 TOPER-NA-FUOSICH 
 
THE 
 
 B OT H I E 
 
 TOPER-NA-FUOSICH 
 
 A LONG-VACATION PASTORAL. 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 
 
 NUNC FORMOSISSIMUS ANNUS. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 
 JOHN BARTLETT 
 
 1849. 
 

 NOTE 
 
 V ill 
 
 t 
 
 The reader is warned to expect eveiy kind of irregularity 
 tliese modern hexameters : spondaic lines, so called, are almo? 
 the nile ; and a word will often require to be transposed b) 
 the voice from the end of one line to the beginning of the next 
 
 CAMBRIDGE: 
 METCALF AND COMPANY, 
 
 PUIXTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 
 
MY LONG-VACATION PUPILS 
 
 AVILL, I HOPE, ALLOW ME TO IXSCEIBE THIS TRIFLE TO 
 THEM, AND WILL XOT, I TRUST, BE DISPLEASED IF, 
 IN A FICTION, PURELY FICTION, THEY ARE HERE AND 
 THERE REMINDED OF TIMES WE ENJOYED TOGETHER. 
 
Socii cratera coronant. 
 
 It was the afternoon ; and the sports were all but 
 
 over. 
 Long had the stone been put, tree cast, and 
 
 thrown the hammer ; 
 Up the perpendicular hill. Sir Hector so called 
 
 it, 
 Eight stout shepherds and giUies had run, two 
 
 wondrous quickly ; 
 Run too the course on the level had been ; the 
 
 leaping was over : 
 Last in the show of dress, a novelty recently 
 
 added, 
 
8 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Noble ladies their prizes adjudged for costume 
 
 that was perfect, 
 Turning the clansmen about, who stood with up- 
 raised elbows ; 
 Bowing their eje-glassed brows, and fingering kilt 
 
 and sporran. 
 It was four of the clock, and the sports were all 
 
 but over. 
 Therefore the Oxford party went off to adorn for 
 
 the dinner. 
 Be it recorded in song who was first, who last, 
 
 in dressing. 
 Hope was the first, black-tied, white-waistcoated, 
 
 simple, His Honor ; 
 For the postman made out he was son to the Earl 
 
 of Bay, 
 (As indeed he was, to the younger brother, the 
 
 Colonel,) 
 Treated him therefore with special respect ; doffed 
 
 bonnet, and ever 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 9 
 
 Called him his Honor : his Honor he therefore 
 Tvas at the cottage. 
 
 Always his Honor at least, sometimes the Vis- 
 count of Hay. 
 Hope was first, his Honor, and next to his 
 Honor the Tutor. 
 
 Still more plain the Tutor, the grave man nick- 
 named Adam, 
 
 White-tied, clerical, silent, with antique square- 
 cut waistcoat 
 
 Formal, unchanged, of black cloth, but with sense 
 and feeling beneath it ; 
 
 Skilful in Ethics and Logic, in Pindar and Poets 
 unrivalled ; 
 
 Shady in Latin, said Lindsay, but tofiying in 
 Plays and Aldrich. 
 Somewhat more splendid in dress, in a waist- 
 coat work of a lady, 
 
 Lindsay succeeded ; the lively, the cheery, cigar- 
 loving Lindsay, 
 
10 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Lindsay the ready of speech, the Piper, the 
 
 Dialectician, 
 This was his title from Adam because of the 
 
 words he invented. 
 Who in three weeks had created a dialect new 
 
 for the party. 
 Master in all that Avas new, of whate'er was 
 
 recherche and racy. 
 Master of newest inventions, and ready deviser of 
 
 newer ; 
 This was his title from Adam, but mostly they 
 
 called him the Piper. 
 Lindsay succeeded, the lively, the cheery, cigar- 
 loving Lindsay. 
 Hewson and Hobbes were down at the matutine 
 
 bathing ; of course too 
 Arthur Audley, the bather par excellence, glory 
 
 of headers, 
 Arthur they called him for love and for euphony ; 
 
 so were they bathing. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 11 
 
 There where in mornings was custom, where over 
 
 a ledge of granite 
 Into a granite bason descended the amber tor- 
 rent. 
 There were they bathing and dressing ; it was but 
 
 a step from the cottage, 
 Only the road and larches and ruinous millstead 
 
 between. 
 Hewson and Hobbes followed quick upon Adam ; 
 
 on them followed Arthur. 
 Airhe descended the last/splendescent as god 
 
 of Oljmpus ; 
 Blue, half-doubtfully blue, was the coat that had 
 
 white silk facings. 
 Waistcoat blue, coral-buttoned, the white-tie finely 
 
 adjusted. 
 Coral moreover the studs on a shirt as of crochet 
 
 of women : 
 When for ten minutes already the fourwheel had 
 
 stood at the gateway. 
 
12 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 He, like a god, came leaving his ample Olympian 
 
 chamber. 
 And in the fourwheel they drove to the place 
 
 of the clansmen's meeting. 
 So in the fourwheel they came ; and Donald 
 
 the innkeeper showed them 
 Up to the barn where the dinner should be. 
 
 Four tables were in it ; 
 Two at the top and the bottom, a little upraised 
 
 from the level, 
 These for Chairman and Croupier,* and gentry fit 
 
 to be with them. 
 Two lengthways in the midst for keeper and gillie 
 
 and peasant. 
 Here were clansmen many in kilt and bonnet as- 
 sembled ; 
 Keepers a dozen at least ; the Marquis's targeted 
 
 gilHes ; 
 
 * Vice-President. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 13 
 
 Pipers five or six, among them the young one, the 
 
 drunkard ; 
 Many with silver brooches, and some with those 
 
 brilHant crystals 
 Found amid granite-dust on the frosty scalp of the 
 
 Cairn- Gorm ; 
 But with snuff-boxes all, and all their boxes 
 
 using. 
 •Here too were Catholic Priest, and Established 
 
 Minister standing, 
 One to say grace before, the other after the 
 
 dinner ; 
 Catholic Priest ; for many still clung to the 
 
 Ancient Worship, 
 And Sir Hector's father himself had built them a 
 
 chapel ; 
 So stood Priest and Minister, near to each other, 
 
 but silent, 
 One to say grace before, the other after the 
 
 dinner. 
 
14 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Hither anon too came the shrewd, ever-ciphering 
 Factor, 
 
 Hither anon the Attache, the Guardsman mute 
 and stately, 
 
 Hither from lodge and bothie * in all the adjoin- 
 ing shootings 
 
 Members of Parliament many, forgetful of votes 
 and blue books. 
 
 Here, amid heathery hills, upon beast and bird of 
 the forest. 
 
 Venting the murderous spleen of the endless Rail- 
 way Committee. 
 
 Hither the Marquis of Ayr, and Dalgarnish Earl 
 and Croupier, 
 
 And at their side, amid murmurs of welcome, 
 long-looked for, himself too 
 
 Eager, the gray, but boy-hearted Sir Hector, the 
 Chief and the Chairman. 
 
 Hut. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICII. 15 
 
 Then was the dinner served, and the Minister 
 
 asked a blessing, 
 And to the viands before them with knife and 
 
 with fork thej beset them ; 
 Venison, the red and the roe, with mutton ; and 
 
 grouse succeeding ; 
 Such was the feast, with whiskey of course, and at 
 
 top and bottom 
 Small decanters of Sherry, not overchoice, for the 
 
 gentry. 
 So to the viands before them with laughter and 
 
 chat they beset them. 
 And, when on flesh and on fowl had appetite duly 
 
 been sated. 
 Up rose the Catholic Priest and returned God 
 
 thanks for the dinner. 
 Then on all tables were set black bottles of well- 
 mixed toddy, 
 And, with the bottles and glasses before them, 
 
 they sat digesting. 
 
16 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Talking, enjoying, but chiefly awaiting the toasts 
 and speeches. 
 
 Spare me, mighty Remembrance ! for words 
 
 to the task were unequal. 
 Spare me, mistress of Song ! nor bid me re- 
 count minutely 
 All that was said and done o'er the well-mixed 
 
 tempting toddy. 
 Bid me not show in detail, grimace and gesture 
 
 painting. 
 How were healths proposed and drunk with all the 
 
 honors, 
 Glasses and bonnets waving, and three-times-three 
 
 thrice over. 
 Queen, and Prince, and Army, and Landlords all, 
 
 and Keepers ; 
 Bid me not, grammar defying, repeat from gram- 
 
 mar-defiers 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 17 
 
 Long constructions strange and plusquam-tliucydi- 
 
 dean, 
 Tell, how as sudden torrent in time of speat * in 
 
 the mountain 
 Hurries six ways at once, and takes at last to the 
 
 roughest. 
 Or as the practised rider at Astley's or Fran- 
 
 coni's 
 Skilfully, boldly bestrides many steeds at once in 
 
 the gallop. 
 Crossing from this to that, with one leg here, one 
 
 yonder, 
 So, less skilful, but equally bold, and wild as the 
 
 torrent. 
 All through sentences six at a time, unsuspecting 
 
 of syntax. 
 Hurried the lively good-will and garrulous tale of 
 
 Sir Hector. 
 
 * Flood. 
 
18 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Left to oblivion be it, the memory, faithful as 
 ever. 
 
 How the noble Croupier would wind up his word 
 with a whistle, 
 
 How the Marquis of Ayr, with quaint gesticu- 
 lation 
 
 Floundering on through game and mess-room rec- 
 ollections, 
 
 Gossip of neighbouring forest, praise of targeted 
 gillies. 
 
 Anticipation of royal visit, skits at pedestri- 
 ans, 
 
 Swore he would never abandon his country, nor 
 give up deer-stalking ; 
 
 How, too, more brief, and plainer in spite of 
 Gaelic accent. 
 
 Highland peasants gave courteous answer to 
 flattering nobles. 
 Two orations alone the memorial song will 
 render ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 19 
 
 For at the banquet's close spake thus the lively 
 Sir Hector, 
 
 Somewhat husky with praises exuberant, often re- 
 peated, 
 
 Pleasant to him and to them, of the gallant High- 
 land soldiers 
 
 Whom he erst led in the fight; — something-husky, 
 but cheery, though weary. 
 
 Up to them rose and spoke the gray but gladsome 
 chieftain : — 
 Fill up your glasses once more, my friends — 
 with all the honors, 
 
 There was a toast which I forgot, which our gallant 
 Highland homes have 
 
 Always welcomed the stranger, I may say, delight- 
 ed to see 
 
 Fine young men at my table — My friends ! are 
 you ready ? the Strangers. 
 
 Gentlemen, I drink your healths, — and I wish 
 you — with all the honors ! 
 
20 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 So he said, and the cheers ensued, and all the 
 
 honors, 
 All our Collegians were bowed to, the Attache 
 
 detecting His Honor, 
 The Guardsman moving to Arthur, the Marquis 
 
 sidling to Airlie, 
 While the little drunken Piper came across to 
 
 shake hands with Lindsay. — 
 But, while the healths were being drunk, was 
 
 much tribulation and trouble. 
 Nodding and beckoning across, observed of At- 
 tache and Guardsman : 
 Adam would n't speak, — indeed it was known he 
 
 could n't ; 
 Hewson could, and would if they wished ; Philip 
 
 Hewson the poet, 
 Hewson the radical hot, hating lords and scorning 
 
 ladies, 
 Silent mostly, but often reviling in fire and 
 
 fury 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 21 
 
 Feudal tenures, mercantile lords, competition and 
 
 bishops. 
 Liveries, armorial bearings, amongst other things 
 
 the Game-laws: 
 He could speak, and was asked-to by Adam, but 
 
 Lindsay aloud cried 
 (Whiskey was hot in his brain) Confound it, no, 
 
 not Hewson, 
 A'nt he cock-sure to bring-in his eternal poHtical 
 
 humbug ? 
 However, so it must be, and after due pause of 
 
 silence. 
 Waving his hand to Lindsay, and smiUng queerly 
 
 to Adam, 
 Up to them rose and spoke the poet and radical 
 
 Hewson. 
 I am, I think, perhaps the most perfect strang- 
 er present. 
 I have not, as two or three of my friends, in my 
 
 veins some tincture, 
 
22 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Some few ounces of Scottish blood ; no, nothing 
 like it. 
 
 I am therefore perhaps the fittest to answer and 
 thank you. 
 
 So I thank you, sir, for myself and for my 
 companions. 
 
 Heartily thank you all for this unexpected greet- 
 ing, 
 
 All the more welcome as showing you do not ac- 
 count us intruders 
 
 Are not unwilling to see the north and south for- 
 gather. 
 
 And, surely, seldom have Scotch and English 
 more joyously mingled ; 
 
 Scarcely with warmer hearts, clearer sense of 
 mutual manhood, 
 
 Even in tourney, and foray, and fray, and regular 
 battle, 
 
 Where the life and the strength come out in the 
 tug and tussle, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 23 
 
 Scarcely, where man confronted man, and soul 
 
 clasped soul, 
 Close as the bodies and intertwining limbs of 
 
 athletic wrestlers 
 When for a final bout are a day's two champions 
 
 mated, — 
 In the grand old times of bows, and bills, and 
 
 claymores. 
 At the old Flodden-field — Bannockburn — CuUo- 
 
 den. 
 — (And he paused a moment, for breath, and be- 
 cause of cheering,) 
 We are the better friends, I fancy, for that old 
 
 fighting. 
 Better friends, inasmuch as we know each other 
 
 better, 
 We can now shake hands without subterfuge or 
 
 shuffling. 
 On this passage followed a great tornado of 
 
 cheering, 
 
24 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Tables were rapped, feet stamped, a glass or two 
 got broken : 
 
 He, ere the cheers had died wholly awaj, and 
 while still there was stamping, 
 
 Added with a smile in an altered voice his sarcas- 
 tic conclusion. 
 Yet I myself have little claim to this honor of 
 having my health drunk. 
 
 For I am not a game-keeper, I think, nor a game- 
 preserver. 
 So he said, and sat down, but his satire was 
 not taken. 
 
 Only the Men, who were all on their legs as con- 
 cerned in the thanking. 
 
 Were a trifle confused, but mostly stared without 
 laughing ; 
 
 Lindsay alone, close-facing the chair, shook his fist 
 at the speaker. 
 
 Only a Liberal member, away at the end of the 
 table, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 25 
 
 Started, remembering sadlj the chance of a com- 
 ing election, 
 
 Only the Attache sneered to the Guardsman, who 
 twirled his moustachio, 
 
 Only the Marquis faced round, but not quite clear 
 of the meaning 
 
 Joined with the joyous Sir Hector, who lustily 
 beat on the table. 
 And soon after the chairman arose, and the 
 feast was over : 
 
 Now should the barn be cleared and forthwith 
 adorned for the dancing, 
 
 And our friends, retiring to wait for this consum- 
 mation. 
 
 Were, as they stood in the doorway uncertain, 
 debating together, 
 
 By the good chieftain so joyous invited hard-by to 
 the castle. 
 
 But as the doorway they quitted, a thin man clad 
 as the Saxon, 
 
26 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Trouser and cap and jacket of home-spun blue, 
 
 hand-woven, 
 Singled out, and said with determined accent to 
 
 Hewson, 
 Resting his hand on his shoulder, while each with 
 
 eyes dilating 
 Firmly scanned each : Young man, if ye pass 
 
 through the Braes o' Lochaber, 
 See by the loch-side ye come to the Bothie of 
 
 Toper-na-fuosich. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 27 
 
 11. 
 
 Et certainen erat, Corydon cum Thyrside, magnum, 
 
 JMoKX, in yellow and white came broadening out 
 from the mountains, 
 
 Long ere music and reel were hushed in the barn 
 of the dancers. 
 
 Duly in matutine bathed before eight some two of 
 the party, 
 
 There where in mornings was custom, where over 
 a ledge of granite 
 
 Into a gi^anite bason descended the amber tor- 
 rent. 
 
 Duly there two plunges each took Philip and 
 Arthur, 
 
28 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Duly in matutine bathed, and read, and wished 
 
 for breakfast ; 
 Breakfast commencing at nine lingered lazily on 
 
 to noon-day. 
 Tea and coffee was there ; a jug of water for 
 
 Hewson ; 
 Tea and coffee ; and four cold grouse upon the 
 
 sideboard ; 
 Cranberry-jam was reserved for tea, and for festive 
 
 occasions : 
 Gayly they talked, as they sat, some late and lazy 
 
 at breakfast, 
 Some professing a book, some smoking outside at 
 
 the window. 
 'Neath an [aurora soft-pouring a still sheeny tide 
 
 to the zenith, ) 
 Hewson and Arthur, with Adam, had walked and 
 
 got home by eleven ; 
 Hope and the others had stayed till the round sun 
 
 lighted them bedward. 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 29 
 
 Tliej of the lovely aurora, but these of the lovelier 
 
 women 
 Spoke — of noble ladies and rustic girls, their 
 
 partners. 
 Turned to them Hewson, the chartist, the poet, 
 
 the eloquent speaker. 
 Sick of the very names of your Lady Augustas 
 
 and Floras 
 Am I, as ever I was of the dreary botanical 
 
 titles 
 Of the exotic plants, their antitypes, in the hot- 
 
 house : 
 Roses, violets, lilies for me ! the out-of-door beau- 
 ties ; ' 
 Meadow and woodland sweets, forget-me-nots and 
 
 heartsease ! 
 Pausing awhile, he proceeded anon, for none 
 
 made answer. 
 0, if our high-born girls knew only the grace, 
 
 the attraction, 
 
30 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Labor, and labor alone, can add to the beauty of 
 women, 
 
 Truly the milliner's trade would quickly, I think, 
 be at discount. 
 
 All the waste and loss in silk and satin be saved 
 us. 
 
 Saved for purposes truly and widely produc- 
 tive 
 
 That's right, 
 
 Take off your coat to it, Philip, cried Lindsay, 
 outside in the garden, 
 
 Lindsay, cigar-loving hero, the Piper, the Dialec- 
 tician, 
 
 Take off your coat to it, Philip. 
 
 Well, well, said Hewson, resuming ; 
 
 Laugh if you please at my novel economy ; listen 
 to this, though ; 
 
 As for myself, and apart from economy wholly, 
 believe me, 
 
 Never I properly felt the relation of man to woman. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 31 
 
 Though to the dancing-master I went, perforce, 
 for a quarter, 
 
 "Wliere in dismal quadrille, were good-looking girls 
 in plenty, 
 
 Though, too, school-girl cousins were mine — a 
 bevy of beauties, — 
 
 Never (of course you will laugh, but of course all 
 the same I shall say it,) 
 
 Never, believe me, revealed itself to me the 
 sexual glory, 
 
 Till in some village fields in holidays now getting 
 stupid. 
 
 One day sauntering ' long and listless,' as Tenny- 
 son has it, 
 
 Long and listless strolling, ungainly in hobbadi- 
 ^ boyhood, "^ 
 
 Chanced it my eye fell aside on a capless, bonnet- 
 less maiden, 
 
 Bending with three-pronged fork in a garden up- 
 rooting potatoes. 
 
 ■ Wf a. Vv 
 
32 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Was it the air ? who can say ? or herself, or the 
 
 charm of the labor ? 
 But a new thing was in me ; and longing delicious 
 
 possessed me, 
 Longing to take her and lift her, and put her 
 
 away from her slaving : 
 "Was it to clasp her in lifting, or was it to lift her 
 
 by clasping, 
 Was it embracing or aiding was most in my mind ; 
 
 hard question ! 
 But a new thing was in me, I too was a youth 
 
 among maidens : 
 Was it the air, who can say ? but in part 't was 
 
 the charm of the labor. 
 I was too awkward, too shy, a great deal, be as- 
 sured, for advances, 
 Shyly I shambled away, stopping oft, but afraid 
 
 of returning. 
 Shambled obliquely away, with furtive occasional 
 
 sidelook, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 33 
 
 Long, though listless no more, in mj awkward 
 hobbadiaojhood. /r . 
 
 Still, though a new thing was in me, though vernal 
 emotion, the secret, 
 
 Yes, amid prurient talk, the unimparted mysteri- 
 ous secret 
 
 Long, the growing distress, and celled-up dishonor 
 of boyhood. 
 
 Recognized now took its place, a relation, oh bhss ! 
 unto others ; 
 
 Though now the poets, whom love is the key to, 
 revealed themselves to me. 
 
 And in my dreams by Miranda, her Ferdinand, 
 sat I unwearied. 
 
 Though all the fuss about girls, the giggling, and 
 toying, and coying. 
 
 Were not so strange as they had been, so incom- 
 prehensible purely ; 
 
 Still, as before, (and as now,) balls, dances, and 
 evening parties, 
 
 3 
 
34 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Shooting with bows, going shopping together, and 
 
 hearing them singing, 
 Danghng beside them, and turning the leaves on 
 
 the dreary piano, 
 Offering unneeded arms, performing dull farces of 
 
 escort. 
 Seemed like a sort of unnatural up-in-the-air bal- 
 loon-work, 
 (Or what to me is as hateful, a riding about in a 
 
 carriage,) 
 Utter divorcement from work, mother earth, and 
 
 objects of living. 
 As mere gratuitous trifling in presence of business 
 
 and duty, 
 As does the turning aside of the tourist to look at 
 
 a landscape 
 Seem in the steamer or coach to the merchant in 
 
 haste for the city. 
 Hungry and fainting for food you ask me to join 
 
 you in snapping — 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 35 
 
 What but a pink-paper comfit, with motto roman- 
 tic inside it ? 
 
 Wishing to stock me a garden, I 'm sent to a table 
 of nosegays ; 
 
 Pretty, I see it, and sweet ; but they hardly would 
 grow in my borders. 
 
 Better a crust of black bread than a mountain of 
 paper-confections, 
 
 Better a daisy in earth than a dahlia cut and 
 gathered, 
 
 Better a cowslip with root than a prize carnation 
 without it. 
 
 That I allow, said Adam. 
 
 But he with the bit in his teeth, — scarce 
 Breathed a brief moment, and hurried exultingly 
 
 on with his rider, 
 Far over hillock, and rvinnel, and bramble, away in 
 the champaign, 
 
86 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Snorting defiance and force, the white foam fleck- 
 ing his quarters, 
 
 Kein hanging loose to his neck, and head project- 
 ed before him. 
 
 Oh, if they knew and considered, unhappy ones ! 
 
 oh, could the J see, could 
 But for a moment discern, how the blood of true 
 
 gallantry kindles, 
 How the old knightly religion, the chivalry semi- 
 quixotic 
 Stirs in the veins of a man at seeing some delicate 
 
 woman 
 Serving him, toihng — for him, and the world ; 
 
 some tenderest girl, now 
 Over-weighted, expectant, of him, is it ? who shall, 
 
 if only 
 Duly her burden be hghtened, not wholly removed 
 
 from her, mind you, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 37 
 
 Lightened if but by the love, the devotion man 
 only can offer, 
 
 Grand on her pedestal rise as -urn-bearing statue 
 of Hellas ; — 
 
 Oh, could they feel at such moments how man's 
 heart, as into Eden 
 
 Carried anew, seems to see, like the gardener of 
 earth uncorrupted, 
 
 Eve from the hand of her Maker advancuig, an 
 helpmeet for him. 
 
 Eve from his own flesh taken, a spirit restored to 
 his spirit, 
 
 Spirit but not spirit only, himself whatever him- 
 self is. 
 
 Unto the mystery's end sole helpmate meet to be 
 with him ; — 
 
 Oh if they saw it and knew it ; we soon should see 
 them abandon 
 
 Boudoir, toilet, carriage, drawing-room, and ball- 
 room, 
 
38 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Satin for worsted exchange, gros-de-naples for 
 linsej-woolsej, 
 
 Sandals of silk for clogs, for health lackadaisical 
 fancies ! 
 
 So, feel women, not dolls ; so feel the sap of 
 existence 
 
 Circulate up through their roots from the far-awaj 
 centre of all things, 
 
 Circulate up from the depths to the bud on the 
 twig that is topmost ! 
 
 Yes, we should see them delighted, delighted our- 
 selves in the seeing. 
 
 Bending with blue cotton gown skirted-up over 
 striped linsey-woolsey. 
 
 Milking the kine in the field, hke Rachel^ water- 
 ing cattle, 
 
 Rachel, when at the well the predestined beheld 
 and kissed her, 
 
 Or, Avith pail upon head, like Dora beloved of 
 Alexis, 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 
 
 Comelj, Tvith well-poised pail over neck arching 
 
 soft to the shoulders, 
 Comelj in gracefuUest act, one arm uplifted to 
 
 stay it. 
 Home from the river or pump moving stately and 
 
 calm to the laundry ; 
 Aye, doing household work, as many sweet girls 
 
 I have looked at, 
 Needful household work, which some one, after 
 
 all, must do, 
 Needful, graceful therefore, as washing, cooking, 
 
 scouring. 
 Or, if you please, with the fork in the garden 
 
 uprooting potatoes. — 
 Or — high-kilted perhaps, cried Luidsay, at 
 
 last successful, 
 Lindsay, this long time swelling with scorn and 
 
 pent-up fury. 
 Or high-kilted perhaps, as once at Dundee I saw 
 
 them. 
 
40 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Petticoats up to the knees, or, it might be, a little 
 
 bit higher, 
 Matching their lilj-white legs with the clothes that 
 
 thej trod in the wash-tub ! 
 Laughter loud ensued ; and seeing the Tutor 
 
 embarrassed, 
 It was from them, I suppose, said Arthur, smiling 
 
 sedately, 
 Lindsay learnt the tune we all have learnt from 
 
 Lindsay, 
 For oli^ he iva% a roguey^ the Piper o' Bun- 
 dee. 
 Laughter ensued again ; and the Tutor still 
 
 slightly embarrassed. 
 Picked at the fallen thread, and commenced a 
 
 reply to Hewson. 
 There 's truth in what you say, though truly 
 
 much distorted ; 
 These, I think, no less than other agaceries, 
 
 cloy one ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 41 
 
 Still there 's truth, I own, I perfectly understand 
 
 you. 
 While the Tutor was gathering his thoughts, 
 
 continued Arthur, 
 Is not all this just the same that one hears at 
 
 common-room breakfasts. 
 Or perhaps Trinity wines, about Gothic buildings 
 
 and Beauty ? 
 And with a start from the sofa came Hobbes ; 
 
 with a cry from the sofa. 
 There where he lay, the great Hobbes, contem- 
 plative, corpulent, witty, 
 Author forgotten and silent of currentest phrase 
 
 and fancy, 
 Mute and exuberant by turns, a fountain at 
 
 intervals playing, 
 Mute and abstracted, or strong and abundant as 
 
 rain in the tropics ; 
 Studious ; careless of dress ; inobservant ; by 
 
 smooth persuasions 
 
42 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Lately decoyed into kilt on example of Hope and 
 
 the Piper, 
 Hope an Antinous mere, Hyperion of calves the 
 
 Piper. 
 Beautiful ! cried he upleaping, analogy perfect 
 
 to madness ! 
 inexhaustible source of thought, shall I call 
 
 it, or fancy ! 
 "Wonderful spring, at whose touch doors fly, what 
 
 a vista disclosing ! 
 Exquisite germ ! Ah no, crude fingers shall not 
 
 soil thee ; 
 Kest, lovely pearl, in my brain, and slowly mature 
 
 in the oyster. 
 While at the exquisite pearl they were laugh- 
 ing and corpulent oyster, 
 Ah, could they only be taught, he resumed, by a 
 
 Pugin of women. 
 How even churning and washing, the dairy, the 
 
 scullery duties, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 43 
 
 Wait but a touch to redeem and convert them to 
 
 charms and attractions, 
 Scrubbing requires for true grace but frank and 
 
 artistical handling, 
 And the removal of slops to be ornamentally 
 
 treated. 
 Philip who speaks like a book, retiring and 
 
 pausing he added, 
 Philip here, who speaks — like a folio, saj'st 
 
 thou, Piper ? 
 Phihp shall write us a book, a treatise upon Tlte 
 
 Laivs of 
 Arcliitectural Beauty in Application to Wom- 
 en ; 
 Illustrations, of course, and a Parker's Glossary 
 
 pendent, 
 "Where shall in specimen seen be the sculliony 
 
 s tumpy-columnar 
 (Which to a reverent taste is perhaps the most 
 
 moving of any,) 
 
44 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Rising to grace of true woman in English the 
 Earlj and Later, 
 
 Charming us still in fulfilUng the Richer and 
 Loftier stages, 
 
 Lost, ere we end, in the Lady-Debased and the 
 Ladj-Flambojant : 
 
 Thence why in satire and spite too merciless on- 
 ward pursue her 
 
 Hither to hideous close, Modern-Florid, modern- 
 fine-lady ? 
 
 No, I will leave it to you, my Philip, my Pugin of 
 women. 
 Leave it to Arthur, said Adam, to think of, 
 and not to play with. 
 
 You are young, you know, he said, resuming to 
 Philip, 
 
 You are young, he proceeded, with something of 
 fervor to Hewson, 
 
 You are a boy ; when you grow a man, you *11 
 find things alter. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 45 
 
 You will learn to seek the good, to scorn the at- 
 tractive, 
 
 Scorn all mere cosmetics, as now of rank and 
 fashion, 
 
 Dehcate hands, and wealth, so then of poverty 
 also. 
 
 Poverty truly attractive, more truly, I bear you 
 witness. 
 
 Good, wherever found, you will choose, be it hum- 
 ble or stately, 
 
 Happy if only you find, and finding do not lose 
 it. 
 
 Yes, we must seek what is good, it always and it 
 only ; 
 
 Not indeed absolute good, good for us, as is said 
 in the Ethics, 
 
 That which is good for ourselves, our proper 
 selves, our best selves ; 
 
 This if you find in another, desert not, whatever 
 you call it. 
 
46 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Call it a likeness of souls, call it anything else 
 
 you fancy, 
 Perfect response, if you please, to what would in 
 
 us be most perfect, 
 Answer most searching to what in ourselves is 
 
 profoundest and shyest : 
 This if you find in another, desert not, wherever 
 
 you find it, 
 Happy if only jou find, and finding do not lose 
 
 it! 
 Ah, you have much to learn, we can't know all at 
 
 twenty. 
 You are a boy, as I said ; when you grow a man, 
 
 you '11 say so. 
 This was the answer he had from the eager 
 
 impetuous Hewson : 
 Yes, I say it now, I know I 'm young ; and know, 
 
 too. 
 How the grown-up man puts-by the youthful in- 
 stinct, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 47 
 
 Learns to deal with the good, but what good is, 
 discerns not ; 
 
 Learns to handle the helm, but breaks the com- 
 pass to steer by ; 
 
 In the intuitive loses far more than his gain dis- 
 cursive ; 
 
 Or, in the lingo you love, the lingo emphatic of 
 Aldrich, 
 
 Gets up the form syllogistic, ignoring the premiss 
 and matter. 
 While he spoke, Adam rose, sat again, and 
 dropping his eyelids 
 
 Bowed his face in his hands, and rested his hands 
 on the table ; 
 
 So for a minute he sat — the one first minute of 
 silence ; 
 
 Looked up at last, and laughed, and answered, 
 speaking serenely. 
 
 Speaking serenely, but still with a moisture about 
 the eyehds. 
 
48 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Truly, queer fellow is Hewson ! for bidding liira 
 
 choose good only 
 Thus to upbraid me with years, chill years that 
 
 are thick'ning to forty. 
 Nay, never talk ! hsten now ! What I say you 
 
 can't apprehend — 
 No, you are looking elsewhere. You will not 
 
 ever, I fancy — 
 Till you ignore your premiss, repairing the loss by 
 
 a new one, 
 Till you discard your compass, if not for instruc- 
 tion in steering. 
 Yet to purchase a better and pay, I suppose, for 
 
 the purchase. 
 So much in repartee — but let us return to the 
 
 question. 
 Partly you rest on truth, old truth, the duty of 
 
 Duty, 
 Partly on error, you long for equality. 
 
 Aye, cried the Piper, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 49 
 
 That 's the sore place, that confounded Egalite, 
 
 French manufacture, 
 He is the same as the Chartist who made an ad- 
 dress in Ireland, 
 What, mid is not one man, fellow~7nen, as good 
 
 as another? 
 Faith, replied Pat, and a deal letter too ! 
 
 So rattled the Piper : 
 But undisturbed in his tenor, the Tutor. 
 
 Partly in error 
 Seeking equality, is not one tvoman as good as 
 
 another f 
 I with the Irishman answer Yes, better too; the 
 
 poorer 
 Better full oft than richer, than loftier better the 
 
 lower. 
 Irrespective of wealth and of poverty, pain and 
 
 enjoyment, 
 Women all have their duties, the one as well as 
 
 the other ; 
 
50 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Are all duties alike ? Do all alike fulfil them ? 
 
 It is to these we must look, and in these we are 
 not on a level ; 
 
 Neither in these, nor in gifts, nor attainments, nor 
 requirements. 
 
 However noble the dream of equality, mark you, 
 Phihp, 
 
 Nowhere equality reigns in God's sublime crea- 
 tions. 
 
 Star is not equal to star, nor blossom the same as 
 blossom ; 
 
 Herb is not equal to herb, any more than planet 
 to planet. 
 
 True, that the plant should be rooted in earth, I 
 granted you wholly. 
 
 And that the daisy in earth surpasses the cut 
 carnation. 
 
 Only, the rooted carnation surpasses the rooted 
 daisy : 
 
 There is one glory of daisies, another of carna- 
 tions ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 51 
 
 Foolisli were budding carnation, in gay parterre 
 by greenhouse, 
 
 Should it decline to accept the nurture the garden- 
 er gives it, 
 
 Should it refuse to expand to sun and genial sum- 
 mer. 
 
 Simply because the field-daisy, that grows in the 
 grass-plat beside it. 
 
 Cannot, for some cause or other, develope and be 
 a carnation. 
 
 Would not the daisy itself petition its scrupulous 
 neighbour ? 
 
 Up, grow, bloom, and forget me ; be beautiful even 
 to proudness. 
 
 E'en for the sake of myself and other poor daisies 
 like me. 
 
 Rooted in earth should it be, carnation alike or 
 daisy, 
 
 That I grant, and refer you to Shakspeare on 
 gillyflowers, 
 
52 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Where in the Wmter's Tale Leontes Perdita ques- 
 tions. 
 
 Education and manners, accomplishments, refine- 
 ments, 
 
 Waltz, peradventure, and polka, the knowledge of 
 music and drawing, 
 
 All these things are Nature's, to Nature dear and 
 precious. 
 
 We must all do something, man, woman alike, I 
 own it ; 
 
 Yes, but woman-and-man in ladj-and-gentleman is 
 not 
 
 Lost, extinct ; it lives ; if not, God help them, 
 change them ! 
 
 We must all do something, and in mj judgment 
 do it 
 
 In our station ; independent of it, but not regard- 
 less ; 
 
 Holding it, not for enjoyment, but because we 
 cannot change it. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 53 
 
 Ah ! replied Philip, Alas ! the noted phrase of 
 the prayer book, 
 
 Doing our duty in that state of life to which God 
 has called us, 
 
 Seems to me ahvays to mean, when the little rich 
 boys say it. 
 
 Standing in velvet frock by mama's brocaded 
 flounces, 
 
 Eying her gold-fastened book and the chain and 
 watch at her bosom, 
 
 Seems to me always to mean. Eat, drink, and never 
 mind others. 
 Nay, replied Adam, smihng, so far your econo- 
 my leads me. 
 
 Velvet and gold and brocade are nowise to my 
 fancy ; 
 
 Benefit of trade, I see, is mockery vile and delu- 
 sion. 
 
 Nay, he added, beheve me, I like luxurious 
 livino: 
 
54 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Even as little as you, and grieve in my soul not 
 
 seldom, 
 More for the rich indeed than the poor, who are 
 
 not so guilty. 
 Ah ! replied Phihp again, But as for the rest 
 
 of the story. 
 Truly I see a good deal in the daisy-carnation 
 
 fable ; 
 Though I should like to be clear what standing in 
 
 the earth means. 
 But, as you said to me when this long discussion 
 
 started. 
 There 's truth in what you say, though I donH 
 
 quite understand you. 
 So the discussion ended ; and Arthur rose up 
 
 smihng, 
 Now, quoth he, that Philip dare n't bully you 
 
 more, it is my turn. 
 How will my argument please you ? To-morrow 
 
 we start on our travel. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 55 
 
 And took up Hope the chorus. 
 
 To-morrow we start on our travel. 
 
 Lo the weather is golden, the weather-glass, say 
 they, rising ; 
 
 Four weeks here have we read ; four weeks will 
 we read hereafter ; 
 
 Three weeks hence will return and revisit our dis- 
 mal classics. 
 
 Three weeks hence readjust our visions of classes 
 and classics. 
 
 Fare ye well, meantime, forgotten, unnamed, un- 
 dreamt of 
 
 History, Science, and Poets ! lo, deep in dustiest 
 cupboard, 
 
 Thookydid, Oloros' son, Halimoosian, here lieth 
 buried ! 
 
 Slumber in Liddell-and-Scott, musical chaff of 
 Old Athens, 
 
 Dishes, and fishes, bird, beast, and sesquipedahan 
 blackguard ! 
 
56 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Sleep, weary Ghosts, be at peace, and abide in 
 
 your lexicon-limbo ! 
 Sleep, as in lava for ages your Herculanean 
 
 kindred, 
 Sleep, and for aught that I care, ' the sleep that 
 
 knows no waking,' 
 ^schylus, Sophocles, Homer, Herodotus, Pindar, 
 
 and Plato. 
 Three weeks hence be it time to exhume our 
 
 dreary classics. 
 And in the chorus joined Lindsay, the Piper, 
 
 the Dialectician. 
 Three weeks hence we return to the sJwj? and the 
 
 tvash-hand-standrhason* 
 Three weeks hence unbury TIdcJcsides and hai7y 
 
 Aldrich. 
 But the Tutor enquired, the grave man, nick- 
 named Adam, 
 
 Cottage and matutine. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 57 
 
 Who are they that go, and when do they promise 
 returning ? 
 And a silence ensued, and the Tutor himself 
 continued, 
 
 Airhe remains, I presume, he continued, and 
 Hobbes, and Hewson, 
 
 Lindsay and Arthur and Hope to verify Black 
 are a quorum. 
 Answer was made him by Philip, the poet, the 
 eloquent speaker. 
 
 Airlie remains, I presume, was the answer, and 
 Hobbes, peradventure ; 
 
 Tarry let Airlie May-fairly, and Hobbes, brief- 
 kilted hero, 
 
 Tarry let Hobbes in kilt, and Airlie ' abide in his 
 breaches ; ' 
 
 Tarry let these, and read, four Pindars apiece an 
 it like them ! 
 
 Weary of reading am I, and weary of walks pre- 
 scribed us ; 
 
58 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Weary of Ethic and Logic, of Rhetoric yet more 
 
 weary, 
 Eager to range over heather unfettered of gilhe 
 
 and marquis, 
 I will away with the rest, and bury my hairy 
 
 'Tottle. 
 And to the Tutor rejoining. Be mindful ; you 
 
 go up at Easter, 
 This was the answer returned by Phihp, the Pu- 
 
 gin of Women. 
 Good are the Ethics, I wis ; good absolute, not 
 
 for me, though ; 
 Good too Logic, of course ; in itself, but not in 
 
 fine weather. 
 Three weeks hence, with the rain, to Prudence, 
 
 Temperance, Justice, 
 Virtues I^Ioral and Mental, with Latin prose in- 
 cluded, 
 Three weeks hence we return, to cares of classes 
 
 and classics. 
 
TOPEE-NA-FUOSICH. 59 
 
 I will away with the rest, and burj my hairy 
 
 'Tottle. 
 But the Tutor enquired, the grave man, nick- 
 named Adam, 
 Where do you mean to go, and whom do you 
 
 mean to visit ? 
 And he was answered by Hope, the Viscount, 
 
 His Honor, of Hay. 
 Kitcat, a Trinity coach, has a party at Drumna- 
 
 drochet, 
 Up on the side of Loch Ness, in the beautiful 
 
 valley of Urquhart ; 
 Mainwaring says they will lodge us, and feed us, 
 
 and give us a lift too : 
 Only they talk ere long to remove to Glenmori- 
 
 son. Then at 
 Castleton high in Braemar, strange home, with 
 
 his earliest party, 
 Harrison, fresh from the schools, has James and 
 
 Jones and Lauder. 
 
60 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Thirdly, a Cambridge man I know, Smith, a senior 
 
 wrangler, 
 With a mathematical score hangs-out at Inve- 
 
 rarj. 
 Finally too, from the kilt and the sofa said 
 
 Hobbes in conclusion, 
 Finally Philip must hunt for that home of the 
 
 probable poacher. 
 Hid in the braes of Lochaber, the bothie of 
 
 What-did-he-call-it. 
 Hopeless of you and of us, of gilHes and mar- 
 
 quisses hopeless, 
 Weary of Ethic and Logic, of Rhetoric yet more 
 
 weary. 
 There shall he, smit by the charm of a lovely po- 
 
 tato-uprooter, 
 Study the question of sex in the Bothie of ^Yhat- 
 
 did-he-call-it. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 61 
 
 III. 
 
 Namque canebat uti 
 
 So in the golden morning they parted and went 
 to the westward. 
 
 And in the cottage with Airlie and Hobbes re- 
 mained the Tutor ; 
 
 Reading nine hours a day with the Tutor Hobbes 
 and Airlie ; 
 
 One between bathing and breakfast, and six be- 
 fore it was dinner, 
 
 (Breakfast at eight, at four, after bathing again, 
 the dinne'r,) 
 
 Finally, two after walking and tea, from nine to 
 eleven. 
 
V 
 
 62 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Airlie and Adam at evening their quiet stroll to- 
 gether 
 
 Took on the terrace-road, with the western hills 
 before them ; 
 
 Hobbes, only rarely a third, now and then in the 
 cottage remaining, 
 
 E'en after dinner, eupeptic, would rush yet again 
 to his reading ; 
 
 Other times, stung by the oestrum of some swift- 
 working conception. 
 
 Banged, tearing-on in his fury, an lo-cow, through 
 the mountains. 
 
 Heedless of scenery, heedless of bogs, and of 
 perspiration. 
 
 Far on the peaks, unwitting, the hares and ptar- 
 migan starting. 
 And the three weeks past, the three weeks, 
 three days over. 
 
 Neither letter had come, nor casual tidings 
 any. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICII. 
 
 63 
 
 And the pupils grumbled, the Tutor became 
 
 uneasy, 
 And in the golden weather they wondered, and 
 
 watched to the westward. 
 There is a stream, I name not its name, lest in- 
 quisitive tourist 
 Hunt it, and make it a lion, and get it at last into 
 
 guide-books, " 
 Springing far off from a loch unexplored in the 
 
 folds of great mountains, 
 Falling two miles through rowan and stunted alder, 
 
 enveloped 
 Then for four more in a forest of pine, where 
 
 broad and ample 
 Spreads to convey it the glen with heathery slopes 
 
 on both sides : 
 Broad and fair the stream, with occasional falls 
 
 and narrows ; 
 But, where the lateral glen approaches the vale of 
 
 the river. 
 
64 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Met and blocked by a huge interposing mass of 
 
 granite, 
 Scarce bj a channel deep-cut, raging up, and ra- 
 ging onward. 
 Forces its flood through a passage, so narrow, a 
 
 lad J -would step it. 
 There, across the great rocky wharves, a wooden 
 
 bridge goes, 
 Carrying a path to the forest ; below, three 
 
 hundred yards, say, 
 Lower in level some twenty-five feet, through flats 
 
 of shingle, 
 Stepping-stones and a cart-track cross in the open 
 
 valley. 
 But in the interval here the boiling, pent-up 
 
 water 
 Frees itself by a final descent, attaining a 
 
 basin, 
 Ten feet wide and eighteen long, with whiteness 
 
 and fury 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 65 
 
 Occupied partly, but mostly pellucid, pure, a 
 • mirror ; 
 
 Beautiful there for the color derived from green 
 rocks under ; 
 
 Beautiful, most of all, where beads of foam up- 
 rising 
 
 Mingle their clouds of white with the delicate hue 
 of the stillness. 
 
 Cliff over cHff for its sides, with rowan and pendent 
 birch boughs, 
 
 Here it lies, unthought of above at the bridge and 
 pathway, 
 
 Still more concealed from below by wood and 
 rocky projection. 
 
 You are shut in, left alone with yourself and per- 
 fection of water, 
 
 Hid on all sides, left alone with yourself and the 
 goddess of bathing. 
 Here, the pride of the plunger, you stride the 
 fall and clear it ; 
 
 5 
 
66 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Here, the deliglit of the bather, you roll in beaded 
 sparklings. 
 
 Here into pure green depth drop down from lofty 
 ledges. 
 Hither, a month agone, they had come, and dis- 
 covered ; hither 
 
 (Long a design, but long unaccountably left unac- 
 comphshed), 
 
 Leaving the well-known bridge and pathway above 
 to the forest, 
 
 Turning below from the track of the carts over 
 stone and shingle, 
 
 Piercing a wood, and skirting a narrow and natural 
 causeway 
 
 Under the rocky wall that hedges the bed of the 
 streamlet, 
 
 Rounded a craggy point, and saw on a sudden be- 
 fore them 
 
 Slabs of rock, and a tiny beach, and perfection of 
 water, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 67 
 
 Picture-like beauty, seclusion sublime, and the 
 
 goddess of bathing. 
 There they bathed, of course, and Arthur, the glo- 
 ry of headers, 
 Leapt from the ledges with Hope, he twenty feet, 
 
 he thirty ; 
 There, overbold, great Hobbes from a ten-foot 
 
 height descended. 
 Prone, as a quadruped, prone with hands and feet 
 
 protending ; 
 There in the sparkling champagne, ecstatic, they 
 
 shrieked and shouted. 
 " Hobbes's gutter " the Piper entitles the spot, 
 
 profanely, 
 Hope " the Glory " would have, after Arthur, the 
 
 glory of headers : 
 But, for before they departed, in shy and fugitive 
 
 reflex 
 Here in the eddies and there did the splendor of 
 
 Jupiter glimmer, 
 
68 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Adam adjudged it the name of Hesperus, star of 
 
 the evening. 
 Hither, to Hesperus, now, the star of evening 
 
 above them, 
 Come in their lonelier walk the pupils twain and 
 
 Tutor ; 
 Turned from the track of the carts, and passing 
 
 the stone and shingle, 
 Piercing the wood, and skirting the stream by the 
 
 natural causeway, 
 Rounded .the craggy point, and now at their ease 
 
 looked up ; and 
 Lo, on the rocky ledge, regardant, the Glory of 
 
 headers, 
 Lo, on the beach, expecting the plunge, not cigar- 
 less, the Piper. — 
 And they looked, and wondered, incredulous, 
 
 looking yet once more. 
 Yes, it was he, on the ledge, bare-limbed, an 
 
 Apollo, down-gazing, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 69 
 
 Eyeing one moment the beauty, the life, ere he 
 flung himself in it, 
 
 Eyeing through eddying green waters the green- 
 tinting floor underneath them, 
 
 Eyeing the bead on the surface, the bead, like a 
 cloud, rising to it, 
 
 Drinking-in, deep in his soul, the beautiful hue and 
 the clearness, 
 
 Arthur, the shapely, the brave, the unboasting, the 
 glory of headers ; 
 
 Yes, and with fragrant weed, by his knapsack, 
 spectator and critic, 
 
 Seated on slab by the margin, the Piper, the Cloud- 
 compeller. 
 Yes, they were come ; were restored to the 
 party, its grace and its gladness. 
 
 Yes, were here, as of old ; the light-giving orb of 
 the household, 
 
 Arthur, the shapely, the tranquil, the strength-and 
 contentment-difiusing, 
 
70 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 In the pure presence of whom none could quarrel 
 
 longj nor be pettish, 
 And, the gay fountain of mirth, their own dear 
 
 genial Piper. 
 Yes, they were come, were here : but Hewson 
 
 and Hope — where they then ? 
 Are they behind, travel-sore, or ahead, going 
 
 straight, by the pathway ? 
 And from his seat and cigar spoke the Piper, 
 
 the Cloud-compeller. 
 Hope with the uncle abideth for shooting. Ah 
 
 me, were I with him ! 
 Ah, good boy that I am, to have stuck to my 
 
 word and my reading ! 
 Good, good boy to be here, far away, who might 
 
 be at Balloch ! 
 Only one day to have staid who might have been 
 
 welcome for seven. 
 Seven whole days in castle and forest — gay in 
 
 the mazy 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 71 
 
 Moving, imbibing the rosy, and pointing a gun at 
 
 the horny ! 
 And the Tutor impatient, expectant, inter- 
 rupted, 
 Hope with the uncle, and Hewson — with him? or 
 
 where have you left him ? 
 And from his seat and cigar spoke the Piper, 
 
 the Cloud-compeller. 
 Hope with the uncle, and Hewson — Why Hewson 
 
 we left in Rannoch, 
 By the lochside and the pines, in a farmer's house, 
 
 — reflecting, — 
 Helping to shear,* and dry clothes, and it may be, 
 
 uproot potatoes. 
 Studying the question of sex, though not at What- 
 
 did-he-call-it. 
 And the Tutor's countenance fell, perplexed, 
 
 dumb-founded 
 
 Reap. 
 
72 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Stood he — slow and -with pain disengaging jest 
 from earnest. 
 He is not far from home, said Arthur from the 
 water, 
 He will be with us to-morrow, at latest, or the next 
 day. 
 And he was even more reassured by the Piper's 
 rejoinder. 
 Can he have come by the mail, and have got to 
 the cottage before us ? 
 So to the cottage they went, and Philip was 
 not at the cottage ; 
 But by the mail was a letter from Hope, who liim- 
 self was to follow. 
 Two whole days and nights succeeding brought 
 not Philip, 
 Two whole days and nights exhausted not question 
 and story. 
 For it was told, the Piper narrating, corrected 
 of Arthur, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 73 
 
 Often by word corrected, more often by smile and 
 
 motion, 
 How they had been to lona, to Staffa, to Skye, to 
 
 Culloden, 
 Seen Loch Awe, Loch Tay, Loch Fyne, Loch 
 
 Ness, Loch Arkaig, 
 Been up Ben-nevis, Ben-more, Ben-cruachan, Ben- 
 
 muick-dhui ; 
 How they had walked, and eaten, and drunken, 
 
 and slept in kitchens. 
 Slept upon floors of kitchens, and tasted the real 
 
 Glen-livat, 
 Walked up perpendicular hills, and also down 
 
 them. 
 Hither and thither had been, and this and that 
 
 had witnessed. 
 Left not a thing to be done, and had not a hrown 
 
 remaining. 
 For it was told withal, he telling, and he correct- 
 
74 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 How they had met, they beheved, with St. John, 
 
 the muckle-hart-slayer, 
 How in the race they had run, and beaten the 
 
 gilhes of Rannoch ; 
 How in forbiden glens, in Mar and midmost 
 
 Athol, 
 Philip insisting hotly, and Arthur and Hope com- 
 
 phant, 
 They had defied the keepers; the Piper alone 
 
 protesting, 
 Liking the fun, it was plain, in his heart, but 
 
 tender of game-law ; 
 Yea, too, in Mealy glen, the heart of Lochiel's 
 
 fair forest, 
 Wliere Scotch firs are darkest and amplest, and 
 
 intermingle 
 Grandly with rowan and ash — in Mar you have 
 
 no ashes, 
 There the pine is alone or relieved by birch and 
 
 alder — 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 75 
 
 How in Mealy fair, while stags were starting be- 
 fore — they 
 
 Made the watcher believe they were guests from 
 Achnacarry. 
 
 And there w^as told moreover, he telling, the 
 other correcting, 
 
 Often by word, more often by mute significant 
 motion. 
 
 Much of the Cambridge coach and his pupils at 
 Inverary, 
 
 Huge barbarian pupils, expanded in infinite se- 
 ries, 
 
 Firing-off signal guns (great scandal), from win- 
 dow to window 
 
 (For they were lodging perforce in distant and 
 numerous houses) 
 
 Signals, when, one retiring, another should go to 
 the Tutor : — 
 
76 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Much too of Kitcat, of course, and the party at 
 
 Drumnadrochet, 
 Mainwaring, Folej, and Fraser, their idleness 
 
 horrid and dog-cart ; 
 Drumnadrochet was seedy ^ Glenmorison adequate^ 
 
 but at 
 Castleton, high in Braemar, were the cUppingest 
 
 places for bathing, 
 One by the bridge in the village, indecent, the 
 
 Town-Hall christened. 
 Where howbeit had Lauder been bathing, and 
 
 Harrison also, 
 Harrison even, the Tutor, another hke Hesperus 
 
 here, and 
 Up the water of Eye, half-a-dozen at least, all 
 
 stunners. 
 And it was told, the Piper narrating and Ar- 
 thur correcting, 
 Coloring he, dilating, magniloquent, glorying in 
 
 picture, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 77 
 
 He to matter-of-fact still softening, paring, abat- 
 ing, 
 
 He to the great might-have-been upsoaring, sub- 
 lime and ideal, 
 
 He to the merest it-was restricting, diminishing, 
 dwarfing. 
 
 River to streamlet reducing, and fall to slope sub- 
 duing, 
 
 So was it told, the Piper narrating, corrected of 
 Arthur, 
 
 How under Linn of Dee, where over rocks, be- 
 tween rocks. 
 
 Freed from prison the river comes, pouring, roll- 
 ing, rushing, 
 
 Then at a sudden descent goes sliding, gliding, 
 unbroken, 
 
 Falling, sliding, gliding, in narrow space col- 
 lected. 
 
 Save for a curl at the end where the curve re- 
 joins the level. 
 
78 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Save for a ripple at last, a sheeted descent un- 
 broken, — 
 
 How to the element offering their bodies, down- 
 shooting the fall, they 
 
 Mingled themselves with the flood and the force 
 of imperious water. 
 
 • And it was told too, Arthur narrating, the Pi- 
 per correcting. 
 
 How, as one comes to the level, the weight of the 
 downward impulse 
 
 Carries the head under water, delicious, ineffable ; 
 how the 
 
 Piper, here ducked and blinded, got stray, and 
 borne-off by the current 
 
 Wounded his lily-white thighs, below, at the crag- 
 gy corner. 
 And it was told, the Piper resuming, corrected 
 of Arthur, 
 
 More by word than by motion, change ominous, 
 noted of Adam, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 79 
 
 How at the floating-bridge of Laggan, one morn- 
 ing at sunrise, 
 Came in default of the ferrjman out of her bed a 
 
 brave lassie ; 
 And, as Philip and she together were turning the 
 
 handles, 
 By which the chain is w^ound that works it across 
 
 the water. 
 Hands intermingled with hands, and at last, as 
 
 they stept from the boatie. 
 Turning about, they saw lips also mingle with 
 
 lips ; but 
 That was flatly denied and loudly exclaimed at 
 
 by Arthur : 
 How at the General's hut, the Inn by the Fall of 
 
 Foyers, 
 Where o'er the loch looks at you the summit of 
 
 Mealfourvonie, 
 How here too he was hunted at morning, and 
 
 found in the kitchen 
 
80 THE EOTHIE OF 
 
 "Watching the porridge being made, pronouncing 
 
 them* smoked for certain, 
 Watching the porridge being made, and asking 
 
 the lassie that made them, 
 What was the Gaelic for girl, and what was the 
 
 Gaehc for pretty ; 
 How in confusion he shouldered his knapsack, yet 
 
 blusliingly stammered, 
 Waving a hand to the lassie, that blushingly bent 
 
 o'er the porridge 
 Something outlandish — Slan-something, Slan leat, 
 
 he believed, Caleg Looach,f 
 That was the Gaelic it seemed for "I bid you 
 
 good-bye, bonnie lassie ; " 
 Arthur allowed it was true, not of Philip, but of 
 
 the Piper. 
 And it was told by the Piper, while Arthur 
 
 looked out at the window, 
 
 * Porridge is plural. t Caileag Laoghach. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 81 
 
 How in thunder and rain — it is wetter far to the 
 westward, 
 
 Thunder and rain and wind, losing heart and 
 road, they were welcomed, 
 
 AYelcomed, and three days detained at a farm by 
 the lochside of Eannoch ; 
 
 How in the three days' detention was Philip ob- 
 served to be smitten. 
 
 Smitten by golden-haired Katie, the youngest and 
 comeliest daughter : 
 
 "Was he not seen, even Arthur observed it, from 
 breakfast to bedtime. 
 
 Following her motions with eyes ever brightening, 
 softening ever ? 
 
 Did he not fume, fret, and fidget to find her stand 
 waiting at table ? 
 
 "Was he not one mere St. Vitus' dance, when he 
 saw her at nightfall 
 
 Go through the rain to fetch peat, through beat- 
 ing rain to the peat-stack ? 
 
82 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 How it SO happened a dance was given by Grant 
 
 of Glenurchie, 
 And with the farmer they went as the farmer's 
 
 guests to attend it, 
 Philip staid dancing till daylight, — and ever- 
 more with Katie ; 
 How the whole next afternoon he was with her 
 
 away in the shearing,* 
 And the next morning ensuing was found in the 
 
 ingle beside her 
 Kneeling, picking the peats from her apron, — 
 
 blowing together. 
 Both, between laughing, with lips distended, to 
 
 kindle the embers ; 
 Lips were so near to lips, one living cheek to 
 
 another, — 
 Though, it was true, he was shy, strangely shy, — 
 
 yet it was not nature, 
 
 * Reaping. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 83 
 
 Was not nature, the Piper averred, there shouldn't 
 
 be kissing ; 
 Then when they packed up their knapsack at 
 
 noon, and proposed to be starting, 
 Philip professed he was lame, would leave in the 
 
 morning and follow ; 
 Follow he did not ; do burns, when you go up a 
 
 glen, follow after ? 
 Follow he had not, nor left ; do needles leave the 
 
 loadstone ? 
 Nay too, they turned after starting, and looked 
 
 through the trees at the corner, 
 Lo, on the rocks by the lake there he was, the 
 
 lassie beside him, 
 Lo, there he was, stooping by her, and helping 
 
 with stones from the water 
 Safe in the wind to keep down the clothes she 
 
 would spread for the drying. 
 There had they left him, and there, if Katie was 
 
 there, was Philip, 
 
84 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 There drj^ng clothes, making fires, making love, 
 
 getting on too by this time, 
 Though he was shy, so exceedingly shy. 
 
 You may say so, said Arthur, 
 For the first time they had knoAvn with a peevish 
 
 intonation, — 
 Did not the Piper himself flirt more in a single 
 
 evening, 
 Namely, with Janet the elder, than Philip in all 
 
 our sojourn ? 
 Philip had staid, it was true ; the Piper was loth 
 
 to depart too. 
 Harder his parting from Janet than e'en from the 
 
 keeper at Balloch ; 
 And it was certain that PhiHp was lame. 
 
 Yes, in liis excuses, 
 Answered the Piper, indeed ! — 
 
 Nay, truly, said Hobbes, interposing, 
 Did you not say she was seen every day in her 
 
 beauty and bedgown 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 85 
 
 Doing plain household work, as washing, cooking, 
 scouring ? 
 
 How could he help but love her ? nor lacked there 
 of course the attraction 
 
 That in a blue cotton print tucked up over strip- 
 ed linsey-woolsej, 
 
 Barefoot, barelegged, he beheld her, with arms 
 bare up to the elbows. 
 
 Bending with fork in her hand in a garden up- 
 rooting potatoes ? 
 
 Is not Katie as Rachel, and is not Philip a Ja- 
 cob ? 
 
 Truly Jacob, supplanting an hairy Highland 
 Esau? 
 
 Shall he not, love-entertained, feed sheep for the 
 Laban of Rannoch ? 
 
 happy patriarch he, the long servitude ended of 
 wooing, 
 
 If when he wake in the morning he find not a 
 Leah beside him ! 
 
86 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 But the Tutor enquired, who had bit his lip to 
 
 bleeding, 
 How far off is the place ? who will guide me there 
 
 to-morrow ? 
 But by the mail, ere the morrow, came Hope, 
 
 and brought new tidmgs ; 
 Bound by Rannoch had come, and Philip was not 
 
 at Rannoch ; 
 He had left that noon, an hour ago. 
 
 With the lassie ? — 
 With her ? the Piper exclaimed, undoubtedly ! 
 
 By great Jingo ! 
 And upon that he arose, slapping both his thighs, 
 
 like a hero. 
 Partly, for emphasis only, to mark his conviction, 
 
 but also 
 Part, in delight at the fun, and the joy of eventful 
 
 living. 
 Really I did not enquire, answered Hope, but I 
 
 hardly think it ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 87 
 
 Janet, Piper, your friend, I saw, and she did n't 
 
 say so, 
 Though she asked a good deal about Phihp, and 
 
 where he was gone to : 
 One odd thing by the bye, he continued, befell me 
 
 while with her ; 
 Standing beside her, I saw^ a girl pass ; I thought 
 
 I had seen her, 
 Somewhat remarkable-looking, elsewhere ; and 
 
 asked what her name was ; 
 Elspie Mackaye, she answered, the daughter of 
 
 David ! she 's stopping 
 Just above there, with her uncle. And David 
 
 Mackaye where lives he ? 
 It ■ s away west, she replied, they call it Toper-na- 
 
 fuosich. 
 
88 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ut vidi, ut peril, ut me malus abstulit error. 
 
 So in the golden weather they waited. But Philip 
 
 came not. 
 Sunday six days thence a letter arrived in his 
 
 writing. — 
 But, Muse, that encompassest Earth like the 
 
 ambient ether, 
 Swifter than steamer or railway or magical missive 
 
 electric 
 Belting like Ariel the sphere with the star-like 
 
 trail of thy travel, 
 Thou with thy Poet, to mortals mere post-office 
 
 second-hand knowledge 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 89 
 
 Leaving, wilt seek in the moorland of Rannoch 
 
 the wandering hero. 
 There is it, there, or in lofty Lochaber, where, 
 
 silent up-heaving, 
 Heaving from ocean to sky, and under snow-winds 
 
 of September, 
 Visibly whitening at morn to darken by noon in 
 
 the shining, 
 Rise on their mighty foundations the brethren 
 
 huge of Bennevis ? 
 There, or westward away, where roads are un- 
 known to Loch Nevish, 
 And the great peaks look abroad over Skye to the 
 
 westermost islands ? 
 There is it ? there ? or there ? we shall find our 
 
 wandering hero ? 
 Here, in Badenoch, here, in Lochaber anon, in 
 Lochiel, in 
 Knoydart, Croydart, Moydart, Morrer, and Ard- 
 namurchan, 
 
90 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Here I see him and here : I see him ; anon I lose 
 him! 
 
 Even as cloud passing subtly unseen from moun- 
 tain to mountain, 
 
 Leaving the crest of Benmore to be palpable next 
 on BenvohrHch, 
 
 Or hke to hawk of the hill which ranges and soars 
 in its hunting, 
 
 Seen and unseen bj turns, now here, now in ether 
 eludent. 
 "V^Tierefore like cloud of Benmore or hawk over- 
 ranging the mountains, 
 
 '\Mierefore in Badenoch drear, in lofty Lochaber, 
 Lochiel, and 
 
 Knojdart, Crojdart, Mojdart, ^lorrer, and Ard- 
 namurchan, 
 
 Wandereth he, who should either with Adam be 
 studying logic, 
 
 Or by the lochside of Rannoch on Katie his 
 rhetoric using ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 91 
 
 He who, his three weeks past, past now long ago, 
 
 to the cottage 
 Punctual promised return to cares of classes and 
 
 classics, 
 He who smit to the heart by that youngest come- 
 
 liest daughter. 
 Bent, unregardful of spies, at her feet, spreading 
 
 clothes from her wash-tub ? 
 Can it be with him through Badenoch dearv, 
 
 Lochaber, Lochiel and 
 Knoydart, Croydart, Moydart, Morrer, and Ard- 
 
 namurchan. 
 Can it be with him he beareth the golden-haired 
 
 lassie of Eannoch ? 
 This fierce furious walking — o'er mountain-top 
 
 and moorland. 
 Sleeping in shieling and bothie, with drover on 
 
 hill-side sleeping. 
 Folded in plaid, where sheep are strewn thicker 
 
 than rocks by Loch Awen, 
 
92 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 This fierce furious travel unwearying, — cannot in 
 
 truth be 
 Merely the wedding tour succeeding the week of 
 
 wooing ! 
 No, wherever be Katie, with Philip she is not ; 
 
 I see him, 
 Lo, and he sitteth alone, and these are his words 
 
 in the mountain. 
 Souls of the dead, one fancies, can enter and be 
 
 with the living ; 
 Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her ! 
 Spirits escaped from the body can enter and be 
 
 with the living, 
 Entering unseen, and retiring unquestioned, they 
 
 bring, do they feel too ? 
 Joy, pure joy, as they mingle and mix inner es- 
 sence with essence ; 
 Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her ! 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 93 
 
 Jo J, pure joy, bringing -vvith them, and when they 
 retire leaving after 
 
 No cruel shame, no prostration, despondency; 
 memories rather 
 
 Sweet, happy hopes bequeathing. Ah ! wherefore 
 not thus with the living ? 
 
 "Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 go and uphold her ! 
 Is it impossible, say you, these passionate fer- 
 vent impulsions, 
 
 These projections of spirit to spirit, these inward 
 embraces, 
 
 Should in strange ways, in her dreams should vis- 
 it her, strengthen her, shield her ? 
 
 Is it possible, rather, that these great floods of 
 feeling 
 
 Setting-in daily from me towards her should, im- 
 potent wholly. 
 
 Bring neither sound nor motion to that sweet 
 shore they heave to ? 
 
94 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Efflux here, and there no stir nor pulse of m- 
 
 fluxl 
 It must reverberate surelj, reverberate idlv, it 
 
 may be. 
 Yea, hath He set us our bounds TNhich we shall 
 
 not pass, and cannot ? 
 Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her ! 
 Surely, surely, when sleepless I lie in the moun- 
 tain lamenting, 
 Surely, surely, she hears in her dreams a voice 
 
 ' I am with thee,' 
 Saying, 'although not with thee : behold, for we 
 
 mated our spirits. 
 Then, when we stood in the chamber, and knew 
 
 not the words we were saying ; ' 
 Yea, if she felt me within her, when not with one 
 
 finger I touched her. 
 Surely she knows it, and feels it, while sorrowing 
 
 here in the moorland. 
 
TOrER-NA-FUOSICH. 95 
 
 Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her ! 
 Spirits with spirits commingle and separate ; 
 
 lightly as winds do, 
 Spice-laden South with the ocean-born Zephyr ; 
 
 they mingle and sunder ; 
 No sad remorses for them, no visions of horror 
 
 and vileness ; 
 Elements fuse and resolve, as affinity draws and 
 
 repels them ; 
 We, if we touch, must remain, if attracted, cohere 
 
 to the ending, 
 Guilty we are if we do not, and yet if we would 
 
 we could not : 
 Would I w^ere dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her. 
 Surely the force that here sweeps me along in 
 
 its violent impulse, 
 Surely my strength shall be in her, my help and 
 
 protection about her, 
 
96 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Surelj in inner-sweet gladness and vigor of joy 
 
 shall sustain her, 
 Till, the brief winter o'er-past, her own true sap 
 
 in the springtide 
 Rise, and the tree I have bared be verdurous e'en 
 
 as aforetime; 
 Surely it may be, it should be, it must be. Yet 
 
 ever and ever, 
 Would I were dead, I keep saying, that so I could 
 
 go and uphold her ! 
 No, wherever be Katie, with Phihp she is not : 
 
 behold, for 
 Here he is sitting alone, and these are his words 
 
 in the mountain. 
 And, at the farm on the lochside of Rannoch 
 
 in parlour and kitchen 
 Hark! there is music — yea, flowing of music, 
 
 of milk, and of whiskey, 
 Dancing and drinking, the young and the old, the 
 
 spectators and actors, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 97 
 
 Never not actors the young, and the old not al- 
 
 waj spectators : 
 Lo, I see piping and dancing ! and whom in the 
 
 midst of the battle 
 Cantering loudly along there, or look you, with 
 
 arms uphfted 
 AYhistling, and snapping his fingers, and seizing 
 
 his gay-smiling Janet, 
 Whom ? — whom else but the Piper ? the wary 
 
 precognizant Piper, 
 Who, for the love of gay Janet, and mindful of 
 
 old invitation. 
 Putting it quite as a duty and urging grave claims 
 
 to attention. 
 True to his night had crossed over : there goeth 
 
 he, brimfull of music. 
 Like to cork tossed by the eddies that foam under 
 
 furious lasher. 
 Like to skiff lifted, uplifted, in loch by the swift- 
 swelling sluices, 
 
 7 
 
98 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 So with the music possessing him, swaying him, 
 
 goeth he, look you. 
 Swinging and flingmg, and stamping and tramp- 
 ing, and grasping and clasping 
 TVTiom but gay Janet? — Him rivalling Hobbes, 
 
 briefest-kilted of heroes 
 Enters, stoutest, rashest of creatures, mere 
 
 fool of a Saxon, 
 Skill-less of philabeg, skill-less of reel too, — the 
 
 whirl and the twirl o't : 
 Him see I frisking, and whisking, and ever at 
 
 swifter gyration 
 Under brief curtain reveahng broad acres — not 
 
 of broad cloth. 
 Him see I there and the Piper — the Piper what 
 
 vision beholds not ? 
 Him and his Honor and Arthur, mth Janet our 
 
 Piper, and is it. 
 Is it, marvel of marvels ! he too in the maze of 
 
 the mazy. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 99 
 
 Skipping, and tripping, though stately, though 
 languid, with head on one shoulder, 
 
 Airhe, with sight of the waistcoat the golden-hair- 
 ed Katie consoling ? 
 
 Katie, who simple and comely, and smiling, and 
 blushing as ever, 
 
 What though she wear on that neck a blue ker- 
 chief remembered as Philip's, 
 
 Seems in her maidenly freedom to need small con- 
 solement of waistcoats ! — 
 Wherefore in Badenoch then, far-away, in Loch- 
 aber, Lochiel, in 
 
 Knoydart, Croydart, Moydart, Morrer, or Ardna- 
 murchan, 
 
 Wanders o'er mountain and moorland, in shiehng 
 or bothie is sleeping, 
 
 He, who, — and why should he not then ? capric- 
 ious ? or is it rejected ? 
 
 Might to the piping of Rannoch be pressing the 
 thrilling fair fingers, 
 
100 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Might, as he clasped her, transmit to her bosom 
 the throb of his own, — yea, — 
 
 Might in the joy of the reel be wooing and win- 
 ning his Katie ? 
 What is it Adam reads far off by himself in 
 the Cottage ? 
 
 Reads yet again with emotion, again is preparing 
 to answer ? 
 
 Answered before too it had been at once, on the 
 spur of the moment, 
 
 Answered, but oft reconsidered, and after-thought 
 needs will be spoken. 
 
 What is it Adam is reading ? A^Hiat was it, Phihp 
 had written ? 
 There was it writ, how Philip possessed un- 
 doubtedly had been, 
 
 Deeply, entirely possessed by the charm of the 
 maiden of Rannoch ; 
 
 Deeply as never before ! how^sweet and bewitch- 
 ing he felt her 
 
TOrER-NA-FUOSICH. 101 
 
 Seen still before him at work, in the garden, the 
 
 bjre, the kitchen ; 
 How it was beautiful to him to stoop at her side 
 
 in the shearing, 
 Binding uncouthly the ears, that fell from her 
 
 dexterous sickle, 
 Building uncouthlj the stooks,* which she laid-by 
 
 her sickle to straighten ; 
 How at the dance he had broken through shyness ; 
 
 for four days after 
 Lived on her eyes, unspeaking what lacked not 
 
 articulate speaking ; 
 How in the room where he slept he met her clean- 
 ing and dusting. 
 How he unmeaningly talked of clothes for the 
 
 washing, — of this thing. 
 That thing, and still as he spoke felt folded unto 
 
 her, united, 
 
 * Shocks. 
 
102 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Yea, without touch united, essentially, bodily with 
 
 her. 
 Felt too that she too was feeling what he did, — 
 
 howbeit thev parted ! 
 How by a kiss from her lips he had seemed made 
 
 nobler and stronger. 
 Yea, for the first time in life a man complete and 
 
 perfect, 
 So forth ! much that before too was heard of — 
 
 Howbeit they parted. 
 What had ended it all was singular, said he, 
 
 very. 
 I was walking along some two miles from the 
 
 cottage 
 Full of my dreamings — a girl went by in a party 
 
 with others ; 
 She had a cloak on, was stepping on quickly, for 
 
 rain was beginning ; 
 But as she passed, from the hood I saw her eyes 
 
 look at me. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 103 
 
 So quick a glance, so regardless I, that although 
 
 I felt it, 
 You could n't properly say our eyes met. She 
 
 cast it, and left it : 
 It was three minutes perhaps ere I knew what it 
 
 was. I had seen her 
 Somewhere before I am sure, but that was n't it ; 
 
 not its import ; 
 No, it had seemed to regard me with simple 
 
 superior insight. 
 Quietly saying to itself — Yes, there he is still in 
 
 his fancy. 
 Letting drop from him at random as things not 
 
 worth considering 
 All the benefits gathered and put in his hands by 
 
 fortune, 
 Loosing a hold which others, content and unambi- 
 tious. 
 Trying down here to keep-up, know the value of 
 
 better than he does. 
 
10-1 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Was it this ? was it perhaps ? — Yes there he is 
 
 still in his fancy, 
 , Does n't yet see we have here just the things he is 
 
 used-to elsewhere, 
 And that the things he likes here, elsewhere he 
 
 would n't have looked at. 
 People here too are people, and not as fairy-land 
 
 creatures ; 
 He is in a trance, and possessed ; I wonder how 
 
 long to continue ; 
 It is a shame and a pity — and no good hkely to 
 
 follow. 
 Something hke this, but indeed I cannot the least 
 
 define it. 
 Only, three hours thence I was off and away in 
 
 the moorland. 
 Hiding myself from myself if I could ; the arrow 
 
 within me. 
 Katie was not in the house, thank God : I saw her 
 
 in passing, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 105 
 
 Saw her, unseen myself, with the pang of a cruel 
 
 desertion, 
 Poignant enough ; which however but made me 
 
 walk the faster, 
 Like a terrible spur running into one's vitals, and 
 
 through them, 
 Turning me all into pain and sending me off, I 
 
 suppose hke 
 One that is shot to the heart and leaps in the air 
 
 in his dying. 
 "What dear Katie thinks, God knows ; poor child ; 
 
 may she only 
 Think me a fool and a madman, and no more 
 
 worth her remembering. 
 Meantime all through the mountains I tramp and 
 
 know not whither, 
 Tramp along here, and think, and know not what 
 
 I should think. 
 Tell me then, why as I sleep amid hill tops 
 
 high in the moorland, 
 
106 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Still in my dreams I am pacing the streets of the 
 
 dissolute city, 
 Where dressy girls slithering-by upon pavements 
 
 give sign for accosting, 
 Paint on their beautiless cheeks, and hunger and 
 
 shame in their bosoms ; 
 Hunger by drink and by that which they shudder 
 
 yet burn for, appeasing, — 
 Hiding their shame — ah God, in the glare of the 
 
 public gas hghts ? 
 Why while I feel my ears catching through slum- 
 ber the run of the streamlet, 
 Still am I pacing the j)avement, and seeing the 
 
 sign for accosting. 
 Still am I passing those figures, nor daring to look 
 
 in their faces ? 
 Why when the chill, ere the light, of the daybreak 
 
 uneasily wakes me, 
 Find I a cry in my heart crying up to the heaven 
 
 of heavens. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 107 
 
 No, Great Unjust Judge ; she is purity ; I am the 
 
 lost one : 
 No, I defy Thee, strike not ; crush me, if thou 
 
 wilt, who deserve it. 
 You will not think that I soberly look for such 
 
 things for sweet Katie, 
 Contemplate really, as possible even, a thing that 
 
 would make one 
 Think death luxury, seek death, to get at damna- 
 tion beyond it. 
 No, but the vision is on me ; I now first see how 
 
 it happens, 
 Feel how tender and soft is the heart of a girl ; 
 
 how passive 
 Fain would it be, how helpless ; and helplessness 
 
 leads to destruction. 
 Maiden reserve torn from off it, grows never again 
 
 to reclothe it. 
 Modesty broken-through once to immodesty flies 
 
 for protection, 
 
108 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Desperate, braving when weakest the greatest and 
 direst of dangers ; 
 
 Thinks to be bold and defiant at all times, cannot 
 at all times. 
 
 Think by ignoring to fill-up that breach which ig- 
 noring but widens. 
 
 Oh, who saws through the trunk, though he leave 
 the tree up in the forest, 
 
 When the next wind casts it down, — is his not 
 the hand that smote it ? 
 
 Yea, and who barketh the tree, is even as he that 
 felleth. 
 
 This is the answer, the second, which, ponder- 
 ing long with emotion. 
 There by himself in the cottage the Tutor ad- 
 dressed to Philip. 
 
 I w^as severe in mj last, mj dear Philip, and 
 hasty ; forgive me ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 109 
 
 Yes, I -was fain to reply ere I duly had read 
 through your letter ; 
 
 But it was written in scraps with crossings and 
 counter-crossings 
 
 Hard to connect with each other correctly, and 
 hard to decipher ; 
 
 Paper was scarce, I suppose: forgive me ; I write 
 to console you. 
 Grace is given of God, but knowledge is bought 
 in the market ; 
 
 Knowledge needful for all, yet cannot be had for 
 the asking. 
 
 There are exceptional beings, one fincts them dis- 
 tant and rarely, 
 
 Who, endowed with the vision alike and the inter- 
 pretation. 
 
 See, by their neighbours' eyes, and their own still 
 motions enlightened, 
 
 In the beginning the end, in the acorn the oak of 
 the forest, 
 
110 THE EOTHIE OF 
 
 In the child of to-daj its children to long genera- 
 tions, 
 
 In a thought or a -sv-ish a life, a drama, an 
 epos. 
 
 There are inheritors, is it ? by mystical genera- 
 tion, 
 
 Heiring the wisdom and ripeness of spirits gone- 
 bj ; without labor 
 
 Owning what others bj doing and suffering earn ; 
 what old men 
 
 After long years of mistake and erasure are 
 proud to have come to, 
 
 Sick with mistake and erasure possess when pos- 
 session is idle. 
 
 Yes, there is power upon earth, seen feebly in 
 women and children. 
 
 Which can, laying one hand on the cover, read-off, 
 unfaltering, 
 
 Leaf after leaf unlifted, the words of the closed 
 book under, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Words which we are poring at, hammering at, 
 
 stumblmg at, spelhng. 
 Rare is this ; to many in pittance and modicum 
 
 given, 
 Woridng, an instinct blind, in woman and child 
 
 and rustic. 
 Rare in full measure, and often e'en then too 
 
 maimed and hampered ; 
 When with the power of speech, and the spirit 
 
 united of music, 
 Lo, a new day has dawned, and the ages wait upon 
 
 ^hakspeare — 
 Rare is this ; wisdom mostly is bought for a price 
 
 in the market, — 
 Rare is this ; and happy, who buy so much for so 
 
 little. 
 As I conceive have you, and as I will hope has 
 
 Katie. 
 Knowledge is needful for man — needful no less 
 
 for woman, 
 
112 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Even in Highland glens, were they vacant of 
 shooter and tourist. 
 Not that, of course, I mean to prefer your 
 blindfold hurry 
 
 Unto a soul . that abides most loving yet most 
 withholding ; 
 
 Least unfeeling though calm, self-contained yet 
 most unselfish ; 
 
 Renders help and accepts it, a man among men 
 that are brothers. 
 
 Views, not plucks the beauty, adores, and demands 
 no embracing. 
 
 So in its peaceful passage whatever is lovely and 
 gracious 
 
 Still without seizing or spoiling, itself in itself re- 
 producing. 
 
 No, I do not set PhiHp herein on the level of 
 Arthur, 
 
 No, I do not compare still tarn with furious tor- 
 rent. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 113 
 
 Yet will the tarn overflow, assuaged in the lake 
 
 be the torrent. 
 "Women are weak as you say, and love of all 
 
 things to be passive, 
 Passive, patient, receptive, yea even of wrong 
 
 and misdoing. 
 Even to force and misdoing with joy and victori- 
 ous feeling 
 Passive, patient, receptive ; for that is the strength 
 
 of their being, 
 Like to the earth taking all things and all to good 
 
 converting. 
 Oh 't is a snare indeed ! — Moreover, remember 
 
 it, Philip, 
 To the prestige of the richer the lowly are prone 
 
 to be yielding. 
 Think that in dealing with them they are raised 
 
 to a different region ; 
 Where old laws and morals are modified, lost, exist 
 
 not ; 
 
114 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Ignorant they as tliej are, tliej have but to con- 
 form and be yielding ; 
 
 There to protect and to guide them the old ' T is 
 not usual avails not, 
 
 But of a new ^Tis not right must the soul be with 
 travail delivered, 
 
 Yea, — itself of itself engender and bear the 
 protector. 
 
 How shall a poor quiet girl self-create the law and 
 commandment ? 
 
 How shall a poor silly sheep get endowed with the 
 will of a woman ? 
 But I said this in my letter before, and need 
 not repeat it. 
 
 You will have seen yourself the danger of pantry- 
 flirtation, 
 
 You will not now run after what merely attracts 
 and entices, 
 
 Every-day things highly colored, and common- 
 place carved and gilded. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICIL 115 
 
 You ■\Yill henceforth seek only the good ; and seek 
 it, Phihp, 
 
 Where it is — not more abundant perhaps, but — 
 more easily met with ; 
 
 Where you are surer to find it, less likely to run 
 into error, 
 
 In your station, regardful of that, though not de- 
 pendent. 
 
 But as I said, I have said this before and need 
 not repeat it. 
 So was the letter completed : a postscript after- 
 ward added. 
 
 Telling the tale that was told by the dancers re- 
 turning from Rannoch. 
 
 So was the letter completed : but query, whither 
 to send it ? 
 
 Not for the will of the wisp, the cloud, and the 
 hawk of the moorland. 
 
 Ranging afar through Lochaber, Lochiel, and 
 Knoydart, and Croydart, 
 
116 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Have even latest extensions adjusted a postal 
 
 arrangement. 
 Query, resolved very shortly when Hope from his 
 
 chamber descending, 
 Came with a note in his hand from the Lady, his 
 
 aunt, of Hay ; 
 Came and revealed the contents of a missive that 
 
 brought strange tidings ; 
 Came and announced to the friends in a voice that 
 
 was husky with wonder, 
 Philip was staying at Balloch, was there in the 
 
 room with the Countess, 
 Philip to Balloch had come and was dancing with 
 
 Lady Maria. 
 Philip at Balloch, he said, after all that stately 
 
 refusal. 
 He there at last — strange ! marvel, marvel 
 
 of marvels ! 
 Airlie, the Waistcoat, with Katie, we left him this 
 
 morning at Rannoch ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 117 
 
 Airlie with Katie, he said, and Philip with Lady 
 
 Maria. 
 And amid laughter Adam paced up and down, 
 
 repeating 
 Over and over, unconscious, the phrase which 
 
 Hope had lent him, 
 Dancing at Balloch, you say, in the castle, with 
 
 Lady Maria. 
 
118 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Putavi 
 
 Stultus ego huic nostrse siinilerii. 
 
 So in the cottage with Adam the pupils five to- 
 gether 
 
 Duly remained, and read, and looked no more for 
 Philip, 
 
 Philip at Balloch shooting and dancing with Lady 
 Maria. 
 
 Breakfast at eight, and now, for brief September 
 dayhght. 
 
 Luncheon at two, and dinner at seven, or even 
 later, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 119 
 
 Five full hours between for the loch and the glen 
 and the mountain, — 
 
 So in the joj of their Hfe and glory of shooting 
 jackets, 
 
 So thej read and roamed, the pupils five with 
 Adam. 
 What if autumnal shower came frequent and 
 chill from the westward, 
 
 What if on browner sward with yellow leaves be- 
 sprinkled 
 
 Gemming the crispy blade, the delicate gossamer 
 gemming. 
 
 Frequent and thick lay at morning the chilly bead 
 of hoar frost. 
 
 Duly in matutine still, and daily, whatever the 
 w^eather. 
 
 Bathed in the rain and the frost and the mist with 
 the Glory of headers 
 
 Hope. Thither also at times of cold and of possi- 
 ble gutters 
 
120 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Careless, unmindful, unconscious, would Hobbes, 
 or e'er they departed. 
 
 Come, in a heavy pea-coat his trouserless trunk 
 enwrapping. 
 
 Come, under coat over-brief those lusty legs dis- 
 playing, 
 
 All from the shirt to the slipper the natural man 
 revealing. 
 Duly there they bathed, and daily, the twain or 
 the trio, 
 
 There where of mornings was custom, where over 
 a ledge of granite 
 
 Into a granite bason descended the amber tor- 
 rent ; 
 
 Beautiful, very, to gaze-in ere plunging ; beauti- 
 ful also, 
 
 Perfect as picture, as vision entrancing that comes 
 to the sightless, 
 
 Through the great granite jambs the stream and 
 glen and mountain. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 121 
 
 Purple with heather the mountam, the level stream 
 in foreground ; 
 
 Beautiful, seen by snatches in intervals of dress- 
 ing, 
 
 Morn after morn, unsought for, recurring ; them- 
 selves too seeming 
 
 Kot as spectators, accepted into it, immingled, as 
 truly 
 
 Part of it as are the kine in the field lying there 
 by the birches. 
 So they bathed, they read, they roamed in glen 
 and forest ; 
 
 Par amid blackest pines to the waterfall they 
 shadow, 
 
 Far up the long long glen to the loch, and the 
 loch beyond it. 
 
 Deep under huge red cliffs, a secret : and oft by 
 the starhght. 
 
 Or the aurora perchance, racing home for the 
 eight o'clock mutton. 
 
122 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 So they bathed, and read, and roamed in heathery 
 
 Highland ; 
 There in the joy of their Hfe and glory of shooting 
 
 jackets, 
 Bathed and read and roamed, and looked no more 
 
 for Philip. 
 
 List to a letter that came from Phihp at Balloch 
 
 to Adam. 
 I am here, my friend ! — idle, but learning 
 wisdom. 
 Doing penance, you think ; content, if so, in my 
 
 penance. 
 You have conjectured a change must have come 
 
 to my mind : I believe it ! 
 You will believe it too ; if I tell you the thoughts 
 that haunt me ! 
 Often I find myself saying, while watching in 
 dance or on horseback 
 
TOPER-x\A-FUOSICH. 123 
 
 One that is here, in her freedom, and grace, and 
 imperial sweetness. 
 
 Often I find mjself saying, old faith and doctrine 
 abjuring, 
 
 Into the crucible casting philosophies, facts, con- 
 victions, — 
 
 Were it not well that the stem should be naked of 
 leaf and of tendril, 
 
 Poverty-stricken, the barest, the dismallest stick 
 of the garden ; 
 
 Flowerless, leafless, unlovely, for ninety-and-nine 
 long summers. 
 
 So in the hundredth, at last, were bloom for one 
 day at the summit. 
 
 So but that fleeting flower were lovely as Lady 
 Maria. 
 Often I find myself saying, and know not my- 
 self as I say it. 
 
 What of the poor and the weary ? their labor and 
 pain is needed. 
 
124 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Perish the poor and the wearj ! what can thej 
 
 better than perish, 
 Perish in labor for her, who is worth the destruc- 
 tion of empires ? 
 What ! for a mite, or a mote, an impalpable odor 
 
 of honor, 
 Armies shall bleed ; cities burn ; and the soldier 
 
 red from the storming 
 Carry hot rancor and lust into chambers of 
 
 mothers and daughters : 
 What ! would ourselves for the cause of an hour 
 
 encounter the battle. 
 Slay and be slain; lie rotting in hospital, hulk, 
 
 and prison ; 
 Die as a dog dies ; die secure that to uttermost 
 
 ages 
 Not one ray shall illumine our midnight of shame 
 
 and dishonor, • 
 Yea, till in silence the fingers stand still on the 
 
 world's great dial 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 125 
 
 Fathers and mothers, the gentle and good of un- 
 born generations, 
 
 Shall to their little ones point out our names for 
 their loatliing and horror ? 
 
 Yea ? — and shall hodmen in beer-shops complain 
 of a glory denied them, 
 
 Which could not ever be theirs more than now it 
 is theirs as spectators ? 
 
 Which could not be, in all earth, if it were not for 
 labor of hodmen ? 
 And I find myself saying and what I am saying, 
 discern not. 
 
 Dig in thy deep dark prison, miner ! and find- 
 ing be thankful ; 
 
 Though unpolished by thee, unto thee unseen in 
 perfection, 
 
 While thou art eating black bread in the poison- 
 ous air of thy cavern, 
 
 Far away glitter the gem on the peerless neck of 
 a Princess. 
 
126 THE EOTHIE OF 
 
 Dig, and starve, and be thankful ; it is so, and 
 
 thou hast been aiding. 
 Often I find myself saying, in irony is it, or 
 
 earnest ? 
 Yea, what is more, be rich, ye rich ! be sublime 
 
 in great houses. 
 Purple and delicate linen endure ; be of Burgundy 
 
 patient ; 
 SuiFer that service be done you, permit of the page 
 
 and the valet. 
 Vex not your souls with annoyance of charity 
 
 schools or of districts. 
 Cast not to swine of the sty the pearls that should 
 
 gleam in your foreheads. 
 Live, be lovely, forget them, be beautiful even to 
 
 proudness, 
 Even for their poor sakes whose happiness is to 
 
 behold you : 
 Live, be uncaring, be joyous, be sumptuous ; only 
 
 be lovely, — 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 127 
 
 Sumptuous not for display, and jojous, not for en- 
 joyment ; 
 
 Not for enjoyment truly ; for Beauty and God's 
 great glory ! 
 Yes, and I say, and it seems inspiration — of 
 Good or of Evil ! 
 
 Is it not He that hath done it and who shall dare 
 gainsay it ? 
 
 Is it not even of Him, who hath made us ? — 
 Yea, for the Rons 
 
 Roaring after their prey, do seek their meat from 
 God! 
 
 Is it not even of Him, hwo one kind over 
 another 
 
 All the works of His hand hath disposed in a won- 
 derful order ? 
 
 "Who hath made man, as the beasts, to live the one 
 on the other, 
 
 Who hath made man as Himself to know the law 
 — and accept it ! 
 
128 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 You will wonder at this, my friend ! I also 
 
 wonder ! 
 But we must live and learn; we can't know all 
 
 things at twenty. 
 List to a letter of Hobbes to Philip his friend at 
 
 Balloch. 
 All Cathedrals are Christian, all Christians are 
 
 Cathedrals, 
 Such is the orthodox doctrine ; 't is ours with a 
 
 slight variation ; 
 Every "Woman is, or should be a Cathedral, 
 Built on the ancient plan, a Cathedral pure and 
 
 perfect. 
 Built by that only law, that Use be suggestor of 
 
 Beauty, 
 Naught be concealed that is done, but all things 
 
 done to adornment. 
 Meanest utilities seized as occasions to grace and 
 
 embellish. — 
 So had I duly commenced in the spirit and style 
 
 of my Philip, 
 
TOPER-NA-PUOSICH. 129 
 
 So had I formally opened the Treatise upon the 
 Laws of 
 
 Architectural Beauty in Application to Women, 
 
 So had I writ. — But my fancies are palsied by 
 tidings they tell me, 
 
 Tidings — ah me, can it be then ? that I the 
 blasphemer accounted, 
 
 Here am with reverent heed at the wondrous anal- 
 ogy working. 
 
 Pondering thy words and thy gestures, whilst 
 thou, a poet apostate, 
 
 (How are the mighty fallen !) whilst thou, a shep- 
 herd travestie, 
 
 (How are the mighty fallen !) with gun, — with 
 pipe no longer, 
 
 Teachest the woods to re-echo thy game-killing 
 recantations, 
 
 Teachest thy verse to exalt Amryllis, a Countess' 
 dauo;hter ? 
 
130 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 What, thou forgettest, bewildered, my Master, 
 
 that rightly considered 
 Beauty must ever be useful, what truly is useful 
 
 is graceful ? 
 She that is handy is handsome, good dairy-maids 
 
 must be good looking, 
 If but the butter be nice, the tournure of the elbow 
 
 is shapely, 
 If the cream-cheeses be white, far whiter the 
 
 hands that made them. 
 If — but alas, is it true ? while the pupil alone in 
 
 the cottage 
 Slowly elaborates here thy system of feminine 
 
 graces. 
 Thou in the palace, its author, art dining, small- 
 talking and dancing. 
 Dancing and pressing the fingers kid-gloved of a 
 
 Lady Maria. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 131 
 
 These are the final words, that came to the 
 
 Tutor from Balloch. 
 Yes, jou have conquered, my friend ! you will 
 
 meet me, I hope, in Oxford, 
 Altered in manners and mind. I yield to the laws 
 
 and arrangements, 
 Yield to the ancient existent decrees : who am I 
 
 to resist them ? 
 Yes, you will find me altered in mind, I think, as 
 
 in manners. 
 Anxious too to atone for six weeks' loss of your 
 
 Logic. 
 
 So in the cottage with Adam, the Pupils five 
 together, 
 Read, and bathed, and roamed, and thought not 
 
 now of Philip, 
 All in the joy of their life, and glory of shooting 
 jackets. 
 
132 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina, ducite Daplinin. 
 
 Bright October was come, the misty-bright Oc- 
 tober, 
 
 Bright October was come to burn and glen and 
 cottage ; 
 
 But the cottage was empty, the matutine de- 
 serted. 
 Who are these that walk by the shore of the 
 salt sea water ? 
 
 Here in the dusky eve, on the road by the salt 
 sea water ? 
 Who are these ? and where ? it is no sweet 
 seclusion ; 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 133 
 
 Blank hill sides slope down to a salt sea loch at 
 
 their bases, 
 Scored by runnels, that fringe ere they end with 
 
 rowan and alder ; 
 Cottages here and there out-standing bare on the 
 
 mountain. 
 Peat-roofed, windowless, white ; the road under- 
 neath by the water. 
 There on the blank hill side, looking down 
 
 through the loch to the ocean, 
 There with a runnel beside, and pine trees twain 
 
 before it. 
 There with the road underneath, and in sight of 
 
 coaches and steamers, 
 Dwelhng of David Mackaye and his daughters 
 
 Elspie and Bella, 
 Sends up a column of smoke the Bothie of Toper- 
 
 na-fuosich. 
 And of the older twain, the elder was telling 
 
 the younger, 
 
134 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 How on his pittance of soil he hved, and raised 
 
 potatoes, 
 Barley, and oats, in the bothie where lived his 
 
 father before him ; 
 Yet was smith by trade, and had travelled making 
 
 horse-shoes 
 Far, in the army had seen some service with brave 
 
 Sir Hector, 
 Wounded soon, and discharged, disabled as smith 
 
 and soldier ; 
 He had been many things since that, — drover, 
 
 school-master. 
 Whitesmith, — but when his brother died childless 
 
 came up hither ; 
 And although he could get fine work that would 
 
 pay, in the city, 
 Still was fain to abide where his father abode be- 
 fore him. 
 And the lassies are bonnie, — I 'm father and 
 
 mother to them, — 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 135 
 
 Bonnie and young; thej 're healthier here, I 
 judge, and safer : 
 
 I mjself find time for their reading, writing, and 
 learning. 
 So on the road they walked by the shore of 
 the salt sea water. 
 
 Silent a youth and maid, and elders twain con- 
 versing. 
 
 This was the letter that came when Adam was 
 
 leaving the cottage. 
 If you can manage to see me before going off to 
 
 Dartmoor, 
 Come by Tuesday's coach through Glencoe (you 
 
 have not seen it) 
 Stop at the ferry below, and ask your way (you 
 
 will wonder. 
 There however I am) to the Bothie of Toper-na- 
 
 fuosich. 
 
136 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And on another scrap, of next daj's date, was 
 
 written : 
 It was by accident purely I lit on the place ; I 
 
 was going 
 Quietly, travelling homeward, by one of these 
 
 wretched coaches ; 
 One of the horses cast a shoe ; and a farmer 
 
 passing 
 Said, Old David 's your man ; a clever fellow at 
 
 shoeing 
 Once ; just up by the firs ; they call it Toper-na- 
 
 fuosich. 
 So I saw and spoke with David Mackaye, our 
 
 acquaintance. 
 WTien we came to the journey's end, some five 
 
 miles further. 
 In my unoccupied evening I walked back again 
 
 to the bothie. 
 But on a final crossing, still later in date was 
 
 added : 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 137 
 
 Come as soon as you can ; be sure and do not 
 
 miss me. 
 Who would have guessed I should find my haven 
 
 and end of my travel, 
 Here, by accident too, in the bothie we laughed 
 
 about so ? 
 Who would have guessed that here would be she 
 
 whose glance at Rannoch 
 Turned me in that mysterious way ; yes, angels 
 
 conspiring. 
 Slowly drew me, conducted me, home, to herself; 
 
 the needle 
 Which in the shaken compass flew hither and 
 
 thither, at last, long 
 Quivering, poises to north. I think so. But I am 
 
 cautious ; 
 More, far more than I was in the old silly days 
 
 when I left you ; 
 Though I much fear that my eyes may betray me. 
 
 Still I am heedful ; 
 
138 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Any way try ; and have learnt some self-controul 
 of manner, 
 
 As I conceive, with staying and contemplating at 
 Balloch ; 
 
 Other things I hope, but clearly to be more re- 
 tentive. 
 Not at the bothie now ; at the changehouse in 
 the clachan ; * 
 
 Why I delay my letter is more than I can tell 
 you. 
 There was another scrap, without or date or 
 comment. 
 
 Dotted over with various observations, as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 Only think, I had danced with her twice, and did 
 not remember. 
 
 I was as one that sleeps on the railway; one, who 
 dreaming 
 
 * Public-house in the hamlet. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 139 
 
 Hears through his dream the name of his home 
 
 shouted out ; hears and hears not, — 
 Faint, and louder again, and less loud, dying in 
 
 distance ; 
 Dimlj conscious, with something of inward debate 
 
 and choice, — and 
 Sense of claim and reahty present, relapses 
 Nevertheless, and continues the dream and fancy, 
 
 while forward 
 Swiftly, remorseless, the car presses on, he knows 
 
 not whither. 
 Handsome who handsome is, who handsome 
 
 does is more so ; 
 Pretty is all very pretty, it 's prettier far to be 
 
 useful. 
 No, fair Lady Maria, I say not that ; but I ivill 
 
 say, 
 Stately is service accepted, but lovelier service 
 
 rendered. 
 
140 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Interchange of service the law and condition of 
 
 beauty : 
 Any way beautiful only to be the thing one is 
 
 meant for. 
 I, I am sure, for the sphere of mere ornament am 
 
 not intended : 
 Ko, nor she, I think, thy sister at Toper-na- 
 
 fuosich ; 
 No, she transcends it as far as I perhaps fall be- 
 low it. — 
 This was the letter of Philip, and this had 
 
 brought the Tutor : 
 This is, why tutor and pupil are walking with 
 
 David and Elspie. — 
 "VYhen for the night they part, and these, once 
 
 more together, 
 Went by the lochside along to the changehouse 
 
 near in the clachan, 
 Thus to his pupil anon commenced the grave man 
 
 Adam. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 141 
 
 Yes, she is beautiful, Philip, beautiful even as 
 
 morning : 
 Yes, it is that which I said, the Good and not the 
 
 Attractive ! 
 Happy is he that finds, and finding does not leave 
 
 it! 
 And by his side in silence walked Phihp, and 
 
 presently answered, 
 Happy is he that finds, if he lose not : but happy, 
 
 and more too, 
 Blessed, be he by whose showing the seeker is 
 
 changed to the finder. 
 Ten more days did Adam with Philip abide at 
 
 the changehouse. 
 Ten more nights they met, they walked with father 
 
 and daughter. 
 Ten more nights, and night by night more distant 
 
 away were 
 Philip and she ; every night less heedful, by habit, 
 
 the father. 
 
142 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Happy ten days, most happy ; and, otherwise than 
 
 thought of, 
 Fortunate visit of Adam, companion and friend to 
 
 David. 
 Happy ten days, be ye fruitful of happiness! 
 
 Pass o'er them slowly, 
 Slowly ; like cruise of the prophet be multiplied, 
 
 even to ages ! 
 Pass slowly o'er them, ye days of October ; ye 
 
 soft misty mornings. 
 Long dusky eves ; pass slowly ; and thou great 
 
 Term-Time of Oxford, 
 Awful with lectures and books, and httle-goes and 
 
 great-goes, 
 Till but the sweet bud be perfect, recede and re- 
 tire for the lovers. 
 Yea, for the sweet love of lovers, postpone thyself 
 
 even to doomsday ! 
 Pass o'er them slowly, ye hours ; be with them 
 
 ye Loves and Graces ! 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 143 
 
 Indirect and evasive no longer, a cowardly 
 bather, 
 
 Clinging to bough and to rock, and sidling along 
 by the edges, 
 
 In your faith, ye Muses and Graces, who love 
 the plain present. 
 
 Scorning historic abridgment and artifice anti- 
 poetic. 
 
 In your faith, ye Muses and Loves, ye Loves and 
 Graces, 
 
 I will confront the great peril, and speak with the 
 mouth of the lovers. 
 
 As they spoke by the alders, at evening, the run- 
 nel below them, 
 
 Elspie a dihgent knitter, and Philip her fingers 
 watching. 
 
144 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 VII. 
 
 Vesper adest, juvenes, consurgite; Vesper Olympo 
 Expectata diu vix tandem lumina tollit. 
 
 For she confessed, as they sat in the dusk, and 
 
 he saw not her blushes, 
 Elspie confessed at the sports long ago with her 
 
 father she saw him, 
 "When at the door the old man had told him the 
 
 name of the bothie ; 
 There after that at the dance ; yet again at the 
 
 dance in Rannoch — 
 And she was silent, confused. Confused much 
 
 rather Philip 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 145 
 
 Buried his face in bis hands, his face that with 
 
 blood was bursting. 
 Silent, confused, yet by pity she conquered her 
 
 fear, and continued. 
 Katie is good and not silly ; be comforted. Sir, 
 
 about her ; 
 Katie is good and not silly ; tender, but not like 
 
 many 
 Carrying off, and at once for fear of being seen, in 
 
 the bosom ^ 
 
 Locking-up as in a cupboard the pleasure that any 
 
 man gives them. 
 Keeping it out of sight as a prize they need be 
 
 ashamed of; 
 That is the way I think, Sir, in England more 
 
 than in Scotland ; 
 No, she lives and takes pleasure in all, as in beau- 
 tiful weather. 
 Sorry to lose it, but just as we would be to lose 
 
 fine weather. 
 
 10 
 
146 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And she is strong to return to herself and feel 
 
 undeserted, 
 For she always keeps burning a cheerful fire in- 
 side her. 
 Oh, she is strong, and not silly ; she thinks no 
 
 more about you ; 
 She has had kerchiefs before from gentle, I know, 
 
 as from simple . 
 Yes, she is good and not silly ; yet were you 
 
 wrong, Mr. Philip, 
 Wrong, for yourself perhaps more than for her. 
 
 But Philip rephed not, 
 Raised not his eyes from the hands on his knees. 
 
 And Elspie continued. 
 That was what gave me much pain, when I met 
 
 you that dance at Rannoch, 
 Dancing myself too with you, while Katie danced 
 
 with Donald ; 
 That was what gave me such pain ; I thought it 
 
 all delusion. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 147 
 
 All a mere chance, and accident, — not proper 
 choosing, — 
 
 There were at least five or six — not there, no, 
 that I don't say, 
 
 But in the country about, — you might just as 
 well have been courting. 
 
 That was what gave me much pain, and (you 
 wont remember that, though,) 
 
 Three days after, I met you, beside my uncle's, 
 walking. 
 
 And I was wondering much, and hoped you 
 would n't notice, 
 
 So as I passed I could n't help looking. You 
 did n't know me. 
 
 But I was glad, when I heard next day you 
 were gone to the teacher. 
 And uplifting his face at last, with eyes di- 
 lated, 
 
 Large as great stars in mist, and dim, with dab- 
 bled lashes, 
 
148 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Philip with new tears starting, 
 
 You think I do not remember, 
 Said, — suppose, that I did not observe ! Ah me, 
 
 shall I tell you ? 
 Elspie, it was your look that sent me away from 
 
 E-annoch. 
 It was your glance, that, descending, an instant 
 
 revelation, 
 Showed me, where I was, and whitherward going ; 
 
 recalled me, 
 Sent me, not to my books, but to wrestlings of 
 
 thought in the mountains. 
 Yes, I have carried your glance within me un- 
 
 dimmed, unaltered, 
 As a lost boat the compass some passing ship has 
 
 lent her. 
 Many a weary mile on road, and hill, and moor- 
 land : 
 It has been with me in shieling and bothie of 
 
 wandering drovers, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 149 
 
 It has been with me, more precious, in chariot and 
 
 palace of peeress : 
 And jou suppose, that I do not remember, I had 
 
 not observed it ! 
 0, did the sailor bewildered observe when they 
 
 told him his bearings ? 
 0, did he cast overboard, when they parted, the 
 
 compass they gave him ? 
 And he continued more firmly, although with 
 
 stronger emotion. 
 Elspie, why should I speak it ? you cannot be- 
 lieve it, and should not : 
 Why should I say that I love, which I all but said 
 
 to another ? 
 Yet should I dare, should I say, Elspie, you 
 
 only I love ; you, 
 First and sole in my life that has been and surely 
 
 that shall be ; 
 Could — 0, could. you believe it, Elspie, be- 
 
 Heve it and spurn not ! 
 
150 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Is it — possible, ■ — possible, Elspie ? 
 
 Well, — she answered, 
 Quietly, after her fashion, still knitting, — Well, 
 
 I think of it. 
 Yes, — I don't know, Mr. Philip, — but only it 
 
 feels to me strangely- 
 Like to the high new bridge, they used to build 
 
 at, below there, 
 Over the burn and glen on the road. You wont 
 
 understand me. 
 But I keep saying in my mind — this long time 
 
 slowly with trouble 
 I have been building myself, up, up, and toilfully 
 
 raising, 
 Just like as if the bridge were to do it itself with- 
 out masons, 
 Painfully getting myself upraised one stone on 
 
 another, 
 All one side I mean ; and now I see on the 
 
 other 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 151 
 
 Just such another fabric uprismg, better and 
 stronger, 
 
 Close to me, coming to jom me : and then I some- 
 times fancy, — 
 
 Sometimes I find myself dreaming at nights about 
 arches and bridges, — 
 
 Sometimes I dream of a great invisible hand com- 
 ing down, and 
 
 Dropping the great keystone in the middle : there 
 in my dreaming, 
 
 There I feel the great keystone coming in, and 
 through it 
 
 Feel the other part — all the other stones of the 
 archway. 
 
 Joined into mine with a queer happy sense of 
 completeness, tingling 
 
 All the way up from the other side's basement- 
 stones in the water. 
 
 Through the very grains of mine : — just Hke, 
 when the steel, that you showed us 
 
152 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Moved to the magnet, it seemed a feeling got hold 
 
 of them both. But 
 This is confusion and nonsense. I am mixing all 
 
 things I can think of. 
 And you wont understand me, Mr. Philip. 
 
 But while she was speaking, 
 So it happened, a moment she paused from her 
 
 work, and pondering. 
 Laid her hand on her lap : Philip took it : she did 
 
 not resist : 
 So he retained her fingers, the knitting being 
 
 stopped. But emotion 
 Came all over her more and more, from his hand, 
 
 from her heart, and 
 Most from the sweet idea and image her brain was 
 
 renewing. 
 So he retained her hand, and, his tears down- 
 dropping on it, 
 Trembling a long time kissed it at last. And she 
 
 ended. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 153 
 
 And as she ended, up rose he ; saymg, What have 
 
 I heard? Oh, 
 What have I done, that such words should be said 
 
 to me ? Oh, I see it. 
 See the great keystone coming down from the 
 
 heaven of heavens ! 
 x\nd he fell at her feet, and buried his face in her 
 
 apron. 
 But as under the moon and stars they went to 
 
 the cottage, 
 Elspie sighed and said, Be patient, dear Mr. 
 
 Philip, 
 Do not do anything hasty. It is all so soon, so 
 
 sudden. 
 Do not say anything yet to any one. 
 
 Elspie, he answered, 
 Does not my friend go on Friday ? I then shall 
 
 see nothing of you : 
 Do not I go myself on Monday ? 
 
 But oh, he said, Elspie ; 
 
154 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Do as I bid jou, mj child ; do not go on calling 
 
 me Mr. ; 
 Might I not just as well be calling you Miss 
 
 Elspie ? 
 Call me, this heavenly night, for once, for the first 
 
 time, Philip. 
 Phihp, she said and laughed, and said she could 
 
 not say it ; 
 Philip, she said ; he turned, and kissed the sweet 
 
 lips as they said it. 
 
 But on the morrow Elspie kept out of the way 
 of Philip ; 
 And at the evening seat when he took her hand 
 
 by the alders. 
 Drew it back, saying, almost peevishly, 
 
 No, Mr. Philip, 
 I was quite right, last night ; it is too soon, too 
 sudden. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 155 
 
 What I told jou before was foolish, perhaps, was 
 
 hasty. 
 When I think it over, I am shocked and terrified 
 
 at it. 
 Not that at all I unsay it; that is, I know I 
 
 said it. 
 And when I said it, felt it. But oh, we must wait, 
 
 Mr. Philip ! 
 We must n't pull ourselves at the great keystone 
 
 of the centre ; 
 Some one else up above must hold it, fit it, and 
 
 fix it ; 
 If we try to do it, we shall only damage the arch- 
 way, 
 Damage all our own work that we wrought, our 
 
 painful up-building. 
 When, you remember, you took my hand last 
 
 evening, talking, 
 I was all over a tremble : and as you pressed the 
 
 fingers 
 
156 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 After, and afterwards kissed it, I could not speak. 
 And then, too, 
 
 As we went home, you kissed me for saying your 
 name. It was dreadful. 
 
 I have been kissed before, she added, blushing 
 slightly, 
 
 I have been kissed more than once by Donald my 
 cousin, and others ; 
 
 It is the way of the lads, and I make up my mind 
 not to mind it ; 
 
 But Mr. Philip, last night, and from you, it was 
 diiFerent quite. Sir. 
 
 When I think all that over, I am shocked and ter- 
 rified at it. 
 
 Yes, it is dreadful to me. 
 
 She paused, but quickly continued, 
 
 Smiling almost fiercely, continued, looking up- 
 ward. 
 
 You are too strong, you see, Mr. Philip ! you are 
 like the sea there. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 157 
 
 Which will come, through the straits and all be- 
 tween the mountains, 
 
 Forcing its great strong tide into every nook and 
 inlet. 
 
 Getting far in, up the quiet stream of sweet in- 
 land water. 
 
 Sucking it up, and stopping it, turning it, driving 
 it backward, 
 
 Quite preventing its own quiet running : And 
 then, soon after, 
 
 Back it goes off, leaving weeds on the shore, and 
 wrack and uncleanness : 
 
 And the poor burn in the glen tries again its 
 peaceful running. 
 
 But it is brackish and tainted, and all its banks 
 disordered. 
 
 That was what I dreamt all last night. I was the 
 burnie, 
 
 Trying to get along through the tyrannous brine, 
 and could not ; 
 
158 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 I was confined and squeezed in the coils of the 
 
 great salt tide, that 
 Would mix-in itself with me, and change me ; I 
 
 felt myself changing ; 
 And I struggled, and screamed, I believe, in my 
 
 dream. It was dreadful. 
 You are too strong, Mr. PhiHp ! I am but a poor 
 
 slender burnie, 
 Used to the glens and the rocks, the rowan and 
 
 birch of the woodies, 
 Quite unused to the great salt sea ; quite afraid 
 
 and unwilling. 
 Ere she had spoken two words, had Philip re- 
 leased her fingers : 
 As she went on, he recoiled, fell back, and shook, 
 
 and shivered ; 
 There he stood, looking pale and ghastly ; when 
 
 she had ended, 
 Answering in hollow voice, 
 
 It is true ; oh quite true, Elspie ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 159 
 
 Oh, jou are always right ; oh, what, what have I 
 been doing ! 
 
 I will depart to-morrow. But oh, forget me not 
 wholly, 
 
 WlioUy, Elspie, nor hate me, no, do not hate me, 
 my Elspie. 
 But a revulsion passed through the brain and 
 bosom of Elspie ; 
 
 And she got up from her seat on the rock ; put- 
 ting by her knitting ; 
 
 Went to him, where he stood, and answered. 
 
 No, Mr. Philip, 
 
 No, you are good, Mr. Philip, and gentle ; and I 
 am the foolish ; 
 
 No, Mr. Philip, forgive me. 
 
 She stepped right to him, and boldly 
 
 Took up his hand, and placed it in hers ; he dar- 
 ing no movement ; 
 
 Took up the cold hanging hand, up-forcing the 
 heavy elbow. 
 
160 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 I am afraid, she said, but I will I and kissed the 
 
 fingers. 
 And he fell on his knees and kissed her own past 
 
 counting. 
 
 But a revulsion wrought in the brain and bosom 
 
 of Elspie ; 
 And the passion she just had compared to the 
 
 vehement ocean. 
 Urging in high spring-tide its masterful way 
 
 through the mountains, 
 Forcmg and flooding the silvery stream, as it runs 
 
 from the inland ; 
 That great water withdrawn, receding here and 
 
 passive, 
 Felt she in myriad springs, her sources, far in the 
 
 mountains. 
 Stirring, collecting, rising, upheaving, forth-out- 
 flowing. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICK. 161 
 
 Taking and joining, right welcome, that delicate 
 
 rill in the valley, 
 Filling it, making it strong, and still descending, 
 
 seeking. 
 With a blind forefeeling descending, evermore 
 
 seeking, 
 "With a delicious forefeeling, the great still sea be- 
 fore it ; 
 There deep into it, far, to carry, and lose in its 
 
 bosom, 
 "Waters that still from their sources exhaustless 
 
 are fain to be added. 
 As he was kissing her fingers, and knelt on the 
 
 ground before her. 
 Yielding backward she sank to her seat, and of 
 
 what she was doing 
 Ignorant, bewildered, in sweet multitudinous 
 
 vague emotion, 
 Stooging, knowing not what, put her lips to the 
 
 curl on his forehead : 
 
162 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And Philip, raising himself, gently, for the first 
 time, round her 
 
 Passing his arms, close, close, enfolded her, close 
 to his bosom. 
 As they went home by the moon. Forgive me, 
 Philip, she whispered ; 
 
 I have so many things to think of, all of a sud- 
 den ; 
 
 I who had never once thought a thing, — in my 
 ignorant Highlands. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 163 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Jam veniet virgo, jam dicetur hymenaeus, 
 
 Hymen, O hymenaee ! Hymen, ades, O liymenaee ! 
 
 But a revulsion again came over the spirit of 
 
 Elspie, 
 When she thought of his wealth, his birth and 
 
 education : 
 Wealth indeed but small, though to her a difference 
 
 truly; 
 Father nor mother had Philip, a thousand pounds 
 
 his portion, 
 Somewhat impaired in a world where nothing is 
 
 had for nothing ; 
 
164 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Fortune indeed but small, and prospects plain and 
 simple. 
 But the many things that he knew, and the ease 
 of a practised 
 
 Intellect's motion, and all those indefinable 
 graces 
 
 (Were they not hers, too, Philip?) to speech and 
 manner, and movement, 
 
 Lent by the knowledge of self, and wisely instruct- 
 ed feeling, — 
 
 AVhen she thought* of all these, and these contem- 
 plated daily, 
 
 Daily appreciating more, and more exactly ap- 
 praising, — 
 
 With these thoughts, and the terror withal of a 
 thing she could not 
 
 Estimate, and of a step (such a step !) in the 
 dark to be taken. 
 
 Terror nameless and ill understood of deserting 
 her station, — 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 165 
 
 Daily heavier, heavier upon her pressed the sor- 
 row, 
 Daily distincter, distincter within her arose the 
 conviction, 
 
 He was too high, too perfect, and she so unfit, so 
 unworthy, 
 
 (Ah me ! Philip, that ever a word such as that 
 should be written I) 
 
 It would not do for him ; nor for her ; she also 
 was something. 
 
 Not much indeed and diiferent, yet not to be 
 lightly extinguished. 
 
 Should Jie — he have a wife beneath him? her- 
 self be 
 
 An inferior there where only equality can 
 be? 
 
 It would do neither for him, nor for her. 
 
 Alas for Philip ! 
 
 Many were tears and great was perplexity. Nor 
 had availed then 
 
166 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 All his prayer and all his device. But much was 
 spoken 
 
 Now, between Adam and Elspie ; companions 
 were they hourly : 
 
 Much by Elspie to Adam, enquiring, anxiously 
 seeking. 
 
 From his experience seeking impartial accurate 
 statement 
 
 What it was to do this or do that, go hither or 
 thither, 
 
 How in the after life would seem what now seem- 
 ing certain 
 
 Might so soon be reversed ; in her quest and ob- 
 scure exploring 
 
 StiU from that quiet orb soliciting light to her 
 footsteps ; 
 
 Much by Elspie to Adam, enquiring, eagerly seek- 
 ing : 
 
 ]\Iuch by Adam to Elspie, informing, reassur- 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 167 
 
 Much that was sweet to Elspie bj Adam, heed- 
 fully speaking, 
 
 Quietly, indirectly, in general terms, of PhiHp, 
 
 Gravely, but indirectly, not as incognizant wholly. 
 
 But as suspending until she could seek it, direct 
 intimation ; 
 
 Much that was sweet in her heart of what he 
 was and would be. 
 
 Much that was strength to her mind, confirming 
 beliefs and insights 
 
 Pure and unfaltering, but young and mute and 
 timid for action ; 
 
 Much of relations of rich and poor, and true ed- 
 ucation. 
 It was on Saturday eve, in the gorgeous bright 
 October, 
 
 Then when brackens are changed, and heather 
 
 blooms are faded, 
 And amid russet of heather and fern green trees 
 are bonnie ; 
 
168 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Alders are green, and oaks ; the rowan scarlet 
 
 and yellow ; 
 One great glory of broad gold pieces appears the 
 
 aspen, 
 And the jewels of gold that were hung in the 
 
 hair of the birch- tree, 
 Pendulous, here and there, her coronet, necklace, 
 
 and earrings. 
 Cover her now, o'er and o'er ; she is weary and 
 
 scatters them from her. 
 There, upon Saturday eve, in the gorgeous bright 
 
 October, 
 Under the alders knitting, gave Elspie her troth 
 
 to Phihp. 
 For as they talked, anon she said — 
 
 It is well, Mr. PhHip. 
 Yes, it is well 4 I have spoken, and learnt a deal 
 
 with the teacher. 
 At the last I told him all, I could not help 
 
 it; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 169 
 
 And it came easier with him than could have 
 
 been with my father ; 
 And he calmly approved, as one that had fully 
 
 considered. 
 Yes, it is well, I have hoped, though quite too 
 
 great and sudden, 
 I am so fearful, I think it ought not to be for 
 
 years yet. 
 I am afraid ; but believe in you ; and I trust to 
 
 the teacher : 
 You have done all things gravely and temperate, 
 
 not as in passion ; 
 And the teacher is prudent, and surely can tell 
 
 what is likely. 
 What my father will say, I know not : we will 
 
 obey him : 
 But for myself, I could dare to believe all well, 
 
 and venture. 
 Mr. Philip, may it never hereafter seem to be 
 
 different ! 
 
170 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And she hid her face — 
 
 0, where, but in Philip's bosom ! 
 After some silence, some tears too perchance, 
 
 Philip laughed and said to her, 
 So, mj own Elspie, at last you are clear that 
 
 I 'm bad enough for you. 
 Ah, but your father wont make one half the 
 
 question about it 
 You have — he '11 think me, I know, nor better 
 
 nor worse than Donald, 
 Neither better nor worse for my gentlemanship 
 
 and book-work, 
 Worse, I fear, as he knows me an idle and vaga- 
 bond fellow, 
 Though he allows, but he '11 think it was all for 
 
 your sake, Elspie, 
 Though he allows I did some good at the end of 
 
 the shearing. 
 But I had thought in Scotland you did n't care for 
 
 this folly. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 171 
 
 How I wish, he said, you had lived all your days 
 in the Highlands, 
 
 This is what comes of the year you spent in our 
 foohsh England. 
 
 You do not all of you feel these fancies. 
 
 No, she answered, 
 
 And in her spirit the freedom and ancient joy 
 was reviving. 
 
 No, she said, and uplifted herself, and looked for 
 her knitting. 
 
 No, nor do J, dear Philip, I don't myself feel al- 
 ways 
 
 As I have felt, more sorrow for me, these four 
 days lately. 
 
 Like the Peruvian Indians I read about last win- 
 ter. 
 
 Out in America there, in somebody's life of Pi- 
 zarro ; 
 
 Who were as good perhaps as the Spaniards ; only 
 weaker ; 
 
172 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And that the one big tree might spread its root 
 
 and branches, 
 All the lesser about it must even be felled and 
 
 perish. 
 No, I feel much more as if I, as weU as you, 
 
 were. 
 Somewhere, a leaf on the one great tree, that up 
 
 from old time 
 Growing, contains in itself the whole of the virtue 
 
 and life of 
 Bjgone days, drawing now to itself all kindreds 
 
 and nations, 
 And must have for itself the whole world for its 
 
 root and branches. 
 No, I belong to the tree, I shall not decay in the 
 
 shadow ; 
 Yes, I feel the life-juices of all the world and the 
 
 ages 
 Coming to me as to you, more slowly no doubt 
 
 and poorer, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 173 
 
 You are more near, but then you ^Yill help to con- 
 
 \ej them to me. 
 Ko, don't smile, Philip, now, so scornfully ! — 
 
 While you look so 
 Scornful and strong, I feel as if I were standing 
 
 and trembling, 
 Fancying the burn in the dark a wide and rushing 
 
 river. 
 And I feel coming into me from you, or perhaps 
 
 from elsewhere, 
 Strong contemptuous resolve ; I forget, and I 
 
 bound as across it. 
 But after all, you know, it may be a dangerous 
 
 river. 
 Oh, if it were so, Elspie, he said, I can carry 
 
 you over. 
 Nay, she replied, you would tire of having me 
 
 for a burthen. 
 sweet burthen, he said, and are you not light 
 
 as a feather ? 
 
174 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 But it is deep, very likely, she said, over head and 
 
 ears too. 
 let us try, he answered, the waters themselves 
 
 will support us, 
 Yea, very ripples and waves will form to a boat 
 
 underneath us ; 
 There is a boat, he said, and a name is written 
 
 upon it, 
 Love, he said, and kissed her. — 
 
 But I will read your books, though, 
 Said she, you '11 leave me some, Philip. 
 
 Not I, replied he, a volume. 
 This is the way with you all, I perceive, high and 
 
 low together. 
 Women must read, — as if they did n't know all 
 
 beforehand : 
 Weary of plying the pump we turn to the run- 
 ning water, 
 And the running spring will needs have a pump 
 
 built on it. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 175 
 
 Weary and sick of our books we come to repose 
 
 in your eye-sigkt, 
 As to the woodland and water, the freshness and 
 
 beauty of Nature, 
 Lo, you will talk, forsooth, of the things we are 
 
 sick to death of. 
 What, she said, and if I have let you become 
 
 my sweetheart, 
 I am to read no books ! but you may go your 
 
 ways then. 
 And I will read, she said, with my father at home 
 
 as I used to. 
 If you must have it, he said, I myself will read 
 
 them to you. 
 Well, she said, but no, I will read to myself, 
 
 when I choose it ; 
 What, you suppose we never read anything here 
 
 in our Highlands, 
 Bella and I with the father in all our winter even- 
 
176 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 But we must go, Mr. Philip — 
 
 I shall not go at all, said 
 
 He, if jou call me Mr. Thank heaven ! that 's 
 well over. 
 No, but it 's not, she said, it is not over, nor 
 will be. 
 
 Was it not then, she asked, the name I called jou 
 first by ? 
 
 No, Mr. Philip, no — you have kissed me enough 
 for two nights, 
 
 No — come, Philip, come, or I '11 go myself with- 
 out you. 
 You never call me Philip, he answered, until I 
 
 kiss you. 
 As they went home by the moon that waning 
 now rose later. 
 
 Stepping through mossy stones by the runnel un- 
 der the alders, 
 
 Loitering unconsciously, Pliilip, she said, I will 
 not be a lady, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 177 
 
 We will do work together, you do not wish me a 
 
 lady, 
 It is a weakness perhaps and a foohshness ; still 
 
 it is so, 
 I could not bear to be served and waited upon by- 
 footmen, 
 No, not even by women — 
 
 And, God forbid, he answered, 
 God forbid you should ever be ought but yourself, 
 
 my Elspie, 
 As for service, I love it not, I ; your weakness is 
 
 mine too, 
 I am sure Adam told you as much as that about 
 
 me. 
 I am sure, she said, he called you wild and 
 
 flighty. 
 That was true, he said, till my wings were 
 
 clipped by Elspie. 
 But, my Elspie, he said, you Avould like to see, I 
 
 fancy, 
 
 12 
 
178 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Something of the world, of men and women. 
 
 You will not refuse me, 
 You will one day come with me and see my uncle 
 
 and cousins, 
 Sister, and brother, and brother's wife. You 
 
 should go, if you liked it, 
 Just as you are ; just what you are, at any rate, 
 
 my Elspie. 
 Yes, we will go, and give the old solemn gentility 
 
 stage-play 
 One little look, to leave it with all the more satis- 
 faction. 
 That may be, my Philip, she said, you are good 
 
 to think of it. 
 But we are letting our fancies run-on indeed ; 
 
 after all 
 It may all come, you know, Mr. Philip, to noth. 
 
 ing whatever. 
 There is so much that needs to be done, so much 
 
 that may happen. 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 179 
 
 All that needs to be done, said he, shall be done, 
 and quickly. 
 
 And on the morrow he took good heart and 
 
 spoke with Davdd ; 
 Not unwarned the father, nor had been unper- 
 
 ceiving ; 
 Fearful much, but in all from the first reassured 
 
 by Adam. 
 In the first few days after Philip came to the 
 
 bothie 
 They had become hearty friends, full of trust the 
 
 one in the other : 
 And in these last three he had talked with him 
 
 much, and tried him. 
 And he remembered, how at the first he had liked 
 
 the lad ; and, 
 Then too, the old man's eye was much more for 
 
 inner than outer. 
 
180 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 And the natural tune of his heart without mis- 
 giving 
 Went to the noble words of that grand song of the 
 
 Lowlands, 
 Manh is the guinea stamj), hut the man 's a man 
 
 for a' that. 
 Still he was doubtful, would hear nothing of it 
 
 now, but insisted 
 Philip should go to his books: if he chose, he 
 
 might write ; if after 
 Chose to return, might come ; he truly beheved 
 
 him honest. 
 But a year must elapse, and many things might 
 
 happen. 
 Yet at the end he burst into tears, called Elspie, 
 
 and blessed them ; 
 Elspie, my bairn, he said, I thought not, when at 
 
 the doorway 
 Standing with you, and telling the young man to 
 
 come and see us. 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 181 
 
 I did not think he woidd one day be asking me 
 
 here to surrender 
 What is to me more than wealth in mj Bothie of 
 
 Toper-na-fuosich. 
 
182 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 IX. 
 
 Arva, beata Petamus arva ! 
 
 So on the morrow's morrow, with Term-time dread 
 returning, 
 
 Philip returned to his books, and read, and re- 
 mained at Oxford, 
 
 All the Christmas and Easter remained and read 
 at Oxford. 
 Great was wonder in College when Postman 
 showed to Butler 
 
 Letters addressed to David Mackaje, at Toper- 
 na-fuosich. 
 
 Letter on letter, at least one a week, one every 
 Sunday : 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 183 
 
 Great at that Highland post was wonder too 
 
 and conjecture, 
 When the postman showed letters to wife, and 
 
 wife to the lasses. 
 And the lasses declared they could n't be really 
 
 to David ; 
 Yes, thej could see inside a paper with E. 
 
 upon it. 
 Great was surmise in College at breakfast, wine, 
 
 and supper. 
 Keen the conjecture and joke ; but Adam kept 
 
 the secret, 
 Adam the secret kept, and Philip read like 
 
 furj. 
 This is a letter written by Philip at Christmas 
 
 to Adam. 
 What I said at Balloch has truth in it ; only dis- 
 torted. 
 Plants are some for fruit, and some for flowering 
 
 only ; 
 
184: THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Let there be deer in parks, as well as kine in 
 
 paddocks, 
 Grecian buildings upon the earth, as well as 
 
 Gothic. 
 There may be men, perhaps, whose vocation it is 
 
 to be idle. 
 Idle, sumptuous even, luxurious, if it must 
 
 be: 
 Only let each man seek to be that for which 
 
 Nature meant him. 
 Independent surely of pleasure, if not regard- 
 less. 
 Independent also of station, if not regardless : 
 Irrespective alike of station, as of enjoyment. 
 Do his duty in that state of life to Avhich God, not 
 
 man, shall call him. 
 If you were meant to plough, Lord Marquis, out 
 
 with you, and do it. 
 If you were meant to be idle, beggar, behold, I 
 
 will feed thee ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 185 
 
 Take mj purse ; you have far better right to it, 
 
 friend, than the Marquis. 
 If jou were born for a groom, and jou seem, by 
 
 your dress, to beheve so. 
 Do it like a man, Sir George, for pay, in a livery 
 
 stable ; 
 Yes, you may so release that slip of a boy at the 
 
 corner. 
 Fingering books at the window, misdoubting the 
 
 eighth commandment. 
 What a mere Dean, with those wits, that debtor- 
 
 and-creditor head-piece ! 
 Go, my detective D. D., take the place of Burns 
 
 the ganger. 
 Ah, fair Lady Maria, God meant you to live, and 
 
 be lovely, 
 Be so then, and I bless you. But ye, ye spurious 
 
 ware, who 
 Might be plain women, and can be by no possibil- 
 ity better ! 
 
186 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 — Ye unhappy statuettes, ye miserable trin- 
 kets, 
 
 Poor alabaster chimney-piece ornaments under 
 glass cases, 
 
 Come, in God's name, come down! the very 
 French clock by you 
 
 Puts you to shame with ticking ; the fire-irons de- 
 ride you. 
 
 Break your glasses, ye can ! come down, ye are 
 not really plaster, 
 
 Come, in God's name, come down ! do anything, 
 be but something ! 
 
 You, young girl, who have had such advantages, 
 learnt so quickly, 
 
 Can you not teach ? yes, and she likes Sunday 
 school extremely. 
 
 Only it 's soon in the morning. Away ! if to 
 teach be your calling. 
 
 It is no play, but a business : off ! go teach and 
 be paid for it. 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 187 
 
 Surely, that fussy old dowager yonder was meant 
 
 for the counter ; 
 Oh, she is notable very, and keeps her servants in 
 
 order 
 Past admiration. Indeed, and keeps to employ 
 
 her talent 
 How many, pray ? to what use ? Away, the 
 
 hotel 's her vocation. 
 Lady Sophia 's so good to the sick, so firm and 
 
 so gentle. 
 Is there a nobler sphere than of hospital nurse 
 
 and matron ? 
 Hast thou for cooking a turn, little Lady Clarissa ? 
 
 in with them. 
 In with your fingers I their beauty it spoils, but 
 
 your own it enhances ; 
 For it is beautiful only to do the thing we are 
 
 meant for. 
 But they will marry, have husbands, and children, 
 
 and guests, and households — 
 
188 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Are there then so many trades for a man, for 
 
 women one only, 
 First to look out for a husband and then to pre- 
 side at his table ? 
 Learning to dance, then dancing, then breeding, 
 
 and entertaining ? 
 Breeding and rearing of children at any rate the 
 
 poor do 
 Easier, say the doctors, and better, with all their 
 
 slaving. 
 How many, too, disappointed, not being this, can 
 
 be nothing ! 
 How many more are spoilt for wives by the means 
 
 to become so. 
 Spoilt for wives and mothers, and everything else 
 
 moreover ! 
 This was the answer that came from the Tutor, 
 
 the grave man, Adam. 
 Have you ever, Philip, my boy, looked at it in 
 
 this way ? 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 189 
 
 When the armies are set in array, and the battle 
 beginning, 
 
 Is it well that the soldier whose post is far to the 
 leftward 
 
 Saj, I will go to the right, it is there I shall do 
 best service ? 
 
 There is a great Field-Marshal, mj friend, who 
 arrays our battalions ; 
 
 Let us to Pro\ddence trust, and abide and work in 
 our stations. 
 This was the final retort from the eager, impet- 
 uous Philip. 
 
 I am sorry to say your Providence puzzles me 
 sadly ; 
 
 Children of circumstance are we to be ? you an- 
 swer, On no wise ! 
 
 Where does Circumstance end, and Providence 
 where begins it ? 
 
 In the revolving sphere which is upper, which is 
 under ? 
 
190 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 What are we to resist, and what are we to be 
 
 friends with ? 
 If there is battle, 't is battle by night : I stand in 
 
 the darkness. 
 Here in the melee of men, Ionian and Dorian on 
 
 both sides, 
 Signal and password known ; which is friend and 
 
 which is foeman ? 
 Is it a friend ? I doubt, though he speak with the 
 
 voice of a brother. 
 Still you are right, I suppose ; you always are, 
 
 and will be. 
 Though I mistrust the Field-Marshal, I bow to 
 
 the duty of order. 
 Let us all get on as we can, and do what we 're 
 
 meant for, 
 Or, as is said in your favorite weary old Ethics, 
 
 our ergon. 
 Yet is my feehng rather to ask. Where is the 
 
 battle ? 
 
TOPER-NA-Fi:OSICH. 191 
 
 Yes, I could find in mj heart to cry, in spite of 
 
 my Elspie, 
 that the armies indeed were arrayed, joy of 
 
 the onset, 
 Sound, thou Trumpet of God, come forth, Great 
 
 Cause, to array us, 
 King and leader appear, thy soldiers sorrowing 
 
 seek thee. 
 Would that the armies indeed were arrayed, 
 
 where is the battle ! 
 Neither battle I see, nor arraying, nor King in 
 
 Israel, 
 Only infinite jumble and mess and disloca- 
 tion. 
 Backed by a solemn appeal, ' For God's sake do 
 
 not stir, there ! ' 
 Yet you are right, I suppose ; if you don't attack 
 
 my conclusion, 
 Let us get on as we can, and hunt for and do the 
 
192 
 
 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 That is n't likely to be by sitting still, eating and 
 drinking. 
 
 Yes, you are right, I dare say, you always were 
 and will be, 
 
 And in default of a fight I will put up with peace 
 and Elspie. 
 These are fragments again without date ad- 
 dressed to Adam. 
 As at return of tide the total w^eight of 
 ocean, 
 
 Drawn by moon and sun from Labrador and 
 Greenland, 
 
 Sets-in amain, in the open space betwixt Mull and 
 Scarfa, 
 
 Heaving, swelling, spreading, the might of the 
 mighty Atlantic ; 
 
 There into cranny and sht of the rocky, cavern- 
 ous bottom 
 
 Settles down, and with dimples huge the smooth 
 searsurface 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 193 
 
 iEddies, coils, and whirls ; hj dangerous Cor- 
 rjvreckan : 
 
 So in my soul of souls, through its cells and secret 
 recesses, 
 
 Comes back, swelling and spreading, the old dem- 
 ocratic fervor. 
 But as the light of day enters some populous 
 city. 
 
 Shaming away, ere it come, by the chilly day- 
 streak signal, 
 
 High and low, the misusers of night, shaming out 
 the gas lamps, — 
 
 All the great empty streets are flooded with 
 broadening clearness, 
 
 "Which, withal, by inscrutable simultaneous ac- 
 cess 
 
 Permeates far and pierces, to very cellars ly- 
 ing in 
 
 Narrow high back-lane, and court and alley of 
 alleys : 
 
 13 
 
194 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 He that goes forth to his walk, while speeding to 
 the suburb, 
 
 Sees sights only peaceful and pure ; as, laborers 
 setthng 
 
 Slowly to work, in their limbs the lingering sweet- 
 ness of slumber ; 
 
 Humble market^carts, coming-in, bringing-in, not 
 only 
 
 Flower, fruit, farm-store, but sounds and sights of 
 the country 
 
 Dwelling yet on the sense of the dreamy drivers ; 
 soon after 
 
 Half-awake servant-maids unfastening drowsy shut- 
 ters 
 
 Up at the windows, or down, letting-in the air by 
 the doorway ; 
 
 School-boys, school-girls soon, with slate, portfolio, 
 satchel, 
 
 Hampered as they haste, those running, these 
 others maidenly tripping ; 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 195 
 
 Early clerk anon turning out to stroll, or it 
 
 may be 
 Meet his sweetheart — waiting behind the garden 
 
 gate there ; 
 Merchant on his grass-plat haply, bareheaded ; 
 
 and now by this time 
 Little child bringing breakfast to " father " that 
 
 sits on the timber 
 There by the scaffolding ; see, she waits for the 
 
 can beside him ; 
 Meantime above purer air untarnished of new-lit 
 
 fires : 
 So that the whole great wicked artificial civihzed 
 
 fabric, — 
 All its unfinished houses, lots for sale, and railway 
 
 outworks, — 
 Seems reaccepted, resumed to Primal Nature and 
 
 Beauty : — 
 — Such — in me, and to me, and on me the love 
 
 of Elspie ! 
 
196 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Philip returned to his books, but returned to 
 
 his Highlands after ; 
 Got a first 't is said ; a winsome bride, 't is cer- 
 tain. 
 There while courtship was ending, nor yet the 
 
 wedding appointed. 
 Under her father he learnt to handle the hoe and 
 
 the hatchet : 
 Thither that summer succeeding came Adam and 
 
 Arthur to see him 
 Down by the lochs from the distant Glenmorison : 
 
 Adam the tutor, 
 Arthur, and Hope ; and the Piper anon who was 
 
 there for a visit. 
 He had been into the schools ; plucked almost ; 
 
 all but a gone-coon ; 
 So he declared ; never once had brushed up his 
 
 hairy iVldrich ; 
 Into the great might-have-been upsoaring subHme 
 
 and ideal 
 
TOPEK-NA-FUOSICH. 197 
 
 Gave to historical questions a free poetical treat- 
 ment ; 
 
 Leaving vocabular ghosts undisturbed in their lexi- 
 con-limbo, 
 
 Took Aristophanes up at a shot ; and the whole 
 three last weeks 
 
 Went in his life and the sunshine rejoicing to Nune- 
 ham and Godstowe : 
 
 What were the claims of Degree to those of life 
 and the sunshine ? 
 
 There did the four find Philip, the poet, the 
 speaker, the chartist, 
 
 Delving at Highland soil, and railing at Highland 
 landlords, 
 
 Railing, but more, as it seemed, for the fun of the 
 Piper's fury. 
 
 There saw they David and Elspie Mackaje, and 
 the Piper was almost, 
 
 Almost deeply in love with Bella the sister of 
 Elspie ; 
 
198 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 But the good Adam was heedful; they did not go 
 
 too often. 
 There in the bright October, the gorgeous bright 
 
 October, 
 Wlien the brackens are changed, and heather 
 
 blooms are faded. 
 And amid russet of heather and fern green trees 
 
 are bonnie, 
 There, when shearing had ended, and barley- 
 
 stooks were garnered, 
 David gave Philip to wife his daughter, his dar- 
 ling Elspie ; 
 Elspie the quiet, the brave, was wedded to Philip 
 
 the poet. 
 So won Philip his bride. They are married 
 
 and gone — But oh. Thou 
 Mighty one. Muse of great Epos, and Idyll the 
 
 playful and tender. 
 Be it recounted in song, ere we part, and thou fly 
 
 to thy Pindus, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 199 
 
 (Pindus is it, Muse, or Aetna, or even Ben- 
 Nevis?) 
 
 Be it recounted in song, Muse of the Epos and 
 Idyll, 
 
 Who gave what at the wedding, the gifts and fair 
 gratulations. 
 Adam, the grave careful Adam, a medicine-chest 
 and tool-box, 
 
 Hope a saddle, and Arthur a plough, and a rifle 
 the Piper, 
 
 Airlie a necklace for Elspie, and Hobbes a Family 
 Bible, 
 
 Airlie a necklace, and Hobbes a Bible and iron 
 bedstead. 
 What was the letter, Muse, sent withal by 
 the corpulent hero ? 
 
 This is the letter of Hobbes the kilted and corpu- 
 lent hero. 
 So the last speech and confession is made, 
 mj eloquent speaker ! 
 
200 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 So the good time is coming* or come is it ? my 
 chartist ! 
 
 So the Cathedral is finished at last, my Pugin 
 of Women ; 
 
 Finished, and now, is it true ? to be taken out 
 whole to New Zealand ! 
 
 Well, go forth to thy field, to thy barley, with 
 Ruth, Boaz, 
 
 Ruth, who for thee hath deserted her people, her 
 gods, her mountains, 
 
 Quitted her INIoab-Lochaber for thee, thou Naomi- 
 Boaz. 
 
 Go, as in Ephrath of old, in the gate of Bethle- 
 hem said they, 
 
 Go, be the wife in thy house both Rachel and 
 Leah unto thee ! 
 
 Be thy wedding of silver, albeit of iron thy bed- 
 stead ! 
 
 * "The Good Time Coming." — Chartist Song. 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 201 
 
 Yea, to the full golden fifty be lengthened ! while 
 
 fair memoranda 
 Duly fill-up the fly-leaves duly left in the Family 
 
 Bible. 
 Live, be happy, and look too to keep a whole skin 
 
 on thy sirloin. 
 Live, and when Hobbes is forgotten, mayst thou, 
 
 an unroasted Grandsire, 
 See thy children's children, and Democracy upon 
 
 New Zealand ! 
 This was the letter of Hobbes, and this the 
 
 Postscript after. 
 Wit in the letter will prate, but wisdom speaks in 
 
 a postscript ; 
 Listen to wisdom — Which things — you perhaps 
 
 did n't know, my dear fellow, 
 I have reflected ; Which things are an allegory^ 
 
 Philip. 
 For this Rachel-and-Leah is marriage ; which, I 
 
 have seen it. 
 
202 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 Lo, and have known it, is always, and must be, 
 
 bigamy only, 
 Even in noblest kind a duality, compound and 
 
 complex, 
 One part heavenly-ideal, the other vulgar and 
 
 earthy : 
 For this Rachel-and-Leah is marriage, and Lab an 
 
 their father 
 Circumstance, chance, the world, our uncle and 
 
 hard taskmaster. 
 Rachel we found as we fled from the daughters of 
 
 Heth by the desert ; 
 Rachel we met at the well ; we came, we saw, we 
 
 kissed her ; 
 Rachel we serve-for, long years, — that seem a 
 
 few days only. 
 E'en for the love we have to her, — and win her 
 
 at last of Laban. 
 Is it not Rachel we take in our joy from the hand 
 
 of her father ? 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 203 
 
 Is it not Rachel we lead in the mystical veil from 
 the altar ? 
 
 Rachel we clream-of at night : in the morning, be- 
 hold, it is Leah. 
 
 " Nay, it is custom," saith Laban, and Leah in- 
 deed is the elder. 
 
 Happy and wise who consents to redouble his ser- 
 vice to Laban, 
 
 So, fulfilling her week, he may add to the elder 
 the younger, 
 
 Not repudiates Leah, but wins him the Rachel 
 unto her ! 
 
 Neither hate thou thy Leah, my Phihp, she also 
 is w^orthy ; 
 
 So — many days shall thy Rachel have joy, and 
 survive her sister : 
 
 Yea and her children — Which things are an 
 allegory^ Philip, 
 
 Aye, and by Origen's head with a vengeance too, 
 a long one ! 
 
204 THE BOTHIE OF 
 
 This was a note from the Tutor, the grave man 
 
 nicknamed Adam. 
 I shall see jou of course, my Philip, before jour 
 
 departure ; 
 Joy be with you, my boy, with you and your 
 
 beautiful Elspie. 
 Happy is he that found, and finding was not 
 
 heedless ; 
 Happy is he that found, and happy the friend that 
 
 was with him. 
 So won Philip his bride ; — 
 They are married, and gone to New Zealand. 
 Five hundred pounds in pocket, with books, and 
 
 two or three pictures. 
 Tool-box, plough, and the rest, they rounded the 
 
 sphere to New Zealand. 
 There he hewed, and dug ; subdued the earth and 
 
 his spirit ; 
 There he built him a home ; there Elspie bare him 
 
 his children, 
 
TOPER-NA-FUOSICH. 205 
 
 David and Bella ; perhaps ere this too an Elspie 
 
 or Adam ; 
 There hath he farmstead and land, and fields of 
 
 corn and flax fields ; 
 And the Antipodes too have a Bothie of Toper-na- 
 
 fuosich. 
 
 THK E>"D. 
 
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