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BY 
 
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 5 Inl IE IT Inl g IK 
 
 VOL.1. 
 
TALES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 THE BROWNIE OF BODSBECK, WINTER EVENING TALES, 
 SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR, &c., &c. 
 
 AND SEVERAL PIECES NOT BEFORE PRINTED, 
 
 WflTTK) OL L yK^TD^ I IK! 
 
 CHIEFLY FllOM REAL SCENES. 
 
 BY D. O. HILL, ESQ., S. A. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 BLACKIE & SON, QUEEN STREET, GLASGOW ; 
 
 SOUTH COLLEGE STREET, EDINBURGH; 
 AND WARWICK SQUARE, LONDON. 
 
 MDCCCXXXVII. 
 
 I 
 
GLASGOW: 
 PHINTEU BY GBOUGE BUOOKMAN. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 THE present selection of TALES AND SKETCHES BY 
 THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD occupied the attention of 
 the author for several years before his lamented de- 
 cease. The publication, therefore, though posthu- 
 mous, may be considered as possessing almost all the 
 value of having received the final corrections of his 
 pen. In selecting the pieces, and preparing them for 
 the press, the author consulted the judgment of several 
 of his literary friends. In particular, it may be men- 
 tioned, that a large portion of taem are printed from 
 copy which had been read by SIR WALTER SCOTT, 
 and which had received many of his corrections and 
 emendations. The result of this care will be found, 
 it is hoped, in the present publication displaying all the 
 characteristic beauties of the author, with fewer of 
 those blemishes of thought or expression which were 
 sometimes supposed to accompany the operations of 
 his vigorous fancy. 
 
 To add to the value of the work, Mr Hogg wrote 
 many original Tales and Sketches expressly for it; so 
 that it comes recommended to the public as embrac- 
 ing not only a select collection, from various sources, 
 of the best prose Tales and Sketches of the Ettrick 
 Shepherd, but as containing also a variety of pieces, 
 hitherto unpublished the latest, indeed, which ema- 
 nated from the pen of the author. 
 
 Queen Street, 833 
 
 GLASGOW, Nov. 1836. v 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 Pase 
 
 The Brownie of Bodsbeck . . . . . 1 
 
 The Wool-Gatherer . . . . .176 
 
 The Surpassing Adventures of Allan Gordon . . .241 
 
 A Tale of Pentland , .. ,< . . . 317 
 
 EwanM'Gabhar . 333 
 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO THE 
 
 BROWNIE OF BODSBECK, 
 
 THERE is a range of high mountains that border on An- 
 nandale, Ettrick Forest, and Tweeddale, that are by many 
 degrees the wildest, the most rugged, and inaccessible in 
 the south of Scotland. They ah^und with precipitous 
 rocks, caverns, and water-falls, beside interminable mo- 
 rasses, full of deep ruts, which are nevertheless often 
 green and dry in the bottom, with perhaps a small rill 
 tinkling along each of them. No superior hiding-place 
 can be conceived. With means of subsistence, thousands 
 of men might remain there in safe hiding, with the con- 
 nivance of one single shepherd. To that desolate and 
 unfrequented region did the shattered remains of the 
 routed fugitives from the field of Bothwell Bridge, as well 
 as the broken and persecuted whigs from all the western 
 districts, ultimately flee as to their last refuge. 
 
 They, being however all Westland men, were conse- 
 quently utterly unacquainted with the inhabitants of the 
 country in which they had taken shelter. They neither 
 knew their religious principles, nor the opinions which 
 they held regarding the measures of government, and 
 therefore durst not trust them with the secret of their 
 retreat. They had watches set all around ; certain calls of 
 
2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 different birds for signals, and conformable to these they 
 skulked away from one hiding-place to another, alike at 
 the approach of the armed troop, the solitary shepherd, 
 or the careless fowler. 
 
 It was a season of calamity and awful interest. 
 From the midst of that inhospitable wilderness, from those 
 dark morasses, and unfrequented caverns, the prayers 
 of the persecuted race nightly rose to the throne of 
 the Almighty ; prayers, as all testified who heard them, 
 fraught with the most simple pathos, as well as bold 
 and vehement sublimity. In the solemn gloom of the 
 evening, after the last rays of day had disappeared, 
 and again in the morning before the ruddy streaks 
 began to paint the east ; yea, often at the deepest 
 hours of midnight, songs of praise were sung to that 
 BEING under whose fatherly chastisement they were 
 patiently suffering. These hymns, always chanted with 
 ardour and wild melody, and borne afar on the light 
 breezes of the twilight, were often heard at a great dis- 
 tance, causing no little consternation to the remote dwel- 
 lers of that mountain region. The heart of the shep- 
 herd grew chill, and his hairs stood on end, as he hasted 
 home to alarm the cottage circle with a tale of horror. 
 For, besides this solemn and unearthly music, he perceiv- 
 ed lights moving about by night in wilds and in caverns 
 where human thing had never resided, and where foot 
 of man had never trod, and he deemed that legions of 
 spiritual creatures had once more taken possession of 
 his solitary dells. 
 
 At length the hiders became so numerous that it 
 was impracticable to keep themselves altogether con- 
 cealed from the people of the country. Chance brought 
 them in contact with the men, while sickness and 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 utter necessity often drove the sufferers to make their 
 appeal to the tender heart of women. Never were 
 those appeals refused, although the favours granted were 
 bestowed at the hazard of life ; and in no one instance 
 on record was the confidence of the sufferer betrayed ; 
 even though the circumstances were partially known to 
 two or three of the same family, they were often puzzled 
 to the last to conceal them from one another. Of such 
 a dilemma the following Tale is a pleasant instance. The 
 general part is taken from Wodrow, and the local part 
 from the relation of my own father, who had the best 
 possible traditionary account of the incidents. On the 
 publication of the first edition, I was grievously blamed, 
 by a certain party, for having drawn an unfair character 
 of Clavers. I can only say that it is the character I had 
 heard drawn of him all my life, and the character of him 
 which was impressed upon my mind since my earliest 
 remembrance, which all his eulogists can never erase. 
 Moreover, I have not contrived one incident in order to 
 make his character blacker than it was ; I may have taken 
 a few of the worst, and condensed them, and that is all, 
 and perfectly fair. If, through all the histories of that 
 suffering period, I had discovered one redeeming quality 
 about Clavers, I would have brought it forward, but I 
 found none. He had the nature of a wolf and the 
 bravery of a bull-dog. 
 
THE 
 
 BROWNIE OF BODSBECK, 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 " IT will be a bloody night in Gemsop this," said 
 Walter of Chapelhope, as he sat one evening by the side 
 of his little parlour fire, and wrung the rim of his wet 
 bonnet into the grate. His wife sat by his side, airing a 
 pair of clean hosen for her husband, to replace his wet 
 ones. She looked stedfastly in his face, but uttered not 
 a word ; it was one of those looks that cannot be de- 
 scribed, but it bespoke the height of curiosity, mingled 
 with a kind of indefinite terror. She loved and respected 
 her husband, and sometimes was wont to tease or cajole 
 him from his purpose ; but one glance of his' eye, or 
 scowl of his eyebrow, was a sufficient admonition to her 
 when she ventured to use such freedom. 
 
 The anxious stare that she bent on his face at this 
 time was inquiry enough, what he meant by the short 
 and mysterious sentence he had just uttered ; but from 
 the fulness of his heart he had said that which he could 
 not recall, and had no mind to commit himself farther. 
 His eldest son, John, was in the room too, which he had 
 not remarked before he spoke, and therefore he took the 
 first opportunity to change the subject. ** Gudewife," 
 said he, tartly, " what are ye sittin glowrin like a bendit 
 wulcat there for ? Gae away and get me something to 
 eat ; I'm like to fa' atwae wi' sheer hunger." 
 
 " Hunger, father !" said the lad ; " I'm sure I saw ye 
 A 2 
 
6 THE BROWNIE 
 
 take as muckle meat to the hill with you as might have 
 served six." 
 
 Walter looked first over the one shoulder at him, and 
 then over the other, but, repressing his wrath, he sat 
 silent about the space of two minutes, as if he had not 
 heard what the youth said. " Gallant," then said he, 
 with the greatest seeming composure, " rin away to the 
 hill, an' see after the eild nowt ; ca' them up by the 
 Quave Burn, an' bide wi' them till they lie down, gin 
 that sudna be till twal o'clock at night Gae away when 
 I bid ye What are ye mungin at ?" And saying so, he 
 gave him such a thwack on the neck and shoulders with 
 the wet bonnet as made him make the best of his way to 
 the door. Whether he drove the young cattle as far as 
 the Quave Burn, or whether he looked after them that 
 night or not, Walter made no further inquiry. 
 
 He sat still by his fire wrapt in deep thought, which 
 seemed to increase his uneasy and fretful mood. Maron 
 Linton, (for that was the goodwife of Chapelhope's name) 
 observing the bad humour of her husband, and knowing 
 for certain that something disagreeable had befallen him, 
 wisely forbore all intermeddling or teasing questions re- 
 specting the cause. Long experience had taught her the 
 danger of these. She bustled about, and set him down 
 the best fare that the house afforded ; then, taking up her 
 tobacco pipe, she meditated an escape into the kitchen. 
 She judged that a good hearty meal by himself might 
 somewhat abate his chagrin ; and, besides, the ominous 
 words were still ringing in her ears >" It will be a bloody 
 night in Gemsop this" and she longed to sound the shep- 
 herds that were assembled around the kitchen fire, in order 
 u> find out their import. Walter, however, perceiving her 
 drift, stopped her short with " Gudewife, whar are ye 
 gaun sae fast ? Come back an 1 sit down here, I want to 
 speak t'ye." 
 
 Maron trembled at the tone in which these words 
 were spoken, but nevertheless did as she was desired, and 
 sat down again by the fire. " Weel, Watie, what is't r f" 
 said she, in a low and humble tone. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 7 
 
 Walter plied his spoon for some time, without deigning 
 any reply ; then turning full upon her, " Has Kate been 
 in her bed every night this week ?" asked he seriously. 
 
 " Dear gudeman, whaten a question's that to speer at 
 me ? What can hae put sic a norie i' your head as that ?" 
 
 " That's no answerin my question, Maron, but speerin 
 ither twa instead o't : I ask ye gin Kate hasna been out 
 o' her bed for some nights bygane." 
 
 " How sude I ken ony thing about that, gudeman? 
 ye may gang an' speer at her Out o' her bed, quotha ! 
 Na there'll nae young skempy amang them wile her 
 out o' her bed i' the night-time. Dear gudeman, what has 
 put it i' your head that our bairn stravaigs i' the night- 
 time ?" 
 
 " Na, na, Maron, there's nae mortal soul will ever gar 
 ye answer to the point." 
 
 " Dear gudeman, wha heard ever tell o' a mortal soul? 
 the soul's no mortal at a' Didna ye hear our ain 
 worthy curate-clerk say " 
 
 " O, Maron I Maron ! yell aye be the auld woman, if 
 the warld sude turn upside-down ! Canna ye answer my 
 question simply, ay or no, as far as ye ken, whether our 
 daughter has been out o' her bed at midnight for some 
 nights bygane or no ? If ye ken that she has, canna ye 
 tell me sae at aince, without ganging about the bush ? 
 it's a thing that deeply concerns us baith." 
 
 " Troth, gudeman, gin she has been out o' her bed, 
 mony an honest man's bairn has been out o' her bed at 
 midnight afore her, an' nae ill in her mind nouther 
 the thing's as common as the rising o' the se'en sterns." 
 
 Walter turned towards his meal, after casting a look 
 of pity and despair upon his yokefellow, who went on at 
 great length defending the equivocal practice of young 
 women who might deem it meet and convenient to leave 
 their beds occasionally by night ; and at length, with more 
 sagacity than usual, concluded her arguments with the fol- 
 lowing home remark : " Ye ken fu' weel, gudeman, ye 
 courtit me i' the howe o' the night yoursel ; an' Him that 
 kens the heart kens weel that I hae never had cause to rue 
 
8 THE BROWNIE 
 
 our bits o' trysts i' the dark Na, na ! mony's the time an* 
 aft that I hae blest them, an' thought o' them wi' plea- 
 sure ! We had ae kind o' happiness then, Watie, we hae 
 another now, an' we'll hae another yet." 
 
 There was something in this appeal that it would have 
 been unnatural to have resisted. There is a tenderness 
 in the recollection of early scenes of mutual joy and love, 
 that invariably softens the asperity of our nature, and 
 draws the heart by an invisible bond toward the sharer of 
 these ; but when these scenes are at one view connected 
 with the present and the future, the delight receives a 
 tinge of sublimity. In short, the appeal was one of 
 the most happy that ever fell from the lips of a simple 
 and ignorant, though a well-meaning woman. It was 
 not lost upon Walter ; who, though of a rough exterior 
 and impatient humour, was a good man. He took his 
 wife's hand and pressed it fervently. 
 
 " My gude auld wife," said he, " God bless ye ! -Ye 
 hae bits o' queer gates whiles, but I wadna part wi' ye, or 
 see ane o' your grey hairs wranged, for a' the ewes on 
 the Hermon Law." Maron gave two or three sobs, and 
 put the corner of her check-apron upon the eye that was 
 next Walter. " Fair fa' your heart, Maron," said he, 
 " we'll say nae mair about it ; but, my woman, we maun 
 crack about our bits o' hame affairs, an' I had the strong- 
 est reasons for coming to the truth o' yon ; however, I'll 
 try ither means. But, Maron Linton, there's anither 
 thing, that in spite o' my heart is like to breed me muckle 
 grief, an' trouble, an' shame. Maron, has the Brownie 
 o' Bodsbeck been ony mair seen about the town ?" 
 
 " Troth, gudeman, ye're aye sae hard i' the belief 
 wi' a' your kindness to me and mine, ye hae a -dour, stiff, 
 unbowsome kind o' nature in ye it'll hardly souple whan 
 steepit i' yer ain e'esight but I can tell ye for news, ye'll 
 no hae a servant about yer house, man, woman, nor boy, 
 in less than a fortnight, if this wicked and malevolent 
 spirit canna be put away an' I may say i' the language 
 o' Scripture, ' My name is Legion, for we are many.' 
 It's no ae Brownie, nor twa, nor half-a-score, that's about 
 
OF BODSBECK. 9 
 
 the house, but a great multitude they say they're ha'f 
 deils ha'f fock a thing that I dinna weel understand. 
 But how many bannocks think ye I hae baken in our 
 house these eight days, an' no a crust o' them to the fore 
 but that wee bit on your timber trencher? Half-a- 
 dizen o' dizens, gudeman ! a' the meal girnels i' the 
 country wadna stand it, let abee the wee bit meal ark o' 
 Chapelhope." 
 
 " Gudewife, I'm perfectly stoundit. I dinna ken 
 what to say, or what to think, or what to do j an' the mair 
 sae o' what I have heard sin' I gaed to the hill Auld 
 John o' the Muchrah, our herd, wha I ken wadna tell a lee 
 for the Laird o' Drummelzier's estate, saw an unco sight 
 the night afore last." 
 
 " Mercy on us, gudeman ! what mair has been seen 
 about this unlucky place ?" 
 
 " I'll tell ye, gudewife on Monanday night he cam 
 yont to stop the ewes aff the hogg-fence, but or it was 
 lang he saw a white thing an' a black thing comin' up the 
 Houm close thegither ; they cam by within three cat- 
 loups o' him he grippit his cudgel firm, an' was aince 
 gaun to gie them strength o' arm, but his power failed 
 him an' a' his sinnens grew like dockans ; there was a 
 kind o' glamour cam o'er his een too, for a' the 'Hope an' 
 the heaven grew as derk as tar an' pitch but the settin 
 moon shone even hi their faces, and he saw them as weel 
 as it had been fore-day. The tane was a wee bit hurk- 
 lin crile of an unearthly thing, as shrinkit an' wan as he 
 had lien seven years i' the grave ; the tither was like a 
 young woman an' what d'ye think ? he says he'll gang 
 to death wi't that it was outher our dochter or her 
 wraith." 
 
 Maron lifted up her eyes and her clasped hands toward 
 the ceiling, and broke out with the utmost vehemence in- 
 to the following raving ejaculation : " O mercy, mercy ! 
 Watie Laidlaw ! O, may Hun that dwalls atween the 
 Sherubeams be wi' us and preserve us and guide us, for 
 we are undone creatures ! 'O, Watie Laidlaw, Watie 
 Laidlaw ! there's the wheel within the wheel, the mystery 
 
10 THE BROWNIE 
 
 o* Babylon, the mother of harlots, and abominations of 
 the earth " 
 
 " Maron Linton! What are ye sayin ? Haud your 
 tongue, Maron Linton." 
 
 " O gudeman, I thought it was the young fallows ye 
 jaloosed her wi' I wish it had. I wad rather hae seen 
 her i' the black stool, in the place where repentance is to 
 be hoped for ; but now she's i' the deil's ain hands. I 
 jaloosed it, Watie I kend it I was sure o't lang syne 
 our bairn's changed she's transplanted she's no 
 Keaty Laidlaw now, but an unearthly creature we might 
 weei hae kend that flesh an' blude could never be sae 
 bonny Gudeman, I hae an awsome tale to tell you 
 Wha think ye was it that killed Cl avers' Highlanders ?" 
 
 " That, I suppose, will remain a mystery till the day 
 when a' secrets will be cleared up, an' a' the deeds o' 
 darkness brought to light." 
 
 " Sae may it be, Watie! Sae may it be! But it was 
 neither ane nor ither but our ain only dochter Kate." 
 
 " Ye're ravin, Maron troth, ye're gaun daft a bit 
 sklendry lassie o' aughteen kill sae mony armed High- 
 landers ? Hout fye! keep within bounds, Maron." 
 
 " I heard her wi' thir lugs it's i' my ain head Stannin 
 on that very room floor, I heard her gie the orders to her 
 Brownie. She was greetin whan I cam in I listened 
 and heard her saying, while her heart was like to loup, 
 ' Wae's me! O wae's me! or mid-day their blood will 
 be rimiin like water! The auld an' the young, the 
 bonny an* the gude, the sick an* the woundit That 
 blude may cry to Heaven, but the cauld earth will drink 
 it up ; days may be better, but waur they canna be ! 
 Down wi' the clans, Brownie, and spare nae ane. 7 In 
 less than ten minutes after that, the men were found 
 dead. Now, Watie, this is a plain an' positive truth." 
 
 Walter's blood curdled within him at this relation. He 
 was superstitious, but he always affected to disbelieve the 
 existence of the Brownie, though the evidences were so 
 strong as not to admit of any doubt ; but this double 
 assurance, that his only daughter, whom he loved above 
 
OF BODSBECK. 1 I 
 
 all the world besides was leagued with evil spirits, utterly 
 confounded him. He charged his wife, in the most so- 
 lemn manner, never more, during her life, to mention 
 the mysterious circumstance relating to the death of the 
 Highland soldiers. It is not easy to conceive a pair in 
 more consummate astonishment than Walter and his 
 spouse were by the time the conversation had reached 
 this point. The one knew not what to think, to reject, 
 or believe the other believed all, without comprehend- 
 ing a single iota of what she did believe ; her mind en- 
 deavoured to grasp a dreadful imaginary form, but the 
 dimensions were too ample for its reasoning powers ; they 
 were soon dilated, burst, and were blown about, as it 
 were, in a world of vision and terror. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 BEFORE proceeding with the incidents as they occurred, 
 which is the common way of telling a story in the coun- 
 try, it will be necessary to explain some circumstances 
 alluded to in the foregoing chapter. 
 
 Walter Laidlaw rented the extensive bounds of Chapel - 
 hope from the Laird of Drummelzier. He was a sub- 
 stantial, and even a wealthy man, as times went then, for 
 he had a stock of 3000 sheep, cattle, and horses ; and 
 had, besides, saved considerable sums of money, which 
 he had lent out to neighbouring farmers who were not in 
 circumstances so independent as himself. 
 
 He had one only daughter, his darling, who was 
 adorned with every accomplishment which the country 
 could then afford, and with every grace and beauty that 
 a country maiden may possess. He had likewise two 
 sons, who were younger than she, and a number of shep- 
 herds and female servants. 
 
 The time in which the incidents here recorded took 
 
12 THE BROWNIE 
 
 place, was, I believe, in the autumn of the year 1685, 
 the most dismal and troublous time that these districts of 
 the south and west of Scotland ever saw, or have since 
 seen. The persecution for religion then raged in its 
 wildest and most unbridled fury : the Covenanters, or 
 the whigs, as they were then called, were proscribed, 
 imprisoned, and at last hunted down like wild beasts. 
 Graham, Viscount of Dundee, better known by the de- 
 tested name of Clavers, set loose his savage troopers 
 upon those peaceful districts, with peremptory orders to 
 plunder, waste, disperse, and destroy the conventiclers, 
 wherever they might be found. 
 
 The shepherds knew, or thought they knew, that no 
 human being frequented these places. They lived in 
 terror and consternation. Those who had no tie in the 
 country left it, and retreated into the vales, where the 
 habitations of men are numerous, and where the fairy, 
 the Brownie, or the walking ghost, is rarely seen. Such 
 as had friends whom they could not leave, or sheep and 
 cattle upon the lands, as the farmers and shepherds had, 
 were obliged to remain, but their astonishment and awe 
 continued to increase. They knew there was but one 
 Being to whom they could apply for protection against 
 these unearthly visitants ; family worship was begun both 
 at evening and morning in the farmer's hall and the most 
 remote hamlet ; and that age introduced a spirit of devo- 
 tion into those regions, which one hundred and thirty 
 years' continuance of the utmost laxity and indecision in 
 religious principles has not yet been able wholly to eradi- 
 cate. 
 
 It is likewise necessary to mention here, though per- 
 fectly well known, that every corner of that distracted 
 country was furnished with a gownsman, to instruct the 
 inhabitants in the mild and benignant principles of pre- 
 lacy, but chiefly to act as spies upon the detested whigs. 
 In the fulfilment of this last task they were not re- 
 miss ; they proved the most inveterate and incorrigible 
 enemies that the poor covenanters had. 
 
 The officiating priest at the kirk of Saint Mary of the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 13 
 
 Lowes had been particularly active in this part of his 
 commission. The smallest number could not be con- 
 vened for the purposes of public devotion two or 
 three stragglers could not be seen crossing the country, 
 but information was instantly sent to Clavers, or some 
 one of his officers ; and, at the same time, these devo- 
 tional meetings were always described to be of the most 
 atrocious and rebellious nature. The-whigs became grie- 
 vously incensed against this ecclesiastic, for, in the bleak- 
 est mountain of their native land, they could not enjoy a 
 lair in common with the foxes and the wild-goats in 
 peace, nor worship their God without annoyance in the 
 dens and caves of the earth. Their conventicles, though 
 held hi places ever so remote, were broken in upon and 
 dispersed by armed troops, and their ministers and breth- 
 ren carried away to prisons, to banishment, and to death. 
 They waxed desperate ; and what will not desperate men 
 do ? They waylaid, and seized upon one of the priest's 
 emissaries by night, a young female, who was running on 
 a message to Grierson of Lag. Overcome with fear at 
 being in custody of such frightful-looking fellows, with 
 their sallow cheeks and long beards, she confessed the 
 whole, and gave up her despatches. These were of the 
 most aggravated nature. Forthwith two or three of the 
 most hardy of the whigs, without the concurrence or 
 knowledge of then* brethren, posted straight to the Vir- 
 gin's chapel that very night, shot the chaplain, and buried 
 him at a small distance from his own little solitary man- 
 sion ; at the same time giving out to the country, that he 
 was a sorcerer, an adulterer, and a character every way evil. 
 His name has accordingly been handed down to posterity 
 as a most horrid necromancer. 
 
 This was a rash and unpremeditated act ; and, as might 
 well have been foreseen, the cure proved worse than the 
 disease. It brought the -armed troops upon them both 
 from the east and the west. Clavers came to Traquair, 
 and stationed companies of troops in a line across the 
 country. The Laird of Lag placed a body of men in the 
 narrowest pass of Moffatdale, in the only path by which 
 
14 THE BROWNIE 
 
 these mountains are accessible. Thus all communica- 
 tion was cut off between the mountain -men and the 
 western counties ; for every one who went or came by 
 that way, these soldiers took prisoner, searched, and ex- 
 amined ; and one lad, who was coming from Moffat, 
 carrying more bread than they thought he could well ac- 
 count for, they shot dead on the spot just as he had dropt 
 on his knees to pray. 
 
 A curate, named Clerk, still remained, to keep an eye 
 upon the whigs and pester them. He had the charge of 
 two chapels in that vicinity ; the one at a place now call- 
 ed Kirkhope, which was dedicated to Saint Irene, a saint 
 of whom the narrator of this story could give no ac- 
 count. The other was dedicated to Saint Lawrence ; 
 the remains of it are still to be seen at Chapelhope, 
 in a small circular inclosure on the west side of the 
 burn. Clerk was as malevolent to the full against 
 the proscribed party as his late brother, but he wanted 
 the abilities of the deceased ; he was ignorant, supersti- 
 tious, and had assumed a part of that fanaticism in religion 
 by which many of the adverse party were distinguished. 
 By this principally he had gained some influence among 
 his hearers, on whom he tried every stimulant to influence 
 them against the whigs. The goodwife of Chapelhope 
 was particularly attached to him and his tenets ; he held 
 her completely in leading-strings ; her conscience approved 
 of everything, or disapproved, merely as he directed; he 
 flattered her for her deep knowledge in true and sound 
 divinity and the Holy Scriptures, although of both she 
 was grossly ignorant. But she had learned from her 
 preceptor a kind of cant a jargon of religious terms and 
 sentences of Scripture mixed, of which she had great 
 pride but little understanding. She was just such a 
 character as would have been a whig, had she ever had 
 an opportunity of hearing or conversing with any of that 
 sect. Few things could be so truly ludicrous as some 
 of her exhibitions in a religious style. The family 
 and servants were in general swayed by their mistress, 
 who took a decided part with Clerk in all his schemes 
 
OF BODSBECK. 15 
 
 against the whigs, and constantly dispatched one of her 
 own servants to carry his messages of information to 
 the king's officers. This circumstance soon became 
 known to the mountain-men, and though they were al- 
 ways obliged to take refuge on the lands of Chapelhope 
 by day, they avoided carefully all communication with the 
 family or shepherds (for several of the shepherds on that 
 farm lived in cottages at a great distance from one another 
 and from the farm-house.) 
 
 Walter despised Clerk and his tenets most heartily ; 
 he saw that he was a shallow, hypocritical, and selfish 
 being, and that he knew nothing of the principles in 
 which he pretended to instruct them ; therefore he sorely 
 regretted the influence that he had gained over his fami- 
 ly. Neither did he approve of the rigid and rebellious 
 principles which he believed the Covenanters professed. 
 When he met with any man, or community of men, who 
 believed firmly in any thing and held it sacred, Walter 
 revered that, and held it sacred likewise ; but it was 
 rather from a deference to the belief and feelings of his 
 fellow creatures than his own conviction. In short, Wal- 
 ter was an honest, conscientious, good, old-fashioned man, 
 but he made no great fuss about religion, and many sup- 
 posed that he did not care a pin who was right or who 
 was wrong. 
 
 On the 23d of August, Clavers dispatched nineteen 
 men from Traquair, under the command of one Copland, 
 a gentleman volunteer in his troop, and a very brave 
 young man, to gain intelligence concerning the mur- 
 der of the curate, and use every means to bring the 
 perpetrators to justice. Copland and his men came to 
 the mansion of the late chaplain, where they remained all 
 the night, and made every inquiry that they could con- 
 cerning the murderers. Several witnesses were brought 
 in and examined, and among others the very identical 
 girl whom the whigs took prisoner, and robbed of the 
 dispatches. She had heard the letter read by one of the 
 gang who seized her, while the rest stood and listened. 
 It bore, " that great numbers of the broken and rebel- 
 
16 THE BROWNIE 
 
 lious traitors kenneled in the wilds around Loch-Skene, 
 from whence they committed depredations on all the 
 countries about ; that they likewise made religious incur- 
 sions into those districts, where great multitudes attended 
 then* inflammatory harangues." It also stated, " that a 
 noted incendiary was to preach on such a day in Riskin- 
 hope Linn, where the whole group might easily be sur- 
 rounded and annihilated ; that many of them were armed 
 with guns, bludgeons, and broad-swords, but that they 
 were the most cowardly, heartless dogs alive ; and that 
 he himself, who had private and certain information of all 
 their hiding places, would engage to rid the country of 
 them in a few days, if Lag would allow him but one com- 
 pany of soldiers." 
 
 Copland now began to suspect that his force was too 
 small to accomplish any thing of moment ; he determined, 
 however, to make a dash into the wild next morning, 
 and, if possible, to seize some prisoners, and thereby 
 gain more accurate information. On the morning of the 
 24th, having procured two trusty guides, he proceeded 
 on his expedition. He and nine of his followers went up 
 by a place called Sheilhope, the other nine by Chapel- 
 hope : they were to scour the broken ground, take all 
 those prisoners whom they found skulking, fire upon such 
 as refused to stand, and meet on a certain height at noon. 
 Copland and his party reached the appointed place with- 
 out making any reprisal ; they perceived some stragglers 
 on the heights and rocks at a great distance, who always 
 vanished away, like beings not of this world. Three of 
 the other party took one poor lad prisoner, who was so 
 spent and emaciated that he had been unable to fly at the 
 signal-sound ; but so intent were they on blood that he 
 was not even brought before their leader, who never so 
 much as knew of the capture. 
 
 The guide was wont to relate the circumstances of 
 this poor man's trial and execution, for, but for him, no 
 such thing would ever have been known ; the death of a 
 whig, or a straggler of any kind, was then a matter of no 
 concern They were three Braemar Highlanders who 
 
OF BODSBECK. 1 7 
 
 took him ; like the most part of his associates, he answered 
 their questions in a surly manner, and by the most cut- 
 ting retorts, which particularly enraged a Donald Far- 
 quharson, one of the party, against him. " Weel, 111 pe 
 pitting you to 'e test, and tat fery shun, my coot freen," 
 said Donald ; " and I'll just pe telling you, eince for a', 
 tat ye haif ne meer but twa meenets and a half to leef." 
 
 The poor forlorn wight answered, " that he expected 
 no better at their hands, that he desired no longer time, 
 and he hoped they would bear patiently with him for 
 that short space." He then kneeled down and prayed 
 most fervently, while Donald, who wanted only a hair to 
 make a tether of, as the saying is, seemed watching dili- 
 gently for a word at which to quarrel. At length he 
 spoke words to the following purport. " Father, forgive 
 these poor misled creatures, as I forgive them ; they are 
 running blindly upon a wrong path, and without the 
 power of thy grace they shall never gain the right one 
 more." Donald, who did not well understand the dialect 
 in which the prisoner prayed, looked shrewdly at his com- 
 panions. " Dugald More," said he " Dugald More, fat's 
 'e man saying ?" 
 
 " He is praying," replied the other, " that we may lose 
 our way, and never find it more." 
 
 " Plast 'e soul o' 'e tief, is he ?" said Donald, and 
 shot him through the body. 
 
 The wounded man groaned, and cried most piteously, 
 and even called out "murder," but there was none to 
 rescue or regard him. The soldiers, however, cut the 
 matter short, by tossing him into a deep hole in the 
 morass, where he sunk in the mire and was seen no more. 
 
 When Copland arrived at the place of rendezvous, five 
 out of his ten associates were no where to be seen, nor 
 did they make their appearance, although he tarried there 
 till two in the afternoon. The guide then conducted him 
 by the path on which those missing should have come, 
 and on arriving at a narrow pass in Chapelhope, he found 
 the bodies of the four soldiers and their guide mangled 
 and defaced in no ordinary way ; and judging from this 
 B 2 
 
18 THE BROWNIE 
 
 that he had been long enough in that neighbourhood, he 
 hasted back to Traquair with the news- of the loss. Cla- 
 vers is said to have broke out into the most violent rage, 
 and to have sworn that night by the Blessed Virgin and 
 all the Holy Trinity, utterly to extirpate the seed of 
 the whining psalm-singing race from the face of the 
 earth, and that ere Beltein there should not be as much 
 whig blood in Scotland as would make a dish of soup 
 to a dog. He however concealed from the privy coun- 
 cil the loss of these five men, nor did they ever know 
 of it to this day. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 THINGS were precisely in this state, when the good- 
 man of Chapelhope, taking his plaid and staff, went out 
 to the heights one misty day in autumn to drive off a 
 neighbour's flock from his pasture ; but, as Walter was 
 wont to relate the story himself, when any stranger came 
 there on a whiter evening, as long as he lived, it may 
 haply be acceptable to the curious, and the lovers of 
 rustic simplicity, to read it in his own words, although 
 he drew it out to an inordinate length, and perhaps kept 
 his own personal feelings and prowess too much in view 
 for the fastidious or critical reader to approve. 
 
 " It was on a mirk misty day in September," said Wal- 
 ter, " I mind it weel, that I took my plaid about me, and 
 a bit gay steeve aik stick in my hand, and away I sets to 
 turn aff the Winterhopeburn sheep. The wind had been 
 cast-about a' that hairst, I hae some sma' reason ne'er to 
 forget it, and they had amaist gane wi' a' the gairs i' our 
 North Grain. I weel expected I wad find them a' in the 
 scaithe that dark day, and I was just amind to tak them 
 name in a drove to Aidie Andison's door, and say, ' Here's 
 yer sheep for ye, lad ; ye maun outlier keep them better, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 19 
 
 or else, gude faith, I'll keep them for ye.' I had been 
 crost and put about wi' them a' that year, and I was just 
 gaun to bring the screw to the neb o' the mire-snipe. 
 Weel, off I sets I had a special dog at my foot, and a 
 bit gay fine stick in my hand, and I was rather cross- 
 natured that day-' Auld Wat's no gaun to be o'er- 
 trampit wi' nane o' them, for a' that's come and gane yet,' 
 quo' I to mysel as I gaed up the burn. Weel, I slings 
 aye on wi' a gay lang step ; but, by the time that I had 
 won the Forkings, I gat collied amang the mist, sae derk, 
 that fient a spark I could see >Stogs aye on through 
 cleuch and gill, and a' the gairs that they used to spounge, 
 but, to my great mervel, I can nouther see a hair of a 
 ewe's tail, nor can I hear the bleat of a lamb, or the bell 
 of a wether No ane, outher of my ain or ither folks ! 
 
 * Ay,' says I to mysel, ' what can be the meaning o' this ? 
 od, there has been somebody here afore me the day !' I 
 was just standin looking about me amang the lang hags 
 that lead out frae the head o' the North Grain, and con- 
 sidering what could be wort of a' the sheep, when 1 no- 
 ticed my dog, Reaver, gaun couring away forrit as he had 
 been setting a fox. What's this, thinks I On he gangs 
 very angry like, cocking his tail, and setting uphisbirses, 
 till he wan to the very brink of a deep hag ; but when 
 lie gat there, my certy, he wasna lang in turning ! Back 
 he comes, by me, an' away as the deil had been chasing 
 him ; as terrified a beast I saw never Od, sir, I fand the 
 very hairs o' my head begin to creep, and a prinkling 
 through a' my veins and skin like needles and preens. 
 
 * God guide us !' thinks I, < what can this be f The day 
 was derk, derk; for I was in the very stamoch o' the 
 cludd, as it were ; still it was the day time, a-n' the e'e o' 
 Heaven was open. I was as near turned an' run after 
 my tike as ever I'll miss, but I just fand a stound o' man- 
 heid gang through my heart, an' forrit I sets wi' a' the 
 vents o' my head open. * If it's flesh an' blude,' thinks 
 I, ' or it get the owrance o* auld Wat Laidlaw, od it sal 
 get strength o' arm for aince.' It was a deep hag, as 
 deep as the wa's o' this house, and a strip o' green sward 
 
20 THE BROWNIE 
 
 alang the bottom o't ; and when I came to the brow, what 
 does I see but twa lang liesh chaps lying sleeping at. 
 ither's sides, baith happit wi' the same maud. ' Hallo ! J 
 cries I, wi' a stern voice, ' wha hae we here ?' If ye had 
 but seen how they lookit when they stertit up ; od, ye 
 wad hae thought they were twa scoundrels wakened frae 
 the dead ! I never saw twa mair hemp-looking dogs in 
 my life. 
 
 * What are ye feared for, lads ? Whaten twa blades 
 are ye ? Or what are ye seeking in sic a place as this ?' 
 
 * This is a derk day, gudeman.' 
 
 ' This is a derk day, gudeman ! That's sic an answer 
 as I heard never. I wish ye wad tell me something I 
 dinna ken and that's wha ye are, and what ye're seek- 
 ing here?' 
 
 ' We're seeking nought o' yours, friend.' 
 
 * I dinna believe a word o't ye're nae folk o' this 
 country I doubt ye ken o'er weel what stealing o' sheep 
 is But if ye winna tell me plainly and honestly your 
 business here, the deil be my inmate gin I winna knock 
 your twa heads thegither.' 
 
 ' There is a gude auld say, honest man, It is best to let 
 sleeping dogs lie, they may rise and bite you' 
 
 1 Bite me, lad ! Rise an' bite me ! I wad like to see 
 a dog on a' the heights o' Chapelhope that wad snarl at 
 me, let be to bite !' 
 
 " I had a gay steeve dour aik stick in my hand, an' 
 wi' that I begoud to heave't up, no to strike them, but 
 just to gi'e them aglisk o' the coming-on that was in't. 
 By this time they were baith on their feet ; and the ane 
 that was neist me he gi'es the labbie of his jockey-coat a 
 fling back, and out he pu's a braid sword frae aneath it 
 an' wi' the same blink, the ither whups a sma* spear out 
 o' the heart o' his aik stick, Here's for ye then, auld 
 camstary,' says they ; ' an unlucky fish gets an unlucky 
 bait.' Od sir, I was rather stoundit ; I began to look 
 o'er my shouther, but there was naething there but the 
 swathes o' mist. What wad I hae gien for twa minutes 
 of auld John o' the Muchrah ! However, there was nae 
 
OF BODSBECK. 21 
 
 time to lose it was come fairly to the neb o' the mire- 
 snipe wi' me. I never was gude when taken by surprise 
 a' my life gie me a wee time, an' I turn quite founde- 
 mental then sae, to tell the truth, in my hurry I took 
 the flier's part, flang the plaid frae me, and ran off up the 
 hag as fast as my feet could carry me, an* a' the gate the 
 ragamuffian wi' the sword was amaist close at my heels. 
 The bottom o' the hag was very narrow, twa could hardly 
 rin abreast. My very bluid began to rise at being chased 
 by twa skebels, and I thought I heard a voice within me, 
 crying, ' Dinna flee, Wat Laidlaw ! dinna flee, auld Wat ! 
 ye hae a gude cause by the end !' I wheeled just round 
 in a moment, sir, and drew a desperate straik at the fore- 
 most, an' sae little kend the haniel about fencing, that 
 instead o' sweeing aff my downcome wi' his sword, he 
 held up his sword-arm to save his head I gart his arm 
 just snap like a pipe-stapple, and down fell his bit whittle 
 to the ground, and he on aboon it. The tither, wi' his 
 sma' spear, durstna come on, but ran for it ; I followed, 
 and was mettler o' foot than he, but I durstna grip him, 
 for fear he had run his bit spit through my sma-fairns i' 
 the struggle, for it was as sharp as a lance, but I keepit 
 a little back till I gat the end o 1 my stick just i' the how 
 o' his neck, and then I gae him a push that soon gart him 
 plew the flow with his nose. On aboon him I gets, and 
 the first thing I did was to fling away his bit twig of a 
 sword I gart it shine through the air like a fiery dragon 
 then I took him by the cuff o' thg neck, and lugged 
 him back to his neighbour, wha was lying graning in the 
 hag. ' Now, billies,' says I, ' ye shall answer face to face, 
 it wad hae been as good soon as syne ; tell me directly 
 wha ye are, and what's your business here, or, d'ye hear 
 me, I'll tye ye thegither like twa tikes, and tak ye to them 
 that will gar ye speak.' 
 
 ' Ah ! lack-a-day, lack-a-day !' said the wounded man, 
 ' ye're a rash, foolish, passionate, man, whaever ye be.' 
 
 * Ye're maybe no very far wrang there,' quo' I; * but 
 for aince, I trow, I had gude reason. Ye thought to kill 
 me wi' your bits o' shabbies o' swords !' 
 
22 THE BROWNIK 
 
 ' In the first place then,' said he, ' ken that we wadna 
 hae shed ae drap o' your blood, nor wranged a hair o' 
 your head all that we wanted was to get quit of ye, to 
 keep ye out o' danger an' scaith. Ye hae made a bonny 
 day's wark on't truly, we had naething in view but your 
 ain safety but sin' ye will ken ye maun ken ; we be- 
 lang to a poor proscribed remnant, that hae fled from the 
 face of a bloody persecution. We have left all, and lost 
 all, for the cause of our religion, and are driven into this 
 dismal wilderness, the only miserable retreat left us in our 
 native land.' 
 
 ' Od, sir ! he hadna weel begun to speak till the light 
 o' the truth began to dawn within me like the brek o' the 
 day-sky, an' I grew as red too, for the devil needna hae 
 envied me my feelings at that time. I couldna help say- 
 ing to mysel, 'Whow, whow, Wat Laidlaw ! but ye hae 
 made a bonny job o't this morning ! Here's twa puir 
 creatures, worn out wi' famine and watching, come to 
 seek a last refuge amang your hags and mosses, and ye 
 maun fa' to and be pelting and threshing on them like an 
 incarnate devil as ye are. Oh, wae's me ! wae's me !' 
 Lord, sir, I thought my heart wad burst There was a 
 kind o' yuke came into my een that I could hardly bruke ; 
 but at length the muckle tears wan out wi' a sair faught, 
 and down they came ower my beard, dribble for dribble. 
 The men saw the pliskie that I was in, and there was a 
 kind o' ruefu' benevolence i' their looks I never saw ony 
 thing like it.' 
 
 ' Dinna be wae for us, honest man,' said they ; * we 
 hae learned to suffer we hae kend nought else for this 
 mony a lang and bloody year, an' we look for nought else 
 for the wee while we hae to sojourn in this weary world 
 we hae learned to suffer patiently, and to welcome our 
 sufferings as mercies.' 
 
 ' Ye've won a gude length, man,' quo' I ; 'but they're 
 mercies that I'm never very fond o' I wish ye had suf- 
 fered under ony hand but mine, sin' it be your lot.' 
 
 * Dinna be sorry for us, honest man ; there never was 
 an act o' mair justice than this that ye hae inflicted. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 23 
 
 Last night there were fifteen o' us met at evening wor- 
 ship we hadna tasted meat for days and nights ; to pre- 
 serve our miserable lives, we stole a sheep, dressed, and 
 ate it ; and wi' this very arm that you hae disabled, did I 
 grip and kill that sheep. It was a great sin, nae doubt, 
 but the necessity was also great I am sae far punished, 
 and I hope the Lord will forgie the rest.' 
 
 Then he began a lang serious harangue about the riches 
 o' free grace, and about the wickedness o' our nature ; 
 and said, that we could do naething o' oursells but sin. 
 I said it was a hard construction, but I couldna argy the 
 point ava wi' him I never was gude at these lang-' 
 winded stories. Then they cam on about prelacy and 
 heresies, and something they ca'd the act of abjuration. 
 I couldna follow him out at nae rate ; but I says, ' I 
 pit nae doubt, callants, but ye're right, for ye hae 
 proven to a' the warld that ye think sae ; and when a 
 man feels conscious that he's right, I never believe he 
 can be far wrang in sic matters. But that's no the point 
 in question ; let us consider what can be done for ye e'en 
 now Poor souls ! God kens, my heart's sair for ye ; 
 but this land's mine, an' a' the sheep around ye, an' ye're 
 welcome to half-a-dozen o' the best o' them in sic a case.' 
 
 ' Ah ! lack-a-day, lack-a-day ! If ye be the gudeman 
 o' the Chapelhope, ye'll rue the day that ever ye saw us. 
 If it's kend that ye countenanced us in word or deed, ye're 
 a ruined man ; for the blood-hounds are near at hand, 
 and they'll herry ye out and in, but and ben Lack-a- 
 day ! lack-a-day ! in a wee while we may gang and come 
 by the Chapelhope, and nouther see a lum reek, nor hear 
 a cock craw ; for Clavers is on the one hand and Lag on 
 the other, and they're coming nearer and nearer us every 
 day, and hemming us in sairer and sairer renounce us 
 and deny us, as ye wish to thrive.' 
 
 ' Na, na, lads, let them come let them come their 
 ways ! Gin they should take a' the ewes and kye on the 
 Chapelhope, I can stock it o'er again. I dinna gie a baw- 
 bee about your leagues, and covenants, and associations, 
 for I think aye there's a good deal o' faction and dourness 
 
24 THE BROWNIE 
 
 in them ; but or I'll desert a fellow-creature, that's op- 
 pressed, if he's an honest man, and lippens to me, od, I'll 
 gie them the last drap o' my heart's Lluid.' 
 
 " When they heard that, they took me out to the tap of 
 a knowe, and began to whistle like plovers nae herd alive 
 could hae kend but they were plovers and or ever I 
 wist, ilka hag, and den, and tod-hole round about, seem- 
 ed to be fu o' plovers, for they fell a' to the whistling an' 
 answering ane another at the same time. I had often 
 been wondering how they staid sae lang on the heights 
 that year, for I heard them aye whewing e'en an' morn ; 
 but little trowed I they were a' twa-handed plovers that I 
 heard. In half an hour they had sic a squad gathered 
 thegither as e'e never glimed on. There ye might hae 
 seen auld gray-bearded ministers, lairds, weavers, and 
 poor hinds, a' sharing the same hard fate. They were 
 pale, ragged, and hungry, and several o' them lame and 
 wounded ; and they had athegither sic a haggard severity 
 i' their demeaner, Lord forgie me, gin I wasna feared to 
 look at them ! There was ane o' them a doctor blade, 
 wha soon set the poor chield's arm ; and he said, that 
 after a' it wasna broken, but only dislockit and sair briz- 
 zed. That doctor was the gabbiest body ever I met wi' ; 
 he spake for them a', and I whiles feared that he sclented 
 a wee. He tried a' that he could to make me a Came- 
 ronian, but I wadna grip ; and when I was coming away 
 to leave him, ' Laidlaw,' quo' he, we ken ye to be an 
 honest, honourable man ; here you see a remnant of poor, 
 forlorn, misrepresented creatures, who have thrown them- 
 selves on your mercy ; if ye betray us, it will be the 
 worse for ye both here and hereafter ; if you save and 
 protect us, the prayers of the just win their way to Hea- 
 ven, though fiends should be standing by to oppose them 
 Ay, there's naething can stop their journey, Laidlaw 1 
 The winds canna blaw them aside, the clouds canna 
 drown them, and the lights o' Heaven canna burn them ; 
 and your name will stand at that bar where there's nae 
 cruel and partial judge What you gie to us, ye gie to 
 your Maker ; and he will repay you seven-fold.' Od, the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 25 
 
 body was like to gar me play the bairn and greet even 
 out. Weel, I canna mind the half that he said, but he 
 endit wi' this : ' We have seen our friends all bound, 
 banished, and destroyed ; they have died on the field, on 
 the scaffold, and at the stake ; but the reek o' their blood 
 shall drive the cruel Stuarts frae the land they have dis- 
 graced, and out of it a church of truth and liberty shall 
 spring. There is still a handfu' remaining in Israel that 
 have not yet bowed the knee to Baal, nor yet kissed him 
 'That remnant has fled here to escape the cruelty of 
 man ; but a worse fate threatens us now we are all of 
 us perishing with famine -For these three days we have 
 tasted nothing but the green moss, save a few wretched 
 trouts, eels, and adders.' ' Ethers, man !' quo' I, ' For the 
 love o' God take care how ye eat the ethers ye may as 
 weel cut your throats at aince as eat them. Na, na, lad, 
 that's meat that will never do.' I said nae mair, but gae 
 just a wave to my dog. * Reaver,' quo' I, ' yon's away.' 
 In three minutes he had ten score o' ewes and wedders 
 at my hand. I grippit twa o' the best I could wale, and cut 
 aff their heads wi' my am knife. ' Now, doctor,' quo' I, 
 * take these and roast them, and part them amang ye the 
 best way ye can ye'll find them better than the ethers 
 Lord, man, it will never do to eat ethers.' " 
 
 After a hearty laugh, in which his guests generally 
 joined, Walter concluded thus : " That meeting cost me 
 twa or three hunder round bannocks, and mae gude ewes 
 and wedders than I'll say ; but I never missed them, and 
 I never rued what I did. Folk may say as they like, but 
 I think aye the prayers out amang the hags and rash- 
 bushes that year did me nae ill' It is as good to hae a 
 man's blessing as his curse, let him be what he may." 
 
 Walter never went farther with his story straight on- 
 ward than this ; for it began to involve family concerns, 
 which he did not much like to recount. He had a num- 
 ber of abstract stories about the Covenanters and their 
 persecutors ; but as I must now proceed with the narrative 
 as I gathered it from others, these will be interwoven in 
 their due course. 
 
 i. c 
 
26 THE BROWNIE 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 WALTER visited them next day at the time and place 
 appointed, taking with him a dozen of bannocks and a 
 small cheese. These he was obliged to steal out of his 
 own pantry, for he durst not by any means trust his 
 wife and family with the discovery he had made, know- 
 ing that he might as well have confided it with the curate 
 himself, the sworn enemy of his motley protegees. They 
 gathered around him with protestations of gratitude and 
 esteem ; for the deserted and oppressed generally cling 
 to the first symptoms of friendship and protection with 
 an ardency that too often overshoots its aim. Walter 
 naturally felt an honest pride, not so much in that he had 
 done, as that he intended to do ; but before he produced 
 his repast, he began in a most serious way to question 
 them relating to some late incidents already mentioned. 
 
 They all with one assent declared, and took God to 
 witness, that they knew nothing at all about the death of 
 the five soldiers ; that it was not perpetrated by them, 
 nor any connected with them ; nor could they compre- 
 hend, in the least degree, how it was effected, if not by 
 some supernatural agency a judgment sent down from 
 Heaven for their bloody intent. With regard to the 
 murder of the priest, they were sorry that they knew so 
 much. It was perpetrated by a few rash men of their 
 number, but entirely without their concurrent assent, as 
 well as knowledge; that though his death might have 
 been necessary to the saving of a great number of valu- 
 able lives, they had nevertheless unanimously protested 
 against it; that the perpetrators had retired from their 
 body, they knew not whither ; and that at that very time 
 the Rev. Messrs Alexander Shiels and James Renwick 
 were engaged in arranging for publication a general pro- 
 
OF BODSBECK. 27 
 
 test against many things alleged against them by their 
 enemies, and this among others.* 
 
 There was a candour in this to which Walter's heart 
 assented. He feasted them with his plentiful and homely 
 cheer promised to visit them every day, and so to em- 
 ploy his shepherds that none of them should come into 
 that quarter to distress them. Walter was as good as 
 his word. He visited them every day told them all the 
 news that he could gather of the troops that beleaguered 
 them of the executions that were weekly and daily tak- 
 ing place and of every thing else relating to the state 
 of the country. He came loaden with food to them 
 daily ; and when he found it impossible to steal his own 
 bread, butter, and cheese, he supplied their wants from 
 his flock. The numbers of the persecuted increased on 
 his hands incalculably The gudewife of Chapelhope's 
 bannocks vanished by scores, and the unconscionable, 
 
 * This curious protest is still extant, and shows the true spirit of the old 
 Covenanters or Cameronians, as they have since been called, better than 
 any work remaining. It is called in the title page, " An informatory Fin- 
 dication of a poor, wasted, misrepresented Remnant of the suffering Anti- 
 popish, Anti-prelatic, Anti-erastian, Anti- sectarian, true Presbyterian 
 Church of Christ in Scotland." It is dated at Leadhills in 1687, and is the 
 conjoint work of Mr James Renwick, and Mr Alexander Shiels, author of 
 The Hind let loose. The following is an extract from it, p. 107 : 
 
 " And in like manner we do hereby disclaim all unwarrantable practices 
 committed by any few persons reputed to be of us, whereby the Lord hath 
 been offended, his cause wronged, and we all made to endure the scourge 
 of tongues; for which things we have desired to make conscience of 
 mourning before the Lord, both in public and private. As the unwarrant- 
 able manner of killing that curate at the Corsephairn, though he was a man 
 of death both by the laws of God and man, and the fact not materially mur- 
 der ; it being gone about contrary to our declaration, common or competent 
 consent, (the conclusion and deed being known only to three or four per- 
 sons) in a rash and not a Christian manner, and also other offences being 
 committed at the time ; which miscarriages have proven a mean to stop 
 and retard lawful, laudable, and warrantable proceeding, both as to matter 
 and manner." 
 
 These other offences committed at the time, unquestionably refer to the 
 slaughter of the Highland soldiers ; about which, there was great stir and 
 numerous conjectures in the country ; although, owing to the revolution 
 that immediately followed, the perpetrators were never taken, nor the 
 cause tried in a court of justice, nor indeed was the incident ever generally 
 known. 
 
28 THE BROWNIE 
 
 insatiable Brownie of Bodsbeck was blamed for the 
 whole. 
 
 Some time previous to this, a young vagrant, of the 
 name of Kennedy, chanced to be out on these moors 
 shooting grouse, which were extremely plentiful. He 
 tarried until the twilight, for he had the art of calling the 
 heath-fowl around him in great numbers, by imitating the 
 cry of the hen. He took liis station for this purpose in 
 one of those moss-hags formerly described ; but he had 
 not well begun to call ere his ears were saluted by the 
 whistling of so many plovers that he could not hear his 
 own voice. He was obliged to desist, and he lay for some 
 time listening, in expectation that they would soon cease 
 crying. When lying thus, he heard distinctly the sound 
 of something like human voices, that spoke in whispers 
 hard by him ; he likewise imagined that he heard the 
 pattering of feet, which he took for those of horses, and, 
 convinced that it was a raid of the fairies, he became mor- 
 tally afraid ; he crept closer to the earth, and in a short 
 time heard a swell of the most mellifluous music that ever 
 rose on the night. He then got up, and fled with pre- 
 cipitation away, as he thought, from the place whence the 
 music seemed to arise ; but ere he had proceeded above 
 a hundred paces, he met with one of the strangest ac- 
 cidents that ever happened to man. 
 
 That same night, about, or a little before, the hour of 
 midnight, two of Laidlaw's men, who happened to be 
 awake, imagined that they heard a slight noise without ; 
 they arose, and looked cautiously out at a small hole that 
 was in the end of the stable where they slept, and beheld 
 to their dismay the appearance of four men, who came 
 toward them carrying a coffin ; on their coming close to 
 the corner of the stable, where the two men stood, the 
 latter heard one of them say distinctly, in a whisper, 
 "Where shall we lay him?" 
 
 " We must leave him in the barn," said another. 
 
 " I fear," said a third, " the door of that will be locked ;" 
 and they past on. 
 
 The men were petrified ; they put on their clothes, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 29 
 
 but they durst not move, until, in a short time there- 
 after, a dreadful bellowing and noise burst forth about the 
 door of the farm-house. The family was alarmed, and 
 gathered out to see what was the matter ; and behold ! 
 there lay poor Kennedy in a most piteous plight, and, in 
 fact, stark staring mad. He continued in a high fever all 
 the night, and the next morning ; but a little after noon 
 he became somewhat more calm, and related to them a 
 most marvellous tale indeed. 
 
 He said, that by the time he arose to fly from the 
 sound of the music, the moor was become extremely 
 dark, and he could not see with any degree of accuracy 
 where he was running, but that he still continued to hear 
 the sounds, which, as he thought, came still nigher and 
 nigher behind him. He was, however, mistaken in this 
 conjecture ; for in a short space he stumbled on a hole 
 in the heath, into which he sunk at once, and fell into a 
 pit which he described as being at least fifty fathom deep ; 
 that he there found himself immediately beside a multi- 
 tude of hideous beings, with green clothes, and blue faces, 
 who sat in a circle round a small golden lamp, gaping and 
 singing with the most eldritch yells. In one instant all 
 became dark, and he felt a weight upon his breast that 
 seemed heavier than a mountain. They then lifted him 
 up, and bore him away through the air for hundreds of 
 miles, amid regions of utter darkness ; but on his repeat- 
 ing the name of Jesus three tunes, they brought him back, 
 and laid him down in an insensible state at the door of 
 Chapelhope. 
 
 The feelings depicted in the features of the audi- 
 tors were widely different on the close of this wonderful 
 relation. The beauteous Katharine appeared full of 
 anxious and woful concern, but no marks of fear appear- 
 ed in her lovely face. The servants trembled every limb, 
 and declared with one voice, that no man about Chapel- 
 hope was now sure of his life for a moment, and that 
 nothing less than double wages should induce them to 
 remain there another day. The goodwife lifted up her 
 
30 THE BROWNIE 
 
 eyes to Heaven, and cried, " O the vails ! the vails ! 
 the vails are poured, and to pour !" 
 
 Walter pretended to laugh at the whole narration ; but 
 when he did, it was with an altered countenance, for he 
 observed, what none of them did, that Kennedy had in- 
 deed been borne through the air by some means or 
 other ; for his shoes were all covered with moss, which, 
 if he had walked, could not have been there, for the 
 grass would have washed it off from whatever quarter he 
 had come. 
 
 Kennedy remained several days about Chapelhope in 
 a thoughtful, half delirious frame ; but no entreaties 
 could prevail with him at that time to accompany the men 
 of the place to where he supposed the accident had hap- 
 pened, nor yet to give them any account where it was 
 situated, for he averred that he heard a voice say to him 
 in a solemn tone, " If you wish to live long, never tell 
 what you have seen to-night, nor ever come this way 
 again." Happy had it been for him had he attended all 
 along to this injunction. He slipped away from Chapel- 
 hope in a few days, and was no more seen until the 
 time that Copland and his men appeared there. It was 
 he who came as guide to the soldiers that were slain, and 
 he fell with them in the strait linn of the South Grain of 
 Chapelhope. 
 
 These mysterious and unaccountable incidents by de- 
 grees impressed the minds of the inhabitants with terror 
 that cannot be described ; no woman or boy would go 
 out of doors after sunset, on any account whatever, and 
 there was scarcely a man who durst venture forth alone 
 after the fall of evening. If they could have been sure 
 that brownies and fairies had only power to assume the 
 human shape, they would not have been nearly in such 
 peril and perplexity ; but there was no form of any thing- 
 animate or inanimate, save that of a lamb, that they were 
 sure of; they were of course waylaid at every turn, and 
 kept in continual agitation. An owl was a most danger- 
 ous and suspicious-looking fellow a white glede made 
 them quake, and keep a sharp look-out upon his 
 
OF BODSBECK. 31 
 
 in the air a hare, with her large intelligent eyes and 
 equivocal way of walking, was an object of general dis- 
 trust and a cat, squalling after dark, was the devil. 
 Many were the ludicrous scenes that occurred, among 
 which I cannot help mentioning those which follow, as 
 being particularly whimsical. 
 
 Jasper, son to old John of the Muchrah, was the swift- 
 est runner of his time ; but of all those whose minds 
 were kept in continual agitation on account of the late 
 inundation of spirits into the country, Jasper was the 
 chief. He was beset by them morning and evening ; 
 and even at high noon, if the day was dark, he never 
 considered himself as quite safe. He depended entirely 
 upon his speed in running to avoid their hellish inter- 
 course ; he essayed no other means and many wonder- 
 ful escapes he effected by this species of exertion alone. 
 He was wont to knit stockings while tending his flock 
 on the mountains ; and happening to drop some yarn 
 one evening, it trailed after him in a long ravelled coil 
 along the sward. It was a little after the sun had gone 
 down that Jasper was coming whistling and singing over 
 the shoulder of the Hermon-Law, when, chancing to cast 
 a casual glance behind him, he espied something in shape 
 of a horrible serpent, with an unequal body, and an enor- 
 mous length of tail, coming stealing along the bent after 
 him. His heart leapt to his mouth, (as he expressed it,) 
 and his hair bristled so that it thrust the bonnet from his 
 head. He knew that no such monster inhabited these 
 mountains, and it momently occurred to him that it was 
 the Brownie of Bodsbeck come to seize him in that most 
 questionable shape. He betook him to his old means of 
 safety in great, haste, never doubting that he was well 
 qualified to run from any object that crawled on the 
 ground with its belly ; but, after running a considerable 
 way, he perceived his adversary coming at full stretch 
 along the hill after him. His speed was redoubled ; and, 
 as he noted now and then that his inveterate pursuer' 
 gained no ground on him, his exertion was beyond that 
 of man. There were two shepherds on an opposite hill 
 
32 THE BROWNIE 
 
 who saw Jasper running without the plaid and the bonnet, 
 and with a swiftness which they described as quite incon- 
 ceivable. The cause set conjecture at defiance ; but they 
 remarked, that though he grew more and more spent, 
 whenever he glanced behind he exerted himself anew, 
 and strained a little harder. He continued his perseve- 
 rance to the last, as any man would do who was running 
 for bare life, until he came to a brook called the Ker 
 Cleuch, in the crossing of which he fell down exhausted ; 
 he turned on his back to essay a last defence, and, to his 
 joyful astonishment, perceived that the serpent likewise 
 lay still and did not move. The truth was then discover- 
 ed ; but many suspected that Jasper never overcame that 
 heat and that fright as long as he lived. 
 
 Jasper, among many encounters with the fairies and 
 brownies, had another that terminated in a manner not 
 quite so pleasant. The Brownie of Bodsbeck, or the 
 Queen of the Fairies, (he was not sure which of them it 
 was,) came to him one night as he was lying alone, and 
 wide awake, as he conceived, and proffered him many 
 fine things, and wealth and honours in abundance, if he 
 would go along to a very fine country, which Jasper con- 
 jectured must have been Fairyland. He resisted all 
 these tempting offers in the most decided manner, until 
 at length the countenance of his visitant changed from the 
 most placid and bewitching beauty to that of a fiend. 
 The horrible form grappled with him, laid hold of both 
 his wrists, and began to drag him off by force ; but he 
 struggled with all the energy of a man in despair, and at 
 length, by a violent exertion, he disengaged his right 
 hand. The enemy still continuing, however, to haul him 
 off with the other, he was obliged to have recourse to a 
 desperate expedient. Although quite naked, he reached 
 his clothes with the one hand and drew his knife ; but, 
 in endeavouring to cut off those fingers which held his 
 wrist so immovably fast, he fairly severed the thumb from 
 his own left hand. 
 
 This was the very way that Jasper told the story to his 
 dying day, denying stoutly that he was in a dream ; and, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 33 
 
 singular as it may appear, I can vouch for the truth of it. 
 Jasper Hoy died at Gattonside at a good old age, in the 
 year 1739 ; and they are yet alive who have heard him 
 tell those stories, and seen him without the thumb of the 
 left hand. 
 
 Things went on in this distracted and doubtful manner 
 until the time when Walter is first introduced. On that 
 day, at the meeting place, he found no fewer than 130 of 
 the poor wanderers, many of them assembled to see him 
 for the last time, and take an affectionate leave of him ; for 
 they had previously resolved to part, and scatter them- 
 selves again over the west country, even though certain 
 death awaited them, as they could not in conscience 
 longer remain to be the utter ruin of one who was so 
 generous and friendly to them. They saw, that not only 
 would his whole stock be wasted, but he would himself 
 be subjected to confiscation of goods, and imprisonment, 
 if to nothing worse. Walter said, the case seemed hard 
 either way ; but he had been thinking, that perhaps, if 
 they remained quiet and inoffensive in that seclusion, the 
 violence of the government might in a little relax, and 
 they might then retire to their respective homes in peace. 
 Walter soon heard with vexation that they made con- 
 science of not living in peace, but of proclaiming aloud to 
 the world the grievous wrongs and oppression that the 
 church of Christ in Scotland laboured under. The doc- 
 tor chap, as Walter always called him, illustrated at great 
 length the sin that would lie to their charge, should they 
 remain quiet and passive in a time like that, when the 
 church's all was at stake in these realms. " We are but 
 a remnant," added he, " a poor despised remnant ; but if 
 none stand up for the truth of the reformed religion, how 
 are ever our liberties, civil or ecclesiastical, to be obtain- 
 ed ? There are many who think with us, and who feel 
 with us, who yet have not the courage to stand up for 
 the truth ; but the time must ere long come, when the 
 kingdoms of the land will join in supporting a reforma- 
 tion, for the iniquity of the Amorite is wearing to the 
 full." 
 
34 THE BROWNIE 
 
 Walter did not much like disputing about these mat- 
 ters ; but in this he felt that his reason acquiesced, and 
 he answered thus : "Ye speak like a true man, and a 
 clever man, Doctor , and if I had a desperate cause by 
 the end, and wanted ane to back me in't, the deil a step 
 wad I gang ayont this moss hag to find him ; but, Doc- 
 tor, there's a tune for every thing. I wadna hae ye to 
 fling away a gude cause, as I wad do a rotten ewe, that 
 winna haud ony langer. But dinna ye think that a fitter 
 time may come to mak a push ? ye'll maybe sell mae pre- 
 cious lives for nae end, wi' your declarations ; take care 
 that you, and the like o' you, haena these lives to answer 
 for. I like nae desperate broostles od, man, it's like 
 ane that's just gaun to turn divour, taking on a' the debt 
 he can." 
 
 " Dinna fear, gudeman ! dinna fear ! There's nae 
 blood shed in sic a cause that can ever be shed in vain. 
 Na, na ! that blood will argue better at the bar o' Heaven 
 for poor distressed Scotland than all the prayers of all the 
 living. We hae done muckle, but we'll do mair yet 
 muckle blood has been wantonly and diabolically shed, 
 and our's may rin wi' the rest we'll no throw't wantonly 
 and exultingly away ; but, when our day comes, we'll 
 gie it cheerfully as cheerfully, gudeman, as ever ye 
 paid your mail to a kind landlord, even though the season 
 had been hard and stormy. We had aince enough of 
 this warld's wealth, and to spare ; but we hae naething 
 now but our blood, and we'll part wi' that &*, cheerfully 
 as the rest. And it will tell some day ! and ye may live 
 to see it yet. But enough, gudeman ; we have all re- 
 solved, that, whatever the consequence may be, to live 
 no more on your bounty therefore, do not urge it but 
 give us all your hand Farewell ! and may God bless 
 you in all your actings and undertakings ! There is lit- 
 tle chance that we shall ever meet again We have no 
 reward to give but our blessing and good wishes ; but, 
 whenever a knee here present is bowed at the footstool 
 of grace, you will be remembered." 
 
 Walter could not bear thus to part with them, and to 
 
OF BODSBECK. 35 
 
 give them up as it were to certain destruction. He argued 
 as well as he could on the imprudence of the step they 
 were going to take of the impossibility of their finding 
 a retreat so inaccessible in all the bounds of the south of 
 Scotland, and the prospect that there was of the perse- 
 cution soon relaxing. But when he had said all that he 
 could say, a thin spare old man, with grey dishevelled 
 locks, and looks, Walter said, as stern as the adders, that 
 he had lately been eating, rose up to address him. There 
 was that in his manner which commanded the most in- 
 tense attention. 
 
 " Dost thou talk of our rulers relaxing?" said he. 
 " Blind and mistaken man ! thou dost not know them. 
 No ; they will never relax till their blood shall be mixed 
 with their sacrifices. That insatiate, gloomy, papistical 
 tyrant and usurper, the Duke of York, and his commis- 
 sioner, have issued laws and regulations more extermi- 
 nating than ever. But yesterday we received the woeful 
 intelligence, that, within these eight days, one hundred 
 and fifty of our brethren have suffered by death or banish- 
 ment, and nearly one-half of these have been murdered, 
 even without the sham formality of trial or impeachment, 
 nor had they intimation of the fate that awaited them. 
 York hath said in full assembly, ' that neither the realm 
 nor the mother church can ever be safe, until the south of 
 Scotland is again made a hunting forest ;' and his com- 
 missioner hath sworn by the living God, that never a 
 whig shall again have time or warning to prepare for Hea- 
 ven, and that hell is too good for them. Can we hope 
 for these men relaxing ? No ! The detestable and bloody 
 Clavers, that wizard ! that eater of toads ! that locust of 
 the infernal pit, hems us in closer and closer on one side, 
 and that Muscovite beast on the other ! They thirst for 
 our blood ; and our death and tortures are to them matter 
 of great sport and amusement. My name is Mackail ! 
 I had two brave and beautiful sons, and I had but two ; 
 one of these had his brains shot out on the moss of Mony- 
 hive without a question, charge, or reply. I gathered 
 up his brains and shattered skull with these hands, tied 
 
36 THE BllOWNIH 
 
 them in my own napkin, and buried him alone, for no 
 one durst assist me. His murderers stood by and mock- 
 ed me, cursed me for a dog, and swore if I howled any 
 more that they would send me after him. My eldest 
 son, my beloved Hew, was hung like a dog at the Mar- 
 ket-cross of Edinburgh. I conversed with him, I prayed 
 with him in prison, kissed him, and bade him farewell on 
 the scaffold ! My brave, my generous, my beautiful son ! 
 I tell thee, man, thou who preachest up peace and for- 
 bearance with tyrants, should ever the profligate Charles, 
 or his diabolical brother should ever the murderer Cla- 
 vers, or any of his hell-hounds of the north, dare set foot 
 in Heaven, one look from the calm benignant face of my 
 martyred son would drive them out howling !" 
 
 All this time the old man shed not a tear ; his voice 
 was wildly solemn, but his looks were mixed with mad- 
 ness. He had up his hand to swear, to pray, or to pro- 
 phesy, Walter knew not which, but he was restrained 
 by his associates, and led aside, so that Walter saw no 
 more of him ; but he said he could not get him out of 
 his mind for many a day, for sic another desperate auld 
 body he had never seen. 
 
 These harangues took up much of the time that they 
 had to spare, but ere they parted Walter persuaded them, 
 probably by his strong homely reasoning, to remain 
 where they were. He said, since they persisted in re- 
 fusing to take more of his flock, there was an extensive 
 common beyond the height, called Gemsope, which had 
 been a royal forest, where many gentlemen and wealthy 
 farmers had sheep that fed promiscuously ; and consid- 
 ering their necessitous circumstances, he thought it no 
 evil, and he advised them to go and take from that glen 
 as many as would serve to support nature for a time ; 
 that for his part he had many a good wedder and din- 
 mont there, and was willing to run his risk, which would 
 then fall equal on a number, and only on such as were 
 rich and could well bear it. In this plan, after some 
 scruples which were overborne by the majority, they at 
 length fully and thankfully acquiesced. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 37 
 
 That same day, on his way homeward, Walter heard 
 the wonderful relation of the apparition of his beloved 
 daughter in the 'Hope at midnight; he learned that 
 Clavers would be there in a few days, and he had sent 
 above 100 men to steal sheep all these things made him 
 thoughtful and uneasy after he had reached his home, 
 wet and fatigued." It will be a bloody night in Gem- 
 sope this," he said, sighing, not recollecting what he said 
 or to whom he said it. He could trust his wife with any 
 of his family concerns, but as long as she continued to 
 be so much influenced by the curate Clerk, the sworn 
 enemy of his poor persecuted flock, he durst not give her 
 a hint of their retreat. 
 
 Walter became still more and more perplexed from all 
 that he heard from his wife, as well as from every one 
 else he found that, in truth, there was some mysterious 
 thing about his house the whole family seemed con- 
 vinced of it there were many things seen, heard, and 
 done there that he could in nowise account for in a ra- 
 tional way, and though he resisted the general belief for 
 a good while, that the house was haunted, circumstances 
 at length obliged him to yield to the torrent, and he be- 
 lieved as faithfully in the Brownie of Bodsbeck as any of 
 them all. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 THE house which Walter occupied was on the very 
 spot where a remnant of an old house still stands about 
 a bow-shot above the new elegant farm-house of Chapel- 
 hope, but it was twice as long; indeed, a part of the 
 house that is still standing, or was lately so, is the very 
 one that was built for Laidlaw when he first entered 
 that large farm. There was likewise an outshot from the 
 back of the house, called the Old Room, which had a 
 
 I. D 
 
38 THE BROWNIE 
 
 door that entered from without, as well as one from the 
 parlour within. The end of this apartment stood close 
 to the bottom of the steep bank behind the house, which 
 was then thickly wooded, as was the whole of the long 
 bank behind, so that, consequently, any one, with a little 
 caution, might easily have gone out or come in there, 
 without being seen by any of the family. It contained 
 a bed, in which any casual vagrant, or itinerant pedler 
 slept, besides a great deal of lumber ; and as few enter- 
 ed there, it had altogether a damp, mouldy, dismal ap- 
 pearance. There was likewise a dark closet in one 
 corner of it, with an old rusty lock, which none of the 
 family had ever seen opened. 
 
 The most part of the family soon grew suspicious of 
 this place. Sounds, either real or imaginary, were heard 
 issuing from it, and it was carefully shunned by them 
 all. Walter had always, as I said, mocked at the idea 
 of the Old Room being haunted, until that very night 
 when we began with him, and where, after many round- 
 abouts, we have now found him again. 
 
 It will be recollected that the conversation between 
 Walter and his wife, which is narrated in the first chapter 
 of this book, terminated with a charge from him never 
 more to mention the mysterious story relating to their 
 daughter and these five men that were destroyed. After 
 this she retired about some housewife business, and left 
 Walter by himself to muse on what he had seen and heard. 
 He was sitting musing, and that deeply, on the strange 
 apparition of his daughter that old John had seen, when 
 he thought he heard something behind him making a 
 sound as if it growled inwardly. He looked around and 
 saw that it was his dog Reaver, who was always an in- 
 mate of every place that his master entered; he was 
 standing in an attitude of rage, but at the same time there 
 was a mixture of wild terror in his appearance His 
 eyes, that gleamed like red burning coals, were pointed 
 directly to the door that opened from the corner of the 
 parlour into the Old Room. Walter was astonished, for 
 he well knew his acuteness, but he kept his eyes on him, 
 
OF BODSBECK &J 
 
 and said not a word. The dog went forward with a move- 
 ment scarce perceptible, until he came close to the door, 
 but on putting his nose and ear to the bottom of it, he 
 burst out with such a bay and howl as were truly fright- 
 ful, and ran about the apartment as if mad, trying to break 
 through the walls and window boards. Walter was fairly 
 overcome ; there is nothing frightens a shepherd so much 
 as the seeing of his dog frightened. The shepherd's dog 
 of the true breed will boldly attack any animal on earth 
 in defence of his master, or at his command ; and it is no 
 good sign indeed when he appears terrified, for the shep- 
 herd well knows that his dog can discover spirits by the 
 savour of the wind, when he himself is all unconscious 
 that any such beings are near. 
 
 Walter fled into the kitchen with precipitation he 
 found all the family standing in alarm, for they had heard 
 the hideous uproar in the room. 
 
 " What's the matter ?" said half-a-dozen at once. 
 
 " What's the matter!" said Walter, churlishly " no- 
 thing at all is the matter tell me who of you were in 
 the Old Room, and what you were seeking there?" 
 
 No none of them had been in the Old Room the 
 whole of the family were present, nor had one of them 
 been away. 
 
 Walter's countenance changed he fixed his eyes on 
 the ground for the space of a minute. 
 
 " Then I am sure,'* said he, emphatically, "something 
 worse is there.'' 
 
 A breathless silence ensued ; save that some groans 
 and muttered prayers issued from the lips of the good- 
 wife, who sat in a posture of deep humility, with her 
 brow leaning on both hands. 
 
 " Some of you go and see," added Walter, " what it 
 is that is in the Old Room." 
 
 Every eye in the house turned on another, but no one 
 spoke or offered to move. At length Katharine, who 
 seemed in great anxiety lest any of them should have had 
 the courage to go, went lightly up to her father, and said, 
 " I will go, sir, if you please." 
 
40 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " Do, my dear, and let some of the men go with you.** 
 
 " No, sir ; none of the men shall go with me." 
 
 " Well then, Keatie, make haste ; light a candle, and 
 I will go with you myself." 
 
 No with your leave, father, if I go, I go alone ; 
 no one shall go with me." 
 
 " And why, my love, may not I, your father, accom- 
 pany you? 
 
 " Because, should you go with me into the Old Room 
 just now, perhaps you might never be yourself again." 
 
 Here the goodwife uttered a smothered scream, and 
 muttered some inarticulate ejaculations, appearing so much 
 affected, that her daughter, dreading she would fall into 
 a fit, flew to support her ; but on this she grew ten times 
 worse, screaming aloud, " Avoid thee, Satan ! avoid thee, 
 Satan ! avoid thee, imp of darkness and despair ! avoid 
 thee, avoid thee !" And she laid about her violently with 
 both hands. The servants, taking it for granted that she 
 was bewitched, or possessed, fled aloof ; but Walter, who 
 knew better how matters stood with her mind than they, 
 ran across the floor to her in such haste and agitation, 
 lhat they supposed he was going to give her strength of 
 arm, (his great expedient when hardly cgntroled,) but 
 in place of that, he lifted her gently in his arms, and 
 carried her to her bed, in the further end of the house. 
 
 He then tried to soothe her by every means in his 
 power ; but she continued in violent agitation, sighing, 
 weeping, and praying alternately, until she wrought her- 
 self into a high nervous fever. Walter, growing alarmed 
 for her reason, which seemed verging to a dangerous 
 precipice, kept close by her bedside. A little before 
 midnight she grew calm ; and he, thinking she had fallen 
 asleep, left her for a short time. Unfortunately, her 
 daughter, drawn toward her by filial regard and affection, 
 softly then entered the room. Maron Linton was not 
 so sound asleep as was supposed ; she instantly beheld 
 the approach of that now dreaded sorceress, and sitting 
 up in her bed, she screamed as loud as she was able. 
 Katharine, moved by a natural impulse, hasted forward 
 
OF BODSBECK. 41 
 
 to the couch to calm her parent ; but the frenzied matron 
 sprung from her bed, threw up the window, and endea- 
 voured to escape ; Katharine flew after her, and seized 
 her by the waist. When Maron found that she was 
 fairly in her grasp at such an hour, and no help at hand, 
 she deemed all over with her, both body and soul ; which 
 certainly was a case extreme enough. She hung by the 
 sash of the window, struggled, and yelled out, " Murder ! 
 murder ! murder ! O Lord ! O Lord ! save ! save ! 
 save ! save ! Murder ! murder !" &c. At length Walter 
 rushed in and seized her, ordering his weeping daughter 
 instantly to bed. 
 
 Maron thanked heaven for this wonderful and timely 
 deliverance, and persuaded now that Providence had a 
 special and peculiar charge over her, she became more 
 calm than she had been since the first alarm ; but it was 
 a dreadful certainty that she now possessed, that unearth- 
 ly beings inhabited the mansion along with her, and that 
 her daughter was one of the number, or in conjunction 
 with them. She spent the night in prayer, and so fer- 
 vent was she in her devotions, that she seemed at length 
 to rest in the hope of their final accomplishment. She did 
 not fail, however, to hint to Walter that something de- 
 cisive ought to be done to their daughter. She did not 
 actually say that she should be burnt alive at a stake, but 
 she spake of the trial by fire or that it might be better 
 to throw her into the lake, to make the experiment whe- 
 ther she would drown or not ; for she well expected, in 
 her own mind, that when the creature found itself in such 
 circumstances, it would fly oft with an eldritch laugh and 
 some unintelligible saying to its own clime ; but she was 
 at length persuaded by her husband to intrust the whole 
 matter to her reverend monitor, both as to the driving 
 away the herd of Brownies, and the exorcism of her 
 daughter. 
 
 Never was man in such a predicament as Walter now 
 found himself with regard to his family. Katharine had 
 never been a favourite with her mother, who doated on 
 her boys to the detriment of the girl, but to him she was 
 
 D* 
 
42 THE BROWNIE 
 
 all in all. Her demeanour of late completely puzzled 
 him The words that she had said to him the preceding 
 evening had no appearance of jocularity ; besides, seri- 
 ousness and truth formed her natural character, and she 
 had of late become more reserved and thoughtful than 
 she had ever been before. 
 
 The bed that she slept in faced into the parlour before 
 mentioned ; that which Walter and his spouse occupied 
 entered from another apartment their backs, however, 
 were only separated by a thin wooden partition. Walter 
 kept awake all that night, thoughtful, and listening to 
 every sound. Every thing remained quiet till about the 
 second crowing of the cock ; he then heard something 
 that scratched like a rat, but more regularly, and in more 
 distinct time. After the noise had been repeated three 
 times at considerable intervals, he thought he heard his 
 daughter rising from her bed with extraordinary softness 
 and caution ; He laid his ear to a seam, and distinctly 
 heard the sound of words uttered in a whisper, but of 
 their import he could make nothing. He then heard his 
 daughter return to her bed with the same caution that 
 she left it, utter some sighs, and fall sound asleep. 
 
 After serious deliberation, Walter thought his best ex- 
 pedient was to remove his daughter from home for some 
 time ; and next morning he proposed to her to go and 
 spend a week or two with her maternal uncle, Thomas 
 Linton, farmer at Gilmanscleuch. To this she objected 
 on several pretences ; but at length, when urged to it, 
 positively refused to leave her father's house at that time. 
 He never in his life could say a harsh word to her, but 
 that day he appeared chagrined, and bade her, with some 
 asperity, keep away from her mother's presence, as her 
 malady, which was a nervous complaint, required the ut- 
 most quietness. This she promised with her accustomed 
 cheerfulness, and they parted. During the day she was 
 absent for several hours, none knowing whither she went, 
 or by what way she returned. 
 
 On the same day, the servants, who had spent a sleep- 
 less night, packed up bag and baggage, and went off in a 
 
OF BODSBECK. 43 
 
 body, all save one elderly woman, who had lately come 
 to the house, and was a stranger to them all. Her name, 
 she said, was 1 Agnes Alexander, but she was better 
 known by the familiar one of Nanny Elshinder ; her for- 
 mer history and connections were doubtful, but she was 
 of a cheerful complaisant temper, and always performed 
 what she was ordered to do without any remarks. Walter 
 had hired her at Moffat, in the fair called The Third 
 Friday ; and told Maron when he came home, that "he 
 had hired a wastlin auldish quean, wha, he believed, was 
 a wee crackit i' the head, but, poor thing, she wasna like 
 to get a place, and was sic a good soul he coudna think 
 to leave her destitute ; and whanever he begoud to par- 
 ley wi' her, od, she brought him to the neb o' the mire- 
 snipe directly." Saving this good woman, all the house 
 servants, man, woman, and boy, deserted their service, 
 and neither promises nor threats could induce them to 
 stay another night about the town. They said, "they 
 might as weel bide i' hell ; they wad gang afore Gibby 
 Moray, the king's shirra, whanever he likit, about it ; or, 
 gin he buid rather hae brawer burly men, they wad meet 
 him face to face in the Parliament Close." 
 
 Walter was now obliged to bring Jasper, his young 
 shepherd, down from the Muchrah, to assist him in the 
 labour of the farm the most unfit man in the world for 
 a haunted house. He knew that the Old Room was fre- 
 quented by his old adversary, the Brownie of Bodsbeck. 
 He likewise knew that his young mistress was a witch, 
 or something worse, for the late servants had told him, 
 so that he had now a dangerous part to act. Neverthe- 
 less, he came determined to take the bull by the horns : for 
 as he and his father had stocks of sheep upon the farm, 
 they could not leave their master, and he was never wont 
 to disobey him. He had one sole dependance his swift- 
 ness of foot that had never yet failed him in eschewing 
 evil spirits, save in the solitary instance of the serpent. 
 
 On the first day of his noviceship as a labourer, he 
 and his master were putting some ropes on the dwelling- 
 house, to keep on the thatch. Jasper wanting something 
 
44 THE BROWNIE 
 
 whereon to stand, for that purpose, and being within a 
 few yards of the door of the Old Room, and knowing 
 that the tubs stood there, thoughtlessly dashed into it to 
 bring out one to stand on ; but he had not taken two 
 steps within the door till he beheld a human face, and 
 nothing but a face and a head, looking deliberately at 
 him. One would have thought that such a man, seeing 
 such a sight, would have cried out, fled to his master on 
 the other side of the house, or into the kitchen to old 
 Nanny. Jasper did none of them all. He turned round 
 with such velocity that he fell hasted out at the door 
 on all fours, and took to the Papper-hill like a wild deer, 
 praying fervently all the way. His master saw him from 
 the ladder where he stood, and called aloud after him, 
 but he deigned not to heed or look behind him the 
 head without the body, and that at an ordinary distance 
 from the ground, was alone impressed on his mind, and 
 refused a share to any other consideration. He came 
 not back to the Chapelhope that night. 
 
 Katharine, the young and comely friend of the Brownie, 
 having discovered that Jasper had been introduced to her 
 familiar, and knowing his truth and simplicity of heart, 
 earnestly desired to sound him on the subject. She knew 
 he would return to assist her father and brothers with 
 the farm labour, in their present strait, by a certain hour 
 next morning, and she waited on him by the way. He 
 came accordingly ; but he knew her and her connections 
 better than she imagined. He tried to avoid her, first 
 by going down into the meadow, then by climbing the 
 hill ; but seeing that she waylaid him both ways, and sus- 
 pecting her intentions to be of the very worst nature, he 
 betook him to his old expedient fled with precipitation, 
 and returned to the Muchrah. 
 
 Katharine could by no means comprehend this, and 
 was particularly concerned about it at this time, as she 
 had something she wished to reveal to him. Walter 
 appeared gloomy and discontented all that day. The corn 
 was ripe, but not a sheaf of it cut down ; the hay was 
 still standing on the meadow, the lint was to pull, the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 45 
 
 potatoes to raise, the tar to bring home, and the sheep to 
 smear ; and there was no one left to do all this but he 
 and his two boys. The gudewife, who used to bustle 
 about and do much household work, was confined to her 
 room. His daughter's character, her demeanour, and 
 even her humanity, were become somewhat doubtful. 
 Walter was truly in what he termed a pickled primineary. 
 
 Katharine, being still debarred all access to her mother, 
 began to dread that she would be obliged to leave her 
 father's house ; and, in case of a last extremity, she be- 
 thought her of sounding the disposition of old Nanny. 
 She was a character not easily to be comprehended. She 
 spoke much to herself, but little to any other person 
 worked so hard that she seldom looked up, and all the 
 while sung scraps of old songs and ballads, the import of 
 which it was impossible to understand ; but she often 
 chanted these with a pathos that seemed to flow from 
 the heart, and that never failed to affect the hearer. She 
 wore a russet worsted gown, clouted shoes, and a quoif, 
 or mutch, upon her head, that was crimped and plaited so 
 close around her face that very little of the latter was 
 visible. In this guise was Nanny, toiling hard and sing- 
 ing her mournful ditty, when Katharine came in and 
 placed herself on a seat by her side. 
 
 " Nanny, this seems to be more than ordinary a busy 
 day with you ; pray, what is all this baking and boiling 
 for ?" 
 
 " Dear bairn, dear bairn, what do I ken the like o' 
 me maun do as we're bidden guests are coming, my 
 bairn O, ay there's mony a braw an' bonny lad coming 
 this way mony a ane that will gaur a young thing's e'en 
 stand i' back water 
 
 " They are coming ! they are coming- ! 
 
 Alak! an* wae's me ! 
 Though the sword be in the hand, 
 
 Yet the tear's in the e*e. 
 I look to yon mountain, 
 
 And I look to yon muir, 
 For the shield that they trust in 
 
 Is mighty and sure. 
 
46 THE BROWNIE 
 
 Is there blood in the moorlands 
 
 Where the wild burnies rin ? 
 Or what gars the water 
 
 Wind reid down the lin ? 
 O billy, dear billy, 
 
 Your boding let be, 
 For it's nought but the reid lift 
 
 That dazzles your e'e. 
 
 For I ken by yon bright beam, 
 
 That follows the sun, 
 That our Covenant heroes 
 
 The battle shall won. 
 Then away with your bodings 
 
 Of sorrow and scorn, 
 For the windows of heaven 
 
 Stand open this mom. 
 
 Let them rear their proud standard 
 
 Of vengeance and wrath, 
 And pour on their columns 
 
 Of darkness and death, 
 Yet around our poor number 
 
 Stand hosts in array, 
 Unseen by our foemen, 
 
 But stronger than they." 
 
 " Prithee go on, Nanny ; let me hear what it was that 
 reddened the water T 
 
 " Dear bairn, wha kens ; some auld thing an' out o' 
 date ; but yet it is sae like the days that we hae seen, ane 
 wad think the poeter that made it had the second sight. 
 Mony a water as weel as the Clyde has run reid wi' blude, 
 an 7 that no sae lang sin' syne ! ay, an' the wild burnies 
 too ! I hae seen them mysel leave a reid strip on the 
 sand an' the grey stanes but the hoody craw durstna pick 
 there ! Dear bairn, has the Chapelhope burn itsell never 
 had the hue ?" 
 
 Here Katharine's glance and Nanny's met each other, 
 but were as quickly withdrawn, for they dreaded one 
 another's converse ; but they were soon relieved from 
 that dilemma by Nanny's melancholy chime 
 
 " In yon green houm there sat a knight, 
 
 An 1 the book lay open on his knee, 
 An' he laid his hana on his rusty sword, 
 
 An 1 turned to Heaven his watery e'e. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 47 
 
 But in yon houm there is a kirk, 
 
 An' in that kirk there is a pew, 
 An' in that pew there sat a king-, 
 
 Wha sign'd the deed we maun ever rue. 
 
 He wasna king o' fair Scotland, 
 Though king 0' Scotland he should hae been, 
 
 And he lookit north to the land he loved, 
 But aye the green leaves fell atween. 
 
 The green leaves fell, an' the river swell'd, 
 
 An' the brigg was guardit to the key ; 
 O* ever alak ! said Hamilton, 
 
 That sic a day I should ever see ! 
 
 As ever ye saw the rain down fa', 
 
 Or yet the arrow gae from the bow, 
 Our Scottish lads fell even down, 
 
 And they lay slain on every knowe. 
 
 As ever ye saw the drifting snaw, 
 
 Drive o'er the ripe flower on the lea, 
 Our Scottish lads fell even down, 
 
 An' wae to Scotland an' to me." 
 
 " No, that's not it my memory is gane wi* my last 
 warldly hope Hech ! dear bairn, but it is a sad warld to 
 live in, without hope or love for ony that's in't I had 
 aye some hope till now ! but sic a dream as I had last 
 night ! I saw him aince again Yes, I saw him bodily, 
 or may I never steer aff this bit." Here Nanny sobbed 
 hard, and drew her arms across her eyes. " Come, 
 come," continued she, " gie me a bit sang, dear bairn, 
 an' let it be an auld thing they do ane's heart gude thae 
 bits o' auld sangs.'' 
 
 " Rather tell me, Nanny for we live in ignorance in 
 this wild place what you think of all that blude that has 
 been shed in our country since the killing-time began ? 
 Do you think it has been lawfully and rightfully shed ?" 
 
 " Wha doubts it, dear bairn ? Wha doubts that ? 
 But it will soon be ower now the traitors will soon be 
 a' strappit and strung ay, ay the last o' them will soon 
 be hackit and hewed, an' his bloody head stannin ower 
 the Wast Port an' there will be braw days than we'll 
 be a' right than." 
 
48 THE BROWNIE 
 
 Katharine sat silent and thoughtful, eyeing old Nanny 
 with fixed attention ; but the expression of her contracted 
 face and wild unstable eye was unsatisfactory. She 
 therefore, with a desponding mien, went out, and left the 
 crazy dame to discourse and sing to herself. Nanny 
 ceased her baking, stood upright, and listened to the 
 maid's departing steps, till she concluded her to be out of 
 hearing ; she then sung out, in what is now termed the 
 true bravura style, 
 
 " Then shall the black gown flap 
 
 O'er desk and true man ; 
 Then shall the horny cap 
 
 Shine like the new moon ; 
 An' the kist fu' o' whistles 
 
 That maks sic a cleary, 
 Lool away, bool away, 
 
 Till we grow weary. 
 
 Till we grow weary, &c. 
 
 Charlie, the cypher-man, 
 
 Drink till ye stew dame ; 
 Jamie, the wafer-man, 
 
 Eat till ye spue them ; 
 Lauderdale lick-my-fud, 
 
 Binny and Geordie, 
 Leish away, link away, 
 
 Hell is afore ye. 
 
 Hell is afore ye, &c. 
 
 Graeme will gang ower the brink, 
 
 Down wi' a liaughter ; 
 Lagg an* Drumlandrick 
 
 Will soon follow after ; 
 Johnston and Lilligow, 
 
 Bruce and Macleary, 
 Scowder their harigalds, 
 
 Deils, wi' a bleery, 
 
 Till ye grow weary," &c. 
 
 In the mean time, Katharine, on hearing the loud notes 
 of the song, had returned within the door to listen, and 
 heard the most part of the lines and names distinctly. 
 She had heard it once before, and the singer reported it 
 to be a new song, and the composition of a young man' 
 who had afterwards been executed in the Grass- Market. 
 How Nanny came to sing such a song, with so much 
 
OF BODSBECK. 49 
 
 seeming zest, after the violent prelatic principles which 
 she had so lately avowed, the maid could not well com- 
 prehend, and she began to suspect that there was more 
 in Nanny's mind than had yet been made manifest. 
 Struck with this thought, and ruminating upon it, she 
 continued standing in the same position, and heard Nanny 
 sometimes crooning, and at other times talking rapidly 
 and fervently to herself. After much incoherent matter, 
 lines of psalms, &c. Katharine heard with astonishment 
 the following questions and answers, in which two distinct 
 voices were imitated 
 
 " Were you at the meeting of the traitors at Lanark 
 on the 12th of January ?" 
 
 " I never was amang traitors that I was certain of 
 till this day"- Let them take that ! bloody gruesome 
 
 " Were you at Lanark on that day ?" 
 " If you had been there you would have seen." 
 " Confound the old b ! Burn her with matches 
 squeeze her with pincers as long as there's a whole 
 piece of her together then throw her into prison, and 
 let her lie till she rot the old wrinkled hag! Good 
 woman, I pity you ; you shall yet go free if you will tell 
 us where you last saw Hamilton and your own good- 
 man. " 
 
 " Ye sail hing me up by the tongue first, and cut me 
 a' in collops while I'm hingin." 
 
 " Burn her in the cheek, cut baith her lugs out, and 
 let her gae to h her own way." 
 
 After this strange soliloquy, the speaker sobbed aloud, 
 spoke in a suppressed voice for some time, and then be- 
 gan a strain so sweet and melancholy, that it thrilled the 
 hearer, and made her tremble where she stood. The 
 tune was something like the Broom of Cowdenknows, 
 the sweetest and most plaintive of the ancient Scottish 
 airs ; but it was sung so slow, as to bear with it a kind 
 of solemnity. 
 
50 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " The kye are rowting in the lone, 
 
 The ewes bleat on the brae, 
 O, what can ail my auld gudeman, 
 
 He bides sae lang away ! 
 
 An* aye the Robin sang by the wud, 
 
 An' his note had a waesome fa' j 
 An' the corbie croupit in the clud, 
 
 But he durstna light ava ; 
 
 Till out cam the wee grey moudiwort 
 
 Frae neath the hollow stane, 
 An* it howkit a grave for the auld grey head, 
 
 For the head lay a' its lane ! 
 
 But I will seek out the Robin's nest, 
 
 An' the nest of the ouzel shy, 
 For the siller hair that is beddit there 
 
 Maun wave aboon the sky."* 
 
 * It seems necessary here to premise, that all the songs put into the 
 mouth of Old Nanny, relate to events of that period ; this to a most pain- 
 ful one at which the heart shudders to this day. It is supposed to have 
 been sung by Mrs Finlay of Lathrisk, on finding that her husband did not 
 return from the hill. "As Thomas Dalziel of Binns, was once pursuing some 
 covenanters on the braes above Kilmarnock, being completely baffled by 
 them and in extremely bad humour, he quitted the pursuit, and returned so 
 far on his way, cursing the whigs most dreadfully. While in this querulous 
 humour he came upon Mr John Finlay, tenant of a place called Upper Lath- 
 risk. He was an old man, and though a sincere Christian, was never in any 
 of the risings on account of religion. When Dalziel came upon him, he was 
 setting stakes in the field whereat to milk his cows ; for the place was not 
 at his own house, but at a wild sheiling to which he drove his cows and 
 calves in summer. When Dalziel came down the hill, Fimay was in cus- 
 tody of two soldiers, who said to their general, " Sir, here is an old fellow, 
 who, though he says he has never been up in any rebellion, yet acknow- 
 ledges he has been at several sermons in the fields." 
 
 " Well then," said Dalziel, " that at all events subjects him to banishment." 
 
 " Alas, sir," said Finlay, " it is scarcely worth your while to banish me for 
 all the time I have to live. I am too old for banishment." 
 
 " Then I am sure you are not too old for being hanged," said Dalziel, 
 " or shot either of the two : suppose then we should make the experi- 
 ment on an old hypocritical rebel for once !" And without one further in- 
 terrogatory, he caused him to be tied to one of his own cow-stakes and 
 shot. He then cut off his head, which some of his men kicked away to a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 The judgment of heaven was very visibly executed upon these men ; for, 
 that same evening, as Dalziel was drinking a cup of wine to a profane and 
 blasphemous toast, he fell down and expired. This was on the night of the 
 22d of August, and on the 24th one of the soldiers who seized, accused, and 
 shot the old farmer, died in great terror of mind, exclaiming to the last " O 
 for the life of John Finlay !" Wodrow, vol. ii. p. 63. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 51 
 
 The sentiments of old Nanny appeared now to her 
 young mistress to be more doubtful than ever. Fain 
 would she have interpreted them to be such as she wish- 
 ed, but the path which that young female was now oblig- 
 ed to tread required a circumspection beyond her experi- 
 ence and discernment to preserve, while danger and 
 death awaited the slightest deviation. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 NEXT morning Clavers, with fifty dragoons, arrived at 
 Chapelhope, where they alighted on the green ; and put- 
 ting their horses to forage, he and Sir Thomas Living- 
 ston, Captain Bruce, and Mr Adam Copland, before men- 
 tioned, a gentleman of Clavers' own troop, went straight 
 into the kitchen. Walter was absent at the hill. The 
 goodwife was sitting lonely in the east room, brooding 
 over her trials and woes in this life, and devising means 
 to get rid of her daughter, and with her of all the devour- 
 ing spirits that haunted Chapelhope; consequently the 
 first and only person whom the gentlemen found in the 
 kitchen was old Nanny. Clavers, who entered first, kept a 
 shy and sullen distance, for he never was familiar with any 
 one ; but Bruce, who was a jocular Irish gentleman, and 
 well versed in harassing and inveigling the ignorant coun- 
 try people to their destruction, made two low bows (al- 
 most to the ground) to the astonished dame, and accost- 
 ed her as follows : " How are you to-day, mistress? I 
 hope you are very well ?" 
 
 " Thank ye kindly, sir," said Nanny, curtseying in re- 
 turn; "deed I'm no sae weel as I hae been ; I hae e'en seen 
 better days ; but I keep aye the heart aboon, although 
 the achings and the stitches hae been sair on me the 
 year." 
 
 " Lack-a-day ! I am so very sorry for that ! Where 
 
52 THE BROWNIE 
 
 do they seize you ? about the heart, I suppose ? Oh, 
 dear soul ! to be sure you do not know how sorry I am 
 for your case it must be so terribly bad ! You should 
 have the goodness to consult your physician, and get 
 blood let." 
 
 " Dear bairn, I hae nae blude to spare an' as for doc- 
 tors, I haena muckle to lippen to them. To be sure, 
 they are whiles the means, under providence" 
 
 " Oho !" said he, putting his finger to his nose, and 
 turning to his associates with a wry face, " Oho ! the 
 means under Providence ! a whig, I avow ! Tell me, 
 my dear and beautiful Mistress Stitch-aback, do you really 
 believe in that blessed thing, Providence ?" 
 
 " Do I believe in Providence ! Did ever ony body 
 hear sic a question as that ? Gae away, ye muckle gouk 
 d'ye think to make a fool of a puir body ?" 
 
 So saying, she gave him a hearty slap on the cheek ; 
 at which his companions laughing, Bruce became some- 
 what nettled, and, drawing out his sword, he pointed at 
 the recent stains of blood upon it. " Be so good as to look 
 here, my good lady," said he, " and take very good note 
 of all that I say, and more ; for harkee, you must either 
 renounce Providence, and all that I bid you renounce, 
 and you must, beside that, answer all the questions that 
 I shall ever be after asking, or, do you see, I am a great 
 doctorthis is my very elegant lance and I'll draw the 
 blood that shall soon ease you of all your stitches and 
 pains." 
 
 " I dinna like your fleem ava, man 'tis rather ower 
 grit for an auld body's veins. But ye're surely some silly 
 skemp of a fallow, to draw out your sword on a puir auld 
 woman. Dinna think, howanabee, that I care for outher 
 you or it. Ill let ye see how little I mind ye ; for we el 
 I ken your comrades wadna let ye fash me, e'en though 
 ye were sae silly as to offer. Na, na ; d'ye ever think 
 that little bonny demure-looking lad there wad suffer ye 
 to hurt a woman ? I wat wad he no ! He has mair dis- 
 creation in his little finger than you hae i' your hale 
 bouk. Now try me, master doctor I'll nouther re- 
 
OF BODSBECK. i>3 
 
 nounce ae thing that ye bid me, nor answer ae question 
 that ye speer at me." 
 
 " In the first place, then, my good hearty dame, do 
 you acknowledge or renounce the Covenant ?" 
 
 " Aha ! he's wise wha wats that, an' as daft that 
 speers." 
 
 " Ay, or no, in a moment No juggling with me, old 
 Mrs Skinflint." 
 
 " I'll tell ye what ye do, master if ony body speer at 
 ye, gin auld Nanny i' the Chapelhope renounces the Co- 
 venant, shake your head an' say ye dinna ken." 
 
 " And pray, my very beautiful girl, what do you keep 
 this old tattered book for?" 
 
 " For a fancy to gar fools speer, an' ye're the first 
 Come on now, sir, wi' your catechis Wally-dye man ! 
 gin ye be nae better a fighter than ye're an examiner, ye 
 may gie up the craft." 
 
 Bruce here bit his lip, and looked so stern that Nanny, 
 with a hysterical laugh, ran away from him, and took 
 shelter behind Clavers. 
 
 "You are a fool, Bruce," said he, "and constant- 
 ly blundering. Our business here, mistress, is to dis- 
 cover, if possible, who were the murderers of an hon- 
 est curate, and some of our own soldiers that were slain 
 in this neighbourhood while discharging their duty ; if 
 you can give us any information on that subject, you shall 
 be well rewarded." 
 
 " Ye'll hear about the curate, sir ye'll hear about 
 him he was found out to be a warlock, and shot dead. 
 But ah, dear bairn ! nane alive can gie you informa- 
 tion about the soldiers ! It was nae human hand did 
 that deed, and there was nae e'e out o' heaven saw it 
 done There wasna a man that day in a' the Hope up 
 an' down that deed will never be fund out, unless a 
 spirit rise frae the dead an' tell o't Muckle fear, an' 
 muckle grief it has been the cause o' here ! But tjie 
 men war a' decently buried ; what mair could be done ?" 
 
 " Do you say that my men were all decently buried?" 
 
 " Ay, troth, I wat weel, were they, sir, and wi' the 
 E 2 
 
34 THE BROWNIE 
 
 burial-service too. My master and mistress are strong 
 
 king's folk." 
 
 " So you are not the mistress of this house?" 
 
 " A bonny like mistress I wad be, forsooth Na, na, 
 
 my mistress is sittin be hersel ben the house there." 
 
 With that, Nanny fell a working and singing full loud 
 
 " Little wats she wha's coming, 
 Little wats she wha's coming, 
 Strath and Correy's ta'en the bent, 
 An" Terriden an 1 a's corning ; 
 Knock and Craigen Shaw's coming, 
 Keppoch an' Macraw's coming, 
 Clan-Mackinnon's ower the Kyle, 
 An 1 Donald Gun an' a's coming." 
 
 Anxious now to explore the rest of the house, they 
 left Nanny singing her song, and entered the little par- 
 lour hastily, where finding no one, and dreading that 
 some escape might be effected, Clavers and Livingston 
 burst into the Old Room, and Bruce and Copland into 
 the other. In the Old Room they found the beautiful 
 witch Katharine, with the tram of her snow-white joup 
 drawn over her head, who looked as if taken in some evil 
 act by surprise, and greatly confounded when she saw 
 two gentlemen enter her sanctuary in splendid uni- 
 forms. As they approached, she made a slight curtsey, 
 to which they deigned no return ; but going straight up 
 to her, Clavers seized her by both wrists. " And is it, 
 indeed, true," said he, "my beautiful shepherdess, 
 that we have caught you at your prayers so early this 
 morning ?" 
 
 " And what if you have, sir ?" returned she. 
 
 " Why, nothing at all, save that I earnestly desire, and 
 long exceedingly to join with you in your devotional ex- 
 ercises," laying hold of her in the rudest manner. 
 
 Katharine screamed so loud that in an instant old 
 Nanny was at their side, with revenge gleaming from her 
 half-shaded eyes, and heaving over her shoulder a large 
 green -kale gully, with which she would doubtless have 
 silenced the renowned Dundee for ever, had not Living- 
 
OF BODSBECK. 55 
 
 ston sprung forward with the utmost celerity, and caught 
 her arm just as the stroke was descending. But Nanny did 
 not spare her voice ; she lifted it up with shouts on high, 
 and never suffered one yell to lose hearing of another. 
 
 Walter, having just then returned from the hill, and 
 hearing the hideous uproar in the Old Room, rushed in- 
 to it forthwith to see what was the matter. Katharine was 
 just sinking, when her father entered, within the grasp 
 of the gentle and virtuous Clavers. The backs of both 
 the officers were towards Walter as he came in, and they 
 were so engaged amid bustle and din that neither of them 
 perceived him, until he was close at their backs. He 
 was at least a foot taller than any of them, and nearly as 
 wide round the chest as them both. In one moment his 
 immense ringers grasped both their slender necks, almost 
 meeting behind each of their windpipes. They were ren- 
 dered powerless at once they attempted no more strug- 
 gling with the women, for so completely had Walter's 
 gripes unnerved them, that they could scarcely lift their 
 arms from their sides; neither could they articulate a 
 word, or utter any other sound than a kind of choked 
 gasping for breath. Walter wheeled them about to the 
 light, and looked alternately at each of them, without 
 quitting or even slackening his hold. 
 
 " Gallants, wha ir ye ava ? or what's the mean in' o' 
 a' this unmensefu' rampaging ?" 
 
 Sir Thomas gave his name in a hoarse and broken voice ; 
 but Clavers, whose nape Walter's right hand embraced, 
 and whose rudeness to his daughter had set his mountain 
 blood a-boiling, could not answer a word. Walter, 
 slackening his hold somewhat, waited for an answer, but 
 none coming 
 
 " Wha ir ye, I say, ye bit useless weazel-blawn like 
 urf that ye're ?" 
 
 The haughty and insolent Clavers was stung with rage ; 
 but seeing no immediate redress was to be had, he en- 
 deavoured to pronounce his dreaded name, but it was 
 in a whisper scarcely audible, and stuck in his throat 
 "Jo o o Graham," said he. 
 
56 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " Jock Graham do they ca' ye ? Ye're but an unman- 
 nerly whalp, man. And ye're baith king's officers too ! 
 Weel, I'll tell ye what it is, my denty clever callants ; if 
 it warna for the blood that's i' your master's veins, I wad 
 riite your twa bits o' pows thegither." 
 
 He then threw them from him ; the one the one way, 
 and the other the other, and lifting his huge oak staff, he 
 strode out at the door, saying, as he left them, " Hech ! 
 are free men to be guidit this gate ? I'll step down to the 
 green to your commander, an' tell him what kind o' chaps 
 he keeps about him to send into folk's houses. Dirty 
 unmensefu' things !" 
 
 Clavers soon recovering his breath, and being ready to 
 burst with rage and indignation, fell a cursing and fuming 
 most violently ; but Sir T. Livingston could scarcely re- 
 frain from breaking out into a convulsion of laughter. 
 Clavers had already determined upon ample revenge, for 
 the violation of all the tender ties of nature was his de- 
 light, and wherever there was wealth to be obtained, or 
 a private pique to be revenged, there never was wanting 
 sufficient pretext in those days for cutting off individuals, 
 or whole families, as it suited. On the very day previous 
 to that, the Earl of Traquair had complained, in company 
 with Clavers and his officers, of a tenant of his, in a place 
 called Bold, who would neither cultivate his farm nor give 
 it up. Captain Bruce asked if he prayed in his family ? 
 The Earl answered jocularly, that he believed he did 
 nothing else. Bruce said that was enough ; and the 
 matter passed over without any farther notice. But next 
 morning, Bruce went out with four dragoons, and shot 
 the farmer as he was going out to his work. Instances 
 of this kind are numerous, if either history or tradition can 
 be in aught believed ; but in all the annals of that age, 
 there is scarcely a single instance recorded of any redress 
 having been granted to the harassed country people for 
 injuries received. At this time, the word of Argyle's 
 rising had already spread, and Clavers actually traversed 
 the country more like an exterminating angel, than a 
 commander of a civilized army. 
 
OF BOPSBECK. 57 
 
 Such are the men with whom Walter had to do ; and 
 the worst thing of all, he was not aware of it. He had 
 heard of such things, but he did not believe them ; for 
 he loved his king and country, and there was nothing that 
 vexed him more than hearing of aught to their dispar- 
 agement ; but unluckily his notions of freedom and jus- 
 tice were far above what the subjects of that reign could 
 count upon. 
 
 When Clavers and Livingston entered the Old Room, 
 it will be remembered that Bruce and Copland penetrated 
 into the other. There they found the goodwife of 
 Chapelhope, neatly dressed in her old-fashioned style, and 
 reading on her Bible, an exercise in which she gloried, 
 and of which she was very proud. 
 
 Bruce instantly desired her " to lay that very comely 
 and precious book on the hottest place of all the beautiful 
 fire, that was burning so pleasantly with long crackling 
 peat ; and that then he would converse with her about 
 things that were, to be sure, of far greater and mightier 
 importance." 
 
 " Hout, dear sir, ye ken that's no consistent wi' na- 
 tural reason. Can any thing be o' greater importance than 
 the tidings o' grace an' salvation, an' the joys o' heaven ?" 
 
 " Oho !" cried Bruce, and straddled around the room 
 with his face turned to the joists. " My dear Copland, 
 did you ever hear such a thing in all the days that ever 
 you have to live ? Upon my soul, the old woman is talk- 
 ing of grace, and salvation, and the joys of heaven too, by 
 Saint George and the Dragon. My dearest honey and dar- 
 ling, will you be so kind as stand up upon the soles of 
 your feet, and let me see what kind of a figure you will 
 be in heaven. Now, by the cross of Saint Patrick, I 
 would take a journey there to see you go swimming 
 through heaven in that same form, with your long waist, 
 and plaitted quoif, and that same charming face of yours. 
 Och ! och ! me ! what a vile she whig we have got in this 
 here corner ? Copland, my dear soul, I foresee that all the 
 ewes and kine of Chapelhope will soon be rouped at the 
 cross of Selkirk, and then what blessed lawings we shall 
 
58 THE BROWNIE 
 
 have ! Now my dear mistress Grace and Salvation, you 
 must be after renouncing the joys of heaven immediately; 
 for upon my honour, the very sight of your face would 
 spoil the joys of any place whatever, and the first thing 
 you must do is to lay that delightful old book with the 
 beautiful margin along the side of it, on the coals ; but 
 before you do that we shall sing to his praise and glory 
 from the 7th verse of the 149th psalm." 
 
 He then laid aside his helmet and sung the psalm, 
 giving out each line with a whine that was truly ludi- 
 crous, after which he put the Bible into the goodwife's 
 hand, and desired her, in a serious tone, instantly to lay 
 it on the fire. The captain's speech to his companions 
 about the ewes and kine of Chapelhope was not altogether 
 lost on the conscience of Maron Linton. It was not, as 
 she afterwards said, like water spilt upon the ground, 
 which cannot be gathered up again. " Why, dear sir," 
 said she, " ye ken, after a', that the beuk's naething but 
 paper an' ink, an' three shillings an' aughtpence will buy 
 as gude a ane frae Geordy Dabson, the morn, an' if there 
 be ony sin in't it will lye at your door, an' no at mine. 
 I'll ne'er haigel wi' my king's officer about three and aught- 
 pence. 
 
 So saying, Maron laid the Bible on the fire, which soon 
 consumed it to ashes. 
 
 " Now, may the devil take me,"' said Bruce, "if I do 
 not believe that you are a true woman after all, and if so, 
 my purse is lighter by one half than it was ; but, my dear 
 honey, you have the very individual and genuine seeds 
 of whiggism in your constitution You have, I will swear, 
 been at many a harmless and innocent conventicle." 
 
 " Ye ken little about me, sir. >Gude forbid that ever 
 I countenanced sic traitors to the kirk and state !" 
 
 " Amen ! say I ; but I prophesy and say unto thee, 
 that the first field-meeting into which thou goest in the 
 beauty of holiness, thou shalt be established for ever 
 with thy one foot in Dan and the other in Beersheba, 
 and shalt return to thy respective place of abode as rank 
 a whig as ever swung in the Grass- Market." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 59 
 
 A long dialogue next ensued, in which the murder of 
 the priest, Mass John Bihram, was discussed at full length, 
 and by which Bruce and Copland discerned, that super- 
 stitious as Maron was, she told them what she deemed 
 to be the truth, though in a strange round-about way. 
 Just as they were beginning to talk over the mysterious 
 murder of the soldiers, Claverhouse and Sir Thomas 
 joined them, and Bruce, turning round to them, said, 
 " My lord, this very honest woman assures me, that she 
 believes the two principal murderers of the curate are 
 lying concealed in a linn not far hence, and there seems 
 to be little doubt but that they must likewise have been 
 concerned in the murder of our soldiers." 
 
 Clavers, the horrors of whose execrations are yet fresh 
 in the memory of our peasants, burst out as follows, to 
 the astonishment of Bruce, who was not aware of his cha- 
 grin, or of aught having befallen him. 
 
 " May the devil confound and d n them to hell ! 
 May he make a brander of their ribs to roast their souls 
 on !" 
 
 Maron Linton, hearing herself called a good woman, 
 and finding that she was approven of, could not refrain 
 from interfering here. 
 
 " Dear sir, my lord, ye sudna swear that gate, for it's 
 unco ill-faur'd, ye ken an' at ony rate, the deil canna 
 damn naebody if ye will swear, swear sense." 
 
 The rage of the general, and the simplicity of the good- 
 wife, was such an amusing contrast, that the three attend- 
 ants laughed aloud. Clavers turned his deep grey eye 
 upon them, which more than the eye of any human being 
 resembled that of a serpent offence gleamed in it. 
 
 ** Gentlemen," said he, " do you consider where you 
 are, and what you are about ? Sacre ! am I always to 
 be trysted with boys and fools ?" . 
 
 He then began and examined the goodwife with much 
 feigned deference and civility, which so pleased her that 
 she told him every thing with great readiness. She was 
 just beginning to relate the terrible, but unfortunate story 
 of the Brownie of Bodsbeck, and his train of officious spir- 
 
60 THE BROWNIE 
 
 its ; of the meat which they devoured, and in all proba- 
 bility would have ended the relation with the woeful con- 
 nection between the Brownie and her daughter, and the 
 part that she had taken in the murder of the soldiers, 
 when Walter entered the room with a discomposed mien, 
 and gave a new turn to the conversation. But that event- 
 ful scene must be left to the next chapter. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 WALTER, on coming to the troopers and asking for 
 their leader, soon discovered how roughly he had treated 
 Clavers ; and it being so much the reverse of the recep- 
 tion he meant to have given him, he was particularly 
 vexed about it. Still he was conscious that he had done 
 nothing that was wrong, nor any thing that it did not be- 
 hove a parent and a master of a family to have done in 
 the same circumstances; therefore there was nothing 
 farther from his intention than offering any apology. He 
 entered his own room, as he supposed he had a good 
 right to do, bluntly enough. He indeed touched the 
 rim of his bonnet as he came in ; but, seeing all the of- 
 ficers covered, he stalked into the midst of them with 
 that immense circle of blue woollen on his head, which 
 moved over their helmets like a black cloud as he ad- 
 vanced. Bruce, who was well used to insult the peas- 
 antry with impunity, seeing Walter striding majestically 
 by his general in this guise, with his wonted forwardness 
 and jocularity lifted up his sword, sheathed as it was, and 
 with the point of it kicked off Walter's bonnet. The 
 latter caught it again as it fell, and with his fist, he made 
 Bruce's helmet ring against the wall ; then again fitting 
 on his bonnet, he gave him such an indignant and reprov- 
 ing look, that Bruce, having no encouragement from the 
 eye of Clavers, resented it no farther than by saying 
 
OF BODSBECK. (Jl 
 
 good-humouredly, " Ton my body and shoul, but the 
 carle keeps his good-looking head high enough." 
 
 " Copland," said Clavers, " desire Sergeant Daniel Roy 
 Macpherson, with eleven troopers, to attend." They 
 were instantly at the door. " Seize and pinion that 
 haughty rebel, together with all his family," said he, 
 " and then go and search every corner, chest, and closet 
 in the house ; for it is apparent that this is the nest and 
 rendezvous of the murdering fanatics who infest this 
 country. Let the rest of the soldiers guard the premises 
 that none escape to the mountains with tidings of our 
 arrival. This good dame we will first examine privately 
 and then dispose of her as shall seem most meet." 
 
 The command was promptly obeyed. Walter and all 
 his family were taken into custody, pinioned, and a guard 
 set on them ; the house was ransacked ; and in the 
 mean time the general and his three associates continued 
 the examination of the goodwife. Clavers observed that, 
 on the entrance of Walter before, she seemed to be laid 
 under some restraint, stopped short in her narration, and 
 said, " But there's the gudeman ; he'll tell ye it wi' mair 
 preceesion nor me ;" and he had no doubt, if she were 
 left to herself, of worming as much out of her as would 
 condemn her husband, or at least furnish a pretext suf- 
 ficient for the forfeiture of his wealth. Clavers had 
 caused to be sold, by public roup, the whole stock on the 
 farm of Phillhope, which belonged to Walter's brother- 
 in-law, merely because it was proven that the farmer's 
 wife had once been at a conventicle. 
 
 In the present instance, however, Clavers was mis- 
 taken, and fairly overshot his mark; for poor Maron 
 Linton was so overwhelmed with astonishment when she 
 saw her husband and family taken prisoners and bound, 
 that her speech lost all manner of coherence. She sob- 
 bed aloud- complained one while, entreated another; 
 and then muttered over some ill-sorted phrases from the 
 Scripture. When Clavers pressed his questions, she an- 
 swered him, weeping, " O dear sir, my lord, ye ken I 
 canna do naething, nor think naething, nor answer nae- 
 i. F 
 
62 THE BROWNIE 
 
 thing, unless ye let Watie loose again ; I find as I war 
 naebody, nor nae soul, nor naething ava wantin' him, 
 but just like a vacation or a shadow. O my lord, set 
 my twa bits o' callants an' my puir auld man loose again, 
 and I'll say ony thing that ever ye like." 
 
 Threats and proffers provoked alike in vain. Maron's 
 mind, which never was strong, had been of late so much 
 unhinged by the terrors of superstition, that it wavered 
 in its frail tenement threatening to depart, and leave not 
 a wreck behind. Clavers told her that her husband's 
 life depended on the promptness and sincerity of her an- 
 swers, he having rendered himself amenable to justice by 
 rescuing his daughter by force, whom they had taken 
 prisoner on their arrival, having found her engaged in a 
 very suspicious employment. This only increased Mar- 
 on's agony ; and at length Clavers was obliged to give up 
 the point, and ordered her into custody. 
 
 The soldiers had by this time taken old John of the 
 Muchrah and another of Laidlaw's shepherds prisoners, 
 who had come to assist their master with the farm-work 
 that day. All these Clavers examined separately ; and 
 their answers, as taken down in short-hand by Mr Adam 
 Copland, are still extant, and at present in my possession . 
 The following are some of them, as decyphered by Mr J. 
 W. Robertson, whose acquaintance with ancient manu- 
 scripts is well known. 
 
 John Hoy, shepherd in Muchrah, aged fifty-six, sworn 
 and examined. 
 
 " Do you know such a man as the Rev. James Ren- 
 wick?" 
 
 " Yes. I once heard him pray and preach for about 
 the space of two hours." 
 
 " Was it on your master's farm that he preached ?" 
 
 " No, it was in a linn on the Earl Hill, in the march 
 between two laird's lands, that he preached that day." 
 
 " How durst you go to an unlawful conventicle V" 
 
 " I didna ken there was a law against it till after it's 
 a wild place this we never hear ony o' the news, unless 
 it be twice a year frae the Moffat fairs. But as soon as 
 
OF BODSBECK. 63 
 
 1 heard him praying and preaching against the king I earn 
 aff an' left him, an' brought a' my lads an' lasses wi' me ; 
 but my wife wadna steer her fit there she sat, shaking 
 her head and glooming at me ; but I trow I cowed her 
 for't after." 
 
 " What did he say of the king?" 
 " O, I canna mind he said nae muckle gude o' him." 
 "' Did he say that he was a bloody perjured tyrant ?" 
 " Ay, he said muckle waur nor that. He said some 
 gayan ill-faur'd things about him. But I cam away and 
 left him ; I thought he was saying mair than gude man- 
 ners warrantit." 
 
 " Were you in the Hope, as you call it, on that day 
 that the king's soldiers were slain ?" 
 
 " Ay, that I was ; I was the first wha came on them 
 whan they war just new dead, an' a' reeking i' their warm 
 blude Gude keep us a' frae sic sights again ! for my 
 part, I never gat sic a confoundit gliff sin' I was born o' 
 my mother." 
 
 " Describe the place where the corpses were lying." 
 " It is a deep cleuch, wi' a sma* sheep rodding through 
 the linn not a foot wide ; and if ye war to stite aff that, 
 ye wad gang to the boddom o' the linn wi' a flaip." 
 
 " Were the bodies then lying in the bottom of that 
 linn r 
 
 " Od help ye, whar could they be lying else ? D'ye 
 think they could lie on the Cleuch-brae? Ye might 
 as weel think to lie on the side o' that wa' gin ye war 
 dead." 
 
 " How did it appear to you that they had been slain ? 
 were they cut with swords, or pierced with bullets ?" 
 " I canna say, but they war sair hashed." 
 " How do you mean when you say they were hashed." 
 " Champit like ; a' broozled and jurmummled, as it war." 
 ** Do you mean that they were cut, or cloven, or 
 minced ?" 
 
 " Na, na no that ava But they had gotten some 
 sair doofs 'They had been terribly paiket and daddit wi' 
 something." 
 
64 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " I do not in the least conceive what you mean." 
 
 " That's extrordnar, man can ye no understand folk's 
 mother-tongue ? I'll mak it plain to you. Ye see, whan 
 a thing comes on ye that gate, that's a dadd sit still 
 now. Then a paik, that's a swap or a skelp like when 
 a thing comes on ye that way, that's a paik. But a doofs 
 warst ava- it's " 
 
 " Prithee hold ; I now understand it all perfectly well. 
 What, then, is your opinion with regard to these 
 men's death ? How, or what way do you think they 
 were killed ?" 
 
 " O, sir, there's naebody can say. It was some ex- 
 trordnar judgment, that's out of a' doubt. There had 
 been an unyerdly raid i' the Hope that day." 
 
 " What reason have you for supposing such a thing?" 
 
 " Because there wasna a leevin soul i' the hale Hope 
 that day but theirsels they wadna surely hae felled ane 
 another It's, by an' attour, an awsome bit where they 
 war killed ; there hae been things baith seen and heard 
 about it; and I saw an apparition there mysel on the 
 very night before." 
 
 " You saw an apparition at the place the night before, 
 did you ? And, pray, what was that apparition like ?" 
 
 " It was like a man and a woman." 
 
 '* Had the figure of the woman no resemblance to any 
 one you had ever seen before ? Was it in any degree, 
 for instance, like your master's daughter ?" 
 
 " No unlike ava." 
 
 " Then I think I can guess what the other form was 
 like Had it a bonnet on its head?" 
 
 " Not a bonnet certainly, but it had the shape o' ane." 
 
 " I weened as much And was it a tall gigantic fig- 
 ure?" 
 
 " Na, na, sir ; the very contrair o' that." 
 
 " Are you certain of that you say ? Was it not taller 
 than the apparition of the woman ?" 
 
 " No half sae tall, sir." 
 
 " Had it not some slight resemblance to your master, 
 little as it was? Did that not strike you?" 
 
OF BODSBECK. 65 
 
 " Na, na, it was naething like ray master, nor nae 
 yerdly creature that ever was seen ; indeed it was nae 
 creature ava." 
 
 " What then do you suppose it was ?" 
 
 " Lord kens ! A wraith, I hae little doubt. My een 
 rins a' wi' water whan I think about it yet." 
 
 " Wraiths are quite common here, are they '?" 
 
 " O yes, sir ! cure common. They appear aye afore 
 death, especially if the death be to be sudden." 
 
 " And what are they generally like ?" 
 
 " Sometimes like a light sometimes like a windin- 
 sheet sometimes like the body that's to dee, gaen mad 
 and sometimes like a coffin made o' moon-light." 
 
 " Was it in the evening you saw this apparition ?" 
 
 " It was a little after midnight." 
 
 " And pray, what might be your business in such a 
 place at that untimely hour ? Explain that fully to me 
 if you please." 
 
 " I sail do that, sir, as weel as I can : Our ewes, ye 
 see, lie up in the twa Grams an' the Middle a' the harst 
 -Now, the Quave Brae again, it's our hogg-fence, that's 
 the hained grund like; and whenever the wind gangs 
 easterly about, then whan the auld luckies rise i' the 
 ho we o' the night to get their rug, aff they come, 
 snouckin a' the way to the Lang Bank, an' the tither 
 end o' them round the Papper Snout, and into the Quave 
 Brae to the hained grund ; an' very often they think 
 naething o' landing i' the mids o' the corn. Now I 
 never mindit the corn sae muckle ; but for them to gang 
 wi' the hogg-fence, I coudna bide that ava ; for ye ken, 
 sir, how could we turn our hand wi' our pickle hoggs i' 
 winter if their bit foggage war a' riven up by the auld 
 raikm hypalts ere ever a smeary's clute clattered on't ?" 
 
 Though Clavers was generally of an impatient temper, 
 and loathed the simplicity of nature, yet he could not 
 help smiling at this elucidation, which was much the 
 same to him as if it had been delivered in the language of 
 the Moguls ; but seeing the shepherd perfectly sincere, he 
 suffered him to go on to the end. 
 
 F2 
 
66 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " Now, sir, ye ken the wind very often taks a swee 
 away round to the east i' the night-time whan the wath- 
 er's gude i' the hairst months, an' whanever this was the 
 case, and the moon i' the lift, I had e'en aye obliged 
 to rise at midnight, and gang round the hill an' stop the 
 auld kimmers very little did the turn just a bit thraw 
 yont the brae, an' they kend my whistle, or my tike's 
 bark, as weel as I did mysel, still they wadna do wan- 
 tin't. Weel, ye see, sir, I gets up an' gangs to the door 
 it was a bonny night the moon was hingin o'er the 
 derk brows o' Hopertoody, an' the lang black scaddows 
 had an eiry look I turned my neb the tither gate, an' I 
 fand the air was gane to the eissel ; the se'en starns had 
 gaen oure the lum, an' the tail o' the king's elwand was 
 just pointin to the Muchrah cross. It's the very time, 
 quo' I to mysel, I needna think about lying down again 
 I maun leave Janet to lie doverin by hersel for an 
 hour or twa Keilder, my fine dog, where are ye ? He 
 was as ready as me he likes a ploy i' the night-time braw- 
 ly, for he's aye gettin a broostle at a hare, or a tod, or a 
 foumart, or some o' thae beasts that gang snaikin about i' 
 the derk. Sae to mak a lang tale short, sir, off we sets, 
 Keilder an' me, an' soon comes to the place. The ewes 
 had been very mensefu' that night, they had just corned 
 to the march and nae farther ; sae, I says, puir things, 
 sin' ye hae been sae leifu', we'll sit down an' rest a while, 
 the dog an' me, an' let ye tak a pluck an' fill yoursels or 
 we turn ye back up to your cauld lairs again. Sae down 
 we sits i' the scaddow of a bit derksome cleuch-brae 
 naebody could hae seen us ; and ere ever I wats, I hears 
 by the grumblin o' my friend, that he outher saw or 
 smelled something mair than ordinar. I took him in 
 aneath my plaid for fear o' some grit brainyell of an out- 
 brik, thinkin it some sheepstealer ; but whan I lookit, 
 there was a white thing and a black thing new risen out 
 o' the solid yird ! They cam' close by me ; and whan I 
 saw the moon shinin on their cauld white faces, I lost my 
 sight an* swarfed clean away. Wae be to them for 
 droichs, or ghaists, or whatever they war, for aye sin' 
 
OF BODSBECK. 6? 
 
 syne the hogg-fence o* the Quave Brae has been harried 
 an' traisselled till its little better nor a drove road I 
 darna gang an' stop the ewes now for the saul that's i' 
 my bouk, an' little do I wat what's to come o' the hoggs 
 the year." 
 
 " Well now, you have explained this much I believe 
 to your own satisfaction Remember then, you are 
 upon oath- Who do you think it was that killed these 
 men T 
 
 " I think it was outher God or the deil, but whilk o' 
 them, I coudna say." 
 
 " And this is really your opinion ?" 
 
 " Yes, it is." 
 
 " Have you seen any strangers about your master's 
 house of late ?" 
 
 " I saw one not long ago." 
 
 " What sort of a man was he?" 
 
 " A douse-looking man wi' a brown yaud ; I took him 
 for some wool-buyer." 
 
 " Was he not rather like a preacher." 
 
 " The man might hae preached for aught contrair till't 
 in his appearance I coudna say." 
 
 " Are you certain it was not Mr Ren wick ? ' 
 
 " I am certain." 
 
 "Is your master a very religious man ?" 
 
 " He's weel eneugh that way No that very reithe 
 on't ; but the gudewife hauds his neb right sair to the 
 grindstane about it." 
 
 " Does he perform family worship ?" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 "Is he reckoned a great and exemplary performer of 
 that duty?" 
 
 " Na, he's nae great gun, I trow ; but he warstles 
 away at it as weel as he can." 
 
 " Can you repeat any part, or any particular passage of 
 his usual prayer ?" 
 
 " I'm sure I might, for he gangs often aneuch cure some 
 o' them. Let me see there's the still waters, and the 
 green pastures, and the blood of bulls and of goats ; and 
 
68 THE BROWNIE 
 
 then there's the gos-hawk, and the slogy riddle, and f he 
 tyrant an' his lang neb ; I hae the maist o't i' my head, 
 but then I canna mouband it." 
 
 " What does he mean by the tyrant and his lang neb V" 
 
 " Aha ! But that's mair nor ever I could find out yet. 
 We whiles think he means the Kelpy -him that raise* 
 the storms an' the floods on us, ye ken, and gars the 
 waters an' the burns come roarin down wi' bracks o' ice 
 an' snaw, an' tak away our sheep. But whether it's Kel- 
 py, or Clavers, or the Deil, we can never be sure, for we 
 think it applies gay an' weel to them a'." 
 
 " Repeat the passage as well as you can." 
 
 " Bring down the tyrant an' his lang neb, for he has 
 done muckle ill this year, and gie him a cup o' thy wrath ; 
 an' gin he winna tak that, gie him kelty." 
 
 " What is meant by kelty ?" 
 
 " That's double it means twa cups ony body kens 
 that." 
 
 " Does he ever mention the king in his prayer ?" 
 
 " O yes : always." 
 
 " What does he say about him?" 
 
 " Something about the sceptre of righteousness, and 
 the standard of truth. I ken he has some rhame about 
 him." 
 
 " Indeed ! And does he likewise make mention of the 
 Covenant ?" 
 
 ** Ay, that's after that's near the end, just afore the 
 resurrection. O yes, he harls aye in the Covenant there. 
 ' The bond o' the everlasting Covenant,' as he ca's it, 
 ' weel ordered in all things, and sure.' " 
 
 " Ay, that's very well ; that's quite sufficient. Now, 
 you have yourself confessed, that you were at an unlawful 
 and abominable conventicle, holding fellowship with inter- 
 communed rebels, along with your wife and family. You 
 must be made an example of to the snarling and rebellious 
 hounds that are lurking in these bounds ; but as you have 
 answered me with candour, though I might order you in- 
 stantly to be shot, I will be so indulgent as to give you 
 your choice, whether you will go to prison in Edinburgh, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 69 
 
 and be there tried by the Council, or submit to the judg- 
 ment which I may pronounce on you here ?" 
 
 " O, sir, I canna win to Edinbrough at no rate that's 
 impossible. What think ye wad come o' the sheep ? The 
 hogg-fence of the Quave Brae is maistly ruined already ; 
 and war I to gae to the prison at Edinbrough, it wad be 
 mair loss than a' that I'm worth. I maun just lippen to 
 yoursel ; but ye maunna be very sair on me. I never 
 did ony ill designedly ; and as for ony rebellion against 
 the Bruce's blood, I wad be hangit or I wad think o' sic 
 a thing." 
 
 " Take the old ignorant animal away Burn him on 
 the cheek, cut off his ears, and do not part with him till 
 he pay you down a fine of two hundred merks, or value 
 to that amount. And, do you hear, make him take all 
 the oaths twice ; and a third oath, that he is never to re- 
 pent of these. If either Monmouth or Argyle get him, 
 they shall have a perjured dog of him.'' 
 
 As John was dragged off to this punishment, which was 
 executed without any mitigation, he shook his head and 
 said, "Ah, lak-a-day? I fear things are muckle waur 
 wi' us than I had ony notion o' ! I trowed aye that even- 
 down truth an' honesty bure some respect till now I 
 fear our country's a' wrang thegither." -Then looking 
 back to Clavers, he added, " Gude sooth, lad, but ye'll 
 mak mae whigs wherever ye show your face, than a' the 
 hill preachers o' Scotland put thegither." 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 IT has been remarked by all the historians of that 
 period, that the proceedings of Clavers about this time 
 were severe in the extreme. The rising, both in the 
 north and south at the same time, rendered the situation of 
 affairs somewhat ticklish. Still the Lowlands were then 
 
70 THE BROWNIE 
 
 perfectly peaceable ; but he seemed determined, lest he 
 should be called away, to destroy the Covenanters, and all 
 that hankered after civil and religious liberty, root and 
 oranch. Certainly his behaviour at Chapelhope that 
 morning, was sufficient to stamp his character for ever 
 in that district, where it is still held in at least as great 
 detestation as that of the arch-fiend himself. 
 
 When the soldiers, by his order, seized and manacled 
 Walter, he protested vehemently against such outrage, 
 and urged the general to prove his fidelity to his sove- 
 reign by administering to him the test oath, and the oath 
 of abjuration ; but this Clavers declined, and said to him, 
 with a sneer, that "they had other ways of trying dogs 
 beside that." 
 
 When those who had been appointed to search the house 
 came before him, and gave in their report, among other 
 things, they said they had found as much bread new bak- 
 ed, and mutton newly cooked, as would be a reasonable 
 allowance for a hundred men for at least one whole day. 
 Clavers remarked, that in a family so few in number, this 
 was proof positive that others were supported from that 
 house. " But we shall disappoint the whigs of one hearty 
 meal," added he ; and with that he ordered the meat to 
 be brought all out and set down upon the green bid his 
 troopers eat as much as they could feed their horses 
 with the bread which they left, and either destroy the 
 remainder of the victuals or carry them away. 
 
 It was in vain that Walter told him the honest truth, 
 that the food was provided solely for himself and his 
 soldiers, as he knew they were to come by that road, 
 either on that day or the one following ; nay, though all 
 the family avouched it, as they well might, he only re- 
 marked, with a look of the utmost malignity, that " he 
 never in his life knew a whig who had not a lie ready on 
 his tongue, or some kind of equivocation to save his life, 
 but that they must necessarily all be taught who they were 
 dealing with." He then made them all swear that they 
 were to tell the truth, the whole t^uth, and nothing but 
 the truth, and to utter the most horrid imprecations ou 
 
OF BODSBECK. 7 1 
 
 themselves and their souls for ever, if they deviated in one 
 single item ; and beginning with old John, as before 
 related, he examined them all separately and out of 
 hearing of one another. 
 
 The interrogations and answers are much too long 
 to be inserted here at full length ; but the only new cir- 
 cumstances that came to light were these two. One of 
 the young men deponed, that, when the bodies of the 
 soldiers were found in the Hope, their muskets were all 
 loaded, which showed that they had not fallen in a regu- 
 lar skirmish ; and the other boy swore that he had lately 
 seen eighty large thick bannocks baked in one day in his 
 father's house, for that he had counted them three times 
 over as they stood cooling. This was another suspicious 
 circumstance, and Clavers determined to search it to the 
 bottom. He sifted the two youths backward and forward, 
 trying to get the secret out of them by every wile in his 
 power ; and because they were unable to give him any 
 satisfactory account who consumed all that store of bread, 
 he caused his dragoons to take hold of the youngest and 
 gird his head with a cord, twisting it with a horse pistol, 
 until in some places it cut him to the skull. The eldest, 
 he hung up to the beam by the thumbs until he fainted 
 through insufferable pain ; but he could get nothing more 
 out of them, for they had at first told him all that they 
 knew, being quite unconscious of any evil. 
 
 Still bent, as it seemed, on the full conviction and ruin 
 of the family, he told the boys that they were two of the 
 most consummate knaves and rebels that he had in all his 
 life seen ; and that if they had any hopes at all of going 
 to Heaven, they should say their prayers, for in a few 
 minutes he would order them both to be shot. 
 
 John, the eldest, who possessed a good deal of his 
 mother's feebleness of character, and was besides but new- 
 ly recovered from a fainting fit, was seized with a stupor, 
 appeared quite passive, and acted precisely as they bade 
 him, without seeming to know what he did; but the 
 youngest, whose name was William, preserved an inter- 
 esting firmness, in such a trial, for a considerable time. 
 
72 THE BROWNIE 
 
 On being advised by Clavers to tell all he knew rather 
 than die, and asked if he was not afraid of death ? He 
 answered, with the tear in his eye, " I'm nouther feared 
 for you nor death, man. I think if fock may be guidit 
 this way at their ane hames, the sooner they're dead the 
 better." Then turning his looks to his brother, who 
 kneeled according to the general's order on the green be- 
 side him, he added, with convulsive sobs, " But poor 
 Jock's gaun to be shot too I wonder what ye need 
 kill him for What ill hae we ever done t'ye ? Jock's 
 a very good callant I canna pray weel, but if ye'il let 
 my billy Jock gang, I'll pray for ye as I can, and kiss ye 
 too." 
 
 Happy was it for the wits of poor Maron that she saw 
 nothing of this touching scene ; she, as well as Walter, 
 being then with the rest under a strong guard in the Old 
 Room. Clavers paid no regard to the kneeling boy's re- 
 quest. He caused his troopers to draw up around them, 
 present their firelocks, and then an executioner, who was 
 always one of his train, tied up both their eyes. He 
 gave the word himself, and instantly ten or twelve cara- 
 bines were discharged on them at once. John fell flat on 
 the earth ; but William, with a violent start, sprung to 
 his feet, and, being blindfolded, ran straight on the files 
 of soldiers. 
 
 Clavers laid hold of him. " My brave little fellow," 
 said he, " the soldiers have all missed you, bungling 
 beasts that they are ! and since so wonderful a thing hath 
 befallen you, you shall yet have your life, though a most 
 notorious rebel, if you will tell me what people frequent 
 your father's house." 
 
 " What's corned o' Jock?" said the boy, " O tell me 
 what's corned o' Jock, for I canna see." 
 
 " Jock is lying dead on the green there, all bathed in 
 his blood," said Clavers ; " poor wretch ! it is over with 
 him, and unless you instantly tell me who it was that 
 consumed all that store of bread that has been baked in 
 your father's house for the last month, you must be sent 
 after him." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 73 
 
 William withdrew backward a few paces, and kneeling 
 a second time down on the sward with great decency and 
 deliberation, "Shoot again," said he; "try me aince 
 mair ; an' O see to airch a wee better this time. I wad 
 rather dee a hunder times or I saw poor Jock lying a 
 bloody corp." 
 
 Clavers made a sign to one of his dragoons, who un- 
 bound William, and took the bandage from his eyes. 
 Regardless of all else, he looked wildly around hi search 
 of his brother, and seeing his only companion lying flat 
 on his face, he at first turned away, as if wishing to escape 
 from a scene so dismal ; but his helpless and forlorn situ- 
 ation staring him in the face, and the idea doubtless 
 recurring that he was never to part with his brother, but 
 forthwith to be slaughtered and carried to the grave with 
 him, he returned, went slowly up to the body, kneeled 
 down beside it, and pulling the napkin farther down over 
 the face to keep the dead features from view, he clasped 
 his arms about his brother's neck, laid his cheek to his, 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 The narrator of this part of the tale was wont to say, 
 that the scene which followed had something more touch- 
 ing in it than any tongue could describe, although Cla- 
 vers and his troops only laughed at it. William had now 
 quite relinquished all sensations of fear or danger, and 
 gave full vent to a flood of passionate tenderness and 
 despair. He clasped his brother's neck closer and closer, 
 steeped his cheek with his tears, and seemed to cling and 
 grow to the body with a miserable fondness. While he 
 was giving full scope in this manner to the affections of 
 his young heart, his brother made a heave up with his 
 head and shoulder, saying at the same time, like one 
 wakening from a dream, "Little Will, is that you? 
 Haud aff, What ails ye?" 
 
 William raised up his head, fixed his eyes on vacan- 
 cy, the tears dried on his cheek, and his ruby lips were 
 wide apart, the thing was beyond his comprehension, 
 and never was seen a more beautiful statue of amaze- 
 ment. He durst not turn his eyes towards his brother ; 
 
74 THE BROWNIE 
 
 but he uttered in words scarcely articulate, " Lord ! I 
 believe they hae missed Jock too !" 
 
 Clavers had given private orders to his dragoons to 
 fire over the heads of the two boys, his intent being to 
 intimidate them so much as to eradicate every principle 
 of firmness and power of concealment from their tender 
 minds ; a scheme of his own fertile invention, and one 
 which he often practised upon young people with too sure 
 effect. When William found that his brother was really 
 alive, and that both of them were to be spared on condi- 
 tion that he gave up the names and marks of all the peo- 
 ple that had of late been at Chapelhope ; he set himself 
 with great earnestness to recount them, along with every 
 mark by which he remembered them, determined that 
 every hidden thing should be brought to light, rather than 
 that poor Jock should be shot at again. 
 
 " Weel, ye see, first there was Geordie the flesher, 
 him that took away the crocks and the paulies, and my 
 brockit-lamb, and gae me a penny for setting him through 
 atween the lochs. Then there was Hector Kenne- 
 dy the tinkler, him that the bogles brought and laid 
 down at the door i' the night-time he suppit twa bicker- 
 fu's o' paritch, an' cleekit a hantle o' geds an' perches 
 wi' his toum out o' the loch. Then there was Ned 
 Huddersfield the woo-man, wi' the leather bags and the 
 skeenzie thread him that kissed our byre-woman i' the 
 barn in spite o' her teeth, he had red cheeks and grit 
 thees, and wasna unlike a glutton ; he misca'd my father's 
 woo, an' said aye, ' Nay, it's nane clean, howsomever, 
 it's useless, that's its worst fault.' Then there was wee 
 Willie the nout-herd, him that had the gude knife an' 
 the duddy breeks ; but the Brownies put him daft, 
 an' his mither had to come an' tak him away upon a 
 cuddy. 
 
 In this manner went he on particularizing every one 
 he remembered, till fairly cut short with a curse. John 
 continued perfectly stupid, and when examined, answered 
 only Yes, or No, as their way of asking the question 
 dictated. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 75 
 
 " Are there not great numbers of people who frequent 
 your father's house during the night?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you see and hear them, after you go to bed ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What are they generally employed in when you 
 hear them ? Do they read, and pray, and sing psalms ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do your father and mother always join them ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Here William could restrain himself no longer. 
 " Gude faith, Jock, man," said he, "ye're just telling a 
 hirsel o' eindown lees. It canna be lees that the man 
 wants, for that maks him nae the wiser ; an' for you to 
 say that my father rises to pray i' the night-time, beats 
 a,' when ye ken my mither has baith to fleitch an' fight 
 or she can get him eggit on till't i' the Sabbath e'enings. 
 He's ower glad to get it foughten decently by, to rise 
 an' fa' till't again. O fye, Jock ! I wad stand by the 
 truth ; an', at ony rate, no just gaung to hell open 
 mouth." 
 
 When the volley of musketry went off, all the prison- 
 ers started and stared on one another ; even the hundred 
 veterans that guarded them appeared by their Iboks to be 
 wholly at a loss. Macpherson alone ventured any re- 
 mark on it. " Fat she pe pluff pluffing at now ? May 
 the teal more pe her soul's salvation, if she do not believe 
 te man's pe gone out of all reason." 
 
 The women screamed ; and Maron, whose tongue was 
 a mere pendulum to the workings of the heart within, 
 went on sighing and praying ; asking questions, and an- 
 swering them alternately ; and, at every pause, looked 
 earnestly to her husband, who leaned against the cor- 
 ner of the room, ashamed that his bound hand should be 
 seen. 
 
 " Och ! Aigh me !" cried Maron, " Dear sirs, what's 
 the fock shootin at? Eh? I'm sure they hae nae 
 battlers to fight wi' there? No ane I wat, no ane. 
 \igh-wow, sirs! the lives o' God's creatures! They 
 
76 THE BROWNIE 
 
 never shoot nae callants, do they ? Oh, na, na, they'll 
 never shoot innocent bairns, puir things ! They'll may- 
 be hae been trying how weel they could vizy at the wild 
 ducks ; there's a hantle o' cleckins about the saughs o' 
 the lake. Hout ay, that's a'. He hasna forgotten to be 
 gracious, nor is his mercy clean gane." 
 
 Thus poor Maron went on, and though she had but 
 little discernment left, she perceived that there was a 
 tint of indignant madness in her husband's looks. His 
 lips quivered his eyes dilated and the wrinkles on his 
 brow rolled up to the roots of his dark grizzled hair. 
 " Watie," cried she, in a shrill and tremulous voice 
 " Watie, what ails ye? >Oh ! tell me what ails ye, Wa- 
 tie ? What's the fock shooting at ? Eh ? Yell no tell me 
 what they're shooting at, Watie ? Oh, oh, oh, oh !" 
 
 Walter uttered no word, nor did his daughter, who sat 
 in dumb astonishment, with her head almost bent to her 
 feet ; but old Nanny joined hi full chorus with her mis- 
 tress, and a wild unearthly strain the couple raised, till 
 checked by Sergeant Roy Macpherson. 
 
 "Fat too-whooing pe tat? Do you tink that should the 
 lenamh beg pe shot trou te poty, tat is te son to your- 
 self Do you tink, you will too-whoo him up akain ? 
 Hay ? -Cot tamn, pe holding your paice." 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 UPON the whole, there was no proof against Walter. 
 Presumption was against him, but the evidence was ra- 
 ther in his favour. Military law, however, prevailed ; 
 and he found that there was no redress to be had of any 
 grievance or insult, that this petty tyrant, in his caprice, 
 thought fit to inflict. His drivers were ordered to take 
 the whole stock from the farms of Riskinhope, belonging 
 
OF BODSBECK. 77 
 
 to David Bryden, who lived at a distance, because it was 
 proven, that Mr Renwick had preached and baptized some 
 children on the bounds of that farm. That stock he 
 caused to be taken to Selkirk, and sent orders to the sheriff 
 to sell it by public roup, at the cross, to the highest bid- 
 der ; but with Walter's stock he did not meddle at that 
 time ; so far did justice mark his proceedings. He 
 strongly suspected him, and wished to have him convict- 
 ed ; and certainly would have taken all the family with 
 him prisoners, had not the curate Clerk arrived at that 
 critical time. Him Clavers consulted apart, and was soon 
 given to understand the steadfast loyalty of the gudewife, 
 daughter, and all the family, save Walter, whom he said, 
 he suspected of a secret connivance with the Cameron- 
 ians. This was merely to serve a selfish purpose, for 
 Clerk suspected no such thing at that time. It had the 
 desired effect. Clavers set all the rest of the family free, 
 but took the goodman with him prisoner ; put two of his 
 best horses in requisition ; mounted himself on a diminu- 
 tive poney, with the thumbikins on his hands, and his feet 
 chained below its belly. In this degrading situation, he 
 was put under the care of Sergeant Roy Macpherson and 
 five troopers ; and Clavers, with the rest of his company, 
 hasted, with great privacy and celerity, into that inhos- 
 pitable wild, which forms the boundary between Drum- 
 melzier's ancient property and the Johnstons of Annan- 
 dale. The greater part of the fugitives had taken shel- 
 ter there at that time, it being the most inaccessible part 
 in the south of Scotland, and that where, of all others, 
 they had been the least troubled. No troops could sub- 
 sist near them ; and all that the military could do was to 
 set watches near every pass to and from these mountains, 
 where a few stragglers were killed, but not many in pro- 
 portion to the numbers that had there sought a retreat. 
 
 The Covenanters knew that Clavers would make a 
 sweeping and exterminating circuit about that time in- 
 cidents which were not to be overlooked, had been paving 
 the way for it incidents with which the main body of 
 that people were totally unconnected. But it was usual 
 
 G2 
 
78 THE BROWNIE 
 
 at that time, and a very unfair practice it was, that what- 
 ever was said, or perpetrated, by any intemperate fana- 
 tical individual, or any crazy wight, driven half mad by 
 ill usage whatever was said or done by such, was always 
 attributed to the whole sect as a body. It is too true 
 that the Privy Council chose, invariably, men void of all 
 feeling or remorse to lead these troops. A man had no- 
 thing to study but to be cruel enough to rise in the army 
 in those days ; yet, because there was a Dalziel, a Graham, 
 a Creighton, and a Bruce among the king's troops, it 
 would be unfair to suppose all the rest as void of every 
 principle of feeling and forbearance as they. In like 
 manner, because some of the Covenanters said violent 
 and culpable things, and did worse, it is hard to blame 
 the whole body for these ; for, in the scattered prowling 
 way in which they were driven to subsist, they had no 
 control over individuals. 
 
 They had been looking for the soldiers' appearing there 
 for several days, and that same morning had been on the 
 watch ; but the day was now so far advanced that they 
 were waxen remiss, and had retired to their dens and 
 hiding places. Besides, he came so suddenly upon them 
 that some parties, as well as several stragglers, were in- 
 stantly discovered. A most determined pursuit ensued. 
 Clavers exerted'himself that day in such a manner, gallop - 
 ping over precipices, and cheering on his dragoons, that 
 all the country people who beheld him believed him to 
 be a devil, or at least mounted on one. The marks of 
 that infernal courser's feet are shewn to this day on a 
 steep hill nearly perpendicular, below the Bubbly Craig, 
 along which he is said to have ridden at full speed, in 
 order to keep sight of a party of the flying Covenan- 
 ters. At another place, called the Blue Sklidder, on the 
 Merk side, he had far outrode all his officers and dra- 
 goons in the pursuit of five men, who fled straggling 
 athwart the steep. He had discharged both his pistols 
 without effect ; and just as he was making ready to 
 cleave down the hindmost with his sabre, he was attacked 
 by another party, who rolled huge stones at him from the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 79 
 
 precipice above, and obliged him to make a hasty re- 
 treat. 
 
 Tradition has preserved the whole of his route that 
 day with the utmost minuteness. It is not easy to 
 account for this. These minute traditions are gene- 
 rally founded on truth ; yet though two generations have 
 scarcely passed away since the date of this tale,* tradi- 
 tion, in this instance, relates things impossible, else Cla- 
 vers must indeed have been one of the infernals. Often 
 has the present relater of this tale stood over the deep 
 green marks of that courser's hoof, many of which remain 
 on that hill, in awe and astonishment, to think that he 
 was actually looking at the traces made by the devil's 
 foot, or at least by a horse that once belonged to him. 
 
 Five men were slain that day ; but as they were all 
 westland men, very little is known concerning them. 
 One of them was shot at a distance by some dragoons 
 who were in pursuit of him, just as he was entering a 
 morass, where he would certainly have escaped them. 
 He is buried on a place called the Watch Knowe, a little to 
 the south-east of Loch Skene, beside a cairn where he 
 had often sat keeping watch for the approach of enemies, 
 from which circumstance the height derived its name. 
 When he fell, it being rough broken ground, they turned 
 and rode off without ever going up to the body. Four 
 were surprised and taken prisoners on a height called 
 Ker-Cleuch-Ridge, who were brought to Clavers and 
 shortly examined on a little crook in the Erne Cleuch, a 
 little above the old steading at Hopertoudy. 
 
 Macpherson kept the high road, such as it was, with 
 his prisoner ; but travelled no faster than just to keep up 
 with the parties that were scouring the hills on each 
 side ; and seeing these unfortunate men hurled in from 
 the hill, he rode up with his companions and charge 
 to see the issue, remarking to Walter, that " he woolt 
 not pe much creat deal te worse of seeing fwat te fwigs 
 would pe getting." 
 
 * One of the women baptized in the Linn of Riskinliope by Remvick that 
 year, has several children yet alive, not very aged peo t le. 
 
80 THE BROWNIE 
 
 How did Walter's heart smite him when he saw that 
 one of them was the sensible, judicious, and honourable 
 fellow with whom he fought, and whose arm he had dis- 
 located by a blow with his stick ! It was still hanging in 
 a sling made of a double rush rope. 
 
 They would renounce nothing, confess nothing, nor 
 yield, in the slightest degree, to the threats and insult- 
 ing questions put by the general. They expected no 
 mercy, and they cringed for none ; but seemed all the 
 while to regard him with pity and contempt. Walter 
 often said that he was an ill judge of the cause for which 
 these men suffered ; but whatever might be said of it, 
 they were heroes in that cause. Their complexions 
 were sallow, and bore marks of famine and other priva- 
 tions ; their beards untrimmed ; their apparel all in rags, 
 and their hats slouched down about their ears with sleep- 
 ing on the hills. All this they had borne with resigna- 
 tion and without a murmur ; and, when brought to the 
 last, before the most remorseless of the human race, they 
 shewed no symptoms of flinching or yielding up an item 
 of the cause they had espoused. 
 
 When asked, if they would pray for the king, 
 
 They answered, "that they would with all their 
 hearts ; they would pray for his forgiveness, in time 
 and place convenient, but not when every profligate 
 bade them, which were a loathful scurrility, and a mock- 
 ery of God." 
 
 " Would they acknowledge him as their right and law- 
 ful sovereign?" 
 
 " No, that they would never do ! He was a bloody 
 and designing papist, and had usurped a prerogative that 
 belonged not to him. To acknowledge the Duke of 
 York for king, would be to acknowledge the divine ap- 
 probation of tyranny, oppression, usurpation, and all that 
 militates against religion or liberty, as well as justifying 
 the abrogation of our ancient law relating to the succes- 
 sion ; and that, besides, he had trampled on every civil 
 and religious right, and was no king for Scotland, or any 
 land where the inhabitants did not choose the most abject 
 
OF BODSBECK. 81 
 
 and degrading slavery. For their parts, they would 
 never acknowledge him ; and though it was but little 
 that their protestations and their blood could avail, they 
 gave them freely. They had but few left to mourn for 
 them, and these few might never know of their fate ; but 
 there was One who knew their hearts, who saw their suf- 
 ferings, and in Him they trusted that the days of tyranny 
 and oppression were wearing to a close, and that a race 
 yet to come might acknowledge that they had not shed 
 their blood in vain." 
 
 Clavers ordered them all to be shot. They craved 
 time to pray, but he objected, sullenly alleging, that he 
 had not time to spare. Mr Copland said, " My lord, 
 you had better grant the poor wretches that small indul- 
 gence." On which Clavers took out his watch, and said 
 he would grant them two minutes, provided they did not 
 howl. When the man with the hurt arm turned round 
 to kneel, Walter could not help crying out to him in a 
 voice half stifled with agony 
 
 " Ah ! lack-a-day, man ! is it come to this with you, 
 and that so soon ? This is a sad sight !" 
 
 The man pretended to put on a strange and astonished 
 look towards his benefactor. 
 
 " Whoever you are," said he, " that pities the suffer- 
 ings of a hapless stranger, I thank you. May God re- 
 quite you ! but think of yourself, and apply for mercy 
 where it is to be found, for you are in the hands of those 
 whose boast it is to despise it." 
 
 Walter at first thought this was strange, but he soon 
 perceived the policy of it, and wondered at his friend's 
 readiness at such an awful hour, when any acknowledg- 
 ment of connection would have been so fatal to himself. 
 They kneeled all down, clasped their hands together, 
 turned their faces to Heaven, and prayed in a scarce 
 audible whisper. Captain Bruce, in the mean time, kneeled 
 behind the files, and prayed in mockery, making a long 
 face, wiping his eyes, and speaking in such a ludicrous 
 whine, that it was impossible for the gravest face to re- 
 tain its muscles unaltered. He had more to attend to 
 
82 THE BROWNIE 
 
 him than the miserable sufferers. When the two mi- 
 nutes were expired, Clavers, who held his watch all the 
 time, made a sign to the dragoons who were drawn up, 
 without giving any intimation to the sufferers, which, per- 
 haps, was merciful, and in a moment all the four were 
 launched into eternity. 
 
 The soldiers, for what reason Walter never under- 
 stood, stretched the bodies all in a straight line on the 
 , brae, with their faces upwards, and about a yard distant 
 from one another, and then rode off as fast as they could to 
 get another hunt, as they called it. These four men were 
 afterwards carried away by the fugitives, and some coun- 
 try people, and decently interred in Ettrick churchyard. 
 Their graves are all in a row a few paces from the south- 
 west corner of the present church. The goodman of 
 Chapelhope, some years thereafter, erected a head-stone 
 over the grave of the unfortunate sufferer whose arm he 
 had broken, which, with its rude sculpture, is to be seen 
 to this day. His name was Walter Biggar. A small 
 heap of stones is raised on the place where they were shot. 
 
 The last look which Walter took of the four corpses, 
 as they lay stretched on the brae, with the blood stream- 
 ing from them, had nearly turned his brain. His heart 
 sunk within him. For years and days the scene never 
 left his mind's eye, sleeping nor waking. He always 
 thought he saw them lying on the green sloping brae, 
 with their pale visages, blue open lips, clasped hands, and 
 dim steadfast eyes still fixed on the heavens. He had 
 heard Clavers and his officers called heroes : he wished 
 those who believed so had been there that day, to have 
 judged who were the greatest heroes. 
 
 "There ! let them take that !" said Captain Bruce, as 
 he mounted his horse. 
 
 " Poor misled unfortunate beings !" said Copland, and 
 mounted his. 
 
 " Huh ! Cot t n !" said Roy Macpherson, in. a voice 
 that seemed to struggle for an outlet ; and Walter, to his 
 astonishment, saw a tear glistening on his rough weather- 
 beaten cheek, as he turned to ride away ! 
 
OF BODSBECK. 83 
 
 The pursuit continued unabated for the whole of that 
 day. There was a great deal of firing, but the hills of 
 Polmoody were inaccessible to cavalry. There was no 
 more blood shed. They lodged that night at a place 
 called Keppelgill, where they put every thing in requisi- 
 tion about the house, and killed some of the cattle. Cla- 
 vers was in extremely bad humour, and Walter had no 
 doubt that he once intended to have sacrificed him that 
 night, but seemed to change his mind, after having again 
 examined him. He was very stern, and threatened him 
 with the torture, swearing that he knew him to be the 
 supporter of that nest of miscreants that harboured 
 around him, and that though he should keep him prisoner 
 for a dozen years, he would have it proven on him. 
 Walter made oath that there had never one of them 
 been within his door, consistent with his knowledge ; 
 that he had never been at a conventicle ; and proffered to 
 take the test, and oath of abjuration, if allowed to do so. 
 All this would not satisfy Clavers. Walter said he won - 
 dered at his discernment, for, without the least evil or 
 disloyal intent, he found he had rendered himself liable 
 to punishment, but how he could be aware of that he 
 knew not. 
 
 That night Walter was confined in a cowhouse, under 
 the same guard that had conducted him from Chapelhope. 
 The soldiers put his arms round one of the stakes for the 
 cattle, and then screwed on the thumbikins, so that he 
 was fastened to the stake without being much incom- 
 moded. When Macpherson came in at a late hour, (for 
 he was obliged likewise to take up his abode in the cow- 
 house over night), the first word he said was, - 
 
 " She no pe liking to see an honest shentleman tied 
 up to a stake, as she were peing a poollock." 
 
 He then began to lecture Walter on the magnitude of 
 folly it would be in him to run away, " when he took it 
 into consideration that he had a ponny fhamily, and 
 sheeps, and horses, and bheasts, that would all pe uiaide 
 acchountable." 
 
 Walter acknowledged the force of his reasoning ; said 
 
84 THE BROWNIE 
 
 it was sterling common sense, and that nothing would 
 induce him to try such a dangerous experiment as attempt- 
 ing to make his escape. Macpherson then loosed him 
 altogether, and conversed with him until he fell asleep. 
 Walter asked him, what he thought of his case with the 
 general? Macpherson shook his head. Walter said 
 there was not the shadow of a proof against him ! " No?" 
 said Macpherson ; "but there surely is ! There is very 
 much deal of proof. Was not there my countrymen 
 and scholdiers murdered on your grhounds? Was not 
 there mhore scoans, and prochin, and muttons in your 
 house, than would have peen eaten in a mhonth by the 
 fhamily that pelongs to yourself. By the pode more of 
 the ould deol, but there is more proof than would hang 
 twenty poor peoples." 
 
 " That's but sma' comfort, man ! But what think ye 
 I should do ?" 
 
 " How can I know ! Who is it that is your Chief?" 
 
 "Chief! What's that?" 
 
 " Tat is te head of te clan Te pig man of your name 
 and fhamily." 
 
 " In troth, man, an' there isna ane o' my name aboon 
 mysel." 
 
 " Fwat? Cot's everlasting plissing ! are you te chief 
 of te clan, M'Leadle? Then, sir, you are a shentleman 
 indeed. Though your clan should pe never so poor, 
 you are a shentleman ; and you must pe giving me your 
 hand ; and you need not think any shame to pe giving 
 me your hand ; for hersel pe a shentleman pred and porn, 
 and furst coosin to Cluny Macpherson's sister-in-law. 
 Who te deol dha more she pe this clan, M'Leadle ? She 
 must be of Macleane. She once pe prhother to ourselves, 
 but fell into great dishunity by the preaking off of Finlay 
 Gorm More Machalabin Macleane of Ilanterach and Ard- 
 namurchan." 
 
 Walter having thus set Daniel Roy Macpherson on 
 the top of his hobby-horse by chance, there was no end 
 of the matter ! He went on with genealogies of uncouth 
 names, and spoke of some old freebooters as the greatest 
 
OF BODSBECK. 85 
 
 of all kings. Walter had no means of stopping him, but 
 by pretending to fall asleep, and when Macpherson ween- 
 ed that no one was listening farther to him, he gave up 
 the theme, turned himself over, and uttered some fervent 
 sentences in Gaelic, with heavy moans between. 
 
 " What's that you are saying now," said Walter, pre- 
 tending to rouse himself up. 
 
 " Pe sad works this," said he. " Huh ! Cot in hea- 
 ven aye ! Hersel would be fighting te Campbells, sword 
 in hand, for every inch of the Moor of Rhanoch ; but 
 she does not like to pe pluffing and shooting through te 
 podies of te poor helpless insignificant crheatures. T n'd 
 foolish ignorant people ! Cot t n, if she pe having the 
 good sense and prhudence of a bheast." 
 
 Walter commended his feeling, and again asked his 
 advice with regard to his own conduct. 
 
 " Who is te great man tat is te laird to yourself ?" asked 
 he. 
 
 " Mr Hay of Drummelzier," was answered. 
 
 " Then lose not a mhoment in getting his very good 
 report or security. All goes by that. It will do more 
 ghood than any stock of innocence ; and you had need 
 to look very sharp, else he may soon cut you short. It's 
 a very good and a very kind man, but she pe caring no 
 more for the lives of peoples, tan I would do for as many 
 ptarmigans." 
 
 Walter pondered on this hint throughout the night ; 
 and the more he did so the more he was convinced, that, 
 as the affairs of the country were then conducted, Mac- 
 pherson's advice was of the first utility. He sent for 
 one of the shepherds of Keppelgill next morning, charged 
 him with an express to his family, and unable to do any 
 thing further for himself, submitted patiently to his fate. 
 
 Clavers having been informed that night that some 
 great conventicles had been held to the southward, he 
 arose early, crossed the mountains by the Pennera Corse, 
 and entered that district of the south called Eskdale. He 
 had run short of ammunition by the way, and knowing 
 of no other supply, dispatched Bruce with 20 men by 
 
 I. H 
 
86 THE BROWNIE 
 
 the way of Ettrick, to plunder the aisle where the ancient 
 and noble family of the Scotts of Thirlstane were en- 
 shrined in massy leaden chests. From these he cut the 
 lids, and otherwise damaged them, scattering the bones 
 about in the aisle ; but the Scotts of Daventon shortly after 
 gathered up the relics of their ancestors, which they again 
 deposited in the chests, closed them up with wooden 
 lids, arid buried them deep under the aisle floor, that 
 they might no more be discomposed by the hand of wan- 
 ton depravity. 
 
 At a place called the Steps of Glenderg, Clavers met 
 with Sir James Johnston of Westeraw, with fifty armed 
 men, who gave him an exaggerated account of the dis- 
 trict of Eskdale, telling him of such and such field-meet- 
 ings, and what inflammatory discourses had there been 
 delivered, insinuating all the while that the whole dale 
 ought to be made an example of. Clavers rejoiced in 
 his heart at this, for the works of devastation and de- 
 struction were beginning to wear short. The Covenan- 
 ters were now so sorely reduced, that scarcely durst one 
 show his face, unless it were to the moon and stars of 
 heaven. A striking instance of this I may here relate 
 by the way, as jt happened on the very day to which my 
 tale has conducted me. 
 
 A poor wanderer, named, I think, Matthew Douglas, 
 had skulked about these mountains, chiefly in a wild 
 glen, called the Caldron, ever since the battle of Both- 
 well-bridge. He had made several narrow, and, as he 
 thought, most providential escapes, but was at length 
 quite overcome by famine, cold, and watching ; and find- 
 ing his end approaching, he crept by night into a poor 
 widow's house at Rennelburn, whose name, if my infor- 
 mer is not mistaken, was Ann Hyslop. Ann was not a 
 Cameronian, but being of a gentle and humane disposi- 
 tion, she received the dying man kindly watched, and 
 even wept over him, administering to all his wants. But 
 the vital springs of life were exhausted and dried up : He 
 died on the second day after his arrival, and was buried 
 
OF BODSBECK. 87 
 
 with great privacy, by night, in the churchyard at 
 Westerkirk. 
 
 Sir James Johnston had been a zealous Covenanter, 
 and at first refused the test with great indignation ; but 
 seeing the dangerous ground on which he stood, and that 
 his hand was on the lion's mane, he renounced these prin- 
 ciples ; and, to render his apostasy effective, became for 
 a time a most violent distresser of his former friends. 
 He knew at this time that Clavers was coming round ; 
 and in order to ingratiate himself with him, he had for 
 several days been raging up and down the country like a 
 roaring lion, as they termed it. It came to his ears what 
 Ann Hyslop had done ; whereon, pretending great rage, 
 he went with his party to the burial ground, digged the 
 body out of the grave, and threw it over the churchyard 
 wall for beasts of prey to devour. Forthwith he proceed- 
 ed to Rennelburn plundered the house of Ann Hyslop, 
 and then burnt it to ashes ; but herself he could not find, 
 for she had previously absconded. Proceeding to the 
 boundary of the county, he met and welcomed Clavers 
 to his assistance, breathing nothing but revenge against all 
 non-conformists, and those of his own district in particular. 
 
 Clavers knew mankind well. He perceived the moving 
 cause of all this, and did not appear so forward and hearty 
 in the business as Sir James expected. He resolved to 
 ravage Eskdale, but to manage matters so that the whole 
 blame might fall on Johnston. This he effected so com- 
 pletely, that he made that knight to be detested there as 
 long as he lived, and his memory to be abhorred after his 
 decease. He found him forward in the cause ; and still 
 the more so that he appeared to be, the more shy and 
 backward was Clavers, appearing to consent to every thing 
 with reluctance. They condemned the stocks of sheep 
 on Fingland and the Casways on very shallow grounds. 
 Clavers proposed to spare them ; but Sir James swore that 
 they should not be spared, that their owners might learn 
 the value of conventicles. 
 
 " Well, well," said Clavers, "since you will have it 
 so, let them be driven off." 
 
88 THE BROWNIE 
 
 In this manner they proceeded down that unhappy 
 dale, and at Craikhaugh, by sheer accident, lighted on 
 Andrew Hyslop, son to the widow of Rennelburn above- 
 mentioned. Johnston apprehended him, cursed, threat- 
 ened, and gnashed his teeth at him with perfect rage. 
 He was a beautiful youth, only nineteen years of age. 
 On his examination, it appeared that he had not been at 
 home, nor had any hand in sheltering the deceased ; but 
 he knew, he said, that his mother had done so, and in 
 doing it, had done well ; and he was satisfied that act of 
 her's would be appro ven of in the eye of the Almighty. 
 
 Clavers asked, " Have you ever attended the field con- 
 venticles ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have you ever preached yourself?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Do you think that you could preach ?" 
 
 " I am sure I <could not.' 7 
 
 " I'll be bound but you can pray then," said he. 
 
 He then proffered him his liberty if he would confess 
 that his mother had done wrong, but this he would in no 
 wise do ; for, he said, it would be a sinful and shameful 
 lie, he being convinced that his mother had done what 
 was her duty, and the duty of every Christian to do 
 towards his fellow creatures. 
 
 Johnston swore he should be shot. Clavers hesitated, 
 and made some objections ; but the other persisting, as 
 Clavers knew he would, the latter consented, as formerly, 
 saying, " Well, well, since you will have it so, let it be 
 done -his blood be on your head, I am free of it. Daniel 
 Roy Macpherson, draw up your file, and put the sentence 
 in execution.'' 
 
 Hyslop kneeled down. They bade him put on his 
 bonnet, and draw it over his eyes ; but this he calmly 
 refused, saying, " He had done nothing of which he was 
 ashamed, and could look on his murderers and to Heaven 
 without dismay." 
 
 When Macpherson heard this, and looked at him as 
 he kneeled on the ground with his bands pinioned, his 
 
OF BODSBECK. 89 
 
 beautiful young face turned toward the sky, and his long 
 fair ringlets hanging waving backward, his heart melted 
 within him, and the great tears had for some time been 
 hopping down his cheeks. When Clavers gave the word 
 of command to shoot the youth, Macpherson drew up his 
 men in a moment wheeled them off at the side pre- 
 sented arms and then answered the order of the general 
 as follows, in a voice that was quite choked one while, 
 and came forth in great volleys at another ." Now, Cot 
 t n sh sh she'll rather pe fighting Clavers and all 
 her draghoons, pe pe pefore she'll pe killing tat dear 
 good lhad." 
 
 Captain Bruce burst out into a horse-laugh, leaping 
 and clapping his hands on hearing such a singular reply ; 
 even Clavers had much ado to suppress a smile, which, 
 however, he effected by uttering a horrible curse. 
 
 " I had forgot, Sir James," said he ; " Macpherson is 
 as brave a man as ever strode on a field of battle ; but 
 in domestic concerns, he has the heart of a chicken." 
 
 He then ordered four of his own guards to shoot him, 
 which they executed in a moment. Some of his acquain- 
 tances being present, they requested permission of Cla- 
 vers to bury him, which he readily granted, and he was 
 interred on the very spot where he feh 1 . A grave-stone 
 was afterwards erected over him, which is still to be seen 
 at Craikhaugh, near the side of the road, a little to the 
 north of the Church of Eskdale-muir. 
 
 Clavers and his prisoner lodged at Westeraw that night. 
 Johnston wanted to have him shot ; but to this Clavers 
 objected, though rather in a jocular manner. 
 
 Walter said, he was sure if Sir James had repeated his 
 request another time, that Clavers' answer would have 
 been, " Well, well, since you will have it so," &c. ; but, 
 fortunately for Walter, he desisted just in time. 
 
 These two redoubted champions continued their pro- 
 gress all next day ; and on the third, at evening, Clavers 
 crossed Dryfe, with nine thousand sheep, three hundred 
 goats, and about as many cattle and horses, in his train, 
 taken from the people of Eskdale alone. He took care 
 
90 THE BROWNIE 
 
 to herry Sir James's tenants, in particular, of every thing 
 they possessed, and apparently all by their laird's desire, so 
 that very little of the blame attached to the general. He 
 was heard to say to Sir Thomas Livingston that night, 
 " I trow, we hae left the silly turn-coat a pirn to wind." 
 But we must now leave them to continue their route 
 of rapine and devastation, and return to the distressed 
 family of Chapelhope, in order that we may watch the 
 doings of the Brownie of Bodsbeck. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 FOE all Maron Linton's grievous distresses, the arrival 
 of Clerk, the curate, proved an antidote of no small avail. 
 It was a great comfort to her, in the midst of her afflic- 
 tions ; and after she had been assured by him of Walter's 
 perfect safety, she became apparently more happy, and 
 certainly more loquacious, than she had been for a great 
 while byegone. She disclosed to him the dreadful secret, 
 that her child was possessed of an evil spirit, and implo- 
 red his influence with Heaven, and his power with hell, 
 for its removal. This lie readily undertook, on condi- 
 tion of being locked up with the maiden for a night, or 
 two at most. She was to be left solely to his manage- 
 ment ; without the interference of any other human 
 being ; and with the help only of the Bible, the lamp, 
 and the hour-glass, he declared that he would drive the 
 .unclean spirit from its tabernacle of clay. 
 
 To these conditions Maron Linton gladly assented ; 
 and, with grateful and fond acknowledgments, called him 
 their benefactor and spiritual guide, their deliverer and 
 shield ; but he checked her, and said, there was still one 
 condition more on which she behoved to condescend. It 
 was likely that he might be under the hard necessity of 
 using some violent measures in exorcising her, for it 
 
OF BODSBECK. 91 
 
 would be hard to drive the malignant spirit from so sweet 
 a habitation ; but whatever noises might be heard, no 
 one was to interfere, or even listen, upon pain of being 
 delivered up to the foul spirit, soul and body; and it was 
 ten to one that any who was so imprudent as to intrude 
 on these awful and mysterious rites, might be torn in 
 pieces. 
 
 Maron blest herself from all interference, and gave 
 Nanny directions to the same purport ; as for the two 
 boys, they slept out of hearing. She likewise gave him 
 the key, that he might lock both the doors of the Old 
 Room in the inside, and thus prevent all intrusions, 
 should any be offered. He said prayers in the family, 
 to which Katharine was admitted ; and then taking the 
 lamp and the hour-glass in his hand, and the Bible below 
 his arm, he departed into the Old Room, where, in about 
 half an hour afterwards, the maiden was summoned to 
 attend him. He took her respectfully by the hand, and 
 seated her on a chair at the side of the bed, saying that 
 he was commissioned by her worthy mother to hold a little 
 private conversation with her. Then locking the door, 
 and putting the key in his pocket, he added, " You are 
 my prisoner for this night, but be not alarmed ; I have 
 undertaken to drive an evil spirit away from you, but 
 both my exorcisms and orisons shall be adapted to the 
 feelings of a young maiden, and as agreeable to one 
 whom I so much admire, as it is in my power to make 
 them." 
 
 Katharine grew as pale as death as he uttered these 
 words, placing himself at the same time cordially by her side. 
 
 It is unmeet to relate the conversation that ensued ; 
 but the worthy curate soon showed off in his true colours, 
 and with unblushing front ventured a proposal that shock- 
 ed the innocent and modest Katharine so much, that she 
 could only reply to it by holding up her hands, and utter- 
 ing a loud exclamation of astonishment. His further 
 procedure soon convinced her, that she was in the hands 
 of a man who was determined to take every advantage 
 of the opportunity thus unwarrantably afforded him, and 
 
92 THE BROWNIE 
 
 to stick at no atrocity for the accomplishment of his pur- 
 poses. 
 
 She neither descended to tears nor entreaties, but re- 
 sisted all his approaches with a firmness and dignity that 
 he never conceived to have formed any part of her cha- 
 racter ; and, when continuing to press her hand, she said 
 to him, " You had better keep your distance, Mass John 
 Clerk, and consider what befits your character, and the 
 confidence reposed in you by my unsuspecting parent ; 
 but I tell you, if you again presume to touch me, though 
 it were but with one of your fingers, I will, in a moment, 
 bring those out of the chink of the wall, or from under 
 that hearth, that shall lay you motionless at my feet in 
 the twinkling of an eye, or bear you off to any part of 
 the creation that I shall name." 
 
 He smiled as she said this, and was about to turn it 
 into a jest ; but on looking at her face, he perceived that 
 there was not one trait of jocularity in it. It beamed 
 with a mystical serenity which sent a chilness through 
 his whole frame ; and, for the first time, he deemed her 
 deranged, or possessed in some manner, he wist not how. 
 Staunch, however, to his dishonourable purpose, he be- 
 came so unequivocal, that she was obliged to devise some 
 means of attaining a temporary cessation ; and feigning 
 to hesitate on his proposal, she requested a minute or two 
 to speak. 
 
 " I am but young, Mass John," said she, " and have 
 no experience in the ways of the world ; and it seems, 
 from what you have advanced, that I attach more import- 
 ance to some matters than they deserve. But I beg of 
 you to give me a little time to reflect on the proposal 
 you have made. See that hourglass is half run out 
 already : I only ask of you not to disturb or importune 
 me until it- run out a second time." 
 
 " And do you then promise to do as I request ?" said he. 
 
 " I do," returned she, " provided you still continue of 
 the same mind as you are now." 
 
 " My mind is made up," said he, " and my resolution 
 taken in all that relates to you ; nevertheless, it would 
 
OF BODSBECK. 93 
 
 be hard to refuse a maid so gentle and modest a request 
 I grant it and should you attempt to break off your 
 engagement at the expiry of the time, it shall be the 
 worse for you." 
 
 "Be it so," replied she : "in the mean time let me be 
 undisturbed till then." And so saying, she arose and 
 went aside to the little table where the Bible and the 
 lamp were placed, and began with great seriousness to 
 search out, and peruse parts of the sacred volume. 
 
 Clerk liked not this contemplative mood, and tried 
 every wile in his power to draw her attention from the 
 Scriptures. He sought out parts which he desired her 
 to read, if she would read ; but from these she turned 
 away without deigning to regard them, and gently re- 
 minded him that he had broken one of his conditions. 
 " Maids only impose such conditions on men," said he, 
 " as they desire should be broken." At this she regarded 
 him with a look of ineffable contempt, and continued to 
 read on hi her Bible. 
 
 The hour of midnight was now passed, the sand had 
 nearly run out for the second time since the delay had 
 been acceded to, and Clerk had been for a while tapping 
 the glass on the side, and shaking it, to make it empty 
 its contents the sooner. Katharine likewise began to 
 eye it with looks that manifested some degree of pertur- 
 bation : she clasped the Bible, and sate still in one posi- 
 tion, as If listening attentively for some sound or signal. 
 The worthy curate at length held the hourglass up be- 
 tween her eye and the burning lamp, the last lingering 
 pile of sand fell reluctantly out as he shook it in that po- 
 sition, anxiety and suspense settled more deeply on 
 the lovely and serene face of Katharine ; but instead of 
 a flexible timidity, it assumed an air of sternness. At 
 that instant the cock crew, she started, heaved a deep 
 sigh, like 6ne that feels a sudden relief from pain, and a 
 beam of joy shed its radiance over her countenance. 
 Clerk was astonished, he could not divine the source or 
 cause of her emotions, but judging from his own corrupt 
 heart, he judged amiss. True however to his point, he 
 
94 THE BROWNIE 
 
 reminded her of her promise, and claimed its fulfilment. 
 She deigned no reply to his threats or promises, but 
 kept her eye steadfastly fixed on another part of the room. 
 He bade her remember that he was not to be mocked, 
 and in spite of her exertions, he lifted her up in his 
 arms, and carried her across the room towards the bed. 
 She uttered a loud scream, and in a moment the outer- 
 door that entered from the bank was opened, and a be- 
 ing of such unearthly dimensions entered, as no pen may 
 ever wholly define. It was the Brownie of Bodsbeck, 
 sometimes mentioned before, small of stature, and its 
 whole form utterly mis-shaped. Its beard was long and 
 grey, while its look, and every lineament of its face, were 
 indicative of agony its locks were thin, dishevelled, and 
 white, and its back hunched up behind its head. There 
 seemed to be more of the same species of hagard beings 
 lingering behind at the door, but this alone advanced 
 with a slow majestic pace. Mass John uttered two in- 
 voluntary cries, somewhat resembling the shrill bellow- 
 ings of an angry bull, mixed with inarticulate mumblings, 
 sunk powerless on the floor, and, with a deep shiver- 
 ing groan, fainted away. Katharine, stretching forth 
 her hands, flew to meet her unearthly guardian ; 
 " Welcome, my watchful and redoubted Brownie," said 
 she ; " thou art well worthy to be the familiar to an 
 empress, rather than an insignificant country maiden." 
 
 " Brownie's here, Brownie's there, 
 Brownie's with thee every where," 
 
 said the dwarfish spirit, and led her off in triumph. 
 
 Having bethought herself after she went out, she re- 
 turned lightly, took the keys from the pocket of the for- 
 lorn priest, extinguished the lamp, and again disappeared, 
 locking the door on the outside. 
 
 Mass John's trance threw him into a heavy and per- 
 turbed slumber, which overpowered him for a long space ; 
 and even after he awaked, it was long before he could 
 fathom the circumstances of his case, for he imagined he 
 liad only been in a frightful and oppressive dream ; till, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 95 
 
 beginning to grope about, he discovered that he was ly- 
 ing on the damp floor with his clothes on ; and at length, 
 without opening his eyes, he recovered by degrees his 
 reasoning faculties, and was able to retrace the circum- 
 stances that led to his present situation. He arose in 
 great dismay the daylight had begun to shine into the 
 room, and finding that both doors were locked, he deem- 
 ed it unadvisable to make any noise, and threw himself 
 upon the bed. The retrospect of his adventure was 
 fraught with shame and astonishment. He had acted a 
 considerable part in it, but he had dreamed of a great 
 deal more, and with all his ingenuity he could not sepa- 
 rate in his mind the real incidents from those that were 
 imaginary. He arose with the sun, and rapped gently 
 at the inner-door, which, to his still farther astonishment, 
 was opened by Katharine, in her usual neat and cleanly 
 morning dress. He stared in her face, to mark if he 
 could read any meaning in it : he could distinguish none 
 that spoke a language to him either good or bad; it was 
 a face of calm decent serenity, and wore no shade of 
 either shame nor anger somewhat paler than it was the 
 evening before, but still as lovely as ever. The curate 
 seemed gasping for breath, but not having courage to 
 address her, he walked forth to the open air. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning in September ; the ground 
 was covered with a slight "hoar frost, and a cloud of light 
 haze (or, as the country people call it, the blue ouder,) 
 slept upon the long valley of water, and reached nearly 
 midway up the hills. The morning sun shone full upon 
 it, making it appear like an ocean of silvery down. It 
 vanished by imperceptible degrees into the clear blue 
 firmament, and was succeeded by a warm sun and a 
 southerly breeze. It was such a morning as could not 
 fail to cheer and re-animate every heart and frame, not 
 wholly overcome by guilt and disease Clerk's were 
 neither he was depraved of heart, but insensible to the 
 evil of such a disposition ; he had, moreover, been a 
 hanger-on from his youth upward, and had an effrontery 
 not to be outfaced. Of course, by the time he had 
 
96 THE BROWNIE 
 
 finished a three-hours' walk, he felt himself so much re- 
 freshed and invigorated in mind, that he resolved not to 
 expose himself to the goodwife, who was his principal 
 stay and support among his straggled and dissatisfied 
 flock, by a confession of the dreadful fright he had got- 
 ten, but to weather out the storm with as lofty and saint- 
 ly a deportment as he could. 
 
 He had not well gone out when the lad of Kepplegill 
 arrived, and delivered to Katharine her father's letter. 
 She saw the propriety of the injunction which it bore, 
 and that an immediate application to their laird, Drumel- 
 zier, who was then high in trust and favour with the par- 
 ty in power, was the likeliest of all ways to procure her 
 father's relief, neither durst she trust the mission to any 
 but herself. But ah ! there was a concealed weight that 
 pressed upon her spirit a secret circumstance that com- 
 pelled her to stay at home, and which could not be revealed 
 to mortal ear. Her father's fate was at present uncertain 
 and ticklish, but that secret once revealed, tortures, death, 
 and ruin were inevitable the doom of the whole family 
 was sealed. She knew not what to do, for she had none 
 to advise with. There was but one on earth to whom 
 this secret could be imparted ; indeed there was but one 
 in whose power it was to execute the trust which the 
 circumstances of the case required, and that was old Nanny, 
 who was crazed, fearless, and altogether inscrutable. 
 Another trial, however, of her religious principles, and 
 adherence to the established rules of church government 
 in the country, was absolutely necessary ; and to that 
 trial our young and mysterious heroine went with all 
 possible haste, as well as precaution. 
 
 Whosoever readeth this must paint to themselves old 
 Nanny, and they must paint her aright, with her thin fan- 
 tastic form and antiquated dress, bustling up and down 
 the house. Her fine stock of bannocks had been all ex- 
 hausted the troopers and their horses had left nothing 
 in her master's house that could either be eaten or con- 
 veniently carried away. She had been early astir, as 
 well as her sedate and thoughtful young dame, had been 
 
OF BODSBECK. 97 
 
 busy all the morning, and the whole time her tongue never 
 at rest. She had been singing one while, speaking to 
 herself another, and every now and then intermixing bit- 
 ter reflections on Clavers and his troops. 
 
 " Wae be to them for a pack o' greedy gallayniels 
 they haena the mence of a miller's yaud ; for though 
 she'll stap her nose into every body's pock, yet when 
 she's fou she'll carry naething wi' her. Heichow ! wae's 
 me, that I sude hae lived to see the day ! That ever I 
 sude hae lived to see the colehood take the laverock's place ; 
 and the stanchel and the merlin chatterin' frae the cushat's 
 nest 1 Ah ! wae's me ! will the sweet voice o' the turtle- 
 doo be nae mair heard in our land ! There was a time 
 when I sat on the bonny green brae an' listened to it till 
 the tears dreepit frae my een, an' a' the hairs o' my head 
 stood on end ! The hairs o' my head ? Ay, that's nae 
 lie ! They're grey now, an' will soon be snaw- white if 
 heart's care can alter them ; but they will never be sae 
 white as his war. I saw the siller-grey lock o' age, an' 
 the manly curls o' youth wavin' at my side that day ! 
 But where are they now ? A' mouled ! a' mouled ! 
 But the druckit blood winna let them rot ! I'll see them 
 rise fresh an' bonny ! I'll look round to my right hand 
 and ane will say, ' Mother ! my dear mother, are you he$e 
 with us ?' I'll turn to my left hand, another will say, ' Nan- 
 ny ! my dear and faithful wife, are you too here with us ?' 
 I'll say, ' Ay, John, I'm here ; I was yours in life ; I 
 have been yours in death ; an* I'll be yours in life again.' 
 Dear bairn, dear bairn, are you there," continued she, 
 observing Katharine standing close behind her ; " what 
 was I saying, or where was I at ? I little wat outher what 
 I was saying or doing. Hout ay ; I was gaun ower some 
 auld things, but they're a' like a dream, an' when I get 
 amang them I'm hardly mysel. Dear bairn, ye maunna 
 mind an auld crazy body's reveries." 
 
 There was some need for this apology, if Nanny's frame, 
 air, and attitude, are taken into account. She was stand- 
 ing with her back to the light, mixing meal with water, 
 whereof to make bread her mutch, or night-bussing, as 
 
08 THE BROWNFE 
 
 she called it, was tied close down over her cheeks and 
 brow as usual ; her grey locks hanging dishevelled from 
 under it ; and as she uttered the last sentence, immediate- 
 ly before noticing her young mistress, her thin mealy hands 
 were stretched upwards, her head and body bent back, 
 and her voice like one in a paroxysm. Katharine quaked, 
 although well accustomed to scenes of no ordinary nature. 
 
 " Nanny," said she, " there is something that preys 
 upon your spirit some great calamity that recurs to your 
 memory, and goes near to unhinge your tranquillity of 
 mind, if not your reason. Will you inform me of it, 
 good Nanny, that I may talk and sympathize with you 
 over it ?" 
 
 " Dear bairn, nae Ipss ava >A' profit ! a' profit i' the 
 main ! I haena biggit a bield o' the windlestrae, nor lip- 
 pened my weight to a broken reed ! Na, na, dear bairn ; 
 nae loss ava." 
 
 " But, Nanny, I have overheard you in your most 
 secret hours, in your prayers and self-examinations." 
 
 At the mention of this Nanny turned about, and after 
 a wild searching stare in her young mistress's face, while 
 every nerve of her frame seemed to shrink from the re- 
 collection of the disclosures she feared she had made, she 
 answered as follows, in a deep and tremulous tone : 
 
 " That was atween God and me 'There was neither 
 language nor sound there for the ear o' flesh ! It was 
 unfair ! It was unfair ! Ye are mistress here, and ye 
 keep the keys o' the aumbry, the kitchen, the ha', an' the 
 hale house ; but wi' the secret keys o' the heart and con- 
 science ye hae naething to do ! the keys o' the sma'est 
 portal that leads to heaven or hell are nane o' yours ; 
 therefore, what ye hae done was unfair. If I chose, sin- 
 ful and miserable as I am, to converse with my God about 
 the dead as if they war living, an' of the living as if they 
 war dead, what's that to you ? Or if I likit to take coun- 
 sel of that which exists only in my own mind, is the rackle 
 hand o' steelrife power to make a handle o' that to grind 
 the very hearts of the just and the good, or turn the poor 
 wasted frame o' eild and resignation on the wheel ? Lack- 
 
OF BODSBECK. 99 
 
 a-day, my dear bairn, I'm lost again ! Ye canna an' ye 
 maunna forgie me now. Walth's dear, an' life's dearer 
 but sin' it maun be sae, twal o'clock sanna find me a- 
 neath your roof there shall naebody suffer for harbouring 
 poor auld Nanny she has seen better days, an' she hopes 
 to see better anes again ; but it's lang sin' the warld's 
 weel an' the warld's wae came baith to her alike. I maun 
 e'en bid ye fareweel, my bonny bairn, but I maun 
 tell ye ere I gae that ye're i' the braid way. Ye hae 
 some good things about ye, and O, it is a pity that a dear 
 sweet soul should be lost for want o' light to direct I How 
 can a dear bairn find the right way wi' its een tied up V 
 But I maun baud my tongue an' leave ye I wad fain 
 greet, but I hae lost the gate o't, for the fountain-head 
 has been lang run dry Weel, weel it's a' ower ! nae 
 mair about it How's this the auld sang gaes ? 
 
 When the well runs dry then the rain is nigh, 
 
 The heavens o' earth maun borrow, 
 An' the streams that stray thro' the wastes the day, 
 
 May sail aboon the morrow. 
 
 Then dinna greet, my bonny bird, 
 
 I downa bide to hear ye ; 
 The storm may blaw, and the rain may fa', 
 
 But nouther sal come near ye. 
 
 There's an eye that sees, there's an arm uprears, 
 
 There's an ear that hears our mourning, 
 There's an edict pass'd out frae the sky, 
 
 From which there's no returning. 
 
 Then dinna greet for the day that's gane, 
 
 Nor on the present ponder, 
 For thou shalt sing on the laverock's wiug, 
 
 An' far away beyond her." 
 
 This Nanny sung to an air so soothing, and at the 
 same time so melancholy, it was impossible to listen to 
 her unaffected, especially as she herself was affected in 
 a very peculiar manner a beam of wild delight glan- 
 cing in her eye, but it was like the joy of grief, (if one 
 may be allowed the expression,) if not actually the joy 
 of madness. Nothing could be more interesting than 
 
100 THE BROWNIE 
 
 her character was now to the bewildered Katharine it 
 arose to her eyes, and grew on her mind like a vision. 
 She had been led previously to regard her as having been 
 crazed from her birth, and her songs arid chaunts to be 
 mere ravings of fancy, strung in rhymes to suit favourite 
 airs, or old scraps of ballads -void of meaning, that she 
 had learned in her youth. But there was a wild ele- 
 gance at times in her manner of thinking and expression 
 a dash of sublimity that was inconsistent with such an idea. 
 "Is it possible," (thus reasoned the maiden with her- 
 self,) " that this demeanour can be the effect of great 
 worldly trouble and loss ? Perhaps she is bereft of all 
 those who were near and dear to her in life is left alone 
 as it were in this world, and has lost a relish for ail its 
 concerns, while her whole hope, heart, and mind, is fix- 
 ed on a home above, to which all her thoughts, dreams, 
 and even her ravings insensibly turn, and to which the 
 very songs and chaunts of her youthful days are model- 
 led anew. If such is really her case, how I could sym- 
 pathize with her in all her feelings !" 
 
 " Nanny," said she, "how wofully you misapprehend 
 me ; I came to exchange burdens of heart and conscience 
 with you to confide in you, and love you : Why will 
 not you do the same with me, and tell me what loss it is 
 that you seem to bewail night and day, and what affecting 
 theme it is that thus puts you beside yourself? If I 
 judge not far amiss, the knowledge of this is of greater 
 import to my peace than aught in the world beside, and 
 will lead to a secret from me that deeply concerns us 
 both." 
 
 Nanny's suspicions were aroused, not laid, by this 
 speech ; she eyed her young mistress steadfastly for a 
 while, smiled, and shook her head. 
 
 " Sae young, sae bonny, and yet sae cunning !" said 
 she. " Judas coudna hae sic a face, but he had nouther 
 a fairer tongue nor a fauser heart ! A secret frae you, 
 dear bairn ! what secret can come frae you, but some bit 
 waefu' love story, enough to mak the pinks an' the ewe 
 gowans blush to the very lip ? My heart's wae for ye, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 101 
 
 ae way an' a' ways ; but it's a part of your curse wo- 
 man sinned an 7 woman maun suffer her hale life is but 
 a succession o' shame, degradation, and suffering, frae 
 her cradle till her grave." 
 
 Katharine was dumb for a space, for reasoning with 
 Nanny was out of the question. 
 
 " You may one day rue this misprision of my motives, 
 Nanny,' 7 rejoined she ; "* in the mean time, I am obliged 
 to leave home, on an express that concerns my father's 
 life and fortune ; be careful of my mother until my re- 
 turn, and of every thing about the house, for the charge 
 of all must devolve for a space on you." 
 
 " That I will, dear bairn the thing that Nanny has 
 ta'en in hand sanna be neglected, if her twa hands can 
 do it, and her auld crazed head comprehend it." 
 
 " But, first, tell me, and tell me seriously, Nanny, are 
 you subject to any apprehension or terror on account of 
 spirits ?" 
 
 " Nae mair feared for them than I am for you, an' no 
 half sae muckle, wi' your leave. Spirits, quoth I ! 
 
 Little misters it to me 
 Whar they gang, or whar they ride ; 
 Round the hillock, on the lea, 
 Round the auld borral tree, 
 Or bourock by the burn side ; 
 Deep within the bogle-howe, 
 Wi' his haftats in a lowe, 
 Wons the waefu* 
 
 " Ah ! noble Cleland ! it is like his wayward freaks 
 an 7 whimsies ! Did ye never hear it, you that speaks 
 about spirits as they war your door neighbours ? It's a 
 clever thing ; his sister sung it ; I think, it rins this gate 
 hum ! but then the dialogue comes in, and it is sae 
 kamshachle I canna word it, though I canna say it's mis- 
 leared either." 
 
 " Dear Nanny, that is far from my question. You 
 fcay you are nothing afraid of spirits ?" 
 
 " An' why should I? If they be good spirits, they 
 12 
 
102 THE BROWNIE 
 
 will do me nae ill ; and if they be evil spirits, they hae 
 nae power here. Thinkna ye that He that takes care o' 
 me throughout the day, is as able to do it by night ? Na, 
 na, dear bairn, I hae contendit wi' the warst o' a' spirits 
 face to face, hand to hand, and breast to breast ; ay, an' 
 for a' his power, an' a' his might, I dang him ; and pack- 
 ed him off baffled and shamed ! Little reason hae I to 
 be feared for ony o' his black emissaries." 
 
 " Should one appear to you bodily, would you be 
 nothing distracted or frightened?" 
 
 " In my own strength I could not stand it, but yet I 
 would stand it." 
 
 " That gives me joy. Then, Nanny, list to me : You 
 will assuredly see one in my absence ; and you must 
 take good heed to my directions, and act precisely as 1 
 bid you." 
 
 Nanny gave up her work, and listened in suspense. 
 " Then it is a' true that the fock says !" said she, with a 
 long-drawn sigh. " His presence be about us !" 
 
 " How sensibly you spoke just now ! Where is your 
 faith fled already ? I tell you there will one appear to 
 you every night in my absence, precisely on the first 
 crowing of the cock, about an hour after midnight, and 
 you must give him every thing that he asks, else 
 it may fare the worse with you, and all about the 
 house." 
 
 Nanny's limbs were unable to support her weight 
 they trembled under her. * She sat down on a form, 
 leaned her brow upon both hands, and recited the 63d 
 Psalm from beginning to end in a fervent tone. 
 
 " I wasna prepared for this," said she. " I fear, 
 though my faith may stand it, my wits will not. Dear, 
 dear bairn, is there nae way to get aff frae sic a trial !" 
 
 " There is only one, which is fraught with danger of 
 another sort ; but were I sure that I could trust you 
 with it, all might be well, and you would rest free from 
 any intercourse with that unearthly visitant, of whom it 
 seems you are so much in terror." 
 
 " For my own sake ye may trust me there : Ony 
 
OF BODSBECK. 103 
 
 thing but a bogle face to face at midnight, an' me a' my 
 lane. It is right wonderfu', though I ken I'll soon be 
 in a warld o' spirits, an' that I maun mingle an' mool wi' 
 them for ages, how the nature within me revolts at a' 
 communion wi' them here. Dear bairn, gie me your 
 other plan, an' trust me for my own sake." 
 
 " It is this but if you adopt it, for your life an' soul 
 let no one in this place know of it but yourself : It is 
 to admit one or two of the fugitive whigs, these people 
 that skulk and pray about the mountains, privily into the 
 house every night, until my return. If you will give 
 me any test of your secrecy and truth, I will find ways 
 and means of bringing them to you, which will effectual- 
 ly bar all intrusion of bogle or Brownie on your quiet ; 
 or should any such dare to appear, they will deal with it 
 themselves." 
 
 " An' can the presence o' ane o' them do this?" said 
 Nanny, starting up and speaking in a loud eldrich voice. 
 " Then Heaven and hell acknowledges it, an' the earth 
 maun soon do the same ! I knew it ! I knew it ! I 
 knew it ! ha, ha, ha, I knew it ! Ah ! John, thou art 
 safe ! Ay ! an' mae than thee ; an' there will be mae 
 yet ! It is but a day ! an' dark an' dismal though it be, the 
 change will be the sweeter ! Blessed, blessed be the day ! 
 None can say of thee that thou died like a fool, for thy 
 hands were not bound, nor thy feet put into fetters." 
 Then turning close round to Katharine, with an expres- 
 sion of countenance quite indescribable, she added in a 
 quick maddened manner, " Eh ? Thou seekest a test 
 of me, dost thou ? Can blood do it ? Can martyrdom 
 do it '? Can bonds, wounds, tortures, and mockery do it ? 
 Can death itself do it ? All these have /suffered for 
 that cause in this same -body ; mark that ; for there is 
 but one half of my bone and my flesh here. But words 
 are nothing to the misbelieving mere air mouthed into 
 a sound. Look at this for a test of my sincerity and 
 truth." So saying, she gave her hand a wild brandish in 
 the air, darted it at her throat, and snapping the tie of her 
 cap that she had always worn over her face, she snatched 
 
104 THE BROWNIE 
 
 it off, and turning her cheek round to her young mistress, 
 added, " Look there for your test, and if that is not 
 enough, I will give you more !" 
 
 Katharine was struck dumb with astonishment and 
 horror. She saw that her ears were cut out close to the 
 skull, and a C. R. indented on her cheek with a hot iron, 
 as deep as the jaw-bone. She burst out a crying clasped 
 the old enthusiast in her arms kissed the wound and 
 steeped it with her tears, and without one further remark, 
 led her away to the Old Room, that they might converse 
 without interruption. 
 
 The sequel of this disclosure turned not out as desired ; 
 but this we must leave by the way, until we overtake it 
 in the regular course of the narrative. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 As soon as her father's letter was put into her hands, 
 Katharine sent off one of her brothers to Muchrah, to 
 warn old John and his son to come instantly to Chapelhope. 
 They both arrived while she and Nanny were consulting 
 in the Old Room. She told them of her father's letter, 
 of the jeopardy he was in, and of her intended application 
 to Drummelzier without loss of time. " One of you," 
 said she, " must accompany me ; and I sent for you both, 
 to learn which could, with least inconvenience, be wanted 
 from your flocks." 
 
 '* As for me," said John, "it's out o' the question to 
 think about me winning away. The ewes wad gang wi' 
 the bit hog-fence o' the Quave Brae, stoup and roup. 
 What wi' ghaists, brownies, dead men, an' ae mischief an' 
 other, it is maistly gane already ; an' what's to come o' 
 the poor bits o' plottin baggits a' winter, is mair nor I can 
 tell. They may pike the woo aff ane another for aught 
 that I see." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 105 
 
 Katharine was grieved to hear this remonstrance, for she 
 was desirous of having old John as a guide and protector, 
 who well knew the way, and was besides singular for 
 strength and courage, if kept among beings of this world. 
 She represented to him that the hog-fence of the Quave- 
 Brae, could not possibly be of equal importance with his 
 master's life, nor yet with the loss of his whole stock, both 
 of sheep and cattle, which might be confiscated, if prompt 
 measures were not adopted. Nothing, however, could per- 
 suade John, that ought could be of equal importance to him 
 with that which he had the charge of, and on which his 
 heart and attention were so much set both by day and 
 night. He said he had lost his lugs, and been brunt wi' 
 the king's birn, for the hog-fence of the Quave-Brae; 
 and when he coudna get away to the prison at Edinburgh 
 for fear o't, but suffered sae muckle in place o' that, how 
 could he win away a' the gate to Dunse Castle ? 
 
 Jasper liked not the journey more than he ; for being 
 convinced of Katharine's power over spirits, he was very 
 jealous of her taking undue advantages of him, but he 
 was obliged to submit. He refused a horse, saying " it 
 would only taigle him, but if she suffered him to gang on 
 his feet, if he was hindmost at Dunse, he should gie her 
 leave to cut the lugs out o' his head too, and then he 
 wad hae the thief s mark on him like his father." 
 
 Away they went ; she riding on a stout shaggy poney, 
 and Jasper running before her barefoot, but with his hose 
 and slioon bound over his shoulder. He took the straight 
 line for Dunse, over hill and dale, as a shepherd always 
 does, who hates the wimples, as he calls them, of a turn- 
 pike. He took such a line as an eagle would take, or a 
 flock of wild geese journeying from the one side of the 
 country to the other, never once reflecting on the incon- 
 venience of riding on such a road. Of course, it was im- 
 possible his young mistress could keep up with him in- 
 deed she had often enough to do in keeping sight of him. 
 They met with some curious adventures by the way, par- 
 ticularly one near Thirlestane castle on Leader, with some 
 stragglers of a troop of soldiers. But these things we 
 
106 THE BROWNIE 
 
 must hurry over as extraneous matter, having nothing 
 more to do with them than as connected with the thread 
 of our tale. They slept that night at a farm-house in 
 Lammermoor, which belonged to Dnimmelzier, and next 
 day by noon arrived at Dunse Castle. 
 
 Drummelzier, being one of the Committee of Public 
 Safety, was absent from home, to which he did not return 
 for several days, to the great perplexity of Katharine, 
 who was in the utmost distress about her father, as well 
 as her affairs at home. She was obliged, however, to wait 
 with patience, as no one knew in what part of the country 
 he was. The housekeeper, who was an Englishwoman, 
 was kind to her, and bade her not be afraid, for that their 
 master had much more power with the government than 
 Claverhouse, the one being a moving spring, and the 
 other only a tool. 
 
 Drummelzier was a bold and determined royalist was, 
 indeed, in high trust with the privy council, and had it 
 in his power to have harassed the country as much, and 
 more, than the greater part of those who did so ; but, for- 
 tunately for that south-east division of Scotland, he was 
 a gentleman of high honour, benevolence, and suavity of 
 manners, and detested any act of injustice or oppression. 
 He by these means contributed materially to the keeping 
 of a large division of Scotland (though as whiggishly in- 
 clined as any part of it, Ayrshire perhaps excepted,) in 
 perfect peace. The very first dash that Clavers made 
 among the Covenanters, while he was as yet only a cap- 
 tain of a company, was into this division of the country 
 over which Drummelzier was appointed to keep an eye, 
 and it was in consequence of his intrepid and decided be- 
 haviour there, that the Duke of York interested himself 
 in his behalf, and procured him the command of a troop 
 of horse. At a place called Bewly, on the confines of 
 Roxburghshire, he surprised a large conventicle about 
 eleven o'clock on a Sabbath morning. Having but a small 
 band, as soon as he appeared a crowd of the hearers gathered 
 round the preacher to defend him, or to further his escape 
 Clavers burst in upon them like a torrent ; killed and 
 
OF BODSBECK. 107 
 
 wounded upwards of an hundred ; took the preacher pris- 
 oner, and all such of the hearers as were the most respec- 
 table in appearance. He would have detained many more 
 had his force been sufficient for his designs, for that very 
 day, about five o'clock in the afternoon, he surprised an- 
 other numerous conventicle, at a place called Helmburn- 
 Linn, in Selkirkshire, where he acted over the same scene 
 that he had done in the morning. The people, it is true, 
 did not get time to rally round their pastor as at the for- 
 mer place, for the first intelligence they had of his approach 
 was from a volley of musketry among them from the top 
 of the linn, which took too sure effect. 
 
 The congregation scattered in a moment; and as 
 there were strong fastnesses near at hand, none were taken 
 prisoners, save some old men, and a number of ladies ; 
 unfortunately all these were ladies of distinction : the 
 preacher likewise was taken, who suffered afterwards. 
 The soldiers related of this man, that when they came 
 upon the crowd, and fired among them, he was in the 
 middle of his afternoon prayer, and all the people stand- 
 ing uncovered around him ; and that for all the shots, 
 and the people flying and falling dead about him, he 
 never so much as paused, nor took down his hands, nor 
 even opened his eyes, but concluded a sentence in the 
 same fervent tone, after they had dragged him from the 
 tent. 
 
 At one or other of these unfortunate conventicles, a 
 part of all the chief families of the Pringles, such as Tor- 
 woodlee, Whitebank, Fairnilie, and others, were taken 
 prisoners ; as well as some of the Scotts of Harden, and 
 the Douglasses of Cavers and Boonjeddart ; rich prizes 
 for Clavers, who bore them all in triumph prisoners to 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 Drummelzier put his whole interest to the stretch to 
 get these leading and respectable families freed from such 
 a disagreeable dilemma, and succeeded in getting the 
 greater part of them set at liberty, on giving securities. 
 From that time forth, there existed a secret jealousy 
 between him and Clavers ; but as their jurisdiction lay 
 
108 THE BROWNIE 
 
 on different sides of the country, they had no further in- 
 terferbnce with one another. 
 
 When Katharine informed him, that his farmer, whom 
 he so much esteemed, was taken away a prisoner, and 
 by whom, he bit his lip, shook his head, and seemed 
 highly incensed. He then questioned her about all the 
 charges against him, and the evidence ; requesting her, 
 at the same time, to tell him the truth, in all its bearings, 
 to the most minute scruple ; and when he had heard all, 
 he said, that his lordship had other motives for this cap- 
 ture besides these. He lost no time in setting about the 
 most coercive measures he could think of, to procvire his 
 liberty. He sent an express to the privy council, and 
 wrote to sundry other gentlemen, whom Katharine knew 
 nothing of; but the destination of Walter being utterly 
 unknown to either of them, the laird was at a loss how- 
 to proceed. 
 
 He gave her, moreover, a bond of security, signed 
 with his name, and without a direction, to a great amount, 
 for her father's appearance at any court, to answer such 
 charges as were brought against him ; and with this she 
 was to haste to the place where her father was a pri- 
 soner, arid present it to the sheriff of the county, or 
 chief magistrate of the burgh of such place, unless it was 
 at Edinburgh, and in that case she was to take no farther 
 care or concern about him. 
 
 She hasted home with her wild guide, where she ar- 
 rived the fourth or fifth day after her departure ; and 
 found, to her astonishment, the Chapelhope deserted by 
 man, woman, and boy ! Not a living creature remained 
 about the steading, but her father's dog and some poultry ! 
 The doors were locked, and the key away ; and, hungry 
 and fatigued as she was, she could find no means of ad- 
 mittance. At length, on looking about, she perceived 
 that the cows were not about the house, nor any where 
 in the corn, and concluding that some one must be 
 herding them, she went up the side of the lake to their 
 wonted walk, nnd found her two brothers attending the 
 cattle. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 101) 
 
 They told her that the town (so they always denomi- 
 nate a farm-steading in that district,) had been so griev- 
 ously haunted in her absence, both by Brownie and a 
 ghost, that they were all obliged to leave it ; that their 
 mother was gone all the way to Gilmanscleuch to her 
 brother, to remain there until she saw what became of 
 her husband ; Mass John was taken away by the fairies ; 
 and old Nanny was at Riskinhope, where they were also 
 residing and sleeping at night; that the keys of the 
 house were to be had there, but nothing would induce 
 Nanny to come back again to Chapelhope, or at least to 
 remain another night under its roof. 
 
 One mischief came thus upon poor Katharine after 
 another ; and she was utterly unable to account for this 
 piece of intelligence, having been satisfied when she went 
 away, that she had put every thing in train to secure 
 peace and order about the house, until her return. She 
 rode to Riskinhope for the key, but not one would ac- 
 company her home, poor Nanny being lying moaning 
 upon a bed. Jasper sat on the side of the hill, at a con- 
 venient distance from the house, until her return ; but 
 then took her horse from her, and put it away to the rest, 
 refusing to enter the door. Thus was she left in her 
 father's house all alone. Nanny came over, and assisted 
 her in milling the kine evening and morning ; but Katharine 
 remained the rest of the day, and every night, by 
 herself, neither did she press any one much to bear her 
 company. She had no one to send in search of her father, 
 and deliver Drummelzier's bond, at least none that any 
 one knew of, yet it was sent, and that speedily, although 
 to little purpose ; for though Walter was sent to Dum- 
 fries jail, he remained there but two nights ; a party of 
 prisoners, of ten men and two women, being ordered for 
 Edinburgh, under a guard of soldiers, he was mixed in- 
 discriminately with the rest, and sent there along witli 
 them. 
 
 He always said, that though he was disposed to think 
 well of Clavers before he saw him, yet he never was so 
 blithe in his life as when he got from under his 
 
110 THE BROWNIE 
 
 jurisdiction ; for there was an appearance of ferocity and 
 wantonness of cruelty in all his proceedings, during the 
 time that he rode in his train a prisoner, that made the 
 heart of any man, not brutified by inurement to such 
 scenes, revolt at the principles that induced, as well as 
 the government that warranted them. He saw him and 
 his troopers gather the whole vale of Annandale, as a 
 shepherd gathers his sheep in droves, pricking the in- 
 habitants with their swords to urge their speed. When 
 he got thus all the people of a parish, or division of a 
 parish, driven together, he surrounded them with his 
 soldiers, made them kneel by dozens, and take the oath 
 of abjuration, as well as one acknowledging James Duke 
 of York, their rightful lord and sovereign ; and lastly, 
 made them renounce their right and part in heaven, if 
 ever they repented them of that oath. The first man of 
 such a group, who refused or objected to compliance 
 with this dreadful measure, he took him forthwith behind 
 the ranks and shot him, which summary way of proceed- 
 ing generally induced all the people to comply. More- 
 over, the way in which he threatened and maltreated 
 children, and mocked and insulted women, not to men- 
 tion more brutal usage of them, proved him at once to be 
 destitute of the behaviour and feelings becoming a man, 
 far less those of a gentleman. He seemed to regard all 
 the commonalty in the south and west of Scotland as 
 things to be mocked and insulted at pleasure, as beings 
 created only for the sport of him and his soldiers, while 
 their mental and bodily agonies were his delight. The 
 narrator of this tale confesses that he has taken this ac- 
 count of his raid through the vales of Esk and Annan 
 solely from tradition, as well as the attack made on the 
 two conventicles, where the Pringles, &c., were taken 
 prisoners ; but these traditions are descended from such 
 a source, and by such a line, as amounts with him to 
 veracity, while other incidents recorded by Wodrow and 
 Huie fully corroborate them. 
 
 Far different were Walter's feelings on parting with 
 the commander of his guard, Serjeant Daniel Roy Mac- 
 
. OF BODSBECK. Ill 
 
 pherson, a noble block from the genuine quarry of nature 
 rude as it was taken thence, without the mark of ham- 
 mer or chisel. When he heard that his prisoner was to 
 be taken from under his charge, he made up to him when 
 out of the eye of his commander, and treated him with 
 a parting speech ; which, on account of its singularity, 
 is here preserved, though, doubtless, woefully garbled 
 by being handed from one southland generation to 
 another. 
 
 " Now he'll pe tahaking you away from mhe pefore as 
 it were yesterdhay ; and he'll pe putting you into some 
 vhile dark hole with all te low tamn fwigs that come from 
 te hills of Gallochee and Drummochloonrich, which is a 
 shame and a disgrhace to shut up a shentleman who is 
 chief of a clan among such poor crhazy maniachs, who 
 will pe filling your ears full of their rejoicings in spirit ; 
 and of Haiven ! and Haiven ! just as if they were all go- 
 ing to Haiven ! Do they suppose that Haiven is to pe 
 iilled full of such poor insignaiticant crheatures as they ? 
 But I'll pe giving you advice as a friend and prhother ; 
 when you come pefore the couhnsel, or any of their com- 
 missioners, do not you pe talking of Haiven, and Haiven, 
 and of conscience and covenants. And do not you pe 
 pragging and poasting of one to pe your chief, or to pe 
 of a clan that has not a friend at court ; but tell them 
 your own clan, and your claims to be its chief ; and if 
 you do not know her true descent, you had better claim 
 Macpherson ; she pe as ould and as honourable a clan 
 as any of them all, and more." 
 
 Walter said, he trusted still to the proofs of his own 
 loyalty, and the want of evidence to the contrary. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh !" said Macpherson ; "I tell you the 
 evidence you want is this, if any great man say you 
 ought to live, you will live ; if not, you will die. Did 
 not I was telling you that the soholdiers that were 
 found dead in the correi, on the lands that belong to 
 yourself, was evidence enough and more ; I would not 
 pe giving a curse for your evidence after that, for the one 
 is much petter than te other. And it is very well 
 
112 THE BROWNIE 
 
 thought!" continued he, smiling grimly, "if you will 
 pe preaking out into a rage, and pe cursing and tamning 
 them all, you will get free in one moment." 
 
 Walter said, that would be an easy ransom, and though 
 it was an error he was too apt to fall into when angry, he 
 could see no effect it could have in this case, but to irri- 
 tate his prosecutors more and more against him. 
 
 " You see no effect ! Cot t n, if you ever can see 
 any effect peyond the top that is on your nose ! and you 
 will not pe advised by a man of experience, who would 
 do more for you than he would pe commending of; and 
 if you trust to what you can see, you will pe dancing a 
 beautiful Highland shig in the air to a saulm tune, and 
 that will have a very good effect. I tell you, when you 
 come again to be questioned, I know my Lord Dundee 
 is to be there to pe adducing his proof; take you great 
 and proud offence at some of their questions and their 
 proofs ; and you may pe making offer to fight them all 
 one by one, or two by two, in the king's name, and send 
 them all to hell in one pody ; you cannot pe tamning 
 them too much sore. By the soul of Rory More Mac- 
 pherson ! I would almost give up this claymore to be by 
 and see that effect. Now you are not to pe minding be- 
 cause lam laughing like a fool, for I'm perfectly serious ; if 
 matters should pe standing hard with you, think of the ad- 
 vice of an ould friend, who respects you as the chief of the 
 clan MacLeadle, supposing it to pe as low, and as much 
 fallen down as it may. Farewell ! she pe giving you her 
 hearty Cot's blessing. 
 
 Thus parted he with Daniel Roy Macpherson, and, as 
 he judged, an unfortunate change it was for him. The 
 wretch who now took the command of their guard had all 
 the ignorance and rudeness of the former, without any 
 counterbalance of high feeling and honour like him. His 
 name was Patie Ingles, a temporary officer, the same who 
 cut off the head of the amiable Mr White with an axe, at 
 Kilmarnock, carried it to New-mills, and gave it to his 
 party to play a game with at foot-ball, which they did. 
 Ingles was drunk during the greater part of the journey, and 
 
OF BODSBECK. 113 
 
 his whole delight was in hurting, mortifying, and mimicking 
 his prisoners. They were all bound together in pairs, 
 and driven on in that manner like coupled dogs. This 
 was effected by a very simple process. Their hands were 
 fastened behind, the right and left arm of each pair being 
 linked within one another. Walter was tied to a little 
 spare Galloway weaver, a man wholly prone to controver- 
 sy ; he wanted to argue every point, on which account 
 he was committed. Yet, when among the Cameronians, 
 he took their principles as severely to task as he did those 
 of the other party when examined by them. He lived 
 but to contradict. Often did he try Walter with different 
 points of opinion regarding the Christian Church. Walter 
 knew so little about them that the weaver was astonished. 
 He tried him with the apologetical declaration. Walter 
 had never heard of it. He could make nothing of his 
 gigantic associate, and at length began a sly inquiry on 
 what account he was committed ; but even on that he re- 
 ceived no satisfactory information. 
 
 Ingles came staggering up with them. " Weel, Master 
 Skinflint, what say you to it the day ? This is a pleasant 
 journey, is it not ? Eh ? I say, Master, what do they 
 call you ! Peal-an'-eat, answer me in this you see I 
 say Is it not delightful ? Eh ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said the weaver, who wished to be 
 quit of him ; " very delightful to those who feel it 
 
 bO." 
 
 " Feel it so ! D n you, sirrah, what do you mean by 
 that ? Do you know who you are speaking to ? Eh ? An- 
 swer me in this What do you mean by Feel it so ? Eh ?" 
 
 " I meant nothing," returned the weaver, somewhat 
 snappishly, " but that kind of respect which I always pay 
 to gentry like you." 
 
 " Gentry like me ! D n you, sir, if you speak such 
 a -Eh ? Gentry like me ! I'll spit you like a cock 
 pheasant .Eh? Have you any of them in Galloway ? 
 Answer me in this, will you? Eh ?" 
 
 " I'll answer any reasonable thing, sir," said the poor 
 weaver. 
 
 K 2 
 
114 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " Hout ! never head the creature, man/' said Waltei ; 
 " it's a poor drunken senseless beast of a thing." 
 
 Ingles fixed his reeling unsteady eyes upon him, filled 
 with drunken rage walked on, spitting and looking across 
 the way for a considerable space " What the devil of 
 a whig camel is this?" said he, crossing over to Walter's 
 side " Drunken senseless beast of a thing ! Holm, did 
 you hear that ? Macwhinny, did you ? Eh ? I'll scorn 
 to shoot the cusser, though I could do it Eh ? But I'll 
 kick him like a dog Eh '? Take that, and that, will you ? 
 Eh ?" And so saying, he kicked our proud-hearted and 
 independent Goodman of Chapelhope with his foot, 
 staggering backward each time he struck. 
 
 Walter's spirit could not brook this ; and, disregardful 
 or all consequences, he wheeled about with his face toward 
 him, dragging the weaver round with a jerk, as a mastiff 
 sometimes does a spaniel that is coupled to him ; and, as 
 Ingles threw up his foot to kick him on the belly, he fol- 
 lowed up his heel with his foot, giving him such a fling up- 
 wards as made him whirl round in the air like a reel. 
 He fell on his back, and lay motionless ; on which, several 
 of the party of soldiers levelled their muskets at Walter. 
 " Ay, shoot," said he, setting up his boardly breast to 
 them " Shoot at me if you dare, the best o' ye." 
 
 The soldiers cocked their pieces. 
 
 " Your Colonel himsel durstna wrang a hair o' my head, 
 though fain he wad hae done sae, without first gieing me 
 ower to his betters Let me see if a scullion amang ye 
 a* dare do mair than he." 
 
 The soldiers turned their eyes, waiting for the word 
 of command; and the weaver kept as far away from 
 Walter as the nature of his bonds would let him. The 
 command of the party now devolved on a Serjeant 
 Douglas ; who, perhaps nothing sorry for what had hap- 
 pened, stepped in between the soldiers and prisoner, and 
 swore a great oath, that, " what the prisoner said was the 
 truth ; and that all that it was their duty to do was, to 
 take the prisoners safe to Edinburgh, as at first ordered -, 
 and there give their evidence of this transaction, which 
 
OF BODSBECK. 115 
 
 would send the lousy whig to hell at once, provided there 
 was any chance of his otherwise escaping." 
 
 They lifted Ingles, and held him up into the air to get 
 breath, loosing meantime his cravat and clothes ; on which 
 he fell to vomit severely, owing to the fall he had got, 
 and the great quantity of spirits he had drunk. They 
 waited on him for about two hours ; but as he still con- 
 tinued unable either to speak or walk, they took him in- 
 to a house called Granton and proceeded on their desti- 
 nation. 
 
 This Douglas, though apparently a superior person to 
 the former commander of the party, was still more intole- 
 rant and cruel than he. There was no indignity or incon- 
 venience that he could fasten on his prisoners which he 
 did not exercise to the utmost. They lodged that night 
 at a place called Tweedshaws ; and Walter used always 
 to relate an occurrence that took place the next morning, 
 that strongly marked the character of this petty officer, as 
 well as the licensed cruelty of the times. 
 
 Some time previous to this, there had been a fellowship 
 meeting, at a place called Tallo- Linns, of the wanderers 
 that lurked about Chapelhope and the adjacent mountains. 
 About eighty had assembled, merely to spend the night 
 in prayer, reading the Scriptures, &c. The curate of 
 Tweedsmuir, a poor dissolute wretch, sent a flaming ac- 
 count of this in writing to the privy council, magnifying 
 that simple affair to a great and dangerous meeting of 
 armed men. The council took the alarm, raised the hue 
 and cry, and offered a reward for the apprehending of any 
 one who had been at the meeting of Tallo-Linns. The 
 curate, learning that a party of the king's troops was 
 lodged that night in his parish and neighbourhood, came 
 to Tweedshaws at a late hour, and requested to speak 
 with the captain of the party. He then informed Douglas 
 of the meeting, shewed him the council's letter and pro- 
 clamation, and finally told him that there was a man in a 
 cottage hard by whom he strongly suspected to have 
 formed one at the meeting alluded to in the proclamation 
 There being no conveniency for lodging so many people 
 
116 THE BROWNIE 
 
 at Tweedshaws, Douglas and the curate drank together 
 all the night, as did the soldiers in another party. A 
 number of friends to the prisoners had given them money 
 when they left Dumfries for Edinburgh, to supply as 
 well as they might the privations to which they would be 
 subjected ; but here the military took the greater part of 
 it from them to supply their intemperance. About the 
 break of day, they went and surrounded a shepherd's cot- 
 tage belonging to the farm of Corehead, having been led 
 thither by the curate, where they found the shepherd an 
 old man, his daughter, and one Edward M'Cane, son to 
 a merchant in Lanarkshire, who was courting this shep- 
 herdess, a beautiful young maiden. The curate having 
 got intelligence that a stranger was at that house, imme- 
 diately suspected him to be one of the wanderers, and on 
 this surmise the information was given. The curate 
 acknowledged the shepherd and his daughter as parish- 
 ioners, but of M'Cane, he said, he knew nothing, and 
 had no doubt that he was one of the rebellious whigs. 
 They fell to examine the youth, but they were all affected 
 with the liquor they had drunk over night, and made a 
 mere farce of it, paying no regard to his answers, or, if 
 they did, it was merely to misconstrue or mock them. 
 He denied having been at the meeting at Tallo-Linns, 
 and all acquaintance with the individuals whom they named 
 as having been there present. Finding that they could 
 make nothing of him whereon to ground a charge, Douglas 
 made them search him for arms ; for being somewhat 
 drunk, he took it highly amiss that he should have been 
 brought out of his way for nothing. M'Cane judged 
 himself safe on that score, for he knew that he had neither 
 knife, razor, bodkin, nor edged instrument of any kind 
 about him ; but as ill luck would have it, he chanced to 
 have an old gun-flint in his waistcoat pocket. Douglas 
 instantly pronounced this to be sufficient, and ordered 
 him to be shot. M'Cane was speechless for some time 
 with astonishment, and at length told his errand, and the 
 footing on which he stood with the young girl before them, 
 offering at the same time to bring proofs from his own 
 
OF BODSBECK. 117 
 
 parish of his loyalty and conformity. He even conde- 
 scended to kneel to the ruffian, to clasp his knees, and beg 
 and beseech of him to be allowed time for a regular proof ; 
 but nothing would move him. He said, the courtship 
 was a very clever excuse, but would not do with him, 
 and forthwith ordered him to be shot. He would not 
 even allow him to sing a psalm with his two friends, but 
 cursed and swore that the devil a psalm he should sing 
 there. He said, " It would not be singing a few verses 
 of a psalm in a wretched and miserable style that would 
 keep him out of hell ; and if he went to heaven, he might 
 then lilt as much at psalm-singing as he had a mind." 
 When the girl, his betrothed sweetheart, saw the muskets 
 levelled at her lover, she broke through the file, shrieking 
 most piteously, threw herself on him, clasped his neck and 
 kissed him, crying, like one distracted, " O Edward, take 
 me wi' ye take me wi' ye ; a' the warld sanna part us." 
 
 " Ah ! Mary," said he, " last night we looked forward 
 to long and happy years how joyful were our hopes ! 
 but they are all blasted at once. Be comforted, my dear- 
 est, dearest heart! God bless you ! -Farewell for ever." 
 
 The soldiers then dragged her backward, mocking her 
 with indelicate remarks, and while she was yet scarcely 
 two paces removed, and still stretching out her hands 
 towards him, six balls were lodged in his heart in a mo- 
 ment, and he fell dead at her feet. Deformed and bloody 
 as he was, she pressed the corpse to her bosom, moaning 
 and sobbing in such a way as if every throb would have 
 been her last, and in that condition the soldiers marched 
 merrily off and left them. For this doughty and noble 
 deed, for which Serjeant Douglas deserved to have been 
 hanged and quartered, he shortly after got a cornetcy in 
 Sir Thomas Livingston's troop of horse.. 
 
 Two of the prisoners made their escape that morning, 
 owing to the drunkenness of then* guards, on which account 
 the remainder being blamed, were more haughtily and 
 cruelly treated than ever. It is necessary to mention all 
 these, as they were afterwards canvassed at Walter's trial, 
 the account of which formed one of his winter evening 
 
118 THE BROWNIE 
 
 tales as long as he lived. Indeed, all such diffuse and 
 miscellaneous matter as is contained in this chapter, is a 
 great incumbrance in the right onward progress of a tale ; 
 but we have done with it, and shall now haste to the end 
 of our narrative in a direct uninterrupted line. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 THE sudden departure of Katharine from home, after 
 the extraordinary adventure of the curate Clerk in the 
 Old Room, at the crowing of the cock, was a great relief 
 to him, as it freed him from the embarrassment of her 
 company, and gave him an opportunity of telling his own 
 story to the gudewife without interruption, of the success 
 he had in freeing her daughter from the power and fellow- 
 ship of evil spirits. That story was fitted admirably to 
 suit her weak and superstitious mind ; it accorded with 
 any thing nearer than the truth, and perhaps this finished 
 hypocrite never appeared so great a character in the eyes 
 of Maron Linton as he did that day. He spoke of going 
 away to Henderland in the evening, but she entreated 
 him so earnestly to stay and protect her from the power 
 of the spirits that haunted the place, that he deemed it pro- 
 per to acquiesce, for without the countenance of the family 
 of Chapelhope he was nothing he could not have lived in 
 his puny cure. She depended on him, she said, to rid the 
 town of these audacious (or, as she called them, misleared) 
 beings altogether, for without his interference the family 
 would be ruined. Their servants had all left them the 
 work remained unwrought, and every thing was going to 
 confusion she had given Brownie his accustomed wages 
 again and again, and still he refused to leave the house ; and 
 without the holy man's assistance in expelling him and 
 his train, their prospects in life were hopeless. 
 
 The curate promised to use his highest interest with 
 
OF BODSBECK. 119 
 
 Heaven, and assured her that no further evil should come 
 nigh unto her, at least while he remained under her roof ; 
 "for were it not," said he, "for the conjunction which 
 they are in with one of the family, they should have been 
 expelled long ere now. That unnatural bond, I hope, 
 by a course of secret conferences, to be able to break a- 
 sunder, but be not thou afraid, for no evil shall come nigh 
 thy dwelling." He talked with the good wife in the style 
 that pleased her ; flattered her high and pure notions of 
 religion, as well as her piety and benevolence ; said even- 
 ing prayers in the family with zeal and devotion ; but 
 how was he startled when informed that he was to sleep 
 again in the Old Room ! He indeed knew not that it 
 was haunted more than any other part of the house, or 
 that it was the favourite nightly resort of the Brownie of 
 Bodsbeck, but the apparition that he had seen, and the 
 unaccountable rescue that he had witnessed the night be- 
 fore, preyed on his mind, and he hinted to the goodwife, 
 that he had expected to be preferred to her daughter's 
 room and bed that night, as she was absent ; but Maron, 
 too, was selfish ; for who is without that great ruling 
 motive ? She expected that Brownie would appear ; that 
 Mass John would speak to it ; and thence forward to be 
 freed from its unwelcome intrusions. To the Old Room 
 he was shewn at a late hour, where the lamp, the Bible, 
 and the sand-glass were placed on the little table, at the 
 bed's head, as usual. 
 
 It was past eleven when the curate went to sleep. 
 Old Nanny, who was dressed more neatly than usual, sat 
 still at the kitchen fire, expecting every minute the two Co- 
 venant men, whom her young mistress had promised to send 
 to her privily, as her companions and protectors through 
 the dark and silent watches of the night until her return. 
 Still nothing of them appeared ; but, confident that they 
 would appear, she stirred the embers of the fire, and con- 
 tinued to keep watch with patient anxiety. When it 
 drew towards midnight, as she judged, she heard a noise 
 without, as of some people entering or trying to enter, 
 by the outer door of the Old Room. Concluding that it 
 
120 , THE BROWNIE 
 
 was her expected companions, and alarmed at the wrong 
 direction they had taken, she ran out, and round the west 
 end of the bouse, to warn them of their mistake, and bring 
 them in by the kitchen door. As she proceeded, she 
 heard two or three loud and half stifled howls from the 
 interior of the Old Room. The door was shut, but, 
 perceiving by the seam in the window shutters that the 
 light within was still burning, she ran to the window, 
 which directly faced the curate's bed ; and there being a 
 small aperture broken in one of the panes, she edged back 
 the shutter, so as to see and hear the most part of what 
 was going on within. She saw four or five figures 
 standing at the bed, resembling human figures in some 
 small degree their backs towards her ; but she saw a 
 half face of one that held the lamp in its hand, and it was 
 of the hue of a smoked wall. In the midst of them stood 
 the deformed little Brownie, that has often been mentioned 
 and described in the foregoing part of this tale. In his 
 right hand he brandished a weapon, resembling a dirk or 
 carving-knife. The other hand he stretched out, half 
 raised over the curate's face, as if to command attention. 
 "Peace!" said he, "thou child of the bottomless pit, 
 and minister of unrighteousness; another such sound 
 from these polluted lips of thine, and I plunge this 
 weapon into thy heart. We would shed thy blood with- 
 out any reluctance nay, know thou that we would re- 
 joice to do it, as thereby we would render our master 
 acceptable service. Not for that intent or purpose are we 
 now come ; yet thy abominations shall not altogether pass 
 unpunished. Thou knowest thy own heart its hypo- 
 crisy, and licentiousness Thou knowest, that last night, 
 at this same hour, thou didst attempt, by brutal force, to 
 pollute the purest and most angelic of the human race 
 we rescued her from thy hellish clutch, for we are her 
 servants, and attend upon her steps. Thou knowest, 
 that still thou art cherishing the hope of succeeding in 
 thy cursed scheme. Thou art a stain to thy profession, 
 and a blot upon the cheek of nature, enough to make thy 
 race and thv nation stink in the nose of their Creator ! 
 
OF BODSBECK. 12} 
 
 To what thou deservest, thy doom is a lenient one 
 but it is fixed and irrevocable !" 
 
 There was something in that mis-shapen creature's 
 voice that chilled Nanny's very soul while it spoke these 
 words, especially its pronunciation of some of them ; it 
 sounded like something she had heard before, perhaps in 
 a dream, but it was horrible and not to be brooked. The 
 rest now laid violent hold of Mass John, and she heard 
 him mumbling in a supplicating voice, but knew not what 
 he said. As they stooped forward, the lamp shone on 
 the floor, and she saw the appearance of a coffin standing 
 behind them. Nanny was astonished, but not yet over- 
 come ; for, cruel were the scenes that she had beheld, and 
 many the trials she had undergone ! but at that instant 
 the deformed and grizly being turned round, as if looking 
 for something that it wanted -the lamp shone full on its 
 face, the lineaments of which when Nanny beheld, her 
 eyes at once were darkened, and she saw no more that 
 night. How she spent the remainder of it, or by what 
 means she got to her bed in the kitchen, she never knew ; 
 but next morning when the goodwife and her sons arose, 
 poor old Nanny was lying in the kitchen bed delirious, 
 and talking of dreadful and incomprehensible things. All 
 that could be gathered from her frenzy was, that some 
 terrible catastrophe had happened in the Old Room, and 
 that Clerk, the curate, was implicated in it. The good- 
 wife, judging that her favourite had been at war with the 
 spirits, and that Heaven had been of course triumphant, 
 hasted to the Old Room to bless and pay the honour due 
 to such a divine character ; she called his name as she 
 entered, but no one made answer ; she hasted to the bed, 
 but behold there was no one there ! The goodwife's 
 sole spiritual guide had vanished away. 
 
 The curate Clerk was never more seen nor heard 
 of in these bounds ; but it may not be improper here 
 to relate a circumstance that happened some time 
 thereafter, as it comes no more within the range of this 
 story. 
 
 In the month of October, and the memorable year 
 
 L 
 
122 THE BROWNIE 
 
 1 688, it is well known that Clavers halted southward, 
 with all the troops under his command, to assist Kinsj: 
 James against the Prince of Orange and the protestant 
 party of England, or to sell himself to the latter, any of 
 the ways that he found most convenient. In the course of 
 this march, as he was resting his troops at a place called 
 Ninemile-brae, near the Border, a poor emaciated and 
 forlorn -looking wretch came to him, and desired to speak 
 a word with him. Mr Adam Copland and he were sit- 
 ting together when this happened ; Clavers asked his 
 name and his business, for none of the two recognised 
 him It was Clerk, the curate (that had been) of Chapel- 
 hope and Kirkhope ! Clavers said, as there were none 
 present save a friend, he might say out his business. 
 This he declined, and took Clavers a short way aside. 
 Copland watched their motions, but could not hear what 
 Clerk said. When he began to tell his story Clavers 
 burst into a violent fit of laughter, but soon restrained 
 himself, and Copland beheld him knitting his brows, and 
 biting his lip, as he seldom failed to do when angry. 
 When they parted, he heard him saying distinctly, " It 
 is impossible that I can avenge your wrongs at this time, 
 for I have matters of great import before me ; but the 
 day may come ere long when it will be in my power, and 
 d n me if I do not do it !" 
 
 The spirits of the wild having been victorious, and the 
 reverend curate, the goodwife's only stay, overcome and 
 carried off bodily, she was impatient, and on the rack 
 every minute that she staid longer about the house. 
 She caused one of her sons take a horse, and conduct 
 her to Gilmanscleuch that night, to her brother Thomas's 
 farm, determined no more to see Chapelhope till her 
 husband's return ; and if that should never take place, to 
 bid it adieu for ever. 
 
 Nanny went to the led farm of Riskinhope, that being 
 the nearest house to Chapelhope, and just over against it, 
 in order to take what care she was able of the things about 
 the house during the day. There also the two boys re- 
 mained, and herded throughout the day in a very indif- 
 
OF BODSBECK. 123 
 
 ferent manner ; and, in short, every thing about the farm 
 was going fast to confusion when Katharine returned 
 from her mission to the Laird of Drummelzier. Thus it 
 was that she found her father's house deserted, its doors 
 locked up, and its hearth cold. 
 
 Her anxiety to converse privately with Nanny was 
 great ; but at her first visit, when she went for the key, 
 this was impossible without being overheard. She soon, 
 however, found an opportunity ; for that night she en- 
 ticed her into the byre at Chapelhope, in the gloaming, 
 after the kine had left the lone, where a conversation took 
 place between them in effect as follows : 
 
 " Alas, Nanny ! how has all this happened ? Did not 
 the two Covenanters, for whom I sent, come to bear you 
 company ?" 
 
 " Dear bairn, if they did come I saw nae them. If 
 they came, they were ower late, for the spirits were there 
 afore them ; an' I hae seen sic a sight ? Dear, dear 
 bairn, dinna gar me gang ower it again I hae seen a 
 sight that's enough to turn the heart o' flesh to an 
 iceshogle, an' to freeze up the very springs o' life ! 
 Dinna gar me gang ower it again, an' rake up the ashes 
 o' the honoured dead 'But what need I say sae ? The 
 dead are up already ! Lord in heaven be my shield and 
 safeguard !" 
 
 "Nanny, you affright me; but, be assured, your 
 terrors have originated in some mistake your sight has 
 deceived you, and all shall yet be explained to your 
 satisfaction." 
 
 " Say nae sae, dear bairn ; my sight hasna deceived 
 me, yet I have been deceived. The world has deceived 
 me hell has deceived me and heaven has winked at 
 the deed. Alack, an' wae's me, that it should sae hae 
 been predestined afore the world began ! The day was, 
 an' no sae lang sin' syne, when I could hae prayed wi' 
 confidence, an' sung wi' joy ; but now my mind is over- 
 turned, and I hae nouther stay on earth, nor hope in 
 heaven ! The veil of the Temple may be rent below, 
 and the ark of the testimony thrown open above, but 
 
THE BROWNIE 
 
 their forms will not be seen within the one, nor their 
 names found written in the other. 
 
 " Peace, peace, for Heaven's sake ! You are verging 
 on blasphemy, and know not what you say." 
 
 " Do the reprobate know what they say, or can they 
 forbear saying it ? How then can I ? I, who am in the 
 bond of iniquity, and the jaws of death eternal ? Where 
 can I fly ? When the righteous are not saved, where 
 shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ? Ay, dear bairn, 
 weel may ye stare and raise up your hands that gate ; 
 but when ye hear my tale, ye winna wonder that my 
 poor wits are uprooted. Suppose sic a case your ain 
 suppose you had been the bosom companion o' ane for 
 twenty years had joined wi' him in devotion, e'ening 
 and morning, for a' that time, and had never heard a sigh 
 but for sin, nor a complaint but of the iniquities of the 
 land If ye had witnessed him follow two comely sons, 
 your own flesh and blood, to the scaffold, and bless his 
 God who put it in their hearts to stand and suffer for his 
 cause, and for the crown of martyrdom he had bestowed 
 on them, and bury the mangled bodies of other two with 
 tears, but not with repining If, after a' this, he had been 
 hunted as a partridge on the mountains, and for the same 
 dear cause, the simplicity of the truth as it is in Jesus, 
 had laid down his life If you knew that his grey head 
 was hung upon the city wall for a spectacle to gaze at, 
 and his trunk buried in the wild by strangers Say you 
 knew all this, and had all these dear ties in your remem- 
 brance, and yet, after long years of hope soon to join 
 their blest society above, to see again that loved and re- 
 vered form stand before your eyes on earth at midnight, 
 shrivelled, pale, and deformed, and mixed with malevolent 
 spirits on dire and revengeful intent, where wad your 
 hope where wad your confidence or where wad your 
 wits hae been flown ?" Here she cried bitterly ; and 
 seizing the astonished Katharine's hand with both hers, 
 and pressing it to her brow, she continued her impassioned 
 and frantic strain. " Pity me, O dear bairn, pity me ! 
 For man hasna pitied me, an' God hasna pitied me ! I'm 
 
OF BODSBECK. 125 
 
 gaun down a floody water, down, down ; an' I wad fain 
 grip at something, if it were but a swoomin strae, as a 
 last hope, afore I sink a' thegither." 
 
 " These are the words of delirium," said Katharine, 
 " and 1 will not set them down in my memory as spoken 
 by you. Pray the Almighty that they may never be 
 written in his book of remembrance against you; for 
 the veriest downfallen fiend can do no more than distrust 
 the mercy of God in a Redeemer. I tell you, woman, 
 that whatever you may fancy you have seen or heard in 
 the darkness of night, when imagination forms fantasies 
 of its own, of all those who have stood for our civil and 
 religious liberties, who, for the sake of a good conscience, 
 have yielded up all, and sealed their testimony with their 
 blood, not one hair of their heads shall fall to the ground, 
 for their names are written in the book of life, and they 
 shall shine as stars in the kingdom of their Father. You 
 have yourself suffered much, and have rejoiced in your 
 sufferings So far you did well Do not then mar so fair 
 an eternal harvest so blest a prospect of a happy and 
 everlasting community, by the sin of despair, that can 
 never be forgiven. Can you, for a moment, while in pos- 
 session of your right senses, doubt of the tender mercies 
 of your Maker and Preserver ? Can you for a moment 
 believe that he has hid his face from the tears and the blood 
 that have been shed for his cause in Scotland ? As well 
 may you doubt that the earth bears or the sun warms 
 you, or that he never made a revelation of his will to 
 man." 
 
 All the while that Katharine spoke thus, Nanny's eyes 
 were fixed on her, as if drinking every word she uttered 
 into a soul that thirsted for it. A wild and unstable light 
 beamed on her countenance, but it was still only like a sun- 
 beam breaking through the storm, which is ready to be 
 swallowed up by the rolling darkness within. Her head 
 shook as with a slight paralytic affection, and she again 
 clasped the hand which she had never quitted. 
 
 " Are ye an angel o' light," said she, in a soft tremu- 
 lous voice, "that ye gar my heart prinkle sae wi' a joy 
 L 2 
 
126 THE BROWNIE 
 
 that it never thought again to taste ? It isna then a strae 
 nor a stibble that I hae grippit at for my last hope, but 
 the tap of a good tow-widdy saugh ; an* a young sapling 
 though it be, it is steevely rootit in a good soil, and 
 sprung frae a seed o' heaven, an' will maybe help the poor 
 drowning wretch to the shore ! An' hae I thought sae 
 muckle ill o' you ? Could I deem that mild heavenly 
 face, that's but the reflection o' the soul within, the image 
 o' sin and o' Satan, an' a veil o' deceit thrawn ower a 
 mind prone to wickedness ? Forgie me, dear, dear saint, 
 forgie me, an' help me better out yet. It surely canna be 
 condemned spirits that ye are connectit wi' ? Ah, ye're 
 dumb there ! ye darna answer me to that ! Na, na! the 
 spirits o' the just made perfect wad never leave their 
 abodes o' felicity to gabble amang derksome fiends at the 
 dead hour o' the night, in sic a world o' sin and sorrow 
 as this. But I saw him, an' heard him speak, as sure as 
 I see your face an' hear the tones o' my ain voice ; an', 
 if I lookit nae wrang, there were mae risen frae the dead 
 than ane. It is an awfu' dispensation to think o' ! But 
 there was a spirit o' retaliation in him that often made me 
 quake, though never sae as now. O wad ye but tell me 
 what kind o' spirits ye are in conjunction wi' ?" 
 
 " None but the blest and the happy -None but they 
 who have come out of great tribulation, and washed their 
 robes white in the blood of the Lamb None that would 
 harbour such a thought, or utter such a doubt, as you 
 have done to-night, for the empire of the universe More 
 I may not tell you at present ; but stay you here with 
 me, and I will cherish you, and introduce you to these 
 spirits, and you shall be happier with them than ever you 
 have been." 
 
 " Will I sae ? Say nae mair ! I wad pit hand to my 
 ain life the night, an' risk the warst or I again met wi' them 
 face to face in the same guise as I saw them at midnight 
 last week. Ye're a wonderfu' creature ! But ye're ayont 
 my depth ; therefore I'll love ye, an' fear ye, an' keep 
 my distance. Sit down, dear, dear bairn, an' join me 
 in singing a hymn afore we part." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 127 
 
 SANG SIXTH. 
 
 lather Almighty, O Father of light, 
 I kneel aud I tremble before thee, 
 
 For darkness surrounds the throne of thy might, 
 Aud with terror I fear and adore thee. 
 
 1 have seen, I have heard, what 1 not comprehend, 
 Which has caused my poor reason to waver, 
 
 TliG bodies or spirits of martyred men, 
 Who shrunk from thy standard, O never, 
 
 O never ! O never ! 
 But bled for their God and forgiver. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the darkness of midnight I saw them appear, 
 
 With faces unearthly and sallow, 
 Their forms were all shrivelled, their features severe, 
 
 Their voices unearthly and hollow. 
 And yet, O great God ! it was they, it was they, 
 
 Put down by a sinful blasphemer, 
 They laid down their lives in the moorland away, 
 
 And bled for their God and Redeemer, 
 O Saviour ! Dear Saviour, 
 
 Preserve from despondence for ever. 
 
 But where can I turn my bewildered eye, 
 
 Or where can I fly but to Thee, 
 Since all the long vales of eternity lie 
 
 Concealed in deep darkness from me ? 
 Then here at thy footstool of mercy I bow, 
 
 Imploring thy grace to deliver ; 
 For shadows of darkness beleaguer me now, 
 
 And I fly to my God and forgiver. 
 For ever ! O ever ! 
 
 I'll cling to my Saviour for ever. 
 
 Thus they parted: Katharine into her long vacant 
 house, and Nanny over to Riskinhope. The farmer of 
 Riskinhope (David Bryden of Eldin-hope), was ruined by 
 the sequestration of his stock by Clavers, but the shep- 
 herds and other servants still lingered about the house for 
 better or for worse. There was not a sheep on that large 
 farm, save about five scores of good ewes, that Davie Tait, 
 the herd of Whithope, had turned slyly over into the hags 
 
128 THE BROWNIE 
 
 of the Yokeburn-head, that day the drivers took away the 
 stock. When Clavers made his last raid up by Chapel - 
 hope, all the family of Riskinhope fled to the hills, and 
 betook them to cover, every one by himself; and there, 
 with beating hearts, peeped through the heath and the 
 rash-bush, to watch the motions of that bloody persecutor. 
 Perilous was their case that day, for had any of them been 
 found in that situation, it would have been enough ; but 
 Davie well knew it was good for him to keep out of the 
 way, for Mr Renwick, and Mr Shields, as well as other 
 wanderers, had been sheltered in his house many a night, 
 and the latter wrote his Hind let Loose in a small house 
 at the side of Winterhopeburn. Yet Davie was not a 
 Cameronian, properly speaking, nor a very religious man 
 neither ; but the religious enthusiasm of his guests had 
 broke him a little into their manner, and way of thinking. 
 He had learned to make family exercise, not however to 
 very great purpose, for the only thing very remarkable in 
 it was the strong nasal Cameronian whine of his prayer, 
 and its pastoral allusions ; but he was grown fond of exhib- 
 iting in that line, having learned the Martyr's tune, and 
 the second part of the Dundee, which formed the whole 
 range of his psalmody ! Yet Davie liked a joke as well as 
 ever he did, and perhaps as well as any part of divine wor- 
 ship. When one remarked to him that his family music 
 was loud enough, but very discordant, " Ay," quoth 
 Davie, " but it's a lang gate at ween here an' heaven ; a' 
 music's good i' the distance ; I hae strong faith in that." 
 
 That night after Nanny came over, Davie had prayed 
 as usual, and among other things, had not forgot the 
 Brownie of Bodsbeck, that " he might be skelpit wi' the 
 taws o' divine wrath, an' sent back to hell wi' the sperks 
 on his hips ; and that the angel of presence might keep 
 watch over their couches that night, to scare the howlaty 
 face o' him away, an' learn him to keep his ain side o' the 
 water." 
 
 After prayers the family were crowded round the fading 
 ingle, and cracking of the Brownie and of Davie's prayer. 
 Davie had opened his waistcoat, and thrown off his hose 
 
OF BODSBECK. 129 
 
 to warm his feet, and, flattered with their remarks on his 
 abilities, began to be somewhat scurrilous on Brownie. 
 " I think I hae cowed him the night," said he ; " he'll 
 fash nane o' us he may stay wi' his Keatie Laidlaw yon- 
 der, an' rin at her biddin. He has a sonsy weel-faur'd lass 
 to bide wi' he's better aff than some o' his neighbours, 
 Maysey ;" and, saying so, he cast a look to his wife that 
 spoke unutterable things ; but finding that his joke did 
 not take, after so serious a prayer, he turned again on 
 Brownie, and, as his own wife said, " didna leave him 
 the likeness of a dog." He said he had eaten sax bowes 
 o' good meal to the goodman, an* a' that he had done for't, 
 that ony body kend o', was mending up an auld~*fail-dike 
 round the corn ae night. In short, he said he was an un- 
 profitable guest a dirty droich, an' a menseless glutton 
 an' it was weak an' silly in ony true Christian to be eiry 
 for him." He had not said out the last words, when they 
 heard a whispering at the door, and shortly after these 
 words distinctly uttered : 
 
 " There's neither blood nor rown-tree pin, 
 At open doors the dogs go in." 
 
 The size of every eye's orbit was doubled in a moment, 
 as it turned towards the door. The light of the fire was 
 shining bright along the short entry between the beds, 
 and they saw the appearance of a man, clothed in black, 
 come slowly and deliberately in, walk across the entry, 
 and go into the apartment in the other end of the house. 
 The family were all above one another in beyond the fire 
 in an instant, and struggling who to be undermost, and 
 next the wall. Nanny, who was sitting on the form beyond 
 the fire, pondering on other matters, leaning her brow on 
 both hands, and all unconscious of what had entered, was 
 overborne in the crush, and laid flat undermost of all. 
 
 " Dear, dear bairns, what's asteer ? Hout fy ! Why, 
 troth, yell crush the poor auld body as braid as a blood- 
 kercake." 
 
 " Ah ! the Brownie ! the Brownie ! the Brownie 
 
130 THE BROWNIE 
 
 o' Bodsbeck !" was whispered in horror from every 
 tongue. 
 
 Davie Tait luckily recollecting that there was a door 
 at hand, that led to a little milk-house in the other end 
 of the house, and still another division farther from 
 Brownie, led the way to it on all four, at full gallop, and 
 took shelter in the farthest corner of that. All the rest 
 were soon above him, but Davie bore the oppressive weight 
 with great fortitude for some time, and without a murmur. 
 Nanny was left last ; she kept hold of the Bible that she 
 had in her lap when she fell, and had likewise the pre- 
 caution to light the lamp before she followed her affrighted 
 associates. Nothing could be more appalling than her 
 own entry after them never was a figure more calcula- 
 ted to inspire terror, than Nanny coming carrying a fee- 
 ble glimmering lamp, that only served to make darkness 
 visible, while her pale raised-like features were bent 
 over it, eager to discover her rueful compeers. The lamp 
 was half-covered with her hand to keep it from being 
 blown out ; and her face, where only a line of light here 
 and there was visible, was altogether horrible. Having 
 discovered the situation, and the plight of the family, she 
 bolted the door behind her, and advanced slowly up to 
 them. " Dear bairns, what did ye see that has putten ye 
 a' this gate ?" 
 
 " Lord sauf us !" cried Davie, from below, " we hae 
 forespoke the Brownie tak that elbow out o' my guts a 
 wee bit. They say, if ye speak o' the deil, he'll appear. 
 'Tis an unsonsy and dangerous thing to -Wha's aught 
 that knee ? slack it a little. God guide us, sirs, there's 
 the weight of a millstane on aboon the links o' my neck. 
 If the Lord hae forsaken us, an' winna heed our prayers, 
 we may gie up a' for tint thegither ! Nanny, hae ye 
 boltit the door.'* 
 
 " Ay hae I, firm an' fast/' 
 
 " Than muve up a wee, sirs, or faith I'm gane Hech- 
 howe ! the weight o' sin an' mortality that's amang ye." 
 
 Davie's courage, that had begun to mount on hearing 
 that the door was bolted, soon gave way again, when he 
 
OF BODSBECK. 131 
 
 raised his head, and saw the utter dismay that was painted 
 on each countenance. " Hout, Maysey woman, dinna 
 just mak sic faces ye are eneuch to fright fock, foreby 
 aught else," said he to his wife. 
 
 " O Davie, think what a wheenpoor helpless creatures 
 we are ! Does Brownie ever kill ony body ?" 
 
 " I wish it be nae a waur thing than Brownie," said 
 Dan. 
 
 "Waur than Brownie? Mercy on us! Waur than 
 Brownie ! What was it like ?" was whispered round. 
 
 " Ye mind poor Kirko, the bit Dinscore laird, that 
 skulkit hereabouts sae lang, an' sleepit several nights ben 
 in that end ? Didna ye a' think it was unco like him ?" 
 
 " The very man ! the very man ! his make, his gang, 
 his claes, an' every thing," was echoed by all. 
 
 " An' ye ken,'' continued Dan, " that he was shot on 
 Dumfries sands this simmer. It is his ghaist come to 
 haunt the place whar he baid, an' prayed sae aften." 
 
 " Ower true ! Ower true ! it's awsome to think o'," 
 was the general remark. 
 
 " Let us go to prayers," said Nanny : "it isnaatime 
 to creep into nooks on aboon other, an' gie way to despair. 
 There is but Ane that can guard or protect us, let us ap- 
 ply there." 
 
 " Something has been done that way already," said 
 Davie Tait ; "we canna come to handygrips wi' him, an' 
 force him to stand senter at our door a' night." 
 
 Davie's matter was exhausted on the subject, and he did 
 not much relish going over the same words again, which, 
 he acknowledged, were rather kenspeckle ; nor yet to 
 venture on composing new ones out of his own head : 
 this made him disposed to waive Nanny's proposal. 
 
 " Ay," answered she, " but we maunna haud just wi' 
 saying, gie us this, an' gie us that ; and than, because we 
 dinna just get it aff loof, drap the plea an' despair. Na, 
 na, dear bairns, that's nae part o' the Christian warfare ! 
 we maun plead wi' humility, and plead again, an' never 
 was there mair cause for rousing to exertion than now. 
 The times are momentous, and some great change is draw- 
 
132 THE BROWNIE 
 
 ing near, for the dead are astir I have seen them myseP. 
 Yes, the several members that were scattered, and buried 
 apart, are come thegither again -joined, an' gaun aboon 
 the grund, mouthing the air o' heaven. I saw it mysel 
 Can it be that the resurrection is begun ? It is a far 
 away thought for the thing itsel to be as near ; but it's a 
 glorious ane, an' there's proof o't. But then the place 
 an' the time are doubtfu' had it been sun proof I wad 
 hae likit it better. We little wot what to say or think 
 under sic visitations. Let us apply to the only source 
 of light and direction. David, be you a mouth to 
 us." 
 
 "A mouth?" said Davie ; but recollecting himself, 
 added " Hum, I understand you ; but I hae mouthed 
 mair already than has come to ony good. I like fock to 
 pray that hae some chance to be heard ; some fock may 
 scraugh themsels herse, and be nae the better." 
 
 " Oh fie, David ! speak wi' some reverence," said his 
 wife Maysey. 
 
 " I mintit at naething else," said he, "but I hae an 
 unreverent kind o' tongue that nought ever serous-like 
 fa's frae, let my frame o' mind be as it will ; an' troth I 
 haena command o' language for a job like this. I trow 
 the prelates hae the best way after a', for they get pray- 
 ers ready made to their hands, an' disna need to affront 
 their Maker wi' blunders." 
 
 " How can ye speak sae the night, David ? or how can 
 sic a thought hover round your heart as to flee out at 
 random that gate? If ye will read prayers, there's a 
 book, read them out o' that ; if the words o' God winna 
 suit the cases o' his ain creatures, how can ye trow the 
 words o' another man can do it ? But pray wi' the heart, 
 an' pray in humility, and fearna being accepted." 
 
 " That's true ; but yet ane maks but a poor figure wi' 
 the heart by itsel." 
 
 " Wow, Davie, man," quoth Maysey, his wife, " an' 
 ye mak but a poor figure indeed, when we're a' in sic a 
 plight I Ye hear the woman speaks gude truth ; an' ye 
 ken yoursel ye fenced us against the Brownie afore, but 
 
OFBODSBECR. 133 
 
 no against Kirky's ghaist ; tak the beuk like a man, an' 
 pit the fence o' scripture faith round us for that too." 
 
 Stupid as Maysey was, she knew the way to her hus- 
 band's heart. Da vie could not resist such an appeal he 
 took the Bible ; sung the 143d psalm, from beginning 
 to end, at Nanny's request ; and likewise, by her direc- 
 tion, read the 20th of Revelation ; then kneeling down 
 on his bare knees, legs, and feet, as he fled from the 
 kitchen, on the damp miry floor of the milk-house, he 
 essayed a strong energetic prayer as a fence against the 
 invading ghost. But as Davie acknowledged, he had 
 an irreverent expression naturally, that no effort could 
 overcome, (and by the bye, there is more in this than 
 mankind are in general aware of,) and the more he aimed 
 at sublimity, the more ludicrous he grew, even to com- 
 mon ears. There is scarcely a boy in the country who 
 cannot recite scraps of Davie Tait's prayer ; but were I 
 to set all that is preserved of it down here, it might be 
 construed as a mockery of that holy ordinance, than which 
 nothing is so far from my heart or intention ; but, con- 
 vinced as I am that a rude exhibition in such a divine 
 solemnity is of all things the most indecent and unbecom- 
 ing, I think such should be held up to ridicule, as a warn- 
 ing to all Christians never to ask ignorance or absurdity 
 to perform this sacred duty in public. The sublime part 
 of it therefore is given, which was meant as a fence 
 against the spirit that had set up his rest so near. To 
 such as are not acquainted with the pastoral terms, the 
 meaning in some parts may be equivocal ; to those who 
 are, the train of thinking will be obvious. 
 
 ' ' But the last time we gathered oursels before thee, we 
 left out a wing o' the hirsel by mistake, an' thou hast paid 
 us hame i' our ain coin. Thou wart sae gude than as 
 come to the sheddin thysel. an' clap our heads, an' whis- 
 l er i' our lugs, * dinna be disheartened, my puir bits o' 
 waefu' things, for though ye be the shotts o' my hale 
 
134 THE BROWNIE 
 
 fauld, I'll take care o' ye, an' herd ye, an' gie ye a' that 
 ye hae askit o' me the night.' It was kind, an' them hast 
 done it ; but we forgot a principal part, an' maun tell 
 thee now, that we have had another visitor sin' ye war 
 here, an' ane wha's back we wad rather see than his face. 
 Thou kens better thysel than we can tell thee what place 
 he has made his escape frae ; but we sair dread it is frae 
 the boddomless pit, or he wadna hae ta'en possession but 
 leave. Ye ken, that gang tried to keep vilent leasehaud 
 o' your ain fields, an' your ain ha', till ye gae them a 
 killicoup. If he be ane o' them, O come thysel to our 
 help, an' bring in thy hand a bolt o' divine vengeance, 
 het i' the furnace o' thy wrath as reed as a nailstring, 
 an' bizz him an' scouder him till ye dinna leave him 
 the likeness of a paper izel, until he be glad to creep 
 into the worm-holes o' the earth, never to see sun or 
 sterns mair. But, if it be some puir dumfoundered soul 
 that has been bumbased and stoundit at the view o' 
 the lang Hopes an' the Downfa's o' Eternity, corned 
 daundering away frae about the laiggen girds o' heaven 
 to the waefu' gang that he left behind, like a lost sheep 
 that strays frae the rich pastures o' the south, and comes 
 bleating back a' the gate to its cauld native hills, to the 
 very gair where it was lambed and first followed its minny, 
 ane canna help haeing a fellow-feeling wi' the puir soul 
 after a', but yet he'll find himsel here like a cow in an 
 unco lone. Therefore, furnish him this night wi'the 
 wings o' the wild gainner or the eagle, that he may swoof 
 away back to a better hame than this, for we want nane 
 o' his company. An' do thou give to the puir stray thing 
 a weel-hained heff and a beildy lair, that he may nae mair 
 come straggling amang a stock that's sae unlike himsel, 
 that they're frightit at the very look o' him. 
 
 " Thou hast promised in thy Word to be our shepherd, 
 our guider an' director. Therefore gather us a' in 
 frae the cauld windy knowes o' self-conceit the plashy 
 bogs an' mires o' sensuality, an' the damp flows o 1 world- 
 ly-mindedness, an' wyse us a' into the true bught o' 
 life, made o' the flakes o' forgiveness and the door o' 
 
OF BODSBECK. 135 
 
 loving-kindness ; an' never do thou suffer us to be 
 heftit e'ening or morning, but gie lashin* meals o' the 
 milk o' praise, the ream o' thankfu'ness, an' the butter 
 o' good works. An' do thou, in thy good time an' 
 way, smear us ower the hale bouk wi' the tar o' 
 adversity, weel mixed up wi' the meinging of re- 
 pentance, that we may be kiver'd ower wi' gude bouzy 
 shake-rough fleeces o* faith, a* run out on the hips, an' 
 as brown as a tod. An' do thou, moreover, fauld us 
 ower-night, an' every night, in within the true sheep-fauld 
 o' thy covenant, weel buggen wi' the stanes o' salvation, 
 an' caped wi' the divots o' grace. An' then wi' sic a 
 shepherd, an' sic a sheep-fauld, what hae we to be feared 
 for ? Na, na ! we'll fear naething but sin ! We'll never 
 mair scare at the poolly- woolly o' the whaup, nor swirl 
 at the gelloch o' the ern ; for if the arm of our Shepherd 
 be about us for good, a' the imps, an' a' the powers o' 
 darkness, canna wrang a hair o' our heads." 
 
 All the family arose from their knees with altered looks. 
 Thus fenced, a new energy glowed in every breast. Poor 
 Maysey, proud of her husband's bold and sublime inter- 
 cession, and trusting in the divine fence now raised around 
 them, rose with the tear in her eye, seized the lamp, and 
 led the way, followed by all the rest, to retake the apart- 
 ment of Kirky's ghost by open assault. Nanny, whose 
 faith wont to be superior to all these things, lagged be- 
 hind, dreading to see the sight that she had seen on the 
 Saturday night before ; and the bold intercessor himself 
 kept her company, on pretence of a sleeping leg ; but, in 
 truth, his faith in his own intercession and fence did not 
 mount very high. All the apartment was searched 
 every chest, corner, and hole that could be thought of 
 every thing was quiet, and not so much as a mouse stir- 
 ring ! not a bed-cover folded down, nor the smallest re- 
 membered article missing ! All the family saw Kirky's 
 ghost enter in his own likeness, and heard him speak in 
 
136 THE BROWNIE 
 
 his wonted tongue, except old Nanny. It was a great 
 and wonderful victory gained. They were again in full 
 possession of their own house, a right which they never 
 seemed before to have duly appreciated. They felt grate- 
 ful and happy ; and it was hinted by Maysey, Dan, and 
 uncle Nicholas, that Davie Tait would turn out a burning 
 and a shining light in these dark and dismal times, and 
 would supersede Messrs Ren wick, Shields, and all the 
 curates in the country. He had laid a visible ghost, that 
 might be the devil for aught they knew to the contrary ; 
 and it was argued on all hands, that " Davie was nae 
 sma' drink." 
 
 The whole of the simple group felt happy and grateful ; 
 and they agreed to sit another hour or two before they 
 went to sleep, and each one read a chapter from the Bible, 
 and recite a psalm or hymn. They did so, until it came 
 to Nanny's turn. She laid her hands across each other 
 on her breast, turned in the balls of her half-closed eyes so 
 that nothing was seen but the white, and, with her face 
 raised upwards, and a slow rocking motion, she sung the 
 following hymn, to a strain the most solemn that ever was 
 heard. 
 
 O thou, who dwell'st in the heavens high, 
 Above yon stars, and within yon sky, 
 Where the dazzling field^never needed light 
 Of the sun by day, nor the moon by night ! 
 
 Though shining' millions around thee stand, 
 For the sake of one that's at thy right hand, 
 O think of them that have cost him dear, 
 Still chained in doubt and in darkness here ! 
 
 Our night is dreary, and dim our day ; 
 And if thou turnest thy face away, 
 We are sinful, feeble, and helpless dust, 
 And have none to look to, and none to trust. 
 
 The powers of darkness are all abroad, 
 They own no Saviour, and fear no God ; 
 And we are trembling in dumb dismay, 
 O turn not thus thy face away ! 
 
 Our morning dawn is with clouds o'erspread, 
 And our evening fall is a bloody red ; 
 And the groans are heard on the mountain swarlh ; 
 Tlttsre is blood in heaven, and blood on earth. 
 
OF BODSBECK. 13? 
 
 A life of scorn for us thou did'st lead, 
 And in the grave laid thy blessed head ; 
 Then think of those who undauntedly 
 Have laid down life and all for thee. 
 
 Thou wilt not turn them forth in wrath, 
 To walk this world of sin and death, 
 In shadowy dim deformity? 
 O God, it may not cannot be ! 
 
 Thy aid, O mighty One, we crave ! 
 Not shortened is thy arm to save. 
 Afar from thee we now sojourn ; 
 Return to us, O God, return ! 
 
 This hymn affected the family group in no ordinary 
 degree ; it made the hairs of their head creep, and 
 thrilled their simple hearts, easily impressed by divine 
 things, while their looks strongly expressed their feel- 
 ings. None of them would read or recite any thing far- 
 ther, but entreated Nanny to say it over again, affirming, 
 with one voice, that "it was an extrodnar thing." 
 
 " Ah ! dear, dear bairns ! I dinna ken about it," said 
 she; "he was a good cannie lad that made it, but he 
 mixed wi' the scoffers, and turned to hae his doubts and his 
 failings like mony ane, (Lord forgie us a' for our share in 
 them ;) he seems even to have doubted o' the Omnipre- 
 sence when he penned that, which was far far wrang." 
 
 And thus I must close this long and eccentric chapter. 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 NEXT morning Davie Tait was early astir, and not 
 having any thing better to do, he took his plaid and staff 
 and set out towards Whithope-head, to see what was be- 
 come of his five scores of ewes, the poor remains of a good 
 stock. Davie went slowly up the brae towards Riskin- 
 hope-swire, for the events of last night were fresh in his 
 mind, and he was conning a new prayer to suit some 
 M 2 
 
138 THE BROWNIE 
 
 other great emergency ; for Davie began to think that by 
 fervent prayer very great things might be accomplished 
 that perhaps the floods of the earth and the winds of 
 heaven might be restrained in their course ; and that even 
 the Hermon Law might be removed out of its place. 
 He had, therefore, his eye fixed on a little green gair 
 before him, where he was determined to try his influence 
 with heaven once more ; for his heart was lifted up, as 
 he afterwards confessed, and he was hasting to that little 
 gair to kneel down and ask a miracle, nothing doubting. 
 Let any one guess, if he can, what Davie Tait was 
 going to ask. It was not that the rains and storms of 
 heaven might be restrained, nor that the mountains might 
 be removed out of their places ; but Davie was going to 
 pray, that "when he went over at the Hewn -gate-end, 
 as soon as he came in sight of Whithope, he might see 
 all his master's ewes again ; all his old friends, every one 
 of which he knew by head-mark, going spread and bleat- 
 ing on their old walk from the Earl Hill all the way to 
 the Braid-heads." So intent was Davie on this grand pro- 
 ject, that he walked himself out of breath against the hill, 
 in order to get quickly at the little gair to put his scheme 
 in execution ; but, as he sagely observed, it had been 
 graciously fore-ordained that he should not commit this 
 great folly and iniquity. He paused to take his breath ; 
 and in pausing he turned about, as every man does who 
 stops short in climbing a hill. The scene that met Davie's 
 eye cut his breath shorter than the steep his looks were 
 rivetted on the haugh at Chapelhope he could scarcely 
 believe his own eyes, though he rubbed them again and 
 again, and tried their effects on all things around. " Good 
 Lord !" said Davie, " what a world do we live in ! Gin 
 a hale synat had sworn, I coudna hae believed this ! My 
 sooth, but the Brownie o' Bodsbeck has had a busy night !" 
 Walter of Chapelhope had ten acres of as good corn as 
 ever grew in a moorland district. Davie knew, that wher 
 he went to his bed the evening before, that corn was all 
 growing in the field, dead ripe, and ready for the sickle ; 
 and he had been lamenting that very night that such a 
 
OF BODSBECK. 139 
 
 crop should be lost for want of reapers, in a season when 
 there was so much need for it. But now Davie saw that 
 one half of that crop at least was shorn during the night, 
 all standing in tight shocks, rowed and hooded, with their 
 ends turned to the south-west.-^ Well might Davie exclaim, 
 " My sooth, but the Brownie of Bodsbeck has had a busy 
 night !" 
 
 Davie thought no more of his five scores of ewes, nor 
 of his prayer, nor the miracle that was to take place in 
 consequence of that, but turned and ran back to Riskin- 
 hope as fast as his feet would carry him, to arouse the 
 rest of the people, and apprise them of this wonderful 
 event that had occurred beneath their noses, as he called 
 it. He did so, and all of them rose with wonder and 
 astonishment, and agreed to go across the lake and look 
 at the Brownie's workmanship. Away they went in a 
 body to the edge of the stubble, but durst not set foot 
 thereon for fear of being affected by enchantment in some 
 way or another ; but they saw that the corn had been 
 shorn exactly like other corn, except that it was rather 
 more neat and clean than ordinary. The sheaves were 
 bound in the same way as other bandsters bind them ; 
 and in the shocking, the corn-knots were all set outermost. 
 " Weel, is not he a most unaccountable fellow that 
 Brownie of Bodsbeck ?" said Davie Tait. 
 
 While they were thus standing in a row at the side of 
 the shorn field, wondering at the prowess and agility of 
 Brownie, and trying to make some random calculations of 
 the thousands of cuts that he had made with his hook that 
 night, Katharine went by at a little distance, driving her 
 father's cows afield, and at the same time directing her 
 father's dog far up the hill to turn the ewes from the Quave 
 Brae. She was dressed in her usual neat morning habit, 
 with a white short-gown, green petticoat, and her dark 
 locks bound up with a scarlet snood ; she was scolding 
 and cajoling the dog in a blithsome and good-humoured 
 way, and scarcely bestowing a look on the workmanship 
 of her redoubted Brownie, or seeming to regard it. 
 
 " Ay, ye may speel the brae, Keatie Laidlaw," said 
 
140 THE BROWNIE 
 
 Davie Tait, apostrophising her, but shaking his head all 
 the while, and speaking in a low voice, that his fellow- 
 servants only might hear " Ay, ye may speel the brae, 
 Keatie Laidlaw, an' drive your ewes an' your kye where 
 ye like ; but wae's me for ye ! Ye hae a weel-faurd face 
 o' your ain, an' a mak that's liker to an angel than a thing 
 o' flesh an' blude ; but och ! what a foul heart ye boud 
 to hae within ! And how are ye to stand the aftercome ? 
 There will be a black reckoning with you some day. I 
 wadna that my fit war i' your shoe the night for a' the 
 ewes on the Lang Bank." 
 
 Old Nanny went over, as usual, and assisted her to 
 milk the cows, and make the butter -and cheese, but spoke 
 no word that day to her young mistress, good or bad. She 
 regarded her with a kind of awe, and often took a long 
 stolen look of her as one does of a dog that he is afraid 
 may be going mad. 
 
 As the people of Riskinhope went home, Dan chanced 
 to say jocularly, " He's a clever fellow the Brownie I 
 wish he would come and shear our croft too.'' 
 
 " Foul fa' the tongue that said it,'' quoth Davie, "an* 
 the heart that thought the ill ! Ye think na how easily 
 he's forespoken. It was but last night I said he hadna 
 wrought to the gudeman for half his meat, an' ye see what 
 he has done already. I spake o' him again, and he came 
 in bodily. Ye should take care what ye say here, for ye 
 little ken wha's hearing. Ye're i* the very same predic- 
 ament, billy Dan, as the tod was in the orchard, ' Afore 
 I war at this speed,' quo' he, * I wad rather hae my tail 
 cuttit off,' he hadna the word weel said before he stepped 
 into a trap, which struck, and snapt off his tail ' It's a 
 queer place this,' quo' he ; ' ane canna speak a word but 
 it is taen in nettle-earnest.' F the same way is Brownie 
 likely to guide you ; an' therefore, to prevent him taking 
 you at your word, we'll e'en gang an' begin the shearing 
 oursels." 
 
 Davie went in to seek out the hooks ; he knew there 
 were half-a-dozen lying above the bed in the room where 
 the spirit had been the night before. They were gone ! 
 
OF BODSBECK. 141 
 
 not a sickle was there ! Davie returned, scratching his 
 head, biting his lip, and looking steadily down to the 
 ground. " It hasna been Kirky's ghost after a'," said he ; 
 " it has been Brownie, or some o' his gang, borrowing 
 our hooks." 
 
 Davie lost all hope of working any great change in the 
 country by dint of prayer. His faith, which never was 
 great, gave way ; but yet he always said, that when he 
 was hasting up to the rash-bush in the little green gair 
 that morning, to pray for the return of his master's ewes, 
 it was at least equal to a grain of mustard-seed. 
 
 About eight days after that, when the moon was in the 
 wane, the rest of Walter's corn was all cut down in one 
 night, and a part of 'the first safely stowed in the barn- 
 yard. About the same time, too, the shepherds began to 
 smear their flocks at a small sheep-house and fold, built 
 for the purpose near to the forkings of the Chapel- 
 hope-burn. It is a custom with them to mix as much 
 tar with grease before they begin as they deem sufficient 
 to smear all the sheep on the farm, or at least one hirsell 
 of them. This the herds of Chapelhope did ; but, on 
 the very second morning after they began, they perceived 
 that a good deal of their tar was wanting ; and judging 
 that it had been stolen, they raised a terrible affray about 
 it with their neighbours of Riskinhope and Corse-cleuch. 
 Finding no marks of it, old John Hoy said, " We must 
 give it up, callants, for lost ; there is nae doubt but some 
 of the fishers about Dryhope has stown it for fish-lights. 
 There are a set of the terriblest poachers live there that's 
 in all the Forest." 
 
 In the afternoon John went out to the Ox-cleugh-head, 
 to bring in a houseful of white sheep, and to his utter 
 astonishment saw that upwards of an hundred ewes had 
 been smeared during the night, by the officious and un- 
 wearied Brownie of Bodsbeck. " The plague be in his 
 fingers," quoth old John to himself, "gin he haena 
 smeared crocks an' fat sheep, an' a' that has come in his 
 uay. This will never do." 
 
 Though the very hairs of John's head stood, on coining 
 
142 THE BROWNIE 
 
 near to the sheep that had been smeared by Brownie, yet 
 seeing that his sensible dog Keilder was nothing afraid 
 of them, but managed them in the same way as he did 
 other sheep, John grew by degrees less suspicious of them. 
 He confessed, however, as he was shedding them from 
 the white ones, that there was a ewe of Brownie's smear- 
 ing came running by very near him, and he could not 
 help giving a great jump out of her way. 
 
 All shepherds are accused of indolence, and not, per- 
 haps, without some reason. Though John dreaded as 
 death all connexion with Brownie, yet he rejoiced at the 
 progress they were likely to make in the smearing, for it 
 is a dirty and laborious business, and he was glad by any 
 means to get a share of it off his hands, especially as the 
 season was so far advanced. So John took in to the fold 
 twice as many sheep as they needed for their own smear- 
 ing, put the crocks and the fat sheep out from among 
 them, and left them in the house to their fate, taking 
 good care to be out of sight of the place before dark. 
 Next morning a certain quantity of tar was again gone, 
 and the sheep were all neatly smeared and keeled, and 
 set to the hill. This practice the shepherds continued 
 throughout smearing-time, and whether they housed many 
 or few at night, they were still all smeared and set to the 
 hill again next morning. The smearing of Chapelhope 
 was finished in less than one-third of its wonted time. 
 Never was the labour of a farm accomplished with such 
 expedition and exactness, although there were none to 
 work, to superintend, or direct it, but one simple maid en. 
 It became the wonder and theme of the whole country, 
 and has continued to be a standing winter evening tale to 
 this day. Where is the cottager, dwelling between the 
 Lowthers and Cheviot, who has not heard tell of the feats 
 of the Brownie of Bodsbeck ? 
 
OF BODSBECK. J43 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 WALTER was hardly used in prison for some time, but 
 at last Drummelzier found means of rendering his situa- 
 tion more tolerable. Several of his associates that were 
 conducted with him from Dumfries died in jail ; he said 
 they seemed to have been forgotten both by the council 
 and their friends, but they kept up so good a heart, arid 
 died with such apparent satisfaction, that he could scarcely 
 be sorry for their release by death, though he acknow- 
 ledged, that a happiness beyond the grave was always the 
 last kind of happiness that he wished to his friends. His 
 own trial was a fire-side theme for him as long as he lived, 
 but he confounded names, and law terms, and all, so much 
 through other, that, were it given wholly in his own words, 
 it would be unintelligible. It took place on the 12th of 
 November, and Sir George Lockhart and Mr Alexander 
 Hay were his counsel. His indictment bore, that he had 
 sheltered on his farm a set of the most notorious and ir- 
 reclaimable rebels in the whole realm ; that sundry of his 
 majesty's right honest liege subjects had been cruelly 
 murdered there, very near to the prisoner's house, and a 
 worthy curate in the immediate vicinity. It stated the 
 immense quantity of victuals found in his house, and the 
 numbers of fugitive whigs that were seen skulking in the 
 boundaries of his farm ; and also how some false delin- 
 quents were taken and executed there. 
 
 Clavers was present, as he had a right to be when he 
 desired it, and gave strong and decided evidence against 
 him. The time had been, and not long agone, when, if 
 the latter had manifested such sentiments against any one, 
 it had been sufficient for his death-warrant ; but the killing 
 time was now nearly over, and those in power were only 
 instituting trials in order to impose heavy fines and penal- 
 ties, that they might glean as much of the latter vintage of 
 that rich harvest as possible, before the sickle was finally 
 reft from their grasp. Several witnesses were examined 
 
144 THE BROWNIE 
 
 to prove the above accusations, and among the rest Daniel 
 Roy Macpherson, whose deposition was fair, manly, and 
 candid. As soon as his examination was over, he came 
 and placed himself near to Walter, who rejoiced to see 
 him, and deemed that he saw in him the face of a friend. 
 
 Witnesses were next called to prove his striking Cap- 
 tain Bruce with his fist, and also tripping the heels from 
 Ingles, and tossing him over a steep, while in the discharge 
 of his duty, whereby he was rendered unable to proceed 
 in the king's business. Walter, being himself examined 
 on these points, confessed both, but tried to exculpate him- 
 self as well as he could. 
 
 "As to Bruce, my masters," said he, " I didna ken 
 that he was a captain, or what he was ; he pu'd up his 
 bit shabble of a sword an* dang aff my bonnet, when I 
 was a free man i' my ain ben-end. I likit nae sic free- 
 doms, as I had never been used wi' them, sae I took up 
 my neive an' gae him a yank on the haffat till I gart his 
 bit brass cap rattle against the wa'. I wonder ye dinna 
 ceete me too for nippin' Jock Graham's neck there, as he 
 ca'd himsel, that day, an' his friend Tarn Liviston There's 
 nae word o' that the day ! Nah ! but I could tell an I 
 likit what I hae been put to a' this plague for." 
 
 Here the advocate stopped him, by observing that he 
 was wandering from the point in question, and his own 
 counsel were always trembling for him when he began to 
 speak for himself. Being asked what defence he had to 
 offer for kicking and maltreating a king's officer in the 
 discharge of his duty ? 
 
 "If it was that drunken dirt Ingles that ye mean," 
 said Walter, " I dinna ken what ye ca' a man's duty here, 
 but it surely coudna be a duty, when my hands war tied 
 ahint my back, to kick me i' the wame ; an' that's what 
 he was doing wi' a' his pith, whan I gart him flee heels- 
 ower-head like a batch o' skins." 
 
 Sir George MacKenzie and Dalrymple of Stair both 
 laughed outright at this answer, and it was some time be- 
 fore the business could proceed. Sir George Lockhart, 
 however, compelled them to relinquish these parts of the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 145 
 
 indictment, on account of the treatment offered to the pris- 
 oner, and the trial proceeded on the charges previously 
 mentioned, which were found relevant. Walter was utter- 
 ly confounded at the defence made for him by Sir George 
 Lockhart. He was wont to say, " Aih, but he's a terrible 
 clever body yon Geordie Lockie : od, he kend mair about 
 me, and mair that was in my favour, than I did mysel." 
 
 The conclusion of this trial must be given in Walter's 
 own phrase. " I pretendit to be very crouse, an' no ae 
 bit fear'd aha ! 1 was unco fear'd for a' that I coudna 
 swally my spittle for the hale day, an' I fand a kind o' 
 foost, foost, foostin about my briskit that I coudna win 
 aneath ava. But when the chield MacKenzie began to 
 clink thegither the evidence against me, gude faith I thought 
 it was a' ower wi' me then ; I saw nae outgate, an' lost 
 a' hope ; mair than aince I tried to think o' auld Maron 
 Linton an' the bairns, but I could think about naething, 
 for I thought the house was heaving up i' the tae side, 
 and gaun to whommel a' the judges an' jurymen on the 
 tap o' me. He revertit aye to the evidence of Clerk the 
 curate, wha had said that I had a private correspondence 
 wi' the whigs, an' then he brought a' the ither proof to 
 bear upon that, till he made my guilt perfectly plain ; an' 
 faith I coudna say that the chiel guessed far wrang. Then 
 my Lord Moray, wha was head judge that day, was just 
 gaun to address the jurymen, an' direct them to hang 
 me, when up gat Geordie Lockie again for the hindmost 
 time ; (he had as mony links an' wimples in his tail as an 
 eel, that body,) an' he argyed some point o' law that gart 
 them a' glowr ; at last he said, that it was hard, on a 
 point of life an' death, to take the report of a man that 
 wasna present to make oath to the information he had 
 gi'en, which might be a slander to gain some selfish end ; 
 and he prayed, for the satisfaction of the jury, that his 
 client might be examined on that point, (he ca'd me aye 
 a client, a name that I abhorred, for I didna ken the mean- 
 ing o't, but I trowed it meant nae good,) for, says he, he 
 has answered very freely, and much to the point, a' that 
 ye hae speered at him. I was just considering what I 
 
 I. N 
 
146 THE BROWNIE 
 
 should say, but I could get nought to say ava, when I was 
 startit wi' a loud Hem ! just amaist at my elbow. I 
 naturally liftit up my een, very stupit-like, I dare say, to 
 see what it was ; and wha was it but the queer Highland 
 chap, Roy Macpherson, makin' sic faces to me as ye never 
 saw. I thought he was wanting to mak me recollect 
 something, but what it was I coudna tell. I was dum- 
 foundered sae, that when the judge put the question to 
 me about Clerk I never answered a word, for I was fore- 
 foughten wi' another thought. At length I mindit the 
 daft advice that honest Macpherson gae me at parting with 
 me in Dumfries, which was sic a ridiculous advice I had 
 never thought o't mair. But now, thinks I to mysel, 
 things canna be muckle waur wi' me ; the scrow's come 
 fairly to the neb o' the miresnipe now ; an' never had I 
 better reason to be angry than at the base curate whom 
 I had fed an' clad sae aften. Sae I musters a' my wrath 
 up into my face, and when the judge, or the advocate, 
 put the question again, I never heedit what it was, but 
 set up my birses an' spak to them as they had been my 
 herd callants. What the deil are ye a' after ? quoth I. 
 Curse the hale pack o' ye, do you think that auld 
 Wat Laidlaw's a whig, or wad do aught against his king, 
 or the laws o' his country? They ken little about him 
 that say sae ! I aince fought twa o' the best o' them 
 armed wi' swords, an' wi' nought but my staff I laid them 
 baith flat at my feet ; an' had I ony twa o' ye on Chapel- 
 hope-flow thegither, if ye dared to say that I was a whig, 
 or a traitor to my king, I wad let ye find strength o' arm 
 for aince. Here the wily chap Geordie Lockie stappit 
 me in great agitation, and beggit me to keep my temper, 
 and answer his lordship to the point, what defence I had to 
 make against the information given by Clerk the curate ? 
 He the wretch ! said I : he kens the contrair o' that ower 
 weel ; but he kend he wad be master an' mair when he 
 gat me away frae about the town. He wantit to wheedle 
 my wife out o 1 ilk thing she had, an' to kiss my daughter 
 too, if he could. Vile brock ! gin I war name at him 
 111 dad his head to the wa' ; ay, an' ony twa o' ye forby, 
 
OF BODSBECK. K7 
 
 quo' I, raising my voice, an' shaking that neive at them, 
 ony twa o' ye that dare set up your faces an' say 
 that I'm a whig or a rebel. A wheen d d rascals, that 
 dinna ken what ye wad be at I 
 
 " The hale court was thunnerstruck, an' glowred at ane 
 anither like wullcats. I gae a sklent wi' my ee to Daniel 
 Roy Macpherson, an' he was leaned ower the back o' the 
 seat, an' fa'n into a kink o' laughing. The hale crowd 
 ahint us got up wi' a great hurrah ! an' clappit their hands, 
 an' I thought the fock war a* gaen mad thegither. As 
 soon as there was a wee quiet, my lord the Earl o' Moray 
 he speaks across to Clavers, an' he says : ' This winna do, 
 my lord ; that carl's nae whig, nor naethingakin to them. 
 Gin that be nae a sound worthy man, I never saw ane, 
 nor heard ane speak.' An' wi' that the croud shoutit an' 
 clappit their hands again. I sat hinging my head then, 
 an' looking very blate, but I was unco massy for a' that. 
 They then spak amang themsels for five or sax minents, 
 and they cried on my master Drummelzier, an' he gaed up 
 an' crackit wi' them too ; an' at last the judge tauld me, 
 that the prosecution against me was drappit for the present, 
 an' that gin I could raise security for twa thousand merks, 
 to appear again if cited before the first of June, 1686, I 
 was at liberty to go about my business. I thankit his 
 lordship ; but thinks I to mysel, ye're a wheen queer 
 chaps ! Ye shoot fock for praying an' reading the bible, 
 an' whan ane curses an* damns ye, ye ca' him a true honest 
 man ! I wish ye be nae the deil's bairns, the halewort 
 o' ye ! Drummelzier an' Lockie cam' security for me at 
 aince, an' away I sets for hame, as weel satisfied as ever 
 I was a' my life, that I mind o'. 
 
 " Weel, when I came out to the closs at the back o' the 
 prison, a* the fock croudit about me ; an' he shook hands wi* 
 me ; an' the young chaps they hurra'd an' waved their caps, 
 an' cried out, Ettrick Forest for ever ! Auld Braid-Bon- 
 net for ever, hurra ! An' I cam up the Lawn- Market, 
 an' down the Bow, wi' sic an army at my tail, as I had 
 been gaun away to fight Boddell-Brigg ower again. 
 
 " I now begoud to think it wad be as weel to gie the 
 
143 THE BROWNIE 
 
 lads the slip, for my army was gathering like a snaw-ba', 
 an' I little wist how sic a hobbleshue might end ; sae I 
 jinkit into Geordie Allan's, at the West-Port, where I 
 had often been afore, when selling my eild ewes and cha- 
 sers ; an' I whispered to them to keep out my sodgers, 
 for there were too many of them for the house to haud ; 
 but they not perfectly understanding my jest, I was not 
 well entered ere I heard a loud altercation at the head o' 
 the stair, an' the very first aith that I heard I knew it to 
 be Macpherson." 
 
 " Py Cot's preath, put she shall pe coing in ; were 
 not she her friend and counshel ?" 
 
 " You his counsel ? A Serjeant of dragoons his coun- 
 sel ? That winna do. He charged that nae sodgers 
 should get in. Get aff wi' your Hieland impudence 
 brazen-faced thief !" 
 
 " Fat? Tief ? Cot t n y' mack-en dhu na bhaish ! 
 M'Leadle ! Trocho ! Hollo ! Cresorst !" 
 
 " I ran to the door to take the enraged veteran in my 
 arms, and welcome him as my best friend and adviser, 
 but they had bolted the inner door in his face, through 
 which he had run his sword amaist to the hilt, an' he was 
 tugging an' pu'ing at it' to get it out again, swearing a' the 
 time like a true dragoon. I led him into my room, an' 
 steekit the door o't, but there he stood wi' his feet asperr, 
 and his drawn sword at arm's length ahint his back, in 
 act to make a lounge at the door, till he had exhausted a' 
 his aiths, baith in Gaelic an' English, at the fock o* the 
 house, and then he sheathed his sword, and there was nae 
 mair about it. 
 
 '' I speered what I could do to oblige him ?" 
 
 " Hu, not creat moach at hall, man ; only pe kiffing 
 me your hand. Py McTavish, More, put if you tit not 
 stonish tern ! Vas not I peen telling you tat him's hearty 
 curse pe te cood ?" 
 
 " My certy," quo' I, "but ye did do that, or I wad 
 never hae thought o't ; ye're an auld-farrant honest chiel ! 
 I am sorry that I canna just now make ye sic a present 
 as ye deserve ; but ye maun come out an' see me." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 149 
 
 " Present ! Poo, poo, poo ! Teol more take te 
 present tat pe coing petween friends, and she may have 
 sharper works tan pe coing visits ; put not te more, she 
 pe haifing small favour to seek." 
 
 "Od, man," says I, "ye hae been the mean o' pre- 
 serving my life, an' ye sanna ax a thing that I'll refuse, 
 e'en to my ain doughter. An' by the by, Serjeant, gin 
 ye want a good wife, an' a bonny ane, I'll gie ye sic a 
 tocher wi' my Keatie, as never was gi'en wi' a farmer's 
 lassie i' the Forest." 
 
 " Hu ! Cot pe plessing you ! She haif cot wife, and 
 fery hexcellent boddach, with two childs after him." 
 
 " What is it then, serjeant ? Gin the thing be in my 
 power, ye hae naething ado but to say the word." 
 
 " Do you know tat her nainsell pe coosin to yourself?" 
 
 " Od, man," quo' I, " that's hardly possible, or else 
 the taen o' us has come o' the wrang side o' the blanket." 
 
 " Now do you just pe holding your paice for a fery less 
 time, for you must halways pe spaik spaiking, without 
 knowing fat to say, unless I were putting it into your haid. 
 I haif tould ould Simon Glas Macrhimmon, who knows 
 all the pedigrees from the creation of the world, and he 
 says that te Lheadles are Macphersons ; for, in the days 
 of Rory More of Ballindalloch and Invereshie, tere was te 
 Gordons, who would pe making grheat prhogress on te 
 Sassenach, and tere went down wit Strabogie of te clan 
 Ahnderson, and te clan Grhaham, and one Letulloch Mac- 
 pherson of Strathneshalloch, vit as bould a clan after her as 
 any and mhore ; and they would pe toing creat might upon 
 the Sassenach, and they would pe killing her in tousands, 
 and ten she cot crheat lhands out of King Robert on te 
 Bhorder, and Letulloch he had a whoule country to him- 
 self. But te people could not pe putting her nhame into 
 worts, and instead of Letulloch tey called her Leadlea, 
 and te Sassenach she called her Little, so that all tese are 
 of Macpherson, and you may pe te chief, and te forward 
 son of te crheat Strathneshalloch himself. Now tat I 
 would pe te tog, and te shame, and te tisgrhace, not to 
 help my owhn poor clansman and prhother out of te evil, 
 N 2 
 
150 THE BROWNIE 
 
 tat would pe worse eneuch; and te ting tat I would pe 
 asking of you is tis, tat you will always look upon a 
 Macpherson as a prhother until te end of te world, and 
 pe standing py her as long as tere is peing one trop of 
 plood in your whole poty." 
 
 " Gude faith, serjeant," says I, " I never was sae hap- 
 py as to find, that the man to whom I hae been sae muckle 
 obliged is sic a noble disinterested chiel ; an' there's my 
 hand, I'll never gie up the cause of a Macpherson, if he's 
 in the right." 
 
 '* Hu ! Never mind your right ! a clansman speak of the 
 right ! Any man will stand py me when I am in te right, 
 put wit a prhother I must always pe in te right. No 
 right or wrong tere, ! Poo, poo !" 
 
 " Od, man," quo' I, "that's a stretch o' billyhood that 
 I was never up to afore, but sin* ye say't, may I never 
 see the Hermon Law again gif I winna stand by it. 
 Come, then, we'll hae a stoup o' brandy, or a bottle o' 
 wine thegither, for a parting cup." 
 
 " Hu ! -no, no ! None of your prandies or your wines 
 for me ! I must pe on duty in less than an hour, and I 
 would not pe tasting any of your tamn prandies or wines. 
 No, no ! Cot pless you ! And should she never pe see- 
 ing your face again, you will pe " 
 
 " He could say nae mair, for the muckle round tears 
 were coming hopping down ower his weather-beaten cheek, 
 but he gae my hand a hard squeeze an' a shake, an' brak 
 out at the door ; an' that was my last sight of honest 
 Daniel Roy Macpherson, a man that I hae met few like ! 
 I was tauld lang after, that he fell fighting like a lion 
 against the Campbells, at the battle o' Killiecranky, and 
 that, to the last day o' his life, he spake o' his kinsman, 
 ould MacLeadle." 
 
OF BODSBECK. 151 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IT was on the inauspicious night of All- Hallow-eve, 
 that Walter arrived again at his own house, after so long 
 an absence; but some of the farmers of Manor- Water, 
 his acquaintances, were so overjoyed at seeing him again, 
 that they persuaded him to go in, taste of their cheer, 
 and relate his adventures and his trial to them ; and so 
 long was he detained in this way, that it was dark before 
 he left Dollar- Burn ; yet so anxious was he to get home 
 to his family, and all unconscious that it was Hallow-E'en 
 the great jubilee of the fairies and all the spirits of these 
 mountain regions, he set out on his journey homeward, 
 across the dreary moors of Meggat-dale. Walter found 
 his way full well, for he knew every brae, height, and de- 
 clivity by the way, and many delightful little dreams was 
 he cherishing in his heart, how he would surprise Maron 
 an' the bairns by his arrival, and how extravagantly de- 
 lighted his excellent and generous dog Reaver would be ; 
 for he often said, " he had mair sense about him than 
 what was a beast's good right ;" but, above all, his mind 
 dwelt most on his dear lassie Kate, as he called her. He 
 had been informed by Drummelzier of all that she had 
 done for him, who gave her a character so high before 
 some friends of his who were present, that Walter never 
 was so proud in his life, and he longed, with all a father's 
 fondness, to clasp " his bit dear kind-heartit lassie " again 
 in his arms. 
 
 With all these delightful and exhilarating thoughts 
 glowing in his breast, how could that wild and darksome 
 road, or indeed any road, be tedious to our honest good- 
 man '? For, as to the evil spirits with whom his beloved 
 Keatie was in conjunction, the idea had died away like a 
 thing of the imagination, and he barely spent a thought 
 upon it. He crossed the Meggat about eleven o'clock in 
 the night, just as the waning moon began to peep over 
 the hills to the south-east of the lake, but such scenes, 
 
152 THE BROWNIE 
 
 and such adventures, are not worth a farthing, unless de- 
 scribed and related in the language of the country to which 
 they are peculiar. 
 
 " I fand I was come again into the country o' the fairies 
 an' the spirits," said Walter ; "an' there was nae deny- 
 ing o't ; for when I saw the bit crookit moon come steal- 
 ing o'er the kipps o' Bowerhope-Law, an' thraw her dead 
 yellow light on the hills o' Meggat, I fand the very nature 
 an' the heart within me changed. A' the hills on the tae 
 side o' the loch war as dark as pitch, an' the tither side 
 had. that ill-hued colour on't, as if they had been a' rowed 
 in their winding sheets ; an' then the shadow o' the moon 
 it gaed bobbing an' quivering up the loch foment me, like 
 a streek o' cauld fire. In spite o' my teeth I turned eiry, 
 an' the mair I feucht against it I grew the eiryer, for 
 whenever the spirits come near ane, that kind o' feeling 
 comes on. 
 
 " Weel, just as I was gaun round the end o' the Wed- 
 der-Law, a wee bit aboon the head o' the Braken Wood, 
 1 sees a white thing on the road afore me. At the 
 first it appeared to be gaun away, but at length I saw it 
 coming nearer an' nearer me, keeping aye a little aboon 
 the road till I came amaist close to it, an' then it stood 
 stane-still an' glowred at me. What in the wide world 
 can it be that is here at sic an untimely time o' night as 
 this? thinks I to mysel. However, I steps aye on, an' 
 wasna gaun to mak nor meddle wi't ava, till at last, just 
 as I was gaun by, it says in a soft low voice, " Wow, 
 friend, but ye gang late the night !" 
 
 "Faith, no muckle later than yoursel," quo' I, "gin 
 it be your will.' 
 
 " O'er late on sic a night I" quoth the creature again ; 
 " o'er late on Hallow-E'en, an' that ye will find." 
 
 " It elyed away o'er the brow, an' I saw nae mair o't. 
 " Lord sauf us 1" quo' I to mysel, " is this Hallow-E'en ? 
 I wish I war safe at name, or in amang Christian creatures 
 o' ony kind ! Or had I but my fine dog Reaver wi' me, 
 to let me ken when the fairies are corning near me Good- 
 ness to the day I I may be amang the mids o' them 
 
OF BODSBECK. 153 
 
 ere ever I ken what I'm doing." A' the stories that ever 
 I heard about fairies in my life came linkin into mymind 
 ane after anither, and I almaist thought I was already on 
 my road to the Fairy land, an' to be paid away to hell, 
 like a kane-cock, at the end o' seven years. I likit the 
 boding o' the apparition I had met wi' unco ill, but yet I 
 had some hopes that I was o'er muckle, an' o'er heavy 
 metal for the fairies. Hout, thinks I, what need I be sae 
 feared ? They'll never take away ane o' my size to be a 
 fairy Od, I wad be the daftest-like fairy ever was seen. 
 
 " I had naething for't but to stride on as fast as I could, 
 an' on I comes till I comes to the bit brae at the side o' 
 the Ox-Cleuch-Lea, an' there I heard something fistling 
 amang the brakens, an* making a kind o' wheenge, 
 wheenge, wheenging, that gart a' my heart loup to my 
 mouth ; an' what was this but my poor dog Reaver, com- 
 ing creeping on his wame, an' sae fain to meet me again 
 that he hardly kend what he was doing. I took him up 
 in my arms an' clappit him, an' said a' the kind things to 
 him that I could, an' O sic a wark an' fidgetting as he 
 made ! But yet I couldna help thinking there was a kind 
 o' doufness and melancholy in his looks. What ails ye, 
 Reaver man? quo' I. I wish a' may be weel about 
 Chapelhope the night ; but ye canna tell me that, poor 
 fallaw, or else ye wad. He sometimes lickit my stocking 
 wi' his tongue, an' sometimes my hand, but he wadna 
 gang away afore me as he used to do, cocking his tail sae 
 massy-like ; an' I feared sair that a' wasna right about 
 hame, an' can hardly tell ony body how I felt, fock's 
 ain are aye their ain ! 
 
 " At length I cam' amaist close to the bit brow o' the 
 Lang Bank that brought me in sight o' my ain house, but 
 when I lookit ower my shoulder Reaver was fled. I 
 grew fearder than ever, an' wistna what to think ; an' 
 wi' that I sees a queer-like shapen thing standing 
 straight on the road afore me. Now, thinks I, this 
 is the Brownie o' Bodsbeck ; I wadna face him for a' the 
 warld ; I maun try to gie him the slip. Sae I slides aff 
 the road, an' down a bit ho we into the side o' the loch, 
 
154 THE BROWNIE 
 
 thinking I wad get up within the brae out o' sight o' him 
 But aha! there was he standing straight afore me on 
 the shore. I clamb the brae again, and sae did he. Now, 
 thinks I, his plan is first to pit me out o' my reason, an' 
 then wear me into the loch and drown me ; I'll keep an 
 open side wi' him. Sae up the hill I scrambles wi' a' my 
 speed, an' doun again, and up again, five or six times ; 
 but still he keepit straight afore me. By this time I was 
 come by degrees very near him, an' waxed quite desper- 
 ate, an' desperation made me crouse. ' In the name o' 
 God,' cries I, * what are ye that winna let me by to my 
 ain house ?" 
 
 "Did you see a woman on your way?" said the crea- 
 ture in a deep solemn voice. 
 
 " Yes, I did," answered I. 
 
 "Did she tell you any thing?" said the apparition 
 again. 
 
 " No," said I. 
 
 " Then I must," said the creature. " You go no nearer 
 to your own house to-night." 
 
 "Say you sae?" said I; "but I'll gang to my ain 
 house the night, though sax like you stood atween me 
 an' it." 
 
 "I charge you," said the thing again, "that you 
 go not nearer to it. For your own sake, and the sakes 
 of those that are dearest to you, go back the gate you 
 came, and go not to that house." 
 
 " An' pray wha may you be that's sae peremptory ?" 
 said I. 
 
 " A stranger here, but a friend to you, Laidlaw. Here 
 you do not pass to-night." 
 
 I never could bide to be braved a' my life. " Say you 
 sae, friend?" quo' I; " then let me tell ye, stand out 
 o' my way ; or, be ye brownie or fairy be ye ghaist, or 
 be ye deil in the might o' Heaven, I sail gie ye 
 strength o' arm for aince ; an' here's a cudgel that never 
 fell in vain." 
 
 " So saying, I took my stick by the sma' end wi' baith 
 my hands, an' heaving it ower my shoulder I cam' straight 
 
OF BODSBECK. 155 
 
 on to the apparition, for I hardly kend what I was do- 
 ing ; an' my faith it had gotten a paik ! but it had mair 
 sense than to risk it ; for when it saw that I was de- 
 mentit, it e'en steppit quietly aff the road, and said, wi' 
 a deep grane, " Ye're a wilfu' man, Laidlaw, an' your 
 wilfu'ness may be your undoing. Pass on your ways, and 
 Heaven protect your senses." 
 
 " I dredd sair I was doing wrang, but there was some- 
 thing in my nature that wadna be contrair'd ; sae by I 
 went, an' lookit full at the thing as I past. It had 
 nouther face nor hands, nor head nor feet ; but there 
 was it standing like a lang corn sack. L d tak me, (as 
 Serjeant Macpherson said,) if I kend whether I was 
 gaun on my feet or the crown o' my head. 
 
 " The first window that I came to was my ain, the 
 ane o' that room where Maron and I slept. I rappit at 
 it wi' a rap that wont to be weel kend, but it was barred, 
 an' a' was darkness and vacancy within. I tried every 
 door and window alang the foreside o' the house, but a 
 wi' the same effect. I rappit an' ca'd at them a', an' 
 named every name that was in the house when I left it, 
 but there was nouther voice, nor light, nor sound. 
 ' Lord have a care o' me !' said I to mysel, * what's come 
 o' a' my fock ? Can Clavers hae been here in my 
 absence an' taen them a' away ? or has the Brownie o' 
 Bodsbeck eaten them up, stoop an' roop ? For a' that 
 I hae wearied to see them, here I find my house left 
 unto me desolate. This is a waesome welcome hame to 
 a father, an' a husband, an' a master ! O what will come 
 o' puir auld Wat now ? 
 
 " The Auld Room was a place I never thought o' 
 ganging to ; but no kenning what to mak o' mysel, round 
 the west end o' the house I gaes towards the door o' the 
 Auld Room. I soon saw through the seam atween the 
 shutters that there was a light in it, an' kenning weel 
 that there was a broken lozen, I edged back the shutter 
 naturally to see what was gaun on within May never a 
 father's e'e again see sic a sight as mine saw ! There 
 was my dear, my only daughter Katharine, sitting on the 
 
156 THE BROWNIE 
 
 bed wi' a dead corpse on her knee, and her hands round 
 its throat ; and there was the Brownie o' Bodsbeck, the 
 ill-faurd, runkled, withered thing, wi' its eildron form 
 and grey beard, standin at the bed side handing the pale 
 corpse by the hand. It had its tither hand liftit up, and 
 was mutter, muttering some horrid spell, while a crew o' 
 the same kind o' grizly bearded phantoms were standing 
 round them. I had nae doubt but there had been a 
 murder committit, and that a dissection was neist to take 
 place ; and I was sae shockit that I was just gaun to roar 
 out. I tried it twice, but I had tint my voice, and could 
 do naething but gape. 
 
 " I now fand there was a kind o' swarf coming o'er 
 me, for it came up, up, about my heart, an' up, up, o'er 
 my temples, till it darkened my een ; an' I fand that if 
 it met on the crown o' my head I was gane. Sae I 
 thought it good, as lang as that wee master bit was sound, 
 to make my escape, an' aff I ran, an' fell, an' fell, an' 
 rase an' ran again. As Riskinhope was the nearest 
 house, I fled for that, where I wakened Davie Tait out 
 o' his bed in an unco plight. When he saw that I was 
 a' bedaubit wi' mire o'er head an' ears, (for I had faun a 
 hunder times,) it was impossible to tell wha o' us was 
 maist frightit. 
 
 " Lord sauf us, goodman,'' quo' he, " are ye hangit ?" 
 
 " Am I hangit, ye blockhead !" says I ; "what do ye 
 mean ?" 
 
 " I m-m-mean," says Davie, "w-w-war ye ek-ek-ex- 
 ecute ?" 
 
 ' Dinna be feard for an auld acquaintance, Davie," 
 quo' I, " though he comes to you in this guise." 
 
 " Guise !" said Davie, staring, and gasping for breath 
 " Gui-gui-guise ! Then it se-e-e-eems ye are dead ?" 
 
 " Gin I were dead, ye fool," quoth I, "how could I 
 be here ? Give me your hand." 
 
 " Uh-uh-uh-uuuh !" cried Davie, as I wore him up to 
 the nook, and took haud o' his hand by force. " Uh, 
 goodman, ye are flesh and blude yet ! But O ye'rs 
 cauld an' ugsome !' r 
 
OF BODSBECK. 157 
 
 " Davie," quoth I, " bring me a drink, for I bae seen 
 something o'er-bye, an' I'm hardly just mysel." 
 
 Davie ran and brought me a hale bowie-fu' o' milk. " Tak 
 a gude waught, goodman," quo' he, "an' dinna be dis- 
 couraged. Ye maun lay your account to see and hear baith, 
 sic things as ye never saw or heard afore, gin ye be gaun 
 to bide here. Ye needna wonder that I thought ye war 
 dead, the dead are as rife here now as the living they 
 gang amang us, work amang us, an' speak to us ; an' 
 them that we ken to be half-rotten i' their graves, come 
 an' visit our fire-sides at the howe o' the night. There 
 hae been sad doings here sin ye gaed away, goodman !" 
 
 " Sad doings I fear, indeed, Davie !" says I. " Can 
 ye tell me what's become o' a' my family ?" 
 
 " Troth can I, goodman. Your family are a' weel. 
 Keatie's at hame her lievahlane, an' carrying on a' the 
 wark o' the farm as weel as there war a hunder wi' her. 
 Your twa sons an' auld Nanny bide here ; an' the honest 
 gudewife hersel she's away to Gilmanscleuch. But oh, 
 gudeman, there are sad things gaun on o'er-by yonder ; 
 an' mony a ane thinks it will hae a black an' a dreadfu' 
 end. Sit down an' thraw aff your dirty claes, an' tell 
 us what ye hae seen the night." 
 
 " Na, na, Davie ! unless I get some explanation, the 
 thing that I hae seen the night maun be lockit up in this 
 breast, an' be carried to the grave wi' it. But, Davie, 
 I'm unco ill ; the cauld sweat is brekking on me frae 
 head to foot. I'm feared I gang away athegither." 
 
 " Wow, gudeman, what can be done ?" quo' Davie. 
 " Think ye we sudna tak the beuk ?" 
 
 " I was sae faintish I couldna arguy wi' the fool, an' 
 ere ever I wist he has my bonnet whuppit aff, and is 
 booling at a sawm ; and when that was done, to the 
 prayin' he fa's, an' sic nonsense I never heard prayed a' 
 my life. I'll be a rogue gin he wasna speakin' to his 
 Maker as he had been his neighbour herd ; an' then he 
 was baith fleetching an' fighting wi' him. However, I 
 came something to mysel again, an' Davie he thought 
 proper to ascribe it a' to his bit ragabash prayer." 
 
158 THE BROWNIE 
 
 Walter spent a restless and a troubled morning till 
 daylight, and Davie said, that wearied as he was, he 
 believed he never closed his een, for he heard him fre- 
 quently turning in the bed, and moaning to himself ; 
 and he heard him once saying, with deep sighs as if 
 weeping, " O my poor Keatie Laidlaw ! what is to be- 
 come o' her ! My poor lost, misled lassie ! Wa'es my 
 heart for her ! I fear she is ruined for this world an' 
 for the aftercome, I dare hardly venture to think about 
 it ! O wae's me for my poor luckless bairn !" 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 NEXT morning Walter and his two sons, and old 
 Nanny, went all over to Chapelhope together, just as the 
 cows came to the lone ; and the farmer was sundry times 
 remarking by the way that " daylight had mony een 1" 
 The truth was, that the phantoms of superstition had in 
 a measure fled with the shadows of the night, which they 
 seldom fail to do. They, indeed, remain in the bosom, 
 hid, as it were, in embryo, ready to be embodied again 
 at the fall of the long shadow in the moon-light, or the 
 evening tale round the fading embers ; but Walter at this 
 time, perhaps, regarded the visions of last night as dreams 
 scarcely remembered, arid less believed, and things which 
 in the open day he would have been ashamed to have 
 acknowledged. 
 
 Katharine had begun a milking, but when she beheld 
 her father coming across the meadow, she left her leglen 
 and ran home. Perhaps it was to put his little parlour 
 in order, for no one of the family had set foot within 
 that house but herself for three weeks or perhaps she 
 did not choose that their meeting should be witnessed by 
 other eyes. In short, she had something of importance 
 to put to rights for home she ran with great haste ; and 
 Walter, putting his sons to some work to detain them, 
 
OF BODSBECK. 159 
 
 followed her all alone. He stepped into the parlour, but 
 no one being there, he sat down on his elbow chair, and 
 began to look about him. In a few seconds his daughter 
 entered flung herself on her father's knee and bosom 
 clasped her arms about his neck kissed him, and shed 
 a flood of tears on his breast. At first he felt somewhat 
 startled at her embrace, and his arms made a feeble and 
 involuntary effort to press her away from him ; but she 
 grew to him the closer, and welcomed him home with 
 such a burst of filial affection and tenderness, that nature 
 in a short time regained her empire over the father's 
 heart; and there was to be seen old Walter with his 
 large hands pressing her slender waist, keeping her at a 
 little distance from him on his knee, and looking sted- 
 fastly in her face, with the large tear rolling in his eye. 
 It was such a look as one sometimes takes of the corpse 
 of one that was dearly beloved in life. Well did she 
 read this look, for she had the eye of the eagle for dis- 
 cernment ; but she hid her face again on his shoulder, 
 and endeavoured, by familiar inquiries, to wean him in- 
 sensibly from his reserve, and draw him into his wonted 
 freedom of conversation with her. 
 
 " Ye ken o'er weel," said he at length, " how deep a 
 haud ye hae o' this heart, Keatie. Ye're my ain bairn 
 still, and ye hae done muckle for my life but" 
 
 " Muckle for your life !" said she, interrupting him 
 " I have been but too remiss. I have regretted every 
 hour that I was not with you attending you in prison, 
 administering to all my father's wants, and helping to 
 make the time of bondage and suspense pass over more 
 lightsomely ; but grievous circumstances have prevented 
 me. I have had sad doings here since you went away, 
 my dear father there is not a feeling that can rack the 
 human heart has not been my share. But I will con- 
 fess all my errors to my father, fall at his knees, and beg 
 his forgiveness ay, and I hope to receive it too." 
 
 " The sooner ye do sae the better then, Keatie," said 
 he " I was here last night, an' saw a sight that was 
 enough to turn a father's heart to stane." 
 
160 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " You were here last night!" said she emphatically, 
 while her eyes were fixed on the ground " You were 
 here last night ! Oh ! what shall become of me !" 
 
 " Ay, weel may ye say sae, poor lost and undone crea- 
 ture ! I was here last night, though worn back by some o' 
 your infernals, an' saw ye in the midso' your dreadfu'game, 
 wi' a' your bike o' hell round about ye. I watna what your 
 confession and explanation may do ; but without these I hae 
 sworn to myself, and I'll keep my aith, that you and I shall 
 never night thegither again in the same house, nor the same 
 part o' the country ay, though it should bring down my 
 grey hairs wi' sorrow to the grave, I'll keep that aith." 
 
 " I fear it will turn out a rash vow," said she, " and 
 one that we may all repent to the last day that we have 
 to live. There is danger and jeopardy in the business, 
 and it is connected with the lives and souls of men ; there- 
 fore, before we proceed farther in it, relate to me all the 
 circumstances of your trial, and by what means you are 
 liberated." 
 
 " I'll do that cheerfully," said Walter, "gin it war but 
 to teach you compliance." 
 
 He then went over all the circumstances of his extra- 
 ordinary trial, and the conditions on which he was dis- 
 charged ; and ended by requiring her positively to give 
 him the promised explanation. 
 
 "So you are only then out on bail," said she, "and 
 liable to be cited again on the same charges ?" 
 
 " No more," was the reply. 
 
 " It is not then time yet for my disclosure," said she ; 
 " and no power on earth shall wring it from me ; there- 
 fore, my dear father, let me beg of you to urge your 
 request no farther, that I may not be under the painful 
 necessity of refusing you again." 
 
 " I hae tauld ye my determination, Keatie," returned 
 he; "an' ye ken I'm no very apt to alter. If I should 
 bind ye in a cart wi' my ain hands, ye shall leave Chapel- 
 hope the night, unless ye can avert that by explaining 
 your connections to me. An' why should ye no? 
 Things can never appear vvaur to my mind than they are 
 
OF BODSBECK. 161 
 
 just now If hell itself had been opened to my e'e an 
 I had seen you ane o' the inmates, I coudna hae been 
 mair astoundit than I was yestreen. I'll send ye to Edin- 
 burgh, an' get ye safely put up there, for I canna brook 
 things ony langer in this state. I winna hae my family 
 scattered, an' made a byeword and an astonishment to 
 the hale country this gate Outher tell me the meaning 
 o't, or lay your account to leave your father's house this 
 day for ever." 
 
 " You do not know what you ask, father the thing 
 is impossible. Was ever a poor creature so hard bestead ! 
 Will not you allow me a few days to prepare for such a 
 departure ?" 
 
 " No ae day, nor ae hour either, Kate. Ye see this 
 is a situation o' things that canna be tholed ony langer." 
 
 She sat down as if in deep meditation, but she neither 
 sobbed nor wept. " You are only out on bail," said she, 
 " and liable to be tried again on the same grounds of 
 charge?" 
 
 " Ay, nae mair," said Walter ; " but what need ye 
 harp on that ? I'm safe enough. I forgot to tell you 
 that the judges were sae thoroughly convinced of my 
 loyalty and soundness, (as they ca'd it) that they wadna 
 risk me to the vote of a jury ; an' that the bit security 
 they sought was naething but a mere sham to get hon- 
 ourably quit of me. I was likewise tauld by ane that kens 
 unco weel, that the king has gotten ither tow to tease 
 than persecuting whigs ony langer, an' that there will 
 soon be an order put out of a very different nature. 
 There is never to be mair blood shed on account of the 
 covenanted reformation in Scotland." 
 
 When Walter began his speech, his daughter lifted up 
 her downcast eyes, and fixed them on his face with a look 
 that manifested a kind of hopeless apathy ; but as he ad- 
 vanced, their orbs enlarged, and beamed with a radiance 
 as if she had been some superior intelligence. She did 
 not breathe or, if she did, it stole imperceptibly from 
 between her parted ruby lips. " What did you say, my 
 dear father '?" said she. 
 
 o 2 
 
162 THE BROWNIE 
 
 " What did I say !" repeated Walter, astonished and 
 nettled at the question " What the deil was i' your lugs, 
 that ye didna hear what I said ? I'm sure I spake out. 
 Ye are thinking o' something else, Kate." 
 
 "Be so good as repeat every word that you said 
 over again," said she, "and tell me whence you drew 
 your intelligence." 
 
 Walter did so ; repeating it in still stronger and more 
 energetic language than he had done before, mentioning 
 at the same time how he had his information, which could 
 not be doubted. 
 
 " It is enough, my dear father," said she. " Say not 
 another word about it. I will lay open all my errors to 
 my father this instant come with me, and I will show 
 you a sight!" 
 
 As she said this, she put her arm in her father's to 
 lead him away ; but Walter looked about him with a 
 suspicious and startled eye, and drew somewhat back. 
 
 " You must go instantly," continued she, " there is no 
 time so fit ; and whatever you may see or hear, be not 
 alarmed, but follow me, and do as I bid you." 
 
 " Nane o' your cantrips wi' me, Kate," said Walter 
 "I see your drift weel eneugh, but ye'll find yoursel 
 disappointit. I hae lang expectit it wad come to this ; 
 but I'm determined against it." 
 
 " Determined against what, my dear father?" 
 
 " Ye want to mak a warlock o' me, ye imp o' mis- 
 chief," said Walter ; " but I hae taen up my resolution 
 there, an' a' the temptations o' Satan sanna shake it. 
 Nah ! Gudefaith, auld Wat o' the Chapelhope's no gaun 
 to be led away by the lug an' the horn to the deil that 
 gate." 
 
 Katharine's mien had a tint of majesty in it, but it was 
 naturally serious. She scarcely ever laughed, and but 
 seldom smiled ; but when she did so, the whole soul of 
 delight beamed in it. Her face was like a dark summer 
 day, when the clouds are high and majestic, and the lights 
 on the valley mellowed into beauty. Her smile was like 
 a fairy blink of the sun shed through these clouds, than 
 
OF BODSBECK. 163 
 
 which, there is nothing in nature that I know of so en- 
 livening and beautiful. It was irresistible ; and such a 
 smile beamed on her benign countenance, when she heard 
 her father's wild suspicions expressed in such a blunt and 
 ardent way ; but it conquered them all he went away 
 with her rather abashed, and without uttering another word. 
 
 They walked arm in arm up by the side of the burn, 
 and were soon out of sight of Nanny and the boys. 
 Walter was busy all the way trying to form some con- 
 jecture what the girl meant, and what was to be the issue 
 of this adventure, and began to suspect that his old friends, 
 the Covenant men, were some way or other connected 
 with it ; that it was they, perhaps, who had the power of 
 raising those spirits by which his dwelling had been so 
 grievously haunted, for he had heard wonderful things of 
 them. Still there was no co-indication of circumstances 
 in any of the calculations that he was able to make, 
 for his house had been haunted by Brownie and his 
 tribe long ere he fell in with the fugitive Covenanters. 
 None of them had ever given him the least hint about 
 the matter, or the smallest key to it, which he believed 
 they would have done ; nor had he ever mentioned a 
 word of his connection with them to one of his family, or 
 indeed to any one living. Few were the words that passed 
 between the father and daughter in the course of that 
 walk, but it was not of long duration. 
 
 They soon came to the precipitate linn on the South 
 Grain, where the soldiers had been slain. Katharine 
 being a little way before, began to scramble across the 
 face of the rock by a path that was hardly perceptible. 
 Walter called after her, " Where are ye gaun, Keatie? 
 It's impossible to win yont there there's no outgate for 
 a mouse." 
 
 "We will try," answered she; "it is perhaps not 
 so bad as it looks Follow me you have nothing to 
 fear." 
 
 Walter followed ; for however much he was affrighted 
 for brownies, and fairies, and dead corpses, and all these 
 awful kind of things, he was no coward among rocks and 
 
164 THE BROWNIE 
 
 precipices. They soon reached a little dass in the middle 
 of the linn, or what an Englishman would call a small land- 
 ing-place. Here she paused till her father reached her, 
 and pointed out to him the singularity of their situation, 
 with the burn roaring far below their feet, and the rock 
 fairly overhanging them above. 
 
 " Is it not a romantic and tremendous spot ?" said she. 
 "It is that !" said Walter, "an' I believe you and I 
 are the first that ever stood on it." 
 
 " Well, this is the end of our journey," said she ; and, 
 turning about, she began to pull at a bush of heath that 
 grew between two rocks. 
 
 " What can she be gaun to do wi' the heather ?" 
 thought Walter to himself, when instantly a door opened, 
 and showed a cavern that led into the hill. It was a 
 door wattled with green heath, with the tops turned out- 
 ward so exactly, that it was impossible for any one to 
 know but that it was a bush of natural heath growing in 
 the interstice. " Follow me, my dear father," said she, 
 " you have still nothing to fear ;" and so saying she entered 
 swiftly in a stooping posture. Walter followed, but his 
 huge size precluded the possibility of his walking other- 
 wise than on all fours, and in that mode he fairly essayed 
 to follow his mysterious child ; but the path winded his 
 daughter was quite gone and the door closed behind 
 him, for it was so constructed as to close of itself, and 
 as Walter expressed it, " There was he left, gaun boring 
 into the hill like a moudiwort, in utter darkness." The 
 consequence of all this was, that Walter's courage fairly 
 gave way, and by an awkward retrograde motion, he made 
 all the haste he was able back to the light. He stood 
 on the shelve of the rock at the door for several minutes 
 in confused consternation, saying to himself, " What in 
 the wide world is com'd o' the wench ? I believe she is 
 gane away down into the pit bodily, an' thought to wile 
 me after her ; or into the heart of the hill, to some en- 
 chantit cave, amang her brownies, an' fairies, an' hobgob- 
 lins. Gudeness have a care o' me, gin ever I saw the 
 like o' this !" Then losing all patience, he opened the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 165 
 
 door, set in his head, and bellowed out, " Hollo, lassie ! 
 What's com'd o' ye ? Keatie Laidlaw Hollo !" He 
 soon heard footsteps approaching, and took shelter behind 
 the door, with his back leaning to the rock, in case of 
 any sudden surprise, but it was only his daughter, who 
 chided him gently for his timidity and want of confidence 
 in her, and asked how he could be frightened to go where 
 a silly girl, his own child, led the way ? adding, that if 
 he desired the mystery that had so long involved her fate 
 and behaviour to be cleared up, he behoved to enter and 
 follow her, or to remain in the dark for ever. Thus ad- 
 monished, Walter again screwed his courage to the stick- 
 ing place, and entered in order to explore this mysterious 
 cave, following close to his daughter, who led him all the 
 way by the collar of the coat as he crept. The entrance 
 was long and irregular, and in one place very narrow, the 
 roof being supported here and there by logs of birch and 
 alder. They came at length into the body of the cave, 
 but it was so dimly lighted from above, the vent being 
 purposely made among rough heath, which in part over- 
 hung and hid it from view without, that Walter was al- 
 most in the middle of it ere ever he was aware, and still 
 creeping on his hands and knees. His daughter at last 
 stopped short, on which he lifted his eyes, and saw indis- 
 tinctly the boundaries of the cave, and a number of figures 
 standing all around ready to receive him. The light, as 
 I said, entered straight from above, and striking on the 
 caps, and bonnets which they wore on their heads, these 
 shaded their faces, and they appeared to our amazed good- 
 man so many blackamoors, with long shaggy beards and 
 locks, and their garments as it were falling from their 
 bodies piece-meal. On the one side, right over against 
 him, stood a coffin, raised a little on two stones ; and on 
 the other side, on a couch of rushes, lay two bodies that 
 seemed already dead, or just in the last stage of existence ; 
 and, at the upper end, on a kind of wicker chair, sat an- 
 other pale emaciated figure, with his feet and legs wrapt 
 up in flannel, a napkin about his head, and his body 
 wrapped in an old duffel cloak that had once belonged 
 
166 THE BROWNIE 
 
 to Walter himself. Walter's vitals were almost frozen 
 up by the sight, he uttered a hollow exclamation, some- 
 thing like the beginning of a prayer, and attempted again 
 to make his escape, but he mistook the entrance, and 
 groped against the dark corner of the cavern. His 
 daughter pulled him by the arm, entreating him to stay, 
 and addressing the inmates of that horrid den, she desired 
 them to speak to her father, and explain the circumstances 
 of their case, for he was still bewildered, and the scene 
 was too much for him to bear. 
 
 " That we will do joyfully," said one, in a strong in- 
 telligent voice. 
 
 Walter turned his eyes on the speaker, and who was 
 it but the redoubted Brownie of Bodsbeck, so often men- 
 tioned before, in all his native deformity ; while the thing 
 in the form of a broad bonnet that he wore on his head, 
 kept his features, grey locks and beard, wholly in the 
 shade ; and, as he approached Walter, he appeared a be- 
 ing without any definitive form or feature. The latter 
 was now standing on his feet, with his back leaning against 
 the rock that formed the one side of the cave, and breathing 
 so loud, that every whiff sounded in the caverned arches 
 like the rush of the winter wind whistling through the 
 crevices of the casement. 
 
 Brownie approached him, followed by others. 
 
 " Be not alarmed, goodman," said the creature, in the 
 same solemn and powerful voice ; " you see none here but 
 fellow-creatures and Christians none who will not be happy 
 to bestow on you their blessing, and welcome you as afather." 
 
 He stretched forth his hand to take hold of our good- 
 man's. It was bent to his side as by a spasm, and at the 
 same time a volley of breath came forth from his capacious 
 chest with such a rush, that it was actually like the snort 
 of a horse that is frightened in the dark. The Brownie, 
 however, laid hold of it, stiff as it was, and gave it a 
 squeeze and a hearty shake. " You are welcome, sir !" 
 continued the shapeless mass, "to our dismal habitation. 
 May the God of heaven particularly bless you in your 
 family, and in all your other concerns !" 
 
OF BODSBECK. 167 
 
 The naming of this name dispelled Walter's wild appre- 
 hensions like a charm, for though he was no devotee, 
 yet his mind had a strong bias to the superstitions of the 
 country in which he was bred ; therefore this benediction, 
 pronounced in such a tone of ardour and sublimity of 
 feeling, had a powerful effect on his mind. But the cir- 
 cumstance that proved the most effective of all, was per- 
 haps the sensible assurance gained by the shaking of hands, 
 that Brownie was really and truly a corporeal being. 
 Walter now held out his hand to all the rest as they came 
 forward one by one, and shook hands heartily with them 
 all, while every one of them blessed him in the name of 
 their Maker or Redeemer. Walter was still involved in 
 mystery, and all this while he had never uttered a word 
 that any man could make meaning of ; and after they had 
 all shook hands with him, he looked at the coffin ; then 
 at the figures on the couch ; then at the pale wretch on 
 the wicker-seat, and then at the coffin again. 
 
 " Let us fully understand one another,'' said Kathar- 
 ine. " Pray, Brown, be so good as detail the circum- 
 stances of this party as shortly as you can to my father, 
 for, as is natural, he is still perplexed and bewildered.'* 
 
 " You see here, before you, sir," said the little hunch- 
 backed figure, " a wretched remnant of that long perse- 
 cuted, and now nearly annihilated sect, the covenanted 
 reformers of the west of Scotland. We were expelled 
 from our homes, and at last hunted from our native moun- 
 tains like wolves, for none of our friends durst shelter 
 any of us on their grounds, on pain of death. Even the 
 rest of the persecuted disowned us* and became our' 
 adversaries, because our tenets were more stern and se- 
 vere than theirs ; for we acted on the principle of retali- 
 ation as far as it lay in our power, holding that to be in 
 consistency with the laws of God and man ; therefore 
 were we expelled from their society, which indeed we 
 disdained. 
 
 " We first came to Bodsbeck, where we got shelter for 
 a few weeks. It was there that I was first supposed by 
 the menials, who chanced to see me, to be a Brownie, 
 
168 THE BROWNIE 
 
 and that superstitious idea the tenant thought meet to im- 
 prove for our safety, but on the approach of Lag's people 
 he dismissed us. We then fled to Leithenhall, from 
 whence in a few days we were again compelled to fly ; 
 and at last came to this wild, the only place in the south 
 that soldiers had never searched, or could search with 
 any degree of success. After much labour we completed 
 this cave, throwing the stuff ;into the torrent below, so 
 that the most minute investigator could not distinguish 
 the smallest difference in the linn, or face of the precipice ; 
 and here we deemed we might live for years without be- 
 ing discovered ; and here we determined to live, till God 
 should see fit, in his own good time, to send some relief 
 to his persecuted church in these lands. 
 
 " But alas, the worst evil of all awaited us ! We sub- 
 sisted for a considerable time by bringing victuals over 
 night from a great distance, but even the means of ob- 
 taining these failed us ; so that famine, and the dampness 
 of the air here, we being compelled to lie inactive in the 
 bowels of the earth for days and nights together, brought 
 on us a malignant and pestilential fever. In three days 
 from its first appearing, one half of our number were lying 
 unable to move, or lift an eye. What could we do? 
 The remnant could not fly, and leave their sick and woun- 
 ded brethren to perish here unseen. We were unable 
 to carry them away with us, and if we had, we had no 
 place to which we could have conveyed them. We durst 
 not apply to you, for if you had taken pity on us, we 
 knew it would cost you your life, and be the means of 
 bereaving your family of all your well-earned wealth. In 
 this great extremity, as a last resource, I watched an 
 opportunity, and laid our deplorable case before that dear 
 maid, your daughter Forgive these tears, sir ; you see 
 every eye around fills at mention of her name She has 
 been our guardian angel She has, under Almighty 
 Providence, saved the lives of the whole party before you 
 has supplied us with food, cordials, and medicines : with 
 beds, and with clothing, all from her own circumscribed 
 resources. For us she has braved every danger, and suf- 
 
OF BODSBECK. 169 
 
 fered every privation ; the dereliction of her parents, and 
 the obloquy of the whole country. That young man, 
 whom you see sitting on the wicker chair there, is my 
 only surviving son of five he was past hope when she 
 found him fast posting to the last goal her unwearied 
 care and attentions have restored him ; he is again in a 
 state of convalescence O may the Eternal God reward 
 her for what she has done to him and us ! 
 
 " Only one out of all the distressed and hopeless party 
 has perished, he whose body lies in that coffin. He was 
 a brave, noble, and pious youth, and the son of a worthy 
 gentleman. When our dear nurse and physician found 
 your house deserted by all but herself, she took him home 
 to a bed in that house, where she attended him for the 
 last seven days of his life with more than filial care. He 
 expired last night at midnight, amid our prayers and sup- 
 plications to heaven in his behalf, while that dear saint 
 supported his head in his dying moments, and shed the 
 tear of affliction over his lifeless form. She made the 
 grave-clothes from her own scanty stock of linen tied her 
 best lawn napkin round the head ; and " 
 
 Here Walter could contain himself no longer ; he burst 
 out a crying, and sobbed like a child. 
 
 " An' has my Keatie done a' this?" he said, in aloud 
 broken voice " Has my woman done a' this, an' yet me 
 to suspect her, an' be harsh till her ? I might hae kend 
 her better !" continued he, taking her in his arms, and 
 kissing her cheek again and again. " But she shall hae 
 ten silk gowns, an' ten satin anes, for the bit linen she 
 has bestowed on sic an occasion, an' a' that she has wared 
 on ye I'll make up to her a hunder an' fifty fauld." 
 
 " O my dear father," said she, "you know not what 
 I have suffered for fear of having offended you ; for I 
 could not forget that their principles, both civil and reli- 
 gious, were the opposite of yours that they were on the 
 adverse side to you and my mother, as well as the govern- 
 ment of the country." 
 
 " Deil care what side they war on, Kate !" cried Wal- 
 ter, in the same vehement voice ; "ye hae taen the side 
 
 i. p 
 
170 THE BROWNIE 
 
 o' human nature ; the suffering and the humble side, an' 
 the side o' feeling, my woman, that bodes best in a yomig 
 unexperienced thing to tak. It is better than to do like 
 yon bits o' gillflirts about Edinburgh ; poor shilly-shally 
 milk-an'-water things ! Gin ye but saw how they cock up 
 their noses at a whig, an' thraw their bits o' gabs ; an' 
 downa bide to look at aught, or hear tell o' aught, that 
 isna i' the tap fashion. Ye hae done very right, my good 
 lassie od, I wadna gie ye for the hale o' them, an they 
 war a' hung in a strap like ingaris." 
 
 " Then, father, since you approve, I am happy. I have 
 no care now save for these two poor men on that couch, 
 who are yet far from being out of danger." 
 
 " Gudeness guide us !" said Walter, turning about, " I 
 thought they had been twa dead corpse. But now, when 
 my een are used to the light o' the place, I see the chaps 
 are living, an' no that unlife-like, as a body may say." 
 
 He went up to them, spoke to them kindly, took their 
 wan bleached sinewy hands in his, and said, he feared they 
 were still very ill? 
 
 " Better than we have been," was the reply " Better 
 than we have been, goodman. Thanks to you and 
 yours." 
 
 " Dear father," said Katharine, " I think if they were 
 removed down to Chapelhope, to dry comfortable lodgings, 
 and had more regular diet, and better attendance, their 
 health might soon be re-established. Now that you deem 
 the danger over, will you suffer me to have them carried 
 down there?" 
 
 " Will I no, Kate ? My faith, they shall hae the twa 
 best beds i' the house, if Maron an' me should sleep in. 
 the barn ! An' ye sal hae naething ado but to attend 
 them, an' nurse them late an' aire ; an' I'll gar Maron 
 Linton attend them too, an' she'll rhame o'er bladds o* 
 scripture to them, an' they'll soon get aboon this bit dwaum. 
 Od, if outher gude fare or drogs will do it, I'll hae them 
 playin' at the permystane wi' Davie Tait, an' prayin' wi' 
 him at night, in less than twa weeks." 
 
 " Goodman," said old Brown, (for this celebrated 
 
OF BODSBECK. 171 
 
 Brownie was no other than the noted Mr John Brown, 
 the goodman of Caldwell) " Goodman, well may you be 
 proud this day, and well may you be uplifted in heart on 
 account of your daughter. The more I see and hear of 
 her, the more am I struck with admiration ; and I am per- 
 suaded of this, that, let your past life have been as it may, 
 the Almighty will bless and prosper you on account of 
 that maid. The sedateness of her counsels, and the qual- 
 ities of her heart, have utterly astonished me She has 
 all the strength of mind, and energy of the bravest of men, 
 blent with all the softness, delicacy, and tenderness of 
 feminity Neither danger nor distress can overpower her 
 mind for a moment tenderness does it at once. If ever 
 an angel appeared on earth in the form of woman, it is in 
 that of your daughter." 
 
 " I wish ye wad haud your tongue," said Walter, who 
 stood hanging his head, and sobbing aloud. The large 
 tears were not now dropping from his eyes they were 
 trickling in torrents. " I wish ye wad haud your tongue, 
 an' no mak me ower proud o' her. She's weel eneugh, 
 
 puir woman It's a It's a shame for a great muckle 
 
 auld fool like me to be booin an' greetin like a bairn this 
 gate ! but deil tak the doer gin I can help it ! I watna 
 what's ta'en me the day ! She's weel eneugh, puir lassie. 
 I daresay I never learned her ony ill, but I little wat 
 where she has gotten a' the gude qualities ye brag sae 
 muckle o', unless it hae been frae Heaven in gude earnest ; 
 for I wat weel, she has been brought up but in a ram- 
 stamphish hamely kind o' way wi' Maron an' me. But 
 come, come ! let us be done wi' this fuffing an' blawing 
 o' noses, an' making o' wry faces. Row the twa puir sick 
 lads weel up, an' bring them down in the bed-claes to 
 my house. An' d'ye hear, callants gudesake get your 
 beards clippit or shaven a wee, an' be something warld- 
 like, an' come a' down to Chapelhope ; I'll kill the best 
 wedder on the Hermon-Law, an' we shall a' dine heartily 
 thegither for aince ; I'll get ower Davie Tait to say the 
 grace, an' we'll be as merry as the times will allow." 
 
 They accepted the invitation, with many expressions 
 
172 THE BROWNIE 
 
 of gratitude and thankfulness, and the rays of hope once 
 more enlightened the dejected countenances that had so 
 long been overshadowed with the gloom of despair. 
 
 " But there's ae thing, callants," said Walter, " that 
 has astonished me, an' I canna help speering. Where 
 got ye the coffin sae readily for the man that died last 
 night ?" 
 
 " That coffin," said Brown, " was brought here one 
 night by the friends of one of the men whom Clavers 
 caused to be shot on the other side of the ridge there, 
 which you saw. The bodies were buried ere they came ; 
 it grew day on them, and they left it ; so, for the sake 
 of concealment, we brought it into our cave. It has been 
 useful to us ; for when the wretched tinker fell down 
 among us from that gap, while we were at evening wor- 
 ship, we pinioned him in the dark, and carried him in 
 that chest to your door, thinking he had belonged to your 
 family. That led to a bloody business, of which you 
 shall hear anon. And in that coffin, too, we carried off 
 your ungrateful curate so far on his journey, disgraced 
 for ever, to come no more within twenty miles of Chapel- 
 hope, on pain of a dreadful death in twenty-four hours 
 thereafter ; and I stand warrandice that he shall keep his 
 distance. In it we have now deposited the body of a be- 
 loved and virtuous friend, who always foretold this, from 
 its first arrival in our cell. But he rejoiced in the pros- 
 pect of his dissolution, and died as he had lived, a faithful 
 and true witness ; and his memory shall long be revered 
 by all the just and the good." 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 I HATE long explanations, therefore this chapter shall 
 be very short; there are, however, some parts of the 
 
OF BODSBECK. 173 
 
 foregoing tale, which require that a few words should be 
 subjoined in elucidation of them. 
 
 This John Brown was a strenuous and desperate re- 
 former. He was the son of a gentleman by a second 
 marriage, and half-brother to the Laird of Caldwell. He 
 was at the battle of Pentland, with five brave sons at his 
 back, two of whom were slain in the action, and he him- 
 self wounded. He was again at Bothwell Bridge with the 
 remaining three, where he was a principal mover of the 
 unhappy commotions in the army that day, owing to his 
 violent irreclaimable principles of retaliation. A little 
 before the rout became general, he was wounded by a 
 musket bullet, which grazed across his back, and deprived 
 him of all power. A dragoon coming up, and seeing 
 him alive, struck him again across the back with his 
 sword, which severed the tendons, and cut him to the 
 bone. His sons had seen him Ml, and, knowing the spot 
 precisely, they returned overnight, and finding him still 
 live, they conveyed him to a place of safety, and after- 
 wards to Glasgow, where he remained concealed in a 
 garret in a friend's house for some months ; and, after great 
 sufferings in body and mind, recovered of his wounds ; 
 but, for want of surgical assistance, he was so crooked and 
 bowed down, that his nearest friends could not know 
 him ; for in his youth, though short in stature, he was 
 strong and athletic. At length he reached his own home, 
 but found it ransacked and desolate, and learned that his 
 wife was carried to prison, he knew not whither. His 
 powerful eloquence, and wild Cameroriian principles, 
 made him much dreaded by the other party ; a high re- 
 ward was offered for apprehending him, so that he was 
 driven to great straits, yet never failed to wreak his ven- 
 geance on all of the persecuting party that fell within his 
 power, and he had still a number of adherents. 
 
 At length there was one shot in the fields near Kirk- 
 connel that was taken for him, and the promised reward 
 actually paid ; on which the particular search after him 
 subsided. His two youngest sons both died for the same 
 cause with the former, but James, his third son, always 
 p 2 
 
174 THE BROWNIE 
 
 kept by his father, until taken prisoner by Clavers as he 
 was fishing one day in Coulter Water. Clavers ordered 
 him to be instantly shot, but the Laird of Coulteralloes 
 being present, interceded for him, and he was detained a 
 prisoner, carried about from place to place, and at length 
 confined in the jail at Selkirk. By the assistance of his 
 father and friends he effected his escape, but not before 
 being grievously wounded ; and, by reason of the hurts 
 he received, and the fever that attacked them in the cave, 
 when Katharine was first introduced there, he was lying 
 past hope ; but, by her unwearied care and attention, he, 
 with others, was so far recovered as to be able to sit up, and 
 walk about a little. He was poor Nanny's own son ; and this 
 John Brown was her husband, whom she had long deemed 
 in another and a happier state No wonder that she was 
 shocked and affrighted when she saw him again in such a 
 form at midnight, and heard him speak in his own natural 
 and peculiar voice. Their meeting that day at Chapel- 
 hope must be left to the imagination ; it is impossible for 
 any pen to do it justice. 
 
 It is only necessary to add, that Walter seems to have 
 been as much respected and beloved by his acquaintances 
 and domestics, at least as any neighbour or master of the 
 present day, as will appear from the few following remarks. 
 The old session-clerk and precentor at Ettrick said, " It 
 was the luckiest thing that could have happened that he 
 had come home again, for the poor's ladle had been found 
 to be a pund Scots short every Sunday since he and his 
 family had left the church." And Sandy Cunningham, 
 the conforming clergyman there, a very honest inoffen- 
 sive man, remarked, " that he was very glad to hear the 
 news, for the goodman always gave the best dinners at 
 the visitations and examinations of any farmer in his par- 
 ish ; and one always felt so comfortable in his house." 
 Davie Tait said, that " Divine Providence had just been 
 like a stell dike to the goodman. It had bieldit him frae 
 the bitter storm o' the adversary's wrath, an' keepit a' the 
 thunder-bolts o' the wicked frae brekking on his head ; 
 that, for his part, he wad sit down on his knees an' thank 
 
OF BODSBECK. 175 
 
 Heaven, Sunday and Saturday, for his return, for he 
 could easily lend his master as muckle siller as wad 
 stock a' Riskinhope ower again, an' there was little 
 doubt but he wad do it." Even old John of the 
 Muchrah remarked, "that it was just as weel that his 
 master was come back, for he had an -unco gude e'e amang 
 the sheep when ought was gaun wrang on the hill, an' 
 the ewes wadna win nae mair into the hogg fence o' the 
 Quave Brae, i' the day time at ony rate." 
 
 If there are any incidents in this Tale that may still 
 appear a little mysterious, they will all be rendered obvious 
 by turning to a pamphlet, entitled, A CAMERONIAN'S TALE, 
 or The Life of John Broivn, written by himself. But any 
 reader of common ingenuity may very easily solve them 
 all. 
 
 END OF THE BROWNIE OF BODSBECK. 
 
THE 
 
 WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 LOVE is a passion so capricious, so violent, and so pro- 
 ductive of whimsical expedients, that there is no end of 
 its varieties. Dramas may be founded, plots arranged, 
 and novels written on the subject, yet the simple truth 
 itself generally outlasts them all. The following story, 
 which relates to an amiable family still existing, is so like 
 a romance, that perhaps the word of a narrator is in- 
 sufficient to stamp it with that veracity to which it is 
 entitled. The principal incidents, however, are set down 
 precisely as they were related to me ; only I have deemed 
 it meet to change the designations of the individuals, so 
 far that they cannot be recognised by any one not pre- 
 viously acquainted with the circumstances. 
 
 The late Laird of Earlhall dying in the fiftieth year of 
 his age, as his grave-stone intimates, left behind him a 
 widow, and two sons both in their minority. The eldest 
 was of a dashing impatient character he had a kind and 
 affectionate heart, but his actions were not always tem- 
 pered with prudence. He entered at an early age into 
 the army, and fell in the Peninsular war when scarcely 
 twenty-two years of age. The estate thus devolved 
 wholly on the youngest, whose name for the present shall 
 be Lindsey, that being his second Christian name, and 
 the one by which his mother generally called him. He 
 had been intended for the law, but on his brother's death 
 gave up the study, as too laborious for his easy and care- 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 177 
 
 less disposition. He was attached to literature ; and 
 after his return home his principal employment consisted 
 in poring over his books, and managing a little flower- 
 garden in which he took great delight. He was studious, 
 absent, and sensible, but paid little attention to his estate, 
 or the extensive farm which he himself occupied. 
 
 The old lady, who was a stirring, talkative, industrious 
 dame, entertained him constantly with long lectures on 
 the ill effects of idleness. She called it the blight of 
 youth, the grub of virtue, and the mildew of happiness ; 
 and sometimes, when roused into energy, she said it was 
 the devil's langsettle on which he plotted all his devices 
 against human weal. Lindsey bore all with great patience, 
 but still continued his easy and indolent way. 
 
 The summer advanced the weather became peculiarly 
 fine labourers were busy in every field, and the shep- 
 herd's voice, and the bleating of his flocks, sounded from 
 the adjacent mountains by break of day. This lively 
 and rousing scene gave a new edge to the old lady's re- 
 monstrances ; they came upon poor Lindsey thicker and 
 faster, like the continued dropping of a rainy day, until 
 he was obliged in some degree to yield. He tried to 
 reason the matter with her, in somewhat near to the 
 following words ; but there, lawyer as he was, he had no 
 chance. He was fairly overcome. 
 
 " My dear mother," said he, " what does all this sig- 
 nify? Or what is it that I can effect by my superin- 
 tendance ? Our farmers are all doing well, and pay their 
 rents regularly : and as for our farm-servants, they have 
 each of them filled the same situation so long and so 
 creditably, that I feel quite awkward when standing look- 
 ing over them, it looks as if I suspected their integrity, 
 which has been so often proved. Besides, it is a leading 
 maxim with me, that if a man, and more particularly a 
 woman, know or believe that trust is reposed in them, 
 they will, in ten out of eleven instances, deserve it ; but 
 if once they see that they are suspected, the feeling to- 
 wards you is changed, and they will in a little time as 
 .likely deserve the one as the other. Our wealth is an- 
 
178 THE WOOL-GATHERER, 
 
 nually increasing, at least as fast as necessary, and it is 
 my principal wish, that every one under us may be as 
 easy and comfortable as possible." 
 
 This was true, for the old lady being parsimonious in 
 the extreme, their riches had increased rapidly since the 
 death of the late laird. As for Lindsey, he never spent 
 anything, save some trifle that he laid out yearly in pay- 
 ment of Reviews, and new books, and in relieving some 
 poor families in the neighbourhood. The article of dress 
 he left entirely to his mother : whatever she bought or 
 made for him he approved of, and whatever clothes or 
 linen she laid down in his chamber, he put on without 
 any observations. He acted upon the same principle with 
 regard to his meals, but he sometimes was obliged to in- 
 sist on a little addition being made to the comforts of the 
 family servants, all of whom loved him as a friend and 
 benefactor. He could at any time have swayed his mother 
 so far as to make her a little more liberal towards the 
 men-servants, but with regard to the maids he had no 
 such power. She and they lived at constant variance, 
 an irreconcileable jealousy seemed always to subsist 
 between them, and woe to them if the young laird in- 
 terested himself in their favour ! Matters being in this 
 state, he was obliged to witness this mutual animosity ; 
 this tyranny on the one hand, and discontent on the other, 
 without having the power to amend it. 
 
 " But then, my dear Lindsey," returned she to his 
 former remonstrance, " making allowance for a' that you 
 say allowing that your weel-spoken arguments are a' 
 foundit in truth, for laith wad you be to say an untruth, 
 an' I never heard an argument that wasna sound come 
 out o' your mouth, but then I say, what's to hinder 
 you to gang a fishing like other gentlemen, or shooting 
 moor-cocks, an' paetricks, an' black-cocks, as a' ither 
 country men o' your age an' station do ? Some manly 
 exercise in the field is absolutely necessary to keep your 
 form robust, your colour fresh, and your mind active ; 
 an', indeed, you maunna be discontentit, nor displeased, 
 if I insist on it, while the weather is so fine." 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 179 
 
 " With regard to fowling, my dear mother, I am perfectly 
 ignorant; I know nothing about the sport, and I never 
 can delight in it, for often has it given me pain to see 
 others pursuing it. I think the pleasure arising from it 
 can scarcely originate in any thing else than a principle 
 of cruelty. Fishing is little better. I never regret the 
 killing of an ox, or sheep, by which we have so much 
 necessary food for one life, but I think it hard to take a 
 precious life for a single mouthful." 
 
 " His presence be about us! Lindsey ! what's that ye 
 say ? Wha heard ever tell of a trout's precious life ? Or 
 a salmon's precious life? Or a ged's precious life? Wow. 
 man, but sma' things are precious i' your een ! Or wha 
 can feel for a trout ? A cauldrife creature that has nae 
 feeling itsel ; a greedy grampus of a thing, that worries 
 its ain kind, an' eats them whenever it can get a chance. 
 Na, na, Lindsey, let me hear nae mair o' sickan lang- 
 nebbit fine-spun arguments ; but do take your father's 
 rod, like a man, and a gentleman, and gang a-fishing, if 
 it were but an hour in the day ; there are as many hooks 
 and lines in the house as will serve you for seven years 
 to come ; an' it is weel kend how plenty the trouts are 
 in your ain water. I hae seen the day when we never 
 wanted plenty o' them at this time o' the year." 
 
 " Well, well," said Lindsey, taking up a book, " I shall 
 go to please you, but I would rather be at home." 
 
 She rung the bell, and ordered in old John the barn- 
 man, one well skilled in the art of angling. " John,'' 
 said she, " put your master's fishing-rod and tackle in 
 order, he is going a-fishing at noon." 
 
 John shrugged up his shoulders when he heard of his 
 master's intent, as much as to say, "sic a fisher as he'll 
 mak !" however, he went away in silence, and the order 
 was quickly obeyed. 
 
 Thus equipt, away trudged Lindsey to the fishing for 
 the first time in his life ; slowly and indifferently he went, 
 and began at the first pool he came to. John offered to 
 accompany him, to which he assented, but this the old 
 lady resisted, and bid him go to his work ; he, however, 
 
180 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 watched his master's motions slyly for some time, and on 
 joining his fellow labourers remarked, that "his master 
 was a real saft hand at the fishing." 
 
 An experienced angler certainly would have been 
 highly amused at his procedure. He pulled out the line, 
 and threw it in again so fast, that he appeared more like 
 one threshing corn than angling; he, moreover, fixed 
 always upon the smoothest parts of the stream, where no 
 trout in his right senses could possibly be inveigled. 
 But the far greater part of his employment consisted in 
 loosening the hook from different objects with which it 
 chanced to come in contact. At one time he was to be 
 seen stooping to the arm-pits in the middle of the water, 
 disengaging it from some officious twig that had inter- 
 cepted its progress ; at another time on the top of a tree 
 tearing off a branch on which it had laid hold. A 
 countryman happening to pass by just as he stood stripped 
 to the shirt cutting it out of his clothes, in which it had 
 fastened behind, observed, by way of friendly remark, 
 that " they were fashous things them hooks.' Lindsey 
 answered, that " they certainly had a singular knack of 
 catching hold of things." 
 
 He went through all this without being in the least 
 disconcerted, or showing any impatience ; and towards 
 dinner-time, the trouts being abundant, and John having 
 put on a fly that answered the weather, he caught some 
 excellent fish, and might have caught many more had he 
 been diligent ; but every trout that he brought ashore 
 took him a long time to contemplate. He surveyed his 
 eye, his mouth, and the structure of his gills with tedious 
 curiosity ; then again laid him down, and fixed his eyes 
 on him in deep and serious meditation. 
 
 The next day he needed somewhat less persuasion 
 from his mother to try the same amusement ; still it was 
 solely to please her that he went, for about the sport it- 
 self he was quite careless. Away he set the second day, 
 and prudently determined to go farther up the water, as 
 he supposed that part to be completely emptied of fish 
 where he had been the day before. He sauntered on 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 181 
 
 in his usual thoughtful and indifferent mood, sometimes 
 throwing in his line without any manner of success. At 
 length, on going over an abrupt ridge, he came to a clear 
 pool where the farmers had lately been washing their 
 flocks, and by the side of it a most interesting female, 
 apparently not exceeding seventeen years of age, gather- 
 ing the small flakes of wool in her apron that had fallen 
 from the sheep in washing ; while, at the same time, a 
 beautiful well-dressed child, about two years old, was 
 playing on the grass. Lindsey was close beside her be- 
 fore any of them were aware, and it is hard to say which 
 of the two were most surprised. She blushed like scar- 
 let, but pretended to gather on, as if wishing he would 
 pass without taking any notice of them ; but Lindsey 
 was rivetted to the spot ; he had never in his life seen 
 any woman half so beautiful, and at the same time her 
 array accorded with the business in which she was en- 
 gaged. Her form was the finest symmetry ; her dark 
 hair was tucked up behind with a comb, and hung waving 
 in ringlets over her cheeks and brow, "like shadows on 
 the mountain snow ;" and there was an elegance in the 
 model of her features, arms, and hands, that the youth 
 believed he had never before seen equalled in any lady, 
 far less a country girl. 
 
 " What are you going to do with that wretched stuff, 
 lassie," said Lindsey ; "it has been trampled among the 
 clay and sand, and is unfit for any human use." 
 
 " It will easily clean again, sir," said she, in a frank 
 and cheerful voice, " and then it will be as good as ever." 
 
 " It looks very ill ; I am positive it is for no manner 
 of use." 
 
 "It is certainly, as you say, not of great value, sir ; 
 but, if it is of any, I may as well lift it as let it lie and rot 
 here." 
 
 ' Certainly, there can be no harm in it ; only I am 
 sorry to see such a girl at such an employment." 
 
 " It is better doing this than nothing," was the reply. 
 
 The child now rolled himself over to get his face turned 
 towards them ; and, fixing his large blue eyes on Lindsey, 
 
182 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 looked at him with the utmost seriousness. The latter 
 observing a striking likeness between the girl and the child, 
 had no doubt that she was his sister ; and, unwilling to drop 
 the conversation, he added, abruptly enough, " Has your 
 mother sent you to gather that stuff ?" 
 
 " I have neither father nor mother, sir." 
 
 " But one who supplies both their places, I hope. You 
 have a husband, have not you?" 
 
 " Not as yet, sir ; but there is no time lost." 
 
 She blushed ; but Lindsey coloured ten times deeper 
 when he cast his eyes on the child. His heart died with- 
 in him at the thoughts that now obtruded themselves ; it 
 was likewise wrung for his imprudence and indelicacy. 
 What was his business whether she was married or not, 
 or now she was connected with the child ? She seemed 
 likewise to be put into some confusion at the turn the 
 conversation was taking ; and, anxious to bring it to a 
 conclusion as soon as possible, she tucked up the wool in 
 her apron below one arm, and was lifting up the child with 
 the other to go away, when Lindsey stepped forward, 
 saying, " Will not you shake hands with me, my good 
 little fellow, before you go?" 
 
 " Ay," said the child, stretching out his little chubby 
 hand ; " how d'ye doo, sil?'' 
 
 Lindsey smiled, shook his hand heartily, and put a 
 crown piece into it. 
 
 " Ah, sir, don't give him that," said she, blushing 
 deeply. 
 
 "It is only a play-thing that he must keep for my 
 sake." 
 
 " Thank you sil," said the child. " Great muckle 
 shilling, mamma." 
 
 This last appellation, mamma, struck Lindsey motion- 
 less ; he had not another word to say ; while the two 
 went away prattling to one another. 
 
 " Vely lalge fine-looking shilling, mamma." 
 
 " Ay, it is a very bonny shilling, dear," said she. kiss- 
 ing him, and casting a parting look at the petrified 
 fisher. 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 183 
 
 " Mamma, mamma !" repeated Lindsey to himself an 
 hundred times, trying it with every modulation of his voice. 
 ' This is the most extraordinary circumstance I ever 
 witnessed. Now, who in the world can comprehend that 
 thing called woman ? Who would not have sworn that 
 that rural beauty there was the most pure, innocent, and 
 untainted of her sex ? And yet, behold ! she has a fine 
 boy running at her side, and calling her mamma I Poor 
 girl, is she not to be pitied ? When one thinks how some 
 tender parent might rejoice over her, anticipating so much 
 better things of her ! It is plain she 'has been very indif- 
 ferently used by the world most cruelly used and is 
 she the less interesting on that account? I wish I knew 
 how to make her some amends." 
 
 Thus reasoned our moral fisher with himself, keeping 
 all the while a sidelong glance towards her, till he saw 
 her enter a little neat white- washed cottage not far from 
 the side of the stream ; there were sundry other houses 
 inhabited by cottagers in the hamlet, and the farm-house 
 stood at the head of the cluster. The ground belonged 
 to Lindsey, and the farmer was a quiet sober man, a wi- 
 dower, with a large family. Lindsey now went up the 
 water a-fishing every day ; and though he often hovered 
 a considerable while at the washing-pool, and about the 
 crook opposite to the cot, pretending all the while to be 
 extreme^ busy fishing, he could never get another sight 
 of the lovely Wool-gatherer, though he desired it above all 
 present earthly things ; for, some way or other, he felt 
 that he pitied her exceedingly ; and though he was not 
 greatly interested in her, yet he was very much so 
 in the child he was certain it was the child that in- 
 terested him so much nevertheless, he was sorry too on 
 account of the mother, for she seemed very gentle, and 
 very amiable, and must have been abominably used ; and 
 therefore he could not help feeling very sorry for her in- 
 deed, as well as deeply interested in the child. On the 
 second and third day that he went up, little George came 
 out paddling to meet him at the water side, on which he 
 always sent him in again with a fish in one hand, and some 
 
184 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 little present in the other ; but after that, he appeared no 
 more, which Lindsey easily perceived to originate in the 
 Wool-gatherer's diffidence and modesty, who could not 
 bear the idea of her little man receiving such gifts. 
 
 The same course was continued for many days, and 
 always with the same success, as far as regarded the prin- 
 cipal motive, for the trouts were only a secondary one 
 the beauteous Wool-gatherer was thenceforward invisible. 
 After three weeks' perseverance, it chanced to come on a 
 heavy rain one day when he was but a little way above the 
 farm-house. Robin the farmer, expecting that he would fly 
 into his house until the shower abated, was standing with- 
 out his own door to receive him ; but he kept aloof, passed 
 by, and took shelter in the Wool-gatherer's cottage ; 
 though not without some scruples of conscience as to the 
 prudence of the step he was taking. When he went in 
 she was singing a melodious Scottish air, and plying at her 
 wheel. " What a thoughtless creature she must be," 
 said he to himself ; " and how little conscious of the state 
 to which she has fallen." He desired her to go on with 
 her song, but. she quitted both that and her wheel instantly, 
 set a chair for him, and sitting down on a low form her- 
 self, lighted sticks on the fire to warm and dry him, at 
 the same time speaking and looking with the utmost cheer- 
 fulness, and behaving with all that ease and respect as if 
 she had been his equal, and an old intimate acquaintance. 
 He had a heart of the greatest integrity, and this was the 
 very manner that delighted him ; and indeed he felt that 
 he was delighted in the highest degree by this fair mys- 
 tery. He would gladly have learned her story, but durst 
 not hint at such a thing for fear of giving her pain, and 
 he had too much delicacy to inquire after her at any other 
 person, or even to mention her name. He observed that 
 though there was but little furniture in the house, yet it 
 was not in the least degree like any other he had ever seen 
 in such a cottage, and seemed very lately to have occu- 
 pied a more respectable situation. Little George was 
 munching at a lump of dry bread, making very slow pro- 
 gress. He kept his eyes fixed on his benefactor, but 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 185 
 
 said nothing for a considerable time, till at length he ob- 
 served him sitting silent as in pleasing contemplation ; he 
 then came forward with a bounce upon his knee, and 
 smiled up in his face, as much as to say, " You are not 
 minding little George ?" 
 
 " Ah, my dear little fellow, are you there? Will you 
 have a muckle shilling of me to-day ?" 
 
 " Na, na ; be vely solly. Mamma quite angly. She 
 scold me." 
 
 " Well, but since you have never come to help me to 
 catch the fish for so long a time, I will only give you a 
 very little one to-day." . 
 
 " Dear sir, if you would not distress me, don't mind 
 him ; he is a little impudent fellow. Go off from the 
 gentleman, George." 
 
 George clapped both his hands upon his head, and went 
 back without hesitation, gloomed at his mamma, and took 
 again up his luncheon of dry bread. 
 
 " Nay, pardon me," continued Lindsey ; " but you must 
 always suffer me to give my little new acquaintance some- 
 thing." So saying, he put a guinea into the child's hand. 
 
 " Hank you, sil," said George. " O no be angy, 
 mamma only ittle wee halfpenny ook ye, mamma." 
 
 " Oh sir," said she, " you distress me by these presents. 
 I have no need of money, and what can he do with it but 
 throw it away ?" 
 
 " Nay, nay ; pray don't notice it ; that is nothing be- 
 tween two friends like George and me." 
 
 Lindsey dried himself; talked of indifferent matters, 
 and then took the child on his knee and talked to him. The 
 conversation had as yet been as free and unrestrained as 
 possible, but Lindsey, by a blunder quite natural to a 
 studious and absent man, cut it short at once. " Tell me 
 your name, good lad?" said he to the child. " Let me 
 hear you say your name ? 
 
 " George," was the reply. 
 
 " But what more than George? Tell me what they 
 call you more than George?" 
 
 " Just Geoge, sil. Mamma's Geoge." 
 
186 THE WOOL-GATH&RER. 
 
 " Pray, what is my young friend's surname ?" said 
 Lindsey, with the greatest simplicity. 
 
 The Wool-gatherer stooped to the floor as if lifting 
 something, in order that she might keep her face out of 
 the light ; two or three times an answer seemed trembling 
 on her tongue, but none came. There was a dead silence 
 in the cot, which none had the courage to break. How 
 our unfortunate fisher's heart smote him ! He meant 
 only to confer happiness, in place of which he had given 
 unnecessary pain and confusion. The shower was past ; 
 he arose abruptly, said, " Goodb'ye, I will call and see 
 my little George to-morrow," and home he went, more 
 perplexed than ever, and not overmuch pleased with him- 
 self. But the thing that astonished him most of all was, 
 the cheerful serenity of her countenance and manners 
 under such grievous misfortunes. He did not know 
 whether to blame or approve of her for this ; however, he 
 continued to go up the water for the most part every day, 
 and seldom failed to call at the cot. He meant no ill he 
 was certain he meant no harm to any one it was only 
 to see the child that he went, and why should any man 
 be ashamed to go and see a child ? Very well reasoned, 
 gentle fisher ! but beware that this is not the reverse of 
 what you feel within. At all events, it is the world that 
 must judge of your actions and mine, not we ourselves. 
 Scandal is a busy vixen, and none can make fame fly so 
 fast on an errand as she. 
 
 Robin, the farmer, was hurt in the tenderest part that 
 day when his laird went by his door, and took shelter in 
 the Wool-gatherer's cot ; and, on going in, he mentioned 
 it in such a way, that his old-maiden sister, Meg, took 
 note of it, and circulated it among the men-servants, with 
 strong injunctions of secrecy. The continuation of his 
 visits confirmed their worst suspicions ; it was now no 
 longer a matter of doubt with them what was going on, 
 but an obvious certainty. The shameful and sudden at- 
 tachment was blabbed from tongue to tongue, until every 
 ear in the parish had drunk the delicious draught, save 
 those of the parties implicated, and the old lady, the ori- 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 187 
 
 ginal cause of all. When he was seen go into the cot, 
 an event that was strictly watched, the lasses would smile 
 to each other, the ploughmen broke jests upon it, and 
 Meg would hold up both her hands and say, " Hech 
 wow, sirs ! I wonder what our young gentles will turn 
 to by an' by. It winna be lang till marriage be out o' the 
 fashion a' thegither, an' the fock that pretend to be Chris- 
 tians a' living through other like the wild Tartarers." 
 
 Little wist the old lady of what was going on ! She 
 dreamed not once of a beautiful stranger among the cot- 
 tagers at Todburn (the name of Robin's farm), that was 
 working such deray, else woe would have been to her and 
 all concerned ; for there was nothing short of the sin not 
 to be forgiven, that she dreaded so much as her son 
 forming any attachment or connexion with the country 
 maidens. She had been congratulating herself mightily 
 on the success of her expedient, in making him take such 
 delight in a manly and healthful exercise, and one which 
 led him insensibly to be acquainted with his people, and 
 every part of his estate. She had even been boasting 
 aloud of it to every one with whom she conversed ; in- 
 deed her conversation with others was mostly about her 
 son, for he being her only surviving child, she loved him 
 with her whole heart, and her cares were all for him. 
 
 It happened one day that a little pert girl had come 
 down from one of the cottages at Todburn to buy some milk, 
 which the lady supplied to them from her dairy, and while 
 skimming and measuring it, she fell into conversation with 
 this little sly and provoking imp. 
 
 " Did you see my son fishing in the water as you came 
 down ?" 
 
 " Na, na, mini ; he was safe landit or I came away. 
 He was fishing wi' Hoy's net" 
 
 " Safe landit ? Fishing wi' Hoy's net ? How do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " He was gane in to take a rest, mim, that's a'." 
 
 " Oh, that was a' was it ? I'm glad to hear o' that. 
 I never knew he had called upon his tenants, or looked 
 after them at all !" 
 
188 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 " I trow he disna look muckle after them, mini. He's 
 keener o' lookin' after something else." 
 
 " Oh ay, the trouts ! To be sure they hae almaist 
 gane between him an' his wits for some time ; but he'll 
 aye be seeing something o' his land, an' something o' his 
 fock. It was I that persuaded him to it. There are 
 some lucky hits in life." 
 
 " Ay, an' some lucky misses too, mim, that some think 
 he likes as weel." 
 
 " He's sae tender-hearted, I believe he may be as 
 happy oft to miss the fish as to hit them ; but that will 
 soon wear away, as I tell him. He's tender hearted to 
 a fault." 
 
 " An' there's mae tender heartit nor him. There's 
 some other kind o' misses forbye trouts up the water." 
 
 " What is it you say ?" 
 
 " I'll say nae mair about it ane may very easily speak 
 muckle nonsense." 
 
 " Didna ye say that my son was gane into Robin's 
 house afore ye came away ?" 
 
 " I never said sic a word, begging your pardon, mim. 
 He wadna gang into Robin's, though it war raining auld 
 wives and Jeddart staves." 
 
 " What house was he gone into then?" 
 
 " Into Jeany's, mim." 
 
 " Jeany's ! What Jeany ?" 
 
 " I dinna ken what they ca' her mair than Jeany. 
 Little George's mother, ye ken, that lives at the head o ? 
 the Washing-green." 
 
 "Jeany ! Little George's mother ! That lives at the 
 head o' the Washing-green ! Wha is she ? Where 
 comes she frae ? Has she a husband ?" 
 
 " Na, na, mim nae husband." 
 
 The lady breathed as short as if in the heat of a fever 
 hasted out to the air, and then returned with equal 
 haste into the house, without being able to accomplish 
 anything, for her hands trembled like the aspen leaf ; and, 
 finally, after ordering the girl to send Robin down to her 
 immediately, she took to her bed, and lay brooding over 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 189 
 
 the great calamity of her son's shameful attachment. 
 These low-bred women were her bane ; especially if 
 they were beautiful, she loathed, she hated, and, if she 
 could, would have cleared the country of them. This, 
 therefore, was a great trial ; and before Robin arrived, 
 she had made out to herself a picture of as many disagree- 
 able objects as ever a distempered imagination conceived. 
 Instead of a genteel respected wife, the head of a lovely 
 family, a disgraceful connexion, and an illegitimate off- 
 spring ! Ills followed on ills, a dreadful train ! She 
 could think of nothing else, and the more she thought 
 of it the worse did the consequences appear. Before 
 her messenger reached Robin, she had regularly deter- 
 mined on the young woman's dismissal from the estate, 
 and, if possible, from the district. 
 
 We shall pass over a long conversation that took place 
 between the old dame and Robin. It was maintained 
 with great bitterness on the one hand, and servility on 
 the other ; but the final resolution was, that Jane should 
 be ordered to depart from Todburn that night, or early 
 the next morning ; and if she refused, Robin was to 
 bribe her to a compliance with any moderate sum of 
 money, rather than that she should be suffered to remain 
 longer ; for the lady sagely observed, she might corrupt 
 and lead astray all the young men in the country side, 
 and would likely, at the long run, cost the parish more 
 than if it were to maintain a company of soldiers. Last 
 of all, it was decreed that their proceedings should be 
 kept a profound secret from Lindsey. 
 
 Robin went home ; and waiting upon Jane, told her 
 abruptly to prepare for her immediate departure from the 
 house that she occupied, for that she could not be longer 
 there ; and that he would be answerable for her furniture 
 until she sent for it, or otherwise disposed of it ; that she 
 needed not to ask any questions as to his motives, for 
 that he was obliged to do as he did, and the thing was 
 decided that she was not to remain longer there. 
 
 She answered not a word ; but, with the tears in her 
 eyes, and many a half-smotheBed sob, she packed tip a 
 
190 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 small bundle of clothes, and, taking that below her arm 
 and little George on her back, she went away, having 
 first locked the door and given the key to the farmer. 
 " Farewell, Robin," said she ; " you are turning two very 
 helpless and friendless creatures out to the open fields ; 
 but think you, you may not rue this on a day when you 
 cannot help it ?" 
 
 Robin was affected, but he was obliged to do as he 
 was desired, and therefore made no defence, but said 
 simply, "Farewell! Farewell! God help thee, poor 
 thing !" He then kept an eye on her, that she might 
 not communicate with any of the rest until she was fairly 
 across the end of the Todburn-Law, and he was agree- 
 ably surprised at seeing her take that direction. 
 
 As soon as she got out of sight of her late dwelling, 
 she sought a retired spot by the side of a clear mountain 
 rivulet, where she sat down and gave free vent to her 
 tears. " My poor child/' said she, clasping little George 
 to her breast, " what is now to become of us, and where 
 will our sorrows terminate?. Here we are turned out 
 on the wide world, and have neither house nor home to 
 cover our heads ; we have no bed now, George,, but the 
 cold earth, and no covering but that sky that you see 
 over us." 
 
 " O no geet, mamma no geet ; Geoge vely wae," said 
 the child, clasping her neck in return, and sobbing aloud ; 
 " no geet, else Geoge tuln bad child, and geet too." 
 
 " No, for your sake, my dear, I will not greet ; there- 
 fore cheer up thy little kind heart, for there is One who 
 will provide for us still, and will not suffer two helpless 
 inexperienced beings like you and I to perish." 
 
 " Geoge like 'at man." 
 
 " It is no man that we must now depend on, my dear ; 
 we must depend on God, who will never forsake us." 
 
 " Geoge like God." 
 
 Here she kissed him and wept anew, yet was all the 
 while trying to console him. " Let us be of good cheer, 
 George ; while I have health I will work for you, for 
 you have no one else on earth that cares for you." 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 191 
 
 " But no geet, mamma, I tell you ; Geoge wulk too. 
 When Geoge tuln geat big man, Geoge wulk mole 'an 
 two mans." 
 
 Here their tender prattle was interrupted by a youth 
 named Barnaby, who was close at their side before they 
 observed him. He was one of Robin's servants, who 
 herded a few young sheep at the back of the hill where 
 Jane was sitting. He was fifteen years of age, tall and 
 thin, but had fine features, somewhat pitted with the 
 small-pox. He had an inexhaustible fund of good 
 humour and drollery, and playing the fool among the 
 rest of the servants to keep them laughing was his chiefest 
 delight ; but his folly was all affected, and the better- part 
 of his character lay concealed behind the screen of a fan- 
 tastic exterior. He never mended his clothes like the 
 rest of the servant lads, but suffered them to fall into as 
 many holes as they inclined ; when any expostulated with 
 him on the subject, he said, " he likit them nae the waur 
 o' twa or three holes to let in the air ;" and, in truth, he 
 was as ragged a youth as one would see in a summer 
 day. His hat was remarkably broad-brimmed and supple, 
 and hung so far over his eyes, that, when he looked any 
 person in the face, he had to take the same position as if 
 looking at a vertical star. This induced him often, when 
 he wanted to see fairly about him, to fold in the fore 
 part of the brim within the crown, which gave it the 
 appearance of half a hat, and in this way was he equipped 
 when he joined Jane and little George. They had been 
 intimately acquainted from the first ; he had done many 
 little kind offices for her, and had the sagacity to discover 
 that there was something about her greatly superior to 
 the other girls about the hamlet ; and he had never used 
 the same freedom with her in his frolics that he was wont 
 to do with them. 
 
 " What ails you, Jeany ?'' said he ; "I thought I heard 
 you greeting." 
 
 " No, no, Barnaby ; I do not ail any thing ; I was not 
 crying." 
 
 " Why, woman, you're crying yet, as you call it ; tell 
 
192 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 me what ails you, and whar ye're gaun this wild 
 gate?" 
 
 " I'm going to leave you, Barnaby. I am going far 
 from this." 
 
 " I fear ye're gaun awa frae us a'thegither. Hae ye 
 been obliged to leave your ain wee house for want o' 
 meat ?" 
 
 " I had plenty of meat ; but your master has turned 
 me out of my cot at an hour's warning ; he would not 
 even suffer me to remain overnight, and I know of no 
 place to which I can go." 
 
 " O, deil be i' the auld hard-heartit loon ! Heard 
 ever ony body the like o' that ? What ailed him at ye ? 
 Hae ye done ony thing, Jeany, or said ony thing wrang ?" 
 
 "It is that which distresses me. I have not been 
 given to know my offence, and I can form no conjecture 
 of it." 
 
 " If I had a hame, Jeany, ye should hae a share o't. 
 I dinna ken o' ane I wad make mair welcome, even 
 though I should seek a bed for mysel. War ye at my 
 father's cottage, I could insure you a month's good namely 
 lodging, but it is far away, an' a wild road till't. I hae 
 indeed an auld aunt about twa miles frae this, but she's 
 no muckle to lippen to, unless it come frae her ain side 
 o' the house ; an' then she's a' hinny and joe. If ye like 
 I'll gang that length wi' ye, an' try if she'll put ye up a 
 while till we see how matters turn." 
 
 Jane was now so much confused in her mind, that, 
 not being able to form any better measure for the present, 
 she arose and followed her ragged conductor, and they 
 arrived at his aunt's house before sunset. 
 
 " My dear aunt," said Barnaby, "here is a very good 
 an' a very helpless lassie turned away frae her hame this 
 same day, and has nae place to gang to ; if yell be sae 
 good, an' sae kind, as to let her stay a while wi' you, I 
 will do ten times as muckle for you again some ither 
 day." 
 
 " My faith, stirra !" said she, setting up a face like a 
 firebrand, and putting her arms a-kimbo " My faith, 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 193 
 
 man, but ye're soon begun to a braw trade ! How can 
 ye hae the assurance, ye brazen-faced rascal, to come 
 running to me wi' a hizzy an* bairn at your tail, an' desire 
 me to keep them for ye ? I'll sooner see you an* her, an' 
 that little limb, a' hung up by the links o' the neck, than 
 ony o' ye sal crook a hough or break bread wi' me." 
 
 " There's for't now! There's for't! When the deil 
 gets in, the fire maun flee out ! But, aunt, I ken the first 
 word's aye the warst wi' ye; ye're never sae ill as ye 
 say. Think like a Christian. How wad ye hae likit, 
 when ye war as young, to hae been turned out to the 
 open hills wi' a bairn in your arms ?" 
 
 "Hear to the tatterdemallion ! Christian! Bairn i* 
 my arms! ye impudent, hempy-looking tike that ye 
 are ! Pack out o' my house, I say, or I'll gar the bluid 
 blind your een ay, an' your bit toastit pie too ! Gang 
 after your braw gallaunt, wi' your oxterfu" ket ! -A bonny 
 pair, troth ! A light head makes a heavy fitt !" 
 
 Barnaby retired with his back foremost, facing up to his 
 aunt all the way till fairly in the open fields, for fear of 
 actual violence; but the epithets he bestowed on her 
 there in the bitterness of his heart cannot here be set 
 down. Jane trembled, yet was obliged to smile at his 
 extravagance, for it had no bounds ; while his aunt stood 
 in her door, exulting and calling after him every thing 
 that she could construe to mortify and provoke him. 
 Tears for a space choked his utterance ; at length he 
 forced out the following sentence in volleys. 
 
 " Wae wae be to the the auld randy witch ! Had 
 I but the owrance o' the land for ae day I I should 
 gar some look about them. My Master an' she hae this 
 wark to answer for yet ; they'll get their dichens for't 
 some day that's ae comfort ! Come away, Jeany 
 they'll squeal for this let them tak it! Come away, 
 Jeany." 
 
 " Where would you have me to go now, Barnaby?" 
 
 " Out-by aff that auld witch at ony rate ! I'll hae ye 
 put up though I should travel a hunder mile." 
 
 " Let me beseech you to return to your flock, and 
 
194 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 trouble yourself no farther about my infant and me. 
 Heaven will take care of us." 
 
 " It disna look very like it just now. I dinna arguy 
 that it is wrang to trust in Heaven only, gin we dinna 
 use the means, Heaven's no obliged to work miracles for 
 us. It is hard upon the gloamin', an' there is not another 
 house near us ; if we sit down and trust, ye'll hae to sleep 
 in the fields, an' then baith you an' that dear bairn may 
 get what ye will never cast. Let us make a wee exer- 
 tion the night, and I hae resolved what ye shall do to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " And what shall I do to-morrow, Barnaby?" 
 
 " Go with me to my parents ; they hae nae doughter 
 o' their ain, an' my mither will be muckle the better o' 
 your help, an' they will baith be very glad to see you, 
 Jeany. Gudeness be thankit ! the warld's no just a' alike. 
 I' the mean time my pickle gimmers dinna need muckle 
 at my hand just nowj sae I'll gae an' ax my master for a 
 day to see my fock, and gang fit for fit wi' ye the morn." 
 
 She fixed her humid eyes on him in pleasing astonish- 
 ment ; she had never before witnessed such earnest and 
 disinterested benevolence ; the proposal was made in 
 such a way that she could not refuse it, else she saw that 
 she would give a kind and feeling heart pain. " I have 
 a great mind to make trial of your expedient, good Bar- 
 naby," said she ; "all parts of the country are now alike 
 to me ; I must go somewhere ; and as it is but a hard 
 day's journey, I will go and see the parents of so good a 
 lad." 
 
 " Now that's spoken like yoursel, an' I'm glad to hear 
 ye say't But what's to come o' ye the night ?" 
 
 " I have some victuals with me, and I can lie in the 
 fields this pleasant night ; it is a good one to begin with, 
 for who knows what's before one?" 
 
 " I canna think o' that ava. If ye war to lay that 
 bonny red cheek on the cauld dew, an' the wind blawin' 
 i' little George's face, there wad some sleep nane the night ; 
 but there is a little snug sheep-house in our Hope, a wee 
 bit frae this ; let us gang there, an' I will take little 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 195 
 
 George in my bosom, an' hap you wi' rny plaid. O, but 
 1 forgot that will never do," continued he, in a melan- 
 choly tone, and looking at his ragged doublet and riven 
 clothes. Away, however, to the sheep-cot they went, 
 where they found plenty of old hay, and Jane instantly 
 proposed that he should go home and leave them alone, 
 get leave of his master, and join them next morning. 
 
 " But I dinna ken about it," said Barnaby, hanging 
 his head and looking serious ; " that linn's an unco uncan- 
 ny place for bogles ; an' by this time o' night they'll be 
 keeking ower the black haggs o' the Cairny Moss to see 
 what's gaun on. If ony o' them war to come on ye here, 
 they might terrify you out o' your wits, or carry ye baith 
 aff, lith and limb Is the callant baptized ?" 
 
 Jane answered in the affirmative, smiling ; and farther 
 assured him, that he needed to be under no apprehen- 
 sions on account of spirits, for she was perfectly at ease 
 on that score, having a good assurance that no spirit had 
 power over her. 
 
 " Ay, ye are maybe a gospel minister's bairn, or an 
 auld Cameronian ; that is, I mean come o' the saints and 
 martyrs they had unco power I hae heard o' some o' 
 them that fought the deil, hand to fist, for an hour and 
 forty minutes, and dang him at the last yethered him 
 and yerked him till he couldna mou' another curse. But 
 these times are gane ! yet it's no sae lang sin' auld Mac- 
 millan (ye hae heard o' auld Macmillan ?) was coming 
 through that linn i' the derk wi' twa o' his elders, an' they 
 spak o' the bogle, but Macmillan jeered at it ; an' when they 
 came to the tap o' yon steep brae they stoppit to take their 
 breath, and there they heard a loud nichering voice come 
 out o' the how o' the linn, an' it cried s 
 
 " Ha, ha, Macky ! had ye been your lane, 
 
 Ye should never hae crackit through either wood or \vater again." 
 
 " Say ye sae, fause loon," quo' the auld hardy veteran ; 
 " than be at your speed, for I'll gang through that wood 
 my lane in spite o' your teeth, an' a' hell at your back." 
 
 An' what does the carl do, but leaves his twa elders 
 
196 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 yonder, standin glowrin i' the howe night, an' trodges his 
 way back through the linn to the very farrest side o't 
 said the hunder-an'-ninth psalm against him, an' came 
 back wi' never a turned hair on his head. But yet for a' 
 that, Jeany, dinna lippen ower muckle to bygane things ; 
 there have been fairy raids i' the Hope, an' moriy ane ill 
 fleyed. I could tell ye sic a story of a wicked laird 
 here !" 
 
 Jane entreated him not to tell it that night, but amuse 
 them with it to-morrow as they journeyed. He was passive 
 left them his plaid went home and got leave of absence 
 from his master for two days, but hinted nothing of what 
 had passed in the Hope. He was again back at the sheep- 
 house by the time the sun rose ; and, early as it was, he 
 found Jane walking without, while little George was sleep- 
 ing soundly on the hay, wrapped in the plaid. She said 
 she had got a sound and short sleep, but awakening at 
 dawn she had stepped out to taste the fresh mountain air, 
 and see the sun rise. When they lifted the child he was 
 somewhat fretful a thing not customary with him; but 
 he was soon pacified, and they proceeded without delay 
 on their journey. 
 
 Until once they had cleared the boundaries of the farm 
 of Todburn, Barnaby was silent, and looked always around 
 with a jealous eye, as if dreading a surprise. When his 
 fellow traveller asked the reasons of his anxiety, he re- 
 mained silent ; but as soon as they got fairly into the next 
 glen he became as gay and talkative as ever. She deemed 
 it to be some superstitious dread that discomposed him, 
 but was left to guess the cause. 
 
 "Jeany," said he, " you said you had a short and sound 
 sleep last night so had I. Pray, did you dream ony ?" 
 
 " Not that I remember of ; but I put no faith in dreams." 
 
 " Weel, how different fock's bodies, or their souls, or 
 something about them maun be frae ane anither ! For 
 I'm come this length in the warld, an' I never yet dreamed 
 a regular dream, in a sound sleep, that I didna get as 
 plainly read to me as the A, B, C. I had a strange 
 dream last night, Jeany, an' it was about you. I am sure 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 197 
 
 I'll live to see it fulfilled ; but what it means even now, 
 I canna in the least comprehend." 
 
 " Well, Barnaby, suppose you give us it. I have read 
 the Book of Knowledge, and may lend vou a hand at the 
 interpretation." 
 
 " I thought I saw ye lying in a lonesome place, an' no 
 ane in the wide world to help or heed ye, till there was 
 a poor bit black mootit-like corby came down frae the 
 hills an' fed ye. I saw it feeding ye, an' I thought ye 
 war as contentit, an' as bonny, an' as happy as ever. 
 But ere ever I wist, down comes there a great majestic 
 eagle some gate frae about the e'e-bree o' the heavens, 
 an' cleeks ye away up to the lowne bieldy side o' a sunny 
 hill, where ye had a' braw things. An' I dinna ken how 
 it was, I thought ye war a she eagle sitting amang your 
 young, an' I thought aye ye war a woman too, an' I 
 coudna separate the tane frae the tither ; but the poor bit 
 plottit forefoughen corby gaed alang w'ye, an' ye war kind 
 to him, an' fed him in your turn, an' I saw him hoppin, 
 an' pickin, an' dabbin round about ye, as happy as ever 
 I saw a beast, an' the eagle didna chase him away, but 
 was kind to him ; but somehow, or I wakened, I thought 
 it was the confusedest thing I ever saw. Na, yeneedna 
 laugh nor smile, for we'll baith live to see it read." 
 
 " Believe me, Barnaby, it will never be apparent ; you 
 may force circumstances to agree with it, but these will 
 not be obvious ones." 
 
 " It's needless for me to arguy wi' you unless I can 
 bring things name to your ain conscience ; but can ye 
 say that ye never got a dream read ?" 
 
 " Never that I noted ; for I never thought of them." 
 
 " Or, for instance, have ye never, when you saw a 
 thing for the first time, had a distinct recollection of hav- 
 ing seen it sometime afore?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " How wonderfu' ! I have done so a thousand an' a 
 thousand times. I have remembered of having seen ex- 
 actly the same scene, the same faces, the same looks, and 
 heard the same words, though I knew all the while that 
 2 
 
198 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 I never had seen them in reality ; and that I could only 
 have seen them in some former vision, forgotten, or per- 
 haps never remembered." 
 
 She now saw clearly that dreams, visions, and appari- 
 tions, were Barnaby's region of existence His very 
 thoughts and language seemed elevated whenever he en- 
 tered on the subject ; and it being a trait in the shepherd's 
 character that she had never thought of before, she re- 
 solved to encourage it, and asked for a single instance of 
 that strange foresight alluded to. 
 
 " You'll surely acknowledge," said Barnaby, " that it 
 is impossible I could ever have come up that strait swire 
 before with a bairn on my back, an' a young woman gaun 
 beside me exactly like you ; an' that while in that condi- 
 tion, I should have met wi' a bull an' a cow coming out o* 
 the path by themsels, an' thought o' yon craig for a shelter 
 to the bairn that I was carrying ; yet when that happened 
 about an hour ago, I remembered so distinctly of having 
 gone through it some time long before, that I knew every 
 step that would next be taken, and every word that would 
 next be said. It made me very thoughtful ; but I can 
 remember nothing of where or when I dreamed it, or 
 what was the issue. 
 
 " There was another instance that I'll never forget. 
 The winter afore last, I gaed out wi' my father in the 
 morning to help him to gather the sheep ; for the rime 
 had sitten down, an' the clouds war creepin, and we kend 
 the drift wad be on. Weel, away we sets, but a' the 
 hills were wrappit i' the clouds o' rime as they had been 
 rowed in a fleece o' frosty woo, an' we couldna see a 
 stime ; we were little better than fock gaun graiping for 
 sheep ; an' about twal o'clock, (I mind it weel,) just 
 when I was in the very straitest and steepest part o' the 
 Shielbrae-Hope, the wind gae a swirl, an' I lookit up an' 
 saw the cloud screwing up to heaven the brow o' the 
 hill cleared, an' I saw like a man cringing and hanging 
 ower the point o' the rock, an' there was seven white 
 ewes an' a black ane gaun bleetin in a raw yont aneath 
 him. That was a' ; but the sight strak me motionless. 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 199 
 
 I mindit that I had seen the very thing afore ; the very 
 clouds the very rocks an' the man standing courin' 
 and keekin' ower, wi' the white rime hingin' about his 
 lugs like feathers ; an' I mindit that it ended ill it endit 
 awsomely ! for I thought it endit in death. I could 
 speak nae mair a' that day ; for I expectit that either my 
 father or I wad never gang hame living. He aften said 
 to me, * What ails ye, callant ? Are ye weel eneugh ? 
 Od, ye're gane stupid.' We saved some sheep, an' lost 
 some, like mony ane, for it was a dreadfu' afternoon ; 
 however, we wan baith safe hame. But that night, afore 
 we gaed to bed, our neighbour, auld Robin Armstrong, 
 was brought into our house a corp. Our fock had amaist 
 gane out o' their judgment ; but the very features, the 
 white rime frozen about the cauld stiff een, an' the ice- 
 shogles hangin' at the grey hair, war nae new sight to 
 me : I had seen them a' before, I kendna when. Ah, 
 Jeany ! never tell me that we haena some communication 
 wi' intelligences, far ayont our capacity to comprehend." 
 
 The seriousness of Barnaby's manner made it evident 
 to his fellow traveller that he believed in the reality of 
 every word he had said ; there was an inconceivable sub- 
 limity in the whole idea, and she fancied herself going to 
 reside, perhaps for a season, in the regions of imagination 
 and romance, and she asked him if his father and mother 
 had faith in dreams an' apparitions ? 
 
 " Aye, that they hae," answered he ; " ye had need to 
 tak care how ye dispute the existence of fairies, brownies, 
 and apparitions there ; ye may as weel dispute the gospel 
 o' Sant Matthew. We dinna believe in a' the gomral 
 fantastic bogles an' spirits that fley light-headed fock up 
 an' down the country, but we believe in a' the apparitions 
 that warn o' death, that save life, an' that discover guilt. 
 I'll tell you what we believe, ye see. 
 
 " The deil an* his adgents, they fash nane but the 
 gude fock ; the Cameronians, an' the prayin' ministers, 
 an' sic like. Then the bogles, they are a better kind o' 
 spirits, they meddle wi' nane but the guilty ; the mur- 
 derer, an' the mansworn, an' the cheater o' the widow an' 
 
200 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 fatherless, they do for them. Then the fairies, they're 
 very harmless ; they're keener o' fun an' frolic than aught 
 else ; but if fock neglect kirk ordinances, they see after 
 them. Then the brownie, he's a kind o' half-spirit half- 
 man ; he'll drudge an' do a' the wark about the town for 
 his meat, but then he'll no work but when he likes for a' 
 the king's dominions. That's precisely what we a' be- 
 lieve here awa', auld an' young ; an' I'll tell ye twa or 
 three stories that we a' ken to be true, an' which I wadna 
 misbelieve for a' that I'm worth. 
 
 " Sandy Shiel, the herd o' the Birky-Cleuch, was 
 standing afore his sheep ae fine day in winter. The 
 snaw had been drifted ower the brae-head to the size of 
 another hill, but it was blawn bare aneath ; an' there 
 was Sandy standin' i' the sun afore his sheep whistling 
 an' singing, and knitting a stocking. Ere ever he wist 
 there comes a broken leggit hare by his very foot Every 
 Scotsman's keen of a hunt Sandy flings the plaid frae 
 him, an' after the hare what he can streik, hallooing, and 
 crying on his dog to kep. As he gaed o'er the brow he 
 was close upon her, an' had up his stick just to knock 
 her dead Tut ! the hare vanished in a moment 1 Sandy 
 jumpit round about an' round about ' What the devil's 
 come o' my hare now ? Is she santit ? or yirdit ? or 
 flown awa"?' Sandy lookit up into the air, but she wasna 
 to be seen there neither. She was gane, an' for ever ! 
 Sandy was amaist swarfd, the cauld sweat brak on him, 
 an' he clew his head. ' Now, gude faith, I hae seen 
 muckle,' quo' Sandy, 'but the like o' that I saw never.' 
 Sandy trodged back, wan tin' his hare, to lift his plaid. 
 But what think ye? The hale volume o' snaw on the 
 hill aboon had shot away and buried the plaid fifty feet 
 deep ; it was nae mair seen till the month o' May. 
 Sandy kneeled down amang the snaw and thankit his 
 Maker; he saw brawly what the hare had been. 
 
 " I'll tell you another that I like still better. The 
 shepherd's house at Glen-Tress, in Tweeddale, had ance 
 been a farm-steading, but it was at the time this happen- 
 ed inhabited by an honest respectable shepherd, his wile 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 20 1 
 
 and six children. One evening after the sun had set, 
 the eldest girl came running in, crying, ' Bless me, sirs, 
 come here Here is the grandest lady coming to the 
 house that ever was seen in the world.' They all ran to 
 the door, young and old, and they every one saw her 
 coming at the distance of only about twenty paces She 
 was never more seen ! But that very moment the house 
 fell in, gable and all, with a dreadful crash ; and thus a 
 worthy family was saved from momentary destruction. 
 Ah ! I wadna hae given that man's feelings of gratitude 
 that night toward his Maker and Preserver, for a' the 
 dogmas of a thousand cauld-heartit philosophers !" 
 
 " Nor would I," said Jane ; and they walked on in 
 deep silence. 
 
 Barnaby always carried the child one half of the way 
 as nearly as they could agree, but after carrying him often 
 two miles, he would contend that it was but one ; they 
 got plenty of bread and milk at the farm-houses and cot- 
 tages as they passed, for there was no house of accommo- 
 dation near the whole of their track. One time, after 
 they had refreshed and rested themselves, Jane reminded 
 her conductor that he had promised the evening before 
 to entertain her on their journey with the story of the pro- 
 fligate laird. 
 
 " That's an awfu' story," said Barnaby, " but it is 
 soon tauld. It was the Laird o' Ettrickhaw ; he that 
 biggit his house amang the widow's corn, and never had a 
 day to do weel in it. It isna yet a full age sin' the foun- 
 dation-stane was laid, an' for a' the grandeur that was 
 about it, there's nae man at this day can tell where, the 
 foundation has been, if he didna ken afore. He was 
 married to a very proud precise lady, come o' high kin, 
 but they greed aye weel eneugh till bonny Molly Grieve 
 came to the house to serve. Molly was as light-hearted 
 as a kid, an* as blithe as a laverock, but she soon altered. 
 She first grew serious, then sad, and unco pale at times ; 
 an' they whiles came on her greetin by herseL It was 
 ower weel seen how matters stood, an' there was nae mair 
 peace about the house. At length it was spread ower a* 
 
202 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 the parish that the lady had gotten Molly a fine genteel 
 service in Edinburgh, an 1 up comes hurkle-backit Charley 
 Johnston, the laird's auld companion in wickedness, wi' 
 a saddle an' a pad to take her away. When they set her 
 on ahint him, Molly shook hands wi' a' the servants, but 
 couldna speak, for she little kend when she would see 
 them again. But, instead o' taking her away i' the fair 
 daylight, i' the ee o' God an' man, he took her away just 
 when the lave war gaun to their beds : an' instead o' gae- 
 ing the road to Edinburgh, they war seen riding ower the 
 Cacra-cross at twal o'clock at night. Bonny Molly Grieve 
 was never seen again, nor heard of mair in this world ! 
 But there war some banes found about the Alemoor Loch 
 that the doctors said had belanged to a woman. There 
 was some yellow hair, too, on the scull, that was unco 
 like Molly's, but nae body could say. 
 
 " Then there was a fine strapping lass came in her place, 
 a farmer's daughter, that had mony a lad running after 
 her, but it wasna a year and a half till a service was to 
 provide in Edinburgh for her too. Up came hurkle-backit 
 Charley to take her away, but no gin they should a' 
 hae sutten down on their knees wad she gae wi' him ; she 
 grat an' pray'd, an' they fleeched an' flait ; but she stayed 
 in the parish in spite o' their teeth, an' shamed them a'. 
 She had a son, but Charley got him to take to the nursing, 
 far away some gate, an' there was nae body ony mair 
 fashed wi' him. 
 
 " It wad be endless to tell ye ower a' their wickedness, 
 for it can hardly be believed. Charley had mony sic job 
 to do, baith at hame and at a distance. They grew baith 
 odious in the country, for they turned aye the langer the 
 waur, and took less pains to hide it ; till ae night that the 
 laird was walking at the back o' his garden, in the moon- 
 light. It was thought he was waiting for a woman he 
 had some tryste with, but that was conjecture, for he 
 never said sae. At length he saw ane coming towards 
 him, and hasted to meet her, but just as he approached, 
 she held up her hand at him, as it war to check him, or 
 make him note who she was ; and when he lookit in her 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER, 203 
 
 face, and saw what it was like, he uttered a loud cry, and 
 fell senseless on the ground. Some fock heard the noise, 
 and ran to the place, and fand him lying streekit in a 
 deep dry seuch at the back of the garden. They carried 
 him in, and he soon came to himself; but after that he 
 was never like the same man, but rather like ane demen- 
 tit. He durst never mair sleep by hirnsel while he lived : 
 but that wasna lang, for he took to drinking, and drank, 
 and swore, and blasphemed, and said dreadfu' things that 
 folk didna understand. At length, he drank sae muckle 
 ae night out o' desperation, that the blue lowe came burn- 
 ing out at his mouth, and he died on his ain hearth-stane, 
 at a time o' life when he should scarcely have been at 
 his prime. 
 
 " But it wasna sae wi' Charley! He wore out a lang 
 and hardened life ; and, at the last, when death came, he 
 coudna die. For a day and two nights they watched him, 
 thinking every moment would be the last, but always a 
 few minutes after the breath had left his lips, the feeble 
 cries of infants arose from behind the bed, and wakened 
 him up again. The family were horrified ; but his sons 
 and daughters were men and women, and for their ain 
 sakes they durstna let ane come to hear his confessions. 
 At last, on the third day at two in the morning, he died 
 clean away. They watched an hour in great dread, 
 and then streekit him, and put the dead-claes on him, 
 but they hadna weel done before there were cries, as if 
 a woman had been drowning, came from behind the bed, 
 and the voice cried, ' O, Charlie, spare my life ! Spare 
 my life ! For your own soul's sake and mine, spare my 
 life !' On which the corpse again sat up in the bed, 
 pawled wi' its hands, and stared round wi' its dead face. 
 The family could stand it nae langer, but fled the house, 
 and rade and ran for ministers, but before any of them 
 got there, Charley was gane. They sought a' the house 
 and in behind the bed, and could find naething ; but that 
 same day he was found about a mile frae his ain house, 
 up in the howe o' the Baileylee-linn, a' torn limb frae 
 limb, an' the dead-claes beside him. There war twa cor- 
 
204 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 bies seen flying o'er the muir that day, carrying some- 
 thing atween them, an' fock suspectit it was Charley's soul, 
 for it was heard makin' a loud maen as they flew o'er 
 Alemoor. At the same time it was reportit, that there 
 was to be seen every morning at two a clock, a naked 
 woman torfelling on the Alemoor loch, wi' her hands tied 
 behind her back, and a heavy stane at her neck. It's an 
 awsome story. I ntver dare tell it but in the middle o" 
 the day, and even then it gars a' my flesh creep ; but the 
 hale country has heard it, and God only kens whether it 
 be true or no. It has been a warning to mony ane." 
 
 Our fair wanderer asked for no more ghost stories. 
 The last had sufficed her, it having been even more 
 shocking than the former ones were delightful ; so they 
 travelled on, conversing about common or casual events, 
 save that she gave him a short sketch of her history, 
 whereof to inform his parents, with strong injunctions of 
 secrecy. They came in view of his father's cottage be- 
 fore sunset. It was situated in the very wildest and most 
 romantic glen in the shire of Peebles, at the confluence 
 of two rough but clear mountain streams, that ran one 
 on each side of the house and kailyard, and mingled their 
 waters immediately below these. The valley was level, 
 green, and beautiful, but the hills on each side, high, steep, 
 and romantic ; and while they cast their long black sha- 
 dows aslant the glen, the beams of the sun were shed over 
 these like streamers in the middle air. It was a scene of 
 tranquillity and repose, if not indeed the abode of the 
 genii and fairies. Jane's heart danced within her when 
 her eye turned to the varied scenery of the mountains, 
 but again sunk when it fell on the cottage at which she 
 was going to seek a retreat. She dreaded her reception, 
 knowing how equivocal her appearance there must be ; 
 but she longed and thirsted for such a retreat, and as she 
 was not destitute of money, she determined to proffer 
 more for her board than she could well afford to pay, 
 rather than be refused. Barnaby also spoke less as they 
 advanced up the glen, and seemed struggling with a kind 
 of dryness about his tongue, which would not suffer him 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 205 
 
 to pronounce the words aright. Two fine shaggy healthy- 
 looking collies came barking down the glen to meet them, 
 and at a timid distance behind them, a half grown puppy, 
 making more noise than them both. He was at one time 
 coming brattling forward, and barking fiercely, as if going to 
 attack them, and at another, running yelping away from 
 them with his tail between his legs. Little George laughed 
 as he had been tickled at him. When the dogs came 
 near, and saw that it was their old fire-side acquaintance 
 and friend, they coured at his feet, and whimpered for 
 joy ; they even licked his fair companion's hand, and ca- 
 pered around her, as if glad to see any friend of Barnaby's. 
 The whelp, perceiving that matters were amicably made 
 up, likewise ventured near ; and though he had never 
 seen any of them before, claimed acquaintance with all, 
 and was so kind and officious that he wist not what to 
 do ; but at last he fell on the expedient of bearing up 
 the corner of Jane's mantle in his mouth, which he did 
 all the way to the house. George was perfectly de- 
 lighted. 
 
 " I think," said Jane, " the kindness of these creatures 
 betokens a hearty welcome within !" 
 
 " Ay, that it does," answered Barnaby ; " a dog that 
 is brought up with a man in a wild place, is always of 
 the very same disposition with himself." 
 
 Strangers seldom approached that sequestered spot 
 passengers never. They observed, while yet at a good 
 distance, Barnaby's mother standing amid her burly boys 
 at the end of the cottage, watching their approach, and 
 they heard her calling distinctly to her husband, " Aigh ! 
 Geordie, yon's our ain Barny, I ken by auld Help's 
 motions ; but wha she is that he's bringing wi' him, is 
 ayont my comprehension." 
 
 She hurried away in to put her fire-side in some order, 
 and nought was then to be seen but two or three bare- 
 headed boys, with their hair the colour of peat-ashes, 
 setting their heads always now and then by the corner 
 of the house, and vanishing again in a twinkling. The 
 old shepherd was sitting on his divot-seat, without the 
 i. s 
 
206 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 door, mending a shoe. Barnaby strode up to him. 
 *' How are ye the night, father ?" 
 
 " No that ill, Barny lad is that you ? How are ye 
 yoursel ?" said a decent-looking middle-aged man, scratch- 
 ing his head at the same time with the awl, and fixing his 
 eyes, not on his son, but the companion that he had 
 brought with him. When he saw her so young, so beau- 
 tiful, and the child in her arms, the inquiring look that 
 he cast on his son was unutterable. Silence reigned for 
 the space of a minute. Barnaby made holes in the ground 
 with his staff the old shepherd began again to sew his 
 shoe, and little George prattled to his mamma, " It's a 
 vely good bonny halp, mamma ; Geoge nevel saw sic a 
 good halp." 
 
 " An' how hae ye been sin' we saw ye, Barny ?" 
 
 " Gaylys !" 
 
 *' I think ye hae brought twa young strangers wi' ye ?" 
 
 " 1 wat have I." 
 
 " Whar fell ye in wi' them ?" 
 
 " I want Jo speak a word to you, father." 
 
 The old shepherd flung down his work, and followed 
 his son round the corner of the house. It was not two 
 minutes till he came back. Jane had sat down on the 
 sod-seat. 
 
 " This is a pleasant evening," said he, addressing her. 
 
 " It is a very sweet evening," was the reply. 
 
 *' Ye'll be weary ; ye had better gang in an' rest ye." 
 
 She thanked him, and was preparing to go. 
 
 "It's a muckle matter," continued he, " whanfock can 
 depend on their ain. My Barny never deceived me a' 
 his life, an' you are as welcome here as heart can mak 
 ye. The flower in May is nae welcomer than ye are 
 to this bit shieling, and your share of a' that's in it. 
 Come your ways in, my bonny woman, an' think nae 
 shame. Ye shall never be lookit on as either a beggar 
 or borrower here, but just ane o' oursels." So say- 
 ing he took her hand in both his, and led her into the 
 house. 
 
 " Wife, here's a young stranger our son has brought 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 207 
 
 to bide a while wi' ye ; mak her welcome i' the mean 
 time, an' ye'll be"'better acquaintit by and by." 
 
 " In troth I sal e'en do sae. Come awa in by to the 
 muckle chair Whar is he himsel, the muckle duddy 
 feltered gouk ?" 
 
 " Ah, he's coming, poor fellow he's takin a tune to 
 himsel at the house-end there's a shower i' the heads 
 wi' Barny his heart can stand naething it is as saft 
 as a snaw-ba', an' far mair easily thawed, but it is aye in 
 the rigjit place for a' that." 
 
 It was a happy evening ; the conversation was inter- 
 esting, and kept up till a late hour ; and when the old 
 couple learned from Jane of the benevolent disinterested 
 part that their son had acted, their eyes glowed with 
 delight, and their hearts waxed kinder and kinder. Before 
 they retired to rest, the old shepherd performed family 
 worship, with a glow of devotional warmth which Jane 
 had never before witnessed in man. The psalm that he 
 sung, the portion of Scripture that he read, and the 
 prayer that he addressed to the throne of grace, savour- 
 ed all of charity and benevolence to our fellow creatures. 
 The whole economy of the family was of that simple and 
 primitive cast, that the dwellers in a large city never 
 dream of as existing. There was to be seen contentment 
 without affluence or ambition, benevolence without osten- 
 tation, and piety without hypocrisy ; but at the same 
 time such a mixture of gaiety, good sense, and super- 
 stitious ideas, blent together in the same minds, as was 
 altogether inscrutable. It was a new state of existence 
 to our fair stranger, and she resolved with avidity to im- 
 prove it to the best advantage. 
 
 But we must now leave her in her new habitation, 
 and return with Barnaby to the families of Earlhall and 
 Todburn. Lindsey went up the water every day fishing 
 as he had done formerly, but was astonished at observing 
 from day to day, that his fair Wool-gatherer's cottage 
 was locked, and no smoke issuing from it. At first he 
 imagined that she might have gone on a visit, but at 
 length began to suspect that some alteration had taken 
 
208 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 place in her circumstances ; and the anxiety that he felt 
 to have some intelligence, whether that change was 
 favourable or the reverse, was such that he himself won- 
 dered at it. He could not account for it even to his 
 own mind. It was certainly the child that so much in- 
 terested him, else he could not account for it. Lindsey 
 might easily have solved the difficulty had he acquiesced 
 freely in the sentiments of his own heart, and acknow- 
 ledged to himself that he was in love. But no ! all his 
 reasoning, as he threw the line across the stream and 
 brought it back again, went to disprove that. " That I 
 can be in love with the girl is out of the question there 
 is no danger of such an event ; for, in the first place, I 
 would not wrong her, or abuse her affections, for the 
 whole world ; and in the next, I have a certain rank and 
 estimation to uphold in society. I am a proprietor to a 
 large extent a freeholder of the county come of a 
 good family, at least by the father's side, and that I 
 should fall in love with and marry a poor Wool-gatherer, 
 
 with a" ! He was going to pronounce a word, but 
 
 it stuck, not in his throat, but in the very utmost per- 
 ceptible avenues that lead to the heart. "It is a very 
 fine child, however, I wish I had him under my pro- 
 tection, then his mother might come and see him ; but I 
 care not for that, provided I had the child. I'll have 
 that child, and for that purpose I will inquire after the 
 mother directly." 
 
 He went boldly up to the cot, and peeped in at the 
 little window. The hearth was cold, and the furniture 
 neatly arranged. He examined the door, but the step 
 and threshold had not been swept as they wont for many 
 days, and the green grass was beginning to peep up 
 around them. " There is something extremely melan- 
 choly in this !" said he to himself. " I could not endure 
 the veriest wretch on my estate to be thus lost, without 
 at least inquiring after him." 
 
 He turned his eyes to the other cottages, and to the 
 farm-house, but lacked the courage to go boldly up to 
 any of them, and ask after the object of his thoughts. 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 209 
 
 He returned to the fishing, but caught no fish, or if he 
 did it was against his will. 
 
 On Barnaby's return he made some sly inquiries about 
 the causes that induced to Jane's removal without effect, 
 the farmer had kept all so snug. But haverel Meg, (as 
 they called her for a nick-name,) his sister, knew, and 
 though she was an excellent keeper of secrets among her 
 own sex, yet she could not help blabbing them some- 
 times to the young fellows, which her brother always 
 accounted a very ridiculous propensity ; whether or not 
 it is a natural one among old maids, the relater of this 
 tale does not pretend to decide ; he is induced to think 
 it is, but is not dogmatic on that side, not having be- 
 stowed due consideration on the subject. 
 
 One day, when Barnaby came home to his breakfast 
 rather later than usual, and while he was sitting hewing 
 away at a good stiff bicker of paritch, mixed with butter- 
 milk, his excellent dog Nimrod all the time sitting with 
 his head leaned on his master's knee, watching the pro- 
 gress of every spoonful, thinking the latter was rather 
 going near him that day in their wonted proportions 
 while Barnaby, I say, was thus delightfully and busily 
 employed, in comes Meg, bare-footed, with a clean white 
 wrapper and round-eared cap on. " Barny, will ye hae 
 time to help me to the water wi' a boucking o' claes ? 
 Ye'll just only hae to carry the tae endo' the hand-barrow 
 to the water, wait till I sinde up the sarks, an' help me 
 name wi' them again." 
 
 " That I will, Miss Peggy, wi' heart an' hand." 
 
 " Miss Peggy ! Snuffs o' tobacco ! Meg's good enough ! 
 Troth, I'm nane o' your molloping, precise flegaries, that 
 want to be miss'd, an' beckit, an' bowed to. Na, sooth ! 
 Meg's good enough ; plain downright Meg o 1 the Todburn" 
 
 " Weel, weel ; haud your tongue, I'll do a' that ye 
 bid me, an' mair, Meg, my bonny woman." 
 
 " How war a' your focks, Barny, when ye war ower 
 seeing them ?" 
 
 " Unco weel, an' they're muckle behadden to you for 
 your kind speering." 
 
210 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 * I kend your father weel ; he's a good cannie man." 
 
 " I wish he had beltit your shoulders as aft as he has 
 done mine, ye maybe wadna hae said sae muckle for 
 him." 
 
 " Ay, it's weel o' you to say sae ; but he's a douse, 
 respectable man, and he's no disgraced in his son." 
 
 Barnaby rose with his bicker in his hand ; gave it a 
 graceful swing, as a gentleman does his hat when he 
 meets a lady, made a low bow, and set down Nimrod his 
 share of the paritch. 
 
 When they went to the river Barnaby sat him down 
 on the bank, and Meg went into the running stream, and 
 began with great agility, and much splashing, to wash 
 up her clothes. Barnaby perceived her smiling to her- 
 self, and was sure that a volley of some stuff or other 
 was forthcoming. She cast her eyes towards the laird's 
 house, then looked up the water, then down, in case any 
 one might be angling on it ; and after perceiving that 
 there was nobody within a mile of them, she spoke as 
 follows to Barnaby, in a half whisper, lest any one should 
 overhear her. 
 
 " Gude sauf us to the day, Barny man ! What think 
 ye o' our laird ?" 
 
 " Very muckle. I think him a decent worthy lad. ; ' 
 
 "Decent! Shame fa' his decency! I watna what 
 will be countit wndecent soon ! Sae ye haena heard o' 
 his shamfu' connexion wi' the bit prodigal, dinnagood 
 lassie, that was here ?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " It's a' ower true though ; but say nae a word about 
 it. My billy Rob was obliged to chase her out o' the 
 country for it ; an' a burnin shame an' a disgrace it was 
 to the laird to take up wi' the likes o' her. Deil a bit o' 
 her has the pith o' a pipe-stapple ! Fich, fy ! Away 
 wi' your spindle-shankit babyclouts they're no the gear." 
 
 " As ye say, Meg. I like nane o' the women that 
 stand pon trifles." 
 
 " Stand on trifles ! Ha ! ha ! that's real good ! that's 
 devilish clever for a young man ! Ha ! ha ! Tut ! that 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 211 
 
 water's weetin' a' my claes. -Wad ye hae made sic a 
 choice, Barny ?" 
 
 "D'ye think that I'm blind? or that I dinna ken 
 what's what ? Na, na, Meg I let me alane ; I'm no sae 
 young a cat but I ken a mouse by a feather." 
 
 " If a' our young men had the sense o' you, Barny, 
 some o' them might get a pock an' a wheen rustit nails 
 to jingle in't ; they might get something better than a bit 
 painted doll, wi' a waist like a thread-paper, an' hae 
 nought ado foreby but to draw in the chair an' sit down ; 
 but they'll im after a wheen clay-cakes baken i' the sun, 
 an' leave the good substantial ait-meal bannocks to stand 
 till they moul, or be pouched by them that draff an' 
 bran wad better hae mensed ! Tut ! I'm ower deep into 
 the stream again, without ever thinkin' o't." 
 
 " That's a' ower true that ye hae been sayin', Meg 
 -ower true, indeed ! But as to your news about the 
 laird and Jane, I dinna believe a word o't." 
 
 *' Oh ! it's maybe no true, ye ken ! It's very likely 
 a lee ! There's naething mair likely, than that a' their 
 correspondence was as pure as the morning snaw. For 
 a laird, ye ken, worth three thousand pund o' yearly 
 rental, to frequent the house o' a bit lassie for an hour 
 ilka day, an' maybe ilka night to, wha kens ; ye ken it's 
 a' fair ! there's nought mair likely than that they're very in- 
 nocent ! An' sic a ane too as she is ! little better, I trow, 
 than she should be, gin a' war kend. To be sure she has 
 a son, that may arguy something for her decency. But 
 after a', I dinna blame her, for I ken by mysel " 
 
 " Haud your tongue now, Meg, my bonny quean ; for 
 I ken ye are gaun to lee on yoursel, an' speak nonsense 
 into the bargain." 
 
 " Ah ! Barny ! but ye are a queer ane !" (then in a 
 whisper.) " I say Barny What do ye think o' the 
 bit farm o' Hesperslack? How wad ye like to be tenant 
 there yoursel, an' hae servants o' your am?" 
 
 " I haena thought about that yet ; but yonder 's my 
 master keekin ower the knowe ; he'll be thinkin I'm stay in 
 unco lang frae my sheep." 
 
212 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 " Ah ! is my billy Rob yonder ? No a word ye ken 
 now, Barny. No a cheip aboon your breath about yon." 
 
 Sad and heavy were Barnaby's reflections that day as 
 he herded his sheep all alone. " And this is the girl 
 that I have taken and recommended so warmly to my 
 parents ! I do not believe the hateful slander ; but I 
 will go and inform them of all. It is proper they should 
 know all that I know, and then let them judge for them- 
 selves. Poor luckless Jeany ! I fear she is a ruined 
 creature, be she as innocent and harmless as she will !" 
 
 Barnaby was resolved to go, but day past on after day, 
 and still he had not the heart to go and tell his parents, 
 although every whisper that he heard tended rather to 
 strengthen suspicion than dispel it. 
 
 On the very day that we left Lindsey in such distress 
 for the loss of his amiable Wool-gatherer, Barnaby and 
 he met by the side of the stream, at the foot of the Tod- 
 burn- Hope. They were both alike anxious to speak to 
 one another, but neither of them had the courage to begin, 
 although both were burning to talk on the same theme. 
 Lindsey fished away, swimming the fly across the ripple 
 as dexterously and provokingly as he was able. Barnaby 
 stood and looked on in silence ; at length a yellowfin 
 rose. " Aigh, that was a great chap! I wish your 
 honour had hookit that ane." 
 
 " It was better for him that I did not. Do you ever 
 fish any ?" 
 
 " O yes. I gump them whiles." 
 
 " Gump them ? pray what mode of fishing is that ?" 
 
 " I guddle them in aneath the stanes an' the braes 
 like." ' 
 
 " I do not exactly understand the terms nor the pro- 
 cess. Pray will you be so good," continued he, holding 
 out the fishing-rod to Barnaby, "as give me a specimen 
 how you gump the fish ?" 
 
 " Od bless you, sir, I can do naething wi' that goad ; 
 but if ye'll gang wi' me a wee piece up the Todburn- 
 Hope, or up to the Rowntree-Linn, I'll let ye see gump- 
 ing to perfection." 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 213 
 
 On being assured that it was not above half a raile to 
 either of the places, the laird accompanied Barnaby with- 
 out hesitation, to witness this pastoral way of fishing. 
 By the way their converse became very interesting to both 
 parties, but we cannot interrupt the description of such a 
 favourite rural sport just now. Let it suffice that their 
 discourse was all concerning a fair unfortunate, of whom 
 the reader has heard a good deal already, and of whom 
 he shall hear more in due time. 
 
 They crossed over a sloping ground, at the bottom of 
 a green steep hill, and soon came into the Todburn-Hope. 
 It was a narrow level valley between two high hills, and 
 terminated in the haunted linn, above the sheep-house 
 formerly mentioned. Down this narrow vale the Tod 
 Burn ran with a thousand beautiful serpentine windings, 
 and at every one of these turns there were one or two clear 
 deep pools, overhung by little green banks. Into the first 
 of these pools Barnaby got with his staff, plunging and poach- 
 ing to make all the fish take into close cover ; then he 
 threw off his ragged coat, tucked up the sleeves of his shirt 
 to the shoulders, tying them together behind, and into 
 the pool he got again, knees and elbows, putting his arms 
 in below the green banks, into the closest and most secret 
 recesses of the trouts. There was no eluding him ; he threw 
 them out one after another, sometimes hitting the aston- 
 ished laird on the face, or any other part of the body with- 
 out ceremony, for his head being down sometimes close 
 with the water, and sometimes below it, he did not see 
 where he flung them. The trouts being a little startled 
 at this momentary change from one element to another, 
 jumped about on the grass, and cast so many acute som- 
 ersets, that the laird had greater difficulty in getting hold of 
 them the second time to put them into his basket, than 
 Barnaby -had at'first ; and when the latter had changed the 
 scene of plunder to a new pool, Lindsey was commonly 
 to be seen beside the old one, moving slowly about on 
 his hands and knees. "I think ye're pinched to catch 
 them on the dry grund, sir," said Barnaby to him. 
 
 " No, no,' 7 returned he, with the utmost simplicity ; 
 
214 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 " but I was looking lest some of them had made their 
 way among the long grass and eluded me ; and besides 
 they are so very active and slippery that I seldom can 
 keep the hold of them that I get." 
 
 As they were going from one of these little pools to 
 another, he said to our shepherd, " So this is what you 
 call gumping ?" 
 
 Yes, sir, this is gumping, or guddling, ony o' them 
 ye like to ca't." 
 
 " I do not think this is altogether a fair way of fishing." 
 
 " Now, I think it is muckle fairer than the tither way, 
 sir. Your way is founded on the lowest artifice and deceit, 
 but I come as an avowed enemy, and let them escape me 
 if they can. I come into a family as a brave mountain 
 robber, or freebooter ; but you come as a deceitful friend, 
 promising to treat the family with all good things, that 
 you may poison them every one unawares. A mountain- 
 eer's sports are never founded on cunning ; it's a' sheer 
 and main force wi' us." 
 
 Lindsey confessed that the shepherd's arguments had 
 some foundation in nature and truth, but that they sa- 
 voured of a period exempt from civilization and the fine 
 arts. " At all events," said he, " it is certainly the most 
 downright way of fishing that I ever beheld." In short, 
 it was not long till the laird was to be seen wading in the 
 pools, and gumping as busily as the other ; and, finally, 
 he was sometimes so intent on his prey, that the water 
 was running over his back, so that when he raised himself 
 up it poured out torrents from his fine Holland shirt and 
 stained cambrick ruffles. " Ye hae settled the pletts o' 
 your sark," said Barnaby. Never did the family of Earl- 
 hall behold such a basket of trouts ; and never had its 
 proprietor such a day's sport at the fishing, as he had at 
 the gumping or guddling the trouts among the links of 
 the Todburn-Hope. 
 
 Though the sport occupied their minds completely 
 during the time they were engaged in it, yet it was only 
 a relaxation from concerns of a more serious nature. 
 From Barnaby's information the laird now saw exactly how 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 215 
 
 the land lay ; and though he got no hint of the part that 
 his mother had acted in it, yet he rather suspected, for 
 he well knew her sentiments regarding all the young 
 and beautiful part of her own sex. Barnaby gave him no 
 notice that he had ever seen the girl after her dismissal, 
 or that he knew to what part of the world she had retired ; 
 and before they parted he desired him to tell his master 
 to come down and speak with him that night. 
 
 Robin came as appointed ; Lindsey and his mother 
 were sitting by themselves in the parlour when the ser- 
 vant announced him ; he was ordered to join them, and as 
 soon as he came in, Lindsey said, " Come away, Robin, 
 I had a piece of information within these few days of you, 
 that has somewhat distressed me, and I sent for you to 
 make inquiry concerning it. What reasons had you for 
 turning away the poor stranger girl and child from her 
 cot before the term of your agreement expired ?" 
 
 Robin looked to the window, then to the lady, and then 
 to the window again, and finally looked down to the carpet, 
 twirled his bonnet, with both hands, and remained silent. 
 
 Though a strong and speaking look of appeal was turned 
 on the old lady by Robin from time to time, yet she, 
 hearing her son speak in that determined manner, likewise 
 sat still without opening her lips. 
 
 " Why don't you answer me?" continued Lindsey. 
 " I ask you simply what were your reasons for turning 
 her away ? you certainly must be able to state them." 
 
 " Hem ! We war feared, sir we war feared that she 
 was a bad ane." 
 
 " You were afraid she was bad ? Had you no other 
 proofs of her badness farther than your own fears ?" 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I never saw ony ill behaviour about the 
 lassie. But ye ken weel enough that ane wha had for- 
 saken the paths o' virtue and honesty sae early as it ap- 
 pears she had done, wi' sic an enchanting manner, an' 
 weelfaured face into the boot, was rather a dangerous 
 neighbour for sae mony young chiels." 
 
 *' I think what Robin says is very true, and good sense," 
 said the old lady. 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 " You certainly ought to have taken all these things 
 into consideration before you bargained with her at first, 
 Robin," said Lindsey. " I suppose you cannot argue 
 that she is either grown younger or more beautiful since 
 that period ? I rather suspect, Robin, that you have used 
 this young woman extremely ill ; and if you cannot give 
 any better reasons for your severity towards her, I can 
 find out a method of forcing you to make an ample retri- 
 bution." 
 
 " Indeed then, sir, sin' I maun tell the truth, I will tell 
 the truth ; it was my lady, your worthy mother there, 
 that persuaded, and ordered me to turn her away ; for 
 we had observed how great a favourite she was with you, 
 and dreaded the consequences." 
 
 " It is then exactly as I suspected. You two have done 
 me a great injury, and one that will not be easily wiped 
 away. I hope neither of you intended it ; but I would 
 gladly know what trait in my character justified the con- 
 clusion you made ; I think you might both have known 
 my dispositions better than to have so readily believed that 
 I would injure youth and beauty, that had already been 
 unfortunate in the world that I would add to her state 
 of wretchedness, by annihilating for ever that innate prin- 
 ciple of virtue and modesty, inherent in every young fe- 
 male's breast, which never man loved more, or delighted 
 more to view, exerting all its primitive and untainted sway. 
 If you had reflected at all, you could not have believed 
 me capable of it. You have taken the readiest means in 
 your power of injuring my character in the eyes of the 
 world. It must naturally be concluded, that there was a 
 profligate and criminal intercourse subsisting between us, 
 which rendered such an act of cruelty and injustice neces- 
 sary. You have hurt my honour and my feelings, and 
 wronged a defenceless and amiable young woman. It is 
 on my account that she is thus innocently suffering, and 
 I am determined, for my own satisfaction, to see her 
 righted, as far as redress is in my power, though equiva- 
 lent for an injured reputation there is none ; but every 
 vile insinuation on my account shall be fairly dispelled. 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 217 
 
 To make, therefore, an end of all reflections at once, I 
 warn you, Robin, that if she is not found, and restored 
 to her rights in less than a fortnight at farthest, you need 
 not be surprised if you are some day removed on as short 
 notice as you gave to her." 
 
 The old lady and farmer had an inward view of matters 
 in a different light : They perceived that the world would 
 say he had brought her back to keep her there as his mis- 
 tress, but this elegant and inflated harangue they were 
 unable to answer. The young man's conscience was hurt, 
 and they were no casuists. The lady, it is true, uttered 
 some involuntary sounds as he was speaking, but it was 
 not easy to determine whether they were groans or hems 
 of approbation. If one might have judged from her coun- 
 tenance, they were like the former, but the sounds them- 
 selves were certainly modulations of the latter. She was 
 dependant on her son ! Robin was studying a friendly 
 reply, by way of remonstrance, all the time of the speech ; 
 but Robin was a widower, had a good farm, a large fami- 
 ly, and was a tenant at will, and the conclusion of the 
 said speech was a stumbling-block to Robin. 
 
 Pray, gentle reader, did you ever see a country maiden 
 baking pease-meal bannocks ? If you ever did you must 
 have noted, that before she committed them one by one 
 to the gridiron, she always stood straight up, with her 
 head gracefully turned to one side, and moulded them 
 with her two hands to an orb, as nearly resembling the 
 full moon as she could. You must likewise have remarked, 
 that while engaged in this becoming part of her avocation, 
 she was never once looking at her work, but that while her 
 head had that sly cast to the one side, her eyes were ever 
 and arion fixed on the window, noting what was going on 
 without, looking perhaps for her lad coming from the hill, 
 or whistling at the plough. If you have ever seen this, 
 you can easily comprehend the attitude I mean if you 
 have never, it is a great pity ! 
 
 Exactly in such a situation stood our honest farmer, 
 Robin Muckerland, plying his bonnet round with both 
 hands in the same way his head was likewise turned to 
 i. T 
 
218 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 one side, and his eyes immoveably fixed on 1 he window . 
 it was the girl's position to a hair. Let any man take his 
 pen and describe the two attitudes, there is not the slight- 
 est shade of difference to be discerned the one knee 
 of both is even slackened and bent gently forward, the 
 other upright and firm, by its own weight made stead- 
 fast and immoveable. Yet how it comes I do not com- 
 prehend, and should like much to consult my friend, 
 David Wilkie, about it it is plain that the attitudes are 
 precisely the same, yet the girl's is quite delightful 
 Robin's was perfectly pitiable. He had not one word to 
 say, but baked his bonnet and stood thus. 
 
 " This is my determination," continued Lindsey, " and 
 you may pay what attention to it you please." 
 
 " Od, sir, I'm excessively vexed at what has happened, 
 now when ye hae letten me see it in its true light, an' I 
 sal do what I can to find her again, an' mak her what 
 amends I am able. But, od ye see, naebody kens where 
 she's ye see. She may be gane into the wild Highlands, 
 or away to that outlandish country ayont the sea that they 
 ca' Fife, an' how am I to get her ? therefore, if I canna 
 an' dinna get her, I hope you will excuse me, especially 
 as neither the contrivance nor the act was mine." 
 
 " You and my honoured mother settle that betwixt you. 
 I will not abate a tittle of that I have said ; but to encourage 
 your people in the search, or whomsoever you are pleased 
 to employ, I shall give ten guineas to the person who finds 
 her and restores her to her home.'' 
 
 " Aweel, son Lindsey," said the lady, moving her head 
 like the pendulum of a clock, "your mother meant ye 
 good, an' nae ill, in what she has done ; but them that will 
 to Cupar maun to Cupar. For the sake o' Robin and his 
 family, and no for the neighbourhood o' this whilly-wha of 
 a young witch, I shall gi'e the body that finds her half 
 as muckle." 
 
 " And I," said Robin, " shall gi'e the same, which will 
 make up the reward to twenty guineas, an' it is mair than I 
 can weel spare in sic hard times. I never saw better come 
 o' women's schemes, as I say whiles to my titty Meg." 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 219 
 
 The company parted, not on the most social terms ; 
 and that night, before Robin dismissed his servants to their 
 beds, he said, " Lads, my master informs me that I am 
 to be plaguit wi' the law for putting away that lassie Jeany 
 an' her bit brat atween term days. I gie ye a' your liber- 
 ty frae my wark until the end o' neist week, if she be not 
 found afore that time, to search for her ; and whoever 
 finds her, and brings her back to her cottage, shall have a 
 reward o' twenty guineas in his loof." 
 
 A long conversation then, ensued on the best means of 
 recovering her ; but Barnaby did not wait on this, but 
 hasted away to the stable loft, where his chest stood at 
 the head of his bed, dressed himself in his Sunday clothes, 
 and went without delay to the nearest stage where horses 
 were let out for hire, got an old brown hack equipped with 
 a bridle, saddle, and pad, and off he set directly for his 
 father's cottage, where he arrived next morning by the 
 time the sun was up. 
 
 To describe all Barnaby's adventures that night would 
 take a volume by itself, for it was the very country of 
 the ghosts and fairies that he traversed. As his errand 
 was, however, solely for good, he was afraid for none of 
 them meddling with him, save the devil and the water- 
 kelpie ; yet so hardly was he beset with these at times, 
 that he had no other resource but to shut his eyes close, 
 and push on his horse. He by this resolute contrivance 
 got on without interruption, but had been so near 
 his infernal adversaries at times, that twice or thrice he 
 felt a glow on his face as if a breath of lukewarm air had 
 been breathed against it, and a smell exactly resembling 
 (he did not like to say brimstone, but) a coal fire just 
 gaun out I But it is truly wonderful what a man, with a 
 conscience void of offence towards God and towards his 
 neighbour, will go through ! 
 
 When the daylight began to spring up behind the hills 
 of Glenrath, what a blithe and grateful man was Barna- 
 by ! " The bogles will be obliged to thraw aff their black 
 claes now," said he, " an' in less than half an hour the 
 red an ! the green anes too. They'll hae to pit on their 
 
220 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 pollonians o' the pale colour o' the fair daylight, that the 
 e'e o' Christian maunna see them ; or gang away an* sleep 
 in their dew-cups an' foxter-leaves till the gloaming corne 
 again. O, but the things o' this warld are weel con- 
 triveh !" 
 
 Safely did he reach the glen, at the head of which his 
 father's cottage stood, with its little kail-yard in the 
 forkings of the burn ; there was no dog, nor even 
 little noisy pup, came out to give note of his approach, 
 for his father and canine friends had all gone out to the 
 heights at a very early hour to look after the sheep. The 
 morning was calm and lovely ; but there was no sound in 
 the glen save the voice of his mother's grey cock, who 
 was perched on the kail-yard dike, and crowing inces- 
 santly. The echoes were answering him distinctly from 
 the hills ; and as these aerial opponents were the only 
 ones he ever in his life had to contend with, he had learned 
 to value himself extremely on his courage, and was clap- 
 ping his wings, and braving them in a note louder and 
 louder. Barnaby laughed at him, although he himself 
 had been struggling with beings as unreal and visionary 
 during the whole night ; so ready we are to see the follies 
 of others, yet all the while to overlook our own ! 
 
 The smoke was issuing from his mother's chimney in a 
 tall blue spire that reached to the middle of the hill : but 
 when there, it spread itself into a soft hazy cloud, and 
 was resting on the side of the green brae in the most still 
 and moveless position. The rising sun kissed it with his 
 beams, which gave it a light woolly appearance, something 
 like floating down ; it was so like a vision that Barnaby 
 durst scarcely look at it. " My mither's asteer," said he 
 to himself, " I ken by her morning reek ; she'll be fik'mg 
 up an' down the house, an' putting a' things to rights ; 
 an' my billies they'll be lying grumphing and snoring i' 
 their dens, an' Jeany will be lying waking, listening 
 what's gaun on, an' wee George will be sniffing an' sleep- 
 ing sound in her bosom. Now I think, of a' things i' the 
 warld a young mother an' her first son is the maist inter- 
 esting if she has been unfortunate it is ten times muir 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 221 
 
 sae to see how she'll sit an' look at him ! (here 
 Barnaby blew his nose.) I was my mother's first son ; 
 if she had been as bonny, an' as gentle, an' as feele as 
 Jeany, aih ! but I wad hae likit weel !" 
 
 No one being aware of Barnaby's approach, he rode 
 briskly up to the door and rapped, causing at the same 
 time his horse's feet make a terrible clamping on the 
 stones. His mother, who had been sweeping the house, 
 came running out with the heather besom in her hand. 
 " Bless my heart j callant, is that you ? Sic agliff as I hae 
 gotten .w'ye! What's as^eer w'ye ? or whar ir ye gaun 
 sae early i' the morning on that grand cut-luggit beast ?" 
 " I'm turned a gentleman now, mother, that's a'; an' 
 I thought I wad g'ye a ca' as I gaed by for auld lang 
 syne Hope ye're all well?" 
 
 " Deed we're a' no that ill. But, dear Barny, what 
 ir ye after ? Hae ye a' your senses about ye ?" 
 
 " I thank ye, I dinna miss ony o' them that I notice. 
 I'm come for my wife that I left w'ye How is she ?" 
 
 " Your wife ! Weel I wat ye'll never get the like o' 
 her, great muckle hallanshaker-like guff. 
 
 ".Haud your tongue now, mother, ye dinna ken wha 
 I may get ; but I can tell ye o' something that I'm to 
 get. If I take hame that lassie Jeany safe to her house, 
 ony time these ten days, there's naebody kens where I 
 hae her hidden, an' I'm to get twenty guineas in my loof 
 for doing o't." 
 
 " Ay, I tauld ye sae, my dear bairn." 
 ' Ye never tauld me sic a word, mother." 
 ' I hae tauld ye oft, that ae good turn never misses 
 to meet wi' another, an' that the king may come i' the 
 beggar's way." 
 
 " Ramsay's Scots Proverbs tell me that." 
 " It will begin a bit stock to you, my man ; an' I sal 
 say it o' her, gin I sude never see her face again, she's 
 the best creature, ae way an' a' ways, that ever was 
 about a poor body's house. Ah, God bless her ! she's 
 a dear creature! 'Ye'll never hae cause to rue, my man, 
 the pains ye hae ta'en about her." 
 T 2 
 
222 THE WOOL- GATHERER. 
 
 Jane was very happy at meeting with her romantic and 
 kind-hearted Barnaby again, who told her such a turn as 
 affairs had taken in her favour, and all that the laird had 
 said to him about her, and the earnest inquiries he had 
 made ; and likewise how he had put Robin to his shifts. 
 She had lived very happy with these poor honest people, 
 and had no mind to leave them ; indeed, from the day 
 that she entered their house she had not harboured a 
 thought of it ; but now, on account of her furniture, 
 which was of considerable value to her, and more parti- 
 cularly for the sake of Barnaby's reward, she judged it 
 best to accompany him. So after they had all taken a 
 hearty breakfast together at the same board, the old 
 shepherd returned thanks to the Bestower of all good 
 things, and then kissing Jane, he lifted her on the horse 
 behind his son. " Now fare-ye-weel, Jeany my woman," 
 said he ; "I think you will be happy, for I'm sure you 
 deserve to be sae. If ye continue to mind the thing 
 that's good, there is Ane wha will never forsake ye ; I 
 come surety for him. An' if ever adversity should again 
 fa' to your lot, ye shall be as welcome to our bit house 
 as ever, and to your share o' ilka thing that's in it ; an' 
 if I should see you nae mair, I'll never bow my knee 
 before my Maker without remembering you. God bless 
 you, my bonny woman ! Fareweel." 
 
 Jane dropped a tear on her benefactor's hand, for who 
 could stand such unaffected goodness ? Barnaby, who 
 had folded his plaid and held little George on it before 
 him, turned his face towards the other side of the horse, 
 and contracted it into a shape and contortion that is not 
 often seen, every feature being lengthened extremely the 
 cross way ; but after blowing his nose two or three times 
 he recovered the use of his rod, with which he instantly 
 began a thrashing his nag, that he might get out of this 
 flood of tenderness and leave-taking. It is not easy to 
 conceive a more happy man than he was that day, he 
 was so proud of his parents' kindness to Jane, and of 
 the good he thought he was doing to all parties, and, 
 besides, the twenty guineas was a fortune to him. He 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 223 
 
 went on prating to George, who was quite delighted with 
 the ride on such a grand horse ; yet at times he grew 
 thoughtful, and testified his regret for the horse, lest he 
 should be tired with carrying them all. " Geoge vely 
 solly fol pcole holse, Balny ! Geoge no like to be a 
 holse." 
 
 Many were the witch and fairy tales that Barnaby re- 
 lated that day to amuse his fellow travellers. He set 
 down Jane and George safe at their cottage before even- 
 ing, and astonished Robin not a little, who was overjoyed 
 to see his lost gimmer and lamb (as he termed them,) so 
 soon. He paid Barnaby his twenty guineas that night in 
 excellent humour, making some mention, meantime, of 
 an old proverb, " They that hide ken where to seek," 
 and without delay sent information to the mansion-house 
 that Jane was found, and safely arrived at her own house, 
 a piece of news which created no little stir at Earlhall. 
 
 The old lady had entertained strong hopes that Jane 
 would not be found ; or that she would refuse to return 
 after the treatment she had met with, and the suspicions 
 that were raised against her ; in short, she wished her 
 not to return, and she hoped she would not ; but now 
 all her fond hopes were extinguished, and she could see 
 no honourable issue to the affair. It was like to turn 
 out a love intrigue ; a low and shameful business, her 
 son might pretend what he chose. She instantly lost 
 all command of her temper, hurried from one part of the 
 house to another, quarrelled with every one of the maid 
 servants, and gave the two prettiest ones warning to leave 
 their places. i 
 
 Lindsey was likewise a little out of his reason that 
 night, but his feelings were of a very different kind. He 
 loved all the human race ; he loved the little birds that 
 sang upon the trees almost to distraction. The deep 
 blue of the heavens never appeared so serene the woods, 
 the fields, and the flowers, never so delightful ! such a 
 new and exhilarating tone did the return of this beautiful 
 girl (child, I mean) give to his whole vital frame. "What 
 a delightful world this is!" said he to himself j "and 
 
224 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 how happy might all its inhabitants live, if .they would 
 suffer themselves to do so !" He did not traverse the 
 different apartments of the house with the same hasty 
 steps as his mother did, but he took many rapid turns 
 out to the back garden, and in again to the parlour. 
 
 In the middle of one of these distant excursions his 
 ears were assailed by the discordant tones of anger and 
 reproach Proud and haughty contumely on the one 
 side, and the bitter complaints of wronged but humble 
 dependence on the other. 
 
 " This is some one of my mother's unreasonable im- 
 putations," said he to himself; "it is hard that the fairer 
 and more delicate part of my servants, who are in fact 
 my servants, receiving meat and wages from me, and 
 whom I most wish to be happy and comfortable in their 
 circumstances should be thus harassed and rendered mi- 
 serable I will interfere in spite of all obloquy," He 
 went in to the fore-kitchen, "What is the matter? 
 What is the meaning of all this disturbance here ?" 
 
 " Matter, son ! The matter is, that I will not be thus 
 teased and wronged by such a worthless scum of menials 
 as your grieve has buckled on me. I am determined to 
 be rid of them for the present, and to have no more ser- 
 vants of his hiring." 
 
 So saying, she bustled away by him, and out of the 
 kitchen. Sally, one of the maidens that wrought a-field, 
 whose bright complexion and sly looks had roused the 
 lady's resentment, was standing sobbing in a corner. 
 " What is this you have done, Sally, thus to irritate my 
 mother ?" 
 
 " I hae done naething ava that's wrang, sir; but she's 
 never aff my tap ; an' I'm glad I'm now free frae her. 
 Had she tauld me my fault, an' turned me away, I wad 
 never hae regrettit ; but she has ca'd me sic names afore 
 a' these witnesses, that I'll never get mair service i' the 
 country. I see nae right ony body has to guide poor 
 servants this gate.'' 
 
 " Nor I either, Sally ; but say no more about it ; I 
 know you to be a very faithful and conscientious servant, 
 
THE WOOL-GATHEREK. 
 
 225 
 
 for I have often inquired ; remain in your place, and 
 do not go away remember I order it give no offence 
 to my mother that you can avoid be a good girl, as you 
 have heretofore been, and here is a guinea to buy you a 
 gown at next fair." 
 
 " Oh, God bless him for a kind good soul !" said Sally, 
 as he went out, and the benediction was echoed from 
 every corner of the kitchen. 
 
 He rambled more than half-way up the river side to 
 Todburn ; but it was too late to call and see the dear 
 child that night, so he returned -joined his mother at 
 supper ; was more than usually gay and talkative, and at 
 last proposed to invite this fair rambler down to Earlhall 
 to breakfast with them next morning. The lady was 
 almost paralyzed by this proposal, and groaned in spirit ! 
 
 "Certainly, son! certainly! your house is your ain ; 
 invite ony body to it you like ; nane has a better right ! 
 a man may keep ony company he chooses. Ye'll hae 
 nae objections, I fancy, that I keep out o' the party?" 
 
 " Very great objections, mother ; I wish to see this 
 girl, and learn her history ; if I call privately, you will 
 be offended ; is it not better to do this before witnesses ? 
 And I am likewise desirous that you should see her, and 
 be satisfied that she is at all events worthy of being pro- 
 tected from injury. Let us make a rustic party of it, for 
 a little variety we will invite Robin, and his sister Miss 
 Margaret, and any other of that class you choose." 
 
 " O certainly ! invite them ilk ane, son invite a' the 
 riff-raff i' the parish ; your mother has naething to say." 
 
 He was stung with this perversity, as well as with his 
 love for the child on the other hand he did invite them, 
 and the invitation was accepted. Down came Robin 
 Muckerland, tenant of the Todburn, dressed in his blue 
 and gray thread-about coat, with metal buttons, broader 
 than a Queen Ann's half-crown, dark corduroy breeches, 
 and drab-coloured leggums (the best things, by the bye, 
 that ever came in fashion ;) and down came haverel Meg, 
 his sister, alias Miss Peggy, for that day, with her cork- 
 heeled shoon, and long-waisted gown, covered with broad 
 
226 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 stripes, like the hangings of an ancient bed. She had, 
 moreover, a silken bonnet on her head for laying aside in 
 the lobby, under that a smart cap, and under that, again, 
 an abundance of black curly hair, slightly grizzled, and 
 rendered more outrageously bushy that morning by the 
 effects of paper-curls over night. Meg was never seen 
 dressed in such style before, and I wish from my heart 
 that any assembly of our belles had seen her. She viewed 
 the business as a kind of show of cattle before the laird, 
 in the same way as the young ladies long ago were brought 
 in before King Ahasuerus : and she was determined to 
 bear down Jane to the dust, and carry all before her. 
 The very air and swagger with which she walked was quite 
 delightful, while her blue ribbon-belt, half a foot broad, 
 and proportionally long, having been left intentionally 
 loose, was streaming behind her, like the pennon of a 
 ship. "It is rather odd, billy Rob," said she, "that we 
 should thus be invited alang wi' our ain cottar However, 
 the laird's ha' levels a' if she be fit company for him, 
 she maunna be less for us fock maun bow to the bush 
 that they seek beild frae." 
 
 " E'en sae, Meg ; but let us see you behave yoursel 
 like a woman the day, an' no get out wi' ony o' your 
 volleys o' nonsense." 
 
 "Deed, Rob, I'll just speak as I think; there sail nae- 
 thing gyzen i' my thrapple that my noddle pits there. I 
 like nane o' your kind o' fock that dare do naething but 
 chim chim at the same thing ower again, like the gouk in 
 a June day. Meg maun hae out her say, if it sude burst 
 Powbeit on her head." 
 
 As they came down by the washing-green, Jane joined 
 them, dressed in a plain brown frock, and leading little 
 George, who was equipt like an earl's son ; and a prettier 
 boy never paddled at a mother's side. 
 
 The old lady was indisposed that day, and unable to 
 come down to breakfast ; and it was not till after the third 
 visit from her son, who found he was like to be awkward- 
 ly situated with his party, that she was prevailed on to 
 appear. Robin entered first, and made his obeisance; 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 227 
 
 Meg came in with a skip and a courtesy, very like that of 
 the water-owzel when she is sitting on a stone in the 
 middle of the stream. Poor Jane appeared last, leading 
 her boy ; her air was modest and diffident, yet it had 
 nothing of that awkward timidity, inseparable from low 
 life, and a consciousness that one has no right to be there, 
 The lady returned a slight nod to her courtesy, for she 
 had nearly dropt down when she first cast her eyes 
 upon her beauty, and elegance of form and manner. 
 It was the last hope that she had remaining, that this 
 girl would be a vulgar creature, and have no preten- 
 sions to that kind of beauty admired in the higher 
 circles; now that last hope was blasted. Bat that 
 which astonished every one most, was the brilliancy of 
 her eyes, which all her misfortunes had nothing dimmed ; 
 their humid lustre was such, that it was impossible for 
 any other eye to meet their glances without withdrawing 
 abashed. The laird set a seat for her, and spoke to her 
 as easily as he could, but of that he was no great master ; 
 he then lifted little George, kissed him, and, setting him 
 on his knee, fell a talking to him. " And where have 
 you been so long away from me, my dear little fellow ? 
 Tell me where you have been all this while." 
 
 " Fal away, at auld Geoldie's, little Davie's falel, ye 
 ken ; him 'at has 'e fine bonny 'halp wi' a stipe down hele, 
 and anolel down hele. Little Davie vely good till Geoge, 
 an vely queel callant." 
 
 Every one laughed aloud at George's description of the 
 whelp, and his companion little Davie, save Jane, who 
 was afraid he would discover where their retreat had been, 
 rather prematurely. Breakfast was served ; the old lady 
 forced a complaisance and chatted to Meg, who answered 
 her just with what chanced to come uppermost, never once 
 to the point or subject on which she was previously talking ; 
 for all the time the good old dowager was addressing her, 
 she was busied in adjusting some part of her dress look- 
 ing at the shape of her stays casting a glance at the laird, 
 and occasionally at Jane then adjusting a voluptuous 
 curl that half-hid her grey eye. She likewise occasion- 
 
228 THE WOOL-GATHEIIER. 
 
 ally uttered a vacant hem ! when the lady paused ; and, 
 as soon as she ceased, began some observation of her own. 
 Robin was quite in the fidgets. " Dear Meg, woman, 
 that's no what her ladyship was speaking about. That's 
 no to the purpose ava." 
 
 " Speak ye to the purpose then, Rob. Ye think nae- 
 body can speak but yoursel, hummin an' hawin. Let us 
 hear how weel ye'll speak to the purpose. Whisht, sirs ! 
 haud a' your tongues ; my billy Rob's gaun to inak a 
 speech." 
 
 "Humph!" quoth Robin, and gave his head a cast 
 round. 
 
 "Humph!" returned Meg, "what kind of a speech 
 is that ? Is that to the purpose ? If that be to the pur- 
 pose, a sow could hae made that speech as weel as you, 
 and better. The truth is, mem, that our Rob's aye wan- 
 tin to be on his hich horse afore grit folk ; now I says till 
 him, Rob, says I, for you to fa' to afore your betters, and 
 be tryin to speak that vile nicky-nacky language they ca' 
 English, instead o' being on your hich horse then, ye are 
 just like a heron walkin on stilts, an' that's but a daft-like 
 beast. Ye sude mind, says I, Rob, man, says I, that 
 her ladyship's ane o' our ain kind o' fock, an' was bred at 
 the same heck an' manger wi' oursels ; an' although she 
 has lightit on a good tethering, ye're no to think that she's 
 to gi'e hersel airs, an' forget the good auld haemilt blude 
 that rins in her veins." 
 
 The lady's cheek was burning with indignation, for, of 
 all topics, Meg was fallen on the most unlucky ; nothing 
 hurt her feelings half so much as hints of her low extrac- 
 tion. Lindsey, though vexed, could not repress a laugh 
 at the proud offence on the one side, and the untameable 
 vulgarity on the other. Meg discerned nothing wrong, 
 and, if she had, would not have regarded it. She went 
 on. " Ah, Meg, woman ! quo' he, ye ken little thing 
 about it, quo' he ; when the sole of a shoe's turned upper- 
 most, it maks aye but an unbowsome overleather ; if ye 
 corn an auld glide-aver weel, she'll soon turn about her 
 heels, and fling i' your face." 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 229 
 
 Robin's whole visage changed ; his eyes were set on 
 Meg, but his brows were screwed down, and his cheeks 
 pursed up in such a manner, that those were scarcely 
 discernible ; his mouth had meanwhile assumed the form 
 and likeness of one of the long S's on the belly of a 
 fiddle. Meg still went on. " Dear Rob, says I, man, 
 says I, that disna apply to her ladyship ava, for every 
 thing that she does, an' every thing that she says, shows 
 her to be a douse namely body ; the very way that she 
 rins bizzin through the house, an' fliting on the servants, 
 proves that she maks nae pretensions to high gentility." 
 
 Lindsey, who now dreaded some explosion of rage 
 subversive of all decorum, began and rallied Meg, com- 
 mended her flow of spirits and fresh looks, and said she 
 was very much of a lady herself. 
 
 "I wat, laird," said she, " I think aye if a body be- 
 haves wi' ease, an' without ony stiffness an' precision, 
 that body never behaves ill ; but, to be sure, you grand 
 fock caij say an' do a hantle o' things that winna be ta'en 
 off our hands. For my part, when the great fike rase 
 about you an' Jeany there, I says says I" 
 
 This was a threatening preface. Lindsey durst not 
 stand the sequel. " I beg your pardon for the present, 
 Miss Peggy," said he ; "we shall attend to your obser- 
 vations on this topic after we have prepared the way for 
 it somewhat. I was, and still am convinced, that this 
 young woman received very harsh and unmerited treat- 
 ment from our two families. I am desirous of making 
 her some reparation, and to patronise her, as well as this 
 boy, if I find her in any degree deserving of it. This 
 protection shall, moreover, be extended to her in a man- 
 ner that neither suspicion nor blame shall attach to it ; 
 and, as we are all implicated in the wrong, I have select- 
 ed you as judges in this matter. It is impossible/' con- 
 tinued he, addressing himself to Jane, "to be in your 
 company half an hour, and not discern that your edu- 
 cation has been much above the sphere of life which you 
 now occupy ; but I trust you will find us all disposed lo 
 regard you with the eye of friendship, if you will be so 
 
230 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 good as relate to us the incidents of your life which have 
 contributed to your coming among us." 
 
 " The events of my life, sir," said she, "have been, 
 like the patriarch's days, few and evil, and my intention 
 was, never to have divulged them in this district not 
 on my own- account, but for the sake of their names that 
 are connected with my history, and are now no more. 
 Nevertheless, since you have taken such an interest in 
 my fortunes, it would both be ungrateful and imprudent 
 to decline giving you that satisfaction. Excuse me for 
 the present in withholding my family name, and I will 
 relate to you the incidents of my short life in a very few 
 words. 
 
 " My father was an eminent merchant. Whether 
 ever he was a rich one or not I cannot tell, but he 
 certainly was looked upon as such, for his credit and 
 dealings were very extensive. My mother died twelve 
 years ago, leaving my father with no more children than 
 another daughter and myself. I received my education 
 in Edinburgh along with my sister, who was two years 
 older than I. She began to manage my father's house- 
 hold aifairs at thirteen years of age, and I went to reside 
 with an aunt in East-Lothian, who had been married to 
 a farmer, but was now a widow, and occupied a farm 
 herself. 
 
 " Whether it originated in his not finding any amuse- 
 ment at home, or in consciousness of his affairs getting 
 into confusion, I know not, but our father about this 
 time fell by degrees from attending to his business in a 
 great measure, and sunk into despondency. My sister's 
 letters to me were full of regret ; my aunt being in a 
 declining state of health I could not leave her for some 
 months. At last she died, leaving me a legacy of five 
 hundred pounds, when I hastened home, and did all in 
 my power to assist my sister in comforting our father, 
 but he did not long survive, and dying insolvent, we not 
 only lost our protector, but had nothing to depend on 
 save my little legacy and our own industry and exer- 
 tions. We retired to a small lodging ; none of our 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 231 
 
 friends thought proper to follow us to our retreat ; and 
 now, bereaved as we were of our natural protector, we 
 could not help perceiving that we were a friendless and 
 helpless pair. My sister never recovered her spirits ; a 
 certain dejection and. absence of mind from this time forth 
 began to prey upon her, and it was with real sorrow 
 and concern that I perceived it daily gaining ground, 
 and becoming more and more strongly marked. I tried 
 always to console her as much as I could for our loss, 
 and often, to cheer her, assumed a gaiety that was foreign 
 to my heart ; but we being quite solitary, her melancholy 
 always returned upon her with double weight. About 
 this time I first saw a young officer with my sister, who 
 introduced him carelessly to me as the captain. She 
 went out with him, and when she returned I asked who 
 he was. " Bless me, Jane," said she, do you not know 
 the Captain ?" I was angry at the flippancy of her man- 
 ner, but she gave me no further satisfaction." 
 
 At the mention of this officer Lindsey grew restless 
 and impatient, changing his positimi on the seat every 
 moment. 
 
 " Things went on in this manner," continued Jane, 
 " for some time longer, and still my sister grew more 
 heartless and dejected. Her colour grew pale, and her 
 eye heavy, and I could not help feeling seriously alarmed 
 on her account. 
 
 " For nine or ten days she went out by herself for an 
 hour or so every day, without informing me where she 
 had been. But one morning, when I arose my sister 
 was gone. I waited until noon before I took any break- 
 fast ; but nothing of my sister appearing, I became dis- 
 tracted with dreadful apprehensions. I went about to 
 every place where I thought there was the least chance 
 of hearing any news of her, yet durst I not ask for her 
 openly at any one for fear of the answer I might receive ; 
 for, on considering the late dejected state of her mind, 
 I expected nothing else than *D hear that she had put an 
 end to her existence. My search was fruitless ; night 
 came, and still no word of rny sister ; I passed it without 
 
232 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 sleep ; but, alas ! the next night, and many others, came 
 and passed over without bringing a trace of her steps, or 
 throwing a gleam of light on her fate. I was now obliged 
 to set on foot a strict and extensive search, and even to 
 have her advertised ; yet still all my exertions proved of 
 no avail. 
 
 "During this long and dreadful pause of uncertainty 
 I thought there could not be conceived a human being 
 more thoroughly wretched than I was. Only seventeen 
 years of age ; the last of all my father's house ; left in a 
 lodging by myself ; all my neighbours utter strangers to 
 me, and not a friend on earth to whom I could unbosom 
 my griefs ; wretched I was, and deemed it impossible to 
 be more so ; but I had over-rated my griefs, and was 
 punished for my despondency. 
 
 " When some months had passed away, one spring 
 morning, I remember it well ! after a gentle rap at the 
 door, the maid entered, and said, a man wanted to see 
 me. ' A man !' said I ; * What man wishes to speak 
 to me?' 
 
 " ' I don't know, mem, he is like a countryman.' 
 
 ' He was shown in ; a pale man, of a dark complexion, 
 and diminutive size. I was certain I had never seen him 
 before, for his features were singularly marked. He asked 
 my name, and seemed at a loss to deliver his message, and 
 there was something in his air and manner that greatly 
 alarmed me. ' So you said your name is so so ? said he 
 again. 
 
 " ' I did ; pray, tell me what is your business with me?' 
 
 " ' There is a lady at our house, who I suppose wishes 
 to speak with you.' 
 
 " ' What lady wishes to see me ? Where is your 
 house ?' 
 
 " He named some place on the London road towards 
 Berwick. 
 
 " * What lady can possibly be there,' said I, 'that 
 knows any thing of me ?' 
 
 " He looked at me again ' Pray, mem, have you a 
 sister ? Or had you ever any that you know of ?' 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 233 
 
 " This query paralyzed me. I sunk down on the sofa ; 
 but as soon as I could speak, I asked how long the lady 
 had been with him ? 
 
 " ' Only since Friday evening last,' said he. ' She 
 was taken ill at the inn on her way to Edinburgh, from 
 whence she was conveyed to my house, for the sake of 
 better and more quiet accommodation ; but she has been 
 very ill, very ill, indeed. There is now hope that she 
 will recover, but she is still very ill. I hope you are the 
 lady she named when all was given over; at all events, 
 you must go and see.' 
 
 " Scarcely knowing what I did, I desired the man to 
 call a post-chaise. We reached the place before even. 
 I entered her apartment, breathless and impatient ; but 
 how shall I relate to you the state in which I found her ! 
 My heart bleeds to this day, when remembrance presents 
 me with the woful spectacle ! She was lying speechless, 
 unable to move a hand or lift an eye, and posting on, with 
 rapid advances, to eternity, having some days before given 
 birth to this dear child on my knee." 
 
 At this moment the eyes of all the circle were fixed 
 on Jane, expressing strongly a mixture of love, pity, and 
 admiration. Lindsey could contain himself no longer. 
 He started to his feet stretched his arms toward her, 
 and, after gasping a little for breath, " Wh wh what!" 
 said he, sighing, " are you not then the mother of little 
 George ?" 
 
 " A poor substitute only for a better, sir ; but the only 
 parent he has ever known, or is likely to know." 
 
 " And you have voluntarily suffered all these privations, 
 trouble, and shame, for the sake of a poor little orphan, 
 who, it seems, is no nearer akin to you than a nephew ? 
 If ever the virtuous principles and qualities of a female 
 mind deserved admiration But proceed. I am much 
 to blame for interrupting you." 
 
 " I never for another moment departed from my sister's 
 
 bed-side until she breathed her last, which she did in 
 
 about thirty hours after my arrival. During that time, 
 
 there was only once that she seemed to recollect or take 
 
 u 2 
 
234 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 the slightest notice of me, which was a little before her 
 final exit ; but then she gave me such a look ! So full 
 of kindness and sorrow, that language could not have ex- 
 pressed her feelings half so forcibly. It was a farewell 
 look, which is engraven on the tablets of my mind, never to 
 be obliterated while that holds intercourse with humanity. 
 
 "The shock which my feelings received by the death 
 of the only friend of my heart, with the mysterious cir- 
 cumstances which accompanied it, deprived me for some 
 time of the powers of recollection. My dreams by night, 
 and my reflections during the day, were all so much blent 
 and intermingled, and so wholly of the same tendency, that 
 they became all as a dream together ; so that I could not, 
 on a retrospect, discover in the least, nor ever can to this 
 day, what part of my impressions were real, or what were 
 mere phantasy, so strongly were the etchings of fancy im- 
 pressed on my distempered mind. If the man I mention- 
 ed before, who owned the house, had not looked after the 
 necessary preparations for the funeral, I know not how 
 or when it would have been set about by any orders of 
 mine. They soon enticed me away from the body, which 
 they suffered me to visit but seldom, and, it seems, I 
 was perfectly passive. That such a thing as my sister's 
 funeral was approaching, occurred but rarely to my mind, 
 and then, it in a manner surprised me as a piece of unex- 
 pected intelligence was wont to do, and it as suddenly 
 slipped away, leaving my imagination again to wander 
 in a maze of inextricable confusion. 
 
 " The first thing that brought me to myself was along 
 fit of incessant weeping, in which I shed abundance of 
 tears. I then manifested an ardent desire to see the child, 
 which I recollect perfectly well. I considered him as the 
 only remembrance left to me of a respectable and well- 
 descended family, and of the dearest friend ever I re- 
 membered upon earth. When I first saw him, he was 
 lying on an old woman's knee ; and when I stooped to 
 look at him, he, with a start of his whole frame, fixed his 
 young unstable eyes on me, and stretched out his little 
 spread hands toward me, in which position he remained 
 
THE WOOL-GATHEKER. 235 
 
 steadily for a considerable time. This was so marked 
 and uncommon, that all the standers-by took notice of it ; 
 and the woman who held him said, ' See ! saw ye ever 
 the like o' that ? I never saw the like o' that a' my life ! 
 It is surely impossible he can ken ye ?' 
 
 " It was, without doubt, an involuntary motion of the 
 babe, but I could not help viewing it as a movement effec- 
 ted by the Great Spirit of universal nature. I thought 
 I saw the child beseeching me to protect his helpless inno- 
 cence, and not to abandon him to an injurious world, in 
 which he had not another friend remaining, until he could 
 think and act for himself. I adopted him that moment 
 in my heart as my son I took him into my arms as a 
 part of myself ! That simple motion of my dear child 
 fixed my resolution with respect to him at once, and that 
 resolution never has been altered nor injured in the 
 smallest part. 
 
 "I hired a nurse for him ; and, it being term time, 
 gave up my house, and sold all my furniture, save the little 
 that I have still, and retired to a cottage at Slateford, not 
 far from Edinburgh. Here I lived frugally with the nurse 
 and child ; and became so fond of him, that no previous 
 period of my life, from the days of childhood, was ever so 
 happy ; indeed, my happiness was centred solely in him, 
 and if he was well, all other earthly concerns vanished. 
 I found, however, that after paying the rent of the house, 
 the expenses of the two funerals, and the nurse's wages, 
 that my little stock was reduced nearly one-third; and 
 fearing that it would in a little while be wholly exhausted, 
 I thought the sooner I reconciled myself to hardships the 
 better ; so leaving the remainder of my money in the 
 bank as a fund in case of sickness or great necessity, I 
 came and took this small cottage and garden from your 
 farmer. I had no ambition but that of bringing up the 
 child, and educating him, independent of charitable assis- 
 tance ! and I cannot describe to you how happy I felt at 
 the prospect, that the interest of my remaining property, 
 with the small earnings of my own industry, was likely 
 to prove more than an equivalent to my yearly expenses- 
 
236 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 1 have from the very first acknowledged little George as 
 my own son. I longed for a retirement, where I should 
 never be recognised by any former acquaintance. In such 
 a place I thought my story might gain credit ; nor could 
 I think in any degree to stain the name of my dear de- 
 parted sister by any surmises or reflections that might in 
 future attach to it by telling the story as it was. How I 
 should have felt had he really been my son I cannot judge ; 
 but instead of feeling any degradation at being supposed 
 his mother, so wholly is my existence bound up in him, 
 that I could not bear the contrary to be supposed; 
 
 " Who his father is, remains a profound, and to me, 
 unaccountable mystery, I never had the slightest sus- 
 picion of the rectitude of her behaviour, and cannot un- 
 derstand to this day how she could possibly carry on an 
 amour without suffering me to perceive any signs of it. 
 She had spoke but little to the people with whom I found 
 her ; but their impressions were, that she was not marri- 
 ed, and I durst not inquire farther ; for, rather than have 
 discovered his father to be unworthy, I chose to re- 
 main in utter ignorance concerning it, and I could not 
 think favourably of one who had deserted her in such 
 circumstances. There was no man whom I had ever seen 
 that I could in the least suspect, if it was not the young 
 officer that I formerly mentioned, and he was the least 
 likely to be guilty of such an act of any man I ever saw." 
 
 Here Lindsey again sprang to his feet. " Good 
 God !" said he, " there is something occurs to my mind 
 -the most extraordinary circumstance if it be really 
 so. You wished to be excused from giving your sur- 
 name, but there is a strange coincidence in your concerns 
 with my own, which renders it absolutely necessary that 
 I should be informed of this." 
 
 Jane hesitated, and said she could not think of divulg- 
 ing that so as to make it public, but that she would trust 
 his honour, and tell it him in his ear. She then whis- 
 pered the name M' y. 
 
 " What !" said he aloud, forgetting the injunction of 
 secrecy, " of the late firm M' y, and Reynolds?" 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 237 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 The positions into which he now threw himself, and 
 the extravagant exclamations that he uttered, cannot here 
 be all described. The other three personages in the 
 room all supposed that he was gone out of his reason. 
 After repeating, till quite out of breath, " It is she ! it is 
 she ! it is the same ! it is the same !" and, pressing both 
 her hands in his, he exclaimed, " Eternal Providence ! 
 how wonderful are thy ways, and how visible is thy 
 superintendence of human affairs, even in the common 
 vicissitudes of life ! but never was it so visible as in this ! 
 My dear child," continued he, taking little George in 
 his arms, who looked at him with suspicion and wonder, 
 " by how many fatal and untoward events, all seemingly 
 casual, art thou at last, without the aid of human inter- 
 ference, thrown into the arms of thy natural guardian ! 
 and how firmly was my heart knit to thee from the very 
 first moment I saw thee ! But thou art my own son, 
 and shalt no more leave me ; nor shall your beautiful 
 guardian either, if she will accept of a heart that her 
 virtues have captivated. This house shall henceforth be 
 a home to you both, and all my friends shall be friends 
 to you, for you are my own." 
 
 Here the old lady sprang forward, and laying hold of 
 her son by the shoulder, endeavoured to pull him away. 
 " Consider what you are saying, Lindsey, and what you 
 are bringing on yourself, and your name, and your 
 family. You are raving mad that child can no more 
 be yours than it is mine. Will you explain yourself, or 
 are we to believe that you have indeed lost your reason ? 
 I say, where is the consistency in supposing that child 
 can be yours?" 
 
 " It is impossible," said Robin. 
 
 " I say it's nae sic a thing as unpossible, Rob," quoth 
 Meg. " Haud your tongue, ye ken haething about it 
 it's just as possible that it may be his as another's I sal 
 warrant whaever be aught it, it's no corned there by sym- 
 pathy ! Od, if thety war to come by sympathy" 
 
 Here Meg was interrupted by Lindsey, who waved 
 
2-38 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 his hand for silence, a circumstance that has sorely 
 grieved the relater of this tale, for of all things he would 
 have liked to have had Meg's ideas, at full length, of chil- 
 dren being produced by sympathy. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Lindsey, " I must have 
 appeared extravagant in my rapturous enthusiasm, having 
 forgot but that you knew all the circumstances as well as 
 myself. The whole matter is, however, very soon, and 
 very easily explained." 
 
 He then left the room, and all the company gazing 
 upon one another. Jane scarcely blushed on receiving 
 the vehement proffer from Lindsey, for his rhapsody had 
 thrown her into a pleasing and tender delirium of amaze- 
 ment, which kept every other feeling in suspense. 
 
 In a few seconds he returned, bringing an open letter 
 in his hand. "Here is the last letter," said he, "ever 
 I received from my brave and only brother ; a short ex- 
 tract from which will serve fully to clear up the whole of 
 this very curious business." 
 
 He then read as follows : " Thus, you see, that for 
 the last fortnight the hardships and perils we have encoun- 
 tered have been many and grievous ; but TO-MORROW 
 will be decisive one way or another. I have a strong 
 prepossession that I will not survive the battle ; yea, so 
 deeply is the idea impressed on my mind, that with me it 
 amounts to an absolute certainty ; therefore, I must con- 
 fide a secret with you which none in the world know, or in 
 the least think of, save another and myself. I was privately 
 married before I left Scotland, to a young lady, lovely in 
 her person, and amiable in her manners, but without any 
 fortune. We resolved, for reasons that must be obvious 
 to you, to keep our marriage secret, until I entered to 
 the full possession of my estate, and if possible till my re- 
 turn ; but now, (don't laugh at me, my dear brother,) 
 being convinced that I shall never return, I entreat you, 
 as a last request, to find her out and afford her protection. 
 It is probable, that by this time she may stand in need 
 
 of it. Her name is Amelia M' y, daughter to the 
 
 late merchant of that name of the firm M' v and 
 
THE WOOL-GATHERER. 239 
 
 Reynolds. She left her home with me in private, at my 
 earnest request, though weeping with anguish at leaving 
 a younger sister, a little angel of mercy, whom, like the 
 other, you will find every way worthy of your friendship 
 and protection. The last letter that I had from her was 
 dated from London, the 7th of April, on which day she 
 embarked in the packet for Leith, on her way to join her 
 sister, in whose house, near Bristo-Port, you will proba- 
 bly find her. Farewell, dear brother. Comfort our 
 mother ; and O, for my sake, cherish and support my 
 dear wife ! We have an awful prospect before us, but 
 we are a handful of brave determined friends, resolved to 
 conquer or die together." 
 
 The old lady now snatched little George up in her 
 arms, pressed him to her bosom, and shed abundance of 
 tears over him. >" He is indeed my grandson ! he is ! 
 he is !" cried she. *' My own dear George's son, and he 
 shall henceforth be cherished as my own.'' 
 
 " And he shall be mine too, mother," added Lindsey; 
 " and heir of all the land which so rightly belongs to him. 
 And she, who has so disinterestedly adopted and brought 
 up the heir of Earlhall, shall still be his mother, if she will 
 accept of a heart that renders her virtues every homage, 
 and beats in unison with her own to every tone of pity 
 and benevolence." 
 
 Jane now blushed deeply, for the generous proposal 
 was just made while the tears of joy were yet trickling 
 over her cheeks on account of the pleasing intelligence she 
 had received of the honour of her regretted sister, and 
 the rank of her child. She could not answer a word 
 she looked stedfastly at the carpet, through tears, as if 
 examining how it was wrought then at a little pearl ring 
 she wore on her finger, and finally fell to adjusting some 
 of little George's clothes. They were all silent It was 
 a quaker meeting, and might have continued so much 
 longer, had not the spirit fortunately moved Meg. 
 
 " By my certy, laird ! but ye hae made her a good of- 
 fer ! an' yet she'll pretend to tarrow at takin't ! But ye're 
 sure o' her, tak my word for it Ye dinna ken women. 
 
240 THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
 Bless ye ! the young hizzies mak aye the greatest fike 
 about things that they wish maist to hae. I ken by my- 
 sel ; when Andrew Pistolfoot used to come stamplin in 
 to court me i' the dark, I wad hae cried (whispering), 
 * Get away wi' ye ! ye bowled-like shurf ! whar are ye 
 comin pechin an' fuffin to me ?' Bless your heart ! gin 
 Andrew had run away when I bade him, I wad hae run 
 after him, an' grippit him by the coat-tails, an' brought 
 him back. Little wist I this morning, an' little wist mae 
 than I, that things war to turn out this way, an' that Jeany 
 was to be our young lady \ She was little like it that night 
 she gaed away greetin wi' the callant on her back ! Dear 
 Rob, man, quo' I to my billy, what had you and my lady to 
 do wi' them ? Because her day and yours are ower, do ye 
 think they'll no be courting as lang as the warld stands ; 
 an' the less that's said about it the better I said sae !" 
 
 " And you said truly, Meg," rejoined Lindsey. 
 " Now, pray, Miss Jane, tell me what you think of my 
 proposal T 
 
 " Indeed, sir," answered she, " you overpower me. I 
 am every way unworthy of the honour you propose for 
 my acceptance ; but as I cannot part with my dear little 
 George, with your leave I will stay with my lady and take 
 care of him." 
 
 " Well, I consent that you shall stay with my mother 
 as her companion. A longer acquaintance will confirm 
 that affection, which a concurrence of events has tended 
 so strongly to excite." 
 
 It was not many months until this amiable pair were 
 united in the bonds of matrimony, and they are still living, 
 esteemed of all their acquaintances. Barnaby is the laird's 
 own shepherd, and overseer of all his rural affairs, and he 
 does not fail at times to remind his gentle mistress of his 
 dream about the eagle and the corbie. 
 
 END OF THE WOOL-GATHERER. 
 
THE 
 
 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 ALLAN GORDON. 
 
 HUMBLY AND MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO 
 
 SIR DAVID BREWSTER. 
 
 IT is well known that the ship, Briel of Amsterdam, 
 took up a Scotsman from the ice of the Polar sea, in the 
 year 1764, and set him ashore at Aberdeen, from whence 
 he had sailed seven years before, in the whaler ship, 
 Anne Forbes. His name was Allan Gordon, and his 
 narrative, as taken down by John Duff, schoolmaster at 
 Cabrach, is now in my possession. 
 
 I, Allan Gordon, was the son of Adam Gordon, a hind, 
 or farm servant on the banks of the Bogie, and I was 
 born in a small cottage three miles above Huntly. My 
 father learned me to read, but never to write, and when 
 I was eleven years of age, he bound me apprentice to a 
 tailor in Huntly, a little crooked wretch, who, whenever 
 any body offended him, always wreaked out his ill nature 
 on me. I bore with him long, not daring to break my 
 apprenticeship for fear of the tine that would fall on my 
 poor father, although many a thrashed skin I got, and 
 every time my knuckles itched to be at this tailor's ugly 
 face. I was always obliged to sir and master him, and 
 if by chance I called him by any other name, I got the 
 length of the needle in my flesh instantly. 
 
 This was not long to be borne by a lad of any spirit. 
 One time we were sewing on a board together at the 
 manse of Auchindoir, and the minister and his wife were 
 
242 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 sitting by the fire in the same apartment. It was Satur- 
 day evening, and my master was anxious to have the job 
 done that night, and kept urging me to ply and make 
 long stitches. This last injunction he durst not give 
 openly, but there was an understood term which convey- 
 ed his meaning. This was, "sit yond, boy, sit yond." 
 This he kept repeating and repeating that evening, and 
 at every hint, gave me a pradd with his needle, until in 
 a fit of impatience 1 returned, " the deil's i' the bodie, 
 for I can sit nae farther yond unless I baiss." He gave 
 me such a look ! I regarded it not, but laughed, and 
 joked, and crooned, " Cauld kail in Aberdeen, an' sowins 
 in Strathbogie," and, " The Tailor fell o'er the bed, 
 needles an' a'. " But the minister said, " Aha, William, 
 so the secret is out regarding the order to your lad 
 always to sit yond, therefore, give up, and go your ways 
 home, and come back on Monday morning, for I will not 
 have my clothes or my boy's clothes spoiled by your long 
 stitches." " But tell me this, sir," said my master, who 
 wanted to put the matter off as a joke, "whether do you 
 think long stitches or short sermons are the worst." 
 
 " William, I want none of your profane and homely 
 jests," said the parson, "therefore keep them to yourself, 
 and give up my work ; I can have another tradesman to 
 finish it." 
 
 "Yes you can, sir," said my master, "and so can I go 
 and hear another minister. I have the advantage of you 
 there, for you cannot have a tradesman like me in Aber- 
 deenshire, whereas I can have a far better minister. For 
 I maintain, that in short sermons often repeated, there is 
 greater blame than in long stitches on new ground." 
 
 Thus parted the parson of Auchindoir and my master 
 in high chagrin, the consequences of which I was doom- 
 ed to abide. No sooner were we beyond the glebe lands, 
 than he said with ill feigned civility, " Well, you have 
 behaved yourself like a sensible young man and a gentle* 
 man to-night." I was going to say, that I had spoken 
 rashly and unadvisedly, and was sorry for it, but that it 
 was the severe prick with the needle that caused it. 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 243 
 
 Before I got my answer arranged, he struck me such a 
 blow above the right eye, that made the blood to stream. 
 I chanced to have the lapboard carrying in my right 
 hand, a substantial plane-tree deal more than two feet long, 
 with which I gave him such a knap over the head that I 
 made his skull ring again, and his eyes to stand in back 
 water. " How dare you for your saul, sirrah, lift your 
 hand against your master," said he. 
 
 " I'll not be struck like a dog in that manner by the 
 king, or the duke of Gordon,". said I, "and far less by 
 a bowled tailor.'* 
 
 This answer put the creature perfectly mad, for he 
 valued himself greatly on his personal appearance, and he 
 flew on me like a tiger. My spirit of resistance was 
 fairly up. I returned blow for blow, and there as des- 
 perate a battle ensued as ever was fought. In a few 
 minutes he began to quail, and, though his lip quivered 
 with rage, he was rather frightened, and wanted to call a 
 parley. " Come, come, this will never do," said he, 
 "down on your knees, and beg my pardon." 
 
 in be d d if I will," said I. 
 
 " You, sirrah, you'll be d d if you will ! Do you 
 
 say so to me," said he, in a loud majestic tone, for two 
 masons appeared coming toward us. "Then, sir, know 
 that your life is in my hand, and I will chastise you 
 until you be no more." He threw off his coat and waist- 
 coat, and fell to me like a day's work. I held down my 
 head, and took a fempest of blows on my shoulders and 
 neck. I then ran with my head full drive on the pit of 
 his stomach, which made him stagger and fall backward. 
 I gave him just one fundamental kick, and then turned 
 and laughed aloud. He flew after me in desperate fury, 
 striking both with feet and hands, fighting in glorious 
 style, for the two masons were now close at hand. I 
 could fight none, save as a bullock or ram, but having 
 frequently seen these fight desperately, I followed their 
 example instinctively, and ran always against my dumpy 
 mis-shapen master with my head fu}l drive. He tore out 
 my hair, and cursed and swore most manfully, but I 
 
244 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 regarded not these, giving him always the other dunch, 
 and whenever I hit him fairly, whether on the face or 
 breast, I knocked him down. The two mason lads rolled 
 on the green with laughter, for, to make the thing the 
 more ludicrous, whenever I knocked him down with my 
 head, I turned round and flung at him with my heels like 
 a horse, thus in my warfare imitating the beasts only. 
 
 I soon mauled him so, that he could not rise, but 
 there he lay, threatening future vengeance, and cursing 
 me most emphatically. He threw first the goose, and 
 then the lapboard at my head, which I eschewe^l and 
 then ran up and flung at him like an incensed or vicious 
 horse, giving him some good hard kicks, and then went 
 off and left him. Instead of going home, I went straight 
 to Aberdeen, where I could have procured work as a 
 journeyman, but durst not remain for my late incensed 
 master ; so I went on board a Hull coasting vessel, and 
 continued in her five years as a cabin boy and sailor, and 
 by that time, had become quite attached to the nautical 
 life. I went one voyage to New York, and another to 
 Lisbon, but the description of these voyages would only 
 delay the narrative. I now sit down to relate, only I 
 thought it behooved me to tell how a man of Bogieside 
 chanced to become a sailor. 
 
 In 1757, I entered on board the Anne Forbes for the 
 Greenland whale fishery. Our captain's name was John 
 Hughes, an Englishman, a drunken, rash, headlong fool, 
 and one with whom it was impossible for any seaman to 
 have the least comfort. As there had been some excel- 
 lent fish taken the preceding summer in the Spitzbergen 
 seas, we had instructions to proceed thither. According- 
 ly, we parted with the rest of the whalers off Cape Fare- 
 well, and stretched away to the north-east. We had 
 fine weather and an open sea, save that there was a 
 girdle of ice of from ten to thirty miles broad, that belted 
 the whole coast of east Greenland, the mountains of 
 which country were frequently in our view. We sailed 
 between that and Iceland, and about the seventieth 
 degree, came frequently in view of some tremendous 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 245 
 
 fish, all of which appeared to be journeying rapidly north- 
 ward. We captured one, and continued our route straight 
 on for a fortnight, although our mate, who was an old 
 experienced hand, represented to our captain, again and 
 again, the danger of penetrating so far into the polar seas ; 
 but he was an absurd and obstinate mule, and only 
 laughed the good old man to scorn, pretending that he 
 was making some curious observations on the dipping of 
 the needle, whereas he never dipped the needle at all, it 
 just stood where it was, only it gave over pointing. He 
 thenfcold us we were at the pole, and afterwards that we 
 had sailed round it. He gave us a treat, and plenty to 
 drink on this joyful occasion; but we only laughed in 
 our sleeves at him, for in fact there was no pole nor 
 pillar of any kind to be seen ; neither was there any axle- 
 tree or groove, which there behooved to have been, had we 
 been at the pole of the world. There was nothing but 
 a calm open sea, and the sun beating on us all the four- 
 and-twenty hours. There were plenty of fish. We 
 loaded our vessel; but yet the absurd monster would 
 not leave the ground, but continued exulting and filling 
 himself drunk on the merits of his grand discovery, and 
 pretended that he could sail to China as soon as to Spain. 
 For my part I believed then, and believe still, that it was 
 all nonsense, though there was certainly something pecu- 
 liar in our situation, for the needle had no power, not a 
 grain. It stood where we put it, or kept whirling and 
 wheeling as if it had been dancing a Highland reel. 
 
 For two days the mate kept pointing out to the captain 
 some brilliant appearances at a great distance, which he 
 said he suspected were immense floes or fields of ice, and 
 if the wind should chance to rise in that direction, we 
 should to a certainty be enclosed. But captain Hughes 
 answered him with the greatest contempt thus : " Why, 
 you old grovelling ass, you have not half the science of 
 a walrus, nor half the ambition of a lobster. You do 
 not perceive, and not perceiving you cannot estimate, the 
 value of the discovery I have made ; a discovery which 
 will hand down my name to all generations, and not only 
 
240 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 my name, but the very name of the vessel, and every 
 one on board of her, will go down to posterity. There- 
 fore, tell not me of your floes and your fields, your 
 rainbow colours and cowardly surmises. Am I not 
 resting on the pole of the world, and can run from hence 
 into any of its divisions I choose. I am like a man on 
 the top of an hill, who, if the storm approaches on the 
 one side, can take shelter on the other." 
 
 " Why it may, it may a' be true that ye say, captain," 
 said old Abram Johnston, the mate ; "I may hae little 
 science an' less ambition. But I hae that muckle sdfence 
 as to perceive that you are detaining us hi a very critical 
 and perilous situation, for no earthly purpose that I can 
 see ; and my ambition is all to save the ship and cargo 
 of my employers." 
 
 " Say, rather, to save your own mean and despicable 
 life," retorted the captain. " I am answerable to my 
 employers for the ship and cargo, not you. And think 
 you not the value of the discovery I have made to be of 
 more value than any ship or cargo that ever sailed the 
 ocean ?" 
 
 "Perhaps it may, captain," said he, "that point I 
 shall not dispute with you. But if we lose the ship, we 
 lose ourselves and the grand discovery into the bargain." 
 
 " There you said true, old foggie !" said the captain, 
 "and it is the first word of sense you have spoken. 
 Come and let us have one bottle together on the head 
 of it. Who knows what you may yet be. You can 
 box the compass. Now tell me which is north and 
 which south?" 
 
 " What o'clock is it ?" said he. 
 
 " Aha, catch me there, old foggie." 
 
 " Then in fact, captain, I do not know, for this place 
 is like the New Jerusalem, there is no night here, and 
 no star to be seen, and glad would I be to be out of it." 
 
 " Better and better, old Abram. Well, then, we 
 shall sail southward with the first breeze to give you 
 peace of conscience, and I'll take you half a dozen we be 
 the first of the whalers on the coast of Scotland." 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 247 
 
 The captain filled himself drunk as usual ; and in a 
 few hours afterwards, from some unaccountable current, 
 the mate perceived the vessel to be drifting with great 
 rapidity : and not knowing in what direction, he called 
 up the captain. I shall never forget how blue and con- 
 founded like he looked that morning ; but he instantly 
 commanded all sails to be set ; and after he had taken 
 the sun's altitude, he actually knew where we were, put 
 about ship, and sailed in the contrary direction from that 
 in which we had been drifting for the last eight hours. 
 The current was strong against us. with a light breeze on 
 our star-board bow. The ice approached us on all sides, 
 and, what was worst of all, a whitish fog covered us. 
 The captain was now manifestly alarmed, for he kept 
 close on deck, and gave his orders with impatience and 
 surliness, cursing and thrashing us as we had been 
 beasts. I confess I enjoyed his dilemma somewhat, and 
 would almost have run the risk of shipwreck to have seen 
 his big lobster snout cooled on an iceberg, for I hated 
 him most heartily. 
 
 When our needle became once more fixed in the same 
 direction, I never was so glad, as I then knew what we 
 were doing and whither sailing. 
 
 But sailing was soon out of the question. We were 
 completely involved hi broken floating ice, while an in- 
 terminable field appeared following us behind. In the 
 midst of this confusion, we continued drifting swiftly to- 
 ward the south-west with reefed sails, sometimes finding 
 a little opening and making some progress. We passed 
 what I took for a huge iceberg ; but I heard our captain 
 say it was one of the seven sisters, off the coast of Spitz- 
 bergen. That was the last land we were doomed to see. 
 After struggling on for four-and-twenty hours longer, we 
 perceived another field of ice before us, which likewise 
 seemed approaching us, for the floating ice was crushing 
 up before % it, and rolling over it. But whether it was 
 floating or fixed I know not ; the consequence to us was 
 the same, for the field behind coming on us with great 
 velocity, while we were fixed on the one a-head, I saw 
 
248 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 what was likely to be the issue. I ran up to the top- 
 mast, while our captain cursed me and ordered me down ; 
 but I regarded him not. In an instant crash went the 
 masts and bulwarks of the goodly Anne Forbes like egg 
 shells. I was swung from the mast by the concussion I 
 know not how far, and landed on one of the fields of ice. 
 I saw the captain and William Peterkin struggling to 
 reach one of the floes ; but they were instantly swamped 
 and crushed to pieces. The whole perished in an instant, 
 except myself, and the ship went down ; but in less than 
 half an hour, by some extraordinary operation of the ice- 
 berg below the water, she was thrown out on the ice, keel 
 uppermost, a perfect wreck. 
 
 There, then, was I left on a field of floating ice on the 
 great polar ocean, without one bite of food. I had nothing 
 in my pocket save an Old Testament of very small dimen- 
 sions, which my mother gave me when I went to my 
 apprenticeship. It wanted both the prophecies and New 
 Testament, but had the psalms, and with it I had never 
 parted, having lost the fellow of it. I saw at once the 
 necessity of trying to reach the hulk, which was beset 
 with danger, for the broken ice towered up in heaps, and 
 I had no doubt there were great gulfs between them. 
 But life was sweet, and hunger hard to bide, so it be- 
 hooved me to try. It is impossible to describe the perils 
 I underwent in this attempt ; for when climbing over 
 mountains of ice as firm as rocks, I came to other parts 
 which had little more consistency than froth, and there 
 I slumped over head and ears into the sea. But the sea 
 was so terribly compressed by the weight of the ice that 
 it always balked me up again fairly above the ice. Then 
 the ice was so slippery I could get no hold, and I knew 
 if I sunk among the rubbish into the water gradually, I 
 was gone ; therefore, when I found that I was going, I 
 jumped in, and then I was sure to come up again with a 
 bolt. At length, when beginning to despair, I reached a 
 splinter of a boat-mast, and then it was wonderful with 
 what safety I proceeded, though on the very point of 
 being totally exhausted with cold, hunger, and fatigue. 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 
 
 249 
 
 But, behold, when at length I reached the wreck. I 
 could not get in. Her keel was right uppermost; but 
 all the other parts were so jammed in among ice, that I 
 could find no ingress, and, moreover, I was completely 
 exhausted, and had nothing to dig with save the mast 
 splinter. The hulk, as far as above the ice, seemed 
 nearly complete and unbroken ; but within I could not 
 get. Perceiving a number of things scattered here and 
 there at a little distance, I took my splinter and made 
 toward them in hopes of finding something to allay my 
 hunger and thirst. I suffered far more from the latter ; 
 for all the ice which I tasted was salt, and my heart was 
 burning with unquenchable thirst. I found nothing save 
 scraps of sails, cables, boats, and things that had been 
 smashed on deck when the ice closed on us ; but by the 
 clearing up of the fog for a little, I perceived a mountain 
 not far from me beyond a level plain of ice. I hastened to 
 it, supposing it to be an island ; but when I went it was a 
 tremendous iceberg, so steep and slippery, that I could 
 not climb it ; but, to my agreeable astonishment, I found 
 the ice was fresh. I kneeled and blessed my kind Maker 
 for this relief, commended myself to his mercy and pity, 
 in that my perilous situation, and there I sucked and 
 sucked till I could hold no more. 
 
 My strength was now renewd, and my eyes enlight- 
 ened ; but the throes of hungei were increased. I went 
 once more among the wreck, looking for something to 
 eat ; but in fact with the hopes only of finding some one 
 of my dead companions, on whom I had made up my 
 mind to prey most liberally ; but I found none ; so that 
 the Almighty preserved me from cannibalism. I however 
 found, among other things, a small boat-hook used for 
 the yawl, and a harpoon fastened to a part of the shat- 
 tered long-boat. These were prizes not to be despised 
 by a man in such circumstances ; so returning to the 
 wreck with the boat-hook, I easily cleared away the ice 
 astern, and reached the cabin window, by which I en- 
 tered; but found a dreadful cabin, full of ice, and all 
 turned topsy turvey. I made my way to the biscuit 
 
250 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 bunker, which, being inverted, I broke up at the bottom, 
 and found it crammed full of biscuit. Although it was 
 steeped in salt water, I thought I never tasted any thing 
 so delicious ; so I eat and eat till I grew as thirsty as 
 ever, and was obliged to betake me to my iceberg again ; 
 but this time I was so provident as to take as much of it 
 with me as I could carry ; and now having some prospect 
 of protracting existence for a while, I felt rather happy 
 and thankful that I alone was saved from such a sudden 
 and dreadful death. I had likewise rather sanguine hopes 
 that the Almighty had something farther to do with me 
 in this world, and might preserve me to mix once more 
 with my fellow creatures, though by what means I could 
 not divine. 
 
 There was one phenomenon here which to me was in- 
 comprehensible. Perhaps not more than a month before, 
 (for there being no nights I could not exactly tell) we 
 had sailed along that sea without once perceiving ice, ex- 
 cepting that which girded Greenland, and now there was 
 nothing to be seen but solid ice all around as far as the 
 eye could reach on the clearest day. Where could this 
 ice have come from ? for a part of the day was still very 
 warm. It must have shifted from one side of the polar 
 sea to the other till it rested on some island. If I had 
 not seen this I could not have believed it ; but there are 
 currents, tides, and workings of nature or of God in that 
 sea, that man comprehends not. 
 
 To return to my narrative ; I continued clearing away 
 the rubbish from the cabin, for I could not be idle ; and on 
 reaching the captain's secret store closet, I broke it open in 
 hopes of getting something to drink ; but the wine bottles 
 were all overturned and smashed, at which I was exceed- 
 ingly grieved, for I felt a violent inclination to drink of 
 something stronger than ice-water. I got knives and 
 forks, however, a cork-screw, and many other things 
 that would have been of great use had I had any use for 
 them. At length, below all the rubbish, I came upon a 
 whole cask of spirits unpierced, and certainly never man 
 made a more joyful discovery, not even my late captain, 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 251 
 
 when he absurdly supposed he had discovered the north 
 pole. My desire was that it might prove ale or porter 
 before opening it, for there was a feeling within me that 
 whispered these were greatly wanted. The cork-screw 
 was instantly put in requisition, out flew the bung, and 
 down went my nose to the hole. It was either rum or 
 brandy, I could not tell which, indeed I believe it was 
 a mixture of the two ; so taking the tube of the old ship 
 bellows. I put in the wide end and sucked the small one. 
 The liquor came liberally. Never was there such nectar 
 tasted ! But I was little aware of its potency, having 
 never drunk any thing so good before, and besides, my 
 stomach and whole frame was out of order; of course I 
 was overcome in an instant, grew dizzy, and persuaded 
 that the hulk was turning up, I catched at the closet 
 shelves to support myself, but down I went beside my 
 cask, and I remember of laughing and trying with my 
 whole might to rise, but could not ; and there I lay till 
 the wheeling of the ship, which run round swifter than an 
 upper millstone, twirled me into a profound sleep. 
 
 The most singular thing now befell to me that ever be- 
 fell to a man, and I cannot explain how I outlived it. I 
 had actually lain in a trance, for at least a month, in that 
 closet, in utter darkness, the door having been closed, no 
 doubt, by myself, but how or when I knew not. The 
 first thing that brought me to my senses was the discov- 
 ery that my tube would no longer reach the brandy, and 
 that my supply was cut off for the present. This was a 
 grievous disappointment at the time ; but it proved a lucky 
 and providential one, for if my tube had been long enough 
 I had never risen from the ceiling of that inverted closet. 
 I put up my hand by chance, and feeling that my beard 
 had grown to an enormous length, I began to consider 
 where I was, and by degrees was enabled to trace myself 
 all the way from the minister's glebe at Auchendoir to 
 Aberdeen, and then away to the north pole, and back 
 again to my deplorable habitation. My body was all so 
 benumbed that I could not rise, which gave me still more 
 leisure to reflect, and reflection sobered me apace. The 
 
252 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 whole of the time I passed in this oblivious state appeared 
 to me, on reflection, as only a few hours, if I say a day 
 and night it would be the most, that was left impressed 
 on my memory. I recollected of taking some merry and 
 liberal sucks ; but the intervening time was wholly lost. 
 
 Still I lay quiet and dormant, except that I occasion- 
 ally tried to rub my limbs, to bring them in play. At 
 length I conceived that I heard a great number of people 
 busily engaged and muttering round the vessel. I listened 
 and listened, and became certain of it ; and never can I 
 describe the terror that came over me. One would have 
 thought the conviction that I was surrounded with human 
 beings would have brought me joy, as it gave hopes of 
 the possibility of escape. But I assure you the reverse 
 was the case ; for my body being in a nervous state, I 
 was seized with the most dreadful horrors. I supposed 
 they were some sort of polar demons, or, at best, savage 
 cannibals ; and at length I heard one of them enter the 
 cabin at my hole astern with apparent difficulty, and soon 
 after began a munching at my salt biscuits. I lay long ; 
 but at last was seized with irresistible curiosity to see 
 what kind of mortal it was, and how dressed. I therefore 
 rose up and cautiously opened the closet door, and when 
 I looked by, I saw what I supposed was a naked woman 
 escaping out at the cabin window. I was sure I saw her 
 bare feet and toes, and from her form, she appeared alto- 
 gether without clothes. This in the middle of the frozen 
 ocean was altogether unaccountable ; but having now my 
 cabin to myself, I seized my boat-hook in the one hand, 
 and my harpoon in the other, and went cautiously to my 
 cabin hole, for window there was none ; it had been 
 knocked out altogether during the ship's temporary dive 
 among the ice. Horrors multiplied upon me! When 
 I peeped from my hole, judge of my feelings on perceiv- 
 ing a whole herd of white polar bears prowling around 
 the ship, and all busy digging and eating. Whether a 
 distant view of the hulk, or the smell of the blubber and 
 carcases of the fish had brought them, was the same to 
 me ; there they were, and all busily employed ; and it was 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 253 
 
 amazing what holes these powerful persevering monsters 
 had dug in the ice, and were preying on the fish that had 
 been in the ship, and on the bodies of my late companions. 
 There were two bears within twelve yards of me rugging 
 and riving at the body of my late captain, which I knew 
 to be his from the shreds and patches of his clothes that 
 were strewed about, and a part of his deck hat, such as 
 is worn by English coasters and there was the end of 
 his grand discovery, poor infatuated wretch ! From this 
 fatal catastrophe I have often thought the north pole 
 would never be discovered, or that the discoverer would 
 never return with the tidings, for none could have a finer 
 or opener passage than we had northward, which was 
 soon obstructed in such an extraordinary manner. 
 
 Not knowing what experiment to fall on to drive this 
 herd of monsters away, I took a speaking trumpet and 
 shouted through it with all my might, "Avast, brothers!" 
 on which they sprung all up on their hind feet, standing 
 as straight as human creatures ; and I am sure there were 
 some of them that stood at least ten feet high. As they 
 were all sleek, fat, and plump, they appeared very like 
 naked human creatures with long brutal heads. Such a 
 fearful sight I never had seen. They listened and stared 
 about them for a space in this position ; but showed no 
 inclination to fly, sensible, I suppose, that they were the 
 lords of these regions. They again fell to munching their 
 grateful repast. I tried them with various kinds of 
 sounds ; but instead of flying, they began to congregate 
 and draw nearer me, to reconnoitre what it could be, ex- 
 pecting, I was sure, some fresh prey. I now began 
 instantly to barricade my only place of entrance, putting 
 the fire-grate into it, which was now of no use, the 
 chimney being turned downward. I then took all the 
 knives and forks I could get, and every sharp instrument, 
 and tied them to the bars with oakum, putting their sharp 
 points outward ; and conceiving myself in perfect safety, 
 I retired to my closet, drew off a tin tankard of the grand 
 elixif, took the blankets from the cabin beds, which were 
 hard frozen, and making myself a bed in the closet, I 
 
254 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 locked the door inside, took a composing draught, wrapped 
 myself up in my frozen blankets, and, like other polar 
 animals, once more betook me to a state of torpidity. 
 
 But let no one think I was utterly abandoned and 
 hopeless. I knew and believed that wherever I was, God 
 was there also, seeing every one of my actions, and hear- 
 ing every word that I spoke. So before I set my lips to 
 my beloved and intoxicating potion, I sung a great part 
 of the 107th psalm, and was rather proud to hear the 
 white bears gather around the hulk to listen. I then 
 read two chapters in Genesis, and prayed every sentence 
 of prayer kind that I could make out, some of it very ill 
 expressed, but perfectly serious. I then laid me down, 
 after taking a potent draught of spirits, as happy and care- 
 less as the king on the throne, and slept until my tankard 
 was out, which I think could not be above two days ; and 
 as it required both light and strength to renew it, I was 
 obliged to sober myself before I could effect this. I 
 arose again ; but the nights were now setting in, and the 
 bears prowling all about, though rather in a more listless 
 manner, as if gorged. I thought, too, there were not so 
 many of them ; but then I could only see in one direction. 
 I eat a good deal of salt biscuit at that time ; and I could 
 now reach plenty of hoar frost, which lay nearly two 
 inches thick, to allay my thirst. I am, however, quite 
 certain that I could live for months and years, if not 
 centuries, on good rum and brandy mixed, without tast- 
 ing any thing else. 
 
 I was now quite sure, from the invasion of the bears, 
 that there was a communication from my abode with 
 some country. I knew not which ; but I thought it 
 would most likely be with Spitzbergen. I was sure I 
 had passed it far to the southward, and had a particular 
 aversion to returning north. I imagined I was somewhere 
 about the middle of the sea between Greenland and the 
 North Cape ; but I was wrong, as will eventually appear. 
 I could not think of parting with my half hogshead of 
 precious spirits in such an inhospitable climate ; and I 
 knew there was plenty of stuff of all kinds within the 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 255 
 
 hulk if I could reach it ; and about this period I more 
 than half determined to attempt wintering on the ice. 
 On pondering over the possibility of this, I plainly per- 
 ceived that the first thing it behooved me to do was to 
 drink in moderation, and the next was to work my way 
 both into the hold and the forecastle, at whatever labour, 
 where it was likely plenty of coals and stores of various 
 sorts would still remain. I did not understand the geo- 
 graphy of the ship very well, every thing being reversed, 
 and the companion door down among the ice. This I 
 judged it necessary to gain, and then work my way be- 
 tween the deck and the solid ice below ; and many a day's 
 hard labour I spent in vain upon this; for when I at 
 length arrived at the valve of the hold, I found the whole 
 weight of the cargo tumbled over and lying above it, so 
 that to open it was not only impossible, but if it had been 
 practicable, would have been attended with certain suffo- 
 cation to myself. I marvelled at my stupidity in not 
 perceiving this before ; and rather suspect, that what with 
 horror and drinking I had not all my senses about me. 
 
 In the course of my excavations, however, I found the 
 captain's wardrobe, consisting of plenty of shirts and 
 clothes ; but all steeped with salt water, and frozen. I 
 found his shaving utensils, too, and his flint and prizel for 
 lighting his pipe, the far greatest treasure of all. I reached 
 likewise the coal-bunker, behind the flue, containing a 
 few coals and an old axe for breaking them. Among the 
 rubbish of a boat that had been fastened on deck, I like- 
 wise groped out a square sail and some smaller ones, which 
 I had put there below cover with my own hands. I like- 
 wise recovered a gallant hatchet, and many other things 
 of value ; and notwithstanding my disappointment in not 
 gaining the hold, I was a happy man. 
 
 I next made haste to kindle a fire, which I easily 
 effected; but the success was premature. From my 
 inverted grate no smoke finding egress, I was in a short 
 time nearly quite suffocated, and was obliged reluctantly 
 to extinguish my fire. Before doing so, as the ice below 
 the door of the hold, and all about, was loaded with 
 
256 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 blubber, I cut a part of my shirt into candle wicks, and 
 making a lamp of a broken bottle, I kindled that, which 
 was of itself a great comfort. My whole wits were now 
 put in requisition how to make a vent. I durst not 
 break open the rigging of my house in the keel. No, no, 
 that would never do. If I had had a hearth of any sort, 
 to prevent my house taking fire, I could have made a fire 
 astern, and a vent of the cabin window ; but then I had 
 no hearth, unless I could have reached the gridiron in 
 the forecastle, which at that time seemed impracticable ; 
 and besides, if I made a chimney of my only door of 
 access, I could neither get out nor in. Another plan 
 behooved to be contrived ; and I did contrive one which I 
 had very nearly effected with great ease, but was too 
 little of a philosopher, till experience made me one. I 
 took a goat skin, which had long been used as a hearth 
 rug in the cabin, and putting that next to the fire, I made 
 a funnel of that and sailcloth along the roof of my in- 
 verted cabin, and out at the cabin window. I did it 
 simply by pinning the cloth along the roof on each side, 
 and always as I proceeded I put in a piece of stick, those 
 next the fire being six inches long, and those at the outer 
 end only three, so that I had a nice funnel of a triangular 
 shape. I kindled my fire with a heart full of hope. No ! 
 The devil a piping of smoke would go out at the end of 
 my grand flue ! I was terribly cast down, and knew not 
 what to do next, till at length it struck me, as I lay on 
 my bed, that perhaps smoke would not descend. I had 
 never seen it do so, and people made their chimneys 
 always on the tops of their houses, never either at the 
 bottom or through the gable like mine. I could not think 
 of breaking up my keel, in which I might yet be obliged 
 to trust myself on the ocean, and therefore I longed ar- 
 dently to preserve it as a forlorn hope. Fire was now 
 the only thing I wanted to make me exceedingly happy. 
 I wanted it for melting snow or ice, for cooking, and for 
 drying my clothes ; but without a smoke-vent I could 
 not use it. So the next day, as an easy experiment, 
 though one of which I had little hope, I carried my flue 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 257 
 
 up to the hee of the keel, and kindled my fire once more. 
 There was not a vent in all Aberdeen, no, nor in Lon- 
 don, drew better. I clapped my hands, and screamed 
 and danced for joy; but bethinking what better behooved 
 me, I kneeled down, and blessed and thanked my kind 
 Maker and Preserver most heartily ; and I always reflect 
 on those ardent devotions on' the ice of the northern ocean 
 with great delight. I was then only in my 21st year, 
 strong, agile, and so healthy, that I never in my life had 
 had any ailment ; and I cannot describe my exultation 
 that night, as I sat by my blazing fire drying my new 
 stock of shirts, bedclothes, and clothes of all sorts. It 
 was a night to be remembered as long as I live, and shall 
 be so most gratefully. 
 
 It was plain that winter was now set in. The calls of 
 the swans and geese journeying southward no more 
 reached my ears. A few bears were occasionally prowl- 
 ing about ; but they neither troubled me nor I them ; 
 and as I now had to use my grate, I merely stuffed up 
 my entrance with a large snowball, which I shaped in it, 
 of wet snow, and suited it, when frozen, to a hairbreadth. 
 It pushed outward ; and as I had a piece of cable through 
 it, I pushed it out or drew it in as suited my conve- 
 nience ; but my employment and enjoyment being all 
 within doors, I went out only once a day to gather 
 snow, look about me, &c. 
 
 Well, just when the days were beginning to fade alto- 
 gether, it came one night a terrible storm of wind and 
 snow-drift. I peeped out several times at it, but it was 
 dreadful; so I drew in my snowball, stuffed the hole 
 doubly, and retired to rest, after singing a psalm, reading, 
 and praying. About the middle of the night I was 
 awakened by some noise inside my cabin. I was frightened 
 beyond measure, for I had no conception what it could 
 be. I conceived that the bears had all retired to their 
 dens long ago, and were lying in a state of torpidity; 
 and an absurd terror took hold of me that it was the 
 ghost of captain Hughes. The conviction that I was 
 sleeping in his shirt and bedclothes, and drinking his 
 Y 2 
 
258 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 beloved beverage nightly, made me feel very uneasy. I 
 had likewise seen him perish among the broken ice ; and 
 though assistance was out of my power, I had never 
 proffered it ; and, finally, I had seen the bears grubbing 
 up his flesh and bones without greatly regretting it. In 
 short, the meeting with my late commander's spirit, at 
 this time, I found would be any thing but agreeable. It 
 came to my closet door and rapped ; I held my breath, 
 for I was unable to speak with terror. It tried to wrench 
 open the door, and a terrible effort it made ; but it failed 
 for that time. I was by this time on my feet, with a 
 large carving knife in my hand, as sharp as a lance in the 
 point, which I kept always on a shelf beside me ; but 
 presently I heard the ghost go away and attack my biscuit 
 bunker. I then knew it was my former visitor, the bear, 
 and kept quiet. She did not stay to eat any ; but imme- 
 diately drew herself out at the window again with much 
 difficulty. 
 
 I lay still, though the cold from the open window was 
 terrible ; but having nothing wherewith rightly to shut it, 
 I lay still, hoping the danger and spoliation, for that time, 
 was over, and resolved to secure my premises better in 
 future. In about half an hour I heard the creature drag- 
 ging itself in again. I arose with great quietness, and 
 listened, and heard it take bread from the bunker, and 
 immediately depart. I was now sure that it had come to 
 steal for its winter store, and that it would leave me des- 
 titute ; for though I knew that there was plenty of 
 provision in the hulk, I could not reach it; so I instantly 
 struck a light, which (having made tinder) I could now 
 do in a moment, and keeping close within my closet, I 
 awaited the return of this foraging monster with a palpi- 
 tating heart; for whether or not it was from having been 
 bred a tailor, I cannot tell, but I certainly had something 
 rather cowardly and timorous in my nature. In about 
 the same space of time, half an hour namely, I heard the 
 creature enter once more and attack the biscuit. I 
 flung open the closet door, and bolted out, having the 
 light in my left hand, and the long ship carving knife, for 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 250 
 
 cutting up beef, whales, and porpoises, in my right. This 
 apparition, particularly, I supposed the light, which in all 
 probability the creature had never seen before, frightened it 
 so dreadfully, that it dashed out at the window with more 
 precipitance than prudence ; for not taking leisure to put 
 out its forefeet first along with its head, it stuck fast, and 
 could not move. I ran forward, and with my long knife 
 gave the animal two deadly stabs below the fifth rib, 
 toward the heart. The blood gushed out, and nearly filled 
 my cabin ; and the creature very soon gave over struggling. 
 I had no intention of committing this murder on the 
 poor animal. It was wholly an accidental act. When I 
 struck it, it was merely with a sort of vague intention of 
 frightening it that it might not come back ; but when I saw 
 it stretching out its limbs in death, and its feet and thighs 
 so like those of a human creature, I could not help feeling 
 as if I had committed some enormous crime. I am ashamed 
 to own this now, but it is the truth ; and all that I can say 
 for myself is, that I was bred a tailor, and was often ashamed 
 of that which other men would have been proud of, and 
 proud of that of which they would have been ashamed. 
 
 Be that as it may, I left the huge animal sticking in 
 the hole to keep out the cold, and retired to my couch, 
 locking and bolting my closet door, but not to sleep. I 
 was in a quandary, and was afraid of something, I knew 
 not what ; but I took a good dram, which warmed and 
 cheered my heart considerably. I lay long in a sort of 
 feverish state without repose ; and at length I arose and 
 went to examine my prey. It was stiff, and beginning to 
 grow rigid in the flank ; yet, strange to say, I heard it 
 munching the biscuits outside, and making a sort of 
 grumbling noise over them. I was more frightened than 
 ever, and began to think that nature was all reversed in 
 that horrible clime ; for how a creature could be dead 
 and frozen in its hinder parts, and munching and eating 
 with its fore parts, was to me quite inconceivable ; yet I 
 was sure of it. What does any body think I should have 
 done ? Certainly just what I did I ran once more into 
 my closet, and locked myself in. 
 
260 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 This state of things could not last. I could not remain 
 shut up in my cabin without water, by a huge monster 
 half dead and half living ; so as I could not push it out, 
 I resolved to pull it in, and abide by the consequences. 
 I did so. The animal was stark dead, and its tongue 
 hanging out at its mouth hard frozen. I was, you may 
 be sure, glad to find it so ; yet how to account for my 
 former impressions was above my calculation. 
 
 I turned my prey on its back, to begin the operation 
 of flaying and cutting up. The animal was a huge she- 
 bear, with milk in her dugs, which had manifestly been 
 newly sucked. If my heart smote me before for what I 
 had done, it smote me ten times more intensely now, 
 when I had taken a mother from her starving offspring ; 
 and when I thought of her having been stealing bread to 
 preserve them from famishing amid the storm, I not only 
 shed tears, I wept like a repentant sinner, and begged 
 forgiveness of Heaven. 
 
 What could be done ? I had taken a life which I could 
 not restore ; and thinking it might be a prey sent me by 
 Providence to preserve my own life, I skinned the animal 
 with great difficulty, chipped it into neat square pieces, 
 and spread it on the ice below the inverted deck to freeze. 
 I calculated that I could not have less than twenty stones' 
 weight of good wholesome fresh meat. I then cleared 
 out my cabin, washing it all with hot water, and spread 
 the bear's skin on it for a carpet. I then took a modicum 
 of warm punch, went to my bed, and slept most profoundly. 
 
 But new adventures still awaited me, even in that soli- 
 tude, where any one would have thought I was abstracted 
 from every thing that had life. On awaking, I heard a 
 noise at my window, and instantly recognised the sounds 
 as the same which I had heard before when the dead 
 bear was sticking fast in the window. It was a sort of 
 plaintive grumbling. I had fearful misgivings, guessing 
 too truly what it was, and, without hesitation, opened the 
 window. It was a bear cub, just apparently starving to 
 death of hunger and cold, and asking its mother of me 
 with such pitiful whines, looks, and trembling gestures, 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 26 1 
 
 as I never in life witnessed. It raised its forefeet to the 
 window, as if entreating to be taken in. I helped it in, 
 and I am sure a more affecting sight never met the eye 
 of mortal man. When it found its parent's skin, it uttered 
 a bleat of joy, and the tears actually streamed from its 
 eyes. It went on uttering the same sort of joyful sounds 
 that a foal does which has been long kept from its dam. 
 It went round and round, and licked the skin for very 
 fondness ; but, alas ! it was always looking for what it 
 could not get, the mother's exhausted dug. Poor object ! 
 When I thought of its having come to the very spot 
 where it had last seen her, and where it had been fed 
 with bread from her dying mouth, I felt as if my heart 
 would break. 
 
 At length it seemed to comprehend something of the 
 matter, that a rueful change had taken place ; for after 
 long pauses of stupid consideration, its mutters of joy 
 gradually changed into meanings of heart-rending pathos. 
 It showed neither hostility to, nor fear of me ; its mother 
 was its home, its guide, and director, and it had no other. 
 So after going several times round, with the most hope- 
 less looks that I ever witnessed, it laid itself down in a 
 round form to die contented ; but its groans were not to 
 be borne. I proffered it some biscuit ; it looked astonished 
 and rather afraid, having assuredly forgotten, in its agony 
 first of joy and then of sorrow, that there was any other 
 creature present to witness these. It received the first small 
 piece shily and timorously ; but the rest it ate so vora- 
 ciously, that it scarcely took any time to masticate it, and 
 I was afraid it would choke. It had been clearly on the 
 very point of famishing. I knew that was not its natural 
 food, and I had little to spare ; but what could I do? I 
 had not the heart to offer it a piece of its parent's flesh, 
 and I had no other. 
 
 In casting about in my mind how I was to feed this 
 poor forlorn object, I recollected with joy, that on the 
 ice which I had cleared below the deck of the hold, there 
 were huge heaps of frozen blubber lying. Forthwith I 
 crept away with my old coal axe and a light, and brought 
 
262 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 plenty of rigid blubber, which I brake into small pieces, 
 and fed it from my hand, patting it every time, and 
 speaking kindly to it, calling it Nancy, after the only girl 
 I had ever loved, for it was a female ; and if ever I wit- 
 nessed looks of gratitude, it was from that helpless crea- 
 ture, thus cast friendless and destitute on my protection. 
 I patted it and fondled over it ; and when it licked my 
 hand in return, my heart bounded with delight. Our 
 friendship was formed with a resolution that it should 
 never be broken on my part. 
 
 No one can imagine who has not, like me, been left all 
 alone on a wide, wide sea, the interest that I felt in this 
 young savage of the desert. I have no . expression for 
 my feelings otherwise than to say, I loved it. Yes, I 
 felt that I loved it for its misfortunes, for its filial 
 affection, and for thus confiding in me. I fed it slowly 
 and liberally, until I began to dread I was giving it too 
 much, and took the remainder away back out of its 
 reach. I then sat down beside it, gazed fondly on it, 
 patting it all the while, and repeating its name, "poor 
 Nancy, poor Nancy." She licked my hand again, and 
 then rolling herself up once more on her mother's skin, 
 after a few occasional heavy moans, fell sound asleep. 
 
 Out of this sleep she did not waken for I know not 
 how long, for I lived a strange sort of life, having lost all 
 reckoning of months, weeks, or days. The only regu- 
 lator that I had of time was by the length that my beard 
 had grown ; and I think the length of this first sleep of 
 hers was at least three days and nights, and she might 
 probably have slept as many months if I had not, with 
 great difficulty, awakened her for the sake of her society, 
 which I could not live without. 
 
 In the mean time I was not idle, having now a new 
 motive for exertion ; and it was amazing how easily I 
 effected my object when once I fell upon a right plan. 
 I cannot imagine how I should have been so stupid ; but 
 the truth is, that never having passed from the cabin 
 either to the hold or forecastle save by the companion 
 door arid the deck, so even now, when the ship was turned 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON 2163; 
 
 with her keel right uppermost, I never had once thought 
 that any other way was practicable, whereas, in the present 
 position of the vessel, it was utterly impracticable. But 
 the road I now discovered was this : In the floor of the fore- 
 castle there was a trap-door, communicating with the bilge 
 water, into which we emptied foul water, without being 
 obliged to run up to the ship's side every instant. There 
 was likewise one in the cabin ; but that being carpeted, 
 was seldom or never opened. These floors, be it remem- 
 bered, were now my ceiling, a circumstance which seems, 
 till then, never to have been thoroughly comprehended 
 by me. Thus on pushing aside the latch of the trap- 
 door above, which I easily effected with a table knife, 
 well knowing its simple structure, the door fell toward 
 me, and hung by the hinges. On entering this hatch- 
 hole, I found myself in the keel of the vessel, among the 
 pig-iron, which, having fallen downward, I had a free 
 passage, first into the hold, where I found abundance of 
 coals and casks of fresh water, or rather of fresh ice, and 
 the carcases of five or six whales ; so at all events I had 
 plenty of meat for my new companion for many years to 
 come, and plenty of blubber to burn ; but all was in a 
 state of perfect rigidity. Over this I passed into the 
 forecastle, and in the larder found a large barrel half full 
 of beef, and another more than half full of pork. These 
 were turned, of course, with their bottoms upmost ; but 
 the lids being locked, I had no other thing to do but 
 to turn them the other way, and then they were just as 
 at first. I found, likewise, bacon, mutton, and deer hams, 
 and about half a cask of Highland whisky ; so that no 
 man could have a Better provisioned house than I had, if 
 its foundation had ueen upon a rock, save on the ocean 
 ice, which, in the event of any great storm from the south 
 or south-east, was liable to be broken up. I had, how- 
 ever, a strong trust in the mercy of God, who had 
 hitherto preserved and provided for me in such a wonder- 
 ful manner; and great as my dangers and difficulties have 
 been, my trust was not placed on a bruised reed. 
 
 I now went back rejoicing to my sleeping partner, 
 
264 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 taking a good whang of solid fish with me, with pipes, 
 snuff, and tobacco, all which I found nicely packed up in 
 boxes. I had found the captain's store before ; but now 
 I had the greatest abundance, for every one of our crew 
 had been smokers, and some of them took snuff. I tried 
 to waken Nancy, but tried in vain. She was quite dor- 
 mant. I lifted her up in my arms, shook her, and boxed 
 her on the ear ; but her head hung down. When I 
 boxed her she uttered sometimes a sort of sleepy "humph ;" 
 but would not open her eyes. At length I held burning 
 tobacco to her nose, which made her sneeze violently, and 
 wakened her up somewhat. I tfeen held a piece of fish 
 to her nose, which slowly and carelessly she devoured. 
 In a little time her eyes lightened up, and she looked for 
 more ; I fed her, and she awakened, and her eyes lighted 
 up ; but ever and anon she smelled on the skin, uttering 
 a mournful mutter over it. I wanted her to lie beside 
 me, and carried her into my room, closing the door ; but 
 she would not settle nor rest from the skin of her mother. 
 I then arose, and bringing the skin, I spread it above my 
 blankets ; she then came in of herself, and lay down on 
 it, uttering the same kind of sounds as before. 
 
 My only difficulty now was in keeping her from sleep- 
 ing, which I could only effect by constant and gentle 
 feeding ; for it seems to be inherent in the nature of 
 the great white polar bear only to burrow in their dens 
 and sleep when they can find nothing more of any kind 
 to eat. In short, I got her learned, by degrees,. to follow 
 me out and in. When out, she was never weary of 
 rolling among the snow ; and she often scraped bitterly 
 at the ice, as if longing to get into the sea. But as she 
 now lay in my bosom, I did not encourage this propen- 
 sity, especially as she continued to thrive and grow 
 amazingly fast, and was as plump as a small fatted calf. 
 Yes, she lay in my bosom ; and though certainly a most 
 uncourtly mate, she being the only one I had, I loved 
 her sincerely, I might almost say, intensely. She never 
 once showed the least disposition toward surliness ; but 
 having transferred her love from her mother to me, her 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 265 
 
 only protector, she was all affection and kindness, seeming 
 to consider me as a friend of her own species. She 
 answered to her name, and came at my bidding ; and 
 when we walked out upon the ice, I took her paw in my 
 arm, and learned her to walk upright. A pretty couple 
 certainly we were, I dressed like a gentleman in my late 
 captain's holiday clothes, and she walking arm in arm 
 with me, with her short steps, her long taper neck, and 
 unfeasible, long head ; there certainly never was any thing 
 more ludicrous. I often laughed heartily at the figure 
 we made ; and as she tried to imitate me in every thing, 
 so she did in laughing ; but her laugh was perfectly irre- 
 sistible, with the half closed eye, the grin, and the neigh. 
 It was no laugh in reality, and such a caricature of one 
 never was exhibited. There was a fine echo proceeding 
 from some caverns in the huge iceberg which rose imme- 
 diately in our vicinity. There was something exceed- 
 ingly romantic in the voice of this spirit of the iceberg ; 
 and I often amused myself by shouting to it, and listening 
 to the distinct repetition, which I persuaded myself was 
 louder than my own voice. But how was I amused one 
 day with Nancy, who had been gamboling and rolling on 
 the ice at a great rate, when she all at once, of her own 
 accord, stood up on end, and putting a paw to each side 
 of her mouth, as I was wont to do, she uttered such a 
 tremendous bray to the echo, as was enough to have 
 split its parent iceberg. The shout was returned with 
 increased energy, while Nancy was standing with her 
 nose towards it, listening with the most intense admira- 
 tion. Then turning round her grinning snout, and 
 perceiving that I had fallen down in a convulsion of 
 laughter, she too threw herself down on the snow, 
 and laughed, kicked, and spurred to admiration. I 
 laughed until I was weak, and then went up to her and 
 caressed her, saying many kind things to her. After 
 that she shouted every day to the echo, until I gave over 
 laughing at it, and then she gave it up. 
 
 From the time that I got possession of Nancy and the 
 whole ship, I never spent a winter so uniformly delight- 
 
 i. z 
 
266 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 f-ul ; and long as it was, the only thing I was terrified for 
 was its coming to an end, for then I knew the ice would 
 break up, and God only knew where I might be driven. 
 I never understood aught about the seasons, nor troubled 
 myself calculating about them, which I knew would be to 
 no purpose ; for suppose the winter is all one night, yet 
 the fact is, that there is no night at all in these arctic 
 regions, at least on the blazon of white ice where I was. 
 There is no pitch-dark winter night such as I have often 
 seen in Strathbogie. I never went out that it was not 
 quite light, though I knew not one time of the twenty- 
 four hours from another. There was often a white frost 
 fog brooding over the ice, through which I could not see 
 objects at any great distance ; still it was quite light where 
 I stood. The darkest time I ever chanced to be out, 
 was like a winter twilight in Scotland an hour after the 
 sun goes down. Neither was the cold at all intolerable. 
 Loud stormy winds came but seldom ; and if it had not 
 been for my nose, I could have wrought at hard labour 
 in the open air a part of almost every day ; but the frost 
 raised such a smarting in my nose, I could not suffer it. 
 The sun at length made his appearance above the 
 southern horizon ; and though I felt no symptoms of in- 
 stability in the foundation of my abode, I began to have 
 many anxious thoughts, for the snow with which I had 
 covered the hulk to a yard in thickness, began on some 
 days to melt and run down on the one side, forming huge 
 icicles. The first thing I employed myself in, after the 
 appearance of the sun, was to go daily and labour at cut- 
 ting out a regular stair to the top of the iceberg, in order 
 to make what discoveries I could. This I was not long 
 in effecting, and found it a huge mountain of solid ice, 
 as high as North Berwick Law, but more irregular in its 
 form, having creeks and ravines innumerable. I felt 
 greatly exhilarated on feeling myself on such an elevation; 
 and as for Nancy, she was perfectly mad with delight, 
 for her spirits always rose and fell with mine. She ran 
 round and round the top, making many acute wheels, and 
 cutting the most ludicrous capers, till coming inadvert- 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 267 
 
 ently on a steep place, she missed her feet, and went to 
 the bottom as swift as an arrow. The hill was so high, 
 and she so white, I could scarcely discern her trying to 
 climb it again ; but she could not, until she came round 
 by the stair. Then seeing that I appeared amused at 
 her adventure, she took another scamper, threw herself 
 on her hams, set her fore feet wide, and down she went 
 again. This was an amusement of every day's occurrence, 
 until I gave over being amused with it, and then it was 
 given up. I often persuaded myself that I perceived 
 hills sometimes in one direction, sometimes another; but 
 they were never to be seen again. These were singu- 
 larly illusive scenes. I could fancy I saw hills and glens, 
 with wreaths of snow here and there, and yet I could 
 never see them in the same direction again. It is a strange 
 unearthly climate thereabouts, and has no congeniality in 
 it with human nature. 
 
 At length the swans came north over my head, shout- 
 ing day and night, and the voice of the wild gander from 
 the breast of the sky was rarely silent. This, I thought, 
 boded bad things for me, for it told plainly that the polar 
 seas, beyond this great land of ice, were open. I there- 
 fore judged that if the ice broke up, I was sure to be 
 carried northward, no man knew where, among unknown 
 seas and frozen coasts, and perhaps be frozen to one of 
 the latter, to remain till I suffered a miserable death. 
 
 The truth is, that I felt myself a very helpless being. 
 I had no compass, and not the least notion where I was. 
 I thought it behooved me, at this time, in order to endea- 
 vour the preservation of my own life, to set out in search 
 of some country ; but I knew not where to go, or where 
 to find either continent or isle. I had still plenty of 
 victuals, such as they were, both oatmeal, rye, and flour. 
 I had a fowling-piece, and had contrived to dry a box of 
 gunpowder, which had all run ink) one lump ; but when 
 scraped down, fired middling well. I had beef and pork ; 
 but for the longing desire I had for fresh meat, I had de- 
 voured a good deal of my bear's flesh, though I never let 
 Nancy taste it, nor yet the soup it was boiled in. She 
 
268 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 liked the whales better, and lived most sumptuously, 
 better than ever a bear lived before ; and I never saw an 
 animal thrive so well. She rolled and tumbled among 
 the snow often for hours at a time. 
 
 I climbed the iceberg every tolerable day; and at 
 length formed the resolution of digging a cavern in it. as 
 it was impossible, I thought, that it could sink, nor could 
 it melt for ages. I began, accordingly, with axe and 
 shovel, and high up, I am sure three or four hundreds of 
 feet above the level ice, I opened my cavern. The task 
 was a delightful one. It was very easy, the ice coming 
 off in great splinters. I made great progress ; and when 
 I had finished my anteroom, it was like a crystal dome, 
 perfectly brilliant and beautiful. When the sun shone, it 
 had all the colours of the rainbow. I liked the employ- 
 ment, and persevered on till I made several neat apart- 
 ments, and one with a chimney, which I made with great 
 labour with a bar of pig iron. I gloried in this achieve- 
 ment, feeling as if I were in a castle, where no polar bear 
 or enemy of any kind could approach me without finding 
 out my stair, which, on such a large mountain, was quite 
 improbable. There was one of my apartments allotted 
 for a pantry ; and here I carried, with great toil, a part 
 of my provisions, a part of spirits, meal, and, in short, 
 every thing I had ; but the carrying of them up that per- 
 pendicular stab- was a very severe job. I resolved, if I 
 saw the ice breaking up, to trust myself on the iceberg 
 as my best resource, and leave the rest to Providence, 
 which had hitherto been so kind to me. 
 
 Had the hulk of the Anne Forbes been situated in the 
 middle of a floe, I would have trusted myself in her with 
 perfect security ; but I knew she was on the verge of a 
 fissure, in which she had first been swallowed up, and 
 then, by some extraordinary operation in the meeting of 
 the ice below water, was shortly tossed up again with her 
 keel uppermost. 
 
 Now, I must let the friends that read this see exactly 
 how we were situated. When the ship went down, I 
 was at the top of the mast. I was swung off a great (iis- 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 269 
 
 tance to the south. In a short time, by a tremendous 
 convulsion of the meeting of the two fields, the ship was 
 tossed up again. That fissure between the fields, in which 
 the ship was swallowed up, was between me and the ship, 
 as the reader will recollect, and the difficulty I had in 
 crossing it to the wreck. The iceberg arose straight to 
 the north-west, and the base of it only about the distance 
 of a hundred and forty paces ; the ice between being all 
 level, while that to the south and south-east was all broken 
 and raised into ridges. This engendered a hope in me 
 that the floe on which the hulk rested was attached to 
 the mountain iceberg. There was likewise a sloping de- 
 clivity all round the southern base of the mountain, as if 
 part of it had been melted and frozen again; and I 
 therefore considered myself perfectly safe in it from any 
 danger but starvation, and could not but deem it emi- 
 nently sublime for me to be living in a crystalline palace 
 on this elemental mountain, which, for any thing I knew, 
 might have brooded upon the shores of the polar sea, or 
 traversed its lonely depth for ages. 
 
 For the space of two months, I daresay, I spent all my 
 waking hours on the top of this romantic mountain with 
 Nancy, for she was as constant to me as my shadow ; but 
 we still continued, at some risk, to sleep in the cabin, it 
 being so much more comfortable than sleeping in a bed- 
 room of ice. Then every morning when I went up to 
 my crystal palace I sung a psalm, read a chapter, and 
 prayed ; and every day my hope was strengthened that 
 God would not forsake his poor outcast from humanity, 
 who thus trusted in him. The whole of those two months 
 passed in our common routine manner; so that I do not 
 recollect any thing worth relating. 
 
 I can give no dates ; but one morning, which I sup- 
 posed from the height and heat of the sun was about 
 midsummer, on going to the top of the ice mountain and 
 looking round, the whole sea to the northward was clear 
 of ice to within a mile of us, while there was at the same 
 time manifestly a strong current running northward, as I 
 perceived pieces of broken ice, &c., running rapidly in 
 
270 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 that direction, and I hourly expected some great revolu- 
 tion. It was to me like the subverting of a kingdom, or 
 the breaking up of a world. 
 
 Every thing remained as usual for several days longer, 
 only I and my companion slept in our crystal chamber, 
 and continued carrying necessaries to it the whole day ; 
 for I had a wallet with which I loaded Nancy, and she 
 could carry more at a time than I could. But there was 
 one time that would have been about midnight, if there 
 had been such a thing, for the sun was north, that I was 
 awakened from a sound sleep by the tottering motion of 
 the iceberg. I was astonished and frightened, for it was 
 not like the motion of a ship getting under weigh, but 
 that of a cart over great stones. I then became convinced 
 that that huge mass of ice rested on the bottom of the 
 ocean, and I thought it would certainly split into shivers. 
 The motion, however, ceased in the course of a minute, 
 by which time I was up and out on my platform, from 
 whence I saw that the iceberg had moved a small degree 
 round to the west. It had separated from the interminable 
 field of ice on the east, leaving a gap there about a bow- 
 shot over, and on the west that gap not only ran to a 
 point, but south-west from that, the ice of the field was 
 crushed up in a crooked ridge. From this it was quite 
 evident that the bottom of the iceberg rested and swung 
 on some point from which it could not get free. 
 
 As the wreck remained on our side of the opening, I 
 hasted down from the mountain to see how matters stood, 
 and view this mighty phenomenon, for so it appeared to 
 me. But it was a far greater phenomenon than any man 
 can conceive, for it is impossible to describe it in any 
 words that I have. The place where I stood, and where 
 the hulk of the Anne Forbes rested, was only on one of 
 the shelves of this mighty mountain. The sea in the 
 opening was as bright as a mirror, nay, it was as pure as 
 ether, and through it I could see the ledgins of this 
 amazing cone spreading away shelve below shelve into 
 the channels of the ocean. 
 
 I now understood perfectly well the whole circum- 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 27 1 
 
 stances of our wreck. This huge mass had been coming 
 from the north with an under current, carrying all before 
 it. The field of ice that encountered it had been going 
 in an opposite direction with a surface current ; then, 
 when the collision took place, this great surface field, 
 heaved up by some of the downward shelves of the moun- 
 tain, had rushed over the Anne Forbes, smashed her 
 gunwale and masts to atoms, and laid her over. This 
 sudden pressure of the great field had put the iceberg a 
 little off its equilibrium, making the forepart to dip, when 
 the revulsion had tossed the wreck backward on the 
 mountain's own base. Nothing could be more natural or 
 evident ; indeed it could not have happened otherwise. 
 
 As soon as Nancy saw the water, she rushed into it, 
 and swam about in perfect delight vanished in below the 
 ice for a space that frightened me for her safety, although 
 I knew it was the nature of that species to fish for their 
 food even in the channels of the ocean. She at length 
 appeared with a fish in her mouth, something like a large 
 hirling. I was glad of it, regarding it as a feast, and 
 caressed and commended her for it. No sooner was she 
 sensible of my approval, than away she flew again to the 
 verge of the opening, peeping along its margin with a 
 most knowing turn up of her cheek. Whenever she 
 dived she brought up a fish of some sort ; but that day, 
 I think she only got three. Every day thereafter the 
 fish grew more plenty, the light having brought all the 
 fish in that channel to enjoy its influence ; and day after 
 day Nancy had the verge of the opening bedded with fine 
 fish, so that I had a treasure in value fai above what I 
 had calculated in that singular animal. These fish were 
 all unknown to me nominally, except the cod ; but there 
 were some of them of a very rich flavour. I cleaned 
 them carefully, washed them with salt water, and spread 
 them among ice in the heart of the iceberg, in case of 
 future exigences. These fish, before the end, would 
 have loaded a cart. 
 
 I often reflected with wonder and admiration on the 
 extraordinary kindness of Providence to me, that I should 
 
272 , SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 have been left alone in the midst of the frozen ocean 
 without lacking one of the necessaries, comforts, or even 
 luxuries of life. I wanted nothing but the society of my 
 species, which was half and more compensated by that of 
 the most docile and affectionate of all animals. I hope I 
 was duly grateful to my Preserver ; I meant to be so, 
 and expressed it as well as I could, always before I 
 lay down to sleep, and immediately after I arose. I 
 was glad that Nancy, who was such an irresistible 
 mimic, did not begin singing psalms with me, for she 
 would have made a very bad business of it ; but the poor 
 creature had the good sense never to attempt it. She 
 uniformly lay down with her head on her fore paws, 
 closed her eyes, and looked very devout, without any 
 caricature. 
 
 Perceiving the strong foundation on which I rested, I 
 again slept in my old birth in the closet of the cabin ; and 
 one morning when I arose (I must call it morning, though 
 there was no night), our beautiful crystal gap of water, 
 I observed, was gone, and we had set off on another 
 polar voyage, and left the interminable field of ice behind 
 us as far as the eye could reach. Soon did I lose sight 
 of it, and then all was again sea, nothing but sea ; and 
 that we (by we, I mean the iceberg, Nancy, and me) 
 were generally going on an under current, was quite evi- 
 dent from the swiftness with which all other floating 
 substances past us hi the contrary direction. 
 
 O that I had been a man of science, or that I had had 
 a compass or any kind of instruments with me, that I 
 might have noted down marks that would have kept things 
 in my memory, for write I could not. But of all expedi- 
 tions, next to that of Noah, I consider this of mine as 
 having been the grandest ever accomplished by man. 
 There was I reposing at my ease, or walking in awful 
 sublimity on the top of a lofty mountain, moving on with 
 irresistible power and splendour. Without star or com- 
 pass, without sail or rudder, there was I journeying on 
 in the light of a sun that set not, solely in the Almighty's 
 hand, to lead and direct me whithersoever he pleased. 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 273 
 
 The fowls of heaven occasionally roosted in thousands on 
 my mountain, and regarded me only as a fellow creature. 
 I rejoiced in their presence, and loved to see them so 
 beautiful and so happy ; and, moreover, they assured me 
 of the presence of the Deity, for I knew they were all 
 ' his creatures, a portion of his limitless creation ; and as a 
 sparrow could not fall to the ground without his permis- 
 sion and decree, so I knew that all those lovely creatures 
 were living and moving in him ; and that I was there in 
 his benign and awful presence, in that sublime tabernacle 
 of the ocean, as immediately as in the grandest temple of 
 worship that the world contained. 
 
 I never lacked amusement long at a time, when abroad 
 on that wonderful hill. There was a broad field to walk 
 on all round the ledges of it, except on one place where 
 it rose perpendicular from the sea. On these ledges the 
 uncouth and lazy walruses were frequently to be seen 
 resting and rolling themselves ; and the seals would have 
 congregated on it had it not been for Nancy, between 
 whom and them there was a perpetual and bloody warfare 
 carried on, and many of them were forced to give up the 
 ghost to her indomitable spirit and prowess. I was 
 grieved at these encounters, thinking my favourite and 
 only companion would be disabled or slain, for they often 
 went below water, while the sea would become all red 
 with blood. But so keen was she of the sport, I could 
 not restrain her ; nor could I make any use of the 
 carcases, for cook it as I would, the meat was bad. Nancy 
 was fonder of it than any other. She did not catch very 
 many fish in the open sea, although constantly on the 
 look-out for them ; yet it was very rare that I had not 
 plenty for my table. There were some times that she 
 catched great numbers of herrings of the very finest 
 quality ; and there were other days that we fell among 
 great shoals of gilses, or small salmon, as I thought. 
 
 For the space of six months, at least, must I have tra- 
 versed these polar seas without ever knowing where I 
 was. I knew the main points of the heaven for a while, 
 by accounting the point of the sun's highest elevation 
 
274 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 above the horizon, south ; but at length I lost myself, and 
 this rule proved of no avail. The hulk, which, for a 
 long time at first, had always been astern, became at 
 length the prow, and I knew not where I was going. I 
 several times saw mountains on my larboard bow in the 
 early part of my tour, and twice, in particular, quite 
 distinctly. They were all speckled with snow, and 
 very like the Grampian mountains of Scotland in a day 
 of spring. 
 
 At length I saw a headland or island straight before 
 me, and my resistless vessel bearing straight upon it. I 
 was all anxiety, of course ; and though I believed I was 
 not in Europe, I was anxious to see what kind of country 
 it was, and was on the top point of the iceberg on the 
 watch. It was very rugged, rocky, and steep, and at 
 least one-third of it covered with snow. I was even so 
 nigh, that I saw a being moving about on the shore, 
 staring at the floating mountain. I saw, or at least 
 believed that it was a woman, while my bosom dilated, 
 and my heart beat hard with joy, at coming once more in 
 contact with my fellow creatures. I thought what coun- 
 tries and continents I was willing to traverse, what seas 
 to cross, and what hardships to endure, to reach my dear 
 Scotland again. I put my two hands to my mouth in 
 place of a speaking trumpet, and hailed the female stranger 
 with my whole strength of lungs. But ere ever I was 
 aware or could prevent it, Nancy did the same, and sent 
 forth such a bray, that made all the rocks of that unknown 
 country ring. That being a voice the most dreadful of 
 all others to these polar inhabitants, the poor frightened 
 native fled with the swiftness of a roe, and vanished among 
 the rocks. I was for the first time provoked and angry 
 at poor Nancy, who having perceived my elevation of 
 spirits, thought it incumbent on her to have the same. I 
 threatened her angrily ; but the poor creature first pros- 
 trated herself at my feet, and then turning up her four 
 feet, she kicked and writhed as if begging pardon in the 
 most repentant manner ; on which I caressed her and 
 said, " Never mind, dear Nancy, only you are never to 
 
4 * OF ALLAN GORDON. 275 
 
 do the like again." She never caricatured me all her 
 life again. 
 
 I had observed a good while before, that there was a 
 stripe of something on the surface of the sea before me, 
 like a line of broken ice ; but I regarded it not, for my 
 glorious vessel plowed through all such like foam -balls. 
 But when I drew nearer, I perceived that it was a current 
 running through a strait, from one ocean to another, and 
 at such a rate as I had never seen a current before. I 
 am sure, at the lowest calculation, that it was running 
 at the rate of sixteen knots an hour. The broken ice, 
 drift-wood, and something like large morsels of moss, 
 were running by me with a swiftness quite incalculable. 
 Still I regarded it not, seated on my invincible mountain. 
 But before I came into this stream by a quarter of a mile, 
 I got into an eddy, which actually rolled my mountain 
 almost completely round. In this gyration some of her 
 projecting under shelves had got into the stream, which 
 sucked her in, and away I went exactly at a right angle 
 from the course I was journeying on before. This stream 
 came through a strait, between steep and rocky mountains, 
 and, by my calculation, was running from the south-west 
 to the north-east ; but this is not to be relied on. 
 The current was running at such a rate, that among the 
 floating ice it was white with foam, and roaring like a 
 flooded river. For a space of time that may have 
 amounted to weeks, I ran on with this stream ; and at 
 length I landed in another eddy, on a far larger scale, in 
 which I floated round and round I do not know how long, 
 within a diameter of about two miles. Having seen 
 nothing like any of these phenomena the preceding sum- 
 mer, I am persuaded I was then in the northern seas of 
 Asia ; and though I saw nothing like a pole, I must have 
 been far beyond it. 
 
 All this time among those rapids and whirlpools, I got 
 no fish. I had still plenty preserved in ice ; but I began 
 to long for them, fresh out of the water. Nancy never 
 looked for them. From some singular instinct she seemed 
 perfectly to understand that it was in vain. At length I 
 
276 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 saw her one day diving very often. I was on the height ; 
 and being persuaded that we were off on another tack, I 
 did not descend, but continued on the hill until I went 
 to sleep, making observations, and at length was quite 
 convinced that we were moving straight on at a steady 
 pace, and, as I judged, in a direction between south and 
 south-east, so that I became convinced I should rest or 
 be frozen still on the coast of Siberia, or Nova Zembla. 
 I sailed on and sailed on, in utter uncertainty, but with- 
 out one symptom of despair in my heart. I sang praises 
 to God, and worshipped him before I went to sleep ; and 
 as soon as I awoke, I cast myself entirely on his 
 protection, and was all submission to his will. I still 
 wanted none of the conveniences of life. With Nancy 
 and an open sea, I could never want fish ; and I was 
 occasionally laying by what I could spare for the approach- 
 ing winter. I had been saving my spirits all summer ; 
 but I was ashamed on calculating how much I had drunk 
 in less than a twelvemonth. I could not have had less 
 than forty gallons at first, of the very best, which was 
 enough in all conscience for three years ; but I had been 
 rather reckless on it at first, which now I sore repented. 
 
 I spent a part of every day teaching Nancy to under- 
 stand and obey every one of my commands ; and though 
 not a very apt scholar, she was an attentive one. When 
 she found that she had done any thing that drew forth 
 my approbation, she never forgot that again. She swam 
 for every thing I threw into the sea, carried burdens 
 cheerfully, while her sagacious looks proved an agreeable 
 conversation to me in absence of all others. 
 
 I came once more in sight of land, still on my left 
 hand, so that it behooved to be another continent, as I 
 was passing to the north before, and southward now. On 
 the third day I came very near the coast, and saw high 
 rugged shores, tall, precipitate mountains, which reminded 
 me of sugar loaves in a grocer's shop. The narrow val- 
 leys between were nearly free of snow, and the perpetual 
 sunshine on the country gave it rather a pleasing and 
 interesting appearance. The current was prodigious. I 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 277 
 
 was going at such a rate that the mountains appeared 
 changing their relative situations in constant succession. 
 When I next awoke from sleep, I found that I was off at 
 a tangent with another current, and had lost sight of the 
 country for ever. 
 
 About this time the fogs began to brood over the face 
 of the ocean, the sun to wear toward the horizon, and 
 from that time forth I saw no more around me, sun, moon, 
 nor stars, but journeyed on I knew not the least whither. 
 During this period Nancy added materially to our stock 
 of fish, many of which I had never seen before. I sup- 
 pose they were dog-fish, and cat-fish, and sea- wolves, &c. ; 
 however, I cleaned them all in the best manner I was 
 able, and laid them up in a state where I was sure of their 
 perfect preservation. Unless when employed with some 
 little thing of this nature, I either lay and dozed, read 
 my bible, which I got mostly by heart, or conversed with 
 Nancy. She was not only a most useful slave, but a 
 social and agreeable companion. The only thing that I 
 regretted, she was growing far too big. 
 
 The hulk of the Anne Forbes still continued in the 
 same position without the least alteration ; and though I 
 often slept in my crystal cave in summer, I drew into my 
 old cabin as winter approached, for my anteroom at the 
 cavern had been all melted away during the summer 
 months, and it was grown quite imperfect. 
 
 The next change I met with was the hearing of a great 
 rushing noise like a tempest, which astonished me not a 
 little, as the frost-fog was sitting as dense and. calm as ever. 
 I could not even perceive a movement in it, nor any altera- 
 tion of the ocean. I climbed the mountain; but there all 
 was dense and calm, and the roaring sound not nearly so pal- 
 pable to the sense. I descended again, slept, and wakened, 
 and still the sound grew louder and louder. This to me 
 being quite incomprehensible, I was bewildered in unde- 
 finable terror, not knowing what phenomenon was next 
 to overtake me- It was in vain that I climbed the hill 
 and came down again, I could see nothing, and still the 
 sound increased. Nancy never regarded it, but watched 
 i. 2 A 
 
278 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 for fish always when not asleep ; and numbers boiling up 
 in our wake, she did not miss to improve her chances, 
 never, I believe, letting one escape that once came fairly 
 in view. 
 
 Not so with me. I was utterly dumfoundered, till at 
 length I resolved to walk round my huge mountain as far 
 as I could get, one side being perpendicular and impas- 
 sible, and when I reached that, to return. But by the 
 time I got half way round, that was to the prow of the 
 mountain, the mystery was cleared up. The new ice had 
 commenced, and a strong under current bearing this irre- 
 sistible mass with its broad base previously on it, it was 
 breaking it up with tremendous violence, louder than the 
 loudest thunder. The conflict was so fierce and awful, I 
 was glad to retreat astern in trembling amazement, and 
 commit myself once more unto Him whose mighty arm 
 alone can control the elements. 
 
 On my next awaking, the constant thundering sound 
 was changed into loud crashes, like discharges of artillery. 
 I was almost resolved not to go and witness the tur- 
 moil, for I was aware how awful it would be ; but I am 
 glad that I went and witnessed a scene with which I shall 
 never see any thing again to compare. The ice had 
 thickened to a board, several inches in thickness ; but the 
 form of this huge mountain, with its broad shelving base, 
 running in below the ice with the current, heaved up the 
 field into broad crystal flakes, which gradually rising to a 
 perpendicular position to the height of an hundred feet 
 and more, they then fell backward with a crash that made 
 the frozen ocean groan and heave. The attack and resist- 
 ance continued. Again and again was the great frozen 
 space broken up with crashes not to be equalled by any 
 thing in nature, and therefore incomparable, unless we 
 could conceive the rending of a sphere to pieces. 
 
 The ice continuing thus to be rolled up like a scroll 
 before the mountain, was heaped up before it to such a 
 height, that it at length became once more immovably 
 fixed, and all the turmoil was still. Here was another 
 instance that a kind Providence watched over me for 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 279 
 
 good. Had my valuable hulk of the Anne Forbes been 
 in front of the mountain at this time, it would not only 
 have been smashed to atoms, but covered ten feet deep 
 beneath shoals of ice ; while there on the stern, and lee 
 side of the mountain, it stood all unskaithed and snug as 
 ever. I was exceedingly thankful for this. 
 
 I had now nothing before me but a life of monotony 
 for six months, and I made up my mind to it. I took a 
 thorough review of all my store, and perceived there 
 was no danger of starvation for a time, but how long I 
 could not calculate, and from the calculation, indeed, my 
 mind revolted ; for O it is true that the Almighty once 
 said, " It is not good for man to be alone." 
 
 However, as usual, I was not suffered to be long with- 
 out some incidents of thrilling interest. An intense frost 
 set in, the fog cleared away, the stars appeared in the 
 zenith, and a beautiful blue twilight sky fringed the 
 horizon. It was so light, that I could have perceived 
 objects at a greater distance than in sunshine. I was on 
 the top of the mountain, looking all abroad, and persuaded 
 myself that I saw land right ahead, and at no great dis- 
 tance. My heart palpitated with anxiety, joy, and fear, 
 and I could scarcely sleep or eat, but kept constantly on 
 the watch at every bright interval, and still the form of 
 the hills continued the same ; so I became assured they 
 were not clouds, such as often had deceived me. 
 
 While sitting contemplating this scene with the deepest 
 interest, judge of my excitation when the report of a gun 
 reached my ears, and, as I conceived, from the same direc- 
 tion ; at least I was sure it was not far from it, either to 
 the one side or the other. I took it for a signal gun 
 from some ship ; but what it was, or whence it came, 
 must ever remain a mystery to me. There is no doubt 
 that the interminable field of level ice would conduct the 
 sound unimpaired from an immense distance ; but to my 
 ears it sounded as quite nigh, not more than two miles. 
 I hasted from the height, seized my fowling piece and 
 some of my powder, little otherwise than a stone in 
 hardness and consistency, and as fast as I could scrape it 
 
280 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 down, I charged, and, again ascending the height, fired. 
 After my third shot, the salutation was returned with 
 a roar louder than before. I tried as well as I could 
 to imitate the signal of distress ; but judging that there 
 was no time to be lost after my first signal had been 
 answered, I hasted down once more, packed up some 
 powder and shot, victuals, and a bottle of spirits, and 
 posted off in the direction whence I deemed the sounds 
 proceeded and the land lay. 
 
 I had to take a circle to eschew the heaps of broken 
 ice before me, which put me a little off my aim ; but 
 before I went away, I had lighted a lamp in the cavern, 
 which I knew would burn for a long time, and which 
 could not be seen from any point save one, being that 
 from which the sound proceeded, and, as I thought, due 
 south. The wind was perfectly calm, the cold intense, 
 and a thick hoar frost covered the ice to the depth of 
 about three inches. Yet, though at that time the sky was 
 perfectly clear, and the stars visible in the zenith, the 
 hoar frost, or rime, as it is called in Scotland, was falling 
 very thick, the aurora borealis made it nearly as bright as 
 day, and the scene was truly beautiful, the silvery rime 
 that quivered in the atmosphere being all spangled with 
 pale rainbows, much more beautiful than a lunar one. 
 Although the falling rime was so light as not to be per- 
 ceptible to feeling, yet my budget and hat were soon 
 loaded with it. 
 
 Well, I kept looking back to my light, and firing my 
 piece all the way, posting on with what speed I was able ; 
 but a life of almost complete idleness had rendered me 
 soft and lumpish, and instead of being frozen by the cold, 
 I felt myself getting much too warm, and then I took a 
 sirpling of rum-brandy and a lick of snow alternately. I 
 lost sight of my lamp, and then had no other guide save 
 to look behind me at my track, and see that I kept always 
 on a straight line. No answer being made to my signals 
 all this time, I found I had embarked on a voyage of 
 great uncertainty ; but at length I fairly discovered a hill 
 right before me, something like Arthur's seat, and, as I 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 281 
 
 thought, other subjacent ones, so, laying other hopes 
 and uncertainties aside, I made straight for that. 
 
 I was calculating that by this time I had travelled from 
 sixteen to twenty miles, from the length of time I had 
 taken arid the fatigue I felt ; and while still making straight 
 for the hills, which I thought were not above half that 
 distance from me, I perceived Nancy a long way to the 
 right, seeming greatly interested about something, and 
 as if following a track. I turned in the same direction, 
 and to my joyful astonishment, found the traces of a 
 company amounting to from thirty to forty individuals, 
 all journeying on the same path straight for the land. I 
 had some scruples at following and joining so large a 
 body of savages, who might be cannibals for ought I 
 knew, and might flay and eat Nancy and me, even without 
 the ceremony of letting out the life blood. I knew 
 not what country I was in, whether in Europe, Asia, 
 or America. I had a sort of conviction, that after going 
 the round of all the transverse currents of the polar 
 ocean, I was again fixed on the same ground, and against 
 the same field of ice that had opposed me the preceding 
 year ; but as I had no data to go upon to ascertain this, 
 it must be viewed for the present as mere conjecture. 
 Yet this conjecture, vague as it was, encouraged me to 
 proceed, as I knew to a certainty, the year before, from 
 the mountains I had seen on my tour, that I had been 
 off the coast of Greenland, where I had heard there were 
 colonies of Christians. 
 
 Well, on I went on the track of this colony of sincere 
 and simple Christians, as I weened they must be return- 
 ing from their summer stations of hunting and fishing to 
 their winter abodes, with their families and spoils. The 
 traces of their steps were partially filled up with the 
 falling rime ; yet still I could perceive that there was a 
 mixture of large and small footsteps, of full grown and 
 young people; and thus encouraged, I posted on for 
 many miles. I had for a good while imagined that the 
 interest Nancy was taking in the pursuit was greater than 
 could well be accounted for. She was constantly stand- 
 2 A 2 
 
282 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 ing and walking on end, holding out her long nose as if 
 scenting something of mighty concern to her, and turning 
 first up the one ear and then the other, as if perceiving 
 something through the gloom. At length I came upon 
 some marks that were rather equivocal, on which I stood 
 still to consider a little. I went on. A man hotly en- 
 gaged in any pursuit does not like to turn from it all at 
 once. I stooped down, and took the light hoar frost 
 carefully from several of the footmarks. O, they were 
 the steps of human beings, there was no doubt of it. 
 There were the five toes, the ball of the foot, and the 
 heel, all as apparent as the sun at noonday. But then I 
 thought again, that that inapt simile might have been 
 suggested by divine Providence ; for, in the first place, 
 there was no sun and no noonday there ; and, moreover, 
 how was it possible the people of that country could travel 
 over ice and snow barefooted? That certainly was im- 
 practicable ; for their toes would be all frost-bitten, and 
 their journeying quickly at an end. Still I went blindly 
 on, hardly knowing what I was doing, thinking, or where 
 going, till I perceived that Nancy had run off and left me 
 on the track; and then straining my sight forward, I 
 perceived on a rising ground, that must have been a 
 shore, a whole herd of white bears, all turned with their 
 faces towards me, waiting her approach with the news. 
 I saw some of them standing upright, larger than the 
 largest giants; and certainly I never got such a fright 
 since I was born of my mother. I durst not run for fear 
 of being pursued by the whole herd, and torn to pieces. 
 I durst not call on my favourite and best friend, for fear 
 of being discovered, in case I was still undiscovered; and 
 as I dared not either advance or retreat, I squatted down 
 on the ice, and wished myself under it. 
 
 There I lay for a considerable space, peeping over my 
 hands like a setter on a dead point, and my heart beating 
 against the ice with audible thumps, till at length the 
 monsters came all off in a body toward me. There was no 
 more time for me to lie praying there, so I sprang to my 
 feet, and ran. Yes, I ran with a swiftness which the 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 283 
 
 extreme of terror only could have impelled me to effect. 
 I flew without looking behind me, and actually thought I 
 was outspeeding the best polar bear, till a certain noise 
 that I heard behind me compelled me to look over my 
 shoulder, when I perceived two bears in close pursuit of 
 me. I flung my wallet of provisions, and my remaining 
 bottle of rum, from me, and held on, having then nothing 
 but my gun, which was loaded, and my long dirk. The 
 two bears seemed to be quarrelling ; but whether quar- 
 relling or junketting I had not time to distinguish, till 
 they came to my wallet, at which they paused, and tear- 
 ing the wallet, they soon devoured my victuals. I then, 
 with the most extravagant joy, perceived that the lesser 
 one of the twain was Nancy, and my terror greatly was 
 abated ; for I thought, with her and my loaded gun, and 
 long knife, I was a match for this single monster at any 
 rate. 
 
 Still I durst not call on Nancy ; but being quite out- 
 spent with running, I paused to gather breath, and look 
 at the two. The large wild monster took up the bottle 
 of rum, smelled it, and turned it over, seeming greatly 
 taken with it ; when Nancy, with perfect sang froid, 
 snatched it from him, drew the cork with her teeth, and 
 setting the bottle to her mouth, took apparently a long 
 pull of the spirits, and then handed it to her travelling 
 companion. He took the bottle, set it to his mouth, and, 
 as I thought, drank about the half of it. To describe his 
 motions and looks, at that stage of his progress, is impos- 
 sible. He held up his nose at an angle of forty-five, shot 
 out his long red tongue and licked his chops, and ever 
 and anon cast the most eloquent looks to Nancy. He 
 seemed both delighted and astonished, and would not part 
 with the bottle again, although Nancy tried to attain it 
 by every wile and quirk she could invent. No, he would 
 not part with it; but wheeling always round with his 
 back to her, took another pull, till he finished it ; and 
 many a turn up he gave the empty bottle before he threw 
 it away in a rage, because it would not produce any more. 
 
 He then fell a dancing and bobbing on his hams most 
 
284 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 potently ; and never was drunkenness better portrayed. 
 He nodded his head from side to side, and cut capers 
 innumerable, while Nancy, exhilarated by the novelty of 
 the scene, stood straight up on her hind feet, and waltzed 
 around him. He would needs do the same ; but then, 
 at every whisk and every embrace she gave him, he 
 tumbled over at full length, till, finally, after several 
 ineffectual efforts to rise, he groaned, stretched out his 
 limbs, and lay still. I had easily foreseen what the con- 
 sequences would be, knowing the potency of my liquor 
 from experience ; so I kept my station, determined to 
 kill the monster as soon as he grew incapable of defence. 
 
 Nancy manifestly anticipated this. She came running 
 to me, fawned, and led the way back again ; and to show 
 me that he was incapable of moving, she scraped him 
 with her foot, and then jumped upon him ; but all that 
 she could elicit was a groan. I had my gun loaded with 
 two balls ; but for all that, when I saw the inordinate 
 size and strength of the monster, I took fright, and durst 
 not fire. I paced his length as he lay stretched. I de- 
 clare, with perfect seriousness, he was within a foot of 
 four yards, and his body as thick as a two years' old bull. 
 I durst not shoot for my life, though I had the muzzle of 
 the gun twice at his ear, for I knew not what such a 
 monster might do in a last struggle. One blow of his 
 paw, or one craunch with his teeth, would have finished 
 my course ; so upon the whole, I thought my safest plan 
 was to leave him asleep, and make my escape ; which I 
 did. I have often thought it was a cowardly action; but 
 I did it, and lived to repent it. 
 
 My situation was now any thing but enviable. I had 
 fled with such precipitancy, that I had lost all traces of 
 my path back to my castle. My own track would have 
 been a sort of guide to me ; but I knew not where to 
 find it. Besides, 1 had neither meat nor drink, and was 
 still uncertain about the pursuit of the bears after me. I 
 had no dependence save on Nancy, who was so much 
 taken up with the drunken monster we had left behind, 
 that I could scarce make her attend to any thing else. 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 285 
 
 Although it is very unnatural to suppose it, I am certain 
 she wanted me to kill him ; for when I left him whole 
 and sound, her looks of disappointment were quite mani- 
 fest. After travelling several miles with me in gloomy 
 discontent, she returned and hastened back again ; and as 
 she and I had been accustomed to kill every thing that 
 came in our way, I had no doubt that she was gone back 
 to worry a monster three times as large- and strong as 
 herself. 
 
 I was now in a most woful case, having lost my only 
 guide, who I knew could have led me home as easily as I 
 could have gone from Huntly to the carse of Strathbogie. 
 I was hungry, I was thirsty, and overcome with sleep and 
 fatigue, yet was still speeding on I knew not whither. I 
 had only one stay wherein to trust ; but it was the best, 
 and one that never yet had failed me, even in perils of 
 shipwreck and death. I kneeled on the snow-covered 
 ice, and prayed to God to direct and save me. I did 
 this shortly, for I was afraid of falling asleep, in which 
 case I was gone ; but the moment I rose, I found myself 
 strengthened and revived. More than that ; when I rose 
 I was a little jumbled about the line I behooved to pursue; 
 and examining the one I had come, I had a strong im- 
 pression it was not the right one. This irresistible 
 impulse was, I am certain, impressed upon my heart by a 
 divine Providence ; for though I almost went off at a 
 tangent to the right, I had not journeyed an hour ere I 
 came on my own backward track, which, though a little 
 filled up with hoar frost, was still visible. I never was 
 more happy at any relief than this ; and I did not fail to 
 testify my grateful thanks to heaven for the happy deliv- 
 erance. O let never mortal man despair, for he may 
 depend on this, that whether in the noisy crowd or on 
 the lonely waste, he is in the hands of the Almighty, 
 who can direct or leave him to himself as he sees meet. 
 For me, in all my perils, and they have been many, 
 I have ever trusted in the Lord, and have never trusted 
 in vain. 
 
 I now hied me on with a cheerfulness and eagerness 
 
2SC SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 that were too much for my ability, hungry and fatigued 
 as I was ; but I knew where I was going, and had hopes 
 that I was near my secure but solitary home. The want 
 of Nancy preyed heavily on my heart. No man alive could 
 miss a partner more than I did, for I found I could not 
 subsist without her. If I had had her that night to have 
 spoken to and leaned upon, I felt how happy I would have 
 been, and how helpless I was without her. I grew ex- 
 ceedingly fatigued, and began to eat snow incessantly. 
 This did me ill, for my joints lost their power, and sleep 
 quite overcame me ; and though I knew that to lie down 
 on the ice was death, I felt an irresistible inclination to do 
 it. I actually laid me down, though I knew it was the 
 sleep of death ; but a better resolution aroused me. I 
 stood on my knees, and leaned my head and arm on the 
 muzzle of my gun, thus getting some momentary sleeps ; 
 and then, whenever I was getting too sound asleep with 
 the benumbing frost, I fell over, which wakened me. 
 
 These temporary restings refreshed me. I could walk 
 three or four hundred yards after them at first with con- 
 siderable agility ; but then I could not give over eating 
 snow, and my stages continued to become shorter and 
 shorter. My track was still visible, and that was all ; and 
 I now came to some broken ice, which raised my spirits, 
 as I remembered of none save that plowed up by the 
 prow of my ice-mountain. At that very time I heard a 
 sort of noise coming along the ice ; but although it was 
 very light for that region, I could see nothing, owing to 
 the frost, rime, and the dazzling whiteness. I heard it 
 approaching still, like the galloping of horses, accompanied 
 occasionally with a growling murmur. I made all the 
 speed I could ; but, alas ! I fear I made but poor pro- 
 gress, for my strength was gone. At length, hearing the 
 sounds close behind me, I looked back, and beheld a bear 
 coming on me full speed. It was soon kneeling at my 
 feet, and licking my hand. It was Nancy bleeding. She 
 instantly turned about, set up her angry birses, and went 
 slowly and doubtfully back, as determined on an unequal 
 battle. After straining my sight through the rime, I 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 287 
 
 perceived a gigantic bear standing on end, like a tall 
 obelisk covered with snow. Any one may guess how 
 my heart fainted within me ; but I cocked my gun and 
 tried to run on. My power was exhausted ; I could do 
 no more. Nancy tried to oppose the monster by throw- 
 ing herself always in before him ; but she durst not 
 apparently seize him. He was a male, and partly a gentle- 
 man, for he would not bite or tear her ; but he sometimes 
 gave her a cuff with his paw to make her keep out of his 
 way. I tried several times to take aim at him, but found 
 it impossible without shooting Nancy ; so that all I could 
 do was to run on, until fairly exhausted, I fell flat on my 
 face. The strife continued, and approached close to my 
 heels, and instantly I found myself grasped, and one of 
 the bears above me. I could make no exertion ; but I 
 soon discovered that it was poor Nancy trying to cover 
 me with her own body from the dreadful death that 
 awaited me. The monster struggled to reach my neck, 
 while my defender clung to me so closely that I was 
 nearly strangled. His strength was overpowering; he 
 forced his head in below her, and I felt first his cold nose 
 and then his warm lips close to my throat. I called out, 
 " Seize him !" the words that I used for baiting on Nancy, 
 and which she always promptly obeyed, on which she 
 gave him such a snap, that not only made him desist, 
 but growl like a bull. Still he would neither lay mouth 
 nor paw upon her, one of those rare and beautiful instances 
 of the sublimity of natural instinct, of which there are so 
 many among the brutal creation. 
 
 The monster growled, and went round and round, and 
 at length made his attack at the same point again ; and in 
 trying to reach my neck, he seized me by the left arm, 
 close below the shoulder. I called out furiously to Nancy, 
 who that moment seized the gigantic monster by the 
 throat with her teeth and paws at the same moment. He 
 flew away from me, and swung her round and round like 
 a clout, bellowing fearfully ; but quit her gripe she would 
 not. He seized her with his paws, hugged her, and 
 threw her down ; but all this while never made a motion 
 
288 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 to tear her. He squeezed her so strait that I saw the 
 white of her eyes begin to turn up. I then, with all the 
 speed and precision my wounded arm would admit of, 
 held the muzzle of the gun to his ear and fired ; and yet, 
 owing to the violent motion he made, none of the two 
 bullets went through the brain, but one at the root of the 
 jaw, and the other between that and the eye. The shot 
 took away the power of doing any hurt with his mouth ; 
 but his paws continued to embrace Nancy with a deadly 
 grasp, she still keeping a fast hold of his throat. I then 
 stabbed him to the heart again and again ; and though 
 the blood streamed through the snow as if a sluice had 
 been opened, it was amazing how tenacious the monster 
 was of life. But at length he slackened his hold, and 
 rolled over and over on the ice. Still he was not dead ; 
 but as soon as Nancy got free, I embraced her, and feeble 
 and overworn almost to death, with her at my side to lean 
 upon, I made my escape to my old hulk, the welcomest 
 sight I had ever seen. 
 
 I barricaded my en trance- window, fed Nancy, eat some 
 raw frozen fish myself, drank a little rum-brandy, and 
 then took a short and troubled sleep ; but before I did 
 any of these save the first, I kneeled down and thanked 
 my kind Maker and Preserver for this most wonderful 
 deliverance. I then kindled a good fire of coals and 
 driftwood, of which I had collected great store during 
 summer ; and having plenty of ice in the hold, I warmed 
 a pot of water, bathed and dressed my arm, which was 
 sore lacerated; I then washed and bathed Nancy all over. 
 Her shoulders were a little lacerated and swelled from 
 the grasps of the monster's paws ; but saving that, there 
 was no wound upon her. I dried her with a cloth, 
 combed her, and made her as clean as a bride ; and though 
 she licked my hand and my wound, and was as kind and 
 gentle as ever, I could not help observing, with pain and 
 ,a share of terror, that there was a gloomy gleam in her 
 eye which I had never witnessed before. Her look was 
 quite altered. It was heavy, sullen, and drowsy ; but 
 when she looked up, there was something like a glare of 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 289 
 
 madness in it. This was the most distressing circum- 
 stance of all to me ; and though I suspected it was from 
 the heat of irritation to which she had been driven by the 
 deadly combat with one of her own species, and one that 
 had followed her too for love, still it was the same to me, 
 who was obliged to abide by the consequences. 
 
 We had slept in the same bed ever since we met ; but 
 gladly would I have dispensed with her company that 
 night. Still I had not the heart to separate her from 
 me per force, as she sat nid-nodding and casting imploring 
 looks for me to go to bed ; so we went into the closet 
 together, as usual, although I was not at all at my ease. 
 Nancy was in the same state ; she tossed, and tumbled, 
 and groaned, whereas she was wont to lie as quiet as a 
 lamb. At length she laid her left paw over me, above 
 the clothes, and seemed to fall sound asleep ; but in about 
 ten minutes after she gave me such a hug, that it had 
 nearly deprived me of breath. I made no motion, no 
 resistance, but suffered patiently, though in agony both 
 of body and mind ; and I acted wisely, for in a short 
 while after her hold relaxed, and she again tossed herself 
 over, and fell asleep. 
 
 I then rose as quietly as I could, stole out to the cabin, 
 and locked the door, and making myself up a bed in my 
 late captain's hammock, I slept apart, though ill at ease. 
 I heard no more noise or disturbance, all remaining quiet ; 
 so I lay and rested myself I know not how long. When 
 I next arose, urged by hunger, I peeped in to Nancy, after 
 much fear and solicitude, thinking she was dead. She 
 had taken the round form, and was lying with her limbs 
 folded, and her nose in below her flank. I at once per- 
 ceived, that with the late exertion and a hearty meal, she 
 was falling into the torpid state ; and that the hug of the 
 preceding night (which I am always disposed to call the 
 time allotted for sleep) had been the result of a dis- 
 turbed dream about her late combat ; so I heaped clothes 
 above her, of which I had plenty, and left her to her 
 repose ; and if I calculated any thing aright from the 
 i. 2 B 
 
290 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 sleeps I took, each one of which I estimated as a night, 
 she lay snug in that state for three months. 
 
 I visited her once or twice every day ; and though I 
 could not distinguish her breathing, nor feel the play of 
 her lungs, the dull heat of her body continued the same, 
 which assured me she was not dead, but sleeping. That 
 was a wearisome time for me, and save the skinning and 
 cutting up of my great white bear, absolutely void of 
 adventures. He was as fat as a fed bullock, and his flesh 
 tasted very much like that of a he-goat ; having been 
 completely blooded, it was white and clean, and a great 
 treat. He had as much tallow as loaded me for one 
 jaunt; and I judged his carcass to be about thirty stones, 
 Aberdeen weight. 
 
 It proved a severe winter, much stormier than the last ; 
 and there was one morning I perceived that my smoke 
 would not vent, and, behold, on opening up my window, 
 I found myself covered up with snow to a depth of which 
 I could form no calculation. It had been a great snow- 
 drift, and the hulk having been on the lee side of the 
 mountain, I was completely covered in. I soon, how- 
 ever, opened up a vent for the smoke, and then I had a 
 snug warm abode for the remainder of the winter. 
 
 I read much on my bible during this lonely season, 
 and got a great part of it by heart. By that, I mean the 
 historical parts. I could name to myself all the kings of 
 Israel and Judah, how long each of them reigned, and all 
 the battles they lost or won. I could go over the judges 
 of Israel, in the same way, with the twelve tribes and the 
 numbers of each. I had, besides, particular favourites, 
 and could recite every word concerning them. Benjamin 
 was my favourite tribe for spirit and bravery, and Jonathan 
 my favourite character of the whole scripture catalogue. 
 
 But if I read much, I thought more of my singular 
 destiny and condition, and what it behooved me to do. 
 Was I to try once more to reach the abodes of humanity, 
 see my own species face to face, and. enjoy that social 
 intercourse for which the human heart and affections are 
 so peculiarly framed ? Or was I to remain there where I 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 291 
 
 was, and traverse the arctic regions on an iceberg all the 
 days of my life, subjected, without remede, to all the 
 caprices of the elements, the storms, and the currents of 
 the ocean ? After balancing these things in my mind for 
 months, I could not decide which to fix on. My present 
 life was one of such romance, that if I could have been 
 certified that at any future period I should escape to give 
 a relation of it, I would have chosen to remain for the 
 present. I was far from being unhappy, and I had no 
 dread of a shipwreck, believing my floating mountain 
 impregnable against all shocks, currents, or tornados. I 
 had, moreover, a companion, which was really of more 
 value to me than any one of my own species could have 
 been in such circumstances, as well as more attached and 
 subservient ; and, altogether, I considered that I had more 
 real enjoyment than the one half of mankind. There 
 was only one thing that distressed me ; should I chance, 
 by accident or disease, to be deprived of Nancy, then I 
 would be left helpless and stayless, and likely perish of 
 hunger. This was a terrible prospect ; so by the time 
 the sun began to show his disk above the horizon, I had 
 half and more resolved to make a pilgrimage over the ice 
 in search of some inhabited country. 
 
 My next great concern was to waken Nancy ; but that 
 for a long time I found quite impracticable. She continued 
 not only sound asleep, but perfectly rigid. At length, by 
 blowing tobacco smoke into her nose, I awakened her. 
 She fell into a violent fit of sneezing ; and then I took 
 care not to let her fall asleep again. She was perfectly 
 weak and tangle,* her limbs being scarcely able to bear 
 her weight ; and when she first went out to roll among 
 the snow, her favourite exercise, she could not turn her- 
 self round. But she increased in strength and spirits not 
 only every day, but every hour, and was soon as frisky, 
 as gentle, and kind as ever. I am almost ashamed to 
 acknowledge how much I enjoyed the society of this 
 devoted and delightful creature ; for though she could 
 not speak, there was a language in her eye that told 
 
 * Lank. 
 
292 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 every thing, and she knew every word that I said to her. 
 I looked on her as a treasure sent me by Heaven in a 
 most wonderful way, and really loved her. 
 
 My thoughts were now employed night and day about 
 my journey; for though I knew the ice would not break 
 up for a long time, I thought it best, now that I had day- 
 light all the twenty-four hours, to perform my journey 
 before there was even a chance of the ice breaking up ; 
 accordingly, I made preparations for many days, washing, 
 drying, cooking, and packing up. It is needless to enu- 
 merate all the miscellaneous things that I thought necessary 
 to take with me ; but, in short, I loaded myself and Nancy 
 heavily, very heavily, knowing that our loads would con- 
 stantly be turning lighter, and then I left my old com- 
 fortable cabin, and my mountain of ice, with many bitter 
 tears, all uncertain whether or not I should ever see it 
 again, or any other home in this world. I never had 
 wept so sore all my life as I did on setting out that time, 
 while Nancy went rock rocking with her load, and ever 
 and anon casting the most piteous looks at my face. 
 
 Away we jogged in this manner, holding our course, as 
 nearly as I could guess, to the south south-west. The 
 mountains towards which I had journeyed before were 
 quite visible ; but I called that land, in my own mind, 
 The Bear Island ; and believing it inhabited by a whole 
 colony of bears, I left it on the left hand, and held on. 
 It seemed to be a long rugged island, stretching from 
 west to east, but not very wide from north to south, for, 
 as nearly as I could judge, I had passed it in the space of 
 three days. 
 
 But new adventures still awaited me, and, all at 
 once, I met with one of the utmost consequence. 
 Having, as I said, just passed the south-west corner of 
 this country, which I had named, in my own mind, The 
 Bear Island, I unexpectedly came upon the traces of 
 three men and a number of dogs. Their footmarks were 
 so large that I believed them to be giants, and, at first, 
 knew not what to do ; but perceiving that their steps 
 were not longer than my own, I was convinced they wore 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 293 
 
 snow shoes, took courage, and determined to follow them ; 
 which I did, and in a few hours reached the shore. There 
 I came to a spot where the men had rested, and fed them- 
 selves and their dogs, and my heart lightened with joy. 
 I now knew not what to do, but, in order to overtake 
 them, it was necessary to leave my luggage, or the greater 
 part of it. But what I was to do with Nancy, that puz- 
 zled me worst of all. She was an indiscriminate destroyer, 
 and I knew all the dogs would suffer first, and, in all 
 probability, the men next ; so that, in fact, with her I 
 was not fit to approach the walks of humanity. Some- 
 thing behooved to be done ; so I made a muzzle for her 
 of strong cord, and taking a bottle of Highland whisky 
 with me, and some provisions, I set out on the track of 
 the three men, and followed most eagerly ; but all that I 
 could do, I could not restrain Nancy from leaving me on 
 the scent of their track. I durst not let her go muzzled, 
 else they would worry her, and kill her at once, and she 
 was the whole of my world's inheritance. I durst not let 
 her go unmuzzled, lest she might devour them all ; so I 
 was obliged to fasten on the muzzle, put a cord to it, and 
 lead her. She liked this very ill, and even tried to get 
 loose by pulling the muzzle off with her paws ; but my 
 commands restrained her, although she continued to look 
 at me with apparent astonishment and dejection. I said 
 all the kind things to her that b could, told her she was 
 still my own dear Nancy ; but added many a time, " O 
 you must not, must not." She cowered in subjection, 
 and walked peaceably by my side. 
 
 I soon came to a place where the three men had all 
 separated. I followed the steps of the middle one ; but 
 these were so irregular, up hill and down hill, that it was 
 a most fatiguing task ; and, besides, all the snow on the 
 south sides of the hills was becoming softened with the 
 sun, and there were here and there small black patches from 
 which the snow had melted altogether. These I found 
 to be mostly rocks or precipices. I was obliged to rest 
 often, and slept several times in the sun ; but I always fas- 
 tened Nancy to my arm, for fear of her making her escape. 
 2 B 2 
 
294 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 After I had travelled about fourteen or fifteen hours, 
 I came to a place where the three men had all met again, 
 rested, and refreshed themselves ; and there was a great 
 deal of blood upon the snow, from which I concluded they 
 were hunters, and had killed some game; and, more- 
 over, I perceived, from some herbaceous garbage scattered 
 about, that they had been feeding their dogs on the nombles 
 of a deer. Here I took a short sleep and some refresh- 
 ment, there being a spring gushing out of a rock like a 
 mill-lead, and likewise fed Nancy, who was always going 
 scenting among the blood and offal. At length she fixed 
 upon a spot between two rocks, and fell a scraping, where 
 I soon discovered a store of venison, covered over with 
 snow, which was trampled firm over and all about it. 
 From this I perceived that this spring was the rendezvous 
 of the hunters, and to meet with them I had only to 
 remain where I was. With what anxiety of heart did I 
 pass these few hours, all uncertain as I was whether I 
 stood on the shores of Asia, Europe, or America; or 
 whether I would fall among savage cannibals or civilized 
 Christians. Sometimes I laid me down, seeking in vain 
 for some repose ; and sometimes stalked about, looking 
 all around me. 
 
 Perhaps I did not wait there many hours, but they 
 seemed to me like as many days, such a feverish anxiety 
 had taken possession of my mind. It was at length 
 relieved by the approach of six strong dogs coming all up 
 hill, baying upon me in the most furious manner. This 
 was a trying situation, as I was desirous of neither suffer- 
 ing skaith nor giving offence. But an expedient struck 
 me in a moment, one which I had often amused myself 
 with in youth, and never knew it fail, not even with 
 a chained mastiff. I drew my coat tails over my head, 
 stooped, and ran forward to meet them. The scheme 
 succeeded like a charm ; for after uttering a few short 
 barks of terror, they all turned tail and fled as the devil 
 had been chasing them. These canine hunters had left 
 their masters a little astern, in order to have a rummage 
 among their precious fragments, when they were thus 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 295 
 
 discomfited, and chased back faster than they had ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 The astonishment and terror of their masters may well 
 be conceived when they thus met their dauntless assistants 
 retreating with looks of such wild dismay. They knew 
 there were no herd of bears yet awake on the island, and 
 they could form no conception of any thing else save some 
 supernatural being of horrid presence. The flying dogs 
 vanished over a sharp ridge of the hill ; and as I conceived 
 myself still only waging war with them, I hasted over 
 after them in the same attitude. I was clothed in my late 
 captain's Sunday, or best suit, and had the tails of my 
 superfine blue coat drawn over my head, which was bowed 
 nearly as low as my knees, and my hat I held out from 
 me with my left hand, and led Nancy with the right. In 
 this mode was I first introduced to my new associates, 
 and that too without knowing it, till hearing the frightened 
 bark of the dogs once more close below me in the ravine, 
 I peeped through the cleft of my coat, and perceived 
 masters and dogs flying amain, the latter leading the 
 way, barking in downright terror, and the men cock- 
 ing their heads and brattling after them. I instantly 
 assumed my natural shape, and hallooed out after them 
 to stop and take a friend with them. They turned round, 
 gaping and staring, but durst not wait the encounter ; and 
 although they called something in return, which I believed 
 was my own native tongue, yet as I approached, they 
 turned and fled once more. The seeing of a human 
 creature coming on them in the company of a white bear, 
 the only creature of which they stood in perpetual dread, 
 was too much for their comprehension. But the terror 
 of the dogs was that which most of all convinced them 
 that I was not an earthly creature ; so they took to their 
 heels, and I had no other shift but to pursue. 
 
 This made matters still worse ; for their snow shoes 
 kept them above the snow, whereas every step that I took 
 I sunk at least half a foot, the surface being thawed on 
 all the south sides of the hills. I lost ground, of course, 
 terribly, and was obliged to give up the pursuit and return. 
 
296 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 At the place where they took first to flight, they had 
 dropped a bear's hide and some wallets of bear's flesh and 
 grease. On these I made seizure, and carrying them 
 piecemeal to the spring, deposited them with the rest of 
 their spoil. Assured, then, that they would come back 
 to that place, if not through hunger, at least for the fruits 
 of their severe labour, I hid myself among some rocks 
 hard by, from which the sun had melted the snow, to 
 watch their motions. 
 
 They were long in returning, at least I thought so, 
 for I slept twice with Nancy in my bosom. Having 
 become inured to the climate, and having, likewise, a 
 bearskin jacket, and drawers next my flesh, I could now 
 sleep any where without inconvenience or danger. 
 I was at length awakened by Nancy struggling to get 
 away, and on coming to my senses, I heard people speak- 
 ing ; and on peeping over the rock, I saw the three men 
 standing over their prey, in earnest conversation, and 
 apparently astonished at finding all their prey carefully 
 deposited together. The dogs still kept at a due distance, 
 the only thing I saw which kept them still jealous. An 
 effort behooved to be made. I drew myself up to the 
 verge of the cliff over which I was peeping, and at once, 
 on my knees, implored them, for Jesus Christ's sake, to 
 take me under their protection. They knew the name, 
 and each of them took off his fur cap and kneeled on his 
 right knee. Whenever Nancy appeared on the cliff, the 
 dogs once more took to their heels. The men were just 
 about to follow, when I called out again, naming the same 
 sacred name with great emphasis. They paused, and 
 pointed to the bear, saying something. I held up the 
 cord to show them that she was muzzled and chained ; 
 and ordering her, she cowered at my feet, and kissed my 
 hand. In all my life I never saw three such statues of 
 astonishment as these three men were on seeing this. 
 They gaped and stared on one another, spoke a few words, 
 and then prostrated themselves on the snow, taking me 
 for a divine being. I saw this manifestly, and resolved 
 to keep up a sort of dignity, as far as I was able, for my 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 297 
 
 own behoof. They lay on their bellies wallowing in the 
 snow, until I came to them, when, perceiving one of them 
 with gray hairs, I lifted him up first to his knees, and 
 laying my hand on his crown, I blessed him in the name 
 of the Holy Trinity. He seemed to understand some- 
 thing of the import of the blessing, for he embraced my 
 knees. I blessed the other two in the same manner, and 
 then lifting up my eyes and hands to heaven, I prayed 
 fervently that God would bless and sanctify our meeting, 
 and our communion and fellowship with one another while 
 it continued. I then showed them my half bible, and 
 made them look on it ; but they shook their heads, and 
 did not comprehend the meaning of it. But when I 
 named Moses, and David, and Solomon, and Jesus Christ, 
 they held up their hands in admiration, named them after 
 me, and then took the book, kissed it, and pressed it to 
 their bosoms. We were now friends ; and they seemed, 
 from the deference they paid me, to consider themselves 
 as my sworn subjects. I then took out my brandy bottle, 
 and a small crystal glass without the shaft, that I carried 
 in my pocket, and filling it, I drank to their good healths, 
 and then gave each of them a glass, which they all emptied. 
 They then smacked their lips, and stared at one another 
 in astonishment, till one of the young men, feeling its 
 salutary effects on his cold stomach, screamed and jumped 
 for joy. 
 
 We were now friends, and sat down to eat together, 
 I of some potted bear's flesh, which I carried, and they 
 of some haberdine and raw flesh. We then packed up 
 for our departure, they having secured as much food as 
 they could convey, although they took care to carry no 
 bones. They gave the dogs these for their share, after 
 having sliced the flesh neatly off them, which they stuffed 
 into sealskin bags, and then yoking the dogs to these in 
 pairs, they trailed them with great swiftness over the snow. 
 While the dogs were gnawing at their bones, one of the 
 largest and fiercest flew at Nancy, who was muzzled ; but 
 with one blow of her paw, she made him tumble heels 
 over head, roaring like a bull. One of the men bent his 
 
298 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 bow, and was going to shoot the dog ; but I interfered, 
 and made signs for them to muzzle the dogs, which they 
 did, and then wo journeyed together in peace; I likewise 
 having Nancy woll loaded with their provision, which they 
 admired exceedingly. 
 
 My great anxiety now was, to learn what country I was 
 in ; but it was long before I could understand this. I was 
 sure I had fallen among Christians, but where I knew 
 not. I was very ignorant of the polar countries ; and 
 though I knew some of their names, I knew nothing of 
 their inhabitants. When these three men spoke to one 
 another at a little distance from me, I could not believe 
 my senses that they were not speaking broad Aberdeen, 
 or rather Shetland Scots, the tone and manner were so 
 exactly the same ; and yet, when they spoke to me, I 
 could not understand them, though convinced it was a 
 dialect of the same language. The only country which 
 I could name that seemed to impress them, or that they 
 understood, was Norroway. At the name of that country, 
 which they repeated, calling it Norgeway, I observed that 
 they sometimes crossed their hands and looked up to heaven. 
 I believed then that I was on an island, somewhere off the 
 coast of Norroway, and that these three men had come 
 from that country to hunt. I made them repeat the name 
 of the place where we were again and again, and the name 
 they gave it sounded to me like "Jean Main's Land." 
 Having never heard of such a place, I remained in the 
 dark. 
 
 When we came to my luggage, the sun being warm, 
 we rested long, and slept ; and the men let me under- 
 stand that we had to provide for a long journey. Accord- 
 ingly, we set out on the ice once more, and the dogs 
 easing us greatly of our baggage, we travelled at a great 
 rate ; yet, as nearly as I could guess, we journeyed for a 
 space of time equal to three days and three nights, without 
 a change of scene, straight along the level surface, the 
 dogs knowing the road perfectly well, and always running 
 on before us. I at length beheld the open sea, and mar- 
 velled greatly, thinking our journey was now coming to 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 299 
 
 a very abrupt and woful termination. The men, however, 
 seemed nothing daunted, but, as far as I could judge, 
 were getting rather into better spirits, and were occasion- 
 ally pointing out some place, of which I saw nothing but 
 a blue calm sea, basking in endless sunshine for the 
 present. We at length came to two canoes and a boat, 
 lying on the ice near to the verge of the open sea. The 
 boat was for carrying the dogs and one man, and the 
 canoes for a man each. The latter were covered with 
 sealskin, which belted round the occupier's waist that no 
 water could touch him, neither could the canoe sink. I 
 had never seen one before, and wondered that men could 
 go into an open sea in such trifling little things that one 
 might carry below his arm. There was a good deal of 
 demur how Nancy and I were to be accommodated among 
 the dogs ; but as the dogs were perfectly obedient, each 
 of the men took two dogs below the leather of his canoe, 
 and I was deposited in the bottom of the small boat made 
 of skin, driftwood, and bones of fishes ; and there, with 
 Nancy in my bosom, I was forbid to move for fear of 
 oversetting the frail bark. The sea was as smooth as a 
 mirror ; and I am convinced that we glided over it with 
 great celerity. The canoes kept ahead, but they were 
 always hailing one another in a cheering strain ; and at 
 length I perceived mountains spotted with snow straight 
 before us. We had been journeying, as well as sailing, 
 nearly south-west ; and how to reconcile this country 
 with Norway I could not divine. Yet I had hopes that 
 it was Norway, and that I was among the native simple 
 Christians of that country, and would soon find a convey- 
 ance from the southern parts of it to my dear native 
 country. 
 
 We at length arrived on another coast, and were met 
 upon the shore by twelve young people, which turned 
 out to be women, though I could not distinguish at the 
 time to which sex they belonged. The grayheaded man 
 first kissed them all, and then harangued them, introduc- 
 ing me to them, on which every one of them came to me, 
 the eldest first, and apparently all the rest in succession, 
 
300 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 according to their ages, kneeled to me, embraced my 
 knees, and received my blessing and a kiss ; and, in fact, 
 never was poor forlorn stranger made more welcome. 
 The two eldest women gave me each a hand, and with 
 six on each side, the youngest outermost, they conducted 
 me to their habitation, the elderly hunter walking before 
 us, and the two younger behind us ; and at the entrance 
 to their habitation we were received by an old man, with 
 hair and a beard as white as the driven snow. He was 
 the patriarch of the little colony, and their priest ; and I 
 was instructed, by signs and words, to kneel and receive 
 his blessing, which I did, and was then conducted in, and 
 welcomed by many tokens of veneration. 
 
 It was a strange place. The outer apartments were 
 built and vaulted with snow ; but, besides these, there 
 was a long natural cavern stretching under the rocks, that 
 seemed once to have been a seam of limestone from roots 
 of large stalactites that appeared on its roof ; but time, 
 and thaws after frosts, had wasted it away. There were, 
 beside this, many irregular side apartments, in one of 
 which my bed was made, which was a good one ; and 
 there Nancy and I were left to our repose, and a more 
 sound sleep I never enjoyed. 
 
 The colony consisted of thirty-one women and ten 
 men, including the aged father ; the rest of the men had 
 perished at sea, or in bear-hunting. Beside these there 
 were seven children, two of whom only were boys ; so 
 that a stout healthy young man, such as I was, certainly 
 was as high a boon as heaven could have sent them in 
 one individual, though a whaler's whole crew would doubt- 
 less have been more welcome. There were other three 
 men arrived at the settlement that night, who brought a 
 seal and some sea lions for the general good; but all were 
 alike kind and civil to me. 
 
 I have not yet told in what country I was, for I did 
 not know myself until a good while after the period of 
 which I am writing. But it may be as well to let the 
 reader know, that I was in Old Greenland, and among 
 a remnant of a colony of Norwegians, a race of simple 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 801 
 
 primitive Christians, whose progenitors had occupied that 
 inclement shore for centuries, and once, by their account, 
 amounted to many thousands ; but, strange to say, if 
 these people's accounts were at all to be credited, fell 
 by degrees a prey to the irresistible invasions of the great 
 polar bears. All their traditional stories were about these 
 ferocious animals, and such stories for horror never charac- 
 terized the legends of a country. They were described as 
 having made frequent inroads in the month of October in 
 such force, that no single settlement could cope with them, 
 nor yet escape to seek help from others. And when once 
 they beleaguered a settlement or tribe, they never left it 
 while there was a bone of the inhabitants remaining. All 
 their songs and ballads related to those heart-rending scenes 
 of ravage and blood ; and they had a prophecy among 
 them, and a firm belief, that the bears were one day to 
 devour the last of them. 
 
 The people were much like ourselves, but of lower 
 stature than Scotsmen ; and their fur dresses made them 
 appear as square creatures, very near as broad as long. 
 The women had mild simple faces, all of one weather- 
 beaten hue, very like the women of Lewis and Harris. 
 I was so delighted to be among females of my own species 
 once more, that I thought some of the young ones the 
 most bewitching creatures in the world. It was amazing 
 how soon we understood one another's language, for we 
 conversed without ceasing ; and I had soon taken up the 
 laudable resolution of marrying three of them. I tried 
 several of them on that point ; but all that I could make 
 out of any of them was, that I would be allowed but one ; 
 and though I say it who should not, there were plenty 
 of competitors for that distinction. But persuading my- 
 self that I perceived symptoms of there having been some 
 departures from this rule in the community, I applied to 
 the old father for satisfaction on this head, who informed 
 me, that as Christians we were only allowed one wife ; 
 but owing to the depressed state of the colony, and the 
 great shortcoming of men, every man was allowed one or 
 two handmaidens, like the patriarchs of old, that every 
 i. 2 c 
 
302 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 woman among them might have the chance of becoming 
 a mother, if desirous to be so. But it was very custom- 
 ary for their women to decline all advances save by lawful 
 marriage ; and, in that respect, they were virtuous to a 
 failing, and to the great detriment of the colony. 
 
 I felt that in my heart I had no such scruples, and that 
 I should like very well to act the part of old Jacob over 
 again ; and I judged such scruples in a woman quite 
 unnatural in a state of society such as this, in which she 
 was sequestered from all others of her species ; so having 
 made a choice of three, I determined on marrying one of 
 them, and keeping the other two for mistresses. And in 
 making my choice of a wife, I did rather an ungenerous 
 thing, for I took her who I thought was most indifferent 
 about me, and I chose her that I might make sure of the 
 others afterwards, who were rather overfond. 
 
 But there was one great obstacle to my enjoyment, 
 which I could not see a possibility of overcoming, and that 
 was the jealousy of Nancy. I knew she would not leave 
 my apartment while I slept, and I knew as well she would 
 not suffer another to lie in my arms in her presence. I felt 
 that I was so much subjected to her, that I could not have 
 answered for the life of a girl whom I was caressing, no 
 not for a day ; for though Nancy had been close muzzled, 
 she could have killed her rival with her paws in a few 
 minutes. I often saw the gleam of jealousy and proud 
 offence in her eye, and dreaded the final consequences ; but 
 these poor innocent maidens perceived nothing of the kind. 
 Moreover, Nancy soon became a favourite with the whole 
 tribe, owing to her expertness in fishing, which was alto- 
 gether unrivalled, and held out a prospect of greater plenty 
 to the clan than it had ever experienced. Her success 
 was so astonishing, that in narrow creeks she would often 
 catch more in one day than all the fishermen of the tribe 
 could do in ten. In fact she was worth us all for laying 
 in a stock of provisions ; and to think of injuring, parting 
 with, or even offending Nancy, would have been a dere- 
 liction from nature. She had been the preserver of my 
 life and the supporter of it, and never was affection more 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 303 
 
 ardent or disinterested than hers was for me ; it was 
 therefore that I felt a reluctance in forfeiting it, by 
 exciting her jealousy. Accordingly, I resolved on taking 
 a stolen kiss with one or all of my charmers, and put off 
 my nuptials until the winter months, when Nancy would 
 be asleep, and we confined to our cabins. 
 
 In the mean time, we were busy preparing for that 
 period of rest, devotion, and festivity, and our success, 
 especially in fishing, was consonant to our utmost wishes. 
 There is a curious phenomenon which I conceive to be 
 peculiar to this country. It is, that all along the coast 
 the sea is open for seven or eight months of the year, 
 while farther out at sea, where there are chains and 
 ridges of rocks and islands, the ice frequently remains 
 unbroken through the whole year. And what is more, 
 there are no regular tides, these degenerating all into 
 irregular currents, which seem to be affected by the pre- 
 valence of certain winds, but not the least by the tides. 
 There is a regular ebb and swell, and sometimes a very 
 high swell, but no turn of the tide and alternate current 
 as on the shores of Britain. I have often wondered that 
 the tides were not perfectly understood. I have under- 
 stood them since ever I went to sea, when merely a boy ; 
 at least I believed I understood them, which was the 
 same thing to me. I believe in my theory still, and the 
 study of this northern or frozen ocean has completely 
 confirmed me in it. 
 
 It is astonishing that neither natural philosophers nor 
 accomplished navigators, of which there have been so 
 many, ever perceived that the earth, in its diurnal mo- 
 tion, rolled with a swing from north to south, and vice 
 versa, every five hours and so many minutes, and that this 
 swing was caused by the influence of the moon upon our 
 planet, which, at full moons, is stronger, and at certain 
 other full moons acts with double force ; and this at once 
 accounts for all the phenomena of the tides, which, ere 
 they reach the equator, being opposed by others, run all 
 into currents, and ere they reach the poles, the same. 
 And, moreover, this lunary swing of the earth accounts 
 
304 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 for the tides rolling past the mouths oi the cross seas, 
 such as the Baltic and the Mediterranean, whose only 
 tides are a gentle alternate swell from shore to shore 
 occasioned by this swing. The thing is so apparent, that 
 no man sailing on the British seas can help perceiving it. 
 I remember that there was one year I was on board the 
 Hawk of Liverpool, which brought a deal of uncustomed 
 wine and spirits for Glasgow and the towns on the Clyde. 
 We durst not enter the outer frith, where a strict watch 
 was kept, but stretching away to the west, we came at 
 length into a creek in Argyleshire, called Loch-Tarbet, 
 where we carried all our smuggled goods across a narrow 
 neck of land. Here, to my astonishment, I found that it 
 was high tide on the one side of the isthmus, and ebb at 
 the other, and scarce a bow-shot between them. The 
 cause was manifest. Here was an estuary, taking Loch- 
 fine and the frith, an hundred miles and more in length ; 
 before this was filled full by the one swing, the tide had 
 turned, and the ebb below it brought it roaring and foam- 
 ing backward ; and this continued, I was told, the whole 
 year round, flood tide on the one side, and ebb on the 
 other. Not being able to describe this power that the 
 moon has over the diurnal motion of the earth scienti- 
 fically, I merely mention it to put men of science and 
 experience on a right basis, because, without adopting it, 
 they will never account logically for the tides and currents 
 of the ocean. 
 
 The only extra expedition which we had this summer 
 was one to the hulk of the Anne Forbes, my old habita- 
 tion, of which I was very fond. I had described to them 
 the riches that I left there in oil, spirits, iron, &c. These 
 two last were so highly estimated, that the desire for the 
 expedition grew irresistible. Accordingly all things were 
 prepared for the adventure ; but as canoes were the only 
 vessels chiefly used, we had a terrible business before we 
 got our dogs and sledges across the open sea, and placed 
 fairly on the ice. One woman and one dog were drowned 
 in this expedition across, and we were very near losing two 
 men besides ; but the greatest exertions imaginable were 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 305 
 
 made for their preservation, a man's life being a thing of 
 high estimation there. We at length set out with eight 
 light sledges, drawn by one-and-thirty powerful dogs, and 
 the whole conducted by four men, of which number I 
 was one, while poor Nancy accompanied us on foot. We 
 had likewise a light canoe lashed on one of the sledges, 
 for fear of meeting with open fissures in the ice. The 
 snow having been mostly from the ice, it was blue and 
 keen, and once the dogs were fairly set a going, they ran 
 on with amazing swiftness. I never saw any journeying 
 half so quick ; for there was an emulation among the 
 animals who to be foremost, the whole journey was actu- 
 ally one pitched race after another ; so that, with the 
 delay of only one sleep, we arrived at my glorious crys- 
 talline mountain, beaming in the sun with prismatic and 
 dazzling brightness. But still, before we reached it, the 
 chasm in the ice separating it from the main field had 
 begun, and it was only by going round to where we saw 
 the ice crushed up, that we succeeded in getting on to 
 the mountain and the wreck. I found every thing as I 
 had left it, and still plenty of stuff useful for the colony. 
 Had we had fifty sledges we could have loaded them all ; 
 but so intensely fond were my three associates of iron, 
 that they would have loaded almost wholly with it. We 
 still found plenty to eat and drink, and plenty for our 
 dogs, so we were in no hurry in loading and departing ; 
 but here we were guilty of an oversight fraught with great 
 danger, for the mountain, already affected by the great 
 under current, was just in the act of wheeling and mov- 
 ing off. 
 
 All was now bustle and confusion, in order to get as 
 much removed on to the firm ice as possible, before the 
 final separation took place ; and we did succeed in bring- 
 ing a very miscellaneous cargo, though not half so much 
 as we wished ; and at length the great mass went off with 
 a roll, that made a concussion in the ocean that would 
 have swallowed up a whaler of the largest size. Two 
 men and several dogs were still by the wreck when the 
 iceberg separated ; but they were on the other end from 
 2 c 2 
 
306 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 the great turmoil. The men threw themselves into the 
 sea, leaving the canoe behind them, and then calling on 
 the dogs, they all followed, and we got them safe on the 
 ice, and away went the splendid meteor mountain once 
 more on its voyage round the polar regions. A more 
 glorious sight I never beheld in nature than this. The 
 steep side of the hill being toward us, it reflected the rays 
 of the southern sun in a thousand dazzling hues, too 
 brilliant for the eye to look on. It was an illuminated 
 phenomenon fading gradually from our astonished view 
 on the far surface of the ocean. That was the last sight 
 I saw of my old and sublime habitation ; and as it was 
 still increasing by the alternate rains and frosts of autumn, 
 I have no doubt that it is roving about among these inter- 
 minable shoals and currents to this day, unseen by all of 
 existence save the walrus and the wild swan, and haply 
 the whale from his window of foam. 
 
 We now loaded with all diligence, and returned home ; 
 and during our stay Nancy, as on the former year, had 
 furnished us with an immense heap of excellent fresh 
 fish, which were a great treat to us, and formed a good 
 part of the carriage of two sledges. We brought also the 
 remainder of the spirits, bags of blubber, bear's flesh, iron, 
 and a great number of miscellaneous articles. I likewise 
 loaded Nancy, and every man carried some loading, as 
 our progress was now necessarily slow. There was 
 nothing remarkable happened on our return, save a great 
 confusion in getting our goods from the ice to the land. 
 The men and dogs returned for the remainder ; but I had 
 no heart to go again, so another returned in my stead, 
 and I went home with the baggage. 
 
 After this we had a grand fishing expedition, about a 
 hundred miles to the northward, in which we took tents 
 and the greater part of the women with us, as also canoes 
 and all our homely fishing tackle of nets and lines, spears 
 and clubs. We had excellent sport and fair success; 
 but our lodging accommodation was very bad, for we lay 
 in tiers above each other, and the abundance of bad breaths 
 from foul feeding was disagreeable to me. I would rather 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 307 
 
 have lain beside poor Nancy by herself than in this mixed 
 multitude; but here she was very cumbersome to me, for 
 not being able to get in at my side, she often lay with 
 her head across me, and she was grown so heavy, I 
 could scarcely bear her. I once awakened in a state of 
 absolute suffocation, and found her lying straight across 
 my face. She was still, however, the queen fisher, and 
 catered for us most abundantly ; but she would not suffer 
 any one to lift the fish that she caught but me. She was 
 fond of salmon, and when she fell in with them would eat 
 till I was often afraid she would kill herself. 
 
 At length the thin ice began to cover the creeks, and 
 we were obliged to return to our winter settlement, which 
 was now well stored with every production of that incle- 
 ment coast. Fish was our great staple ; but we had part 
 of rein-deer and bear's flesh beside. As soon as the snow 
 came on, we fortified our dwelling by triple walls of half 
 melted snow, which afterwards freezing, grew as firm as 
 adamant. It is amazing how much drift-wood comes 
 annually to that coast and all along the edges of the ice. 
 Of this we had a considerable hoard ; but we trusted 
 much to the blubber both for light and heating our water. 
 We merely thawed our meat, we seldom boiled it ; and 
 some crumped it up frozen as it was. I even had grown 
 that I preferred the fish in a raw state. 
 
 The sun went down, and our long night at length com- 
 menced. Nancy fell asleep, so I left her my apartment 
 to herself, covered her well up, and took another bosom 
 partner, Lefa, a young maiden about her prime. The 
 old father Herard joined our hands, prayed over us, 
 made us kiss, and then pronounced us married persons, 
 with a benediction on us, which, as far as I could under- 
 stand, was very nearly the same as that generally used in 
 Scotland. I had reserved a part of my Highland whiskey 
 for my wedding, and a merrier night I believe never was 
 in Greenland. They know nothing about ardent, spirits 
 there, and are naturally a sedate, simple set of people. I 
 speak of this tribe, a remnant of an old Christian community, 
 for any other human being I never saw so long as I was there. 
 
308 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 What a strange life we led during the dreary and dark, 
 some winter months ! We were actually little better 
 than the bears lying in a torpid state. The air being 
 closed out as far as possible, we were drowsy, insipid, 
 and almost incapable of moving. I am sure that after I 
 was married I was not twelve hours out of my bed for 
 three weeks. It was very difficult to get out to the open 
 air, the entrance was so shut up with fagots of sea-weed 
 and furze ; and unless one went at the hour of public 
 egress, when the shell was sounded, to get out was next 
 to impossible. We had plenty of meat, but we could not 
 eat it. We had neither air nor exercise ; and the three 
 months in the depth of winter passed over like a drumly 
 confused dream. They pretended always to keep the 
 Sabbath, though I daresay as distant as could be from the 
 real first day of the week. They however kept a portion 
 of their time ; and on that day I uniformly sung a psalm, 
 and read and prayed with them. As for old father Herard 
 he prayed every day ; and as I came soon to understand 
 it, a very original prayer it was, different altogether from 
 any in use in my native country. He prayed always for 
 " the life of men and the death of fish," and " that angels 
 of God might pitch their tents near our happy home, to 
 guard and defend us against the great enemies of human 
 nature, the white bears!" Many other sentences beside 
 had allusion to them; and, moreover, he prayed for "the 
 blessed and happy communion between the sexes of their 
 tribe, that all their maidens might become mothers, and 
 bear men children like the young of the dolphin in abun- 
 dance, healthy as the eagle, and strong as the bear of the 
 lands of snow." For strange to say, they accounted their 
 own country a terrestrial paradise, although the bleakest 
 and last abode of living men. 
 
 The spring months at length returned, and daylight 
 appeared, bracing our nerves and cheering our hearts. But 
 now a great and irretrievable misfortune befell me, and one 
 which I fear led to the most dismal of consequences. With 
 the spring, Nancy awoke, and, as soon as her lethargy wore 
 ofl, was kind and affectionate as ever; but when the poor 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 309 
 
 creature found that she was debarred from sleeping by me, 
 and watching over me in the night, her unhappiness was 
 extreme. Her moans by night disturbed the whole com- 
 munity and kept them waking. There was, moreover, a 
 gleam of jealousy in her eye toward some of the women 
 which frightened me, for I was afraid some one of them 
 might be torn to pieces, her whole savage nature being 
 apparently roused up to brutal revenge, though she luckily 
 could not recognise at that time on whom her vengeance 
 was to fall. I caressed her more than usual during the 
 day ; but when she always found that she was expelled 
 from me at night, her chagrin increased to utter misery. 
 I was now in a sad dilemma. I could not leave my wife, 
 to sleep with a huge white she-bear; and yet I had re- 
 solved to do it rather than drive her to desperation. Several 
 of the men advised it, she being the great support of the 
 colony by her profound art in fishing-; but I put it off 
 from day to day, well knowing that she would never suffer 
 one to lie on the same bed with her and me ; and so, after 
 she had spent a part of one night in such groans, as if 
 each were to be her last, in the morning she was missing. 
 Great was the alarm and intense the sorrow at the loss 
 of Nancy ; but as the snow was by that time beginning 
 to soften on the surface, we could trace her foot marks 
 from the door of our retreat, and we set out in pursuit. 
 We found that she had taken to the ice at once, there 
 being still no opening in it, and had made straight toward 
 the Bear Island, where she met her first lover, whom, for 
 my sake, she cruelly murdered. There were two men 
 went with me. We soon lost the track by reason of a 
 shower of wet snow that had fallen ; but we followed to 
 the mountains, where I called her name from hill to hill, 
 but all to no purpose ; so we were obliged to return home, 
 weary and broken-hearted. We had a tichel of dogs 
 with us, and from their marking on a snow wreath, we 
 digged and killed one sleeping bear with great difficulty, 
 as she awoke partially before we got her wounded. Had 
 it not been for the dogs, weak as she was, she would pro- 
 bably have torn us all to pieces. With this prey we 
 
310 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 returned ; but a very poor prey it was, the flesh of the 
 bear being very bad at that season. 
 
 I felt now that I was reduced below the greater part of 
 the men of the colony, whereas before I was rather viewed 
 as their chief, next at least to the patriarch ; but my 
 indefatigable provider was gone to mix with her own 
 species, taking the pattern from me, who had deserted 
 her for mine, and I was left untutored and uninitiated 
 to the strenuous means necessary to be used for existence 
 in that inclement shore, from whence I had slender hopes 
 of ever making my escape. It is impossible for me to 
 describe how inconsolable I felt for the loss of this inval- 
 uable animal. No man could have felt the loss of any 
 worldly substance so much ; for when I thought of her 
 boundless affection and kindness, the tears always rushed 
 to my eyes. I was like a heart-broken being, taking no 
 interest in our hunting and fishing expeditions, save the 
 providing for mere animal existence ; and I found that I 
 had actually been happier traversing the frozen ocean on my 
 iceberg, with one faithful and obliging animal for my com- 
 panion, than I was now with an amiable wife. 
 
 The rest of the time that I remained here was a mere 
 blank in existence, and to recount every action minutely 
 would be a weariness to the spirit of man, and far more 
 so to that of woman. It was a repetition of the same 
 scenes over and over again; of dozing, and tanning leather 
 all winter beneath the snow ; making nets, spears, and 
 canoes, all the spring ; and fishing and hunting all 
 summer and autumn ; and thus we went on from year to 
 year. 
 
 But in 1764, just as we were repairing our snow ram- 
 parts around our cavern, on rising one morning we found 
 ourselves invaded by a horde of white bears, and our ice- 
 roof penetrated in two places. The colony now consisted 
 of about sixty men, women, and children ; but only one- 
 third of these were efficient men, capable of standing any 
 deadly struggle. True, the women assisted in all employ- 
 ments, however dangerous ; but in a bloody battle with a 
 brutal horde, they were not to be counted on. Such a 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 3 1 1 
 
 scene of consternation I never witnessed, and may never 
 Christian view such another as was that time among the 
 simple inhabitants of our lonely abode. There was nothing 
 but weeping and wailing, and every one lamenting the 
 day that he or she was born. I tried to comfort them ; but 
 comfort was out of the question. Man and woman con- 
 tinued to aver, that these animals never yet invaded a set- 
 tlement in that country without devouring every bone of its 
 inhabitants before they left it. Then the horrid descrip- 
 tions followed, drawing pictures of what the bears had 
 done, what they would do. They represented them as 
 liking best to eat the children alive ; and that, in order to 
 enjoy such a meal with perfect zest, they always held 
 children down with one paw, and began at the feet, and 
 eat upward, and that the poor things would be crying and 
 trying to creep away even when the monsters had pro- 
 ceeded leisurely with their meal nearly as far as the heart. 
 In short, the people were all seized with a mania of terror ; 
 and it was agreed, without a dissentient voice save my 
 own, that they would barricade the cavern that no bear 
 should be able to enter, and sleep all together in death, 
 which the want of air would soon procure to them insen- 
 sibly. 
 
 This resolution was hailed with joy, and even the old 
 patriarch approved of it. I alone withstood it with all my 
 eloquence and with all my energy, declaring, that if 
 no one would join me, I would stand in the breach 
 myself, and defend our women, our children, and our 
 provisions, to the last drop of my blood ; but if they would 
 all join me nobly, and exert themselves in the same sacred 
 cause, I would answer with my life for the ultimate suc- 
 cess of our defence. " The bears cannot keep their eyes 
 open now," I added, " for more than a week or two. In 
 less than a month they will be all sound asleep, and lying 
 torpid beneath the snow. Why, then, throw away our 
 lives without an effort to preserve them ? And worst of 
 all, if we immure ourselves up in our inner cave, and 
 smother ourselves to death, do we not every one of us, 
 save the babies, commit suicide ; and with our blood upon 
 
312 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 our own hands, how shall we ever appear before our 
 Maker, or expect mercy at his hands, who durst not trust 
 to it here below ?" 
 
 This argument prevailed with the simple Christians, 
 who could not bear the thought of losing their immortal 
 souls. But they assured me that, let us do what we 
 would, the herd would not leave a bone of us, for what 
 they never had done, they would not now begin. Never- 
 theless, if I would be the responsible captain, and take 
 the whole charge of the defence, they would take an oath 
 to stand by me to the last in defence of the lives that 
 God had given them. This they did, man and woman, 
 in the most solemn manner, kneeling, laying both their 
 hands on the bible, and then kissing it. 
 
 I then undertook the defence of the settlement, not 
 only with high hopes, but perfect assurance. Never was 
 there a commander undertook the defence of a fortress, 
 however strong, who was as confident of wearing out his 
 enemy as I was ; and I really accounted the danger 
 rather a slight one. We had plenty of spears, both of 
 bone and iron, some bows, and arrows in abundance ; but 
 these last could only wound the bears, not kill them. 
 Of powder and lead we had only a few charges remaining. 
 Had we had plenty of that, some of our men were such 
 excellent marksmen that we might have shot the whole 
 herd one by one ; but, alas ! that resource was no more. 
 We had, moreover, to do with an enemy which every 
 defeat, every life taken, and every wound given, only 
 tended to exasperate, and to determine them the more on 
 our total subversion. 
 
 Our cave under the rocks I deemed quite impregnable ; 
 but then there was no water in it, and snow would not 
 keep within it if unmelted ; so that we were obliged to 
 keep possession of a part of our snow fortress, which was , 
 no easy matter, for the strength of these animals, and. 
 the power they have in their paws is so prodigious, that 
 when left at liberty to work, they could dig almost through 
 any thing. They soon had our snow roof riddled by 
 several windows, although, whenever we were apprized of 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 313 
 
 their attacks, we could drive them off with our long sharp 
 spears. In fact they did not seem peculiarly voracious 
 or outrageous ; a united shout from us, joined to the 
 baying of dogs, made them always scamper off, and keep 
 at a good distance for a space afterwards. 
 
 The frost now set in with all its usual intensity, the 
 weather grew calm and clear, and we thought, if we 
 could drive the bears from our habitation, they would 
 soon be seized by a hopeless apathy, dig holes for them- 
 selves, and fall into the torpid state. Besides, from any 
 late glimpses we had got of them, the herd seemed not 
 nearly so numerous ; so we concluded they had separated, 
 and we would needs become the assailants in our turn. 
 
 Accordingly, early one morning of the then short day, 
 we sallied out on the bears, not only every one who could 
 bear arms, but every one who could bear a red clout for 
 a flag, for which colour the bears were said to be frightened. 
 Man, woman, maid, and stripling, sallied out, with all our 
 dogs and all our sounding shells ; and such a deafening 
 noise I believe never was raised in old Greenland. The 
 bears durst not once stand before it, they fled before us 
 in a body, and we pursued with cheerful hearts, shouting 
 on the dogs in the van, the men next, and the women 
 last. But before we were aware our ears were saluted 
 by some piercing shrieks behind, and on turning round, 
 we perceived with horror, which may easily be conceived, 
 that another powerful body of bears had attacked our 
 rear, and having already seized on a number of the 
 women, they had them carrying here and there clasped 
 in their paws, and then stretching them on the snow, 
 they embraced them to death, and sucked their blood. 
 We ran to the rescue, and attacking such of the bears as 
 had not yet seized a victim, we drove them back. But, 
 alas, our efforts were powerless and vain ! for we were 
 instantly attacked again behind by those we had been 
 chasing, and there being more of the bears than of us, 
 our case was desperate ; for a man was no more in the 
 paws of one of these monsters than a babe is in the hands 
 of a man. The women were all seized first, particularly 
 i. 2 D 
 
314 SURPASSING ADVENTURES 
 
 the young ones, prostrated, and devoured. The short 
 stifled shrieks of these hapless wretches, and the apparent 
 joy and triumph of the bears over their prey, will haunt 
 me t3 my dying day. I fought with blind fury and 
 desperation, and a few of the Greenlanders still stood by 
 me ; but many prostrated themselves on the ground, 
 whether to implore mercy from Heaven or of the bears I 
 could not tell ; but there was no mercy shown to them. 
 
 I was at length seized by an immense powerful bear 
 round the arms and the breast, and borne off with great 
 rapidity ; but I neither cried nor prayed. I struck with 
 my heels, and tried to wound with my weapons ; but my 
 arms were held so strait, they were void of power. The 
 huge animal never once stopped until it had me at the 
 door of our now nearly desolate habitation, where it set 
 me down uninjured, kneeled at my feet, and licked my 
 hand. " Nancy ! My dear, dear Nancy, have we two 
 met again ?" cried I, embracing her, " Then we shall never 
 part again in this world." 
 
 The generous animal whined and whimpered her joy, 
 grovelled on the snow, and licked my feet, my knees, 
 and my hands. I was now sure of protection, this being a 
 friend in need, whose prowess in my defence had never 
 been baffled ; and I was so overjoyed to meet with her 
 again, and at having found protection when I expected 
 every moment to be torn in pieces, that I was never weary 
 of caressing her, and saying kind and endearing words, 
 every one of which she seemed well to remember. 
 
 The cries of death, and the growls of voluptuous joy 
 continued to come from the slaughter-field, and some 
 grovelling sounds seemed approaching nearer, on which 
 Nancy seized me by the robe, and drew me into the 
 recess, where she and I had had our abode for a season ; 
 and leaving me to my repose, she returned and kept 
 watch in the inner door of our tent. 
 
 I heard no more, and I think I had a drumly and 
 dreadful sleep, from which I was awakened by Nancy 
 pulling once more at my clothes. I saw she wanted 
 something with me ; but for a long time I could not con- 
 
OF ALLAN GORDON. 315 
 
 ceive what she wanted. I brought her meat, but she 
 would not taste it, and I could not read her looks nor 
 her whimperings ; till at length she seized a sealskin 
 wallet, and laid it on her back. I then knew at once that 
 she wanted me to load her with provisions and fly, which 
 I effected with all speed ; and we issued from the cave, 
 Nancy leading the way with great caution. All was quiet. 
 The bears were gorged, and fallen into their repose ; and 
 I believe a fitter time could not have been chosen to make 
 my escape. There were several children and two old 
 frail people in the cavern when I left it, wholly unpro- 
 tected. Some of those children were my own, or supposed 
 to be so ; and when I came away, I heard one weeping 
 and calling for its mother. But what could I do? I 
 could do nothing but shed tears, and leave them to that 
 mercy which I prayed and hoped might yet be extended 
 to save them. 
 
 Away then I went once more to push my fortune I 
 knew not where, with Nancy trotting loaded by my side. 
 She led me straight to the sea side, to the very spot at 
 which she and I had first landed in Greenland, and there 
 she threw my load from her back, kneeled, licked my 
 hand, and then scampered off at full speed to share the 
 prey with her associates. 
 
 There were plenty of canoes lying at the spot, and 
 some fishing boats ; but choosing the best canoe I could 
 find as the safest vessel, I stowed my victuals in about 
 my feet and legs, bound the doughty sealskin cover around 
 my breast, and away I set on my perilous voyage. The 
 sea was still open all along the coast, and I plied my 
 voyage night and day along a weather shore, going merely 
 to land occasionally to take a short sleep. I got some 
 distant views of Iceland, but could not get near it for ice ; 
 so I held on my course until fairly hemmed in with ice, 
 that I could get no farther. I then drew my canoe ashore, ' 
 and climbed a hill, from which I saw the open sea at no 
 great distance, and several ships all apparently bearing 
 southward. Many an anxious day had I spent in my life, 
 but never one so fraught with anxiety as this. I posted 
 
318 SURPASSING ADVENTURES, &c. 
 
 on, running without intermission in the direction of the 
 ships ; but before I reached the verge of the ice, they 
 were all gone beyond hail. I set me down, and cried one 
 while, and prayed another ; but in less than twelve hours 
 the Briel of Amsterdam hove in view, beating up, and as 
 in one of her tacks she came close to me, I was taken on 
 board, and safely landed in Scotland. 
 
TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 WODROW mentions the following story, but in a mari- 
 ner so confused and indefinite, that it is impossible to 
 comprehend either the connexion of the incidents with 
 one another, or what inference he wishes to draw from 
 them. The facts seem to have been these. Mr John 
 Haliday having been in hiding on the hills, after the battle 
 of Pentland, became impatient to hear news concerning 
 the suffering of his brethren who had been in arms, and 
 in particular if there were any troops scouring the district 
 in which he had found shelter. Accordingly, he left his 
 hiding-place in the evening, and travelled towards the 
 valley until about midnight ; when, coming to the house 
 of Gabriel Johnstone, and perceiving a light, he deter- 
 mined on entering, as he knew him to be a devout man, 
 and one much concerned about the sufferings of the 
 church of Scotland. 
 
 Mr Haliday, however, approached the house with great 
 caution, for he rather wondered why there should be a 
 light there at midnight, while at the same time he neither 
 heard psalms singing nor the accents of prayer. So, cast- 
 ing off his heavy shoes, for fear of making a noise, he stole 
 softly up to the little window from whence the light 
 beamed, and peeped in, where he saw, not Johnstone, but 
 another man, whom he did not know, in the very act of 
 cutting a soldier's throat, while Johnstone's daughter, a 
 comely girl, about twenty years of age, was standing 
 deliberately by, and holding the candle to him. 
 
 Haliday was seized with an inexpressible terror ; for the 
 2 D 2 
 
318 A TALE OF PENTLAND. ' 
 
 floor was all blood, and the man was struggling in the 
 agonies of death, and from his dress he appeared to have 
 been a cavalier of some distinction. So completely was 
 the covenanter overcome with horror, that he turned and 
 fled from the house with all his might ; resolved to have 
 no participation in the crime, and deeply grieved that he 
 should have witnessed such an act of depravity, as a pri- 
 vate deliberate murder, perpetrated at such an hour, and 
 in such a place, by any who professed to be adherents to 
 the reformed religion of the Scottish church. So much 
 had Haliday been confounded, that he even forgot to lift 
 his shoes, but fled without them ; and he had not run 
 above half a bowshot before he came upon two men hast- 
 ing to the house of Gabriel Johnstone. As soon as they 
 perceived him running towards them they fled, and he 
 pursued them, for when he saw them so ready to take 
 alarm, he was sure they were some of the persecuted 
 race, and tried eagerly to overtake them, exerting his 
 utmost speed, and calling on them to stop. All this only 
 made them run the faster, and when they came to a feal- 
 dike they separated, and ran different ways, and he soon 
 thereafter lost sight of them both. 
 
 This house, where Johnstone lived, is said to have been 
 in a lonely concealed dell, hot far from West Linton, in 
 what direction I do not know, but it was towards that 
 village that Haliday fled, not knowing whither he went, 
 till he came to the houses. Having no acquaintances 
 here whom he durst venture to call up, and the morning 
 having set in frosty, he began to conceive that it was 
 absolutely necessary for him to return to the house of 
 Gabriel Johnstone, and try to regain bis shoes, as he 
 little knew when or where it might be in his power to get 
 another pair. Accordingly he hasted back by a nearer 
 path, and coming to the place before it was day, found 
 his shoes. At the same time he heard a fierce conten- 
 tion within the house, but as there seemed to be a watch 
 he durst not approach it, but again made his escape. 
 
 Having brought some victuals along with him, he did 
 not return to his hiding-place that day, which was in a 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 319 
 
 wild height, south of Biggar, but remained in the moss of 
 Craigengaur ; and as soon as it grew dark descended 
 again into the valley, determined to have some communi- 
 cation with his species, whatever it might cost. Again 
 he perceived a light at a distance, where he thought no 
 light should have been. But he went toward it, and as he 
 approached, he heard the melody of psalm-singing issuing 
 from the place, and floating far on the still breeze of the 
 night. The covenanter's spirits were cheered, he had 
 never heard any thing so sweet ; no, not when enjoying 
 the gospel strains in peace, and in their fullest fruition. 
 It was to him the feast of the soul, and rang through his 
 ears like a hymn of paradise. He flew as on hinds' feet 
 to the spot, and found the reverend and devout Mr Liv- 
 ingston, in the act of divine worship, in an old void barn 
 on the lands of Slipperfield, with a great number of seri- 
 ous and pious people, who were all much affected both by 
 his prayers and discourse. 
 
 After the worship was ended, Haliday made up to the" 
 minister, among many others, to congratulate him on the 
 splendour of his discourse, and implore " a further supply 
 of the same milk of redeeming grace, with which they 
 found their souls nourished, cherished, and exalted." 
 Indeed, it is quite consistent with human nature to sup- 
 pose, that the whole of the circumstances under which 
 this small community of Christians met, could not miss 
 rendering their devotions impressive. They were a pro- 
 scribed race, and were meeting at the penalty of their 
 lives ; their dome of worship a waste house in the wilder- 
 ness, and the season, the dead hour of the night, had of 
 themselves tints of sublimity which could not fail to make 
 impressions on the souls of the worshippers. The good 
 man complied with their request, and appointed another 
 meeting at the same place, on a future night. 
 
 Haliday having been formerly well acquainted with the 
 preacher, convoyed him on his way home, where they 
 condoled with one another on the hardness of their lots ; 
 and Haliday told him of the scene he had witnessed at 
 the house of Gabriel Johnstone. The heart of the good 
 
320 A TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 minister was wrung with grief, and he deplored the mad- 
 ness and malice of the people who had committed an act 
 that would bring down tenfold vengeance on the heads 
 of the whole persecuted race. At length it WEIS resolved 
 between them, that as soon as it was day, they would go 
 and reconnoitre ; and if they found the case of the aggra- 
 vated nature they suspected, they would themselves be 
 the first to expose it, and give the perpetrators up to 
 justice. 
 
 Accordingly, next morning they took another man into 
 the secret, a William Rankin, one of Mr Livingston's 
 elders, and the three went away to Johnstone's house, to 
 investigate the case of the cavalier's murder ; but there was a 
 guard of three armed men opposed them, and neither pro- 
 mises, nor threatenings, nor all the minister's eloquence, 
 could induce them to give way one inch. They said 
 they could not conceive what they were seeking there, 
 and as they suspected they came for no good purpose, they 
 were determined that they should not enter. It was in 
 vain that Mr Livingston informed them of his name and 
 sacred calling, and his friendship for the owner of the 
 house, and the cause which he had espoused ; the men 
 continued obstinate ; and when he asked to speak a word 
 to Gabriel Johnstone himself, they shook their heads, and 
 said, " he would never see him again." The men then 
 advised the intruders to take themselves off without any 
 more delay, lest a worse thing should befall them ; and as 
 they continued to motion them away, with the most im- 
 patient gestures, the kind divine and his associates 
 thought meet to retire, and leave the matter as it was ; 
 and thus was this mysterious affair hushed up in silence 
 and darkness for that time, no tongue having been heard 
 to mention it further than as above recited. The three 
 armed men were all unknown to the others, but Haliday 
 observed, that one of them was the very youth whom he 
 saw cutting off the soldier's head with a knife. 
 
 The rage and cruelty of the popish party seemed to 
 gather new virulence every day, influencing all the coun- 
 sels of the king ; and the persecution of the non-confor- 
 
A TALE OF PENTLA.ND. 321 
 
 mists was proportionally severe. One new act of council 
 was issued after another, all tending to root the covenan- 
 ters out of Scotland, but it had only the effect of making 
 their tenets still dearer to them. The longed-for night 
 of the meeting in the old hay-barn at length arrived, and 
 it was attended by a still greater number than that on the 
 preceding. A more motley group can hardly be con- 
 ceived than appeared in the barn that, night, and the lamps 
 being weak and dim, rendered the appearance of the 
 assembly still more striking. It was, however, observed, 
 that about the middle of the service, a number of fellows 
 came in with broad slouch bonnets, and watch coats or 
 cloaks about them, who placed themselves in equal divi- 
 sions at the two doors, and remained without uncovering 
 their heads, two of them being busily engaged in taking 
 notes. Before Mr Livingston began the last prayer, 
 however, he desired the men to uncover, which they did, 
 and the service went on to the end, but no sooner had the 
 minister pronounced the word Amen, than the group of late 
 comers threw off their cloaks, and drawing out swords and 
 pistols, their commander, one General Drummond, charged 
 the whole congregation, in the king's name, to surrender. 
 
 A scene of the utmost confusion ensued ; the lights 
 being extinguished, many of the young men burst through 
 the roof of the old barn in every direction, and though 
 many shots were fired at them in the dark, great numbers 
 escaped ; but Mr Livingston, and other eleven, were re- 
 tained prisoners and conveyed to Edinburgh, where they 
 were examined before the council, and cast into prison ; 
 among the prisoners was Mr Haliday, and the identical 
 young man whom he had seen in the act of murdering 
 the cavalier, and who turned out to be a Mr John Lind- 
 say, from Edinburgh, who had been at the battle of Pent- 
 land, and in hiding afterwards. 
 
 Great was the lamentation for the loss of Mr Livingston, 
 who was so highly esteemed by his hearers : the short 
 extracts from his sermons in the barn, that were produced 
 against him on his trial, prove him to have been a man 
 endowed with talents somewhat above the greater part of 
 
322 A TALE OF PENTLAND, 
 
 his contemporaries. His text that night, it appears, had 
 been taken from Genesis : " And God saw the wicked- 
 ness of man that it was great in the earth, and that every 
 imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil con- 
 tinually." One of the quoted passages runs thus : 
 
 " And while we have thus ample experience of the 
 effects of sin, we have also abundance of examples set be- 
 fore us of sin itself, yea, in its most hideous aspect ; for 
 behold how it abounds among us all, but chiefly among the 
 rulers and nobles of the land ! Dare I mention to you those 
 crimes of theirs which cause the sun of heaven to blush 
 and hide his head as ashamed of the sight of their abomi- 
 nations? Dare I mention to you the extent of their 
 blasphemies against that God who made them, and the 
 Saviour who died to redeem them ? Their cursing, and 
 swearing, Sabbath -breaking, chambering, and wanton- 
 ness ; and, above all, their trampling upon the blood of 
 the covenant, and pouring out the blood of saints and 
 martyrs like water on the face of the earth. Because of 
 those the land mourneth, and by these, multitudes, which 
 no man can number, are plunging their souls into irre- 
 trievable and eternal ruin. But some say, O these are 
 honourable men ! Amiable, upright, and good moral men 
 though no great professors of religion. But I say, my 
 brethren, alack and well-a-day for their uprightness and 
 honour ! which, if ever they come to be tried by the test 
 of the Divine law, and by the example of him who was 
 holiness itself, will be found miserably short-coming. So 
 true it is that the kings of the earth have combined to 
 plot against the Lord and his anointed. Let us, therefore, 
 join together in breaking their bands and casting their cords 
 from us. As for myself, as a member of this poor perse- 
 cuted Church of Scotland, and an unworthy minister of it, 
 I hereby call upon you all, in the name of God, to set your 
 faces, your hearts, and your hands against all such acts, 
 which are or shall be passed, against the covenanted 
 work of reformation in this kingdom ; that we here de- 
 clare ourselves free of the guilt of them, and pray that 
 God may put this in record in heaven." 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 323 
 
 These words having been sworn to, and Mr Livingston 
 not denying them, a sharp debate arose in the council 
 what punishment to award. The king's advocate urged 
 the utility of sending him forthwith to the gallows ; but 
 some friends in the council got his sentence commuted to 
 banishment ; and he was accordingly banished the king- 
 dom. Six more, against whom nothing could be proven, 
 farther than their having been present at a conventicle, 
 were sentenced to imprisonment for two months ; among 
 this number Haliday was one. The other five were con- 
 demned to be executed at the cross of Edinburgh, on the 
 14th of December following ; and among this last unhappy 
 number was Mr John Lindsay. 
 
 Haliday now tried all the means he could devise to gain 
 an interview with Lindsay, to have some explanation of 
 the extraordinary scene he had witnessed in the cottage 
 at midnight, for it had made a fearful impression upon his 
 mind, and he never could get rid of it for a moment ; 
 having still in his mind's eye a beautiful country maiden 
 standing with a pleased face, holding a candle, and Lind- 
 say in the mean time at his horrid task. His endeavours, 
 however, were all in vain, for they were in different 
 prisons, and the jailor paid no attention to his requests. 
 But there was a gentleman in the privy council, that 
 year, whose name, I think, was Gilmour, to whose can- 
 dour Haliday conceived, that both he and some of his 
 associates owed their lives. To this gentleman, therefore, 
 he applied by letter, requesting a private interview with 
 him, as he had a singular instance of barbarity to com- 
 municate, which it would be well to inquire into while 
 the possibility of doing so remained, for the access 
 to it would soon be sealed for ever. The gentleman 
 attended immediately, and Haliday revealed to him the 
 circumstances previously mentioned, stating that the 
 murderer now lay in the Tolbooth jail, under sentence of 
 death. 
 
 Gilmour appeared much interested, as well as 
 astonished at the narrative, and taking out a note-book, 
 he looked over some dates, and then observed ; ** Thi^ 
 
32-4 A TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 date of yours, tallies exactly with one of my own, rela- 
 ting to an incident of the same sort, but the circumstances 
 narrated are so different, that I must conceive, either that 
 you are mistaken, or that you are trumping up this story 
 to screen some other guilty person or persons." 
 
 Haliday disclaimed all such motives, and persevered in 
 his attestations. Gilmour then took him along with him 
 to the Tolbooth prison, where the two were admitted to 
 a private interview with the prisoner, and there charged 
 him with the crime of murder in such a place and on such 
 a night; but he denied the whole with disdain. Haliday 
 told him that it was in vain for him to deny it, for he be- 
 held him in the very act of perpetrating the murder with 
 his own eyes, while Gabriel Johnstone's daughter stood 
 deliberately and held the candle to him. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, fellow !" said Lindsay, disdain- 
 fully, "for you know not what you are saying. What a 
 cowardly dog you must be by your own account ! If you 
 saw me murdering a gentleman cavalier, why did you not 
 rush in to his assistance ?" 
 
 " I could not have saved the gentleman then," said 
 Haliday, " and I thought it not meet to intermeddle in 
 such a scene of blood." 
 
 " It was as well for you that you did not," said Lindsay. 
 " Then you acknowledge being in the cottage of the 
 dell that night ?" said Gilmour. 
 
 " And if I was, what is that to you ? Or what is it now 
 to me, or any person ? I was there on the night speci- 
 fied ; but I am ashamed of the part I there acted, and am 
 now well requited for it. Yes, requited as I ought to 
 be, so let it rest ; for not one syllable of the transaction 
 shall any one hear from me." 
 
 Thus they were obliged to leave the prisoner, and forth- 
 with Gilmour led Haliday up a stair to a lodging in the 
 Parliament Square, where they found a gentleman lying 
 sick in bed, to whom Mr Gilmour said, after inquiring 
 after his health, " Brother Robert, I conceive that we two 
 have found out the young man who saved your life at the 
 cottage among the mountains." 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 325 
 
 " I would give the half that I possess that this were 
 true," said the sick gentleman, " who or where is he?" 
 
 " If I am right in my conjecture," said the privy coun- 
 cillor, " he is lying in the Tolbooth jail, there under sen- 
 tence of death, and has but a few days to live. But tell 
 me, brother, could you know him, or have you any recol- 
 lection of his appearance ?" 
 
 " Alas ! I have none !" said the other, mournfully, " for 
 I was insensible, through the loss of blood, the whole 
 time I was under his protection ; and if I ever heard his 
 name I have lost it : the whole of that period being a 
 total blank in my memory. But he must be a hero of 
 the first rank; and therefore, O my dear brother, save 
 him whatever his crime may be." 
 
 " His life is justly forfeited to the laws of his country, 
 brother," said Gilmour, " and h^pnust die with the rest." 
 
 " He shall not die with the rest if I should die for him," 
 cried the sick man, vehemently, " I will move heaven and 
 earth before my brave deliverer shall die like a felon." 
 
 " Calm yourself, brother ; and trust that part to me," 
 said Gilmour, " I think my influence saved the life of this 
 gentleman, as well as the lives of some others, and it was 
 all on account of the feeling of respect I had for the party, 
 one of whom, or, rather I should say two of whom, acted 
 such a noble and distinguished part toward you. But 
 pray undeceive this gentleman by narrating the facts to 
 him, in which he cannot miss to be interested." The sick 
 man, whose name it seems, if I remember aright, was 
 Captain Robert Gilmour, of the volunteers, then pro- 
 ceeded as follows : 
 
 " There having been high rewards offered for the appre- 
 hension of some south-country gentlemen, whose corre- 
 spondence with Mr Welch, and some other of the fanatics, 
 had been intercepted, I took advantage of information I 
 obtained, regarding the place of their retreat, and set out, 
 certain of apprehending two of them at least. 
 
 " Accordingly I went off one morning about the be- 
 ginning of November, with only five followers, well armed 
 and mounted. We left Gilmerton long before it was 
 i. 2 E 
 
326 A TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 light, and having a trusty guide, rode straight to their 
 hiding-place, where we did not arrive till towards the 
 evening, when we started them. They were seven in 
 number, and were armed with swords and bludgeons : but, 
 being apprized of our approach, they fled from us, and 
 took shelter in a morass, into which it was impossible to 
 follow them on horseback. But perceiving three men 
 more, on another hill, I thought there was no time to lose ; 
 so giving one of my men our horses to hold, the rest of 
 us advanced into the morass with drawn swords and 
 loaded horse pistols. I called to them to surrender, but 
 they stood upon their guard, determined on resistance ; and 
 just while we were involved to the knees in the mire of 
 the morass, they broke in upon us, pell-mell, and for about 
 two minutes the engagement was very sharp. There was 
 an old man struck me 4 terrible blow with a bludgeon, 
 and was just about to repeat it when I brought him down 
 with a shot from my pistol. A young fellow then ran at 
 me with his sword, and as I still stuck in the moss, I 
 could not ward the blow, so that he got a fair stroke at 
 my neck, meaning, without doubt, to cut off my head ; 
 and he would have done it had his sword been sharp. As 
 it was, he cut it to the bone, and opened one of the jugu- 
 lar veins. I fell, but my men firing a volley in their 
 faces, at that moment, they fled. It seems we did the 
 same, without loss of time ; for I must now take my narra- 
 tive from the report of others, as I remember no more that 
 passed. My men bore me on their arms to our horses, 
 and then mounted and fled ; trying all that they could to 
 stanch the bleeding of my wound. But perceiving a 
 party coming running down a hill, as with the intent of 
 cutting off their retreat, and losing all hopes of saving my 
 life, they carried me into a cottage in a wild lonely retreat, 
 commended me to the care of the inmates, and, after tel- 
 ling them my name, and in what manner I had received 
 my death wound, they thought proper to provide for their 
 own safety, and so escaped. 
 
 " The only inmates of that lonely house, at least at that 
 present time, were a lover and his mistress, both inter- 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 327 
 
 communed whigs ; and when my men left me on the floor, 
 the blood, which they had hitherto restrained in part, 
 burst out afresh and deluged the floor. The young man 
 said it was best to put me out of my pain, but the girl 
 wept and prayed him rather to render me some assistance. 
 * Oh Johnny, man, how can ye speak that gate ?' cried she, 
 ' suppose he be our mortal enemy, he is ay ane o* God's 
 creatures, an' has a soul to be saved as well as either you 
 or me ; an' a soldier is obliged to do as he is bidden. Now 
 Johnny, ye ken ye war learned to be a doctor o' physic, 
 wad ye no rather try to stop the blooding and save the 
 young officer's life, as either kill him, or let him blood to 
 death on our floor, when the blame o' the murder might 
 fa' on us ?' 
 
 " ' Now, the blessing of heaven light on your head, my 
 dear Sally !' said the lover, ' for Jj&u have spoken the very 
 sentiments of my heart ; and, since it is your desire, though 
 we should both rue it, I here vow to you that I will not 
 only endeavour to save his life, but I will defend it against 
 our own party to the last drop of my blodd.' 
 
 " He then began, and in spite of my feeble struggles, 
 who knew not either what I was doing or suffering, sewed 
 up the hideous gash in my throat and neck, tying every 
 stitch by itself ; and the house not being able to produce 
 a pair of scissars, it seems that he cut off all the odds and 
 ends of the stitching with a large sharp gully knife, and it 
 was likely to have been during the operation that this 
 gentleman chanced to look in at the window. He then 
 bathed the wound for an hour with cloths dipped in cold 
 water, dressed it with plaster of wood-betony, and put me 
 to bed, expressing to his sweetheart the most vivid hopes 
 of my recovery. 
 
 " These operations were scarcely finished, when the 
 maid's two brothers came home from their hiding-place ; 
 and it seems they would have been there much sooner 
 had not this gentleman given them chase in the contrary 
 direction. They, seeing the floor all covered with blood, 
 inquired the cause with wild trepidation of manner. Their 
 Bister was the first to inform them of what had happened ; 
 
328 A TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 on which both the young men gripped to their weapons, 
 and the eldest, Samuel, cried out with the vehemence of 
 a maniac, ' Blessed be the righteous avenger of blood ! 
 Hoo ! Is it then true that the Lord hath delivered our 
 greatest enemy into our hands !' * Hold, hold, dearest 
 brother !' cried the maid, spreading out her arms before 
 him, ' Would you kill a helpless young man, lying in a 
 state of insensibility ? What, although the Almighty hath 
 put his life in your hand, will he not require the blood of 
 you, shed in such a base and cowardly way ?' 
 
 " ' Hold your peace, foolish girl,' cried he, in the same 
 furious strain, ' I tell you if he had a thousand lives I 
 would sacrifice them all this moment ! Wo be to this old 
 rusty and fizenless sword, that did not sever his head from 
 his body, when I had a fair chance in the open field ! 
 Nevertheless he shall dfe ; for you do not yet know that 
 he hath, within these few hours, murdered our father, 
 whose blood is yet warm around him on the bleak height.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! merciful heaven ! killed our father !" screamed 
 the girl, and flinging herself down on the resting-chair, she 
 fainted away. The two brothers regarded not, but with 
 their bared weapons, made towards the closet, intent on 
 my blood, and both vowing I should die if I had a thou- 
 sand lives. The stranger interfered, and thrust himself 
 into the closet door before them, swearing that, before 
 they committed so cowardly a murder, they should first 
 make their way through his body. A long scene of ex- 
 postulation and bitter altercation then ensued, which it is 
 needless to recapitulate ; both parties refusing to yield. 
 Samuel at the last got into an ungovernable rage, and 
 raising his weapon, he said, furiously, ' How dare you, 
 sir, mar my righteous vengeance when my father's blood 
 calls to me from the dreary heights ? Or how dictate to 
 me in my own house ? Either stand aside this moment, 
 or thy blood be upon thine own head !' 
 
 " ' I'll dictate to the devil, if he will not hearken to 
 reason,' said the young surgeon, * therefore strike at your 
 peril.' 
 
 " Samuel retreated one step to have full sway for his 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 329 
 
 weapon, and the fury depicted on his countenance proved 
 his determination. But in a moment, his gallant opponent 
 closed with him, and holding up his wrist with his left 
 hand, he with the right bestowed on him a blow with such 
 energy, that he fell flat on the floor, among the soldier's 
 blood. The youngest then ran on their antagonist with his 
 sword, and wounded him, but the next moment he was 
 lying beside his brother. He then disarmed them both, 
 and still not thinking himself quite safe with them, he tied 
 both their hands behind their backs, and had then time 
 to pay attention to the young woman, who was inconsol- 
 able for the loss of her father, yet deprecated the idea of 
 murdering the wounded man. As soon as her brothers 
 came fairly to their senses, she and her lover began and 
 expostulated with them, at great length, on the impro- 
 priety and unmanliness of the attempt, until they became 
 all of one mind, and the two brothers agreed to join in 
 the defence of the wounded gentleman, from all of their 
 own party, until he was rescued by his friends, which they 
 did. But it was the maid's simple eloquence that finally 
 prevailed with the fierce covenanters, in whom a spirit of 
 retaliation seemed inherent. 
 
 " ' O my dear brothers,' said she, weeping, * calm your- 
 selves, and think like men and like Christians. There 
 has been enough o' blood shed for a'e day, and if ye wad 
 cut him a' to inches it coudna restore our father to life 
 again. Na, na, it coudna bring back the soul that has 
 departed frae this weary scene o' sin, sorrow, and suffer- 
 ing ; and if ye wad but mind the maxims o' our blessed 
 Saviour ye wadna let revenge rankle in your hearts that 
 gate. An' o'er an' aboon a', it appears that the young 
 officer was only doing what he conceived to be his bounden 
 duty, and at the moment was actually acting in de- 
 fence of his own life. Since it is the will of the Almighty 
 to lay these grievous sufferings on our covenanted church, 
 why not suffer patiently, along with your brethren, in 
 obedience to that will ; for it is na like to be a private act 
 of cruelty or revenge that is to prove favourable to our 
 forlorn cause.' 
 
 2 E 2 
 
330 A TALE OF PENTLAND. 
 
 " When rny brothers came at last, with a number of 
 my men, and took me away, the only thing I remember 
 seeing in the house was the corpse of the old man whom 
 I had shot, and the beautiful girl standing weeping over 
 the body ; and certainly my heart smote me in such a 
 manner that I would not experience the same feeling 
 again for the highest of this world's benefits. That 
 comely young maiden, and her brave intrepid lover, it 
 would be the utmost ingratitude in me, or in > any of my 
 family, ever to forget ; for it is scarcely possible that a 
 man can ever be again in the same circumstances as I was, 
 having been preserved from death in the house of the man 
 whom my hand had just deprived of life." 
 
 Just as he ended, the sick-nurse peeped in, which she 
 had done several times before, and said, " will your hon- 
 our soon be disengaged dye think ? for ye see because 
 there's a lass wanting tin speak till ye." 
 
 " A lass, nurse ? what lass can have any business with 
 me ? what is she like ?" 
 
 " Oo 'deed, sir, the lass is weel enough, for that part 
 o't, but she may be nae better than she should be for a' 
 that ; ye ken, I's no answer for that, for ye see because 
 like is an ill mark : but she has been aften up, speering 
 after ye, an' gude troth she's fairly in nettle-earnest now, 
 for she winna gang awa till she see your honour." 
 
 The nurse being desired to show her in, a comely girl 
 entered, with a timid step, and seemed ready to faint with 
 trepidation. She had a mantle on, and a hood that 
 covered much of her face. The privy Councillor spoke 
 to her, desiring her to come forward, and say her errand ; 
 on which she said that " she only wanted a preevat word 
 wi' the captain, if he was that weel as to speak to ane," 
 He looked over the bed, and desired her to say on, for 
 that gentleman was his brother, from whom he kept no 
 secrets. After a hard struggle with her diffidence, but, 
 on the other hand, prompted by the urgency of the case, 
 she at last got out, " I'm unco glad to see you sae weel 
 corned round again, though I daresay ye'll maybe no ken 
 wha 1 am. But it was me that nursed ye, an' took care 
 
A TALE OF PENTLAND. 331 
 
 o' ye, in our house, when your head was amaist cuttit 
 off." 
 
 There was not another word required to draw forth the 
 most ardent expressions of kindness from the two brothers ; 
 on which the poor girl took courage, and, after several 
 showers of tears she said, with many bitter sobs, " There's 
 a poor lad wha, in my. humble opinion, saved your life ; 
 an' wha is just gaun to be hanged the day after the morn. 
 I wad unco fain beg your honour's interest to get his life 
 spared." 
 
 " Say not another word, my dear, good girl," said the 
 Councillor, "for though I hardly know how I can inter- 
 cede for a rebel who has taken up arms against the govern-, 
 ment, yet for your sake, and his, my best interest shall be 
 exerted." 
 
 " Oh, ye maun just say, sir, that the poor whigs were 
 driven to desperation, and that this young man was misled 
 by others in the fervour and enthusiasm of youth. What 
 else can ye say ? but ye're good ! oh, ye're very good ! and 
 on my knees I beg that ye winna lose ony time, for indeed 
 there is nae time to lose !" 
 
 The Councillor lifted her kindly by both hands, and 
 desired her to stay with his brother's nurse till his return, 
 on which he went away to the president, and in half an 
 hour returned with a respite for the convict, John Lindsay, 
 for three days, which he gave to the girl, along with an order 
 for her admittance to the prisoner. She thanked him 
 with the tears in her eyes, but added, " Oh, sir, will he 
 and I then be obliged to part for ever at the end of three 
 days ?" 
 
 " Keep up your heart, and encourage your lover," said 
 he, " and meet me here again, on Thursday, at this same 
 hour, for, till the council meet, nothing further than this 
 can be obtained." 
 
 It may well be conceived how much the poor forlorn 
 prisoner was astonished, when his own beloved Sally 
 entered to him, with the reprieve in her hand, and how 
 much his whole soul dilated when, on the Thursday fol- 
 lowing, she presented him with a free pardon. They 
 
332 A TALE OF PENT/LAND. 
 
 were afterwards married ; when the Gilmours took them 
 under their protection. Lindsay became a highly quali- 
 fied surgeon, and the descendants of this intrepid youth 
 occupy respectable situations in Edinburgh to this present 
 day. 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 IN my peregrinations through the North highlands I came 
 upon a large and romantic lake, in the country of the 
 M'Kenzies, called Loch Mari, or St Mary's Loch, the same 
 designation with that of my own beloved lake, but origin- 
 ating in a different language. It is one of the most romantic 
 places in the world ; speckled with beautiful islets, and over- 
 hung by tremendous mountains, some of them quite spiral 
 and white as snow. I spent a number of days about this 
 enchanting lake, sailing, fishing, and shooting gulls, with 
 the M'Kenzies of Ardlair, and M'Intire of Lutterewe. 
 With this latter gentleman I made a day's excursion to- 
 wards the north part of the Lutterewe estate, and cer- 
 tainly was highly gratified ; for such groups of grandeur, 
 horror, and sublimity, I have never yet seen. Sequestered 
 dells, surrounded by inaccessible cliffs; vistas of grim, 
 vast, and yawning caverns, were every where opening 
 upon us, so that we were soon entangled in a wilderness 
 of wonders, out of which none but a well experienced 
 guide could have extricated us. 
 
 At length he said he would show me the greatest curi- 
 osity of all ; and led me a long way to the south-west, to 
 see a remarkable cavern. It was a place of horrid gran- 
 deur, and most difficult of access, and is called Uadha-na 
 Kigh, or the King's Son's Cave. I asked at Mr M'Intire 
 how it came to receive that dignified title. " I will tell 
 you that," said he, " once we have got our dinner eaten and 
 our whisky drunk;" and I saw by the quick and silent way 
 in which he despatched his meal, that he weened he had 
 recollected a theme which would please and interest me; 
 for a more obliging little fellow never breathed than John 
 
334 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 M'Intire. Before I had half done eating, he returned 
 thanks very shortly in Gaelic, and thus began: 
 
 " Well, do you know, sir, that you are now sitting in 
 a place where some of the most remarkable events have 
 happened that ever took place since the world was made ? 
 Do you remember the steading grown green with age 
 which I bade you pay particular attention to?" I answered 
 that I did, and would never forget it. " Well, in that 
 sequestered home there lived, some time -long ago, a 
 young man and his mother, whose subsistence depended 
 chiefly on hunting and fishing ; but they had also a few 
 goats, and among others, a large and most valuable one, 
 called Earba. She was the colour of a hind, a dim chest- 
 nut, and almost invisible ; and tradition says she gave more 
 than any cow. She was a pet and well fed, and some of 
 those animals will give more milbthan could well be believ- 
 ed by a Sassenach. Well, but all at once Earba begins to 
 give less and less milk, to the great consternation of old 
 Oighrig, who fed and better fed her favourite to no pur- 
 pose. She complained to her son Kenet of the astound- 
 ing circumstance, but he only laughed at her, and said 
 she was not very easily pleased of the quantity of milk, 
 that she had not fed poor Earba well enough, or the good 
 creature had perhaps been unwell. 
 
 " The next day, when Kenet came in from the hills," 
 his mother says, ' I tell you, Kenet, something must be 
 done about Earba, else we may all starve. I declare she 
 has not given me a green-horn spoonful of milk this 
 morning.' 
 
 " That is very extraordinary, mother,' said Kenet, 
 but how can I help it?' 
 
 " ' Why, the truth is, Kenet, that I am sure the fairies 
 milk her ; or else she has picked up some poor mother- 
 less fawn, for it is a kindly creature; and that either some 
 fairy or this motherless fawn suck her evening and morn- 
 ing. For, do you know, Kenet, that though she comes 
 evening and morning for her meals, yet she gives me no- 
 thing in return for them. Besides, she shows a sort of im- 
 patience to get away, and does not lick my hand as she 
 
BWAN M'GABHAR. 335 
 
 was wont to do : and then she takes always one path, 
 up through the middle of these rocks, and I hear her 
 often bleating as she ascends ; but, plague on her, 
 nobody can keep sight of her.' 
 
 " ' It is very singular, indeed,' says Kenet ; * we must 
 tether her/ 
 
 " ' No, no, son Kenet, I cannot consent to that. 
 Were we to put a rope about poor Earba's neck and tether 
 her, it would break her heart, and she would never come 
 home to us again. I'll tell you what you must do, Kenet, 
 you must watch her the whole day, and never let her 
 know that you see her, for it is a cunning beast ; and if 
 she knows that you see her, she will not go near her fairy or 
 her fawn, but wait till it be dark and then give us the slip.' 
 
 " Kenet promised that he would; and early next morn- 
 ing went and hid himself among the rocks that overhung 
 his cottage, to cheat Earba. He also took a lump of dried 
 salmon with him, that he might not be hungry for a whole 
 day, determined to find out Earba's secret. Neverthe- 
 less, for all his precaution, she cheated him; she went by 
 paths on which he could not follow her, and before he got 
 round by passable parts of the rock he had lost sight of 
 her ; and, when once lost sight of, it was almost impos- 
 sible to discover her again, owing to her invisible colour, 
 She actually appeared often to vanish, when scarcely a 
 bow-shot off, among the rocks. 
 
 " * It will be as well for us to keep on good terms with 
 you, Earba,' said Kenet to himself; 'for if it should come 
 into your head to absent yourself, long would it be before 
 we found you again. But I'll be about with you ! for I'll 
 watch till you return, and see where you come from, for 
 you will pay us a visit for your meal.' 
 
 " Kenet watched and watched ; but he might as well 
 have watched for a spirit. The first sight that he saw of 
 her she was with his mother on the green at the cottage- 
 door. Kenet was terribly chagrined at being thus out- 
 witted ; and more so when he returned to his mother and 
 learned that Earba had not given a green-horn spoonful 
 of milk, having been newly sucked. 
 
336 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 " They could ill subsist without Earba's milk: further 
 exertion was necessary ; so Kenet went higher up among 
 the rocks next day. He saw her pass by him, but again 
 lost her. He went farther and farther on the track till at 
 the last he saw her enter this very cavern. Kenet, quite 
 overjoyed, came posting to the foot of the rock there, 
 where we began to climb, and called out, in his native 
 tongue, ' Hilloa, dear Earba ! are you in ? Come out ! 
 come out!' Earba came forward, and looked over at 
 him from this very spot, uttering a kindly bleat, and then 
 posted down the rock to her owner. ' What have you 
 got in there,' dear Earba ? I must see what you have got 
 in there. Earba looked up in his face with a coun- 
 tenance of the utmost distress. He began to climb, Earba 
 mounted the rock like lightning before him, and placed 
 herself there on the verge, and with a decided inveteracy 
 defended the mouth of the cave. She popped her master 
 on the forehead as it reared above the verge, gently at 
 first; but when he tried to force himself up she smote 
 him hard, letting him know that there he should not 
 come ; and as he had no footing he was obliged to retreat, 
 
 " As soon as he got fairly down upon the greensward 
 there beneath, she came at his call, and accompanied him 
 on his way home, but left him. Her secret was now dis- 
 covered, and she did not choose to trust herself any more 
 in the power of her owners. What was to be done ? 
 Their darling and chief support was lost to them, and that 
 by a sort of mystery which they could not comprehend. 
 They slept none all that night, consulting what was best 
 to be done ; and at length came to the resolution to go 
 together and storm the cave. Kenet hesitated ; but the 
 curiosity of his mother prevailed, though she attributed it 
 all to necessity. So, after stuffing her lap with all the 
 herbs and good things that Earba loved, the two sallied 
 out at dawn, and reached this cave by sunrising. They 
 had resolved to take Earba by surprise ; but a woman's 
 tongue, even in a whisper, long as it is, proved not longer 
 than a goat's ears. Before they were half-way up, by 
 different routes, the one coming by that step there, and 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 337 
 
 the other by this one here, Earba appeared on the verge 
 with looks of great uneasiness. She answered to her 
 name by a shrill bleat ; but when Oighrig held out kail- 
 blades to her, and the finest herbs, she would not taste 
 them, but stood there tramping with her foot and whist- 
 ling through her nostrils, determined to resist all encroach- 
 ments on her premises to the death. 
 
 " But instinct is unfairly opposed to reason: by throwing 
 a noose over her horns, and holding down her head, Kenet 
 succeeded in mounting to this platform where we sit. Till 
 that instant all had been quiet ; but, when the goat fell a 
 struggling and bleating, there issued from that dark 
 corner there a beautiful little child, creeping with great 
 velocity, and crying out ' mam-mam, mam-mam." 
 
 " ' Sirre gleidh Dia more !' roared Kenet, and half 
 threw himself over that precipice, not taking two steps on 
 the whole. Oighrig still held by the rope that kept down 
 Earba's head ; and abusing her son for his cowardice in 
 no very measured terms, ordered him to come and hold 
 Earba, and she would enter the cave herself. ' Sithiche, 
 sithiche ! le mair Dia !' shouted Kenet, and made signs 
 for his mother to run for her life. 
 
 " ' What, you fool !' cried Oighrig, in her native 
 tongue, ' and do you think a fairy would be so unreason- 
 able as to wreak any vengeance on us for claiming our 
 own ? Come and hold down the rope here, and keep that 
 perverse beast in order, and I'll face the fairy.' 
 
 * * Kenet took a long grip of the rope at the bottom of the 
 rock, and Earba, finding that he now had it in his power 
 to pull her headlong over, stood quiet, still bleating always 
 in answer to the child's ' mam-mam.' But when Oighrig 
 succeeded in getting up here, where my foot is placed, 
 there the goat was standing with her head held down, and 
 there on that spot, was the loveliest boy sucking her that 
 ever the eye of woman beheld ; so Oighrig said, and so I 
 believe she thought. She started back as she saw, and 
 held up her hands at such an extraordinary sight, crying 
 out ' Did not I tell you, Earba, that you were sucked 
 by the fairies ? 
 
 i. 2 P 
 
338 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 " Oighrig, I believe, never told her any such thing ; 
 but, though convinced in her own mind that the lovely 
 child was a fairy, there is something in woman's feeling 
 heart that clings to a fellow-creature in extremity. It is 
 out of her power to abandon such a being, whatever pri- 
 vations she may suffer in her efforts to mitigate human 
 suffering. But let a helpless infant once come in her 
 way, then all the sympathies of her generous nature 
 overflow, as with a spring-tide. A lovely boy sucking a 
 goat in a cave of the wilderness, was more than poor 
 Oighrig's heart could stand she flew to him, snatched 
 him up in her arms, and shed a flood of tears over him, 
 exclaiming ' Be you a fairy, or be you a fiend, you shall 
 lie in my bosom and have good Earba for your nurse still. 
 Blessings on you, poor and kind-hearted Earba, for pre- 
 serving the life of this dear child!' ' Anam bhur cead- 
 uich comhnuich neamhuidh.'* 
 
 " The child held out his hands to Earba, wept, and 
 continued to cry out ' mam-mam,' while poor Earba an- 
 swered every cry with a bleat. Oighrig caressed the 
 child and blessed him, and promised him that he should 
 lie in her bosom and be fed with Earba's milk, and ride 
 upon her back on a pretty level green. The boy would 
 not be comforted nor soothed, but screamed to be at 
 Earba ; and so Oighrig set him down, when he instantly 
 clasped his little arms round the animal's neck and laid 
 his cheek to hers ; she muttered sounds of kindness over 
 him and licked his hands. Kenet now ascended into the 
 cave, but was in utter terror for the fairy, and kept 
 wildly aloof, threatening, at the same time, to fling the 
 creature headlong over the rocks. 
 
 " ' But you shall first fling the mother that bore you 
 over the rocks,' cried Oighrig. ' Would you take the life 
 
 * I am not sure if this is the very expression used by Mr M'Intire, not being 1 
 a Gaelic scholar, but it is something like it ; for he used in his narrative some? 
 strong short Gaelic sentences, which he swore would not translate, and I 
 believe it. One time I was with a party of gentlemen in Balquhidder, and 
 after dinner, the reverend clergyman of the parish told us a story of a Bal- 
 quhidder lad and a young game cock. It was no story at all. I wondered 
 at it. " It is impossible to tell it in English," said be, and told it shortly in 
 Gaelic, with a triumphant look. The ett'ect was like electricity. The 
 Highland gentlemen rolled upon the floor aud laughed at it. 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 339 
 
 that God has preserved by a miracle, or dash an innocent 
 babe to pieces that a brute beast has taken pity on and 
 saved ?' 
 
 " ' Do you think that being would dash to pieces ?' 
 said Kenet. * A fairy dash to pieces ! You may throw 
 him over there, he will light on a bed of down. You 
 may throw him into the flame, he will mount up into the 
 air like a living spark, and laugh at you. You may throw 
 him into the sea, he will swim like a marrot. Do you not 
 see his green dress, his flaxen hair, and light blue eyes ? 
 a fairy, as I breathe !' 
 
 " He is no such thing, hind, but as good flesh and 
 blood as you ;' ' and a great deal better,' cried a voice 
 from that darksome den, right behind Kenet, who almost 
 jumped out of his skin with fright. And instantly there 
 rushed forth a comely girl to the heart of the stage here, 
 as we may call it. Her air was wild, her apparel torn, 
 and famine painted in her youthful features, which, never- 
 theless, bore decisive traces of youth and beauty. ' The 
 child is mine !' cried she. ' The dear babe is mine ! in wo 
 and in weakness have I watched over him ; and journeyed 
 both by sea and land to save his dear life, until now that 
 my strength is exhausted, and had it not been for this 
 dear creature, which I wiled and bribed into the cave for 
 our assistance, we should both long ago have perished of 
 want.' 
 
 " ' Your child, dear heart !' said Oighrig. ' If he had 
 been your child, would you not have nursed him 
 yourself, and not set him out to nurse on a poor old 
 woman's goat, which is her principal dependence ? Your 
 son, indeed ! Now, I wish I were as sure of living in 
 heaven as that you never had a child in your life.' 
 
 " The girl blushed exceedingly, and hid her face and 
 wept. But the sight of this youthful and half-famished 
 beauty wrought a great change in Kenet's mind with re. 
 gard to the child of the fairies. He now perceived a 
 glimmer of human nature to beam through the mystery, or 
 rather through the eyes of a lovely female, which often 
 convey powerful arguments to the hearts of young men. 
 
340 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 " ' Come, come now, mother, don't be going too strictly 
 into your researches; for though you be exceedingly wise 
 in your own conceit, yet you may be mistaken. Many a 
 mother has had a child who could not nurse it, and so 
 young a one as she is may well be excused. One thing 
 only is certain at present, and that is, that the helpless 
 couple must go home with us, for we cannot leave 
 them to perish here.' 
 
 " ' And that is most certain, indeed,' said Oighrig, 
 wiping her eyes ; * and God be blessing you for a dear lad 
 for first making the proposal ; for if you had left them 
 here I would have staid with them. And now I know 
 that when mercy, and kindness, and necessity require it, 
 you will hunt double and tish double, and we shall live 
 more sumptuously than ever we did before.' 
 
 " ' Ay, and that I will, mother. And now, M'Gabhar 
 (son of the goat), come you on my back, and we'll march 
 in grand battle array home.' 
 
 '* Kenet had now got a new stimulus. His success in 
 hunting and fishing astonished even old Oighrig herself, 
 who daily declared, that if Kenet had ten of a family it 
 would be all the same to him, for he would maintain them 
 all, and more. The girl's name was Flora; and she told 
 them that the boy's Christian name was Ewan, but she 
 would not say the patronymic name of either, so the boy 
 got the name of M'Gabhar until his dying day. 
 
 " They lived as happily together as ever a little group 
 did in such a wilderness ; Earba got kids of her own, and 
 Ewan herded and fed them, with a daily acknowledg- 
 ment of their fraternity. Flora grew as plump as a doe 
 in autumn, and far, far too lovely for the peace of poor 
 Kenet's heart. From the moment that he first saw her in 
 the cavern here, when she came -out of that dark hole, 
 with her ragged array and dishevelled locks, there was a 
 spontaneous leaning of affection towards her, which at 
 once disarmed him of his rancour against the child of the 
 fairies: but now, when well fed and living at ease, and in 
 the full blow of her beauty, Kenet found himself fairly 
 her slave. Though he had never spoken of love to her, 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 341 
 
 there were, nevertheless, a kindness and suavity of man- 
 ner expressed towards him, in all their field-labours and 
 daily transactions, which made him hope and believe that 
 the affection between them was mutual. But before 
 entering on such a serious concern as a life-rent lease of 
 Flora, he, like a dutiful son, thought proper to consult his 
 mother about it. 
 
 "'Do you think Flora is really the mother of little 
 Ewan? because, if she is, it is not fair to call him 
 M'Gabhar he should be called M'Aillaidh (son of the 
 beautiful). Tell me truly what you think of this, 
 mother.' 
 
 " ' Do I think that you are the mother of the boy, son 
 Kenet? That would not be a very natural thought for 
 me to take up, would it ? Then you are just as much the ^ 
 mother of the boy as maighdean Flora is. Do you think , 
 I have lived so long in the world and not know oigh neo- '^-. 
 chirramach from bean muither? Just as well as you know 
 a red deer from a goat, Kenet ; and you may take my 
 word for it that Flora is a virgin as pure as on the day 
 that she was born.' 
 
 " ' I rejoice to hear you say so, my dear old mother; 
 for I am going to take Flora for a wife to me, and I 
 should not have much liked to take another man's wife, 
 or his mistress, in that capacity.' 
 
 "' You take Flora for a wife, son Kenet! You may 
 as well think of taking the queen of heaven for a wife, 
 which is the moon. Cannot you perceive that Flora is a 
 great-born lady, and doubtless the daughter of a king; 
 and for a poor young forester to think of marrying a king's 
 daughter is a vain thought. That sword and mantle, 
 which she preserves with such care for the boy, and which 
 were his father's, show that he is at least the son of a 
 king ; and I have no doubt that she is his sister, who has 
 fled with the boy from some great and imminent danger 
 for she has told me that both their lives depend on the 
 strictest concealment. Let us therefore be kind to them 
 and protect them in close concealment, and our fortunes, 
 by and by, will be made. But, as I said before, you may 
 
342 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 as well expect that the moon will stoop down to be your 
 wife as that Flora will ; so never bring your kind heart 
 into any trouble about that.' 
 
 "This was a cutting speech to Kenet, and made his 
 spirit sink within him, for he had calculated on the beauty 
 as his own, thrown as she was on his special protection. 
 But he bowed to his mother's insinuation, and remained 
 respectful and attentive, sighing for love in secret, and 
 cherishing the dangerous passion more and more, but 
 never made mention of it to Flora. Young Ewan grew 
 apace, was a healthy and hardy boy, of a proud, positive 
 disposition ; and though clad in the homeliest mountain 
 array, had an eye, a form, and an expression of features, 
 which could never be mistaken for a peasant's child ; for 
 over all this country the two classes are a distinct species. 
 
 "They were surprised and greatly deranged one day 
 by the great Lord Downan, the chief, coming to their 
 cottage with his train ; nor did they ever see him till he 
 alighted at the door ; and Kenet being one of his own 
 foresters, he entered without ceremony, and jocosely 
 blamed him for not being out with them at the hunt. Kenet 
 excused himself in an embarrassed, confused way, as not 
 knowing of it ; but Lord Downan, casting his eyes on the 
 beautiful and blushing Flora 'Ah, Kenet! I excuse you, 
 I excuse you,' exclaimed he; 'I did not know you had 
 brought a wife home to Corry-dion ; and, upon my word, 
 Kenet, a prettier one never tripped over the hills of 
 Lutterewe. How comes it that I knew nothing of this? 
 
 " ' Oh, you do not know the half that is done among 
 your mountains and forests, my lord,' said Kenet. 
 
 " ' But I ought to have known, and to have been at 
 the wedding, too, you know, Kenet ;' said Lord Downan. 
 * You have not recognised your chief's right there. But, 
 pray tell me where you got that flower; for I am sure 
 she was not a Kenetdale maiden, else my eye would have 
 caught her before now.' 
 
 "' No; I got her not so far from home/ said Kenet, 
 terribly perplexed, and changing colours. 
 
 " 'I perceive there is some secret here, Kenet,' said 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 343 
 
 Downan; ' but with your chief there ought to he none.' 
 Tell me, then, where you found this maiden, for I do not 
 think she is of my vassals ; and I have a peculiar reason 
 for wishing to know where you got her, and who she is.' 
 
 " * I got her on -your own lands, my lord. She is of 
 your own clan, for any thing I know to the contrary ; and 
 you know my wife must be your vassal.' 
 
 " 'Your wife, Kenet? No, that gem cannot be your 
 wife; she was formed for the chamber of a lord or a 
 king.' 
 
 " ' Then, where is this boy come from, my lord, if she 
 is not my wife?' 
 
 " ' Not from you. It is a mystery, I perceive that well 
 enough; a runaway story a matter of deep conceal- 
 ment ; but I'll probe it, as it may concern myself perhaps 
 too nearly : and, to make sure of coming to the real truth, 
 I shall take the maiden along with me ; so you may make 
 ready, my pretty dear, for your immediate journey to 
 Downan castle.' 
 
 " * O no, no, my good lord and chief, do not speak of 
 a thing so unjust and cruel. If you take her, you shall 
 take me, too ; for you shall never part Flora and I.' 
 
 "'Flora! Flora!' cried Lord Downan; 'that is no 
 name of our clan ; no, but a polite one among our ene- 
 mies. Why won't you tell me the truth, hind ? I charge 
 you to do it, then, before I sever your head from your 
 body at one stroke.' 
 
 " Kenet trembled, for he had nothing to tell, and knew 
 not what to say ; but Flora sprung forward, and kneeling, 
 with tears in her eyes, she implored him to leave her with 
 her poor husband and child, for that her life was bound 
 up in them ; and for him to take the wife of a poor 
 forester of his own to his lordly halls would bring dis- 
 grace upon himself, and ruin her own peace of mind for 
 ever.' 
 
 " Lord Downan raised his eyes with astonishment. ' I 
 cannot comprehend this !' exclaimed he. * Your address 
 proves it to me beyond a doubt that you are of the best 
 blood of the land, or of some other land, for your tongue 
 
344 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 differs from ours. But the avowal, from your own lips, 
 that you are the wife of my own young forester, con- 
 founds me. Yet I do not believe it ; women are deceit- 
 ful. Go with me, Flora, I will be kind to you; and 
 whatever has been your fate, you may confide in my 
 honour.' 
 
 " Then all the little group set up a lamentation ; and 
 Kenet, in the plenitude of his misery, exclaimed, 'And 
 poor little M'Gabhar, what will become of you !' 
 
 " At the name, Lord Downan started again to his feet. 
 ' M'Gabhar! What is the meaning of that name ?' cried 
 he. * There is something ominous to our family and 
 name in that patronymic ; for there is a legend of a 
 thousand years which bears that 
 
 ' The son of the goat shall triumphantly bear 
 The mountain on flame and the horns of the* deer 
 From forest of Loyne to the hill of Ben-Croshen 
 From mountain to vale, and from ocean to ocean.' 
 
 * Thou art a stem worthy to be looked after, little blue- 
 eyed M'Gabhar; the first, I am sure, who ever bore the 
 name. So thou and thy lovely protectress shall both go 
 with me.' 
 
 " ' I will not go, my lord, that is peremptory,' said 
 Flora. ' If you take me, you shall force me ; and if you 
 proffer force, I'll die before I yield. So take your choice 
 to leave me at peace, or kill both me and my dear 
 boy.' 
 
 " 'I yield for the present,' said Lord Downan, 'for 
 forcibly on a woman shall my hand never be laid. But, 
 Kenet, I trust the beautiful pair with you, and keep them 
 safe till my return, as you shall answer with your head. 
 I will make inquiries, and see them soon again ; and, lovely 
 Flora, whatever your secret may be, you may depend on 
 my honour. I make a present to you of the best stag of 
 my quarry, to help your fare, and hope soon to place you 
 in a situation that better becomes your rank and condition ;' 
 and then kissing her, he bade her adieu ; but left a bold 
 kinsman with them as a guard upon both, being a little 
 jealous of their future movements. 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 345 
 
 "Their situation was now most critical, and Flora's 
 distress extreme ; yet she showed no signs of it before 
 Hector, Lord Downan's friend, who accompanied Kenet 
 to the fishing and hunting, and both were equally well 
 received when they came home, and kindly treated. The 
 circumstance of having been acknowledged as the husband 
 of Flora by her own lips, had raised the poor fellow's 
 spirits, so that, for all their jeopardy, he perhaps never 
 was so happy. But one evening when they came home, 
 all the three were a-missing. Kenet called here and 
 called there ; and then, with troubled looks, said, * they will 
 be out milking the goats and will be home anon. God 
 grant they may not have wandered among the rocks.' 
 
 " ' Is this not some stratagem, Kenet ?' said Hector : 
 ' for it appears strange to me that two women and a boy 
 should desert by themselves, without any to protect them; 
 therefore, take you care and do not you desert too, else 
 the best shaft that I have shall overtake you.' 
 
 " ' As I live and breathe/ said Kenet, 'any intention 
 of desertion was utterly unknown to me ; and, therefore, 
 I am certain, that if they are gone, they must have been 
 carried off by force. We will search to-morrow, and if 
 we find them not we will both haste to my lord for assis- 
 tance. If my wife, my child, and my parent, are lost, 
 what is to become of me !' 
 
 -." The two young men went to no bed, nor slept they 
 any that night. They went often to the door and called, 
 but they were only mocked by a hundred echoes from 
 the rocks that surrounded them. Even Earba answered 
 not to her name ; and that was the first circumstance 
 which made Kenet supect some deep-laid and desperate 
 plot. 
 
 '* Next morning they were standing ready at break of 
 day to begin the search. Kenet had strong hopes that he 
 should find them once more here in Tol-au-Kigh ; but Hec- 
 tor was sulky and ill-humoured, suspecting that he was 
 duped, and likewise that his neck might suffer on account 
 of his remissness. 
 
 " Kenet knew that no living man was aware of the 
 
346 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 cave, and there were many hundreds of yawning openings 
 among the rocks much liker a cave than it, he was 
 therefore very cautious how he approached it in view of 
 Hector ; but found means in the course of the day, to 
 make a signal, which was answered, and then he knew 
 all was right. The only remaining difficulty now was to 
 get quit of Hector ; but that proved easier than was ap- 
 prehended, for he vanished that very day on the hill, and 
 hasted home with the news to his lord, convinced that he 
 was duped, and that the party had planned an escape to 
 another country. 
 
 " What to do the party knew not. They could not 
 abide in the cave, for Kenet durst not go out either to 
 fish or to hunt, and they were terrified for the sloth- 
 hounds; so they decamped that night and went down to 
 the shore, where they hid themselves, and waited the 
 appearance of some boat to take them from Lord 
 Downan's dominions, that being their chief concern for 
 the present, Flora having imbibed a terror for that family 
 which was to the rest quite unaccountable. Earba 
 followed them with her two remaining kids, she being still 
 as much attached to Ewan as any of them. 
 
 " The next day, towards evening, a vessel approached 
 as from the coast of Sky, and came into Pool-ewe, where 
 she cast anchor, and a boat came towards the shore. 
 Kenet and Flora went down, hand in hand, to ask for a 
 passage to the islands, old Oighrig remaining on the top 
 of the promontory, with the boy, the goats, and the stuff, 
 until the two returned to help her to remove them. But 
 never, till the barge's prow was within half a stone-cast 
 of the land, did Kenet and Flora know or suspect that 
 this was a party of Lord Downan's men, sent for the ex- 
 press purpose of preventing their escape ; while another 
 party, with the sloth-hounds, were behind them. The 
 two took to their heels and fled like two deers taken by 
 surprise ; but the roughness of the ground entangled the 
 maiden ; they were soon overtaken, seized, and carried to 
 the vessel, with loud rejoicings of the crew for their in- 
 stant success ; but, oh ! what a grievous scene it was to 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 347 
 
 the two captives, as well as to Oighrig and little Ewan, to 
 be separated from them, and know not to what quarter of 
 the world they were taken. Flora's distress it is impos- 
 sible to describe ; she wept incessantly, and called on the 
 name of the boy ; and had Lord Downan been there, he, 
 doubtless, would have caused his men to return for Oighrig 
 and the boy ; but as their lord's great anxiety seemed to 
 be the attainment of the young lady and his disingenuous 
 forester, the men returned with their prize, looking for 
 nothing further. 
 
 " Oighrig, altogether forlorn and destitute, wist not 
 what to do. She thought of returning to her cot, but, 
 with her baggage, was not able ; neither had she any mode 
 of subsistence when there. All places were now alike to 
 her, only she wished to sail or to travel southward after 
 her son and darling Flora. Some of her poor clansmen on 
 the shore protected her and her little store, consisting 
 of three goats, three baskets, and a small locked chest or 
 cage, in which were the boy's sword, mantle, and some 
 jewels, for several days ; and at length they spoke a 
 vessel, which promised to take them to Castle Downan, 
 where Oighrig was sure she would hear some news of her 
 son, either good or bad. But, whether by chance or 
 design, certain it is they took the hapless pair into the 
 country of a great chief, plunderer, and freebooter, called 
 Colin Gillespick." 
 
 " Oighrig and Ewan, with their little store, were taken 
 by the captain of the vessel and deposited in one of his 
 out-houses, with their three goats ; but before he left 
 them he searched all their baggage ; and what was his 
 astonishment when he found the scarlet velvet mantle of 
 state, all fringed and bound with pure gold, and the sword 
 with a handle of gold and ivory, and some mystic char- 
 acters on it! The captain then adjured Oighrig to tell 
 him who this boy was ; and she for herself having no 
 secret to keep, told him all that he was the king's son, 
 and that she found him in a cave with that same old goat 
 nursing him. 
 
 " The man was amazed, as may well be supposed. He 
 
348 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 made straight to his chief, Colin More, with the story and 
 the trophies, who was no less amazed than he ; and being 
 certain that he had a great prize in his power, he lost no 
 time in providing liberally for the boy. Replaced Oighrig 
 in a little hut beside his castle, provided well for her goats, 
 and gave her acow; and E wan he took into his own family, 
 and brought him up with his own sons in all the liberal 
 and warlike arts, with liberty to visit his old protectress 
 daily. 
 
 " But, as the proverb goes, 'blood is thicker than water.' 
 Oighrig grew restless and impatient to learn something of 
 the fate of her own son Kenet ; and finding that the great 
 Colin disapproved of it, for fear of the secret of the illus- 
 trious boy being discovered to a rival chief who appeared 
 to have prior claims, the poor old matron decamped by her- 
 self; and what became of her, or whether she reached Castle 
 Downan or not, tradition has brought down no record. 
 
 " But young Ewan, in the mean time, grew in strength 
 and in favour with all. There was none who could match 
 him in warlike exercises, though these were practised 
 every day at the castle of Colin. 
 
 " A great and bloody war now commenced between 
 Colin More and the king of the country that should have 
 been Ewan's own, of which he knew nothing. Lord 
 Downan was joined with Colin More in this great enter- 
 prise, which they hoped to accomplish easily, a queen 
 (lady) only being at the head of the enemy's affairs. They 
 took one whole kingdom from her, which they plundered 
 and burned (probably Mull); and then, proceeding to the 
 main kingdom with a fleet under which the ocean groan- 
 ed, they went into a long bay which winded twenty miles 
 into the country, and there they landed 20,000 men, who 
 immediately began to burn and plunder, without opposi- 
 tion. 
 
 " At night, the chiefs and a few followers went to their 
 ships for the night, as a safe and comfortable retreat. 
 Their army was encamped at from ten to twenty miles' 
 distance, having seen no appearance of a foe. But before 
 daybreak the chiefs and their attendants got a disagreeable 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 349 
 
 wakening by the lady's captains, who had come quietly 
 up the loch by night, and enclosed the fleet of their ene- 
 mies with few on board to defend it. The conquest was 
 easy. They boarded, and took every man of them pri- 
 soners, not above twenty being slain in a fruitless attempt 
 at defence. Colin More was taken, with two of his sons 
 and Ewan M'Gabhar. Lord Downan also, and three of 
 his brothers, with sixty gentlemen besides, were made pri- 
 soners. The land forces were attacked at the same time, 
 and, though taken by surprise, they defended themselves 
 stoutly, retreating towards their ships. Most of their 
 captains were slain ; and when the retreaters reached the 
 head of the bay, expecting encouragement and aid from 
 their chiefs, they were saluted with the hurras of their 
 enemies. They had no more power ; they were pursued 
 and slaughtered like sheep, and those who escaped were 
 hunted from day to day, till few of all that puissant army 
 were left alive. 
 
 *' When the orders came from the Scottish court for 
 the prosecution of this war, and the great clans began to 
 arise, Ewan was all fire and eagerness for the glorious 
 enterprise, having got the command of a thousand men. 
 During the bustle one morning, ahighlander came to him, 
 and proffered himself as his page : he was of middle age, 
 rather small of stature, and not like a form calculated for 
 the battle-field, which Ewan told him by way of rejection. 
 But every subsequent day the young hero found this page 
 in waiting, and ready to assist with every thing, whether 
 called or not; so that he soon contrived to establish him- 
 self in the good graces of his master, who felt his services 
 and manner peculiarly agreeable to him, and finally he 
 gave him the charge of making up his baggage and attend- 
 ing to it. 
 
 "The nobles and chiefs were conducted prisoners before 
 that gallant and ruthless queen. They found her seated 
 on high beneath a canopy of ermine, supported by great 
 numbers of her chiefs and kinsmen. She rose, and made 
 a long and vehement speech to them, accusing them as 
 the slaves of a tyrant, and of having persecuted, hunted, 
 i. 2 G 
 
350 EVVAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 and destroyed every remnant of her royal race ; but she 
 said that now the judgment of heaven had overtaken 
 them, and her word was, Vengeance for vengeance! 
 
 " She then gave orders that the next morning, begin- 
 ning at nine of the clock, the whole of the prisoners 
 should be brought again into her presence, and hanged by 
 sevens at a time, beginning with the youngest, that the 
 fathers might have the pleasure of beholding the dying 
 throes of then- sons, and that the old men should be re- 
 served for the last. 
 
 " Her guards and executioners were then ordered to 
 begin, who, selecting the seven youngest, led them across 
 the court to make their obeisance to the queen before 
 they were hung up. No sooner had they made their ap- 
 pearance than the queen's hands began to move slowly up- 
 wards, her colour went and came, her bosom palpitated, 
 her lips quivered, and at length she shrieked out, ' O God 
 of heaven ! what do I see? Stop the execution stop!' 
 and down she fell in a swoon. Her maids came to her 
 assistance, and now a hundred shouts rent the air 
 ' A M'Olaw More! a M'Olaw More!' (a son of Olaw the 
 Great) ^and instantly all the queen's chiefs and kinsmen 
 were kneeling around one of the condemned prisoners. 
 This was a tall, goodly, and graceful youth, who ap- 
 proached at the head of the other six, clothed in his 
 father's scarlet robe of state, and his ancient sword of 
 state by his side. It was Ewan. There was no mistak- 
 ing his identity by any one who had seen his father in the 
 days of his prosperity and glory. His mother's heart at 
 once acknowledged her son ; and ere our young hero 
 could comprehend what was in the wind, his hands were 
 loosed, and he was borne on the arms of kinsmen, seated 
 on his father throne, and acknowledged as sole lord and 
 governor of the country; while the shouts of 'A M'Olaw 
 More !' still increased, till all the rocks round the castle of 
 Dunskaigh rang, and the firmament was rent. 
 
 " This great noise and hubbub brought the queen to 
 herself, who again mounted the temporary throne. Give 
 place, young stranger ! cried she : ' I yield not the throne 
 
EWAN M'GABHAR. 351 
 
 of my husband's ancient house on the shallow ground of 
 a mere personal likeness, with those of a pilfered robe and 
 sword. That you are my husband's son my own heart 
 tells me ; but my own son you cannot be, for my child, 
 my beloved Ewan, was foully murdered in his bed by 
 hired ruffians and conspirators, whom I had blindly trust- 
 ed ; and with his innocent life the last lineal heir of the 
 great M'Olaw perished. Therefore declare your lineage 
 and your name, or dare not to approach this honoured 
 and dangerous seat !' And, saying this, she again seated 
 herself on the regal chair. 
 
 " 'Madam, I was hurried, I know not why, from the 
 foot of the gallows to that dignified chair,' said he, ' to 
 which I claim no pretensions. I am called Ewan 
 M'Gabhar. Of my lineage I know nothing, nor is there 
 any one here who can prove it. My lot has been a 
 strange one; but I know, from one who has long been 
 lost, that this robe and that sword were my father's.' 
 
 "The assembled crowd once more began to shout, 'A 
 M'Olaw More!' But the queen ordered silence, and 
 declared that though her senses convinced her of the truth 
 that the youth was a son of M'Olaw, yet unless he was 
 her own son, he could not be the heir of his father, and 
 no illegitimate should ever sway that ancient sceptre/ 
 
 " A lady clothed in dark silk was now admitted, who, 
 kneeling at the queen's knee, said, in a vehement voice, 
 so loud that all the vassals might hear, ' Madam, I appear 
 as an important witness here to-day: I am Flora your 
 own youngest sister Flora ! and that gallant youth who 
 stands by your side is your own son Ewan, the only sur- 
 viving son of the great M'Olaw.' 
 
 " The queen then embraced her son and sister alter- 
 nately, and placed Ewan on his father's throne amid the 
 most extravagant shouts of approbation. Flora then re- 
 lated, in their hearing, how that love had whispered to her 
 that the conspirators were in the castle who had under- 
 taken, for a great bribe, to murder at night that last remain- 
 ing stem of a dangerous house ; and how she gave up her 
 bed to the wife and child of one of the conspirators, whose 
 
352 EWAN M'GABHAR. 
 
 cruel deaths satisfied the ruffians and procured them their 
 reward, while at the same time it prevented any pursuit or 
 subsequent search after Flora and her piecious charge; 
 though of that circumstance she remained long ignorant, 
 which kept her in great alarm. The rest of her story has 
 already been related, saving the last scene. When she heard 
 that Ewan was going to engage in that unnatural and exter- 
 minating war against his mother and kinsmen, she left her 
 husband and family, and, in the habit of a page, had ac- 
 companied her young hero on the enterprise. She had 
 taken care to bring the precious proofs along with her, 
 and, as a page, her own hands had arrayed him in the 
 very mode in which his father was wont to wear them, 
 certain of the effect. 
 
 " Ewan's first act of authority was to go and loose all 
 his condemned associates with his own hands. Their joy 
 and astonishment may well be conceived. He entertained 
 them gallantly at his castle for many days, and there a 
 friendly league was framed, which has preserved the peace 
 and tranquillity of those realms to this day. Ewan after- 
 wards married Mary, Lord Downan's youngest daughter, 
 and by his bravery and policy greatly increased the do- 
 minions of that potent house ; so that the old prophecy 
 relating to the ' son of the goat' was literally fulfilled." 
 


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