THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 
 FOR THE 
 ENGLISH READING ROOM
 
 WILSON S 
 
 TALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND: 
 
 ft mnft Iwa0lttttw. 
 
 WITH A GLOSSARY. 
 
 EEVISED BY 
 
 ALEXANDER LEIGHTON, 
 
 ONE OF THE ORIGINAL EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS. 
 
 VOL. V. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 WILLIAM P. NIMMO.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page, 
 THE CRIPPLE ; OB, EBENEZER THB DISOWNED 
 
 (John Mackay Wilson) 1 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIBCONNEL 
 
 (Alexander Leighton) 23 
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN (Oliver Richardson) 55 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S TALES (Professor Thomas Gillespie) 
 
 THE THREE BRETHREN 87 
 
 THE MISTAKE EECTIFIED 97 
 
 DURA DEN; OR, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST 106 
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKT'S How (Alexander Campbell) 119 
 
 THE ABDUCTION (Alexander Leighton) 151 
 
 SIB PATRICK HUME : A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF MARCHMONT 
 
 (John Mackay Wilson) 167 
 
 THE SERJEANT'S TALES (John Howell) 
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON 178 
 
 CHARLES LAWSON (John Mackay Wilson) 210 
 
 BON GAULTIER'S TALES (Theodore Mar tin) 
 
 MRS. HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY 217 
 
 THE RECLUSE OF THE HEBRIDES (Walter Logan) 230 
 
 ELLEN ARUNDEL (Walter Logan) 238 
 
 CHATELARD (Alexander Campbell) 243 
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK (Alexander Leighton) 275
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT (John Mackay Wilson) 1 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THB SIEGE OF PERTH (Alexander Leighton) 34 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S TALES (Professor Thomas GUlespic) 
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME 66 
 
 THE MEDAL 77 
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S (Oliver Richardson) 85 
 
 THE STORY OF MAY DARLING (John Francis Smith) 117 
 
 I CANNA BE FASHED; OR, WILLIE GRANT'S CONFESSIONS 
 
 (John Mackay Wilson) 119 
 TALES OF THE EAST NEUK OF FIFE.... (Matthew Forstcr Conotty) 
 
 THE CASTLE OF GRAIL; OR, KING DAVID AND MAUDE 1C5 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE CHURCH OF ABERCROMBIE 183 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE MAY 190 
 
 CALEB CRABBIN ( Alexander Leighton) 196 
 
 THE SERJEANT'S TALES (John Hoioell) 
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MAEBIAOE 215 
 
 THE BEWILDERED SIUDEHT (John Bethune) 247 
 
 THE CROOKED CoMyN,,.. 3 .,, Cii;jD . (Alexander Leighton) 279
 
 WILSON'S 
 ALES OF THE BOKDEES, 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 THE CRIPPLE; OE, EBENEZEK THE DISOWNED. 
 
 IT is proverbial to say, with reference to particular consti- 
 tutions or habits of body, that May is a trying month, and 
 we have known what it is to experience its trials in the 
 sense signified. With our grandmothers too, yea, and with 
 our grandfathers also, May was held to be an unlucky 
 month. Nevertheless, it is a lovely, it is a beautiful month, 
 and the forerunner of the most healthy of the twelve. It 
 is like a timid maiden blushing into womanhood, wooing 
 and yet shrinking from the admiration which her beauty 
 compels. The buds, the blossoms, the young leaves, the 
 tender flowers, the glittering dew-drops, and the song of 
 birds, burst from the grasp of winter as if the God of na- 
 aire whispered in the sunbeams " Let there be life !" But 
 it is in the morning only, and before the business of the 
 world summons us to its mechanical and artificial realities, 
 that the beauties of May can be felt in all their freshness. 
 We read of the glories of Eden, and that the earth was 
 cursed because of man's transgression; yet, when we look 
 abroad upon the glowing landscape, above us, and around 
 us, and behold the pure heavens like a sea of music floating 
 over us, and hear the earth answer it back in varied melody, 
 while mountain, wood, and dale, seem dreaming in the 
 Bound, and stealing into loveliness, we almost wonder that 
 a bad man should exist in the midst of a world that is still 
 
 VOL. IX. A
 
 2 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 so beautiful, and where every object around him is a repre- 
 sentative of the wisdom, the goodness, the mercy, the purity, 
 and the omnipotence of his Creator. There is a language in 
 the very wild-flowers among our feet that breathes a lesson 
 of virtue. We can appreciate the feeling with which the 
 poet beheld 
 
 " The last rose of summer left blooming alone;" 
 but in the firstlings of the spring, the primrose, the lily, 
 and their early train, there is an appeal that passes beyond 
 our senses. They are like the lispings and the smiles of in- 
 fancy lowly preachers, emblems of our own immortality, 
 and we love them like living things. They speak to us of 
 childhood and the scenes of youth, and memory dwells in 
 their very fragrance. Yes, May is a beautiful month it is 
 a month of fair sights and of sweet sounds. To it belongs 
 the lowly primrose blushing by the brae-side in congregated 
 beauty, with here and there a cowslip bending over them 
 like a lover among the flowers; the lily hanging its head 
 by the brook that reflects its image, like a bride at the altar, 
 as if conscious of its own loveliness; the hardy daisy on the 
 green sward, like a proud man struggling in penury with 
 the storms of fate. Now, too, the blossoms on a thousand 
 trees unfold their rainbow hues; the tender leaves seem in- 
 stinct with life, and expand to the sunbeams; and the 
 bright fields, like an emerald sea, wave their first undula- 
 tions to the breeze. The lark pours down a flood of melody 
 on the nest of its mate, and the linnet trills a lay of love to 
 its partner from the yellow furze. The chaflinch chants 
 in the hedge its sweet but unvaried line of music; the thrush 
 hymns his bold roundelay; and the blackbird swells the 
 chorus; while the bird of spring sends its voice from the 
 glens, like a wandering echo lost between love and sadness; 
 and the swallow, newly returned from warmer climes or ita 
 winter sleep, 
 
 " Twitters from the straw-built shed."
 
 THE CRIPPLE; OR, EBENEZEB THE DISOWNED. 3 
 
 The insect tribe leap into being, countless in numbers and 
 matchless in livery, and their low hum swims like the em- 
 bodiment of a dream in the air. The May-fly invites the 
 angler to the river, while the minnow gambols in the brook; 
 the young salmon sports and sparkles in the stream, and the 
 grey trout glides slowly beneath the shadow of a rock in the 
 deep pool. To enjoy for a single hour in a May morning 
 the luxuries which nature spreads around to wander in its 
 fields and in its woods to feel ourselves a part of God's 
 glad creation to feel the gowan under our feet, and health 
 circulating through our veins with the refreshing breeze, is 
 a recipe worth all in the Materia Medica. 
 
 Now, it was before sunrise on such a morning in May as 
 I have described, that a traveller left the Black Bull in 
 Wooler, and proceeded to the Cheviots. He took his route 
 by way of Earle and Langleeford; and, at the latter place, 
 leaving the long and beautiful glen, began to ascend the 
 mountain. On the cairn, which is perhaps about five hun- 
 dred yards from what is called the extreme summit of the 
 mountain, he met an old and intelligent shepherd, from 
 whom he heard many tales, the legends of the mountains 
 and amongst others, the following story: 
 
 Near the banks of one of the romantic streams which take 
 their rise among the Cheviots, stood a small and pleasant, 
 and what might be termed respectable or genteel-looking 
 building. It stood like the home of solitude, excluded by 
 mountains from the world. Beneath it, the rivulet wan- 
 dered over its rugged bed; to the east rose Cheviot, the 
 giant of the hills; to the west, lesser mountains reared their 
 fantastic forms, thinly studded here and there with dwarf 
 alders, which the birds of heaven had planted, and their 
 progeny had nestled in their branches; to the north and the 
 south stretched a long and secluded glen, where beauty 
 blushed in the arms of wildness and thick woods, where 
 ihe young fix and the oak of the ancient forest grew together.
 
 4 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 flourished beneath the shelter of the hills. Fertility also 
 smiled by the sides of the rivulet, though the rising and 
 Betting sun threw the shadows of barrenness over it. Around 
 the cottage stood a clump of solitary firs, and behind it an 
 enclosure of alders, twisted together, sheltered a, garden 
 from the storms that swept down the hills. 
 
 Now, many years ago, a stranger woman, who brought 
 with her a female domestic and a male infant, became the 
 occupant of this house among the hills. She lived more 
 luxuriously than the sheep-farmers in the neighbourhood, 
 and her accent was not that of the Borders. She was be- 
 tween forty and fifty years of age, and her stature and 
 strength were beyond the ordinary stature and strength of 
 women. Her manners were repulsive, and her bearing 
 haughty; but it seemed the haughtiness of a weak and un- 
 educated mind. Her few neighbours, simple though they 
 were, and little as they saw or knew of the world, its in- 
 habitants and its manners, perceived that the stranger who 
 had come amongst them had not been habituated to the 
 affluence or easy circumstances with which she was then 
 surrounded. The child also was hard-favoured, and of a 
 disagreeable countenance; his back was strangely deformed; 
 his feet were distorted, and his limbs of unequal length. 
 No one could look upon the child without a feeling of com- 
 passion, save the woman who was his mother, his nurse, or 
 his keeper (for none knew in what relation she stood to 
 him), and she treated him as a persecutor, who hated his 
 sight, and was weary of his existence. 
 
 She gave her name as Mrs Baird; and, as the child grew 
 up, she generally in derision called him "^Esop" or, in ha- 
 tred, "the little monster!" but the woman-servant called 
 him Ebenezer, though she treated him with a degree of 
 harshness only less brutal than she whom he began to call 
 mother. We shall, therefore, in his history mention him by 
 the name of Ebenezer Baird. As he grew in years, the difi-
 
 THE CRIPPLE; OK, EBENEZER THE DISOWNED. 5 
 
 agreeable expression of his countenance became stronger, 
 his deformity and lameness increased, and the treatment 
 he had experienced added to both. 
 
 When nine years of age, he was sent to a boarding-school 
 about twelve miles distant. Here a new series of persecu- 
 tions awaited him. Until the day of his entering the school, 
 he was almost ignorant that there was an alphabet. He 
 knew not a letter. He had seen one or two books, but he 
 knew not their use: he had never seen any one look upon 
 them; he regarded them merely as he did a picture a piece 
 of useless furniture, or a plaything. Lame as he was, he 
 had climbed the steep and the dripping precipice for the 
 eggs of the water-ouzel, sought among the crags for the 
 young of the gorgeous kingfisher, or climbed the tallest trees 
 in quest of the crested wrens, which chirped and fluttered 
 in invisible swarms among the branches.* The birds were 
 to him companions; he wished to rear their young, that they 
 might love him, for there was a lack of something in his 
 heart he knew not what it was but it was the void of 
 being beloved, of being regarded. It is said that nature 
 abhors a vacuum, and so did the heart of Ebenezer. He 
 knew not what name to give it, but he longed for something 
 that would show a liking for him, and to which he could 
 show a liking in return. The heart is wicked, but it is not 
 unsocial its affections wither in solitariness. When he 
 strolled forth on these rambles about the glen, having asked 
 the permission of his mother or keeper (call her what you 
 will) before he went, "Go, imp! ^Esop!" she was wont to 
 exclaim, " and I shall pray that you may break your neck 
 
 * The water-ouzel, the kingfisher, and the crested wren, abound in 
 the vicinity of the Cheviots, though the latter beautiful little creature 
 is generally considered as quite a rara avis; and last year one being 
 shot about Cumberland, the circumstance went the round of the news- 
 papers ! But the bird is not rare, it is only difficult to be seen, and 
 generally flutters among the leaves and near the top branches.
 
 6 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 before you return." There were no farmers' or shepherds' 
 children within several miles: he had seen some of them, 
 and when they had seen him, they had laughed at his de- 
 formity they had imitated his lameness, and contorted 
 their countenances into a caricatured resemblance of his. 
 Such were poor Ebenezer's acquirements, and such his ac- 
 quaintance with human nature, when he entered the board- 
 ing-school. A primer was put into his lianas. " What must 
 I do with it 1 ?" thought Ebenezer. He beheld the rod of 
 correction in the hands of the teacher, and he trembled for 
 his misshapen shoulders were familiar with such an instru- 
 ment. He heard others read, he saw them write; and he 
 feared, wondered, and trembled the more. He thought that 
 he would be called upon to do the same, and he knew he 
 could not. He had no idea of learning he had never 
 heard of such a thing. He thought that he must do as he 
 saw others doing at once, and he cast many troubled looks 
 at the lord of a hundred boys. When the name of " Ebe- 
 nezer Baird" was called out, he burst into tears, he sobbed, 
 terror overwhelmed him. But when the teacher approached 
 him kindly, took him from his seat, placed him between 
 his knees, patted his head, and desired him to speak after 
 him, the heart of the little cripple was assured, and more 
 than assured; it was the first time he had experienced kind- 
 ness, and he could have fallen on the ground and hugged 
 the knees of his master. The teacher, indeed, found Ebe- 
 nezer the most ignorant scholar he had ever met with, but 
 he was no tyrant of the birch, though to his pupils 
 
 "A man severe be was, and stern to view;" 
 and though he had all the manners and austerity of the old 
 school about him, he did not lay his head upon the pillow 
 with his arm tired by the incessant use of the ferula. He 
 was touched with the simplicity and the extreme ignorance 
 of his new boarder, and he felt also for his lameness and de- 
 formity. Thrice he went over the alphabet with his pupiS,
 
 THE CKIPPLE; OK, EBENEZEB THE DISOWNED. 7 
 
 commencing, "Big Aw Little Aw" and having got over 
 6, he told him to remember that c was like a half-moon. 
 "Ye'll aye mind c again," added he; "think ye see the 
 moon." Thus they went on to g, and he asked him what 
 the carters said to their horses when they wished them to 
 go faster; but this Ebenezer could not tell carts and horses 
 were sights that he had seen as objects of wonder. They 
 are but seldom seen amongst the hills now, and in those 
 days they were almost unknown. Getting over h, he strove 
 to impress i upon the memory of his pupil, by touching the 
 solitary grey orbit in his countenance (for Ebenezer had 
 but one), and asking him what he called it. " My e'e," an- 
 swered Ebenezer. 
 
 " No, sir, you must not say your e'e, but your eye mind 
 that; and that letter is /." 
 
 The teacher went on, showing him that he could not for- 
 get round 0, and crooked S; and hi truth, after his first 
 lesson, Ebenezer was master of these two letters. And, 
 afterwards, when the teacher, in trying him promiscuously 
 through the alphabet, would inquire, "What letter is this?" 
 "I no ken," the cripple would reply; "but I'm sure it's no 
 0, and it's no S." Within a week he was master of the six- 
 and-twenty mystical symbols, with the exception of four- 
 and those four were 6 and d, p and q. Ebenezer could not 
 for three months be brought to distinguish the b from the 
 d, nor the p from the q; but he had never even heard that 
 he had a right hand and a left until he came to the school 
 and how could it be expected? 
 
 Scarce, however, had he mastered the alphabet, until the 
 faculties of the deformed began to expand. He now both 
 understood and felt what it was to learn. He passed from 
 class to class with a rapidity that astonished his teacher. He 
 could not join in the boisterous sports of his schoolfellows, 
 and while they were engaged in their pastime, he sought 
 solitude, and his task accompanied him. He possessed
 
 8 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 strong natural talents, and his infirmities gave them the 
 assistance of industry. His teacher noted these things in 
 the cripple, and he was gratified with them; but he hesitated 
 to express his feelings openly, lest the charge of partiality 
 should be brought against him. Ebenezer, however, had 
 entered the academy as the butt of his schoolfellows they 
 mocked, they mimicked, they tormented, they despised, or 
 affected to despise him; and his talents and progress, instead 
 of abating their persecutions, augmented them. His teacher 
 was afraid to show him more kindness than he showed to 
 others; and his schoolfellows gloried in annoying the cripple 
 they persecuted, they shunned, they hated him more than 
 even his mother did. He began to hate the world, for he 
 had found none that would love him. His teacher was the 
 only human being that had ever whispered to him words of 
 praise or of kindness, and that had always been in cold, 
 guarded, and measured terms. 
 
 Before he was eighteen, he had acquired all the know- 
 ledge that his teacher could impart, and he returned to the 
 cottage among the mountains. There, however, he was 
 again subjected to a persecution more barbarous than that 
 which he had met with from his schoolfellows. Mrs Baird 
 mocked, insulted, and drove him from her presence; and 
 her domestic showed him neither kindness nor respect. In 
 stature, he scarcely exceeded five feet; and his body was 
 feeble as well as deformed. .The cruelty with which he had 
 been treated had given an asperity to his temper, and made 
 him almost a hater of the human race; and these feelings 
 had lent their character to his countenance, marking its 
 naturally harsh expression with suspicion and melancholy. 
 
 He was about five-and-twenty when the pangs and the 
 terrors of death fell upon her whom he regarded as his 
 parent. She died as a sinner dies with insulted eternity 
 frowning to receive her. A few minutes before her death, 
 she desired the cripple to approach her bedside. She fixed
 
 THE CRIPPLE; OR, EBENEZEK THE DISOWNED. e 
 
 her closing eyes, which affection had never lighted, upon 
 his. She informed him that he was not her son. 
 
 " Oh, tell me, then, whose son I am ! Who are my pa- 
 rents ?" he exclaimed, eagerly. "Speak! speak!" 
 
 "Your parents!" she muttered; and remorse and igno- 
 rance held her departing soul in their grasp. She struggled; 
 she again continued: "Your parents! no, Ebenezer, no! I 
 dare not name them ! I have sworn I have sworn ! and a 
 death-bed is no time to break an oath !" 
 
 "Speak! speak! Tell me, as you hope for heaven!" 
 cried the cripple, with his thin, bony fingers grasping the 
 wrists of the dying woman. 
 
 "Monster! monster!" she screamed, wildly, and in terror, 
 "leave me leave me! You are provided for open that 
 chest the chest the chest ! " 
 
 Ebenezer loosed his grasp; he sprang towards a strong 
 chest which stood in the room. " The keys ! the keys !" he 
 exclaimed, wildly; and again hurrying to the bed, he vio- 
 lently pulled a bunch of keys from beneath her pillow. But 
 while he applied them to the chest, the herald of death 
 Tattled in the throat of its victim; and, with one agonising 
 throe and a deep groan, her spirit escaped, and her body 
 lay a corpse upon the bed. 
 
 He opened the chest, and in it he found securities, which 
 settled upon him, under the name of Ebenezer Baird, five 
 thousand pounds. But there was nothing which threw 
 light on his parentage nothing to inform who he was, or 
 why he was there. 
 
 The body of her who had never shed a tear over him he 
 accompanied to the grave. But now a deeper gloom fell 
 upon him. He met but few men, and the few he met 
 shunned him, for there was a wildness and a bitterness in 
 his words a railing against the world which they wished 
 not to hear. He fancied, too, that they despised him that 
 their eyes were ever examining the form of his deformities;
 
 10 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 and he returned their glance with a scowl, and their words 
 with the accents of hatred. Even as he passed the solitary 
 farmhouse, the younger children fled in terror, and the 
 elder laughed, or pointed towards him the finger of curio- 
 sity. All these things fell upon the heart of the cripple, 
 and turned the human kindness of his bosom into gall. His 
 companions became the solitude of the mountains, and the 
 silence cf the woods. They heard his bitter soliloquies 
 without reviling him, or echo answered him in tones of 
 sympathy more mournful than his own. He sought a thing 
 that he might love, that might unlock his prisoned heart, 
 or give life to its blighted feelings. He loved the very prim- 
 rose, because it was a thing of beauty, and shrank not from 
 his deformity as man did. To him it gave forth its sweet- 
 ness, and its leaves withered not at his touch; and he bent 
 and kissed the flower that smiled upon him whom his kind 
 avoided. He courted the very storms of winter, for they 
 shunned him not, but spent their fury on his person, uncon- 
 scious of its form. The only living thing that regarded him, 
 or that had ever evinced affection towards him, was a dog, 
 of the mastiff kind, which ever followed at his side, licked 
 his hand, and received its food from it. And on this living 
 thing all the affections that his heart ever felt were ex- 
 pended. He loved it as a companion, a friend, and protector; 
 and he knew it was not ungrateful it never avoided him; 
 but, when mockery or insult was offered to its master, it 
 growled, and looked in his face, as if asking permission to 
 punish the offender. 
 
 Such was the life that he had passed until he was between 
 thirty and forty years of age. Still he continued his soli- 
 tary rambles, having a feeling for everything around him 
 but man. Man only was his persecutor man only despised 
 him. His own kind and his own kindred had shut him out 
 from them and disowned him his sight had been hateful 
 to them, and his form loathsome. He avoided the very
 
 THE CKIPPLE; on, EBENEZEK THE DISOWNED. 11 
 
 eun, for it revealed his shadow; but he wandered in rap- 
 ture, gazing on the midnight heavens, calling the stars by- 
 name, while his soul was lifted up with their glory, and his 
 deformity lost and overshadowed in the depth of their mag- 
 nificence. He loved the flowers of day, the song of morn- 
 ing birds, and the wildness or beauty of the landscape; 
 but these dwindled, and drew not forth his soul as did the 
 awful gorgeousness of night, with its ten thousand worlds 
 lighted up, burning, sparkling, glimmering in immensity 
 the gems that studded the throne of the Eternal. While 
 others slept, the deformed wandered on the mountains, hold- 
 ing communion with the heavens. 
 
 About the period we refer to, a gay party came upon a 
 visit to a gentleman whose mansion was situated about three 
 miles from the cottage of the cripple. As they rode out, 
 they frequently passed him in his wanderings. And when 
 they did so, some turned to gaze on him with a look of pry- 
 ing curiosity, others laughed and called to their companions 
 and the indignation of Ebenezer was excited, and the 
 frown grew black upon his face. 
 
 He was wandering in a wood in the glen, visiting his fa- 
 vourite wild-flowers (for he had many that he visited daily, 
 and each was familiar to him as the face of man to man 
 he rejoiced when they budded, blossomed, and laughed in 
 their summer joy, and he grieved when they withered and 
 died away), when a scream of distress burst upon his ear. 
 His faithful mastiff started, and answered to the sound. 
 He hurried from the wood to whence the sound proceeded 
 as rapidly as his lameness would admit. The mastiff fol- 
 lowed by his side, and, by its signs of impatience, seemed 
 eager to increase its speed, though it would not forsake him. 
 The cries of distress continued, and became louder. On. 
 emerging from the wood, he perceived a young lady rushing 
 wildly towards it, and behind her, within ten yards, followed 
 an infuriated bull. A few moments more, and she must
 
 12 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 have fallen its victim. With an eager howl, the dog sprang 
 from the side of its master, and stood between the lady and 
 her pursuer. Ebenezer forgot his lameness and the feeble- 
 ness of his frame, and he hastened at his utmost speed to 
 the rescue of a human being. Even at that moment a glow 
 of delight passed through his heart, that the despised cripple 
 would save the life of a fellow-mortal of one of the race 
 that shunned him. Ere he approached, the lady had fallen, 
 exhausted and in terror, on the ground. The mastiff kept 
 the enraged animal at bay, and, with a strength such as he 
 had never before exhibited, Ebenezer raised the lady in his 
 arms, and bore her to the wood. He placed her against a 
 tree : the stream passed by within a few yards, and he brought 
 water in the palms of his hands, and knelt over her, to bathe 
 her temples and her fair brow. Her brow was indeed fair, 
 and her face beautiful beyond all that he had looked upon. 
 Her golden hair in wavy ringlets fell upon her shoulders 
 but her deep blue eyes were closed. Her years did not 
 appear to be more than twenty. 
 
 "Beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed the cripple, as he 
 dropped the water on her face, and gazed on it as he spoke 
 " it is wondrous beautiful ! But she will open her eyes 
 she will turn from me as dothjher race! as from the 
 animal that pursued her ! yet, sure she is beautiful ! " and 
 again, as he spoke, Ebenezer sighed. 
 
 The fair being recovered she raised her eyes she gazed 
 on his face, and turned not away from it. She expressed 
 no false horror on beholding his countenance no affected 
 revulsion at the sight of his deformity; but she looked upon 
 him with gratitude she thanked him with tears. The 
 cripple started his heart burned. To be gazed on with 
 kindness, to be thanked, and with tears, and by one so fair, 
 so young, so beautiful, was to him so strange, so new, he 
 half doubted the reality of the scene before him. Before 
 the kindness and gratitude that beamed from her eyes, the
 
 THE CRIPPLE] OB, EBENEZEK THE DISOWNED. 12 
 
 misanthropy that had frozen up his bosom began to dissolve, 
 and the gloom on his features died away, as a vapour before 
 the face of the morning sun. New thoughts fire<? Vs ima- 
 ginationnew feelings transfixed his heart. HJT s^ile fell 
 like a sunbeam on his soul, where light had never before 
 dawned; her accents of gratitude, from the moment they 
 were delivered, became the music of his memory. He found 
 an object on the earth that he could love or shall we say 
 that he did love; for he felt as though already her exist- 
 ence were mysteriously linked to his. We are no believers 
 in what is termed love at first sight. Some romance- writers 
 hold it up as an established doctrine, and love-sick boys and 
 moping girls will make oath to the creed. But there never 
 was love at first sight that a week's perseverance could not 
 wear away. It holds no intercourse with the heart, but is 
 a mere fancy of the eye; as a man would fancy a horse, a 
 house, or a picture, which he desires to purchase. Love is 
 not the offspring of an hour or a day, nor is it the ignis 
 fatuus which plays about the brain, and disturbs the sleep 
 of the youth and the maiden in their teens. It slowly steals 
 and dawns upon the heart, as day imperceptibly creeps over 
 the earth, first with the tinged cloud the grey and the 
 clearer dawn the approaching, the rising, and the risen 
 sun blending into each other a brighter and a brighter 
 shade; but each indistinguishable in their progress and 
 blending, as the motion of the pointers on a watch, which 
 move unobserved as time flies, and we mark not the silent 
 progress of light till it envelop us in its majesty. Such is 
 the progress of pure, holy, and enduring love. It springs 
 not from mere sight, but its radiance grows with esteem; 
 it is the whisper of sympathy, unity of feeling, and mutual 
 reverence, which increases with a knowledge of each other, 
 until but one pulse seems to throb in two bosoms. The 
 feelings which now swelled in the bosom of Ebenezer Baird 
 were not the true and only love which springs from es-
 
 14 TALES OF THE BORDEES. 
 
 teem, but they were akin to it. For though the beauty 
 of the fair being he had rescued had struck his eye, it 
 was not her beauty that melted the misanthropy of his 
 heart, but the tear of gratitude, the voice of thanks, the 
 glance that turned not away from him, the smile the 
 first that woman had bestowed on him that entered 
 his soul. They came from the heart, and they spoke to 
 the heart. 
 
 She informed him that her name was Maria Bradbury, 
 and that she was one of the party then on a visit to the 
 gentleman in his neighbourhood. He offered to accompany 
 her to the house, and she accepted his offer. But it was 
 necessary to pass near the spot where he had rescued her 
 from the fury of the enraged bull. As they drew towards 
 the side of the wood, they perceived that the bull was gone, 
 but the noble mastiff, the friend, companion, and defender 
 of the cripple, lay dead before them. Ebenezer wrung his 
 hands, he mourned over his faithful guardian. 
 
 "Friend! poor Friend!" he cried (the name of the mastiff 
 was Friend), "hast thou, too, left me? Thou, of all the 
 things that lived, alone didst love thy master ! Pardon me, 
 lady, pardon an outcast; but until this hour I have never 
 experienced friendship from man nor kindness from woman. 
 The human race have treated me as a thing that belonged 
 not to the same family with themselves; they have perse- 
 cuted or mocked me, and I have hated them. Start not 
 hatred is an alien to my soul it was not born there, it was 
 forced upon it but I hate not you no! no! You have 
 spoken kindly to me, you have smiled on me ! the despised, 
 the disowned Ebenezer will remember you. That poor dog 
 alone, of all living things, showed affection for me. But he 
 died in a good cause ! Poor Friend ! poor Friend ! where 
 shall I find a companion now?" and the tears of the cripple 
 ran clown his cheeks as he spoke. 
 
 Maria wept also, partly for the fate of the noble animal
 
 THE CKIPPLE; OR, EBENEZER THE DISOWNED. 15 
 
 that had died in her deliverance, and partly from the sorrow 
 of her companion; for there is a sympathy in tears. 
 
 "Ha! you weep!" cried the cripple; " you weep for poor 
 Friend and for me. Bless thee bless thee, fair one ! they 
 are the first that were ever shed for my sake ! I thought 
 there was not a tear on earth for me." 
 
 He accompanied her to the lodge of the mansion where 
 she was then residing, and there he left her, though she in- 
 vited him to accompany her, that he might also receive the 
 congratulations of her frioncls. 
 
 She related to them her deliverance. " Ha ! little Ebe- 
 nezer turned a hero !" cried one; "Ebenezer the cripple be- 
 come a knight-errant!" said another. But they resolved 
 to visit him in a body, and return him their thanks. 
 
 But the soul of the deformed was now changed, and his 
 countenance, though still melancholy, had lost its asperity. 
 His days became a dream, his existence a wish. For the 
 first time he entertained the hope of happiness; it was 
 vain, romantic, perhaps we might say absurd, but he che- 
 rished it. 
 
 Maria spoke much of the courage, the humanity, the 
 seeming loneliness, and the knowledge of the deformed, to 
 her friends; and their entertainer, with his entire party of 
 visiters, with but one exception, a few days afterwards, pro- 
 ceeded to the cottage of Ebenezer, to thank him for his in- 
 trepidity. The exception we have alluded to was a Lady 
 Helen Dorrington, a woman of a proud and haughty temper, 
 and whose personal attractions, if she ever possessed any, 
 were now disfigured by the attacks of a violent temper, and 
 the crow-feet and the wrinkles which threescore years im- 
 print on the fairest countenance. She excused herself by 
 saying, that the sight of deformed people affected her. 
 Amongst the party who visited the cripple was her son, 
 Francis Dorrington, a youth of two-and-twenty, who was 
 haughty, fiery, and impetuous as his mother. He sought
 
 16 TALES OP THE BOEDERS. 
 
 the hand of Maria Bradbury, and he now walked by her 
 side. 
 
 Ebenezer received them coldly; amongst them were some 
 who were wont to mock him as they passed, and he now 
 believed that they had come to gratify curiosity, by gazing 
 on his person as on a wild animal. But, when he saw the 
 smile upon Maria's lips, the benign expression of her 
 glance, and her hand held forth to greet him, his coldness 
 vanished, and joy, like a flash of sunshine, lighted up his 
 features. Yet he liked not the impatient scowl with which 
 Francis Dorrington regarded her attention towards him, 
 nor the contempt which moved visibly on his lip, when she 
 listened delighted to the worda of the despised cripple. He 
 seemed to act as though her eyes should be fixed on him 
 alone her words addressed only to him. Jealousy entered 
 the soul of the deformed; and shall we say that the same 
 feeling was entertained by the gay and the haughty Dor- 
 rington? It was. He felt that, insignificant as the outward 
 appearance of the cripple was, his soul was that of an intel- 
 lectual giant, before the exuberance of whose power the 
 party were awed, and Maria lost in admiration. His tones 
 were musical as his figure was unsightly, and his knowledge 
 universal as his person was diminutive. He discoursed with 
 a poet's tongue on the beauty of the surrounding scenery; 
 he denned the botany and geology of the mountains. He 
 traced effect to cause, and both to their Creator. The party 
 marvelled while the deformed spoke; and he repelled the 
 scowl and contempt of his rival with sarcasm that scathed 
 like passing lightning. These things produced feelings of 
 jealousy also in the breast of Francis Dorrington; though 
 from Maria Bradbury he had never received one smile 
 of encouragement. On their taking leave, the enter- 
 tainer of the party invited Ebenezer to his house, but 
 the latter refused; he feared to mingle with society, 
 for oft as he had associated with man, he had been ren-
 
 THE CEIPPL3; OK, EBENEZER THE DISOWNED. 17 
 
 dered their sport the thing they persecuted the butt of 
 their irony. 
 
 For many days the cripple met, or rather sought, Maria 
 in his solitary rambles; for she, too, loved the solitude of 
 the mountains or the silence of the woods, which is broken 
 only by the plaintive note of the wood-pigeon, the chirm of 
 the linnet, the song of the thrush, the twitter of the chaf- 
 finch, or the distant stroke of the woodman, lending silence 
 a charm. She had become familiar with his deformity, and 
 as it grew less singular to her eyes, his voice became sweeter 
 to her ears. Their conversation turned on many things 
 there was wisdom in his words, and she listened to him as 
 a pupil to a preceptor. His feelings deepened with their in- 
 terviews, his hopes brightened, and felicity seemed dawning 
 before him. As hope kindled, he acquired confidence. They 
 were walking together, he had pointed out the beauties and 
 explained the properties of the wild-flowers on their path, 
 he had dwelt on the virtues of the humblest weed, when he 
 stopped short, and gazing in her face " Maria!" he added, 
 " I have loved these flowers I have cherished those simple 
 weeds, because they shunned me not they shrank not from 
 me, as did the creatures of the human race they spread' 
 their beauties before me they denied me not their sweet- 
 ness. You only have I met with among the children of Adam, 
 who persecuted me not with ridicule, or who insulted not 
 my deformity with the vulgar gaze of curiosity. Who I am 
 I know not from whence I was brought amongst these hills 
 I cannot tell; I am a thing which the world has laughed at, 
 and of which my parents were ashamed. But my wants 
 have been few. I have gold to purchase flattery, if I desired 
 A to buy tongues to tell me I am not deformed; but I de- 
 spise them. My soul partakes not of my body's infirmities 
 it has sought a spirit to love, that would love it in return. 
 Maria, has it found one?" 
 
 Maria was startled she endeavoured to speak, but her 
 
 A 2
 
 18 TALES OF THE BOKDKES 
 
 tongue faltered tears gathered in her eyes, and her looks 
 bespoke pity and astonishment. 
 
 "Fool! fool!" exclaimed the cripple, "I have been de- 
 ceived ! Maria pities me ! only pities me ! Hate me, Maria 
 despise me as does the world. I can bear hatred I- can 
 endure scorn I can repel them ! but pity consumes me ! 
 and pity from you! Fool! fool!" he added, "wherefore 
 dreamed I there was one that would look with love on de- 
 formed Ebenezer? Farewell, Maria! farewell! remember, 
 but do not pity me !" and he hurried from her side. 
 
 She would have detained him she would have told him 
 that she reverenced him that she esteemed him; but he 
 hastened away, and she felt also that she pitied him and 
 love and pity can never dwell in the same breast for the 
 same object. Maria stood and wept. 
 
 Ebenezer returned to his cottage; but the hope which he 
 had cherished, the dream which he had fed, died reluctantly. 
 He accused himself for acting precipitately he believed he 
 had taken the tear of affection for pity. His heart was at 
 war with itself. Day after day he revisited the mountain- 
 side, and the path in the wood where they had met; but 
 Maria wandered there no longer. His feelings, his impa- 
 tience, his incertitude, rose superior to the ridicule of ,man; 
 he resolved to visit the mansion of his neighbour, where 
 Maria and her friends were residing. The dinner-bell was 
 ringing as he approached the house; but he knew little of 
 the etiquette of the world, and respected not its forms. The 
 owner of the mansion welcomed him with the right hand of 
 cordiality, for his discourse in the cottage had charmed him; 
 others expressed welcome, for some who before had mocked 
 now respected him; and Maria took his hand with a look of 
 joy and her wonted sweetness. The heart of Ebenezer felt 
 assured. Francis Dorrington alone frowned, and rose not to 
 welcome him. 
 
 The dinner -bell again rang; the Lady Helen had not
 
 THE CEIPPLE; OE, EBENEZEE THE DISOWNED. 19 
 
 arrived, and dinner was delayed for her, but she caine not. 
 They proceeded to the dining-room. Ebenezer offered his 
 .arm to Maria, and she accepted it. Francis Dorrington 
 muttered angry words between his teeth. The dinner 
 passed the dessert was placed upon the table Lady 
 Helen entered the room she prayed to be excused for her 
 delay her host rose to introduce her to Ebenezer. 
 
 "Ebenezer! the deformed!" she exclaimed, in a tone of 
 terror, and, dashing her hands before her eyes, as he rose 
 before her, she fell back in hysterics. 
 
 "Turn the monster from the house!" cried Francis Dor- 
 rington, springing forward; " my mother cannot endure the 
 sight of such." 
 
 "Whom call ye monster, young man?" said Ebenezer, 
 angrily. 
 
 "You, wretch!" replied Dorrington, raising his hand, 
 and striking the cripple to the floor. 
 
 " Shame ! shame ! " exclaimed the company. 
 
 "Coward!" cried Maria, starting from her seat. 
 
 The cripple, with a rapidity that seemed impossible, 
 sprang to his feet he gasped, he trembled, every joint 
 shook, rage boiled in his veins he glanced at his insulter, 
 who attempted to repeat the blow he uttered a yell of 
 vengeance, he clutched a dessert-knife from the table, and 
 within a moment it was plunged in the body of the man 
 who had injured him. 
 
 A scream of horror burst from the company. Ebenezer, 
 with the reeking knife in his grasp, stood trembling from 
 rage, not from remorse. But he offered not to repeat the 
 blow. A half-consciousness of what he had clone seemed to 
 stay his hand. The sudden scream of the party aroused the 
 Lady Helen from her real or affected fit. She beheld her 
 son bleeding on the floor she saw the vengeful knife in the 
 hands of the cripple. She screamed more wildly than before 
 she wrung her hands !
 
 20 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Monster ! murderer ! " she exclaimed, " he has slain 
 he has slain his brother! " 
 
 "My brother!" shouted Ebenezer, still grasping the knife 
 in his hand. "Woman woman! mother mother! who 
 am I? Answer me who are you?" and he sprang forward r 
 and held her by the arm. "Tell me," he continued, "what 
 mean ye what mean ye? My brother do ye say my 
 brother? Art thou my mother? Have I a mother? Speak 
 speak!" and he grasped her arm more fiercely. 
 
 "Monster!" she repeated, "offspring of my shame! 
 away away! He is thy brother! I have shunned thee, 
 wretch, I have disowned thee; but thou hast carried murder 
 to my bosom!" and, tearing her arm from his grasp, she 
 threw it round the neck of her wounded son. 
 
 The company gazed upon each other. Ebenezer stood 
 for a moment, his eyes rolling, his teeth rattling together, 
 the knife shaking in his hand. He uttered a wild cry of 
 agony he tore the garments from his breast, as though it 
 were ready to burst, and, with the look and the howl of a 
 maniac, he sprang to the door, and disappeared. Some 
 from an interest in his fate, others from a desire to secure 
 him, followed after him. But he fled to the woods, and 
 they traced him not. 
 
 It was found that the wound of Francis Dorrington was 
 not mortal; and the fears of the company were directed 
 from him to Ebenezer, who they feared had laid violent 
 hands upon his own life. 
 
 On the following day, without again meeting the com- 
 pany, Lady Helen left the house, having acknowledged the 
 deformed Ebenezer to be her son a child of shame whose 
 birth had been concealed from the world. 
 
 On the third day, the poor cripple was found by a shep- 
 herd wandering on the hills. His head was uncovered; his 
 garments and his body were torn by the brambles through 
 which he had rushed; his eyes rolled wildly, and, when ac-
 
 THE CRIPPLE; OB, EBENEZEK THE DISOWNED. 21 
 
 costed, he fled, exclaiming, "I am Cain! I am Cain! I 
 have slain my brother ! Touch me not the mark is on my 
 forehead !" He was secured, and taken to a place of safety. 
 
 The circumstances twined round Maria's heart; she heard 
 no more of Ebenezer the cripple, but she forgot him not. 
 Several years passed, and she, together with a friend, visited 
 a lunatic asylum in a distant part of the country, in which 
 a female acquaintance, once the admired of society, had 
 become an inmate. They were shown round the different 
 wards; some of the inmates seemed happy, others melan- 
 choly, but all were mild all shrank from the eye of their 
 keeper. The sound of the clanking chains around their 
 ankles filled Maria's soul with horror, and she longed to 
 depart; but the keeper invited them to visit the garden of 
 his asylum. They entered, and beheld several quiet-look- 
 ing people engaged in digging; others were pruning trees; 
 and some sat upon benches on the paths, playing with their 
 fingers, striking their heels upon the ground, or reading 
 stray leaves of an old book or a newspaper. Each seemed 
 engaged with himself, none conversed with his neighbour. 
 Upon a bench near the entrance to a small arbour or sum- 
 mer-house sat a female, conning an old ballad; and, as she 
 perused it, she laughed, wept, and sang by turns. Maria 
 stopped to converse with her, and her friend entered the 
 arbour. In it sat a grey-headed and deformed man; he 
 held a volume of Savage in his hand, which had then been 
 but a short time published. 
 
 " I am reading the ' Bastard,' by Savage," said he, as the 
 stranger entered; "he is my favourite author. His fate 
 was mine he describes my feelings. He had an unnatural 
 mother so had I. He was disowned so was I. He slew 
 a man, and so did I; but I my brother." 
 
 The voice, the words, fell upon Maria's ear. She became 
 pale, she glanced towards the arbour, she cast an inquiring 
 look upon the keeper.
 
 22 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Fear not, ma'am," he replied; " he is an innocent crea- 
 ture. He does not rave now; and but that there is an oc- 
 casional wildness in his language, he is as well as you are. 
 Enter and converse with him, ma'am; he is a great speaker, 
 and to- much purpose, too, as visiters tell me." 
 
 She entered the arbour. The cripple's eyes met hers 
 he threw down the book. 
 
 "Maria Maria!" he exclaimed, "this is land! this is 
 kind, indeed ! But do not pity me do not pity me again I 
 Hate me, Maria! you saw me slay my brother!" 
 
 She informed him that his brother was not dead that 
 he had recovered within a few weeks. 
 
 " Not dead ! " replied the cripple. " Thank Heaven ! Ebe- 
 nezer is not a murderer ! But I am well now the fever of 
 my brain is passed. Go, Maria, do this for me it is all I 
 now ask inquire why I am here immured, and by whosa 
 authority. Suffer not my reason to be buried in reason's 
 tomb, and crushed among its wrecks. Your smile, your 
 words of kindness, your tears of gratitude, caused me to 
 dream once, and its remembrance is still as a speck of light 
 amidst the darkness of iny bosom; but these grey hairs have 
 broken the dream." And Ebenezer bent his head upon his 
 breast, and sighed. 
 
 Maria and her friend left the asylum, but in a few weeks 
 they returned, and when they again departed, Ebenezer 
 Baird went with them. He now sought not Maria's love, 
 but he was gratified with her esteem, atid that of her 
 friends. He outlived the persecution of his kindred and 
 the derision of the world; and in the forty-sixth year of 
 his age he died in peace, and bequeathed his property to 
 Maria Bradbury the first of the human race that had 
 looked on him with kindness, or cheered him with a smile.
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 23 
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIK HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. 
 
 THE scat of a branch of the Dumfries-shire Maxwells Kir- 
 connel a property lying not far distant from Dumfries, and 
 surrounded by the little pastoral stream, Kirtle is one of 
 the most beautiful that ever gratified the taste or inspired 
 the pride of a high family. It was not until about the be- 
 ginning of the seventeenth century that it came into the 
 possession of the Maxwells; for, during a long period, it be- 
 longed to the old, though never illustrious, family of the 
 Bells, who, amidst all the turmoil and strife of the March 
 territories, had the good sense to prefer the quiet pleasures 
 of the retreats of their own pure Kirtle, to the tumultuous 
 and cruel scenes which boasted no streamlet but the heart's 
 blood of contending foes. The power of Lord Maxwell, or 
 the threat of Douglas, were equally unavailing to force the 
 old proprietor of Kirconnel though he ranked as a lesser 
 baron, and might command retainers to fight for his plea 
 to sacrifice the pleasures of domestic peace on the altars of 
 Laverna or Bellona: these conjunct goddesses who, hand ir. 
 hand, swayed the destinies of Border men, and regulated 
 the Border rights of mine and thine. He held his fine pro- 
 perty directly of the crown; and, so long as he fulfill sd the 
 conditions of his right, he conceived himself entitled to the 
 enjoyment of what had been fairly got and honourably re- 
 tained. One strong element in Kirconnel's determination 
 to live at home, in the enjoyment of what home may pro- 
 duce to a mind capable of appreciating its sweets, was the 
 fear of interrupting the happiness of his lady one of the 
 family of Irvings in that quarter, who latterly came to pos- 
 ter his property and of one child, a daughter, the Maid of
 
 24 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Kirconnel, concerning whom, as all our readers know, more, 
 has been said and sung by antiquarian minstrel than ever 
 fell to the hapless fame or treasured memory of fair woman. 
 Ah, we need scarcely say, that this young heiress of Kir- 
 connel's name was Helen; for who that has read the touch- 
 ing lines of Pinkerton can ever forget the appellation of 
 One whose fate has drawn more tears than ever did that of 
 the heroine Lady Margaret, in the old ballad of " Douglas' 
 Tragedy?" The disasters of ordinary women, though hal- 
 lowed by the sanctifying power of love, have seldom in this 
 country inspired the harp of the minstrel; so far we are 
 forced to admit the power of beauty, abstracted from the 
 qualities of the mind and heart, that it has been a talisman 
 to bardic genius in every age; yet it is honourable to the 
 character of our nation, that the soul which illumines the 
 " face divine " has called forth strains as melting and trium- 
 phant as ever resulted from the effects of physical beauty. 
 It is, however, when the two qualities have been found com- 
 bined in a favoured daughter of Scotland, that an unhappy 
 fate has called forth a sympathy which has left no harp to 
 sound fitfully in the willow-tree, no heart in our true land 
 untouched, no eye destitute of sympathetic tears. Such 
 has truly been the effect produced by the fortune of Helen 
 of Kirconnel a fortune which came up on the revolving 
 wheel of the mutable goddess, notwithstanding all the ef- 
 forts of her father to make the course of her life happy, and 
 its termination blessed. Abstracted as the thoughts were 
 of the three inhabitants of Kirconnel the lady, the laird, 
 and the daughter from the scenes that were ever changing 
 in the warlike world around them, so much greater was the 
 necessity for cultivating the opportunities of enjoyment 
 that nature and fortune had awarded to them; and so much 
 greater also was the relish for that enjoyment which has 
 over been found in minds and hearts properly constituted 
 and tuned to the harp of goodness, to increase with posses-
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIE HELEN OF EIKCONNEL. 26 
 
 sion as much as the false taste for stimulating avocations 
 cl ys with the easy surfeit. It is not often, even in our 
 virtuous land, and even in these days when the blessings 
 of a high civilisation have inclined mankind to the cultiva- 
 tio of the social affections, that a family is found with its 
 different members so predisposed for the harmony of ex- 
 clu ively domestic joys, that some chord does not occasion- 
 ally give forth a discordant sound when touched by an ex- 
 ter al impulse; but, in the times of which we speak, and in 
 the district where the individuals resided, " the happy fa- 
 mily" was a group that was more often found in the lyrics 
 of the poet or the creations of hope deferred than in the 
 real existences of the troubled and vexed world. 
 
 The house of Kirconnel stood on " fair Kirconnel Lee;" a 
 term implying that the wood, which in those days enconv 
 passed every baronial residence, had been, to a certain ex- 
 tent, cleared away, to allow the daisy-covered lawn to re- 
 joice in the beams of the generally excluded sun. But, at a 
 little distance, the empire of the forest was again resumed, 
 on the condition exacted by nature, of allowing the winding 
 Kirtle to enjoy her grassy bank, covered with the wild rose 
 and the eglantine; and to roll playfully along her pebbly 
 bed, unimpeded by the neighbouring trees, which, as if in 
 amatory dalliance, sent down their straggling lips to kiss her 
 as she went. The wood bower in early times a species of 
 rural retreat in much greater fashion than now-a-days was, 
 in repetition of itself, seen rearing its ornamented walls, round 
 which the native parasite plants were entwined in close em- 
 brace in various parts of the shady retreat. Some of these 
 had been carefully looked to by the lady of Kirconnel her- 
 self, who, anxious to confirm her husband's resolution againsb 
 engaging in the wars of the times, left no energy unemployed 
 to render their residence, not only within the walls of the 
 house, but in the bowers and gardens, as pleasant to the eye 
 as the fruits of her heart and mind were delightful to the
 
 26 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 rational and loving soul of her appreciating and grateful 
 lord. As Sir Owain says: 
 
 " Fair were her erbers with flowers 
 
 Hose and lili divers colours, 
 Primrol and parvink; 
 
 Mint, feverfoy, and eglantine, 
 Colimbin, and mo there were, 
 
 Than ani man mocht think." 
 
 True; the Graces had, as yet, but small influence in Scot- 
 land; but the Genius of Chivalry, a cognate spirit, was busy 
 in effecting a great revolution in the minds of the inhabi- 
 tants; and though there was little to humanise, there was 
 much to elevate and beautify. Traces of this power might 
 already be seen about the bowers and shades of Kirconnel, 
 where some rude figures of knights in various positions 
 one rescuing a damsel from her enemies one in the combat 
 at outrance one striking the palisades of an armed city 
 placed, as they were, in the retreats of peace and domestic 
 happiness by a former warlike possessor of the property, 
 served the purpose of ornamenting the sequestered walks, 
 and supplying to the peaceful and happy inhabitants a con- 
 trast between the pursuits of war and the pleasures of home, 
 and home's blessed enjoyments. 
 
 At a little distance from the mansion or castle for every 
 house, in those days, had a castellated character was, and 
 still is, the burying- ground of Kirconnel; a spot which, from 
 the peculiarity of its situation, as well as from its own 
 mournful associations, imprsssed the mind of the visiter with 
 feelings which startled him, as much from their novelty as 
 from their intensity. There is a small stone there, that 
 would, if deciphered and communicated to our readers, an- 
 ticipate our story, and claim the ready tear before our own 
 sympathies are relieved by our recital. We pass it by at 
 present, to give some idea of the extraordinary spot where 
 it lies. This ground of the dead, or " Death's Mailing," as
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIK HELEN OP KIKCONNEL. 27 
 
 it has sometimes been called, is invested "with all the charms 
 of a sublimed melancholy, which contemplates nature as a 
 whole, and looks to those high purposes of her great author 
 in visiting poor mortals with their heart-chastening woes. 
 At the time of which we speak, this place of the dead was 
 entirely surrounded with high oaks and spreading elms, ex- 
 cept where the silvery Kirtle embraced the hallowed spot, 
 as she rolled slowly along more slowly, it might almost 
 appear, at this spot than elsewhere and murmured a soft 
 threnody in the ears of the guardian spirits, that there tended 
 the clay forms which they once animated. A few very rude 
 stones, whose rudeness was their greatest recommendation 
 to the sentimental mind, told, in the quaint " old Inglis" of 
 that clay, their simple tale. " Here lyethe the race of ye 
 sons of Kirconnelle," might have been seen on a rude free- 
 stone that has long since disappeared. " Terraughtie did 
 choose to lie her," appeared upon another old relic; and 
 some exhibited more simple tokens still pointing out no- 
 thing more than name and surname, yet more eloquent in 
 that brevity than the most "storied urn." "Jon Kirkpa- 
 trycke," "Andrew Welles," "Hem Johnston," "Mary of the 
 Le'," without one word more to say what they were, where 
 they lived, when they visited this scene of sorrow, and when 
 they departed from it, possessed an eloquence in their simple 
 brevity that moved the heart of the visitor with a power 
 now little felt and less appreciated. The swelling green 
 tumuli, with these simple-speaking, grey-headed stones, 
 standing, yet leaning to a side, as if themselves bent by the 
 hands of time, how humbly might they appear, encircled as 
 they were, with the proud monarch of the wood, the prim- 
 eval oak, that had seen the sires and grandsires of the lowly 
 inhabitants of " Death's Mailing " rise and fall, and become 
 dust, as man contemplates the day-fly wing forth in the 
 morning, live out its day, and die. Such was the romantic 
 burying-place of Kirconnel at the time of which we speak;
 
 23 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 and even now, when the oak has fallen before the axe of 
 civilisation, and Fame's trump has sounded even over the 
 tomb, the place has a hallowed and romantic character (the 
 Kirtle is still there) not exhibited by other burying-grounds 
 in Scotland. 
 
 In those retreats, the members of the family of Kirconnel 
 passed the greater part of their time. Helen, though a lover 
 of home, was fond of gratifying a fancy pregnant of beauti- 
 ful images, and a taste for what is lovely in nature, by sit- 
 ting by the banks of the Kirtle, and supplying her mind with 
 the pabulum of the old Scottish romances. " Raf Coilyear 
 and his Cross-bow," and " Gilbert with the White Hand," 
 though soon superseded by the continental romances, were 
 then the legitimate fountains of amusement to the fair maids 
 of Scotland; and those who aimed at sublimer flights, might 
 have had recourse to "Fyn Maccowl," or " Gret Gow Mac- 
 morne;" but there was in none of the works as yet circulated 
 in Scotland, what might gratify the intense yearnings of the 
 female heart for those poetical images which subsequently 
 sprang up with the more mature growth of chivalry. The 
 loves of warriors are not the loves of everyday life, far less 
 the loves of the inspired poet; and Helen, as she read these 
 old legendary romances, might find in them the amusement 
 that afforded a relaxing alternative to her own poetical com- 
 munings with the oldest bard of all Nature; but for the 
 inspiration of love itself she required the talisman man 
 in that high aspect she had prefigured of the noblest of 
 God's creatures, to rouse her heart from nature to the lover's 
 dream. 
 
 As yet the Maid of Kirconnel had not seen any one that 
 realised the idea she had formed, by the banks of the 
 Kirtle, of the individual who could call up in her young 
 bosom those extraordinary emotions which constitute "love's 
 young dream." The secluded mode of life adopted by her 
 parents was unfavourable to a choice of the talismanic ob-
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIE.CONNEL. 29 
 
 jects; and it even appeared to be her father and mother's 
 wish that such choice should be excluded, that her heart 
 might, in the absence of many forms, learn to be pleased 
 with the man whom their love or policy might point out to 
 her adoption. A second cousin of her own, Walter Bell of 
 Blacket House, had a free passport to the hall of Kirconnel, 
 as well as to the bowers that were enshrined in Kirconnel 
 woods. The laird saw in the young man his nearest heir, 
 in the event of his Helen being taken from him by fate; 
 and the lady could detect, as she thought, in Bell's quiet 
 and sombre manner, some assimilation to her own love of 
 retirement and ease, and a consequent disrelish of the war- 
 like and sanguinary customs of the times. Yet it was known 
 that the young laird of Blacket House had been engaged in 
 secret frays between the Johnstones and Crightons; while, 
 for some purpose not generally known, though, from what 
 we have said, not difficult to be surmised, he had fought in 
 disguise, and disclaimed the glory of having hewn off the 
 heads of many Johnstones, whose deaths might have brought 
 him renown, if not wealth. He had fought from a spirit of 
 animosity and a thirst of blood that lay deep buried in his 
 heart, but which, along with its noisome fruits, he had 
 striven to conceal, from the knowledge he possessed of the 
 pacific disposition of his friends the Kirconnels, whose 
 good-will he had a motive to cultivate more powerful than 
 that of wealth or glory. He wished to recommend himself 
 'to the fair Helen, by acquiring the love and esteem of her 
 father and mother; and he doubted not that, by his own 
 personal accomplishments neither few nor unimportant 
 aided by the advice or power of parental love and authority, 
 he would succeed in changing in her the old habitual feel- 
 ings of ordinary friendship into the higher and purer senti- 
 ments of affection. 
 
 And sure it was that no one who ever aimed to acquira 
 a " ladye's love," made his attempt with more advantages
 
 30 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 on his side than Walter Bell of Blacket House. The gay 
 lover in the old romance, who cried that, with the advan- 
 tage of making love in a wood, and by the side of a silver 
 stream, he would gain the heart of the fairest woman of 
 Christendom, though his face were as black as the coal 
 slave's, and his lineage no better than the knave-child's, 
 spoke more of human nature than he himself perhaps 
 knew. But he spoke of women in the aggregate; and it 
 is not unlikely that such a woman as fair Helen of Kir- 
 connel had never come under the trial of his skill. The 
 truth of the statement fell to be tested by one who, besides 
 the advantages stated by the gay knight, could boast the 
 consent of a father, old friendship, and a face and a lineage 
 against which no exception could be taken by the ad- 
 mirers of graces and genealogy. Bell was aware of the ad- 
 vantages he possessed; but he could calculate the strength 
 of these better than he could fathom the mysteries of wo- 
 man's heart. Although the greater part of his time was 
 passed at Kirconnel, where he took every opportunity of 
 threading the mazes of the oak woods, or sitting by the side of 
 the Kirtle, with the object of his affections, it is doubtful if 
 he ever ascertained, by the passing indications she exhibited, 
 that her thoughts and feelings were pitched much beyond 
 the grade of those which nature had awarded to himself. 
 She saw and felt beauties in the scenery of Kirconnel, 
 which to her lover were but as the "sear leaf." Every 
 object in nature from the planet to the plant, from the 
 shining levin of heaven to the phosphoric beam on the mar- 
 gin of the Kirtle had some intelligence for her inquiring 
 eye. Every power in operation around her from the ge- 
 neral sympathy of nature's highest elements, to the loves 
 of the little forest birds that sung their love-song in her 
 bower had some charm to elevate her thoughts and su- 
 blime her sentiments. She, therefore, who could search for 
 intelligence where others saw nothing but inert matter, or,
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEI* 31 
 
 at least, the uninteresting indications of everyday nature, 
 might probably have been an unfortunate object on whom 
 our said romantic knight might try the effect of his extra- 
 neous charms of wood and water. Nor was she at all fitted 
 for being acted upon by the love intrigues of her, cousin of 
 Blacket House, who, coming far short of a knowledge of 
 the elevated sentiments by which she was inspired, could 
 neither yield her that sympathy which she required as a 
 sine qua non of affection, nor stand the investigation of the 
 shrewd wisdom or the high philosophy of the heart of an 
 elevated woman. While he simply sued and used the or- 
 dinary words of love, she analysed, and found that, where 
 she never could bo understood, she never could dispose of 
 her affections. 
 
 The mind of Helen had long been made up on the ques- 
 tion of her cousin's suit. It had begun early; and the in- 
 numerable walks he had enjoyed with her along the banks 
 of the Kirtle had afforded him a thousand opportunities of 
 declaring his feelings. By the natural tact of women, she 
 had always contrived to evade the question, and contented 
 herself, even in the midst of extravagant declarations, with 
 negative indications of her inability to return his passion. 
 These he understood not; and, unfortunately, he acted upon 
 the principle that has driven many a fond lover to despair 
 that the mistress who appears to listen without displeasure 
 is presumed to give a tacit consent. They know little of 
 the heart of woman who trust their happiness or their lives 
 to the frail bark of such a fond and dangerous delusion. A 
 woman will seldom put an end to the adulation that sup- 
 ports her pride; but the Maid of Kirconnel, who had no 
 pride to gratify, acted as many a single-hearted female has 
 done and will do, who receives without a frown that her 
 nature detests, but without a satisfaction that her honesty 
 will not allow her to assume, the fond speeches of an old 
 friend, couched in terms of an admiration which is only her
 
 32 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 due. The native sensibility of her soul shrank at the 
 thought of first construing harshly her relative's profes- 
 sions of affection, and then telling him that he was not 
 the individual who was qualified to win her heart. Yet, 
 in justice to her, it requires to be stated, that she often 
 communed with herself, in her solitary walks, on the ne- 
 cessity of checking her cousin's fond and unfortunate de- 
 lusion, lest evil might come out of gentleness so nearly 
 allied to good. 
 
 This unfortunate connection between Blacket House and 
 his fair cousin, fated as it was to continue, assumed daily 
 a more critical aspect. The young man, overwhelmed by 
 a passion that was daily and hourly fed by the contem- 
 plation of a beauty and qualities seldom before witnessed 
 in a Scottish maiden, was not only intoxicated by the 
 violence of his love, but satisfied that his cousin, in return 
 loved him with an affection only more chastely expressed, 
 though, of course, not less powerful than his own. Her 
 parents, too, who had lent a fond and willing ear to his 
 statements of their daughter's love for him, had made up 
 their minds upon a point which presented all the appear- 
 ances of being sealed and settled by her who had the great- 
 est interest in its truth. She was always to be found by 
 him in her solitary walks among Kirconnel woods. Their 
 meetings were favoured by their parents; their walks were- 
 uninterrupted; the current of his passion flowed without 
 check, and his expressions only varied in becoming more 
 animated. The absence of a harsh denial filled the mea- 
 sure of a deluding, blending hope; and while the courses of 
 their two minds were in directions entirely opposite hia 
 along the rose-strewed valley of a requited affection; hers 
 in a channel that led to objects too brilliant for his dull eye 
 to scan, and too sublime for his unfledged fancy to reach 
 he conceived that a mutual sympathy of congenial feeling 
 animated both their hearts.
 
 THE LEGEND OP FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. 33 
 
 It was at this extraordinary state of the domestic affairs 
 of Kirconnel that an extraneous cause gave a new current 
 to the feelings of the young maiden, without having the 
 effect of changing that of her lover, or of opening the eyes 
 of her father and mother to the true fact, that she could 
 not love the man they intended as her husband. A gallant, 
 high-spirited youth, one of the Flemings of Kirkpatriok, 
 had followed a doe up to within a very short space of Kii- 
 connel House. The timid creature had taken to the water, 
 and, springing on the opposite bank, fled past a bower in 
 which Helen was at the time sitting reading "Sir Tristam," 
 then in the hands of every young lady in Scotland and 
 England. She started as the creature shot past her, and, 
 patting her head timidly forward, to get a better view of 
 the fleet inhabitant of the forest, saw before her, with cap 
 in hand, bowing, in knightly guise, Adam Fleming of Kirk- 
 patrick. Neither of the two had before seen the other; but 
 the fame of the one's noble mien, high mind, and martial 
 virtues, and of the other's incomparable beauty and eleva- 
 tion of sentiment, had reached reciprocally their willing 
 ears. 
 
 "That a Fleming of Kirkpatrick," said the youth, still 
 bowing humbly, and smiling, " should have had the bold- 
 ness to interpose the image of his worthless person between 
 the fancy and the heaven of the meditations of fair Helen 
 of Kirconnel, doth, by my sword, require an apology. Shall 
 I be still bolder in asking a pardon?" 
 
 The effect produced on Helen's mind by the noble figure 
 of the youth, and the romantic and playful turn he had 
 given to his intrusion, was quick and heartfelt. It was, 
 besides, simultaneous with the memory of his spread fame; 
 and in an instant her face was in a glow of mixed shame 
 and confusion, the causes of which, perhaps, lay deeper 
 than the influence of a mere feeling of surprise or interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 VOL. IX. B
 
 34 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 "You have my full forgiveness, sir," she replied, while 
 her face glowed deeper, in spite of her efforts to appear un- 
 affected. 
 
 Her soft musical voice fell on the ear of the youth; but 
 his keen, dark eye was busy with the examination of 
 charms with which his ear had been long familiar. The 
 blush of a woman is a man's triumph; whatever may be 
 its secret cause, the man will construe it favourably to 
 himself, in the face of a denial of his power; and so far at 
 least he has the right, that nature herself evidences in his 
 favour, by an acknowledgment that he has touched the 
 fountains of the heart. Fleming was not different from 
 other men; and, though he might have been wrong in his 
 construction of the secret moving impulse which called up 
 the mantling adornment of beauty that was almost beyond 
 the power of increase, he felt the full influence of the effect 
 he thought he had produced, and, conceiving himself favour- 
 ably received, laid in his heart the germs of an affection 
 that was to govern his destiny. The forms of breeding, 
 more punctilious in those days of chivalry than even now, 
 forbade farther communication at that time, and, bowing 
 gracefully as he drank up the rays of her blushing beauty, 
 he bounded away after his dogs, that had kept their course 
 in pursuit of the flying doe. 
 
 This was the first time that ever Helen had seen a 
 stranger huntsman cross Kirconnel Lee in pursuit of his 
 game; but it was soon to appear that roes and does, when 
 pursued by the gallant Fleming, seemed to think that in 
 the recesses of Kirconnel they might find that safety which 
 was denied them in other coverts; at least it became cer- 
 tain that more of that kind of game fled before the hunter 
 over Kirconnel Lee, after the meeting we have described, 
 than ever were seen before by man or maiden. Meanwhile 
 the image of the noble youth, with his clear, intelligent 
 eye, his rising and expanded forehead, from which hia
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIE HELEN OF KIKCONNEL. 35 
 
 black hair was shaded to a side, and mixed with the long 
 flowing locks that reached down to his shoulders; his intel- 
 lectual expression of countenance, where beauty sat en- 
 shrined among the virtues, his breeding, his modesty, his 
 voice and general bearing were all busy with the fancy of 
 the Maid of KirconneL Nature's talisman had been ap- 
 plied, and the charm had wrought in its highest and most 
 mysterious power. Nor less had been the effect of that 
 first meeting on the mind of the youthful heir of Kirk- 
 patrick. They loved; and the does which afterwards 
 brushed over Kirconnel Lee were only the scouts of the 
 hunting lover, who, while he could not help the choice of 
 the flying wilding in taking that direction, could not, of a 
 consequence, avoid a repeated intrusion on the wood-bower 
 privacy of her who longed to see him with a heart that 
 palpitated at his coming as strongly as did that of the 
 flying deer. The rules of breeding direct all their force 
 against a first interview; against a second, though brought 
 about in the same way as the first, they have no efficacy; 
 and love, which defies the whole code, soon reconciled dif- 
 ferences which he despised. A few meetings revealed to 
 each other the fact which, somehow or other, is disco- 
 vered by nobody but lovers that one person has been in- 
 tended from the beginning of the world to be formed for 
 another. The heir of Kirkpatrick and the Maid of Kir- 
 connel exhibited to each other such a similarity of thought, 
 feeling, and sentiment, that love seemed to have nothing 
 more to do than to tie those threads which nature had not 
 only spun, but hung forth with a predisposed reciprocity of 
 communication. The discovery that their thoughts had 
 taken the same range, and reached an equal altitude of ele- 
 vation, carried with it that pleasant surprise that is always 
 favourable to the progress of the tender passion; and the 
 delight of a new-born sympathy in sentiments that had long 
 gratified only the heart in which they were conceived, but
 
 86 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 which now were seen glowing in the eyes of another, was 
 only another form of that passion itself. 
 
 Though Helen had seen many indications that might 
 have satisfied her (if her mind had been directed to the 
 subject) that her father and mother were bent upon a 
 match between her cousin of Blacket House and her, she 
 had never, either from a want of courage or steady serious 
 thought on the subject, put it to herself what was her pre- 
 cise predicament or condition, on the supposition of such 
 circumstance being in itself true and irremediable. She 
 had hitherto had no great need for secresy, because she 
 did not love another; and her father, mother, and lover, 
 having taken it for granted that she was favourable to her 
 cousin's suit, nothing of a definite nature had ever tran- 
 spired to call for a demonstration on her part, as an alter- 
 native of dishonesty and double-dealing. Her situation 
 was now changed. She now loved, and loved ardently, 
 another; and the necessity she felt of meeting the heir of 
 Kirkpatrick in secret, brought out in full relief her inmost 
 sense of what were the views and purposes of her father 
 and mother, and all the responsibility of her negative con- 
 duct, as regarded the suit of him she could never love. But, 
 strange as it may seem, if she felt a difficulty in correcting 
 her cousin and disobeying her parents before the accession 
 of her love, she felt that difficulty rise to an impossibility 
 after that important event of her life. She trembled at the 
 thought of her love being crossed: one word of her rejec- 
 tion of the suit of her cousin would reach the ears of her 
 parents; dissension would be thrown into the temple of 
 peace; her love would be discovered; her lover, a man 
 famous in arms, and an aider of the Johnstones, the oppo- 
 nents of Blacket House, traced, rejected, and banished; 
 and her heart finally torn and broken by the antagonist 
 powers of love and duty. She felt her own weakness, and 
 trembled at it, without coming te a resolution to make &
 
 THE LEGEND OP FAIK HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. 37 
 
 disclosure; while her overwhelming love carried her, on the 
 moonlight nights, over Kirconnel Lee, to meet her faithful 
 Heir of Kirkpatrick in the romantic burying-ground already 
 described. This extraordinary place was that fixed upon 
 by the lovers for their night meetings; for in any other 
 part of the domains of Kirconnel they could not have 
 escaped the eye of Blacket House; who, though he had no 
 suspicion of a rival, was so often in search of the object of 
 his engrossing passion, that she seldom went out without 
 being observed by the ever- waking and vigilant surveillance 
 of love. 
 
 Many times already had Helen waited till her uncon- 
 scious parents retired to the rest of the aged, and the 
 moon threw her sheet of silver over Kirconnel Lee, and, 
 wrapped up in a night-cloak, slipped out at the wicker- 
 gate of the west enclosure, to seek, under the shades of 
 the oaks, Death's Mailing, the appointed trysting-place 
 of the ardent lovers. Again she was to see her beloved 
 Heir of Kirkpatrick, and at last she had resolved to 
 break to him the painful position in which she was placed 
 by the still existing belief of her parents and Blacket House, 
 that she was to be his wedded wife. On this occasion, she 
 sat wistfully looking out at her chamber window. Her 
 father and mother had retired to their couch. Everything 
 was quiet, the wind stilled, and the mighty oaks whispered 
 not the faintest sigh to disturb the sensitive ear of night. 
 The moon was already up, and she was on the eve of wrap- 
 ping her cloak round her, and creeping forth into the forest 
 shade, when she observed the long shadow of a man extend- 
 ing many yards upon the shining grass of the green lee. The 
 figure of the individual she could not see; for a projection 
 of the building, sufficient to conceal him, but not to prevent 
 his shadow from being revealed, interrupted her vision. She 
 hesitated and trembled. If the shadow had moved and 
 disappeared, she could have accounted for it, by supposing
 
 88 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 that some of the domestics had not yet retired to bed; but 
 why should a mau stand alone and stationary at that hour, 
 in that place, in that position? Her fears ran all upon 
 Blacket House, who was never happy but when in her pre- 
 sence or near her person; and who had been, on a former 
 occasion, reported by the servants to have lain and slept 
 under her window for an entire night, and never left his po- 
 sition till the morning sun exposed the doting lover to the 
 wondering eyes of the domestics, who had never yet felt a 
 love that kept them awake for more than a dreamy hour at 
 cockcrow. As she gazed and hesitated, her hour was passing, 
 and her lover would be among the grave-stones, waiting for 
 her. Her anxiety grew intense; she feared to go, but 
 shook at the thoughts of disappointing him; never dream- 
 ing (so whispered love) of herself. The figure still stood as 
 stationary as a grave-stone, while her soul was agitated 
 like the restless spirit that hovers over it, sighing for the 
 hour of departure to the regions of ether. She could bear 
 no longer; the projection which concealed him would con- 
 ceal her; she plied the furtive steps of love; and crossing, 
 like a fairy on the moonlit green knowe, the rising lawn, 
 was forth among the towering oaks in as little time as the 
 shadow of a passing cloud would have taken to trail its 
 dingy traces over the shining lee. 
 
 In a short time she arrived at the churchyard, and saw, 
 through the interstices of the surrounding trees, the Heir of 
 Kirkpatrick sitting on a green tumulus, the grave of one who 
 had perhaps loved as they now loved, waiting for her who- 
 was beyond the trysting-hour. In a moment longer she was 
 in his arms, and the stillness of the dead was invaded by the 
 stifled sighs, the burning whispers, the rustling pressure of 
 ardent, impatient lovers. The rising graves, and the mossy 
 tomb-stones, and the white scattered bones that had escaped 
 the sexton's eye, and glittered in the moonbeams, were 
 equally neglected and overlooked; and no fear of fairy, ghost,
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 39 
 
 or gnome, or gowl, entered where Love left no room but for 
 Ms own engrossing sacrifices. The simple monument of 
 love of " Mary of the Le'," that rose by their side, had often 
 brought the tears to Helen's eyes; but Mary of the Lee was 
 now forgotten. " There is a time and a place for all things" 
 but love, whose rule is general over the flowery lee and the 
 green grave, the mid-day hour and the dreary key-stone of 
 night's black arch. 
 
 "What kept ye, sweet Helen, love?" whispered Kirkpa- 
 trick in her ear, as she lay entranced in love's dream on his 
 bosom. 
 
 " By that question, good Adam," answered she, according 
 to the mode of familiar address of her day, " there hangs a 
 secret that oppresses your Helen, and drinks up all the joys 
 of our affection." 
 
 " Speak it forth, my gentle Helen," said Fleming. " What 
 is it? The secresy of our meeting? I have been meditat- 
 ing a resolution to address your father, and this will confirm 
 me. He can have no objections to my suit, save that I am 
 a friend of the Johnstones, and an open warrior; while your 
 cousin, whom you rejected before you saw me, is a concealed 
 mosstrooper, and a secret manslayer." 
 
 " There, there," muttered Helen, with trembling emotion 
 "there, Adam, you have hit the bleeding part of my 
 heart. I did not say to you that I had rejected Blacket 
 House before I saw you; but you were entitled to make that 
 supposition, because I told you that I never received his love; 
 but, alas ! Adam, there is a distinction there; and, small as 
 it may seem, its effects may be great upon the fortunes and 
 happiness of your Helen. It is true I have never received 
 his love; but it is equally true that his love, having over- 
 grown the thought of a possibility of rejection, has over- 
 looked my negative indications, and put down my silence for 
 consent. Yes, Adam, yes even now Blacket House thinks 
 I love him; and } oh ! the full responsibility of my apathy rises
 
 40 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 before me like a threatening giant j my father and my mother 
 have, I fear, taken for granted that I am to become the 
 wedded wife of my cousin." 
 
 " Helen, this does indeed surprise me," replied Kirkpa- 
 trick, thoughtfully and sorrowfully. " I thought I had a suf- 
 ficient objection to overcome on the part of your father, when 
 I had to conquer the prejudices of clanship, and soothe his 
 fears of my ardent spirit for the foray. But this changes 
 all, and my difficulties are increased from the height of Kir- 
 conuel Lee to the towering CriffeL" And he sat silent for a 
 time, and mused thoughtfully. " But why, my love," he 
 continued, " have you allowed this dangerous delusion to rest 
 so long undisturbed, till it has become a conviction that 
 may only be removed with danger to us all?" 
 
 "Ask me not, Adam," replied she, with a full heart, 
 " what I cannot explain. While the tongue of Blacket 
 House's friendship was changing to love, I, whose thoughts 
 were otherwise directed, perceived not the change; and 
 when the truth appeared to me, my love for my father and 
 mother, against the placid stream of whose life I have ever 
 trembled to throw the smallest pebble of a daughter's dis- 
 obedience, prevented me, day by day, from making the 
 avowal that I could not love their choice. The difficulty in- 
 creased with the hour; and, ah ! my love for you crowned it 
 at last with impossibility." 
 
 "That should rather have removed the difficulty," an- 
 swered he. " Explain, sweet Helen, You are dealing in 
 shadowy parables." 
 
 "Think you so, Adam?" said she, sighing. "Ah, then, 
 is man's love different from woman's ? The one can look 
 an obstacle in the face; the other turns from it with terror, 
 and fices. See you not that, by telling my parents I could 
 not love my cousin, I would have been conjuring up a 
 bad angel to cross, with his black wing, the secret but 
 sweet path of our affection. The very possibility of being
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIE HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. 41 
 
 separated from you too dear, Adam, as you are to this 
 beating heart made me tremble at the articulation of that 
 charmed word which contains all my happiness on earth. 
 You have stolen my heart from my father and mother, my 
 sweet woods and bowers, my bright moon and Kirtle; and 
 think you what it would be for me to lose him in whom all 
 is centred!" 
 
 "Ah! Helen, Helen, this is unlike the majesty of that 
 mind that roved the blue fields of the heavens, and searched 
 the hidden springs of the love that reigns through all created 
 things. That such thoughts should be allied to that weak- 
 ness which increases inevitable danger by flying from it, I 
 could not have supposed to be exemplified by my Maid of 
 Kirconnel. Yet is that trembling fear not a greater proof 
 of my Helen's love than an outspoken rejection of twenty 
 rival suitors ? It is I feel it i&; and who will chide a fault 
 of earth that hangs by a virtue of heaven? Dear, devoted, 
 cherished object of my first passion, what has the simple 
 heir of Kirkpatrick to give in exchange for the devotion of 
 such a being?" 
 
 And the impassioned youth pressed her closer and closer 
 to his breast, while he spread over her shoulders the falling 
 cloak, to shield her from the autumn dews. 
 
 They sat for some time silent the difficulty of their situa- 
 tion being for a brief period forgotten and lost in the tumult 
 of the rising feelings of a strong mutual passion. 
 
 " But this must not be allowed to continue," again said 
 Kirkpatrick "It is necessary, Helen, that you do this 
 duty to yourself, to your cousin, your parents, and to me. 
 Call up the necessary fortitude, my love. Tell your mother 
 that you cannot love Blacket House. I know the pain it 
 will produce tc you and to them; but, alas ! there are many 
 positions in this world where we can only get to the object 
 of our desires through painful means. Pain is, indeed, the 
 price of most of our pleasures; and, when we do not pay
 
 42 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 that price, we become bankrupt in our best feelings, and 
 die wretched. When the path is free, I shall come forward 
 and claim my Helen in the face of the world. Will you, 
 will you, love?" 
 
 And he bent his head, and repeated the question in soft 
 tones beneath the cloak that covered her head; while she, 
 in muffled accents, replied 
 
 "I will, I will, Adam, though I should [die with the last 
 word of the declaration.' 
 
 A heavy groan at this moment fell upon their ear. Adam 
 started hastily up; and Helen, roused from her love's dream, 
 stood petrified with fear. They looked around them in 
 every direction; but the proximity of the place where they 
 had been sitting to the edge of the wood, rendered it easy 
 for an intruder to overhear their discourse, and to escape 
 among the trees in an instant. Helen's fears again fell on 
 Blacket House, and she whispered to Adam what she had 
 observed previous to her leaving the house. He conceived 
 them to be well founded; and, as the thought of the man 
 who could kill his enemies in disguise, and deny the deed, 
 flashed upon his mind, he felt for his sword, and then smiled 
 at the precipitude of his defensive precaution. It was ne- 
 cessary, however, that Helen should now hurry home; and, 
 surmounting the turf -dyke of the burying-ground, they, with 
 rapid steps, made for Kirconnel House, at a little distance 
 from which they parted, with a close embrace. Helen stood 
 for a moment, and looked after her lover; then, wrapping 
 her cloak about her head, she moved quickly round the 
 edge of the enclosed lawn, and was on the eve of running 
 forward to the wicket, when Blacket House stood before 
 her. He looked for a moment sternly at her, spoke not a 
 word, and then dashed away into the wood. Terrified still 
 more, Helen hurried away, and got into the house and her 
 own chamber before the full extent of her danger opened, 
 with all its probable consequences, upon her mind. Hav-
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 43 
 
 ing undressed herself, she retired to her couch, and medi- 
 tated on the extraordinary position in which she was now 
 placed. She had now been discovered by her cousin, who, 
 no doubt, knew well that she had that night had a se- 
 cret meeting with Kirkpatrick a partisan of his antago- 
 nists, the Johnstones. The discovery of a rival had come 
 on him with the discovery of a delusion under which he 
 had sighed, and dreamed, and hoped for years. It was pro- 
 bable, nay, certain, then, that the communication she in- 
 tended to make to her father and mother, that she could 
 not love Blacket House, would be received along with the 
 elucidating commentary, that the lover now despised had 
 discovered her love intercourse with the heir of Kirkpatrick. 
 She would, therefore, get no credit for her statement that 
 she never loved her cousin; but would be set down as a 
 breaker of pledges, and one who traitorously amused herself 
 with the broken hopes of her unfortunate lovers. Whether 
 she made the communication or not, it would be made by 
 Blacket House, whose fear of losing the object of his affec- 
 tions, or his revenge whichever of the two moved him 
 would force him to the immediate disclosure. The serenity 
 of the domestic peace and happiness of Kirconnel House- 
 would be clouded for the first time, and that by the dis- 
 obedience of one who had heretofore been held to contribute, 
 in no small degree, to that which she was to be the means 
 of destroying, perhaps for ever. The contrast between the 
 confidence, the hope, and the affection with which she had 
 been, by her parents, contemplated, and fondly cherished, 
 during all the bygone part of her life, and the new-discovered 
 treachery into which her secret love for a stranger would be 
 construed, was a thought she could scarcely bear. These 
 and a thousand other things 1 passed through her thoughts 
 with a rapidity which did not lessen the burning pain of 
 their impress upon her mind; and the repetition of a thou- 
 sand reflections, fears, and hopes, produced in the end a
 
 44 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 confusion that terrified sleep from her pillow, and consigned 
 her to the powers of anguish for the remainder of the night 
 and morning. 
 
 'She rose with a burning cheek and a high-fluttering pulse, 
 produced by the fever of mind under which she still la- 
 boured. She opened the casement to let in the cool breeze 
 of morning to brace her nerves, and enable her to stand an 
 interview with her father and mother, who might already 
 (for Blacket House was at Kirconnel at all hours) be in 
 possession of the secret of what they conceived to be their 
 once-loved Helen's disobedience and treachery. Her own 
 communication, which she had pledged herself to Kirk- 
 patrick to make, was now invested with treble terrors; and 
 though she knew that her safety and happiness depended 
 upon an open declaration, she felt herself totally unable to 
 make it. Trembling and irresolute, she approached the 
 parlour where her father and mother, along with herself, 
 were in the habit of taking their morning meal. They were 
 there; and there was another there it was her cousin. 
 He looked at her as she entered, with a calm, but mysteri- 
 ous eye, which fluttered her nerves again, and forced her to 
 stand for a moment in the middle of the apartment, irreso- 
 lute whether to go forward or retreat. She fearfully threw 
 her eye over the faces of her parents. There was no change 
 there; the ordinary placidity of their wonted manner, and 
 the kindly love-greeting borne in their mellow voices, star- 
 tled her so strong had been her conviction that all was dis- 
 closed. Her parents were destitute of guile; and an instant's 
 thought satisfied her that they were still in their ignorance 
 of the secret. But Blacket House contimied his dark gaze 
 in silence; and even this a decided alteration in his man- 
 ner was unnoticed by the unsuspecting couple, who threw 
 their fond eyes on their loving daughter as their only re- 
 maining pride and solace. What meant this 1 The new turn 
 taken by the stream of her difficulty and danger surprised
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 45 
 
 and confused her; but, calming by the influence of her pa- 
 rents' kindness, she sat down and went through the forms 
 of the morning meal, without exhibiting a discomposure that 
 might attract the notice of these loving beings, who searched 
 her face only for the indications of health and the beams of 
 her pleasure. Her comparative composure enabled her to 
 collect her ideas; and she thought she now discovered a 
 reason for this seeming forbearance or discretion of Blacket 
 House a man little formed for these, or any other virtues: 
 he intended to sell his knowledge at the price of a hand that 
 never could be his, but by this or some other means of com- 
 pulsion. The moment this thought and, under all the cir- 
 cumstances, it was a reasonable one entered her mind, she 
 trembled at the power of the dark-eyed, silent being who 
 sat there, and gazed upon her in revengeful triumph. For 
 relief, she turned her eyes to her parents; yet she saw there 
 the smile that approved his suit, and the confidence that 
 would believe his declaration. Her own Kirkpatrick was 
 absent; and she dared not meet him to receive the assist- 
 ance of his advice, to enable her to support herself under her 
 trial, or devise a plan suited to the changed circumstances 
 for her relief. She hurried over her meal, and hastened 
 again to her apartment, to confirm herself in the opinion she 
 had formed of Blacket House's intentions. Every thought 
 tended to add to her conviction that she was correct, .and 
 told her that he never would succeed in his scheme. He 
 would now, for certain, endeavour to see her alone, and lay 
 before her the danger into which she had plunged herself, 
 and the bargain by which she would be relieved from it. But 
 she would defeat him; she would renounce her walks in the 
 woods, desert, for a time, her bowers, and bid adieu to her 
 silver Kirtle. She would keep her apartment under a pre- 
 tence of slight indisposition far from an untruth and, in 
 the meantime, try to devise some mode of relief from her 
 painful situation.
 
 46 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 But the solicitude of her parents interfered, in some de- 
 gree, with these plans. They discovered that she was not 
 so ill as to be unable to seek what might do her service her 
 former walks and amusements around Kirconnel Lee; and 
 thus was she obliged to yield to kindness; yet she contrived 
 to have her parents near her, so as to deprive Blacket 
 House of an opportunity of communicating to her his im- 
 puted plan of enforcing his suit. As yet, his silence had 
 been continued: her parents were still in ignorance; and 
 it was only (so she argued) because he had not hitherto 
 found her alone, that his dreaded communication had 
 not as yet been made. On the occasion of her first walk, 
 however, she, by some untoward chance, was left in one of 
 the arbours alone, and the opportunity (the first that had 
 occurred) was seized by him Blacket House was again be- 
 fore her, and all her fears were in a moment roused. Their 
 yes met with an intelligence they had never before possessed. 
 Eveiy passing thought seemed to be mutually read, while a 
 few words of ordinary import seemed to be only as a prepa- 
 ration to his expected statement. Helen did not dare to 
 leave him; she feared to rouse his anger, and yet she wanted 
 courage to reply with ordinary pertinence to his remarks. 
 His eye was constantly fixed on her, and the few words he 
 uttered came with difficulty and pain; yet was there not the 
 slightest allusion to the secret he undoubtedly held locked up 
 in his breast. Was he not to bring forward his threat of expos- 
 ing her, as a wrenching instrument, to force from her a consent 
 that he was satisfied would never be given voluntarily ? There 
 was no indication of any such issue. What could be the true 
 meaning of this dark-minded man's conduct? Again he had 
 disappointed her fearful anticipations. He had not told her 
 parents; he was not to tell herself. What then was he to 
 do ? She could not answer her self-put question; and her 
 surprise when he parted from her, after a short conversation, 
 conducted with difficulty, with his secret unapproached, and
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. 47 
 
 the mysterious stare of his illegible eye, was not less than 
 her terror of the anticipated issue when she first encountered 
 him. 
 
 This new extraordinary element in the subject of her medi- 
 tations and fears disarranged all her ideas, and sent her 
 thoughts in new channels for a discovery of what might be 
 the secret plans of her cousin. She sighed for an interview 
 with her lover; but that, she was satisfied, would be at- 
 tended with great danger; and thus reduced to her own re- 
 sources, she passed the night following her meeting with 
 Blacket House in still increasing pain and difficulty. In the 
 morning she was visited in her own chamber by her mother, 
 who appeared, from the serious aspect of her countenance, 
 to have something of great importance to communicate. 
 
 "Helen," began the good matron, "though your father 
 and I have seldom broached the subject of love and mam- 
 age in your presence, we have, with heartfelt satisfaction, 
 observed and understood that the man who alone has our 
 consent to win your virgin heart is your own choice. Your 
 wooing has lasted so long, that the very birds in the woods 
 are familiar with your persons and converse; and surely this 
 is not to last always. You are twenty years old, my dear 
 Helen, at the next Beltane, the first of May; and I know 
 that it is Blacket House's wish that your happiness may be 
 crowned by a union within as short a period as we will agree 
 to fix. I have broken the matter to you, my love; and as I 
 am well acquainted with the fluttering of Love's wings when 
 Hymen enters the bower, I will not urge you to fix a day at 
 present, but leave you to the pleasant meditations my com- 
 munication cannot but call forth. I shall send your break- 
 fast to your bedroom this morning, my love; but I hope we 
 may walk in the afternoon. Say nothing, Helei* Adieu ! 
 adieu ! " 
 
 And the mother left the room rapidly, as if to avoid no- 
 ticing the blushes of the supposed happy damsel Helen
 
 48 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 heard the words uttered, as one may be supposed to feel 
 the syllables of a condemnation falling upon the heart. It 
 was well that her mother departed so rapidly, for the agita- 
 tion the kind parent attributed to joy, was but the prelude 
 to a faint, which retained her cold and struggling in its re- 
 lentless arms for a considerable period. The first indications 
 of consciousness were, if possible, more terrible than the 
 last thoughts that frightened it away. For a long period 
 she sat upon the couch where she had heard the dreadful 
 intelligence, and, passing her hand over her brow, tried to- 
 collect her energies, so as to be able to contemplate the 
 full extent of her evil. She thought she could now see some 
 connection between the announcement made by her mother 
 and the extraordinary and mysterious conduct of Blacket 
 House, though she was satisfied that neither of her parents 
 possessed any knowledge of her intercourse with Kirk- 
 patrick. The scheme of the early marriage might originate 
 in the fears of her cousin, while his secresy was only still 
 maintained till he found that she would not yield to her 
 parents' authority; when would be the time for using his 
 threat of disclosure to Helen, to compel her consent. All 
 this reasoning seemed founded in existing circumstances 
 and appearances; but so confused were her thoughts, and 
 so painful every effort of her mind to acquire clearer views, 
 that she felt inclined to renounce reasoning on a subject 
 that seemed at every turn to defeat all her efforts to come 
 to the real truth. Her misery was at least certain; for 
 now, while the absolute necessity of a disclosure of her 
 secret love became more peremptory and inevitable, the 
 circumstances under which it would be made were such as 
 would add to the unhappiness of her parents, and to the 
 apparent deceit and treachery of her own nature, which 
 was, notwithstanding, incapable of guile. 
 
 Meanwhile, the effects of so much mental anguish, act- 
 ing upon a tender frame, became soon apparent in her pale
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIK HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 49 
 
 countenance and swollen eyes. She would not leave her 
 apartment; and when her mother again visited her, she 
 saw a change on her daughter very different from that 
 which accompanies the character of a bride in prospective. 
 The circumstance surprised the old lady; but still so satis- 
 fied was she that there could exist no objection to a lover 
 whom she had (as was thought) cherished for years, that it 
 never occurred to her that the change in her daughter was 
 attributable to the announcement she had made to her; 
 while Helen herself, oppressed with the secret which she 
 struggled (as yet in vain) to divulge, shunned a subject 
 which she found herself unable to treat in such a way as 
 would insure to her relief from her sorrow. Every effort 
 was made to get her out into the woods, where her former 
 scenes might enliven her mind, and bring back her wonted 
 spirits, which, chiming the musical bells of youth's happy 
 glee, used to charm the age-stricken hearts of her parents. 
 But these scenes had lost their power over her. The se- 
 crets Blacket House had to divulge still lay like an unholy 
 spirit upon her heart, killed its energies, and rendered her 
 miserable. She expected the additional sorro\v of his society 
 in these forced walks, and her grief was mixed with sur- 
 prise at his absence. He was often at the house, but he 
 avoided her. She even saw him turn into a by-path, to 
 get out of the way in which she walked a circumstance as 
 inexplicable as any of the prior difficulties with which the 
 whole affair was beset on every side. She continued her 
 meditations, called up repeated energies to nerve her for 
 her disclosure, and, with many a sigh, felt them die away, 
 and the tongue cleave to her mouth, as the unavailing effort 
 shook her frame. 
 
 She had been in the habit of meeting Kirkpatrick at 
 regular intervals; but two of the stated periods had passed 
 without an interview. The third was approaching; and 
 she trembled as the necessity of throwing herself on his 
 
 B2
 
 50 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 bosom, and seeking counsel in her difficulty, appealed to 
 her in such a form as to shake her resolution not to en- 
 counter another night-meeting with her cousin. On the 
 morning of that evening when she must repair to the bury- 
 ing-ground, or lose the chance of meeting Kirkpatrick for a 
 considerable time, it was announced to her parents, in her 
 presence, at the table of the morning meal, that Blacket 
 House had, on the previous day, gone on a visit to a rela- 
 tion in a very distant part of the country, and that he would 
 not return for eight days. She heard it, and her eyes were 
 involuntarily turned up to heaven, in thanksgiving for the 
 opportunity she now enjoyed of sobbing out her sorrows on 
 the bosom of her Kirkpatrick, and getting good counsel in 
 her distress. She said nothing when the announcement 
 was made, and heard, without heeding, the remarks of her 
 parents. Her thoughts were in Death's Mailing, and the 
 pallid hue of her cheek gave place for a moment to the 
 flush that followed the fancied touch of his lips, and the 
 pressure that brought her nearer to the bosom where lay all 
 the relief she now had in this world. She sought more 
 freely than she had done for some time her old retreats, and 
 again the song of the merle had some music for her ear so 
 ready is the oppressed soul to seek its accustomed pleasures, 
 that it will clutch them in the interval of a suspended grief, 
 though sure to return. Her cousin was gone for a time; he 
 could not cross in these paths of the wood; and, oh happy 
 thought ! she would lie on the bosom of her Kirkpatrick, and 
 breathe forth, uninterrupted, love's sweet tale, rendered 
 sweeter and dearer by the grief with which it was shaded. 
 
 The evening fell that night beautiful and serene. No 
 vapour clouded the "silver sheen," and no breath of wind 
 rustled a leaf on the trees. 
 
 "Hail to ye, bright queen!" ejaculated Helen, as she 
 folded her mantle round her, and was on the eve of seeking 
 the wood; " once more light me to my lover, if, after this
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OP KIRCONNEL. 51 
 
 meeting, you should for ever hide your face among the cur- 
 tains of heaven," 
 
 And, breathing quick with the rising expectation of being 
 enclosed in his arms, she issued from the house, and sought 
 the well-known loaning that led to the burying-ground. 
 Her grief had sunk for a time amidst the swelling impulses 
 of her passion; and it was not till she had been pressed to 
 his bosom, her brow kissed by his burning lips, and deep- 
 drawn sighs exhausted the ardour of a first embrace after 
 so long a separation, that one single thought of the cruelt 
 of her situation arose in her mind. They sat on the tumulus 
 where they had sat often before. The gravestones around 
 them lay serene in a flood of moonlight; the soft "buller" 
 of the wimpling Kirtle was all that disturbed the silence of 
 the night; calmly there reposed the dead of many genera- 
 tions; if their lives were ended, their griefs, too, were past; 
 and Mary of the Le', whose grey monument reflected clearly 
 the moon's light, was free from the anguish which, in 
 struggling sighs, came from the bosom of her who was yet 
 above the green mound. Helen told her lover all the ex- 
 traordinary circumstances of her situation. She wept at 
 every turn of a new difficulty, and Adam's eyes were also 
 suffused with tears; he pressed her again to his breast, and 
 bade her be of better heart, for that better days were com- 
 ing on the wings of time. 
 
 " I confess," he said, " my dear love, that I am unable 
 to understand the conduct of that dark-minded man; but 
 what can he do, if my Helen should yet redeem her error, 
 and make this necessary disclosure? That is alone the 
 cure of our pain. Oh, Helen! what a load of evil might 
 have been averted from our heads by the exercise of a little 
 self-command!" 
 
 " I see it, I feel it," replied she; " but there are powers 
 higher than the resolves of mortals. I have struggled with 
 ray self till the blood was sent back in my veins, and fright-
 
 52 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 eued nature saved the powerless victim of grief by the 
 mantle of unconsciousness. What, Adam, shall I do 1 I 
 feel I am unequal to the task of speaking a daughter's re- 
 bellion and a traitor's resolution." 
 
 "When everything is explained, Helen," replied the 
 other, "the treachery disappears, and a father and mother's 
 love will not die under the passing cloud of a little anger. 
 Think of our bliss, love ! Did hope never bring courage to 
 your tongue, Helen 1 Ah, what would that bright goddess 
 make Adam Fleming dare ! " 
 
 "And what," said she, "would Helen Bell not dare for 
 the love she bears to her Adam, if that sacred feeling of a 
 daughter's duty were overcome ? But it must be. I shall 
 fall upon my mother's neck, and weep out with burning 
 tears of repentance a daughter's contrition. I will appeal 
 to the heart of a mother and a woman. I will conjure u]> 
 her own first love, move again the spring of her earliest 
 affection, and feign to her my father lost, and her heart 
 wrecked. Ay, Adam, hope the hope of the possession of 
 you will accomplish all this. Helen has said it, and the 
 issue will prove." 
 
 This burst of generous resolution produced a flood of tears. 
 She crept closer to him, and the throbs of her heart were 
 heard in the silence which reigned among the graves. A 
 rustling sound among the trees roused her; she lifted her 
 head, and fixed her eyes on a part of the wood on the other 
 side of the Kirtle. For a moment she watched some move- 
 ments not noticed by her lover. They rose, and Adam stood 
 aside to get a better view of the interruption. In an instant 
 she clung to his bosom; a loud shot reverberated through 
 the wood; Helen fell dead the ball destined for Kirkpatrick 
 having been received by the devoted maiden, who saw the 
 hand uplifted that was to do the deed of blood. Neither 
 scream nor audible sigh came from her; one spring when the 
 ball entered the heart and death !
 
 THE LEGEND OF FAIR HELEN OF KIECONNEL. 53 
 
 Kirkpatrick saw at once death and the cause of it, and 
 in an instant he gave pursuit. Springing with a bound over 
 the Kirtle, he seized Blacket House in the act of flight. The 
 murderer turned, sword in hand, and a battle was fought in 
 the wood, such as never was witnessed in the heat of the 
 contest of armies. Had his opponent had twenty lives, the 
 fury of Kirkpatrick would have been unsatiated by them 
 all. His spirit was roused to that of a demon; a superna- 
 tural strength nerved his arm; he despised life and all its 
 blessings; the world had in an instant lost for him any 
 charms, but as the place where lived that one man whose 
 blood was to glut his vengeance. His sword found the 
 heart of Blacket House, and twenty wounds verified the 
 
 ballad: 
 
 " I lighted down my sword to draw 
 I hacked him in pieces sma' 
 I hacked him in pieces sma', 
 For her sake that died for me." 
 
 He returned to the burying-ground. His Helen's body was 
 as cold as that of those who lay beneath. 
 " Helen fair beyond compare, 
 
 I'll mak a garland of thy hair, 
 
 Shall bind my heart for evermair 
 
 Until the day I dee." 
 
 Such is the story of Helen Bell, a subject that has em- 
 ployed the pen of many a poet, and brought tears to the 
 eyes of millions. We sometimes, according to our privilege, 
 amuse our readers with pure unadulterated fiction. Would 
 chat our task had been such on this occasion ! for we prefer 
 the sorrow which fancy, imitating truth, rouses in the heart, 
 to the depressing power of " owre true a tale." We may 
 add, that the Maid of Kirconnel is more frequently called 
 Helen Irving than Helen Bell, in consequence of some doubt 
 as to whether her mother was not really one of the Bells, 
 and her father an Irving, After giving the matter all due
 
 54 TALES OF THE BORDEB& 
 
 consideration, and searching several authorities, we are sa- 
 tisfied that the truth is as we have related it. Our very 
 ingenious friend, Professor Gillespie, in a section of the 
 "Gleanings of the Covenant," says that the beautiful ballad, 
 *ome of the lines of which we have quoted, was written on 
 " Helen Palmer." We must have his authority.
 
 TOM DUNCAN S YAEN. 55 
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YAKN. 
 
 WILLIAM DUNCAN had lived nearly thirty years in the 
 service of a landed proprietor in Dumfries-shire; where his 
 honest, upright, trustworthy character had gained him the 
 esteem and respect of his employer; and he was looked 
 upon more in the light of a humble friend, than of a hired 
 menial. Nearly five-and-twenty years had elapsed since 
 his marriage to Janet, who had long before been his "nee- 
 bor " servant. Their family consisted of two children, a son 
 and daughter; the latter of whom had been, at the time our 
 story commences, for some time married to a farm-servant, 
 and was living in a cottage closely adjoining her father's. 
 The son had been sent, when about seventeen years of age, 
 with cattle to Annan, and had there made acquaintance 
 with some seafaring men, whose stories of the wonders of 
 other lands had excited his curiosity, and awakened an ir- 
 repressible longing to witness the strange sights he had 
 heard of. It was in vain that his father and mother strove 
 to divert his thoi;ghts into another channel "he would be 
 a sailor; " and tl ey at last wisely consented to what they 
 could not prevent. About two years after his departure, 
 Willie's good old master died; having left his faithful ser- 
 vant a small annuity, sufficient to make his old age comfort- 
 ablefor he was now almost superannuated. The old gen- 
 tleman had died childless, leaving his estate to a distant 
 relative; and his successor, knowing the estimation in 
 which Willie had been held by his late master, allowed 
 him to live rent-free in one of the cottages on the estate, 
 and treated him, on all occasions, with great consideration 
 and kindness. There was but one thing wanting to make
 
 56 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the old couple happy: their simple appetites were easily 
 satisfied; they had enough and to spare, without the toil 
 of labour; but their son, their only son, was a wanderer, and 
 years had passed since they had received any intelligence 
 of him, and then they had only been informed that he had 
 gone to some foreign station. " Oh, could we but see him 
 ance mair afore we dee!" was often their exclamation. 
 
 One stormy night in October, the old couple were startled 
 by a loud rap at the door. 
 
 " Preserve us !" said Janet, in great alarm, " what's that ? 
 Wha can that be chappin at the door on sic a nicht as this? 
 Maybe it's some puir seekin body, wantin shelter frae the 
 blast. Up, Willie, man, an' ask wha it is." 
 
 "It's me, faither it's Betty," replied the voice of the 
 daughter, in answer to her father's queries; "let me in." 
 
 "What's brocht ye oot, woman," said Willie, "in sic a 
 clash o' rain as this?" 
 
 " There's a puir sailor lad come to oor hoose," replied she, 
 " an' he wants something to eat an' drink, an' we haena a 
 bite o' cake left: hae ye ony to spare? An', what think ye, 
 faither? he kens oor Tarn weel, an' says he saw him no that 
 lang syne." 
 
 "Kens oor Tarn!" said the old man; "what for did ye 
 no bring him wi' ye ? Gie's doon my plaid j I'll gang an' 
 speak to him mysel." 
 
 "Na, na, faither; ye mamma cross the door while it's 
 pourin this gate. I'll fetch him when he's had his supper. 
 I'd hae brocht him afore, but I thocht maybe he micht be 
 makin ye believe oor Tarn was comin hame, or some sic 
 clavers, an' ye wad be wearyin to see him, an' maybe no 
 see him after a'." 
 
 " An' what for micht he no be comin hame ? " said Willie. 
 " It's time he war, I think, if he wishes to find the auld folk 
 to the fore. 
 
 "Well, but, faither, suppose he war to tell ye that he
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YAKN. 57 
 
 had seen oor Tarn twa or three days syne, an' that ye micht 
 expeck to see him hame sune ? " 
 
 " Mercy, lass ! what's the matter wi' ye, wi' yer maybes 
 an' yer supposes? What gars ye gang swaggerin up an' 
 doon that gait, lookin as ye were demented 1 There's some- 
 thing pleasin ye by common. If 'twar Tarn himsel, ye 
 couldna be mair uplifted." 
 
 "An' guid richt hae I to be uplifted, mither, if ye 
 kent a'." 
 
 " Eh, it's Tarn himsel ! " almost screamed the old woman; 
 " where is he? Let me see my bairn." 
 
 " Here's all that's left of him, mother," said a fine, stout- 
 looking sailor; who, unable any longer to restrain his im- 
 patience, stumped in on a wooden leg just as Janet was 
 speaking. 
 
 " My bairn ! my bairn ! " sobbed the old woman, throw- 
 ing her arms round him; " mony a lang day hae I prayed 
 to see ye ance mair; an' noo that I hae ye, oh, do I see ye 
 a puir cripple ! " 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing, mother; nothing but the fortune 
 of war. If I'd lost my head instead of my leg, mother, 
 I wouldn't have been here to tell my own story." 
 
 "That's Gude's truth; an' great reason hae we to be 
 thankfu it's nae waur. But, oh ! it's a sair dispensation." 
 
 "All, old boy! how are you?" said Tom, shaking his 
 father heartily by the hand; "all alive and hearty eh? " 
 
 "Weel aneugh, weel aneugh, Tarn; just choppin on; but 
 richt glad am I to see ye again, my son. But, Tarn, that 
 wasna the gate ye wad hae spoken to yer auld faither afore 
 ye gaed frae hame." 
 
 " My manner of speaking may be changed, father," re- 
 plied the young man, respectfully; "but there's no change 
 in my heart that's true-blue still; and it'll be long before 
 I can clear off my reckoning with you for all your kindness 
 to me. No, no, father, my heart's in the right place still"
 
 68 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 " Weel, my man, I hope sae. Sit doon an' tell us a' 
 that's happened ye sin' we last heard frae ye. But wait a 
 wee. Janet, seek oot the best that's in the hoose for the 
 puir fallow; an', whan he's had a guid supper, he'll be in 
 better fettle for giein us his cracks." 
 
 "Tak aff yer jacket, my bonny man," said his mother; 
 "an' hing it up afore the fire, an' draw in till't yersel. 
 Willie, I'm thinkin there's something in the bottle. I'll 
 put on the kettle, an' we'll gie the lad something he'll be 
 nane the waur o'." 
 
 After the sailor had done his devoirs at the supper-table, 
 the whole party drew round the fire, and the old man, light- 
 ing his " cutty," said 
 
 " Noo, Tarn, tell us a' aboot what ye've been doin. an' 
 hoo ye cam to lose yer leg." 
 
 " It's a terrible long yarn, father, and I'm af eared ye'll 
 be glad to sing out Avast ! before I've spun it out; besides, 
 you'll not understand my sea lingo." 
 
 "Nae fear o' that," replied he; "ye ken I was ance a bit 
 o' a sailor myseL We could see the Solway frae the hoose 
 I hired at when I was a callan." 
 
 "But, eh, Tarn, my man," said old Janet, "ye talk Eng- 
 lish as weel's the grand folk doon by." 
 
 "Ay, ay, mother; leave me alone for that. My mess- 
 mates used to say as how I ought to have been a Methodist 
 preacher, seein I knowed so well how to tip them the 
 dictionary." 
 
 " Hear till him ! " said the delighted mother, holding up 
 her hands in admiration. 
 
 " But, howsomdever, they haven't made me proud on't, 
 you see, with all their blarney. But I must carry on, or 
 my yarn '11 reach from this to the end of next week It's 
 now six years since I got a berth on board one o' them 
 Newcastle colliers, and a jolly time we had on't; for, though 
 we'd I'vsbi* 1 :' *o do, and no want of wet jackets, there was
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YAEN. 59 
 
 . always a full bread-bag, and swipes and grab at no allow- 
 ance. They're the craft to teach a man his duty ! Well, 
 Td been in that trade about a year, when I goes ashore one 
 day with the mate at Wapping; and, while we were sitting 
 comfortably swigging our grog, the landlord comes rushing 
 in, and, says he, 'My lads, you must brush; there's the 
 pressgang a-coming.' Hearing that, the mate and I bolted 
 out of the door, and ran for it; but they twigged us, and 
 gave chase. They nabbed the mate in less nor no time; but 
 I cracked on a press o' sail, and was dropping them astern 
 fast, when, as I was looking back at them over my shoulder, 
 I ran stem on to an old fishwife. My eyes, what a crash ! 
 I sends her and her sprats a-swimming in the gutter, and 
 I falls as flat as a flounder on the pavement, spouting out 
 blood from my nose, like a whale. Well, to cut a long yarn 
 short, we were taken on board the tender, and afterwards 
 drafted into the Fire-eater frigate, which was stationed on 
 the north coast of Ireland. I was very well off on board 
 the frigate. ' Sharp ' was the word, to be sure, and the cat 
 often wagged her tail; but then, as long as a man was smart 
 and willing, he'd never no 'casion to be afeared: there was- 
 never no favour nor affection there. Well, as I said afore, 
 we were cruising off the coast of Ireland, when, one day, it 
 came on to blow great guns from the westward. For three 
 blessed days, there was the little Fire-eater tossing and tum- 
 bling, and kicking up her starn, and going through as many 
 manoauvres as a dancing-master, till at last we were driven 
 so far west that we made the coast of Argyle; then 'bout 
 ship we went, and stood away again to the eastward. Well, 
 we carried on for a matter of four-and-twenty hours, with 
 a little more northing in the wind, when we made land 
 again, and hauled up two or three points to clear it. The 
 weather was so thick ye might a'most have cut it with a 
 knife, and there wasn't such a thing as a dirty face on board, 
 the sea made a clean wash of everything, and it blowed
 
 00 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 my eyes, how it did blow ! Mayhap, you call this a gale, 
 but you wouldn't have heard it beside that. It was bad 
 enough to be on deck, but ten times worse below; a devil 
 of a sea smashed in some of the ports, and the leeside of 
 the main-deck was three feet deep in water. And then, 
 while we were hard at work, stuffing up the holes where 
 the water was pouring in, and pumping, there was an aw- 
 fui stramash on deck; for there was the land again, close 
 aboard of its ahead. 'Wear ship!' was now the cry, and 
 away went the little hooker again on the other tack, and 
 bravely did she behave a better sea-boat never swam; for, 
 battered and knocked about as she was, she showed true 
 pluck; no sooner was she knocked over by a sea, than she 
 rose again like a duck, though she was forced to shake her 
 feathers now and then. Well, at eight-bells in the first 
 watch (midnight), we thought it was all up with us again, 
 for there was the surf breaking on the rocks little more 
 than half-a-mile on the lee- bow and touch-and-go it was; 
 but our tight little barky though she was anything but 
 tight by that time though she lay over till she was half 
 buried alive, looked boldly up in the wind, and shot past 
 like a sea-bird. If there hadn't been such a devil of a 
 noise, you might have heard a pin drop just then. There 
 was not a man on deck who did not hold his breath, and 
 gasp, when the danger was past, like one that's just escaped 
 drowning. 
 
 " ' By the powers !' says I to Bill Jones, 'that was a close 
 shave.' 
 
 " ' You may say that,' says he. 
 
 "Just as he was a-speaking, the moon shone out, and 
 there, not six hundred yards to leeward, were breakers 
 again. The sea was running as high as our tops at the 
 time; but beyond and above it we saw the breakers curling 
 their white tops, foaming, and dashing, and roaring, as if 
 they were raging to get at us, as you may have seec \ril4
 
 TOM DUNCAN S YAEN. 61 
 
 beasts tearing and leaping, and striving to break their 
 chain to get out of the menagerie at their prey. Now, in- 
 deed, it seemed there was no chance of escape there was 
 no room to wear, and the ship was already half-buried 
 under her canvas; our only hoped seemed to be in our 
 ground tackle, and orders were given to clear away the 
 anchors, and to have all ready for cutting away the masts. 
 That was an awful moment; we thought it was all up with 
 us, and there was many a pale cheek, and many a muttered 
 prayer for mercy and deliverance; for the worst amongst us 
 are glad to look aloft when death is staring us in the face 
 below. Our captain was as brave a fellow, and as good a 
 seaman, as ever stepped a plank. What his feelings may 
 have been, it's impossible for the likes o' me to say; but I 
 never seed him more cool in a calm than at that moment, 
 when the bravest might have flinched, and no man could 
 have cast it in his teeth. His voice never shook when he 
 gave his orders, loud, clear, and distinct; and his gallant 
 bearing cheered the down-hearted, and gave fresh pluck to 
 the daring. He was a tramp, that fellow ! He ordered the 
 foretopsail and foresail to be set. It seemed to be a rash 
 and dangerous experiment, but it succeeded. Nothing ven- 
 ture, nothing win; we might have lost our masts, but we 
 saved the ship. The little frigate lay over for a minute, as 
 if she was never going to rise no more; all hands thought 
 the masts must go, for everything aloft grinned again, and 
 the rigging was as taut as bars of iron; but it held on, and 
 the frigate righted again, and sprung ahead, as you have 
 seen a hare make a fresh stretch from the hounds and we 
 were all saved. We shaved the reef so close, that I'm 
 blessed if I couldn't a'most have chucked a biscuit on 
 shore." 
 
 "Mercy!" said the old woman; "what an escape!" 
 "Ay, mother, we sailors have many a narrow squeak for 
 it, that you long-shore folks never dream of; but you know.
 
 62 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 as the song says, ' There's a sweet little cherub sits perched 
 up aloft, to take care of the life of poor Jack;' and we're as 
 safe, for the matter o' that, on the stormy sea, as you are 
 on the terry finny, as our doctor used to call the land." 
 
 "Weel, but what was the upshot o' the business?" said 
 Willie. 
 
 "Why, ye see, though we had escaped so mirac'lously 
 like, we were still too near a lee-shore to be quite com- 
 fortable; for we'd another headland to weather afore we 
 could say we was clear o' danger. There was never an 
 eye closed on board that night, and a long and weary night 
 it was. Blessed if ever I seed a craft stand up under her 
 canvas as our little barky did, carrying on at the rate of 
 seven knots an hour, while the sea made a fair breach over 
 her every now and then, and made her stagger from stem 
 to starn. At last, 'old roarer,' as I've heard our doctor 
 call the daybreak, made its appearance, and we saw the 
 land we was afeared o', some distance astarn. After that, 
 the gale began to moderate, and a fair wind soon took us 
 under our anchorage." 
 
 Here old Janet interrupted her son, with, "Weel, but 
 Tarn, ye haena tauld us yet hoo ye cam to lose yer leg." 
 
 " Never hurry no man's cattle, mother," replied the sailor; 
 " leave me to spin my own yarn my own way, and I'll come 
 to the end on't at last; I told you you'd cry out Avast! 
 afore I'd done." 
 
 " Hoot, Janet," said Willie, "let the lad tak his ain gate. 
 It just astonishes me to hear him rinnin the words oot sae 
 glib, an' him sic a solid callant as he used to be." 
 
 " Weel, weel, gang on, my man; I'll no meddle wi' ye ony 
 mair." 
 
 " Then here goes ! Carry on again, says I," replied Tom. 
 "The frigate I belonged to afterwards went on the Ja- 
 maica station, and cruised about, to protect the merchant- 
 men from the pirates as infested them seas. Well, we
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 63 
 
 were dodging about one night, under topgallantsails, off 
 Cape St Antonio, with just wind enough to make the barky 
 crawl through the water. It was my look-out on deck, and 
 I sees something like a large bird, as it seemed to me, ho- 
 vering about in a patch of clear sky; so I stared at it, and 
 stared at it, but I couldn't make out what it could be, for 
 it kept moving backwards and forwards, but always in the 
 same part of the sky. So I calls the midshipman of the 
 watch, and says to him 
 
 " 'D'ye see that large bird a-flying about there, sir? It's 
 the biggest I ever seed, and it keeps always about the same 
 place; I can't make out what it can be after.' Well, he 
 looks and wonders like myself, and then he goes to fetch 
 the night-glass; and, after he'd squinted through it for a 
 minute or two, he just mutters to himself, ' The devil !' and 
 away he runs aft to the luftenant of the watch, and brings 
 him a-running back with him. 
 
 " ' Whereabouts ?' said the luftenant 
 
 "'There, sir; just under that cloud that's hiding the 
 moon.' 
 
 '"Ay, so it is!' said he; 'I see her spars plain enough; 
 nothing but a royal loose and there's her hull!' he con- 
 tinued, as the moon broke out, and showed us a long, low, 
 rakish-looking square brig, lying as snug as a duck in the 
 water, about two miles on our lee-bow. ' I don't like the 
 look of her at all,' says the luff, and away he goes to make 
 his report. She seemed to have twigged us at the same time, 
 and didn't like the look of us neither; for, almost before 
 the smoke had cleared away from our bows, after we had 
 spoken to her with one of the forecastle guns, we could 
 hear the pipe on board of her, the night was so still; and, 
 in a crack, she was one cloud of canvas, from the truck to 
 the lower boom. Blowed if ever I seed a man-of-war do 
 the thing smarter. 'All hands make sail in chase!' was 
 the ciy on board of us, and, in a very short time, the water
 
 64 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 was talking Spanish under our bows. Every stitch of sail 
 was packed on the ship : but the stranger stood right away 
 before the light breeze, and crawled away from us fast, 
 for that was our worst sailing point. We kept a-blazing 
 away with our bow guns, to bring her to; but the more 
 we fired, the more she wouldn't stop; and we might just 
 as well have fired at the moon, for all the mischief we 
 could do her. At daylight, she was hull down ahead; but 
 the breeze freshened with the rising sun, and we began 
 to fetch up our starnway, and, before noon, we began to 
 drop our shot into her. She wasn't slow in answering 
 at first from her stern guns, which were uncommon well 
 sarved, and every now and then walked a ball through 
 our sails, but luckily did not strike our masts. We were 
 overhauling her in great style, peppering away as fast as 
 we could, when all at once she began to yaw about, and, 
 giving a broad sheer away to port, she shortened sail, and 
 then came to the wind again on the starboard tack, with 
 her maintopsail to the mast, and doused a red rag she 
 had a-flying at the main. We gave over firing, and soon 
 bowled up alongside of her, rolled up the small sail, hauled 
 up the foresail, and backed the main-yard. Our captain 
 hailed her in a devil of a rage, and was answered in some 
 lingo I couldn't understand; but the fellow pointed to his 
 boat, as had a plank knocked out of her side; and orders 
 were given to man our boats, and send them on board, to 
 take possession of her. Well, just as we were a-lowering 
 the boats, and all hands pleased at the thoughts of a good 
 prize, blowed if she didn't quietly steal her fore-yard for- 
 ward a little, to gather way, and before you could say Jack 
 Robinson, she was braced sharp up, with all her small kites 
 set, and, as she stood across our bows, she pitched it into- 
 us in style. It was a blind look-out, sartinly, to let the 
 sneaking scoundrel slip through our fingers that way; but 
 there was no help for it now. The boats were secured
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 65 
 
 again; and in a few minutes we were after her. As long 
 as the breeze held strong and steady, we had rather the 
 best on't; but it soon began to die away, and then we 
 thought we 'would lose her for sartin, when a lucky shot 
 crippled her gaff, which soon snapped like a carrot. Now 
 that so much after-sail was off her, she couldn't keep her 
 wind, and we neared her fast. ' Don't spare her, my lads !' 
 shouted the captain; and we did pour the grape and canister 
 into her in fine style, till she was a regular wreck; but she 
 showed pluck to the last, and kept blazing away at us as 
 long as she was able. At last she got tired, and gave over 
 firing, and struck her colours. The boats were well manned 
 and armed, and were again sent to take possession of her; 
 the frigate running almost alongside, and threatening to 
 blow her out of the water, if she attempted any further re- 
 sistance. When we were coming up under her quarter in 
 the boats, we heard the sound of loud quarrelling on board, 
 and when we got fairly on the quarterdeck, we found the 
 captain of the pirate swearing like a trooper, and saying as 
 how his crew had betrayed him, like cowardly dogs, as 
 they were. He kept stamping up and down the deck like' 
 mad, looking as if he could eat the luftenant, when he 
 took his sword from him. Ten or twelve desperate-looking 
 rough' uns as ever I seed gathered round him, muttering that 
 it was better to die on the quarterdeck like men, than hang 
 like dogs at the yardarm, and all at once they snatched 
 up some tommyhawks as was lying on the deck, and made 
 a desperate rush upon us. We had an awful tussle for it; 
 and, just as we were in the thick on't, hand to hand, up 
 runs a young man from below, and sings out to us, ' Save 
 me save me !' As soon as the pirate captain seed him, he 
 ran at him like a tiger, and, seizing him by the throat, 
 shouted out, 'Dead men tell no tales!' and raised his 
 tommyhawk to cleave him to the skull. Poor lad ! he 
 thought his signal for sailing was made, that it Was all ap 
 VOL. ix. c
 
 C8 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 with him. He muttered, 'Mercy! mercy!' But poor mercy 
 would he have met with, if I hadn't run up just in time, 
 and fetched the fellow a slash with my cutlass, which made 
 him drop the tommyhawk like a hot potato. He left the 
 lad, and turned round upon me, gnashing his teeth like 
 nothing at all with very rage, and, before I had time to 
 wink my eye, he snatches a loaded pistol out of my belt, 
 and smashes my leg to shivers. Down I dropped; but be- 
 fore he could finish what he had begun so cleverly, a pistol 
 flashed close to his head, and he staggered, and fell, never 
 to rise no more. When I came to my senses again, I found 
 myself in the sick-bay, on board my own ship. The sur- 
 geon was forced to cut off my leg to save my life; and when 
 we arrived at Port Royal, I was sent ashore to the hospital, 
 and afterwards got my discharge." 
 
 "An' what o' the what d'ye ca' them rats?" said old 
 JaneV. 
 
 "Oh, they were taken into Port Royal, and tried for 
 piracy; there was lots of evidence against them, the blood- 
 thirsty rascals, and they were all hanged, except three or 
 four. And so there s an end of my yarn, father; and a pre- 
 cious long one, I daresay, you think it is; and here am I 
 come home a poor useless cripple, to moor myself for life, 
 if so be you'll let me come to an anchor under your lee." 
 
 " Ay, my boy," replied the old man, clapping him kindly 
 on the shoulder, "as long's there's a plack to the fore in 
 the purse, or a gowpenfu' o' meal in the kist, ye'se aye be 
 welcome to a share." 
 
 "True-blue for ever!" shouted Tom; "but, father, it's 
 not come to that yet; I'm not going to anchor without 
 paying the harbour dues. Here," continued he, tossing a 
 well-filled purse to the old man; "I haven't been so long 
 afloat for nothing; there's a good whack of prize-money 
 there, and Til come in for a pension by and by, if I've 
 luck."
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 67 
 
 "Keep it yersel, Tarn," replied Willie; "I'm no gaun to 
 touch a bawbee o't. Gude be tliankit ! I hae aneu<jh an' to 
 spare." 
 
 Finding his father firm in his refusal, Tom at last said 
 
 "Well, well, keep it for me, if you won't keep it for your- 
 self. It won't keep company with me long; for, somehow, 
 whenever I cast off the standing part of a guinea, it devilish 
 soon unreeves itself in quarter less no time. Stow it away 
 in your own lockers, and serve it out to me now and. then, 
 when I wants baccy." 
 
 As this seemed a very rational kind of arrangement, the 
 old man consented to become his son's banker. 
 
 " And now that I've run all my line off the reel, father, 
 you must give me a spell, and let's hear all that's been put 
 down in your log since I left you." 
 
 "Oh, it's no muckle I hae to tell, Tarn," replied he; "ae 
 day has been as like the ane that gaed afore't, as ae pear to 
 anither; I was born here, and here I'll maist likely dee." 
 
 "But what's become o' bonny Jean Cameron, father? 
 I remember well how fond I was of her, when I was a boy 
 at school; I've oft thought on her, when we've been keeping 
 up Saturday night, at sea. Many's the tot I've emptied to 
 her health." 
 
 "She's still to the fore, Tarn, and 'maist as bonny as 
 ever; she was married four years syne, but she's a widow 
 noo." He then went on to tell his son the other changes 
 that had taken place since his departure, the principal of 
 which was the death of his late master and kind friend, 
 Murray of Greenha'. " He was a guid freend to me," said 
 Willie, drawing the back of his hand over his eyes; " but 
 lie's gane noo. I've nae cause to compleen o' my present 
 maister, for a kinder couldna bej but he'll never be to me 
 like him that's gane." 
 
 James Hamilton, old Willie Duncan's present master, 
 had made a large fortune in the West India trade, and waa
 
 68 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 proprietor of a valuable estate in Jamaica. For a seiles of 
 years, so rapidly had he amassed wealth, that he seemed to 
 be a peculiar favourite of Fortune; but Fortune has ever been 
 a capricious dame, and those who are apparently highest in 
 her good graces, are often made to feel how uncertain is the 
 tenure by which they hold them. She seems, like some of 
 the savages of the western world, to pamper her victims 
 with the good things of this life, only to make them feel 
 more keenly the reverses she is preparing for them. James 
 Hamilton was one of those men, unfortunately too rare, 
 who do not allow themselves to be dazzled by the flattering 
 appearances of present prosperity, but who, aware of the 
 changeable and fleeting nature of all earthly possessions, 
 hold on the even tenor of their course, with minds prepared 
 for every vicissitude. He always acted upon high and pure 
 principle, and never, in the height of prosperity, forgot that 
 the same Supreme Benefactor, who in his bounty had blessed 
 him with abundance, might, in his wisdom, think fit to try 
 him with adversity. He was a kind-hearted and liberal 
 man, but withal cool, quiet, and methodical in his* manners 
 and actions. Heedless of the opinion of the world, he acted 
 up to the dictates of his own conscientious feelings of right 
 and wrong; and his strict notions of evenhanded justice 
 often led him to enter into engagements, and to perform ac- 
 tions, which, though perfectly just and rigidly honest, bore, 
 in the eyes of a misjudging world, the impress of calculat- 
 ing selfishness and niggardly illiberality. But, notwith- 
 standing, there was such straightforward honesty, such 
 child-like, confiding simplicity, and such pure and unpre- 
 tending Christianity, evident in his character, that it was 
 impossible for those who knew him well not to esteem and 
 love him. His principal failing was one which "leaned to 
 virtue's side." Upright, and honourable, and candid, he 
 thought all others like himself, and was often the dupe of 
 designing and crafty men; who, with more worldly wisdom,
 
 TOM DUNCAN S YARN. 69 
 
 were far his inferiors in judgment, and sound, practical 
 sense; but who practised upon his confiding nature by the 
 semblance of qualities which they did not possess. He had 
 long been blessed with the companionship of an amiable 
 and excellent wife; and, when she was snatched from him 
 by a sudden and virulent disorder, he could ill have borne his 
 bereavement, had he not been supported by the conviction 
 that she was only removed to a purer and happier state of 
 existence; and he bowed with submission to the decrees of 
 that Being who " doeth all things wisely." His only s<\n, 
 John, who had been an object of most tender solicitude to 
 both his parents, had been educated with the greatest care; 
 and, though apparently born the heir to great wealth, had 
 undergone a regular probation in a mercantile house in the 
 city, of which he hoped soon to become a partner. Many 
 of the elder Hamilton's friends had expressed their surprise 
 at his choice of a profession for his son, and wondered that, 
 rolling in wealth, as he was supposed to be, he should con- 
 demn his heir to the drudgery of a counting-house: but 
 events proved that he had acted wisely and well. The sud- 
 den and totally unexpected failure of a large West India 
 house with which he was connected, and to support which 
 he had advanced considerable sums, gave the first shock to 
 his credit; and, as is often the case, reverse followed reverse 
 afterwards, until utter ruin seemed to be inevitable. Un- 
 dazzled by prosperity, Hamilton proved himself to be equally 
 unshaken by adversity. His character as a mercantile man 
 stood so high for unimpeachable integrity and indefatigable 
 industry, that he might have made head for some years 
 longer against the stream of adverse circumstances, and 
 might, perhaps, eventually have overcome them; but the 
 plain path of duty was the one he had followed through 
 life, and he did not desert it now. He immediately wound 
 up his affairs, and, having settled with his creditors to the 
 uttermost farthing, he found himself almost destitute,
 
 70 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 with the exception of his personal property, and the West 
 India estate; which, however, had for some years barely 
 paid its own expenses. It was now that Hamilton had 
 reason to rejoice that his beloved son had, by his wise 
 foresight, been rendered independent of circumstances, and 
 had been bred up in habits which would enable him soon 
 to acquire a comfortable establishment for himself. H& 
 immediately sold his house and furniture, and retired to a 
 humble lodging in the city, where, with patient and laud- 
 able energy, he exerted himself to recover the ground he 
 had lost. Sudden and unexpected as his reverses had 
 been, he never murmured at the hardship of his lot, con- 
 vinced that all the dispensations of Providence are wisely 
 and mercifully ordered, and happy in the consciousness- 
 that he had nothing to reproach himself with, as far as- 
 concerned his dealing with his fellow-men. About this time,, 
 his son John was sent out to Jamaica, on some mercantile- 
 speculation, by the house with which he was connected, and 
 obtained permission to remain some time on the island, to 
 inquire into the management of his father's plantation;, 
 and, if necessary and possible, to effect its sale. He was- 
 about twenty-four years of age; tall, and handsome in 
 his appearance, and a youth of excellent dispositions and 
 steady principles. By his persevering and conscientious at- 
 tention to his duties, he had gained the confidence and es- 
 teem of his employers, and had acquired the character of aa 
 active and clever man of business. He had long been a se- 
 cret admirer of Ellen Winterton, the orphan child of an of- 
 ficer in the army, and who was living under the guardian- 
 ship of the head of his firm. Accustomed, however, always, 
 to keep his feelings under control, and to regulate his desires 
 by the rules of honour and of prudence, young Hamilton did 
 not think himself justified in making his proposals in form, 
 until fortune should have enabled him to do so as an inde- 
 pendent man. The change in his father's circumstances.
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 71 
 
 while it called for fresh exertions on his part, seemed to 
 separate him still more widely from the object of his wishes; 
 but he bore his prolonged probation with cheerfulness, and 
 his grief at parting with Ellen was almost neutralised by the 
 animating prospect of serving his beloved father. After an 
 absence of some months, during which he had written home 
 several times, a letter was received from him, announcing 
 his having left Kingston harbour, in the fast-sailing, well- 
 armed merchant-ship, the Delight, and expressing his hope 
 soon to join his father again. Fortune, in the meanwhile, 
 had smiled again upon the elder Hamilton, in a way he little 
 expected. He was surprised one evening by the receipt of 
 a note from a gentleman, whose signature was unknown to 
 him, and who requested a personal interview with him next 
 morning, at a neighbouring coffee-house. Thither he re- 
 paired accordingly, wondering what could be the nature of 
 the communication the stranger wished to make to him. 
 
 "Mr Hamilton, I believe?" said a gentleman, dressed in 
 deep mourning, to whom the waiter pointed him out, as he 
 entered the room. " I know you well by name and cha- 
 racter, Mr Hamilton, though I have not the happiness of 
 yeur personal acquaintance, and I am happy to be the bearer 
 of pleasing intelligence to you. I am one of the executors 
 of Mr Murray of Greenha', who died childless, and, in con- 
 sequence of the demise of his near relations, has made you 
 his heir; and I have to congratulate you upon your acces- 
 sion to a valuable landed property and a handsome fortune." 
 
 Mr Hamilton was not a little surprised at this announce- 
 ment. Murray of Greenha' was a distant relation of his 
 late father; but the families had had no communication for 
 several years, and he had almost forgotten that such a per- 
 son was in existence. This unexpected revolution, by which 
 he was again restored from poverty to wealth and comfort, 
 excited his warmest feelings of gratitude and thankfulness 
 towards that Being in whom he had always trusted with
 
 72 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 unwavering confidence. He immediately set off to the north, 
 to visit his newly-acquired property, and to carry into effect 
 the provisions of his benefactor's will. Among other duties 
 devolved upon him, was that of providing for our friend 
 Willie Duncan, whose upright, manly character, and grate- 
 ful attachment to his late master, gave him strong claims 
 upon the good-will and respect of his successor. He had 
 been some time in the north when he heard of his son's 
 having left Jamaica; but months instead of weeks had 
 elapsed, and still no further accounts had been received of 
 him, and lie began to be seriously alarmed on his account. 
 His agent in town, in reply to his anxious inquiries, in- 
 formed him that the Delight was known to have left King- 
 ston harbour at the time specified, but that she had not 
 since been heard of; and, as she was so very much beyond 
 her expected time, and several ships had arrived in England, 
 which had only just reached the harbour when she left it, 
 there was now little doubt of her loss. This was sad news 
 to the elder Hamilton, and it required the exercise of all 
 his Christian fortitude to enable him to bear up under the 
 heavy dispensation. He had gained unexpected wealth; 
 but he for whom he prized it had been snatched from him. 
 One afternoon, shortly after the return of the sailor, Tom 
 Duncan, Mr Hamilton was sauntering, in a melancholy 
 mood, along the high road near Greenha', and was scarcely 
 aroused from his abstraction by the rattling of a post- 
 chariot, which was almost upon him before he was aware 
 of its approach. "Stop! stop!" said a voice from the 
 inside. The door was dashed open, and in a moment the 
 bewildered father was in the arms of his long-lost son. It 
 was some time before either of them could speak At last, 
 the father sobbed out 
 
 " My dear, dear son ! I thought you were torn from me 
 for ever ! Heaven be praised for all its mercies ! I shall 
 now die happy. But how have I been so cruelly deceived?
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 73 
 
 They told me you were lost, and my heart was almost 
 broken. But come, come away to the house, and, after 
 you have refreshed yourself, you can gratify my curiosity." 
 On entering the house, John congratulated his father most 
 affectionately on the change that had taken place in his 
 affairs. " I am glad of it on your account, John; for my- 
 self, I care not. I was as happy with my crust and cheese, 
 and with my consciousness that I was doing my duty, as I 
 am now rich beyond my fondest hopes. Yes, John, I 
 thank Heaven, for myself, that I am blessed with a con- 
 tented spirit; and, for you, that, when I die, you will be 
 amply provided for." As soon as John had done ample 
 justice to the substantial lunch placed before him, his father 
 said to him, " If you are not much fatigued, we will take a 
 stroll, and, while I am showing you the lions, you can be 
 telling me your adventures." 
 
 "With all my heart," replied he. 
 
 "When we left Kingston harbour in the Delight, we 
 were all in high glee, in the anticipation of a speedy and 
 pleasant voyage. Our ship was one of the fastest of her 
 class, well armed, and manned with an active and spirited 
 crew; so that, to all human appearance, we had little to 
 dread, either from man or the elements. We had scarcely 
 lost sight of the land, when the wind died away to a dead 
 calm, and the sea became as smooth and clear as a mirror, 
 glancing back the reflection of a bright and cloudless moon. 
 The sails flapped heavily against the masts, as the ship 
 rolled helpless and unmanageable in the long swell, and the 
 water dripped from her channels, as she rose again, after 
 dipping them deep into the sea. All at once a small, dark 
 cloud appeared on the larboard beam. 
 
 " ' Oh, it's nothing,' said the mate. 
 
 " Not so thought the captain, who fortunately came upon 
 deck at the time. 
 
 " ' All hands shorten sail ! ' shouted he. ' Bear a hand !
 
 74 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Up foresail ! in royals and topgallantsails ! Brace the yards 
 round to port ! Stand by topsail haulyards and sheets ! ' 
 
 "These orders were barely carried into effect, when a 
 sudden and tremendous squall struck the ship. The small 
 sails were clued up, and the topsailyards on the caps; but 
 the gallant little bark staggered under the shock, lay over 
 till her gunwale almost touched the water, struggled for a 
 moment, and then rose again. The squall had overtaken 
 them with lightning-like rapidity, and was gone again al- 
 most as quickly. A few moments before, and a neater and 
 snugger ship never swam the water now, she was almost 
 a wreck aloft. The foretopmast was hanging over the side, 
 the jib-boom gone, the maintop-gallant-mast snapped short 
 above the step, and the maintopsail in tatters. All this de- 
 solation had been the work of a moment; the demon of the 
 storm had passed, and all was again calm. 
 
 " ' Thank Heaven it's no worse ! ' said the captain. ' Two 
 minutes sooner, and we should all have been lost ! Better 
 lose a few sticks than the ship herself. But this will be a 
 warning to you, Mr Rogers,' said he to the mate, ' not to be 
 foolhardy for the future.' 
 
 " All hands were immediately set to work to clear away 
 the wreck of the spars, and were busily employed all night. 
 It was late in the forenoon before the wreck of the foretop- 
 mast was launched clear of the ship, and a new maintopsail 
 bent. During this interval, a light breeze had sprung up,. 
 and a strange sail hove in sight to windward. The captain 
 mounted the rigging, and got his glass to bear upon her, and, 
 after a long and anxious look, paced the quarterdeck with 
 hurried and irregular steps, glancing uneasily aloft, and 
 hailing the men to bear a hand with their mast-ropes. 
 
 "'Rogers,' said he to the mate, at the same time hand- 
 ing him the glass, 'take a look at that craft, and tell me 
 what you think of her.' 
 
 " The mate looked long and carefully at her, and, return-
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 75 
 
 ing the glass to his superior, looked doubtingly and inquir- 
 ingly in his face, and shook his head 
 
 " ' I don't like the look of her at all, sir.' 
 
 " ' Nor I, Kogers; however, we'll say nothing about her 
 just now. If the air continues so light, it will take her 
 some time to reach us, and we must make good use of the- 
 opportunity. Hurry the men v;ith the topmast. Heaven 
 send us a cloudy night ! As soon as it is dark, we'll alter 
 our course.' 
 
 " By dint of hard work, and a suspicion among the crew 
 that the stranger was an unpleasant neighbour, we were all 
 ataunto, as the sailors call it, before midnight, and were- 
 standing away before the light breeze. At daylight, the 
 captain's glass swept the horizon, and soon rested upon the 
 object of his search. A long and steady gaze seemed to con- 
 firm both him and the mate in their first suspicion. The 
 vessel, now considerably nearer us, had been evidently 
 watching our motions, and was as evidently in pursuit of 
 us. She was a long, low, rakish-looking brig, creeping 
 along before the faint breeze, and aiding its efforts with her 
 sweeps. 
 
 " ' It's the Dare-Devil, sir !' said the mate, his cheek pal- 
 ing as he spoke; ' I know her now by the black fiddlehead, 
 and her mast-heads black. A bloodier pirate never swam. 
 The Lord have mercy upon us, for he won't ! ' 
 
 " ' Call the hands aft !' said the captain. 
 
 " The men assembled on the quarterdeck in stern silence. 
 They seemed to anticipate what was to follow; but it was 
 evident theirs was not the quietness of fear, but of determi- 
 nation. 
 
 '"My lads,' said the captain, 'that stranger, we have 
 every reason to believe, is a pirate. If there had been any- 
 thing of a breeze, we might have escaped; but now, our 
 only chance is to show her what mettle we're made of. Yon 
 will have to fight for your lives; for so soon as they set foot
 
 76 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 on this deck, they will murder every soul on board. What 
 say you, my lads? Will you die like dogs, or fighting like 
 brave men?' 
 
 "A simultaneous cheer from the crew was the only reply, 
 and they were immediately dismissed to prepare for the im- 
 pending conflict. 
 
 " 'Ah, there she shows her teeth at last,' said the captain, 
 as a puff of smoke burst from the brig, followed by the 
 flash and report of a gun, the ball from which struck the 
 water some distance from us. 
 
 " ' It is of no use our attempting to escape, Rogers !' said 
 the captain; 'he is gaining upon us fast. We will not 
 fire a gun till he is close aboard of us, and till every shot 
 will tell." 
 
 "The guns were all loaded with grape, the fire-arms 
 placed in readiness on deck, and the men ordered to lie 
 down at their quarters, and not to fire a shot till the order 
 was given. Meantime, the pirate rapidly approached, and 
 her shot began to tell upon our rigging and sails. The De- 
 light kept steadily on her course; but her yards, which had 
 been nearly square, were drawn quietly forward, one by 
 one, to port. The pirate was sweeping up at some little 
 distance on our quarter, and had hailed us to heave to 
 directly, or she would sink us. 'Now, my lads,' said o\u % 
 captain, ' be cool and steady. I'm going to cross his hawse : 
 as soon as the guns bear upon him, blaze away.' 
 
 " The helm was put a-starboard, and, as we crossed the 
 bows, we poured our grape into him. The fire was not 
 such a raking one as we expected; for he was too quick for 
 us, and sheered to port almost as soon as ourselves; but it 
 was evident that we had almost sickened him, for he 
 widened his distance, and before night was. almost hull- 
 down to windward of us. 
 
 " ' I hope we have got rid of our troublesome customer, 
 air,' said Rogers to the captain.
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 77 
 
 "'Don't halloo till you're through the wood, 'replied he; 
 ' we haven't done with him yet, I'm afraid. I'm much mis- 
 taken if he is not trying to play a game at humbug with 
 us; as soon as it is dark, he will edge down upon us, and 
 endeavour to take us by surprise. We will keep the 
 men at quarters all night, and haul close to the wind, 
 on the starboard tack, when darkness comes on." 
 
 "At nightfall strict orders were given that all the lights 
 should be put out, except that in the binnacle; and the 
 ship's course was altered. We were in great hopes that 
 by these means we should elude the pursuit of the pirate; 
 for, though the breeze was still light, the night was dark 
 and cloudy, and the mate, after sweeping the horizon with, 
 his night-glass, said, in a joyous tone, to the captain 
 
 " ' I think we have outwitted him, sir; I see no signs of 
 him now.' 
 
 " 'Let me look,' said the captain. ' Holloa! What is 
 that dark body to the northward ? That infernal brig, 
 I'll be bound. How could he have seen us V 
 
 As he spoke, his eye glanced aloft, and there, to his 
 great surprise, was a light shining at the mizentop- 
 gallantmasthead ! 
 
 '"What light is that ?' shouted he ; 'who has dared 
 to disobey the orders ? Jump up there, one of you boys, 
 and douce it. Rogers, there's a traitor on board.' 
 
 "' Then Jose is the man, sir I* 
 
 " 'The Delight had lost a few hands in harbour, by fever ; 
 and, afew days before she sailed, a Portuguese seaman had 
 been shipped to supply the place of one of them. He was 
 an active, able-bodied fellow, and produced excellent certi- 
 ficates from former ships ; but there was something ex- 
 tremely forbidding and repulsive in his countenance, and 
 the mate was very unwilling to obey Captain Forbes's order 
 to receive him 011 beard. He was a man of few words; but 
 his eyea were eenstatotly waiKlering ) 'wifcha furtive glance,
 
 78 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 round the ship; and, when he did speak, it was generally 
 to express his fear of pirates, and to inquire into the means 
 of defence, of the Delight. On the evening before the ship 
 sailed, he went on shore as one of the boat's crew, but did 
 not make his appearance again till next morning. For 
 this breach of duty he made some plausible excuse, which 
 was unfortunately accepted. It was afterwards proved 
 that he was one of the crew of the pirate, and had been, 
 employed to gain all the information in his power, as to our 
 guns, time of sailing, &c., and to make private signals, if 
 necessary. 
 
 "The brig kept hovering about till daylight, and then 
 bore down upon us, and, when within range, fired a shot 
 across our bows, to make us heave to. To this salutation 
 no answer was returned, but we stood steadily on, as be- 
 fore, reserving our fire for closer quarters. Shot after shot 
 was dropped into us, but still not a hand was moved on 
 board. At last the pirate came within hail, and swore with 
 the most horrid oaths that he would sink us, if we did not 
 immediately heave to. 
 
 " ' Now, my lads, stand by !' The men were on their feet 
 in a moment. ' Starboard a little ! Fire !' Again our grape 
 rattled into her, and we could judge, by the bustle on her 
 decks, and by the loud cries and execrations that reached 
 our ears, that our fire had been a destructive one. Two of 
 our men were killed by his discharge, and our boat amid- 
 ships smashed to pieces; but he again sheered off, and, 
 shaking his sails in the wind, dropped slowly astern. Again 
 our hopes revived, but only to be miserably disappointed. 
 When he was beyond the range of our short carronades, he 
 kept dropping shot after shot into us, with deadly precision 
 from his long gun. 
 
 " ' Rogers,' said the captain, ' if this game lasts long, it is 
 all up with us; unless the breeze freshens, we shall all be 
 murdered like so many sheep.'
 
 TOM DTOfCAHB YARN. 79 
 
 " In vain did we endeavour to come to closer quarters with 
 him; as we shortened sail, so did he. Our guns were use- 
 less, while crash crash crash followed each remorseless 
 shot from his long twelve. The breeze, instead of freshen- 
 ing, gradually died away to a calm, and we lay entirely at 
 his mercy, for he kept sweeping round us, and, unhurt him- 
 self, inflicted deadly injuries upon us. At last, we lay a 
 complete wreck upon the water; our gallant captain was 
 killed, and fifteen of the men either dead or desperately 
 wounded, and the gallant, but exhausted remnant of the 
 crew were persuaded by the mate to consent to surrender. 
 Our colours were accordingly hauled down; yet the pirate 
 for some time paid no attention to this mark of submission 
 on our part, but seemed determined to gratify his thirst for 
 slaughter, by putting his threat of sinking us into execution. 
 At last he ceased firing, and, sweeping up on our quarter, 
 hailed to order the captain of the Delight on board. 
 
 " ' Our captain is killed, and we have not a boat left that 
 can swim.' 
 
 " ' Oh, then, if you can't come to me, I must go and fetch 
 you!' A boat, well manned, soon pushed off ffom the pi- 
 rates, and in a few minutes dashed alongside of us. The 
 first man who boarded us was the captain, as ferocious- 
 looking a monster as I ever beheld; and his followers, who 
 swarmed up the side after him, were, in appearance, worthy 
 of their leader. They rushed on board with cries of exul- 
 tation and rage, brandishing their cutlasses, and shouting, 
 'Down with them !' ' Cut them down, and make an end of 
 them at once!' And they were proceeding to put their 
 threats into execution, when they were checked hi a moment 
 by the loud and commanding tones of the captain. ' Stand 
 back, all of you ! I'll shoot the first man that lays a hand 
 upon them ! No, no, my lads; it would be letting the ras- 
 cals off too cheap to kill them at once; we'll despatch them 
 in pairs at a time; there are twelve of them, so we shall
 
 80 TALES OP THE BOEDERS. 
 
 have six days' sport instead of one.' This proposal was re- 
 ceived with shouts of savage joy by the crew. 'We'll 
 keep these two till the last,' continued he, pointing to the 
 mate and myself, 'that they may have the pleasure of 
 seeing all their comrades walk the plank before them. But, 
 come my lads, be smart; we have no time to lose; put all 
 these fellows on board our little hooker; and then we'll 
 see what's to be done below.' We were all immediately 
 forced into the boat, and rowed on board the brig, where 
 some of us were put in irons, and others lashed to ring- 
 bolts on the deck. The boat then returned, and the work 
 of plunder commenced; and for some hours the pirate 
 crew were busily employed in transferring to the brig all 
 the valuables they could lay their hands upon on board the 
 Delight. When they had taken everything available, they 
 scuttled the ship, and left her, and obliged us, with many 
 taunts and blows, to watch for the catastrophe. It was a 
 heartrending sight to us all to see our gallant little ship 
 gradually settling in the water, rolling deep and uneasily, 
 till at last, after a heavy lurch, she dipped her bulwarks 
 low into the water, and, struggling in vain to recover her- 
 self, sank to rise no more. A groan of horror burst from 
 us all; we felt as if our last connecting link with humanity 
 was broken; we were left powerless in the hands of monsters 
 in human form, but with the spirit of demons. Alas ! our 
 fears were but too well verified: that very evening two of 
 our poor shipmates, after having been tormented in the 
 most savage manner, were blindfolded, and compelled to 
 walk out upon a plank launched from the gangway, from 
 the end of which they fell into the sea, shrieking with 
 horror as they fell. As their bodies plunged heavily into 
 the smooth water, the captain turned to us with a savage 
 sneer, and said 
 
 " ' They were too well fed by half; when it comes to your 
 turn, you won't make such a disturbance amongst the fishes.'
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 81 
 
 "But why need I dwell longer upon these horrors? For 
 five succeeding days, the same murderous scene was en- 
 acted; we wt.re fed on bread and water, and tormented in 
 every way that cruelty could suggest, and then had the 
 horror of witnessing the death of our companions, and of 
 anticipating the same cruel fate for ourselves. At last the 
 mate and I were the only survivors, and we were brought 
 to the gangway, to mount the same fatal plank which had 
 been the instrument of death to our unfortunate ship- 
 mates. Our eyes were blindfolded, and, weak and ex- 
 hausted as we were, we looked forward to death as an easy 
 and happy release from our miseries. We bade each other 
 farewell 
 
 " ' Our murderers allow us one blessing, Eogers,' said I 
 ' to die together.' 
 
 "That remark saved my life. 
 
 " 'A blessing is it?' exclaimed the captain; 'then it's one 
 that I'll be hanged if you enjoy. You shall go to the devil 
 by yourself. Take the handkerchief off that sentimental 
 gentleman's eyes, and let him see his dear friend take a 
 leap in the dark. He can moralise about it till to-morrow 
 evening.' 
 
 "Poor Rogers! I did indeed feel deserted, when the 
 sullen plunge announced that the sea had closed over its 
 prey! To this refinement in cruelty on the part of the 
 pirate, however, I eventually owed my deliverance. Slowly 
 and painfully did the first hours of that night pass over my 
 head. My thoughts constantly recurred to the horrors I 
 had witnessed, and to the dreadful doom that awaited me 
 on the morrow. The tears filled my eyes as I prayed for 
 forgiveness of my past sins, and for strength to support 
 me through the coming trial. The brig was tumbling 
 about on the almost calm sea, with all sails furled, except 
 the topgallantsail, which by some chance had broken adrift, 
 
 and the crew, not excepting the look-out man, were all 
 
 c2
 
 82 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 asleep, when all at once the report of a gun came "booming 
 over the water. The sound acted like magic upon the 
 slumbering crew they were on the alert in a moment 
 the sails were set with wonderful quickness the sweeps 
 were manned, and the little schooner rippling through the 
 water. Next morning we had distanced the stranger con- 
 siderably, and the pirate was in great hopes of escaping; 
 but the breeze freshened, and before noon the frigate, for 
 such she proved to be, had gained so much upon us, that 
 her shot began to tell upon us. I was now hurried below, 
 and a sentry was placed over me; the captain ordering him 
 to blow my brains out if I attempted to escape, and adding, 
 ' I'll settle his account by and by.' It was with impatience 
 almost amounting to agony that I listened to the strange 
 medley of sounds which reached my ear the creaking of 
 the sweeps, the curses and shouts of our crew cheering each 
 other at their work, the loud report of our guns, and the 
 more faint and distant sound of those of the frigate; and I 
 prayed for deliverance prayed that some lucky ball might 
 find its way into the cabin, and put an end to my suspense 
 and to my miseries at once. At last the sound of the sweeps 
 ceased. I heard the rattling of blocks and the sound of 
 running feet. I felt, by the motion of the vessel, that some 
 alteration was made in her course, and then I burst into 
 tears I heard a voice hailing the brig! I felt that the 
 hour of my deliverance was at hand, and I breathed a prayer 
 of silent thankfulness to Heaven. Again there was a move- 
 ment on deck, the brig laid over to the breeze, and a loud 
 shout burst from her crew, as they discharged the guns. 
 Merciful powers ! she had escaped; and my spirit sank 
 within me. But the avenger of blood was behind us, and 
 his voice spoke in the thunder of his guns. I heard a 
 crash upon deck, then the noise of something coming down 
 from aloft, followed by the muttered curses of my sentry, 
 as he exclaimed, 'The gaff is gone!' The report of tha
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YAKN. 83 
 
 frigate's guns now became louder and louder, and the little 
 brig absolutely staggered, when the grape-shot rattled 
 against her sides. Her crew, however, seemed to be fight- 
 ing with the desperation of madmen, for they maintained a 
 warm fire. At last all was silent on board; the firing 
 ceased, and not even a voice could be heard. Presently I 
 heard the dash of oars; then the grating of a boat against 
 the vessel's side; then loud and angry voices, and after- 
 wards all the sounds of a desperate conflict. I looked up 
 the companion my sentinel had deserted his post, to join 
 in the fray. I saw the boat's crew of the frigate engaged 
 in a deadly struggle with the pirates. I rushed over to 
 them, and had just joined them, calling for help, when the 
 pirate captain seized me by the shoulder, and raised his 
 tomahawk to cleave me to the deck. Weak as I was, I 
 must have fallen a victim to his fury, had not a gallant 
 sailor rushed between us, and inflicted a severe wound upon 
 his upraised arm. I saw my brave deliverer fall immedi- 
 ately afterwards by a pistol-shot; but he was well avenged; 
 for the next moment the pirate fell lifeless on his body. I 
 saw no more. I was carried, in a state of insensibility, on 
 board the frigate, and it was long before I recovered from 
 the effects of my severe discipline on board the pirate. As 
 soon as I' was sufficiently recovered, I wished to hasten 
 homewards immediately; but I was obliged to remain, to 
 give evidence against the crew of the piratical brig, all of 
 whom, with the exception of three or four, suffered the ex- 
 treme penalties of the law. And now, my dear father, my 
 tale is at an end, and grateful am I to the merciful Provi- 
 dence which has restored me to your arms." 
 
 "My dear, dear son! doubly endeared to me by the 
 dangers you have undergone on my account I am thank- 
 ful that my altered fortunes now enable me to gratify what 
 I know to be the dearest wish of your heart. Go to her, 
 John go to Miss Winterton she is worthy of you: no
 
 84 HALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 longer restrained by the clog of poverty, you may freely in- 
 dulge the feelings of your heart." 
 
 As the father and son were walking along the road, they 
 saw two men approaching them at some distance. 
 
 " Whom have we here?" said John Hamilton. 
 
 " One of them is old Willie Duncan, a cottar of mine; 
 and who the lame man is that is with him I know not. By 
 the by, I heard that his son was returned from sea; perhaps 
 that's the man." 
 
 Willie Duncan respectfully saluted his master, when he 
 approached, and said 
 
 " I was just bringing my son to " 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed John Hamilton, gazing ear- 
 nestly at the disabled man; " it cannot be yes, it is my 
 brave deliverer ! My gallant fellow," continued he, shak- 
 ing him heartily by the hand, " how rejoiced I am to see 
 you, and to have an opportunity to prove my gratitude to 
 you! I heard you were dead how did you escape?" 
 
 "Why, blow me, your honour, if you didn't take me 
 quite aback. I couldn't make you out at first you're twice 
 the man you were when I see'd you on the pirate's deck; 
 and I'd never no thoughts of falling in with you so near 
 home. I'm right glad, however, to see your honour once 
 more." 
 
 "Duncan," said Hamilton, senior, with a trembling voice, 
 " I owe you a debt I can never repay. You lost your limb 
 in saving the life of my son it shall be my endeavour to 
 make the loss to you as light as possible." 
 
 " And is the gentleman the son of my father's good mas- 
 ter? Then a fig for the leg! it couldn't have been lost in 
 a better cause. And, as for gratitude, sir, you owe me none; 
 his honour, here, would have done the same for me, if the 
 case had been reversed, like if he'd been the sailor, and 
 I'd been the gemman." 
 
 " Well, well, my good fellow no doubt we won't argue-
 
 TOM DUNCAN'S YARN. 85 
 
 on that point; only tell me how I can serve you, and I will 
 do so, to the best of ray ability." 
 
 " Why, your honour, I wants for nothing just now. I've 
 got a lot of prize-money, and my father's snug roadstead 
 to anchor in; but, if your honour likes to give me a few 
 ounces of baccy, I won't say but what I'll be obligated to 
 you." 
 
 41 A modest request, certainly," said Mr Hamilton, laugh- 
 ing; " but we must give you something better than tobacco, 
 and as much of that as you like into the bargain. Come, 
 "William, as your son won't speak, you must do so for him. 
 Tell me how I can best serve him." 
 
 A whispering consultation here took place between father 
 and son, which was put a stop to by the latter addressing 
 Mr Hamilton in a sheepish, confused manner, twirling his 
 hat in his hands at the same time, and feeling the rim all 
 around, as if to ascertain that it was all there. 
 
 " Why, your honour, as your honour's so kind Blow'd 
 
 if I can speak about it, father ! You see, your honour, I'm 
 a first-rate hand at a yarn on a Saturday night; but, some- 
 how, my jawing-tacks gets all bedevilled when I begins to 
 speak about she." 
 
 "And who's she?" said Mr Hamilton, laughing " some 
 old sweetheart that has been waiting for you 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, it's bonny Jean Cameron that was when I went 
 away. She's a widow now, your honour, and, as I wants to 
 be spliced, and she's no objection, why, if it's not making too 
 told, if your honour would let us have one of your empty 
 cottages, we'd join company at once, and sail together for 
 the rest of our cruise." 
 
 We need hardly say that the sailor's request was cheer- 
 fully granted; and in a few weeks he and his wife were 
 happily settled in a neat cottage, comfortably and substan- 
 tially furnished by Mr Hamilton, who likewise settled upon 
 him an annuity, sufficient to keep him from want, but not
 
 S6 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 so lar<,e as to encourage habits of idleness or dissipation. 
 John Hamilton was equally successful in his suit; and his 
 union with Ellen Winterton proved that those who have 
 been tried by adversity are best qualified to enjoy pro- 
 sperity.
 
 THE THREE BRETHREN. 87 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S TALES. 
 
 THE THREE BRETHREN. 
 
 " Together such as brethren are, 
 In unity to dwell." 
 
 THE unity of the three brethren about whom I am going to 
 speak is complete: some are united in heart and soul, but 
 these are united in body and frame: closer than the Siamese 
 twins did their union abide, till, in an evil hour, the winds 
 smote them, and they were no more " Sed stat nominis 
 umbra." They have left behind them a name and a record 
 which will not soon perish. They might have said had speak- 
 ing been at all their forte with Horace, "Non omnismoriar" 
 They shall live in the recollection of the present, and in the 
 records of future times at least it will not be from want of 
 will, if the pages of the " Tales of the Borders " do not trans- 
 mit their memorial to late posterity. The three brethren ! 
 you exclaim, quite naturally enough. What! were they 
 brothers by blood or by marriage brothers in profession 
 or, like Simeon and Levi, in iniquity ? We should like to 
 see the mist cleared away, and the subject made tangible. 
 Well, listen ! 
 
 The three brethren were three trees, or rather divisions of 
 one tree as like each other as one pea is to another which 
 once stood in the middle of the high road from Glasgow to 
 Dumfries, upon the banks of the Mth. People had it that 
 their similarity was so great that it reached the details of 
 their branches, and even leaves, and that they were in every 
 even in the minutest respect copies or fac-similes of each 
 other. Nobody living and far less any one dead can tell 
 their age. They saw Oliver Cromwell and his saintly crew
 
 88 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 march into Scotland; and beheld, in later times, the High- 
 land host, in the year '45, pass along. They might have 
 given an old chronicle of ancient times and manners, had it 
 not been that they probably did not outlive the age of Me- 
 thuselah. But 
 
 " Improvisa vis letlii rapuit 
 Rapietque gentes." 
 
 Destruction came in the shape of a nor'wester, and they are 
 now in the act of being converted into snuff-boxes, writing- 
 desks, and dressing-cases, for their old and attached acquaint- 
 ances and friends; every one seems more anxious than another 
 to obtain a relic of the immortal triumvirate and they are 
 more likely to be remembered with pleasurable feelings than 
 even were the Triumvirates of ancient Rome. But now that 
 they have bowed their heads, and given up their roots, it is 
 proper that some effort should be made to perpetuate their 
 memory; and who so fit as an old Closeburn man to execute 
 this bold but praiseworthy task? 
 
 The explanation, however, requires a glance at the race of 
 gipsies, one of whom thus characterises the race: 
 
 " My bonny lass, I work in brass 
 
 A tinkler is my station 
 I've travell'd round all Christian ground 
 
 In this my occupation. 
 I've ta'en the gold I've been enroll'd 
 
 In many a noble squadron 
 In vain they search'd, when off I march'd, 
 
 To go and clout the caldron." 
 
 The gipsies have now disappeared entirely from the north 
 of Scotland; even in Fife, the former residence of the gipsy 
 clan Jamphrey, no such variety of the species is to be found. 
 Their chief residence, as we have had occasion to say before, 
 is now on the Borders, where, in the village of Yetholm, 
 and in Langtown, they still maintain a separate clanship. 
 They still are, and have always been, extremely jealous of
 
 THE THREE BKETHEEN. 89 
 
 the marriage of any of their daughters, in particular, out of 
 the tribe. Hence the fact, that almost every third person 
 amongst them labours under some mental peculiarity or 
 defect. Their male youths enjoy greater latitude; yet, on 
 their alliance with the Philistine fair, they are usually 
 looked down upon, and regarded as a kind of amphibious 
 race, who, like the " Proselytes of the Gate " amongst the 
 Jews, were not admitted into equal communion. Their 
 children are brought up (at least were so, till of late) in the 
 most religious contempt of the alphabet. Nor are any 
 moral principles inculcated, beyond successful thieving 
 that is, downright knavery and dexterity of execution as 
 workmen, whether it be in forming a ram's horn into a 
 cutty spoon, or in appropriating the fattest hens from the 
 farmer's bauks. Their women, too, are expert fortune- 
 tellers, and have husbands ready-made for sixpence. They 
 are a fearful, fearless race, wandering about, in former 
 times, almost during the whole year, and pitching their tents 
 in other words, setting their asses to graze, and them- 
 selves to forage wherever solitude or the tolerance of the 
 laird or farmer will permit their presence. When Scotland 
 in general, and Dumfries-shire in particular, from Criffell 
 to Corsincon, were densely covered with natural wood, these 
 people divided the woodland with the fox, the boar, and 
 the wolf, and were extremely expert in noosing hares, rab- 
 bits, and polecats. Theirs was the bow, and ultimately the 
 long-barrelled gun, for securing the fowls of heaven; and 
 the set line, Hester, and fishing-rod for the tenants of the 
 water. 
 
 As was the case with the Eoman of old "Patres ad 
 insignem deformit atem puerum cito necaverunt;" in other 
 words, and in a different tongue, they put their diseased 
 and deformed offspring to death; and more than one-half 
 of those which were permitted to survive were killed in a 
 year or two by harsh usage, cold, and imperfect clothing.
 
 90 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Thus their youth which did survive these manifold trials- 
 and risks rose up into man and womanhood, proud, hardy, 
 strong, well-seasoned plants, exhibiting much muscular 
 power and symmetry in the male, and occasionally uncom- 
 mon beauty and figure in the female form. 
 
 The "wild gazelle exulting" and bounding on the hills of 
 Judah was not more elastic in its motion, nor penetrating 
 and fascinating in its glance, than were many of the fairer 
 wives and daughters of these hordes of part mendicant, 
 part predatory, and part artist wanderers. Their chief re- 
 sorts, in ancient tunes, were to the banks of the Hermitage 
 and Slitterick, near Hawick; to the banks of the Dee, near 
 Kirkcudbright; and, above and beyond all, to the woods of 
 Colliston, and the linns of Balachun, on the Kith, in Dum- 
 fries-shire; and it is to this last locality that the following 
 narrative particularly refers. 
 
 It was about the middle of the month of October that a 
 packman, or pedlar, with an enormous chest laid transverse- 
 on his shoulders, was seen wending his way up the banks 
 of the Nith, from Manchester to Glasgow. He had hoped 
 to have reached Thornhill, then an exceedingly small vil- 
 lage, before dusk; but this being his first migration in this 
 direction, he found himself so surrounded and obstructed 
 by the river Nith on the one hand, the linns of Balachun 
 on the other, and an almost impenetrable wood in front, 
 that night came upon him, dark and moonless, whilst still 
 pushing his way through brambles, thorns, and every species 
 of tangling and perplexing underwood. At last, despairing 
 of extricating himself, and terrified, at the same time, by 
 the roaring of waters, howling of wild beasts, and hooting 
 of owls, he extricated his shoulders from the pack-bands, 
 and, selecting as dry and soft an apartment as circumstances 
 permitted, he set himself down on the grassy turf, with a 
 birch branch for his canopy, and the old stump of a tree for 
 his lean. In a little time he was alarmed by the cries of
 
 THE THREE BRETHREN. 91 
 
 what appeared to be a child in the act of being cruelly mur- 
 dered. Mungo Clark (for such was the packman's name) 
 rose, and, advancing a few steps in the direction of the now 
 faintly-emitted sounds, found a hare in the act of expiring 
 of strangulation by means of a noose, or girn, formed of 
 strong wire, and placed so as to intercept a little footpath 
 made by the feet of the wild animals of the forest. Mungo 
 was in the act of disengaging the dead creature from its- 
 executioner, the noose, when he heard the rustling as if of 
 a lion on the spring, very near him, and all at once he found 
 himself in the iron gripe of a customer with whom he had 
 no wish, on this occasion at least, to deal. 
 
 " And wha are ye," were the sounds which, in a hollow 
 and harsh tone, first greeted his ears "and wha are ye, 
 man, wha hae made yer bed this dark night wi' the howlets- 
 and the wull-cats ye wha meddle wi' what naething con- 
 cerns ye, and burn yer fingers in ither folk's kail-pats? 
 Speak, man, and dinna keep me blethering here, for I hae 
 got ither fish to fry, I trow, than standing here palavering 
 wi' sic as you come, speak, body, or I'll send ye, pack an' 
 a', sixty yards lower into the bumbling pool o' Balachun 
 Linn." 
 
 Mungo Clark was neither soldier- nor belted knight, nor 
 was he armed for any deadly conflict; but he was not ac- 
 customed to submit without resentment to such rough 
 usage. 
 
 "Unhand rne, rascal!" was the packman's reply; and 
 making, at the same time, a lateral jerk, he twisted him- 
 self fairly out of the assailant's grasp. 
 
 A whistle was immediately set up, and in an instant our 
 traveller was surrounded by four strong, ablebodied men, 
 who immediately flashed the light side of a dark lantern full 
 in his face. 
 
 "Oh ho!" said one of the newly-assembled assailants; 
 "this is neither the deil, nor the factor, nor the wood-keeper,
 
 92 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 nor the old boy, Collision liimsel, but just plain Mungo 
 Clark, Widow Clark o' Penpont's son, who has been at 
 Manchester feathering his pack, for the first time, wi' all 
 manner o' varieties; such as Bibles, psalm-books, ribands, 
 shawls, and waistcoat-pieces. Why, by the flesh-pots o' 
 Yetholm and that's a terrible oath we'll adopt Brother 
 Clark into our number, and teach him how to snare game, 
 and spear salmon, instead of drivelling away his time and 
 strength under the pressure of a load" (trying to raise the 
 pack) "which would break the back-bone of an elephant." 
 
 The matter appeared to Mungo to be settled without any 
 consent of his, asked or obtained; so, knowing somewhat of 
 the character and habits of this wandering and peculiar race, 
 he was compelled to make a virtue of necessity, and, raising 
 his pack again on his shoulders, to descend with them into 
 the very lowest depths of the linns of Balachun. Even at 
 noonday, on the 23d of June, the Pass, as it is called, is 
 dreary, dark, and dreadful; but now, under the cover of 
 night, and with no other guidance than a small lantern, 
 which scarcely made darkness visible, Mungo hesitated ere 
 he would commit himself to the crossing of a fearful gully, 
 and the walking along the face of a rock, or scaur, scarcely 
 eight inches wide, and overhanging a fearful pool, well known 
 by the terrible appellation of " Hell's Caldron." The party 
 at last arrived at a small grassy plot, encircled on the one 
 side by the roaring stream called Clauchry Burn, and on the 
 other by an amphitheatre of steep, high, and overhanging 
 rocks, fringed and darkened in with brushwood and furze, 
 and guarded, at the upper and lower extremities, by the 
 rocks, which, after receding a little to make room for this 
 grassy retreat, closed in again upon the current, and pre- 
 vented all easy entrance or escape. Soon after Mungo's ar- 
 rival, he discovered a large kettle, boiling and bubbling, in 
 a crevice of the cliff, suspended from a transverse beam; 
 and beheld around it, now that a parcel of sticks and dry
 
 THE THEEE BKETHEEN. 93 
 
 leaves were kindled, a most picturesque and motley group 
 women, children, men, boys, and lasses, of all hues, as- 
 pects, and sizes, were scattered about in profusion; and, as 
 the flame flashed back from the red sandstone of the linn, 
 their faces glared on Mungo with a demoniac expression. 
 It seemed the very picture of Pandemonium; and yet the 
 hearty laugh, the bold oath, and the occasional inquiry, be- 
 spoke the inhabitants to be at least one remove from devils. 
 Mungo was desired to rest him and his load on the apron of the 
 rock, and compelled, without a nay-say, to unstrap his pack, 
 and expose his goods, not (seemingly) for sale, but for plunder. 
 This was not the way, assuredly, to turn the penny to advan- 
 tage, but whatcan onesay, "durumtelum necessitas? " there 
 was no avoiding the spoliation. To be sure, the king, or leader 
 of the gipsy tribe amounting probably to not less than 
 forty or fifty persons hinted in his ear that he should not 
 be a loser at last; but, in the meantime, to his no small mor- 
 tification, he saw his shawls, napkins, stockings, and waist- 
 coat-pieces, making the round of the company without cere- 
 mony, and forgetting, like the dove from the ark, to retura 
 whence they had fled. The pack having been thus ransacked, 
 and the pot having given audible intimation for some time 
 of its preparatory doings, the king for such he was the 
 notorious Donald Faa, with his three sons, Duncan, Cuth- 
 bert, and Donnert Davie, together with the king's fair daugh- 
 ter, Helen Yetholm Faa, squatted down on the grass, and 
 without the help of forks, made a hearty meal on hares, 
 chickens, turkeys, geese, and half-a-dozen brace of partridges, 
 which might have rejoiced the heart even of a Dominie 
 Sampson. The other members of the community seemed to 
 acknowledge the deputed authority of a young man of good 
 features, and an athletic and genteel appearance, who went 
 by the name of the Squire. After eating had had its fair 
 share of devoted and unremitted attention, a barrel, of con- 
 siderable dimensions, began to make its way downward from
 
 D4 TALES OP THE EOKDEKS. 
 
 amidst the recesses of this water-worn and excavated rock; 
 and a tub being hurled sideways into the service, boiling 
 water was procured, and sugar in no ordinary quantity com- 
 mingled; and, by the help of a ladle and several chopin de- 
 canters, the whole mass of Egyptian humanity was stirred 
 up into song, laugh, scream, inebriety, quarrel, battle, stupor, 
 and insensibility. Our friend Mungo had no obj ections what- 
 ever to the feast, or to the means by which it was prolonged. 
 He was afterwards notorious for his drinking habits, inso- 
 much that his observation on this occasion is still repeated 
 in the neighbourhood of the place of his nativity. When ques- 
 tioned by the king respecting the size of his native village, 
 Penpont, his reply was " It is an exceeding great city." 
 This being questioned, his proof was equally ingenious, 
 and descriptive of his habits " Why, Nineveh took Jonah 
 three days to travel through it, whereas Penpont generally 
 takes me seven." He referred manifestly to his habit of 
 stopping and drinking at every petty inn and public-house 
 in the village! The jest told exceedingly in his favour. 
 Mungo, however, in spite of his losses and crosses, had a 
 noble night of it, as he afterwards said, with the gipsies, 
 and awakened next morning from his grassy couch to cool 
 his aching temples in the stream, and restore his stomach 
 by a hair of the dog that had bit him. He then observed 
 that the two sons, Duncan and Cuthbert, but not Davie 
 (yclept. Donnert, from his peculiarity of mental constitution), 
 were absent, and that their father not only exhibited no 
 surprise respecting his sons' absence, but refused to give 
 any account to his guest of the cause of it. Meanwhile, 
 Mungo had an opportunity of marking the appearances of 
 the various objects around him somewhat more distinctly 
 than he had been able to do on the preceding evening. 
 Blankets, supported by forked poles, old clothes and rags 
 of every description, formed a kind of nightly shelter for 
 the common herdj whilst the royal head reposed in the
 
 THE THKEE BKETHEEST. 93 
 
 midst of his male progeny, on the lap of a projecting rock, 
 with a few hare-skins for his pillow, and a corn-sack for his 
 coverlet. His fair daughter's bedchamber was somewhat 
 more removed beyond a projecting corner of the winding 
 linn, and she was protected from observation by the 
 branches of the overhanging trees being drawn closely down 
 over her, and by what had once, in all probability, been a 
 soldier's tent, but which was now miserably rent, and un- 
 weather-worthy. It was manifest that this child was the 
 darling and care of a fond father; for she was not only pro- 
 vided in a superior manner, but, by the position of his own 
 : sleeping apartment, she was protected from all intercourse 
 with the other members of the tribe. Honest nature ! thou 
 art too many, even for a gipsy life; and even here parental 
 .affection hallowed and refined what was unseemly and re- 
 volting. I say revolting; for, in an obscure corner, and under 
 the shelter of a hazel-bush, lay a figure, emaciated with disease, 
 and probably with dissipation and crime, groaning in agony, 
 and regarded with no more sympathy by the great mass of the 
 tribe than if he had been a strangled hare or a mangled 
 horse. There was something indeed terrible in this sight. 
 'True, Helen Faa did all that she was permitted, but that 
 was but little, to alleviate his sufferings; but death was in 
 his eye and in his throat he made one great effort to rise, 
 grasped a branch convulsively, and ceased to live. Mungo 
 would willingly have retired, even with the losses he had 
 sustained, but he was not permitted probably because old 
 .Donald conjectured that information would be immediately 
 lodged against him, and he would be compelled to relin- 
 quish one of his strongest holds in the south of Scotland. 
 Meantime, Mungo had an opportunity of beholding more 
 closely the female portion of this society; and was exceed- 
 ingly struck for he was yet a young man and unmarried 
 with the really handsome faces and well-formed persons 
 which characterised the whole; but far and away above all
 
 96 TALES OF THE BOSDEES. 
 
 the rest slione Miss Helen Yetholm Faa for thus was she 
 designated by the clan in the pride of health, youth, and 
 black, or rather brown, eyes those weapons of female onset 
 which are sharper than a two-edged sword, as Mungo used 
 to sing or say afterwards, in a song which he composed on 
 the occasion: 
 
 " They were jet, jet "black, and like a hawk, 
 And wadna let a body be." 
 
 All this seemed to be fully appreciated by the Squire, who 
 evidently paid the young princess particular attention, and 
 seemed, at the same time, sufficiently jealous of any foreign 
 interference with the object of his attention. Donnert 
 Davie was a stout, ill-made, squint-eyed being, who stam- 
 mered in his speech, and seemed particularly useful in 
 carrying on the culinary operations, under the direction of 
 Helen, in the retreat. '' He felled wood for the fire, carried 
 water to the kettle, heated cow and sheep horns in the 
 flame; brought round about and close to the operator old 
 pots, pans, and trenchers, which had been obtained to be 
 clouted, clasped, and mended. He was, in short, a kind of 
 gipsy factotum; and when "the house affairs did not call 
 him thence," he would associate with the stranger, stam- 
 mering out such incoherent inquiries as " Whare been? 
 What do 1 What do ? Mother dead 1 Mother dead ? Yes. 
 yes yes true true true" muttering to himself, and 
 repeating the same monosyllable half-a-dozen times. His 
 sister Helen was manifestly kind to him, and would not 
 permit any of the company to insult or ill-use him. 
 
 Night arrived, but with it not Duncan .or Cuthbert; and 
 it was not till late on the following evening that they made 
 their appearance, and with them came silver and gold in 
 abundance: consequently Mungo Clark's claims were satis- 
 fied; and he was informed that, next morning, as they were 
 all about to decamp, he might pursue his journey home- 
 wards; but about the following dawn, an authoritative voice
 
 THE MISTAKE RECTIFIED. 97 
 
 from the top of the precipice summoned the whole party to 
 a surrender. One figure stood prominently forward, look- 
 ing over the rock; and Donnert Davie, whose blunderbuss 
 always lay charged beside him, immediately fired, and the 
 figure came tumbling down headlong, and sunk in the yawn- 
 ing abyss of boiling water. In a word, the whole party, 
 after a most determined resistance, were taken prisoners by 
 a military party obtained from Dumfries; and it being 
 proved against Duncan and Donald Faa that they had 
 stolen some cattle from Dalswinton Mains, and sold them 
 on the sands of Dumfries as also against Donnert Davie, 
 that he had shot the serjeant who commanded on the oc- 
 casion the whole three brothers were tried, condemned, 
 and sentenced to be executed, in terrorem, near the spot 
 where their depredations had been committed. As there 
 were three persons to execute, and the famous tree already 
 referred to had three branches, they appeared to the sheriff 
 to be destined for each other; and accordingly all the three 
 were hung at the same time on the same tree, which has 
 ever since retained the appellation of "The Three Brethren." 
 Old Donald, his fair daughter, Mungo Clark, Squire Cock- 
 burn, and the rest, were set at liberty; but the gipsies were 
 conveyed by a military escort across the Borders; and I 
 have been given to understand that the Squire, who was 
 the young laird of Glenae, after considerable opposition 
 from the old father, was married to fair Helen Yetholm 
 Faa; and that he was the happy husband of the fair dame 
 who used afterwards to go about the country in disguise, 
 attending in gipsy garb at weddings, kirns, and merry-meet- 
 ings, and giving origin to the well-known reel "Auld 
 Glenae." 
 
 THE MISTAKE RECTIFIED. 
 
 " Now," said the traveller, as he wandered up one of those 
 retired Highland glens, which characterise and beautify tho 
 VOL. ix.
 
 98 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Grampian range, " I shall once more visit my dear father 
 and mother; and my sister, now woman grown; and, what 
 is more, my sweet Helen M'Donald, who used to gather the 
 mountain berries along with me, and pursue the little kids 
 and lambs. Ah, Helen was only about thirteen years old 
 when I left; she will now be eighteen; a full-grown beauti- 
 ful woman, I have no doubt. I wonder if old Andrew, her 
 grandfather, be still living; he used to tell me such tales 
 of Prince Charlie, and Prestonpans, and Culloden, that my 
 hair yet almost stands erect at the recollection of them. 
 And then there was Euphemia M'Gregor, his son's wife, the 
 mother of my dear Helen; and Oscar and Fingal, my fa- 
 ther's faithful attendants and servants: and we had such 
 fun during the long winter nights, when the sheep were in 
 a place of safety, and the door was barred, and the peat-fire 
 was burning clear, and the very cat and kitten enjoyed the 
 cheery fireside such questions and commands, such guess- 
 ing and forfeiting, and riding round the fire on a besom, 
 and holding one's mouth full of water to discharge on the 
 person's face who should first laugh at our grotesque ges- 
 tures and looks: but night is approaching whilst I linger by 
 the way my whole heart heaves to behold once more the 
 sweet home of my youth and innocence." 
 Thus said, or thought aloud, a young man, seemingly 
 
 about twenty-two years of age, as he ascended Glen 
 
 and approached the thatched shieling which stood on the 
 margin of a small mountain stream, which wended its 
 mazes along the tortuous glen. He had been five years, 
 come the time, absent from his mountain home, and had, 
 during that period, endured and encountered a variety of 
 fortune. He sung as he went along 
 
 "A light heart and thin pair of breeches, 
 Goes through the world, brave boys ! " 
 
 switching the bent and heather -bells with his cane, and 
 treading with a step as elastic as was his bosom. At last,
 
 THE MISTAKE RECTIFIED. 99 
 
 just as the sun was tinging with his departing ray the top 
 of the highest mountain in the neighbourhood, he turned 
 the corner of a projecting rock, and came at once into full 
 and distinct view of his home. It was then grey twilight, 
 and objects began to assume an indistinct appearance. 
 Walking by the side of the stream, as if meditating, there 
 appeared a figure wrapped up in a Highland plaid. It im- 
 mediately struck the young sailor that this was his sister; 
 and in order to give her what is called an agreeable surprise, 
 he stepped aside unperceived by her, and stood concealed 
 behind a projecting cliff, which the stream had stripped 
 bare of soil in its passing current. The figure came nearer 
 and nearer, and then, sighing deeply, uttered some sound, 
 which his ear could not catch. At last, tears and sobs fol- 
 lowed, and he heard the words most distinctly pronounced 
 "Alas, I can never truly love him! I shall be the most 
 wretched of women ! But he whom I loved as angels love 
 oh, he, my own dear William M'Pherson, is dead and 
 gone, and I can never see him more." 
 
 " But you can though, my own dear Helen;" and in an 
 instant he held her lifeless and motionless in his arms. 
 She had uttered just one awful scream, which was re-echoed 
 by the surrounding cliffs, and had ceased to feel or know 
 anything connected with the living world. Alas ! she was 
 dead, and he was distracted. He ran to the house, calling 
 aloud for help; but every one of its inmates, even the mo- 
 ther who bore him, fled from his presence, uttering ejacula- 
 tions, intimating the greatest terror at his presence. In 
 vain did he protest with tears I am your son and no other 
 I am Willie M'Pherson, your lost boy ! His words bore no 
 conviction along with him. Avaunt, foul fiend ! Avaunt, 
 in the name of God and the Holy Trinity trouble me not 
 trouble me not; my dear child is in heaven; and thou, 
 foul spirit, art permitted for a time to assume his shape. 
 His sister, too, was equally incredulous, and his father had
 
 100 .TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 not yet returned from the hill. What was to be done? 
 Helen M 'Donald was in all probability dead, or dying, help- 
 less and alone, and yet no one would come to her assistance. 
 At last, Oscar and Fingal made their appearance in advance 
 of his father; and though they barked at first upon his nam- 
 ing them, they immediately ran up to him, and jumped 
 upon his back, his neck, his head, his whole person. They 
 seemed in as much danger of expressing joy as poor Helen 
 had been of dying of fearful surprise. 
 
 " Stand back," said the delighted and believing father to 
 his wife, who absolutely clung to his knees to prevent his 
 advance "stand back, woman; d'ye think Fingal and 
 Oscar would caress the foul fiend in that manner? Na 
 na na. Ha ! ha ! ha !" And he fell upon his son's shoul- 
 ders, weeping and crying convulsively. 
 
 " My father my dear, dear father." 
 
 " My son my lost, my only, my restored eon," was the 
 response. 
 
 But Helen, in an instant, brought the whole party, con- 
 sisting of father, mother, sister, and son, to her aid: a light 
 was procured and held over her face; her bosom was bared, 
 and rubbed; her forehead had water plentifully poured 
 upon it from the stream; and, at last, symptoms of re- 
 turning life appeared. Oscar and Fingal, in the meantime, 
 had licked Helen's face, and neck, and shoulders, all 
 over; and whether from any virtue in the peculiar touch of 
 their tongues, or from the natural expiry of the trance, 
 Helen breathed heavily her bosom heaved; William looked 
 on her cheeks, and they were flushed with red. In a 
 moment he had her in his arms. Helen, for some time, 
 Buffered exquisite bodily torture; but was at last capable 
 of having the truth made gradually known to her. She 
 said surely she had been dreaming, as she had often done, 
 and that she was still surely asleep, and that she would 
 waken at last, as she had done before, to a dreadful percep-
 
 THE MISTAKE RECTIFIED. 101 
 
 tion of the reality. William MTherson still continued to 
 clasp and assure Helen of his personal identity. But, even 
 when convinced of the reality of William's presence, Helen 
 did not evince that degree of happiness which might have 
 been expected; she sat stupified and passive, and seemingly 
 insensible to everything around her; her mind was evidently 
 wandering to a disagreeable subject. However, she was 
 prevailed upon to return with the family into the house, 
 and, worn out and fatigued, she was soon after put to rest 
 in an adjoining apartment. 
 
 In the meantime, the young sailor was questioned mi- 
 nutely respecting the reason of his reappearance, after he 
 had been so long reported, and believed by everybody, to 
 be dead. 
 
 Without repeating his answer in his own words, which 
 were interlarded with sea phrases, we may state, in general, 
 that it was to the following purpose: He had gone to 
 Dundee, with the view of making some small purchases for 
 the household, when he accidentally fell in with a recruit- 
 ing party, who were beating up for marines for the fleet, 
 then just returned from the capture of the Danish fleet at 
 Copenhagen. Inexperienced as he was, he was enticed 
 into a public-house on the shore, and awakened, after a 
 stupor of some hours, on board a British man-of-war. In 
 a few hours, he was conveyed out to sea, along with several 
 others, and was conveyed immediately to Spithead. Hav- 
 ing it ultimately put to his choice whether he would stand 
 by a gun, or handle a musket and a sabre, he chose the 
 former, and was regularly entered as an ablebodied seaman 
 on board His Majesty's ship the Victory. In her, along 
 with Admiral Nelson, he sailed for the West Indies, and 
 then crossed the Atlantic, back to the shores of Franca. 
 The enemy still eluding the eagle-eye of Lord Nelson, he 
 sailed for the Mediterranean, and, after various landings 
 and inquiries, came upon the French fleet, moored closely
 
 102 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 inland on the coast of Egypt, at the mouth of the Nile. 
 He was in the dreadful battle of the Nile, and assisted in 
 rescuing several who were blown up, but not killed, in the 
 L'Orient. After the battle, he had promotion, and ulti- 
 mately prize-money, on account of his brave and humane 
 conduct, and sailed again for Naples, and latterly in quest 
 of the Spanish fleet on the coast of Spain. He was close 
 by Nelson when he was shot by a rifleman from the mast 
 of the ship with which he had grappled, and saw the fellow 
 who did the deed drop on the deck, being shot through the 
 heart by a marine on board of Lord Nelson's ship. After 
 the battle, he was returned to Plymouth, having been 
 wounded in the leg a musket-ball had passed through the 
 flesh, and somewhat, but not greatly, injured the bone. He 
 spent some months in the hospital, and was then despatched 
 to the coast of France on board the Spitfire. There he had 
 distinguished himself in cutting out and burning several 
 of the enemy's craft at Havre; and being again wounded,, 
 though slightly, in the arm, he was put upon the pension 
 list, and allowed to dispose of himself till his country should 
 again require his services. In these circumstances, he began 
 to think of his home; and, with some hundreds of pounds 
 in the bank, and a pension order of about two shillings and 
 sixpence a-day in his pocket, he arrived at Dundee in a 
 sailing vessel, and was on his way to his native glen when 
 the reader first became acquainted with him. When this 
 narrative was finished, his father retired for an instant, and 
 then appeared with some papers, which he had extracted 
 from his private depositories. He first read a letter which 
 purported to come from a king's officer, who signed himself 
 William Wilson, and who informed his afflicted father that 
 hia son had been induced to go on board a king's ship, to 
 see the arrangements which it exhibited; but that, in pass- 
 ing from the small boat to the deck, he had missed a foot, 
 and been drowned. The letter was dated on board the
 
 THE MISTAKE KECTIFIED. 103 
 
 spitfire ; and mentioned, likewise, that the ship was under 
 sailing orders for the general rendezvous at Spithead. The 
 poor distracted parent had come to Dundee, but could ob- 
 tain no information of his son only, about three months 
 after, he heard that a dead body, severely mutilated, had been 
 thrown out upon the sands of St Andrews; and, on account of 
 the state of its decomposition, had immediately been interred 
 in Christian burial-ground. A second pilgrimage to St An- 
 drews was undertaken by the father and daughter; but 
 nothing satisfactory was discovered, except that the corpse 
 exhibited marks of having been dressed in a blue-and-white 
 striped waistcoat, which answered to that in which he had 
 left Denhead, his home in the Highlands. After this last 
 discovery, all further inquiry ceased, and the afflicted family 
 fulfilled the period of their sincere mourning, and things re- 
 turned nearly to their usual bearing. But, when father, and 
 mother, and sister had seemingly got over the worst of their 
 grief, Helen M'Donald still pined in silence over the recol- 
 lections of her early companion; and as she expanded into 
 womanhood, her grief seemed to grow " with her growth; " 
 and her father became extremely anxious to have Helen 
 properly and creditably disposed of in marriage. 
 
 The son of a small proprietor in the neighbourhood had 
 lately become laird himself; and, though far exceeding 
 Helen in years, having had frequent opportunities of see- 
 ing her, particularly at church on Sabbath, he had become 
 enamoured of so much beauty and innocence. Proposals 
 had been made to the father, which were immediately ac- 
 cepted; and the young lady had been dealt with, as young 
 ladies in such situations generally are, by arguments of in- 
 terest, and worldly comfort, and even grandeur. First im- 
 pressions are deep (oh, how deep!); and Helen could not 
 yet entirely exclude the image of her beloved William from 
 her recollection. Laird M'Wharry was urgent in his suit 
 her father, whom she affectionately loved, was troubled
 
 104 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 and anxious her mother, too, pressed home upon her at- 
 tention prudential considerations so, after long delays and 
 many internal struggles, Helen at last consented to become, 
 but not till some months afterwards, Mrs or Lady M'Wharry, 
 as the peasantry styled the laird's wife. It was during her 
 visit (previous to her marriage) to M'Wharry that the in- 
 cident took place which thus connects our narrative, and 
 brings us up to the point of time when William M'Pherson 
 arrived at Denhead. 
 
 William, learning from Helen, as well as from his father 
 and mother, how matters were situated, suddenly disap- 
 peared, and left no means of tracing the place of his retreat 
 Days, and even weeks, passed, but no letter arrived, and 
 no message came. In the meantime, the day appointed for 
 the marriage approached, and Helen seemed to have made 
 up her mind to submit to necessity; at least she tried to 
 look cheerful, and put as good a face upon it as many tears, 
 shed in private, would permit. 
 
 Laird M'Wharry was a true Highlander he had much 
 of that clannish feeling which is peculiar to the Celt. He 
 was, besides, exceedingly passionate, and had more than 
 once got into trouble from having used hasty and unguarded 
 expressions. Nay, he had once been prosecuted in the 
 Court of Session, and damages had been obtained to a con- 
 siderable amount, by one of his servants, or rather slaves, 
 whom he had beat most unmercifully. In attending a 
 Perth market, he had occasion to ride homewards, after 
 dark, with a brother proprietor, who had lately bought an 
 estate in his neighbourhood. This proprietor could not 
 boast a Celtic name or origin. He was plain Mr Monni- 
 penny, from the town of Kirkcaldy, in Fife. They had 
 both been drinking during the course of the day, and were, 
 therefore, more liable to get into some dispute or quarreL 
 M'Wharry began by deprecating Mr Monnipenny's horse, 
 whose character the master supported with some warmth; so,
 
 THE MISTAKE RECTIFIED. 105 
 
 to settle the matter, they both set off at the gallop, and the 
 fire flashed from the horses' heels as they passed through 
 Dunkeld. Unfortunately for Laird M'Wharry, however, 
 about a mile beyond the above town, the saddle-girth gave 
 way, and he came to the ground head foremost. He was 
 dead when Mr Monnipenny came up with him. He had 
 suffered a concussion of the brain; and, notwithstanding 
 that medical aid was immediately obtained from Dunkeld, 
 nothing could be done. 
 
 Poor Helen MTherson really mourned his fate; for, 
 though she had no love for him, she had brought herself to 
 think that it was her duty to fulfil her promise. But where 
 was he whom her young heart held in its core ? No one 
 knew no one could telL Helen had inwardly resolved to 
 live single on his account, even if no further accounts were 
 received of William MTherson. But her father in the 
 meantime died of a fever; and her mother was compelled 
 to remove from the farm to the village of Dunkeld, where, 
 in order to support herself and her lovely daughter, she set 
 up a little shop with a small sum which her husband and 
 she had saved, and was highly respected by all who knew 
 her. In the meantime, the parish schoolmaster, an excise 
 officer, and a wealthy sheep-farmer, all solicited Helen's 
 hand; but she lent a deaf ear to all these offers, still think- 
 ing, and speaking, and dreaming about her William. 
 
 One day, when she was standing at the shop-door, she 
 observed a crowd gathered about a horse and gig, out of 
 which a person had just been thrown, and was taken up as 
 was feared lifeless. Helen, from motives of humanity, 
 rushed into the crowd to make inquiries, and saw the per- 
 son carried into an adjoining apothecary's shop; there he 
 was immediately bled, and, to the infinite satisfaction of 
 all, had begun to recover. The fact turned out to be, that 
 he had been stunned by the fall on his head, but no con- 
 cussion or fracture had taken place. The gentleman, she
 
 JOG TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 learned, had been put to bed, but was mighty unruly, as he 
 insisted upon pursuing his journey that very evening into 
 the Highlands; and a post-chaise, with two horses and a 
 steady driver, had been brought to the apothecary's door, 
 and the traveller was passing into it, with his head and arm 
 tied up, when all at once Helen uttered a scream, and stood 
 trembling betwixt him and the conveyance. It was her 
 own William, returned from sea to which he had again 
 fled and making all despatch to reach Denhead, as he had 
 learned, on his way towards the Highlands, the fate that 
 had overtaken the bridegroom, Laird M'Wharry. Now, 
 reader, you and I part I can do no more for you; for, if 
 you cannot far better conceive than I can describe what 
 followed, you can be no reader of mine you will never have 
 perused the story at all "William was now comfortably 
 circumstanced, pensioned, and dismissed the service; and 
 the last time I had a week's fishing at Amalrie, I spent my 
 evenings and nights under his roof. He is now, like my- 
 self, a grandfather; and Helen, though not quite so young 
 as she was some thirty or forty years ago, is still in my 
 mind a perfect beauty, and has blessed her husband, during 
 a pretty long life, with all that kind husbands can expect 
 or obtain by marriage. She has made him a happy father, 
 and a fond, foolish, indulgent grandpapa. 
 
 DURA DEN; OR, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST. 
 
 I took my way, a few days ago, fishing-rod in hand, from 
 Cupar in Fife, by Dura Den, up towards the healthy and 
 sequestered village of Ceres. Dura Den was once romantic 
 and secluded. Its brawling stream, which empties the 
 waters of the upper basin into the Eden, leaped and tumbled 
 over igneous, and penetrated its way through aqueous, 
 formations, till it mingled into rejoicing union with the 
 lovely Eden immediately under the old towers of Spottis- 
 wood, and the fine Gothic church of Dairsie. This deep
 
 DURA DEN; on, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST. 107 
 
 and beautifully-winding ravine was covered from rock to 
 rock, on each successively sunny side, by trees of various 
 name and leaf, from the scented sloe and hawthorn, up to 
 the hazel, the birch, and the oak. It was a perfect aviary 
 during the spring months. A few wild deer browsed amidst 
 recesses, and various love-smitten maids and men repaired 
 to this retreat, to talk of many things which were only in- 
 teresting to themselves. The soft projecting sandstone 
 rocks had been water-run into caves and recesses; and in 
 some of these report had fixed the residence, for a night at 
 least, of the famous Balfour of Burley, after the affair of 
 Magus Muir.* It is not, however, to this, but to a more 
 recent occurrence, that I am now about to solicit your at- 
 tention, after, however, premising the change which has 
 now been wrought upon this once rural, secluded, romantic, 
 lovely spot. At the very entrance, there stands a bone- 
 mill, grinding, with grating activity and horrible crunch, 
 into powder the mingled bones of man and beast. You. 
 have scarcely escaped from the horrible jarring sound of 
 the modern ogre, than you come full plump upon a spin- 
 ning-mill, with as many windows as there are days in the 
 year. There it stands bestriding the valley like a colossus, 
 and commanding all the collected energies of the once pure- 
 and solitary stream. Bless me ! how it thunders: the very 
 rocks seem to shake under the whirl of the tremendous ma- 
 chinery; whilst at every open window out flies in clouds 
 the imprisoned dust and stour. A single door opens, and 
 the sound maddens on your ear into a screwing torture. It 
 shuts again. You are greatly relieved by the compressed 
 and imprisoned horror. A little further up this once de- 
 lightful den, a pillar of smoke shoots out on the eye, like an 
 eruption of Mount Vesuvius. This is an evidence that (as 
 in the formation of this globe) fire has been called upon to 
 
 * A sword has lately been discovered in one of the eaves, rusted and 
 broken probably once the sword of Burley! 19th. Oct., 1839.
 
 108 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 assist water. Again and again, another and another hulking 
 dirty erection fixes its hideous trail in the lovely localities, 
 till the landscape still onwards opens upon green fields, all 
 covered and whitened over, not with daisies, but with yarn, 
 which has just been removed from the vitriolic vat. I had 
 essayed here and there to fish, but had not even a nibble. A 
 little factory urchin, who saw my mistake, immediately ac- 
 costed me with 
 
 "Ye needna fish here about, sir, for the fish are a' 
 dead." 
 
 " What has deaded them?" said I. 
 
 " Oh ! I dinna ken, except maybe it's the vitriol tney 
 dinna tak wi' the vitriol ava." 
 
 " No wonder," thought I. " I suspect neither you nor I 
 would tak weel with such a beverage." So I at once rolled 
 in my line, put up my rod, and was on the eve of returning, 
 somewhat disappointed, from my forenoon's ramble, when 
 my attention was attracted by an old, though fresh-looking 
 man in his " cruda viridisque sznectus" who was sitting on 
 a bench in the sunshine, betwixt the door and the window 
 of one of those very neat and cleanly cottages, which have 
 been erected for the convenience and accommodation of the 
 mill-spinners, and which, from the name of the spirited pro- 
 prietor, has been called " Yoolfield." 
 
 " James," said the old man " come here, James, and tell 
 me what's that ye waur saying to the gentleman." 
 
 " Ou, I was only telling him there waur nae trouts, ex- 
 cept stane anes,* here." 
 
 In the meantime, I had approached the old man's seat, 
 and thinking that he motioned me to be seated, I at once 
 took my place, as if I had been an old acquaintance, by his 
 side. It turned out that he was the grandfather of this 
 urchin, who in a few minutes reappeared with a face of 
 
 Vide recent discoveries of extinct species of fish found in this den. 
 "Fife Illustrated." Glasgow: James Swan.
 
 DUKA DEN; OB, SECOND THOUGHTS ABE BEST. 100 
 
 great comfort and vigorous health; "causa erat in aperto " 
 he had dined. 
 
 " Ye'll be a stranger hereaboots, I mak nae doubt?" said 
 the old man. 
 
 I replied that I had been so for some time past; that I 
 had stopped, on my way north, a day in Cupar, in order to 
 revisit this romantic retreat; but that it was now sadly 
 changed, and I had not the heart to pursue my walk any 
 further. I miss, added I, everything which I expected to 
 see: the solitude, the green banks, the trees, the pure 
 waters, the yellow trouts, the all of innocence and nature 
 by which this den was marked, ere these vile spinning-jen- 
 nies had entered, with noise, confusion, and defilement in 
 their train. 
 
 "And so," said the aged Nestor, "ye are up in arms 
 against the late erections, because ye canna get an hour or 
 twa's fishing, ror pursue your own fancies about solitude, 
 and innocence, and that ! I will tell ye, my good sir for 
 ye're but a bairn in comparison wi' me that had ye expe- 
 rienced what I hae experienced, ye wad hae blessed the day 
 which converted this solitary and useless den into a source 
 of comfortable living to hundreds of families, who might 
 otherwise be starving at home, or banished from all that 
 they hold dear into a foreign land." 
 
 " Grandfather," hereupon said a fine rosy girl about four- 
 teen, " dinner's ready: will ye come in, or will I bring it out 
 to you?" 
 
 "I think," said the ancient patriarch, "I'll just rest what 
 I am; it's a bonny sunny day, and the den is a' loun and 
 sheltered. Just bring out the broth and the wee bit Irish 
 stew here, and maybe this gentleman, now tired wi' nae 
 fishing, will no scorn to tak a spoonfu' and a bit alaugside 
 o' a puir auld body." 
 
 I immediately assured my kind host that I had provi- 
 sions in my basket, which I soon disengaged, together with
 
 1 10 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 a flask containing a sufficiency of old Nantz. To it, there- 
 fore, we set, exchanging viands: I partaking of the excel- 
 lent and savoury stew, and he of a wee drap, only a veiy 
 wee drap, of the brandy. Like Sir Walter Scott's minstrel, 
 the soul of the old yet vigorous Trojan waxed strong within 
 Trim; and, after having duly returned thanks to the Giver 
 of all good, he drew me close to his elbow, and proceeded 
 thus: 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I'm now considerably upwards of eighty 
 years the period at which the psalmist says the strength 
 of man is but grief and labour; but I haena found it sae, 
 for a' my griefs and labours were confined to the earlier 
 pairt o' my life, and no to the latter day His name be 
 praised for the same." 
 
 I instinctively answered "Amen;" and, partly encouraged 
 by this, and partly by an additional pull at the brandy-flask, 
 the old man pursued his egotism. 
 
 "Well, ye .see, ye are against spinning-jennies and large 
 manufactures, ye say; but they are the freends o' the puir, 
 sir the blessed supporters o' thousands and millions in 
 these lands.* You shall hear; for, as you seem to have 
 time on your hands, I will, for your father's sake " (I had 
 made him acquainted with my descent from a worthy clergy- 
 man in the north), " unfold to you my whole history, and 
 that of my children, up to this hour: 
 
 " My name, sir, is Donald Sutherland. I belong originally 
 to the county of that name; and I was bred a farmer on the 
 estates of the Duchess of Sutherland. But there was neither 
 duke nor duchess then, oh dear!" (Hereupon the old man 
 absolutely cried; having, however, checked himself by ob- 
 serving that he was an old fool, he again proceeded): "I 
 had, as I said, a small sheep-farm, of about one thousand 
 acres, in the western district of that county. I see, sir, you 
 
 Very different this deliverance from that of Mrs Trollope in her 
 " Factory Boj."
 
 DTJEA DEN; OK, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST. Ill 
 
 are surprised at my saying small; but, sir, when land is let 
 at a shilling an acre, as it was in my day, such a farm is but 
 small a thousand shillings, ye ken, is just fifty pounds o' 
 yearly rent: and that was my rent at Edderachills, nearby 
 Loch Assynt. I am now, as ye see, an auld man, and a 
 grey; but I was ance young, and stout, and foolish too, nae 
 doobt. I thought naething wad war me, sae I just married 
 whan I was a young, inexperienced callan, about nineteen; 
 and, having got a brother of my puir father's to be security 
 (ye see my puir father was only a hind on the estate o* 
 Sutherland, and had neither money nor credit), I took my 
 dear Helen M'Eoy home to no that ill abigging wi' a han- 
 tle o' blankets, a peat-fire, a herd callan, and twa as canny 
 and sensible dogs as ever followed a herd, or turned a hirseL 
 Aweel, ye ken, Helen and me war very happy, for we loved 
 each other dearly; we had been acquainted fraethe time we 
 could climb a brae or eat a cranberry; and things went on 
 no that ill ava. We had twa bairns in the course o' twal 
 years, a lassie, and a fine lad, wha was drowned, as ye shall 
 hear; but oh my heart is sair whan I think o't. It was one 
 awful night in the month of January. A vessel had stranded 
 in Loch Assynt. The men were seen, through a stormy 
 moonshine, hanging to the topmast, which, however, went 
 from side to side, with a fearful swing. At every turn or 
 jerk, another and another human being was plunged into the 
 roaring foam. My son Archibald, my shepherd, and I, pushed 
 from the shore in a fishing-boat, which was lying high and 
 dry we heard the fearful screams of perishing men we 
 rowed off at all hazards, but had not neared the vessel, when 
 our boat fairly swamped. We were still, however, within 
 wading depth, and with difficulty regained our feet and the 
 boat. We again pushed hard from land, and at last came 
 under the lee of the wreck. My son was young, active, and 
 daring; and, in order to ascertain how matters were, or what 
 remained of the deck, lie caught a rope, and leaped on board.
 
 112 TALES OF THE BOBDEKS. 
 
 In an instant, a young man, a passenger, with his wife and 
 child, were slung, as it were, miraculously on board our little 
 boat. The waves went up in spouting foam betwixt the 
 wreck and the boat, and then subsiding, heaved us with a 
 tremendous crash against the side of the vessel; and I re- 
 member no more till I awoke to misery, in a kelp hut by the 
 sea-shore. I found that my son, with the woman and child, 
 had perished; but that the husband, my shepherd, and my- 
 self, had been cast ashore, and with difficulty resuscitated. 
 My grief and his mother's grief were loud and severe. But 
 ' what cannot be cured must be endured.' The stranger was 
 a native of Fife, who had been to America on a mercantile 
 speculation, and having married at New York, and become 
 a father, was on his way towards Kirkcaldy, his native place, 
 when this dreadful accident occurred. He had lost all 
 his effects, and some money in the wreck, and was content 
 to take part of my humble dwelling for a season. In the 
 meantime, my lease expired, and another proprietor had 
 arisen, who knew not Donald Sutherland. The rent offered 
 by my next and more wealthy neighbour was far above 
 what I would think of promising, so I behoved to leave 
 sweet Edderachills, with all its heath, and moss, and muir, 
 for a sea-shore appointment in the manufacturing of kelp 
 from sea- weed at that time a very flourishing employment in 
 the West Highlands in particular. The stranger about this 
 time took his departure, but not without many promises of 
 returning again to visit the grave of his wife and child, and 
 to renew his acquaintance with my wife, my daughter, and 
 myself. For a time the kelp concern did pretty well; we 
 had good and regular payment for the article, and an in- 
 creasing demand; and we contrived to live at least as com- 
 fortably as we had done as sheep-farmers. But man is 
 always finding -out inventions; a method was devised of 
 dispensing, by means of a chemical discovery, with our 
 kelp entirely; and we were suddenly and entirely ruined.
 
 DURA DEN; OB, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST. 113 
 
 It was at this period that I, in a manner, cursed, like you, 
 the spirit of discovery and invention. I was disgusted by 
 the change which the progress of science had made, and I 
 did not know how to turn myself for a bare subsistence. la 
 this situation of affairs, my daughter Nelly within there 
 (pointing to the door) was courted by a neighbouring sheep- 
 farmer's son, of a somewhat disreputable character, but of 
 considerable reputed wealth. This was a sad trial to us all; 
 for, though the marriage might have benefited us somewhat, 
 in a worldly point of view, we did not like to see our bloom- 
 ing and virtuous child sacrificed, it might be, to the momen- 
 tary feelings of a known deceiver. Nelly could not bear 
 the thoughts of such a union; and one night she told her 
 lover as much. In consequence of this unfortunate affair, 
 we were very soon after turned out of house and hold the 
 old farmer having contracted with the proprietor for the 
 huts and steadings which had once been peopled with busy 
 and prosperous hands, but which now were nearly empty. 
 Baser proposals than before were made by the degraded and 
 vindictive young man; and we set off, one moonlight night, 
 across the hills, for the town of Dornoch. We were three 
 wanderers in the wilderness my wife Helen, my daughter 
 Nelly, and myself. I was still comparatively strong, and 
 was determined to work, but could find no employment 
 For days we slept (for the weather was fine) on the heath, 
 and lived on what little of our means yet remained. I was 
 resolved, come what might, that I would not beg. My 
 wife and daughter bore up amazingly; for we trusted that our 
 God the God of the hills, as well as of the valleys; of the 
 poor and the outcast, as well as of the rich and provided 
 would not forget us. I found temporary work, at last, in 
 a stone quarry, and occupied a hut close upon the sea-shore. 
 This, to us all, was luxury; for it was independence. Con- 
 tentment kitchened labour, and we slept soundly in our 
 poverty and innocence. But this, I saw, could not long
 
 114 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 continue; my strength was not equal to this severe labour, 
 to which I was unaccustomed; so I persuaded, not without 
 difficulty, my wife and daughter to accompany me to 
 Canada, to which the Countess of Sutherland was then 
 offering a free passage from Cromarty Frith, in the good 
 ship Aurora. I should, however, have mentioned that, 
 whilst residing at Dornoch, I had observed the son of a 
 neighbouring proprietor a somewhat smart-looking gentle- 
 man frequently passing our door, and sometimes con- 
 versing with my wife and daughter; but I took no notice 
 of the affair, as I felt secure in the virtue and prudence of 
 both parties. No proposals, honourable or otherwise, were 
 made to my daughter, and I conceived the matter to be at 
 an end. On the day of the ship's sailing, we were all on 
 the quay, and ready to embark My wife and I had entered 
 the boat, and were waiting for my daughter, who had been 
 sent by us on a message to a shop. She did not return in 
 time for the boat in which we were conveyed to the Aurora; 
 but we were told by the sailors that she would probably 
 arrive in the next. One boat, however, arrived, but our 
 dear Nelly was not in it; another came, but with it no 
 daughter. Meantime the ship was under sail, and the cap- 
 tain said he would not lose the favourable breeze for all the 
 girls in Scotland. My dear wife was inconsolable, and I 
 petitioned hard to be let out, even on one of the Western 
 Isles; but the weather was exceeding stormy, and we kept 
 as far as possible from land. ' God,' said I to my grieving 
 partner, ' will protect Nelly; for she is good and virtuous. 
 God can be father and mother, and more than all that, to 
 those who fear and obey him.' We landed at Quebec, and 
 maintained ourselves for some time I acting as a kind of 
 shore-porter, and my wife assisting in assorting furs in a 
 great warehouse. But our means were but small; so we 
 bethought us of removing more inland. So we arrived 
 ultimately at Montreal, where I had the good fortune to
 
 DTTRA DEN; OR, SECOND THOUGHTS ARE BEST. 115 
 
 meet with a distant relative in pretty good circumstances. 
 He had long been engaged in a mercantile house, and had 
 now obtained a considerable and a profitable share in it. 
 He immediately found employment for me as a warehouse 
 servant, whilst my wife washed and dressed for himself and 
 a few friends. Year after year passed by, and many a let- 
 ter did we write to Edderachills and Dornoch; but we re- 
 ceived no answer. At last it pleUsed God to remove my 
 dear Helen by death; and my friend having resolved to re- 
 move to Kirkcaldy, his native place, I took shipping with 
 him in the ship St John, and we arrived off the Land's End 
 in safety. But it came on to blow dreadfully from the 
 north and the east, as we rounded the island; and one 
 dark night in the month of November we struck upon a 
 rock in the neighbourhood of Ely. The ship fired signals 
 of distress, and a boat came out, which saved the passengers 
 and crew; but the ship and cargo were lost. What was my 
 surprise, upon arriving at the inn, to find, in the person of 
 one of the boatmen, the shipwrecked stranger, Sam Eogers, 
 who had lodged so long with us at Edderachills. He in- 
 sisted upon my immediately repairing to his cabin, as he 
 termed it, on the shore, with the view of introducing me to 
 his wife and a large family of children. 
 
 " ' Have you ever heard,' continued he, after we were 
 seated, 'anything of your daughter Nelly?' 
 
 " ' Not a word,' said I, eagerly. ' Have you? ' 
 
 "'Would you know her,' continued he, 'if you were 
 again to see her?' 
 
 " ' Know her,' said I; ' to be sure I would her image is 
 ever before me. I see her, at this moment, as plainly as 
 if she were still alive. Oh! what horrible! stand off! 
 stand off! Do these old eyes deceive me, or art thou indeed 
 my own darling, lost child?' said I; whilst Nelly the real 
 flesh-and-blood Nelly clasped me to her arms, and burst 
 into a flood of tears.
 
 116 TALES OF THE BOEDER. 
 
 "'My father! my father!' she exclaimed, whilst the 
 young ones gathered around us in stupid amazement; and 
 my son-in-law, Sam Rogers, rubbed his hands and flapped 
 hia arms in perfect delight. It was indeed my dear Nelly, 
 in the person of Helen Rogers, the still handsome mother 
 of seven children. 
 
 " But, Helen, I say Helen, set down the bairn a wee bit, 
 and tell this honest gentleman the Dornoch story, ye ken." 
 
 "Hout," said Helen, "I hae nae time, father, to enter 
 into a' the outs and ins o' thae langsyne tales; besides, I see 
 Sam waving me up to the mill I'm wanted, father, an' ye- 
 maun look after the bairn till I come back again." 
 
 Being foiled in his wish to set his daughter's tongue 
 agoing to the tune of her own adventures, the old man 
 placed the child on the greensward in front of the cottage, 
 and, after once more paying his respects to my brandy-flask, 
 proceeded as follows: 
 
 " Weel, the lassie disna like to hear me tell the story; I 
 ken she aye blushes at bits o't; but now that she's awa, I 
 may just as weel finish, by letting ye know that the scamp 
 wha had seen, and fallen in love, as he called it, with her at 
 Dornoch, had watched her down to the beach, and having 
 hired some accomplice in the person of one of the sailors, 
 had her misdirected in the first place, and lifted off her feet 
 in the second, and placed beside the well-known gentleman 
 in a post-chaise, which drove off immediately in an inland 
 direction. In tain were all her struggles and entreaties. 
 The young blackguard immediately proceeded to inform her 
 that her struggles and her shouts were of no avail; that he 
 could not promise her marriage, as he was already engaged, 
 to please his mother; but he would give her love in abun- 
 dance, and a cottage residence, which he had provided for her 
 on his father's property, at no great distance. It was in vain 
 for her to resist; but she had resolved rather to die than to 
 yield to his wishes; so, when they had arrived at the centre
 
 DUKA DEN; on, SECOND THOUGHTS AEE BEST. 117 
 
 of an extensive plantation, he caused her to alight, and dia- 
 missing, as it was now nearly dark, the chaise and driver, 
 proceeded to conduct her, as he said, on foot to the cottage 
 which he had provided. He half dragged her a few paces 
 from the road, or rather track through the wood, and, un- 
 veiling all at once the fiend within him, proceeded to open 
 and undisguised violence. But, sir," said the old man, with 
 emphasis, " he thought himself alone, but he was not alone 
 God saw him, and had marked his proceedings; and God 
 sent a deliverer, in the person of him owre by yonder" (point- 
 ing to the mills). " God sent Sam Rogers, with a guid oak 
 plank, to free the captive, and make the captor flee for his 
 life: in short, sir fbr I fear I have tired ye wi' my lang- 
 winded story Sam, by the mercy of God, had just landed 
 at Dornoch as we sailed from it; and being on his way to 
 Edderachills, for the very purpose of asking my Nelly in 
 marriage, he had pushed on, meaning to travel all night 
 across the country, when the providential occurrence took 
 place. Weel, we went now to Ely, where we remained for 
 a time old grandy, that is, myself, my son, and his family; 
 but times became tight there, and the family kept still in- 
 creasing; so at last we got acquainted with the worthy 
 gentleman, Mr Yool, to whom all these great works and 
 these neat cottages belong, and he brought us up here, and 
 set us down comfortably, where not only my son-in-law, but 
 every wean, male and female, above seven years of age, can 
 earn its own clothes and subsistence. We are now, sir, in 
 comparative affluence; and all this, sir, is owing to these 
 improvements in machinery and in chemistry, which at one 
 time drove me from my native land. ' SECOND THOUGHTS, 
 THEY SAY, ARE BEST;' at least so it has been with me, as I 
 sit here in my old age, in comparative ease and comfort, and 
 see my grandchildren growing up in domestic affection and 
 public usefulness around me. Here is no scattering of the 
 young family one going cast, and one west, never to meet
 
 118 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 again; but here, every night, all congregate around one heart\ 
 whilst a psalm is sung, a chapter is read, and a prayer 
 said by grandy himself!" 
 
 I shall never regret the loss of my old and favourite 
 amusement, whilst I can recollect this old man's narrative, 
 and the many happy and comfortable homes which now o 
 cupy the once solitary holms of Dura Den.
 
 THS LAJKD OF LUCKY'g HOW. 119 
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY'S HOW 
 
 HAVE any of our readers ever been at the Hague ? It doesn't 
 much signify whether they have or not. They know that 
 it is one of the most beautiful towns in the Netherlands, and 
 that it is not a little famous in ancient story; and their know- 
 ing this is quite enough for our present purpose. If, how- 
 ever, they knew the town a little more intimately, they 
 would know that one of its principal and most ancient streets 
 is called the Hoogstraat; and that here, once on a time, 
 stood the principal inn or hostelry of the town. It was an 
 oldfashioned house, with a great variety of projecting and 
 excrescent structures, of all sorts and sizes, stuck to it, to 
 increase its internal accommodation, and to puzzle the cu- 
 rious inquirer at least this seemed a part of the design 
 who, while taking an. outside view, wondered what they 
 could all be intended for. 
 
 Notwithstanding, however, the somewhat uncouth and 
 perplexing appearance of the exterior of the Drouthsloken 
 which was the name of the ancient hostel in question it 
 was a sufficiently handsome and comfortable house within. 
 Its kitchen, in particular, was a sight; it was so clean, so 
 bright, and so cheerful: shining all round with pewter 
 trenchers and brass utensils of various descriptions, all as 
 lustrous as whiting and hard rubbing could make them. 
 The place was a treat to look at; and no less a treat to look 
 at was its jolly landlord, Thonder Vander Tromp. From 
 stem to stern, Thonder was of the regular Dutch build; 
 which, without descending to particulars, we may say con- 
 sists, as our readers know, in exhibiting an amplitude of 
 material at all points of the person. In this respect, our
 
 120 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 good friend Thonder might be considered a cliff d'ceuvre; 
 for he was of the most magnificent dimensions, especially 
 latitudinally. In longitude, indeed, he might be considered 
 as a little deficient. He was of no great height; but his 
 girth was superb, and told a tale of good living, with an 
 unction which no language could approach. In this tale the 
 ruddy, jovial countenance of mine host of the Drouthsloken 
 cordially joined; and supported by its hilarious testimony 
 the facts therein set forth. 
 
 Having thus shortly described both mine host and his 
 hostel, we proceed to say that, on a certain evening in the 
 middle of the winter of 1651, a stranger, carrying a small 
 bundle under his arm, walked, or rather stalked for there 
 was something uncouth in his gait into the passage of the 
 Drouthsloken. He was wrapped up in a Scottish plaid, and 
 wore on his head the well-known flat blue bonnet of the 
 Scottish Lowlands. In person, he was tall and spare, with 
 the grave and serious cast of countenance so characteristic 
 of that people whose national dress he wore. Unpolished, 
 however, as the exterior of this person bespoke him to be, 
 there was yet, in his light grey eye, a mingled expression 
 of determination and intelligence, that never failed to secure 
 the respect which his manner and first appearance might 
 well have forfeited. His age seemed about forty or forty- 
 five. 
 
 Finding no one to whom he might address himself in the 
 passage of the inn, the stranger held on his way to its fur- 
 ther extremity no trifling distance; towards which he was 
 attracted by sounds of laughter and merriment, issuing from 
 the kitchen of the Drouthsloken, which was situated at the 
 farther end of the passage by which the house was inter- 
 sected, and the same with that which he was now travers- 
 ing. 
 
 The sounds of merriment by which the stranger had been 
 attracted proceeded from a group of young men, who,
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY'S HOW. 121 
 
 standing in the form of a semicircle in front of the jolly 
 landlord of the house who, again, stood with his back to 
 the fire, wielding a huge black bottle in his hand were in- 
 dulging in uproarious laughter at the witty sayings which 
 he, the latter, seemed throwing amongst them like so many 
 squibs and crackers. 
 
 At the moment that our friend of the plaid and bonnet 
 entered the kitchen of the Drouthsloken, our jovial host 
 was standing, as we have said, with his back to the fire 
 a roaring one, by the way and looking the very personifi- 
 cation of all that's joyous, and comfortable, and care-dis- 
 pelling. A bright and broad red waistcoat covered his portly 
 front; but buttoned so short a way up as to expose a dazz- 
 ling display of snow-white linen beneath. Across this bril- 
 liant garment there lay also the folds of a pure white 
 apron, tucked up with business-like smartness. Dark vel- 
 veteen small-clothes, with well-polished shoes, on which 
 shone a pair of massive silver buckles, completed the outer 
 man of Thonder Vander Tromp. 
 
 Amongst the merry group of which Tromp was one, some- 
 thing like a sensation was created by the entrance of the 
 stranger. The career of badinage was instantly arrested, 
 and the eyes of the whole party turned towards him. Un- 
 dismayed by the general attention he had excited, the 
 stranger coolly deposited his bundle on a side-table, and, ap- 
 proaching at once the fire, and the group by which it was 
 surrounded, delivered himself, as he did so, of the very 
 simple and homely remark 
 
 " There's a wat nicht, gentlemen." 
 
 Now, the stranger, although he had thus expressed him- 
 self, had not ventured to hope that his language would be 
 understood. He had spoken mechanically as it were, and 
 delivered himself in his usual way, simply because he could 
 do no otherwise, and because he thought it necessary to say 
 something. Great, therefore, was his surprise, and, we may
 
 122 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 add, bis joy also, when one of the young men of the party, 
 of singularly graceful manners and bearing, acknowledged 
 his greeting in excellent English, and with great politeness 
 and civility of speech. 
 
 Delighted at having met with a native of Great Britain, 
 which he could not doubt the young man who had addressed 
 him was 
 
 "Feth, but I am richt glad, sir," said the stranger 
 " excuse my freedom at having met wi' a countryman, as 
 I tak ye to be, sir in this outlandish place. It's mair than 
 I expeckit, I'm sura I had nae thochts o' meetin wi' ony 
 but ane." 
 
 "And pray who was that one, my good friend?" said 
 the young man, throwing, at the same time, a rapid look of 
 intelligence around on his companions, who seemed at once 
 to comprehend its meaning. " Who was that one, my good 
 friend," he said, "if I may ask, without subjecting myself 
 to a charge of impertinence?" 
 
 "Ou, nae impertinence at a', sir; onlyye'll excuse me 
 keepin my thoom on the mater ye inquire aboot till I ken 
 better wha's speerin. Excuse me, sir, excuse me, for this 
 plainness," continued the stranger, smiling; "but I hae 
 come frae a country whar a slip o' the tongue, in thae times, 
 micht cost a man his headj and that maks folks wary, ye 
 ken." 
 
 " Faith, and good reason it should, friend," replied the 
 young man, laughingly. " Thou hast well accounted for thy 
 caution. But recollect thou art now in a different country, 
 mine honest friend, and hast no need to be so guarded in 
 thy speech." 
 
 " Feth, sir, I dinna ken. That may be; but, if ye had 
 
 fan the ticklin o' a tow aboot yer craig, as I hae dune, ye 
 
 wadna forget it in a hurry, nor the lesson it taught ye to 
 
 keep yer tongue atween yer teeth." 
 
 " Well, no doubt; that certainly is rough schooling," Eaid
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY S HOW. 123 
 
 the young cavalier; "but I repeat again, that thou art now 
 in a different country, friend; and one where thou hast no- 
 thing to fear from a reasonable use of thy tongue." 
 
 " Aweel, it may be sae, six" replied the imperturbable 
 stranger; " but I ken o' nae country whar a calm sough's 
 no guid counsel." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! right, friend, right," roared mine jolly 
 host of the Drouthsloken, with open mouth and noisy 
 laugh. "It is not goot to say too moosh anywhere; no 
 more in the Hague as any oder place. But here is all ho- 
 nourable gentlemen," he added, casting a furtive glance of 
 good-humoured meaning at the young man who had first 
 addressed the Scotch visiter, " who will not make bad use 
 of what you shall say." 
 
 " Ou, I hae nae doot o' that at a', sir," replied the latter; 
 " but, to be plain wi' ye, it's no my intention to say ony- 
 thing that onybody can mak ony use o', either guid, bad, or 
 indifferent." And, having said this, the speaker showed a 
 very palpable desire to put an end to the conference, which 
 he evidently began to think was studiously directed by the 
 other party towards an elucidation of his purposes in visit- 
 ing the Hague. In this disposition, however, he was by 
 no means joined by the party in whose presence he was, 
 particularly by the young man by whom he had been first 
 addressed, who evinced a gratification in the peculiar hu- 
 mour of the stranger, and an interest in him altogether 
 that would not permit of his being shaken off. So far in- 
 deed, was he from permitting this, that he insisted on the 
 latter's joining him in a bottle of wine, which he instantly 
 ordered mine jolly host of the Drouthsloken to produce. 
 
 On the return of the latter, bearing a bottle of wine in 
 one hand and a screw in the other 
 
 " Will your your " he said, but was here interrupted 
 
 by a wink from the person he addressed, which had the 
 evident effect of makifig him substitute a different word for
 
 124 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 that which he had intended to use, and he added "your 
 honour." " Will your honour not go up-stairs to your 
 own favourite apartment, de leetle blue parlour ?" 
 
 " No, no, Mynheer Tromp," replied the young cavalier, 
 "we'll just stay where we are. The night is cold, and I 
 have always thought your kitchen the most comfortable 
 and cheerful apartment in your house. So place us a 
 table here, close by the fire, if you please." 
 
 Mynheer Vander Tromp bowed a humble assent; and, 
 in an instant after, a small round table of walnut-tree, 
 shining like a mirror, was placed in the desired situation. 
 Bottles and glasses covered it in a twinkling, and in a 
 twinkling also was the party seated around it, including 
 our fdend of the bonnet and plaid. This worthy person 
 at first shied the good fellowship thus thrust upon him; 
 but, gradually warming with the wine he drank for bot- 
 tle succeeded bottle with marvellous celerity he became 
 by degrees less and less reserved in his manner, until at 
 length his natural caution giving way altogether before 
 the increasing pressure of the vinous influence, he became 
 as communicative as he had before been the reverse. 
 
 Availing himself of the altered disposition of the stran- 
 ger, the young cavalier, whom we have represented as 
 having more especially attached himself to the former, 
 again endeavoured to extract from him the purpose of his 
 visit to the Hague; and his attempt was now successful. 
 
 " Aweel, I'll just tell ye Gude's truth, gentlemen," he 
 said, in answer to a question, or rather hint, on the subject 
 of explanation which had just been addressed to him by his 
 young friend ; and for the reply to which all waited "I'll 
 just tell ye Gude's truth,as I think ye're a' honourable men, 
 and wadna willingly bring a man into trouble, wha hasgien 
 ye nae cause o' offence. Ye see, then freends, I hae just ar- 
 rived frae Scotland, and hae come here to see our unfortu- 
 nate young king, Charles the Second that should be, whase
 
 THE LAIKD OP LUCKY*S HOW. 125 
 
 unhappy story ye dootless a' ken. I hae been ruined oot 
 o' hoose and ha' for the part I took in his puir faither's 
 behalf, and hae been obliged to flee my ain country, besides, 
 for the same reason; and hae noo comehei-e, to see if His 
 Majesty, God bless him, could afford me ony sort o' protec- 
 tion till the storm that's noo tearin a' up by the roots in Scot- 
 land blaws by; and that's just the hail affair, gentlemen." 
 
 Long ere the stranger had concluded this account of the 
 purpose of his visit to the Hague, a look of intelligence, 
 which originated with his young friend, had passed 
 amongst his auditors, and, in the case of the former, was 
 associated with a peculiar expression of sympathy. Both, 
 however, the look alluded to, and the latter symptom of 
 a yet deeper feeling, was unobserved by the person whose 
 communication had given rise to them. Becoming now 
 querist in turn, he asked, "if ony o' the gentlemen could 
 tell him whar the king leeved, and if they could put him 
 on a way o' gettin introduced to him 1" 
 
 " Thou couldst not have lighted more luckily for that, 
 my Mend, "said the young man to whom we have already 
 so often alluded, "than thou hast done in coming amongst 
 us ; for it happens that I hold a confidential place near the 
 person of Charles, and will have much pleasure in exerting 
 my influence in procuring you the introduction you desire." 
 
 " Mony thanks to ye, freend," replied the martyr to 
 royalty "mony thanks to ye, if ye mean, by Charles, 
 His Majesty the King o' England God bless him !" 
 
 "I certainly do, my friend. I mean him and no other.** 
 
 "Weel, sir excuse my freedom if ye do, I think ye 
 micht ca' him sae. Wha can dispute his title, although 
 his back be at the wa' ]" 
 
 " Oh ! no one no one, my good friend, I believe that 
 is, lawfully," replied the young cavalier, laughingly ; " but, 
 seeing his present circumstances a wandering exile in a 
 foreign land, crownless and coinless~we, somehow or other,
 
 126 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 cannot get our tongues about those sounding titles that are 
 his birthright. We prefer calling him simply Charles, or 
 English Charles; and I rather think he prefers it himself. 
 His titles he thinks best left in abeyance in the mean- 
 time." 
 
 " Aweel, if it be his ain pleasure, I hae nae mair to say. 
 Perhaps it's as prudent and becomin; for, as ye say, sir, a 
 king that has neither a croon on his head nor in his pouch 
 is in but a sair condition for his dignity. That maun be 
 allowed." 
 
 There was not much in this remark itself to excite mer- 
 riment; but there was certainly something in the naive 
 manner in which it was delivered that was calculated to 
 produce this effect; and it did. A shout of laughter, in 
 which the speaker's young friend was the loudest and 
 heartiest performer, acknowledged the peculiarity to which 
 we have alluded. On the laugh subsiding, the latter again 
 addressed the former, saying 
 
 " But, friend, you have not yet told us by what name we 
 should address you." 
 
 " As to that," replied the stranger, smilingly, " I believe 
 the maist appropriate name or title ye could gie me at the 
 present moment wad be that o' the Launless Laird. But 
 it wasna aye sae. I had a bit guid property in the Loudans, 
 ca'ed Lucky's How, every clod o't my ain, wi' a yearly rental 
 o' forty merks, guid siller, forby the thirlage o' the Mill o' 
 Meldrum, that was worth a guid twa or three merks mair. 
 But a's gane awa like a handfu o' ingan peelins on a windy 
 day; that cursed battle o' Worcester settled a', and left me 
 withoot a groat, and withoot as much grund as wad mak 
 the hillock o' a moudiwart. But it's a' gane in a guid 
 cause; I dinna begrudge't; and, besides, things '11 maybe 
 come roond again; and, if they dinna, there's nae help for't." 
 
 "So you were at the battle of Worcester, laird 1 ?" said the 
 speaker's young friend,
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY*S ROW. 127 
 
 "Feth! that I was, sir; and there," he added, holding 
 out his right hand, which was minus the forefinger and 
 thumb " there's a certificate o' the truth o' my statement, 
 gien under the hand o' ane o' Crum'H's praying dragoons. 
 It was an ugly lick; but there were a hantle o' uglier anes 
 than it gaun whar it was gotten. It was a coorse business 
 athegither." 
 
 " It was no less, my good friend," said the young cavalier. 
 " I was there, too." 
 
 "Was ye, feth?" replied the laird. "Then, if ye was, 
 sir, ye saw a bonny stramash mair than yell forget in a 
 hurry, I daursay. It was an awfu scene yon, when the 
 dragoons cam in upon us in the streets o' Worcester. 'Od ! 
 they sliced and slapped aboot them as if they had gotten 
 into a plantation o' lang kale, and no amang Christian men 
 like themsels." 
 
 " It was indeed a sad business," replied the young man, 
 with a melancholy smile. "Saw ye the king on that day?" 
 
 " I did," replied the laird. 
 
 "Wouldst know him again?" 
 
 "No; I canna think I wad. I just got a glisk o' him, 
 for the first and last time, in the middle o' the dirdum at 
 Worcester. When I saw him, the puir lad was fechtin like 
 a Turk; but it was a' to nae purpose. He was obleeged to 
 rin for't at last, and to perk himsel up in a tree, like a 
 hoolet, to keep oot o' the way o' Crum'H's sodgers. If they 
 had gotten the puir lad as it was a God's mercy they 
 didna they wad hae taen aff his head, nae doot, as they 
 did his unfortunate faither's; and then, as, indeed, it's said 
 they proposed to do, made a buttonmaker o' his sister, and 
 maybe a Spitalfields weaver o' his brither, the Duke o' 
 Gloucester." 
 
 " I have heard," replied the young cavalier, with a con- 
 temptuous smile, while a blush of deep feeling, it might be 
 indignation, overspread his intelligent countenance "I
 
 128 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 have heard that some such idea was actually entertained by 
 the Parliament as that thou hast alluded to." 
 
 "There's nae doot that such a report was current, sir; 
 but whether true or no, I winna tak upon me to say. They 
 may hae been belied in't." 
 
 " I hope they may," replied the young cavalier, musingly.. 
 Then, suddenly recovering himself, and assuming his usual 
 cheerfulness of manner "And what are the king's friends 
 about in Scotland?" he said, slapping the laird good-hu- 
 mouredly on the knee. 
 
 "Dooms little, sir," replied the laird. "They daurna 
 cheep. Monk has gotten his heel fairly on their necks; so 
 that deil a ane o' them can wag either tongue or finger. 
 There's a wheen o' them taen to the hills wi' Glencairn and 
 Balcarras; but what can they do? Naething. It's a puir 
 thing to be in that way, sir. I had a trial o 1 that myseL 
 Tak my word for't, that sleepin in a moss hag, or in the 
 lee o' a whin-bush, and leevin upon lavrocks, or raw turnips 
 and bog-water, is nae better than it's ca'cd." 
 
 " Well, well, laird, I hope times will mend with our poor 
 friends in Scotland," replied the young cavalier, to whom 
 this picture of the sufferings of the royalists, notwithstand- 
 ing the strong tincture it exhibited of the speaker's natural 
 humour, seemed to give much pain. " I hope times will 
 mend with them yet, and that feasting and feather-beds 
 will make them forget the raw turnips and whin-bushes ye 
 speak of. In the meantime, my good friend, push round 
 the bottle, and let us talk of other matters; for these make 
 me sad." 
 
 Nothing loth, the Laird of Lucky's How filled up a brim- 
 ming bumper, and, drinking " better times," sent it down 
 after some two or three dozen that had preceded it. 
 
 The party were now getting into high glee. The laugh,, 
 the joke, and the bottle went merrily round, and the mer- 
 riest, and apparently the most jovial of the company, wi
 
 THE LAIRD OF LTTCKYS HOW. 129 
 
 the young gentleman whom we have hitherto represented 
 as expressly attaching himself to the laird, and whose name, 
 as the latter learned from himself, was Jones. This roy- 
 sterer was the life and soul of the company, when royster- 
 ing became the order of the evening; but his mirth was 
 tempered with a gentleness of demeanour, and an air of 
 polished hilarity, if such a phrase may be permitted, as in- 
 spired the idea of the presence of a perfect gentleman. His 
 whole manner, in short, was exceedingly captivating. His 
 fancy was ready and playful; his wit brilliant and appro- 
 priate; and the affability and winning character of his smile 
 irresistible. Altogether, he was a most delightful com- 
 panion, and admirably calculated to figure in such circum- 
 stances as those in which he was now placed. How he 
 might acquit himself in a scene of a more grave and serious 
 character, it would not perhaps have been easy to guess. 
 
 The mirth of the party in the kitchen of the Drouth- 
 sloken had just attained its height, when a circumstance 
 occurred which did not affect its humour, but somewhat 
 changed its character. This was the entrance of two of the 
 landlord's daughters. Dressed in the neat and simple, al- 
 though somewhat peculiar, costume of their country, with 
 their hair tightly braided up, and bound with a broad silver 
 frontlet, so as to exhibit in bold relief the contour of their 
 full and fair countenances, two prettier girls than Juliana 
 and Joan Vander Trornp were not within the walls of the 
 Hague. 
 
 As they entered the kitchen, to which they had come 
 merely, or, perhaps, we should have said ostensibly, to look 
 after some household affairs, the girls curtsied slightly but 
 gracefully to the company by which it was occupied, and, 
 smiling pleasantly and good-naturedly the while, passed on 
 to the upper end of the apartment, and began to occupy 
 themselves in some little domestic duties. They had not, 
 however, been permitted to enter unnoticed. On their ap- 
 
 VOL. IX. E
 
 130 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 pearance, the whole party got up from their seats, and ac- 
 knowledged their presence by a gallant greeting; and in thia 
 courtesy, Mr Jones again shone pre-eminent by the greater 
 grace and deeper devotion he displayed in his chivalrous 
 welcome to the fair visiters. 
 
 It might have been observed, too, that to him, in turn, 
 were the curtsies and the looks also of the young ladies 
 most especially directed; but in this case these were asso- 
 ciated with a degree of respect for which it would not have 
 been easy to account. 
 
 "What think ye of our fair Netherlander, laird?" said 
 Mr Jones to the latter, in a half whisper, when the ladies' 
 attention was, or seemed to be, engrossed by their occupa- 
 tion. "Will they not match your Scotch lasses, think 
 you?" 
 
 " That's a pair o' braw queans, I maun allow," replied 
 the laird. " Just twa as bonny bits o' lassocks as ane wad 
 wish to see; but I think they want the complexion they 
 haena the blume o' our kilted heather trampers. They 
 want the caller red that the norland breeze puts on the 
 cheeks o' our Scottish gilpies. That's my humble opinion, 
 sir. But they're twa bonny lassocks, for a' that. Nae 
 doot o't." 
 
 " On the score of complexion I grant ye, laird, they are, 
 perhaps, deficient a little, but I think this amply compen- 
 sated by the intellectual expression, the fine contour, and 
 the softer and more intense lustre of the eye. I have seen 
 your Scottish maidens, laird, and admired them in my 
 time." 
 
 "Feth, sir, I maun say your taste wad hae been very 
 questionable if ye hadna," interposed the laird. "When 
 and whar saw ye them, if ye please, sir? What pairt c' 
 Scotland was ye i^?" he added. 
 
 The question appeared to place Jones in a difficulty for a 
 moment; but he at length answered
 
 THE LAIPwD OF LUCKY'S HOW. 131 
 
 " Why, laird, I have been in many parts of Scotland in 
 my day, I was with the king at Scone." 
 
 "Was that at the time o' his coronation?" inquired the 
 laird. 
 
 " It was," said Jones. 
 
 "And it wad be there, like, and aboot the quarter o' 
 Perth, that ye saw our bonny Scotch lasses, I warrant," 
 said the laird, laughingly. "Ay, if a' tales be true, the 
 king admired them when he saw them, as muckle as ye 
 could do, sir," continued the laird. 
 
 " Why, they do report something of that kind," replied 
 Jones, with some confusion of manner, and slightly colour- 
 ing as he spoke indications of a feeling, whatever it was, 
 which seemed highly edifying to his companions, who 
 marked it with repeated bursts of laughter; " they do report 
 something of the land," said Jones; " but we mustn't credit 
 all we hear, laird." 
 
 " The tae half's aboot the usual thing I believe," replied 
 the latter; "and, if we tak that in the present case that 
 is, regarding the king's gallantries " 
 
 "Ay, ay, go on, laird, go on that's it give us all you 
 know about the king's gallantries in Scotland," shouted, 
 almost simultaneously, the other members of the party. 
 " Go on, go on, like a good fellow." 
 
 " Nay, nay, now," exclaimed Jones, earnestly, but good- 
 humouredly, "as one of the king's confidential servants, I 
 must protest, laird, against your divulging anything of that 
 kind in my presence." 
 
 " Never mind the protest never mind the protest, laird. 
 Go on, and we'll stand between you and the consequences," 
 again shouted several members of the party. " What know 
 ye about the king's gallantries at Scone?" 
 
 " Ou, it was nae great things after a', to mak a wark 
 aboot; but, ye see, there war a wheen unco godly minis- 
 ters there at the time, an' they made an awfu ado aboot it
 
 132 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 The hale affair was just this. The king happenin to go 
 into the room that he usually occupied in the Palace o* 
 Scone ae mornin earlier than ordinar, wha does he fin sortin't 
 oot but a bit bonny lassie o' a chaumermaid. Aweel, whan 
 she saw the king enter, wham she hadna expeckit for at 
 least an hour after, what does she do but mak a rin oot, as 
 it war, and what does the king do but kep her, throw his 
 arms aboot her neck, and gie her a hearty kiss a rcglar 
 royal salute ? And awa gaed the lassie, skirlin like a cur- 
 lew, half -mad wi' the fricht an' the honour. But what wad 
 ye hae o't but that ane o' the Covenantin ministers, wha 
 war then as thick as craws aboot Scone it bein just like a 
 rookery wi' the black coats for the time suld be just at 
 the moment stanin at a window, in anither apartment that 
 lookit richt into the ane whar the king had kissed the bit 
 lassie, and saw the hale affair; and what does he do but re- 
 port the scandal to his brethren, wha, shocked at the in- 
 decency, appointed a committee o' ministers to reprove the 
 royal offender ! This committee accordingly waited on the 
 king, whan their spokesman, ane Douglas an awfu stern 
 man after rebookin His Majesty, added, that it wad be 
 prudent o' him, whan he desired to amuse himsel in future, 
 to be mair carefu in shuttin the windows." 
 
 " Capital, laird; capital !" shouted several of the party, in 
 convulsions of laughter. " Any more any more 1 " 
 
 " Nay, nay, now, laird," said Jones, laughing, and clap- 
 ping his hand on the mouth of the tell-tale; " on your alle- 
 giance to your lawful sovereign, I command ye to silence. 
 He must not, in my presence, be made a subject of mirth to 
 these idle jesters." 
 
 "Tuts, it's but a joke, man; but if ye think it wad offend 
 His Majesty, I'll say nae mair. I wad suner lose something 
 considerable than do that. But what the waur can the 
 king be o' it's bein kent that he likes the lasses? I trow 
 it's rather a feather in his kep than a discredit till him."
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY's HOW. 133 
 
 "Well done, laird!" exclaimed Jones, clapping the former 
 jocosely on the shoulder. "Thou'rt a good old soul; and I 
 shall take care that Charles knows of thy lenity towards 
 his failings. It will do thee no harm with him." 
 
 Having' said this, Jones rose from the table, and went 
 towards the landlord's daughters, who were still busily 
 occupied, or apparently so, at any rate, at the further end 
 of the apartment. His approach to these fair damsels was 
 made in the most gallant fashion imaginable, and with all 
 the air and manner of a thoroughbred courtier and cava- 
 lier. What conversation passed between him and the girls 
 was not overheard by the other members of the party; but 
 the frequent bursts of laughter which were from time to 
 time elicited, sufficiently showed that it was of a mirthful 
 character, and that the badinage of Jones fully supported, 
 in point and brilliancy, the credit of his other kindred qua- 
 lifications. After some time, he returned to his party, and 
 again took his seat beside the laird; who, on his doing so, 
 remarked 
 
 " Feth, sir, ye seem as guid a hand at botherin the lasses 
 as your master. It's in the family, I think." 
 
 A roar of laughter succeeded this sally, to which Jones 
 himself was one of the largest contributors, although it was 
 certainly mingled with some embarrassment of manner. 
 From this embarrassment, however, he was unexpectedly 
 relieved by the strains of a wandering minstrel, which sud- 
 denly rose from the street, just underneath the window of 
 the kitchen of the Drouthsloken. As these strains were of 
 no ordinary excellence, they instantly attracted the atten- 
 tion of all in the apartment, inclusive of the landlord's two 
 fair daughters, one of whom in especial (Juliana) evinced, 
 by her flurried and agitated manner, a greater interest in 
 the presence of the minstrel than would have been war- 
 ranted on the supposition that it was merely accidental. 
 Her confusion, however, and the consciousness which it
 
 134 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 implied of a knowledge exceeding that of those around her, 
 passed undiscovered by all except Jones, whose more vigi- 
 lant eye detected these symptoms of secret and mysterious 
 understanding. He made no remark, however, on the 
 subject; and carefully concealed his discovery, not only 
 from the rest of the party, but from her who was the ob- 
 ject of bis mental speculations. Having concluded his 
 serenade, or at least its first department, which consisted, 
 first, of a preliminary flourish on a violin, executed with 
 great spirit and felicity, and then of a song, ftccompanied 
 by the instrument, sung in a peculiarly deep-toned, but ex- 
 ceedingly melodious, voice, the minstrel ceased for a few 
 seconds, when Jones proposed that he should be invited in; 
 and that, if he proved merely a gallant, he should be asked 
 to a glass of wine; ixnd if he turned out a professional per- 
 former, who came in the exercise of his vocation, he should 
 be requested to entertain them with his music within-doors. 
 To this proposal a general assent was at once given; and 
 this assent was immediately followed by the proceeding 
 proper to its fulfilment. Three or four of the party, headed 
 by Jones, instantly rushed out, and surrounded the asto- 
 nished minstrel before he was aware. At first he discovered 
 symptoms of a desire to escape from the party; but, seeing 
 this impossible, he stood his ground manfully, and awaited, 
 the pleasure of the gentlemen, whose notice, he said, he 
 had the honour, it seemed, of so specially attracting. A 
 momentary glance at the speaker satisfied Jones and his 
 party of his quality. It was that of a professed street per- 
 former; or at least of a person of the humblest class, as. 
 was indicated by his apparel, which consisted of a short 
 cloak, with a sort of coarse jerkin underneath, a pair of 
 wide and ill-made knee-breeches, coarse blue woollen stock- 
 ings, and a pair of enormous wooden shoes. On his head 
 was a brown felt hat, of a conical shape, adorned with a 
 cock's feather, and altogether resembling those seen in
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY'S HOW. 135 
 
 paintings of Dutch boors. These outward indications, then, 
 settled the question of the minstrel's rank, and rendered no 
 ceremony necessary in inviting him in. 
 
 "You play well, friend," said Jones. "We have been 
 listening to you, and will be glad if you will come and 
 amuse us for half-an-hour or so. I will see to your being 
 suitably recompensed." 
 
 " Thank you, honourable sirs," replied the minstrel. " I 
 doubt not of my recompense, were it once earned; but the 
 hour is late, and I may not tarry abroad longer. Moreover, 
 I make it a rule never to enter any house, or to perform to 
 any private party within-doors. I bid you a good-night, 
 gentlemen." 
 
 " Nay, by my troth, and you do no such thing, friend," 
 said Jones, seizing the minstrel, who was at this moment 
 about making off, by the skirt of his jerkin. "We dont 
 part with good company in this way. Friends," he said, 
 addressing his companions, "lend a hand here, to secure 
 the fiddler. We must compel him to his own interest, 
 which he would thus wilfully neglect." 
 
 No sooner said than done. In a twinkling the reluctant 
 minstrel was grasped on all sides, and in an instant after 
 found himself in the centre of the kitchen of the Drouth- 
 sloken, to which he had been carried almost bodily, in de- 
 spite of a certain quantum of vain resistance and remon- 
 strance, by which he had at first endeavoured to thwart 
 the purpose of his captors. On being brought into the 
 light of the kitchen, it was discovered that the captured 
 fiddler and songster was deficient of an eye, at least of the 
 use of it, as it was covered by a large green shade, appa- 
 rently unnecessarily large, as it concealed the half of his 
 face. Another peculiarity was now also observable, and 
 this was, that the neck of his cloak was clasped at a most 
 extraordinary height up OR his face, and that he would by 
 no means listen to any entreaties, either to lay aside the
 
 136 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 said cloak, or even to unloosen the clasp by which it was 
 secured in so strange a position. We need scarcely add, 
 that the effect of these various dispositions of his externals 
 was to conceal almost entirely his countenance, of which 
 only a small portion of the left' side was visible; and even 
 this it was attempted to circumscribe as much as possible, 
 by the disposition of the hair of the head, which was care- 
 fully combed down over the exposed space. 
 
 "Come now, friend," said Jones, addressing the musician, 
 and handing him, at the same time, a huge brimmer of 
 wine, " gulp this with a celerity that shall be creditable to 
 thy craft, man, and let us have thereafter a taste of thy 
 calling some of thy merriest strains; for I mean to see if 
 we cannot make a dance of it, by the help of these fair 
 dames there" inclining his head towards the landlord's 
 daughters, who still kept their ground in the kitchen; al- 
 though, if the matter had been inquired into, we rather 
 fear they would have found some difficulty in naming the 
 particular duty that detained them. 
 
 Finding it of no use to resist the spirit which he saw pre- 
 vailed amongst the party, the minstrel quietly despatched 
 the contents of the goblet that had been presented to him, 
 and commenced the duty that had been imposed upon him. 
 On the first sound of the preliminary flourish of his bow be- 
 coming audible, Jones went up to the buxom daughters of 
 Mynheer Tromp, and in his most gallant manner asked them 
 if they would have any objection to take the floor with him 
 and his friends, seeing that they had unexpectedly made the 
 acquisition of an admirable musician, although, he must 
 confess, rather an odd-looking man; and Jones, as he made 
 the latter remark, looked slyly at Juliana, to mark its effect, 
 and found it acknowledged by a deep but transient blush, 
 which she endeavoured to conceal. 
 
 The proposal, however, of a dance was accepted on the 
 part of the younger sister, Joan, with eager alacrity; and
 
 THE LAIED OF LUCKY's HOW. 137 
 
 on the part of Juliana with an appearance of the same wil- 
 lingness, but with a confusion and hesitation of manner that 
 gave token of a counteracting feeling. Having obtained tho 
 consent of the fair sisters to " tread a measure," the gay 
 courtier took a hand of each, and gallantly led them to the 
 middle of the floor; intimating, at the same time, by signal, 
 to his friends to clear the space for the impending perform- 
 ancesa signal which they lost no time in obeying; two or 
 three seizing chairs apiece; and other two or three one of 
 whom was the laird, who seemed to enter with great good- 
 will into the spirit of the thing lifting the table, with all 
 it carried, to a distant corner of the apartment. 
 
 Just as these preparations were completed, and while 
 Jones stood in the middle of the floor, doing the polite to 
 his two ladies but directing his attentions most especially 
 to the elder their father, the jolly Vander Tromp, who had 
 been absent for a considerable time, entered the apartment, 
 when, perceiving what was going on 
 
 " All, very goot, very goot !" he said, in his most hilarious 
 manner his j oily, broad red face beaming with delight. ' ' A 
 daunce, a daunce ah, very goot thing a daunce" and he 
 cracked his finger and thumb, and threw up one of his huge 
 legs in the air, with an expression of highly-excited feeling. 
 Then, calming down a moment " You vill have no objec- 
 tion, Mynheer Jones, to my frow have share in the daunce 2" 
 
 "Objection, Tromp!" ejaculated Jones, with well-feigned 
 horror at the supposition. " By no means. I shall be but 
 too proud of the honour." 
 
 " An tank you, Mynheer Jones you are too goot." And 
 saying this, Vander Tromp disappeared, with another joy- 
 ous flourish of finger and thumb and left leg, in search of 
 Mrs Tromp, to conduct her into the presence of the dancers, 
 and to a share of their amusement. 
 
 In the meantime, the parties wre set, and the dance com- 
 menced with great vigour; Jones displaying in this exercise
 
 138 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 a degree of skill and grace in entire keeping with the refine- 
 ment of his general manner. His spirits, too, were exube- 
 rant, and infused a life into all around him, that all the other 
 circumstances combined could not have inspired. 
 
 Although by no means wanting in attention to the younger 
 lady, it might be observed, however, that Jones was much 
 more assiduous in his civilities to Juliana; and, what was 
 a yet more remarkable circumstance, it might also have 
 been observed, that the musician evinced a strange sensation 
 of uneasiness whenever he saw Jones paying any particular 
 attention to this lady. He fidgeted in his seat, bungled the 
 tune he was playing, and shot fiercer glances from his soli- 
 tary optic on the revellers on the floor, but most especially 
 on Jones and his fair favourite. What was odd, too, Jones 
 seemed to be aware of the feeling he was exciting in the 
 sensitive fiddler, and to delight in the uneasiness he was 
 occasioning; for the more markedly it was evinced, the 
 more assiduous and persevering was he in his gallantries. 
 Although, however, all this might have been sufficiently 
 evident to a close and vigilant observer, it escaped the no- 
 tice of those present; for Jones managed his secret tactics, 
 whatever these were, with great caution, and exhibited no 
 other symptoms of consciousness than a slight, scarcely per- 
 ceptible, smile of sly intelligence. 
 
 We have said that none present were cognisant of this 
 mysterious understanding, or rather misunderstanding, be- 
 tween Jones and the musician; but we are not sure that this 
 is quite correct. There was an air of embarrassment about 
 the manner of the fair Juliana, that seemed to indicate that 
 she was also in possession of some share of the secret know- 
 ledge that was working so much underhand mischief; and 
 of this Jones appeared likewise to be aware. 
 
 Thus stood matters, then, with this trio, when Vander 
 Tromp and his wife the former leading the latter on his 
 arm came tripping mto the kitchen, with the grace and
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY'S HOW. 139 
 
 agility of a couple of elephants; for the worthy spouse of the 
 worthy landlord of the Drouthsloken was, like himself, of 
 the regular Dutch build, and had very much the shape and 
 appearance of a featherbed upon legs, if such an object can 
 be conceived. Her breadth, which was naturally of the most 
 formidable dimensions, was greatly increased by a stiff silk 
 gown, which projected in rigid amplitude on all sides, and 
 gave to her whole person an appearance of illimitable 
 expanse. Notwithstanding these vast dimensions, there 
 was yet a comeliness about her bulk, and an expression of 
 benevolence and good-nature in her rosy countenance, that 
 rendered her altogether by no means an unpleasing object. 
 
 On the entrance of mine host and his larger as well as 
 better half, Jones, with that gallant devotion which seemed 
 natural to him, instantly advanced towards the latter, and, 
 with a preliminary flourish of some of his most graceful 
 obeisances, in which, perhaps, a very shrewd observer 
 might have discovered a slight tincture of mock gallantry, 
 invited her to join him in the next dance. The large lady, 
 with a good-humoured smile, curtsied a ready acquiescence 
 to. the polite invitation; and, in the next instant, might bo 
 seen sailing majestically through the mazes of the dance, 
 closely attended by her respectful and devoted partner. 
 
 In the meantime, the unwilling musician seemed heartily 
 tired of his employment, and looked as if he would have 
 given a trifle not only to have got quit of that employment, 
 but to have got out of the house altogether. Jones, how- 
 ever, was inexorable; and the more marked the fiddler's im- 
 patience became, the more unmercifully did he deal out his 
 orders to "play up;" and much did he seem to delight, al- 
 though he kept the satisfaction to himself, in the grin of 
 irritation which his commands never failed to produce on 
 the countenance of the hapless musician. Leaving, then, 
 the general position of matters in the kitchen of the Drouth- 
 sicken in this state, we shall resume the particular history
 
 140 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 of the laird's proceedings, which we fear the reader may 
 think we have already too long neglected. 
 
 Of the ongoings of the evening the laird, who was now 
 pretty well in the wind, was an attentive, but by no means 
 a silent, spectator. In the enthusiasm which the proceed- 
 ings passing before him had excited, he had mounted a chair, 
 and from that elevated position was whooping, and yelling, 
 and shouting, and clapping his hands at once to express 
 his own delight in the performances, and to encourage the 
 performers. 
 
 "That's it, my bonny lassie!" he screamed out, address- 
 ing the younger Tromp, whose agility particularly pleased 
 him. "'Od ye're just doin amazinly! That's it! Kilt yer 
 coats, ye cutty, and skelp at it withouten fear or dread'' 
 That's the true way to mak a figure on a flure !" 
 
 " Feth, no amiss, guidwife, no amiss ava," he said, and 
 now addressing himself to the better half of mine host of 
 the Drouthsloken, who was heaving like a seventy-four in 
 a ground-swell "no amiss ava, considerin the wecht ye 
 carry. Ye're just doin wonderfu, too, to be sae broad in 
 the beam. My word, but ye are a sonsy lass," he conti- 
 nued, his attention gradually directing itself to a contem- 
 plation of her personal dimensions. "If ye're an unce, ye're 
 twenty stane, quarry wecht; and everybody kens that's no 
 scrimpit." 
 
 " Weel dune, Jones ! weel dune, lad ! Hoo, hurrah ! up 
 wi't ! Ye've a pair o' guid souple shanks o' your ain. That's 
 it, lad that's it ! Up wi't! Hoo, hurrah, hurrah!" 
 
 And the laird clapped his hands with a vigour and energy 
 that emitted a sound more like the contact of a pair of boards 
 than human palms; and accompanying this expression of 
 heartiness of feeling with whoops and shouts, that drowned 
 the noise of both feet and fiddle. 
 
 Impartial in the distribution of his praises, the laird now 
 directed his compliments to the various other members of
 
 THE LAIED OF LUCKY's HOW. 141 
 
 the dancing party, severally, and finished with mine host 
 himself. 
 
 " Unco weel, laird, unco weel," he exclaimed, addressing 
 that worthy performer. " Eeally, unco weel ! ye've a won- 
 derfu licht foot to hae sic a heavy stern. That's it, laird ! 
 Up wi' the left leg ! capital, capital ! " And again the laird 
 clapped his hands, and again raised his tremendous war- 
 whoop. 
 
 Hitherto the dancers had paid no particular attention to 
 the laird's noisy expressions of interest in their proceedings; 
 but they so highly tickled Mr Jones, that, on the conclu- 
 sion of the dance, he came laughing up to the laird, and 
 asked him if he would not take a turn on the floor on the 
 next occasion. 
 
 " No, thank ye, Mr Jones," replied the latter; " my dancin 
 days are weel aboot owre now; but, though the flesh is weak, 
 the spirit's willin, and, to mak mysel as guid company as 
 possible, I'll tak a screed o' the fiddle an ye like; for I'm 
 mair souple aboot the elbows than the ankles now-a-days, 
 and, besides, I dinna think that fallow puts the richt smed- 
 dum in his tunes. They're awfu draicky, and no like our 
 Scotch measures, that mak ye fling your legs aboot like' 
 flails, till ye dinna ken whether your heels or your head's 
 uppermost." 
 
 "Ah ha, very fair, laird," replied Jones, laughing; "and 
 although I have reasons for keeping all relief from the fiddler 
 as long as possible, I am so curious to hear your perform- 
 ance, that I, for my part, consent to your taking a turn of 
 his instrument, provided he will allow you." 
 
 "We'll try him," replied the laird, briefly, and at the 
 same time stepping down from his high place, and there- 
 after proceeding with Jones towards the musician of the 
 evening, in order to offer his services in the way of assist- 
 ing him. 
 
 " Friend," said Jones to the one-eyed minstrel, while thfr
 
 142 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 laird stood behind, or rather beside him, waiting the result 
 of his application "friend, have you any objection to be 
 relieved a little in your labours? Here is a brother musician, 
 who would gladly take a turn with you, provided you would 
 favour him with the loan of your instrument." 
 
 The only reply of the fiddler -was a sullen, dissentient 
 growl; for he was as averse to speaking as to exposing his 
 countenance. 
 
 "What! won't you lend our friend here your fiddle?" 
 said Jones, now bursting out into a fit of suppressed laugh- 
 ter, which seemed, from its heartiness, and the relief which 
 it evidently afforded him, to have been long pent up. " Do, 
 man, do you had better do. Til be much obliged to you" 
 with marked emphasis on the pronoun, which he further 
 increased by a gentle but significant tread on the toe of the 
 perplexed minstrel, who, after returning the secret intima- 
 tion of Jones by a smile and an intelligent leer of his open 
 eye, handed the fiddle to the laird without saying a word. 
 
 The incident which we have just described was unob- 
 served by any other party but those concerned in it; or, at 
 least, if it was observed, it was not understood; and in this 
 predicament also stood he who had the best opportunity 
 of seeing it namely, the laird. He saw all that passed be- 
 tween Jones and the fiddler; but he could not make out 
 what it meant; nor did he seem to concern himself about 
 discovering it. Having got the fiddle into his possession, 
 the laird commenced tuning it with great assiduity, and 
 with a bow stroke that showed he was well practised in the 
 use of the instrument. The tuning effected to his mind, he 
 struck up, with great vigour, a ranting Scotch reel, which 
 he played with uncommon spirit and skill. At first, the 
 novelty of the measure took the greater part of the audience 
 by surprise. For a time they could make nothing of it; 
 but music being a universal language, both the spirit and 
 rhythm of the tune soon began to be perceived and appre-
 
 THE LAIKD OF LUCKY'S HOW. 143 
 
 elated; and, with a little schooling from Jones, who seemed 
 not only to understand the music, but to be delighted with 
 it, the dancers were placed in the order of a reel; and, by a 
 vigilant superintendence of their motions on the part of the 
 latter, they contrived to get through the figure with tole- 
 rable correctness. All were delighted with the new dance. 
 It was repeated again and again, and every time with in- 
 creased success, and a diminishing necessity for the inter- 
 ference of Jones, who, having entered fully into the spirit 
 of the mirthful train, whooped and yelled as vociferously 
 as ever the laird had done. His enthusiasm was infectious; 
 all caught it even the broad-beamed wife of Vander Tromp, 
 who moved under the inspiring influence of the laird's bow 
 with an agility that no one could have believed her ponde- 
 rous person capable of; while the others, including mine 
 portly host himself, flung, and flew, and shuffled, as madly 
 as the witches in the midnight dance in Alloway Kirk. 
 The spell, in short, of the laird's music was complete, and 
 each owned the hilarious spirit which it was so well calculated 
 to diffuse over all who were within reach of its influence 
 in other words, over all who were within hearing of the 
 laird's admirably-played riddle. Inspired with additional 
 glee by these indications of the powerful effect of his music, 
 the laird still further heightened its influence by breaking 
 out, as he played, into short, abrupt shouts, which were re- 
 sponded to, from time to time, by the male dancers, but 
 with most especial emphasis by Jones, who seemed to be, 
 altogether, at the very acme of human enjoyment. 
 
 It was while the revellers were thus dinning the drowsy 
 ear of night with their obstreperous mirth, and while they 
 were yet in the full career of enjoyment, that four persons 
 suddenly entered the kitchen of the Drouthsloken. They 
 were in the garb of seamen, wearing large, shaggy pea- 
 jackets, and low, round-crowned, glazed hats, with circular 
 flaps proj eeting behind. Although, however, all were dressed
 
 144 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 nearly alike, there was one who evidently took the lead 
 amongst them. He was a young man, and had an air of 
 authority in his manner to which the rest seemed to pay 
 deference. Some differences, too, in his outer habiliments, 
 notwithstanding of the general resemblance that prevailed 
 in this particular, pointed him out as of a superior grade to 
 the others. This person was not unknown to the inmates 
 of the house. He was recognised as Captain Hagedorn of 
 the Jungfrau of Eotterdam a man of fierce, irascible tem- 
 per, and an ardent, although not very acceptable, admirer 
 of Juliana. On his entrance, therefore, he was immediately 
 greeted as an acquaintance by Tromp, his wife, and their 
 two daughters by Juliana, however, with an evident con- 
 fusion and embarrassment of manner. To these greetings, 
 Hagedorn vouchsafed the return only of a surly and unin- 
 telligible muttering, while he proceeded to provide himself 
 with a chair, on which he placed himself directly opposite 
 the one-eyed minstrel, at whom he threw, from time to 
 time, looks of the most malignant ferocity. 
 
 All, especially Juliana, who had reasons for fearing the 
 worst, seemed impressed with the belief that the fellow was 
 bent on mischief, and that he had come there for the es- 
 pecial purpose. Of this they were more convinced, on ob- 
 serving the brass-tipped sheaths of cutlasses projecting from 
 beneath the pea-jackets of the intruders. Their fears were 
 not long of being realised. 
 
 " Tromp," said Hagedorn (we take the liberty of trans- 
 lating, in this, and all other similar cases), " I thought you 
 kept a regular, decent house. Such is the character you 
 pretend to, at any rate." 
 
 "And such," replied Tromp, with a blush of honest in- 
 dignation, " is the character I maintain. Who shall gain- 
 Bay it?" 
 
 "Why, there are some things going on here to-night that 
 don't look much like it," replied Hagedorn. " Know ye,
 
 THE LAIRD OF LUCKY' S HOW. 145 
 
 Tromp, or does Juliana know, who this one-eyed gallant 
 is?" pointing to the late serenader. 
 
 " Whether they do or not, they shall soon know, and so 
 shall you to your cost, Hagedorn!" replied the minstrel, 
 starting to his feet, and hastily stripping off the disguise, 
 eye-patch and all, in which he was enveloped; a proceeding 
 which discovered to the astonished onlookers not, how- 
 ever, including either Jones or Juliana, who had a previous 
 knowledge of his identity a tall, handsome, gentlemanly- 
 looking young man, well known as Sir Lionel Musgrave, 
 one of the gayest and most respected of those English gen- 
 tlemen who shared the misfortunes and exile of Charles II. 
 during the existence of the Commonwealth. 
 
 "Ha!" said Hagedorn, starting to his feet, on Musgrave 
 discovering himself. "So, I have unearthed the f6x, eh!" 
 And, as he spoke, he made a grasp at Musgrave's throat; 
 which the latter evaded by adroitly stepping back a pace, 
 when he instantly drew his sword and made a pass at Hage- 
 dorn, who, however, skilfully warded it off with his cutlass, 
 to which he had had recourse the moment he missed his 
 hold of his antagonist. These proceedings were, of course, 
 a signal to all the other men in the apartment to muster on 
 their respective sides; and this they instantly did. Hage- 
 dorn's men immediately drew; Jones and his party did the 
 same; and the women ran screaming from the scene of the 
 impending contest. In one instant after, a general melde com- 
 menced. There were deep oaths, overturning of tables, and 
 clashing of swords in every direction, and all the other cha- 
 racteristics of a tremendous and very serious hubbub. Blows, 
 too, were not wanting. They fell thick and fast on all sides. 
 
 Hitherto our friend the laird had remained an idle, but 
 sufficiently-astonished spectator of the strange and sudden 
 scene that had been thus brought before his visual organs. 
 Though an idle, he was not altogether, however, a mute 
 witness of the proceedings that were going forward. 
 
 2
 
 146 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 " 'Od ! this is a queer business !" he muttered to himself. 
 " Wha on earth wad hae thocht that yon blin-ee'd, broken- 
 doon-lookin soul o' a fiddler wad hae turned oot a braw 
 young swanky like that? N"a, na, that'll no do," suddenly 
 added the laird, and now referring to the circumstance of 
 Jones being hard pressed by two of the intruders. " Twa 
 on ane that'll never do." And the laird looked around 
 him for some weapon wherewith he might compensate the 
 odds against his friend. Nothing of this kind more efficient 
 than the tongs presenting itself, the laird leaped down from 
 the table on which he had been perched in the quality oi 
 musician, and, seizing the afore-mentioned instrument by. 
 the feet, advanced upon the foe, shouting, " Stan to them, 
 Jones! stan to them, lad! till I gie them a taste o' the 
 tangs!" And, in the same instant, he discharged a blow 
 at the head of one of Jones' assailants that laid him sense- 
 less on the floor. Finding his first effort so successful, the 
 laird repeated the experiment on the prostrate man's com- 
 panion with precisely the same result. Down he went also 
 with a fractured skull. "That's the way!" shouted the 
 laird, now greatly excited by his own destructive exertions; 
 " ca' them down like nine-pins ! Soop them aff the face o' 
 the ycarth!" 
 
 At this moment, the laird's lo Paeans were interrupted 
 by the entrance of a party of the town-guard, whom Tromp 
 had summoned to his aid. These immediately seized on 
 the intruders, as they were pointed out by the latter the 
 fallen men having so far recovered as to be now sitting up, 
 although evidently sick and giddy from the effects of the 
 laird's blows, and looking, as he said himself, " unco white 
 aboot the gills" and marched them off to the guard-house, 
 to answer in due time to the judicial authorities of the city 
 for the breach of the peace of which they had been guilty. 
 
 On the kitchen of the Drouthsloken being cleared of the 
 enemy, an investigation into the extent of personal injury
 
 THE LAIED OF LUCKY'iB ROW. 147 
 
 sustained took place, when it was found that this was, after 
 all, very trivial, consisting only of two or three slight flesh 
 wounds, of which Musgrave bore two, and one or two others 
 one apiece. - 
 
 "And now, laird," said Jones, addressing the latter, 
 "what share of the honours have you got?" 
 
 " Deil a scratch," replied the laird. " Feth, I didna gie 
 them time for that. I didna stan whilly-whain wi' them, 
 wi' a bit shabble in my haun, as ye a' did, but gied them 
 richt knock-me-doon thuds at ance sent them owre like 
 stots, ane after the ither. Feth ! commen me to a pair o' 
 tangs in a kitchen row. It maks clean wark. I'll think 
 mair o' them as a weapon, baith o' offence and defence, than 
 ever I did." 
 
 " In such hands as yours, laird, they certainly are a suf- 
 ficiently-formidable weapon. Had it it not been for them 
 and you together, I would scarce have got off so scatheless 
 as I have done. I owe you a good turn, and it shall not be 
 forgotten. I promised you an introduction to the king; 
 and I shall not only fulfil that promise, but, as my word 
 goes a long way with him, I shall give such an account of 
 you as, I answer for it, will insure you a favourable recep- 
 tion, and probably procure you some still more substantial 
 tokens of his regard." 
 
 "On, thank ye, sir, thank ye," said the lairdj but I 
 dinna see that I hae dune onything the nicht that should 
 entitle me to ony special favour frae his most gracious 
 Majesty. What interest can he possibly hae in a kitchen 
 collyshangy like this?" 
 
 " More than you're aware- of, perhaps, lairdj but never 
 mind that in the meantime. Here comes Tromp, to read 
 us a lecture, I daresay, on the evening's occurrences, al- 
 though it was none of our fault either. Ha, Musgrave, my 
 spark!" continued Jones, and now turning to that gallant 
 "didst think I couldn't have known thee? 'Od's fish,
 
 148 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 man, I would have known the cut of thy jib, although thou 
 hadst been sewn in a sack," 
 
 " Faith, your " A wink from Jones prevented the 
 
 word that was about to follow. The wink was understood. 
 "Faith, my friend," said Musgrave, laughing, "to tell a 
 truth, I had no idea you were here. It was intended for a 
 stolen march to see whether I could not win my wager, 
 by cutting ye out in the good graces of our landlord's fair 
 daughter July." The conversation between Jones and Mus- 
 grave was here interrupted by the approach of Tromp, who 
 came not, as the latter had suspected, to complain of what 
 had occurred, but merely to request that the gentlemen 
 would now retire, as it was getting late, and as his house- 
 hold was in a state of great alarm and confusion, in conse- 
 quence of. what had taken place. 
 
 The request was too respectfully made, and in itself too 
 reasonable, to admit of the smallest objection. The party 
 immediately donned their hats and cloaks, when Jones, tak- 
 ing the laird by the hand, told him to remain where he was 
 for the night, and that he would wait upon him on the fol- 
 lowing morning to conduct him to the king. 
 
 Agreeably to his promise, early in the forenoon of the fol- 
 lowing day, Jones, attended by a gay band of cavaliers, en- 
 tered the apartment in which the laird was at breakfast. 
 
 "Oh, Mr Jones, hoo are ye?" said the latter, rising from 
 his seat on the entrance of the former. " I'm sure this is- 
 very guid o' ye. Nane the waur o' the bit stramash we had 
 last nicht, I hope?" 
 
 " Oh ! not a bit, not a bit, kind thanks to you for that, 
 laird," replied Jones. "Now, my friend," continued the 
 latter, " I am better than my word: I promised to bring you 
 to the king; instead of this, I have brought the king to 
 you. Any objection, laird, to take me for your lawful, but 
 unfortunate king] I am Charles," he said, in a tone of 
 more earnest emphasis.
 
 THE LAIED OF LUCKY's HOW. 149 
 
 Need we describe the laird's amazement at this astound- 
 ing disclosure 1 We need not. The reader will conceive it. 
 Although he looked unutterable things, all that he said 
 was 
 
 'Gude prowrve me! is that a fact?" pronounced in the 
 slow, deliberate tone of overwhelming and perplexed amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 The sequel of our tale is soon told. Charles settled a 
 email pension on the laird all that his circumstances at the 
 time would afford on which he lived for several 'years at 
 the Hague. He subsequently found his way back to Scot- 
 land, the distracted state of the king's affairs preventing the 
 regular payment of his pension. In the meantime, years 
 rolled on, and changes took place, and amongst these came 
 the Restoration. Charles was restored to the throne of his 
 ancestors. On this throne the monarch had not been many 
 days seated, when he was informed by one of the pages in 
 waiting that they had been much annoyed by an old grey- 
 headed Scotchman, with a large flat blue bonnet on his head, 
 insisting on admission to His Majesty's presence. 
 
 "Did he give his name 1 ?" replied the monarch. 
 
 "He did, please your majesty," replied the page; "he 
 said he was sure that, if we would inform your majesty that 
 it was the Laird of Lucky's How who sought admission, your 
 majesty would instantly grant him an audience. 
 
 " He was right," said Charles, smiling. " I recollect the 
 honest man well Admit him next time he presents him- 
 self." 
 
 The laird came, was admitted, and was received with a 
 most cordial welcome by the good-natured monarch. They 
 talked over the occurrences of the evening they had spent 
 in the kitchen of the Drouthsloken; and the laird was finally 
 dismissed, with a promise, shortly afterwards redeemed, of 
 his being reinstated in his patrimonial lands. To this other 
 gratuities were added, to an amount that amply compea-
 
 1BO TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 sated him, as he often himself said, for all that he had suf- 
 fered in the royal cause. Some will say, perhaps, and with 
 too much truth, that Charles was not so grateful to all his 
 friends; but, in the present instance, we have only to do 
 with the case of the Laird of Lucky's How.
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 151 
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 THE farm of Kelpiehaugh, at a short distance from Lessud- 
 den, was, at an early period of the St Boswell's meetings, 
 occupied by Giles Eamsay a man who, as often happens 
 in Scotland, was not loth to admit that " his grey mare was 
 the better horse." He liked the philosophy of the old 
 ballad quoted by Shakspere, and received it as a general 
 maxim, that " nought's to be had at a woman's hand " un- 
 less, in every case, " ye gie her a' the plea." And, verily, 
 Matty did not love him the worse for his correct notions of 
 woman-kind, though, as for anything like gratitude for his 
 easy submission to her entire authority, she knew nothing 
 of the sentiment, if she did not heartily despise it. The 
 reason was indeed plain enough; for she had the capacity 
 to know that, whatever superiority nature intended her hus- 
 band should possess over her, in his character of one of the 
 lords of the creation, he had none whatever in the capacity 
 of her husband. In this there was a secret which she com- 
 municated to no one; and that was simply, that Giles was, 
 in all respects, a stupid, simple, honest " cudden," and she 
 was one of the cleverest dames that ever made a good- 
 natured husband cry " baiiafummil " in a matrimonial skir- 
 mish. Yet, with all the guidwife's cleverness, she had not 
 been able either to prevent Giles from getting behind with 
 his rent the more by token as, we fancy, that Kelpie- 
 haugh was too dear or to get "the glaikit hizzy," Mary, 
 her daughter, well buckled to a canny laird, who might 
 help them to pay up their arrears. The first was clearly 
 no marvel; but the second might have been termed some
 
 152 ' TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 what extraordinary, seeing the young woman was as fair 
 as DowsabelL 
 
 Something as regarded the rent depended upon the next 
 sale of cattle at St Boswell's, for which honest Giles had 
 ready six as good stirks as ever grazed on a green lea; and 
 it was arranged between him and the better partner of the 
 matrimonial firm, that he must get six pounds for every 
 head of them, otherwise he might have small chance for 
 " love's roundelay " on his return. 
 
 "It will mak thirty-six pounds, Giles, said Matty; "and 
 that will enable us to pay up ten pounds o' oor arrears." 
 
 "And what will I get for a superplus o' a pound a-head 
 on them?" said Giles. 
 
 " The liberty to buy a new gown for Mary," replied she, 
 " that we may try to get her aff at the next fair. But, if ye 
 sell them for a pound less, I rede ye to seek a quieter bield 
 for your hame than Kelpiehaugh will be on your return." 
 
 And so primed, old Giles set off with his six stirks to St 
 Boswell's. He arrived at the green, and exposed his bestial 
 in the most favourable manner he could; but he found that 
 Matty's price did not accord with the humour of the buyers, 
 who probably thpught proper to judge for themselves in the 
 question of value. The time passed, and Giles saw before 
 him nothing but the necessity of driving the stirks back 
 again to Kelpiehaugh an operation he by no means relished. 
 As he stood musing on the apparently forlorn hope of a 
 customer, an old man, much bent, with a grey beard, and 
 a patch over his left eye as big as the blind of him of forg- 
 ing celebrity, " Blackpatch " himself, came up to him, and 
 at once offered him eight pounds a-head for his stock. The 
 old farmer wondered, smiled, and accepted. The bargain 
 was struck, and forty-eight good pounds were instauter 
 placed in the hands of the seller. 
 
 " Now I have a favour to ask of you, good Mr Pamsay," 
 said th< buyer.
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 153 
 
 ** It will be an unreasonable request I winna grant to ane 
 wha has gien me my ain price," replied the farmer. " What 
 is't?" 
 
 " That you will drive the cattle home to Kelpiehaugh, and 
 keep them there at my risk and cost till I send for them," 
 said the other. 
 
 " Granted, and wi' thanks," said the fanner. 
 
 " I have another favour to ask," said the other. 
 
 " As mony's ye like, sir, if they're a' o' a kind," answered 
 the farmer, smiling. " Out wi't." 
 
 "That you'll give me a bed at Kelpiehaugh to-night," 
 said the old man. " I have a distance to ride, and would 
 fain halve the stage, by making your house a half-way rest- 
 ing-place. 
 
 " Of a surety, sir," replied the farmer; "ye'll hae the best 
 bed and the best victuals Kelpiehaugh can boast o', and nae 
 boast after a', though Matty, I am proud to say, kens hussy- 
 skep as weel as ony woman in a' the shirradom. Will ye 
 gang wi' me, or come yersel?" 
 
 " I will come by myself," said the buyer. " I have some 
 other aifairs to settle before the fair breaks up, and it may 
 be later than your time before I have finished." 
 
 The matter being thus arranged, the two parted. Giles 
 was anxious to know who his customer was; but no one 
 could tell anything of him, and the hour getting forward to 
 the gloaming, he set off again for his farm, with his forty- 
 eight pounds in his pocket, and the cattle before him. On 
 his approaching Kelpiehaugh, Matty, along with her fair 
 daughter, was at the door, waiting for him. It was now 
 dark; but she could hear his voice in articulations which 
 pleased her not. " Hey ! hey ! yaud ! yaud ! " and then came 
 the sound of a thwack on the backs of the lazy troop he was 
 driving before him. 
 
 " And ye've brought them back again, ye sorry simple- 
 ton?" cried the wife.
 
 154 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 The husband answered nothing, but continued thumping 
 at the nolt with his "hey," and "yaud," and "phew" 
 every ejaculation having the effect of an objurgatory attack 
 on the dame herself. 
 
 " Ay, ay," she cried, " thump them and drive them into 
 the shed, Giles, that they may be ready for the roup o' our 
 plenishing and stocking. The auctioneer's hammer will 
 knock them down wi' mair pith than that rung ye are using, 
 wi' a' the spite o' an angry disappointed man, wha couldna 
 mak a sale o' his ain kye." 
 
 Her cutting words had still no effect upon the good- 
 natured farmer, who continued his operations till he got the 
 six steers safely lodged in their shed. He then came into the 
 house quietly, and, with a "heigh-ho, that job's weel owre," 
 sat him down by the side of the fire, opposite to his wife 
 and daughter. For some minutes there was silence in the 
 house of Kelpiehaugh; the reason whereof was that Matty's 
 authority was for once apparently disregarded, or set at 
 naught, by the apparent absence of all tokens of fear and 
 contrition on the part of her mate. She had already indi- 
 cated sufficiently her sense of his stupidity, and given him 
 a peremptory notice of what he might expect for the next 
 half-year to come; yet there was he, against all custom, and 
 ail the laws of marital subordination, sitting as easy and 
 comfortable as if he merited her praise and deserved her 
 blessing. She could only look daggers at him, with occa- 
 sionally an expression of staring wonder at a nonchalance 
 that disproved twenty years of authority. 
 
 " Is there naething in Kelpiehaugh for its master to eat 
 or drink?" said he, at last, in a calm, soft voice. " A hard 
 day's wark deserves something at e'en." 
 
 "Is he adding impertinence to his folly?" thought the 
 dame, as she sat doggedly silent and immoveable. 
 
 " Come, Mary," added he; " since Matty will gie us nae- 
 thing, rise, lassie, and gie vow: father the best that's in the
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 155 
 
 house, and, by way o' bribe, here's a new gown to ye the 
 bonniest and brawest I could find at St Boswell's." 
 
 The girl started up and laid hold of the dress. The bright 
 hues glared on her eyes. The dame cast a side-eye on the 
 gaudy article. 
 
 " Waur and waur, Giles," she ejaculated. " Are ye mad, 
 man? What, in the name o' a' that's guid or ill, possessed 
 ye ? Will that gown pay our rent ? " 
 
 " Maybe it may," rejoined Giles. " Mary's the bonniest 
 lass on this side o' the Tweed, and beauty's nae waur o' 
 being weel buskit. It may bring her a husband wha'll pay 
 our rent; and, if it doesna, there's nae skaith, seeing we may 
 yet be able to do it oursels." 
 
 "The man's, as mad as a March hare, or a gled-stung 
 quey," cried Matty. 
 
 " But am I to get nae supper, Matty?" rejoined he, with 
 the same calmness. 
 
 "The deil a ,)i. " ejaculated the dame. 
 
 " Maybe this may bribe ye," said he, as he pulled out of 
 another pocket a gown-piece, as bright as the other, for his 
 beloved spouse. 
 
 The charm had no power, save that of increasing the won- 
 der of the dame; and the statement which immediately fol- 
 lowed, that there was a stranger to be entertained at Kel- 
 piehaugh that night, roused her still farther. It was not 
 till she began to look more narrowly into the face of her 
 husband, that she observed a dry humour about him, that 
 might be anything but the result of an unsuccessful attempt 
 to dispose of his bestial, and, going up to him, she shook him 
 heartily by the shoulders. 
 
 " Come, come, Giles," she said, " there's a secret at the 
 bottom o' a' this, and maybe this may explain it." 
 
 And, seizing his pocket-book, she opened it, and pulled 
 forth the bunch of notes. They were counted on the in- 
 stant, and the eyes of the dame brightened up at every ad-
 
 156 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 dition to the calculation. The farmer explained all, and, in 
 the course of his narration, Matty's wonder waxed great 
 again. She was not altogether satisfied. She looked at the 
 notes, to see that they were not forged; glanced at Giles; 
 fell into a brown study; looked at Mary; hemmed and 
 heyed; and began to make preparations for the stranger. In 
 about an hour afterwards, the old customer arrived, was 
 ushered in to the fire, and took his seat, while Giles went 
 to look to the putting-up of his horse, which, he observed, 
 was as clever and clean-limbed a creature as that which car- 
 ried the " fair ladye " and " true Thomas " over the Eilclon 
 Hills. The supper was, in the meantime, in the act of being 
 served up. The old man coughed and told stories, Mary 
 listened, and Matty eyed her guest with a peculiar expres- 
 sion, which made him rub his beard, cough more and more, 
 and retire farther into the recess which he had taken pos- 
 session of. Nor would the supper draw him forth; for he 
 said he had supped before he came, yet had he no objection 
 to drink the ale which Matty handed him, and was as merry 
 as an old man might be, who had seen so many summers as 
 his beard betokened. Many a thing they talked of, but 
 they all concerned the farmer, and his wife and daughter; 
 for the never a word would he say of himself, either as to 
 what he was, or where he lived the dry skeleton of a name, 
 Mr Farquharson, being all he gratified them with, while, in 
 return, he asked so much of the condition and doings of his 
 host and family, that one might have thought he intended 
 either to pay their arrears of rent, or marry the daughter, 
 at the very least. The supper, of which he partook not, 
 being done, he said he wished not to put them about in 
 their arrangements, and would be very well pleased to lie in 
 the small bed behind him, unless that weue set apart for 
 some other of the family. 
 
 " That ye may weel hae, sir,* said Matty on the instant, 
 " if ye hae a fancy to it A sma' reward for the guid prica
 
 IKE ABDUCTION. 157 
 
 ye gae for the cattle. Mary can sleep for a nicht in the 
 kitchen for Jenny is at St Boswell's, and \vinna be hame 
 before the morn." 
 
 " You will have only one night's trouble of me," replied 
 the old man; " but you may have more of the cattle eight 
 at least and I think I will better pay you beforehand, Mr 
 Ramsay, that there may be no mistake when the men come 
 to take them away." 
 
 And he put into the farmer's hand three times the sum 
 he would have demanded for the keeping of the steers. 
 The farmer would have refused the money, but Matty, 
 whose by-play all along had been unnoticed by her hus- 
 band, pinched him on the arm, and the words of rejection 
 died away in his mouth. The parties afterwards retired to 
 bed, leaving the strange visiter in the apartment allotted 
 to him. 
 
 "I never did a better day's wark, guidwife," said the 
 farmer to his partner, when they went up-stairs. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! man, ye dinna ken what ye have done," 
 replied she; and the next moment she was busy whispering 
 something in the ear of the farmer. He started instantly, 
 cried, "Impossible, impossible!" and stood for a moment in 
 dismay and consternation. But Matty gave him no time 
 for thought. She was again busy with his ear; and the next 
 exhibition he made was of an opposite character a strange 
 expression was upon his face, and he slapped her upon the 
 back in the extravagance of a feeling that, whether betokening 
 good-humour or not, seemed to have no bounds. In a short 
 time, the house was as quiet as Grimalkin himself could 
 have wished it, when bent on a hunting foray. All had ap- 
 parently gone to bed, and the stillness continued till consi- 
 derably after midnight. A slow tap at the kitchen-door 
 showed that one individual at least was astir. 
 
 "Mary, Mary, are you awake?" said a voice, that at least 
 was uninterrupted by a cough.
 
 158 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 The answer was a whisper from within. After some 
 parley, the door was opened, and a series of secret doings, 
 among which the opening of the outer door of the house, 
 a recourse to the stable, the saddling of the fleet horse, 
 and other furtive preparations for a departure, were the 
 most important. During all this time, the figure of a 
 female wrapped in a cloak stood in the recess of the door. 
 The horse was quietly walked to the loan, and the mantled 
 figure glided as secretly as a ghost, who knows that the 
 pimp Gallus will shortly awaken, to the starting-post. 
 One swing brought her to the pad, and another placed be- 
 fore her one whom the light of the faint moon exhibited 
 without a bend in his body or beard on his chin. Away 
 they set 
 
 " On, on they rade, and farther on 
 
 The steed gaed swifter than the wind 
 Until they reach'd a desert wide, 
 
 And living land was left behind." 
 
 Not a word passed between the couple. The one was 
 occupied spurring on the steed, and the other clung to him, 
 as if love had nerved her arms, and made them as tena- 
 cious of the grasp of his waist as Lenora, of German cele- 
 brity, was of the soulless body of her Wilhelm. Sometimes 
 lie slackened his pace, to ascertain whether the guidman 
 of Kelpiehaugh was up and away in quest of runaway 
 bride, like the Graemes after the heiress of Netherby, over 
 Cannobie-lee; and then, when he thought he heard the 
 clatter of a horse's hoof, he applied the spur again, and 
 away they went, over moss and muir, with such speed as 
 love and fear in the rider may alone impart to the obedient 
 steed. At other times, the space of a few minutes was de- 
 voted to soft whispers, and the gallant pressed the encir- 
 cling arms of his fair one, and sighed as he felt her embrace 
 as tight as a lover's heart could wish. He was as happy as 
 one who is on the verge of the enjoyment of stolen pleasures
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 159 
 
 an be in a world where lawful indulgences had no zest for 
 him; and he turned his head for the muffled kiss, which 
 was granted as freely as any rieving lover, even Lochinvar 
 himself or Jock o' Hazeldean, could have desired. Nor 
 less was he pleased with the pressure of her fair arms, 
 which accompanied or followed the other demonstrations 
 of her affection, and the speed of his steed, now safe, as he 
 thought himself, from all pursuit, was quickened, that he 
 might reach the goal, where all the joys of a long-sighed-for 
 possession awaited him. At length he gave his horse breath- 
 ing-time, and, taking himself a long inspiration 
 
 " When, think ye, Mary," said he, " I will send for the 
 six steers I purchased from your father yesterday?" 
 
 "Maybe never, Eobert," was the whispered reply. 
 
 " You say right, love. It was never my intention," said 
 he. " I thought it but fair to leave old Giles some consi- 
 deration for his daughter." 
 
 A squeeze was the expression of the gratitude felt by the 
 female for the boon so generously bestowed on the farmer 
 of Kelpiehaugh. 
 
 " Was I known, think ye ?" he continued. " I liked not 
 the sharp eye of your mother. By my faith! I quailed 
 under it. The devil an ancient carlin duenna in an old 
 romance ever observed so sharp a look-out for the safety of 
 her ward. But, ha ! ha ! Mary, we have outwitted the old 
 dame, and let her catch us now, if she can. We want only 
 two miles of Langholm, and then, hey ! hey ! and be merry, 
 as the song says 
 
 1 Now all tliis time let us be merry, 
 And set nocht by this world a cherry.' 
 
 Safe in my house at Laugholm, Mary, let Giles and his old 
 dame enjoy the bargain they have got. They may sell the 
 steers at the next fair of St Boswell's; but I will not so 
 Boon part with my Mary."
 
 IPO TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 'Nis I hope not," replied the whispering female. " But 
 hma yc tha sounds of a horse's feet?" 
 The lover turned his h&ad. 
 
 "Your father, by tho rtxxl!" cried he; and, clapping 
 spurs again to his horse, they sat oi? at a quick gallop, with 
 a view to distance their pursuer, who waz no other than 
 Giles Ramsay himself, mounted on one of iris quickest 
 plough-horses, and brandishing a huge cudgel, la. the double 
 act of beating his nag and threatening vengeaaos on the 
 fugitives. 
 
 The pursued were now in danger of being overtaken; for 
 the greater speed of the hunter was counterbalanced by the 
 greater burden, and it was clearly a cast-up whether they 
 would be able to escape the vengeance that awaited them. 
 But, whatever might be the issue, there was no want of 
 energy in either hand or heel of the abductor; and he 
 lashed and spurred his steed more furiously as his fears in- 
 creased 
 
 " Still looking the sidelong woods amoivj, 
 
 Before, around him, and behind; 
 And aye, whene'er the echo rung, 
 The steed flew swifter than the wind." 
 
 And no less energetic was the fearful pursuer, whose hearty 
 thwacks upon the curpan of his shaggy cart-tracer, mixed 
 with loud halloos, might be heard in the distance, awaken- 
 ing the echoes of the silent night. The lover relished not 
 the appearance, and still less the cries, of the lusty farmer; 
 and as little apparently did his companion who, as the 
 horse increased his speed, grasped her abductor round the 
 waist wish to fall into the hands of the enraged pursuer. 
 Away they scoured, and, " Fear not, Mary love will dis- 
 tance the old churl," fell from the lips of the panting lover, 
 in reply to the inspiring pressure of her arms; while, " Na, 
 na, Robert, flee for the love o' heaven," added more energy 
 to the spur, and more passion to his breast. They reached
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 161 
 
 the skirts of the woody Langliolm; but it was not the ab- 
 ductor's intention to stop at his residence, while he was 
 in danger of being overtaken; so, striking to the left, and 
 dashing into a corrie, or deep lirk of a hill, he stretched on 
 with the flight of desperation. His wish was to clear the 
 fern brae, as the height was called, and, getting into the 
 thick wood at the back, make a sudden turn, and elude the 
 quick eye of the farmer; but the latter kept dashing and 
 bounding on, hallooing in the distance, and still brandish- 
 ing his oaken ryss, in the most fearful demonstrations of a 
 vengeance that would be contented with nothing less, ap- 
 parently, than the body of the one, and the life of the other. 
 Still the fond female turned her eyes behind, and, giving 
 her companion reports of the progress of the pursuer, kept 
 up his energies and alive his spirit. 
 
 "All the work of that accursed old duenna, your mother," 
 muttered he. 
 
 "Ay, ay, nae doot, nae doot," rejoined she, and hugged 
 him again more closely than ever. The turn of the fern 
 hill did not seem, however, to bring the relief which it pro- 
 mised, for the couple were still within hail of the redoubted 
 Giles; and his shouting reverberated among the rocks like 
 the tally-ho of the hunter, or rather like the deep-mouthed 
 bay of the pack. 
 
 But here a more extraordinary phenomenon presented it- 
 self, and that was an accession of strength to the sturdy 
 Giles of no fewer than three horsemen, who, probably at- 
 tracted by his war-whoop, had tendered their services in 
 endeavouring to overtake and seize the fugitives. This 
 circumstance was proclaimed by a united cry of the whole 
 pursuers, which rung in the ears of the lover like the howl 
 which met the Florentine on his visit to the region of the 
 wicked in Hades. There was, however, more in the ap- 
 pearance of the strangers, as seen in the light of the now 
 bright moon, than in their war-shout that carried dismay 
 
 VOL. IX. F
 
 162 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 to the "breast of the abductor. What this was, he told not; 
 but his muttering of "Who can have brought him and his 
 servants to this part of the country at this time?" satisfied 
 his companion that he knew the individuals who had thus 
 opportunely joined the cause of the farmer; and now, if in- 
 deed that were possible, he urged his panting steed for- 
 ward at a still quicker pace. His chance of escape was 
 diminishing every moment. The horses of the assistants 
 were fleeter than those of the farmer; and, if he did not 
 succeed in overtaking the fugitives, it was too evident that 
 they would accomplish for him the object he had in view. 
 The lover seemed doubtful what he should do whether 
 still to press on, lay down his charge, or make a sweep 
 round the hill, and take refuge in Langholm. A clump of 
 trees now intervening between him and the party, he ap- 
 peared to resolve suddenly on the last manoeuvre; and his 
 reason probably was, that he might have time to secrete his 
 fair one among some of the outhouses of the mansion before 
 the pursuers came up. Acting upon this resolution, he 
 turned the head of his horse, swept in by the tail of the 
 height, struck into a loan, and, after a rapid run of a few 
 minutes, was opposite to the house of Langholm. 
 
 " Quick ! quick, Mary ! jump and follow me," he cried, as 
 he took her in his arms. " This way," and he flew first to 
 one door and then another. They were shut, and he had no 
 alternative left but to take his fair charge into the mansion 
 itself. Rushing up-stairs, and dragging after him his ab- 
 ducted love, he reached a small bedroom, thrust her into it, 
 shut the door, locked it, and returned to face boldly his 
 pursuers. By the time he arrived at the landing-place, his 
 horse had sought the stable; and there was no apparent 
 sign, save his appearance there at that hour, of his having 
 been engaged in the unlawful undertaking for which he had 
 been so hotly pursued. 
 " I have paid well for my love-errantry," said he, as he
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 163 
 
 took a handkerchief, and wiped the sweat from his face. 
 41 There is not another beauty in Scotland for whom I 
 would have toiled as I have now done. Have I given 
 them the slip ? Mayhap I may, unless I am right in that 
 fearful conjecture, suggested by the appearance of my 
 strange pursuers." 
 
 "Ho, there!" cried the voice of a man, rushing up on 
 h orseback. " What is this, ' Eobert ? " 
 
 "My father!" ejaculated the youth; " what has brought 
 you from Craigton at this hour?" 
 
 "Eobert! Robert!" ejaculated a voice from a bedroom 
 window, at that moment drawn up "why have you placed 
 a woman in my bedroom, and locked her in]" 
 
 "Is that you, my love?" rejoined the father, in answer 
 to the cry of his wife. " Why, here is some infernal mys- 
 tery. Your mother and I arrived here to-day. We heard 
 you were at St Boswell's, and I left her here that I might 
 go and join you at the market. Now I have returned to 
 witness a scene that baffles all my wits. Here is a man 
 who has a claim upon you which your mother corroborates 
 by her extraordinary inquiry." 
 
 The cavalcade at that moment came up Giles in the 
 rear, still brandishing his rung, and muttering incoherent 
 threats against the abductor. The youth was surrounded: 
 his father cried for information, his mother screamed from 
 the window. Giles demanded restitution, and the voice of 
 tne abducted female was heard in shrill tones over alL 
 
 " Ha ! Matty, lass, this is sad wark," cried the farmer, on 
 recognising the voice of his wife. 
 
 "Is it possible, Robert Melville," said the father, "that 
 you could disgrace your family and your pedigree, by carry- 
 ing off the wife of this honest farmer a woman stricken 
 in years and place her in the bedroom occupied by your 
 mother?" 
 " It's owre true," cried Giles, with something like a sup-
 
 164 TALES OP THE BOEDERS. 
 
 pressed laugh. " I see her face at the window. He came 
 to Kelpiehaugh habited as an auld man, wi' a grey beard 
 stuck on his chin, and a scratch wig on his head; and, in 
 return for a supper and a bed, carried aff my helpmate, wi' 
 whom I hae lived, in love and honour, for thirty years." 
 
 The scene was getting more extraordinary. The young 
 man was sceptical of the truth of Giles' statement; but he 
 could not disprove it by stating what he conceived to be 
 the veritable fact that he had run away with Mary, the 
 young daughter of the farmer of Kelpiehaugh. He looked 
 at the latter, then turned up his eyes to the window, where 
 he then saw only the face of his mother. Her cries still 
 rung in his ears; the father called for the key; Giles in- 
 sisted on the truth of his statement; and the inquiries of 
 the servants mingled with the general confusion. By an 
 impulse he could not resist, he gave his father the key; the 
 door was opened, and the mother, who was now dressed, 
 came down-stairs, along with her husband, followed by the 
 female, on whom they turned eyes in which wonder and in- 
 dignation alternated their suitable expressions. The female 
 threw back her hood. 
 
 " We hae had a lang and a hard ride, Mr Melville," said 
 she. "My feth, ye did weel, but your horse did better; and, 
 Giles, man, ye did as I never saw ye do before." 
 
 "I couldna want ye, Matty,"- replied Giles; "and, if I 
 havena testified my love for ye by this nicht's wark, never 
 a man in Scotland ever proved his affection for his wife." 
 
 The absence of all ill-humour, the winks which Matty 
 directed to the wonderstruck youth, and his apparent amaze- 
 ment, added to the puzzle which perplexed the minds of the 
 father and the mother. 
 
 "What does all this mean, Robert?" cried the mother. 
 "For God's sake, explain this extraordinary affair!" re- 
 joined the father. 
 
 The youth was still mute. At length Matty whispered
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 165 
 
 something in his ear. He spoke for the first time since the 
 scene commenced. 
 
 " It may be as you say, Mrs Ramsay," said he. 
 
 " Aweel, it's a' richt," replied she; " but it may please 
 Giles and mysel if ye will acknowledge it in the presence 
 o' your father and mother." 
 
 "I have no objections," replied he; and, turning to his 
 parents, who understood not one word of all this dialogue, 
 and far less of the strange scene still acting around them, he 
 added, " I hereby declare, in presence of you, as witnesses, 
 that I hereby renounce all claim " 
 
 "To whom?" cried the mother; "to another man's wife 
 an aged matron ? Fie, Robert! Say no more. Close the 
 lips that would dishonour a son in presence of his parents." 
 
 "I hereby renounce all claim to six stirks at present lying 
 at the farm of Kelpiehaugh, and promise never to trouble- 
 Giles Ramsay for the same." 
 
 " It's a' settled and adjusted," cried Matty. "I am satis- 
 fied; and Giles, I fancy, you are no ill-pleased wi' my nicht's 
 wark]" 
 
 "I dinna ken which o' us hae dune best," replied the 
 farmer. " Between us, our arrears o' rent will be paid up. 
 My bargain was guid; but I freely admit yours is better." 
 
 " Then this affair is at last arranged 1 " said the youth. 
 
 The farmer assented. The worthy couple bade adieu to 
 their friends, and proceeded on their way to Kelpiehaugh. 
 We cannot tell what explanations took place at Langholm 
 between the young man and his parents; neither can we 
 tell precisely the import of the conversation that took place 
 between the farmer and his wife on their journey home- 
 wards; but we strongly suspect they enjoyed a hearty 
 laugh at the clever manosuvre of the dame. It is probable 
 that Giles himself was in the secret; at least the good- 
 humour he exhibited in getting again possession of his 
 spouse would lead us to believe that he had been a willing
 
 *6& TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 party in the plot that had been so cleverly laid and exe- 
 cuted. How far the daughter was to blame has not been 
 recorded; and, to do justice to the farmer and his wife, 
 they never taxed her with indiscretion. She was some time 
 afterwards married, and so put beyond the power of the 
 wild youth who had been so completely foiled by the genius 
 of a clever dame.
 
 SIB PATEICK HUME. 167 
 
 SIR PATRICK HUME. 
 
 A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF MAECHMONT. 
 
 IE PATEICK HUME of Polwarth was elected representative 
 of the County of Berwick in the year 1665, being then in 
 the twenty-fifth year of his age. He was a lover of free- 
 dom, a lover of his country, and a staunch Presbyterian, In 
 those clays, however, a love of freedom was a dangerous 
 principle either to avow or to carry into Parliament. The 
 tyrant Charles, whom some falsely call the Merry Monarch, 
 was then attempting to rule the empire with a rod of iron. 
 You have all heard of his Long Parliament, and of his after- 
 wards governing the country, like an absolute tyrant, with- 
 out a Parliament at all Fettered and servile as parlia- 
 ments then were, young Hume had boldly stood forward as 
 the advocate of civil and religious liberty; and, when the 
 arbitrary monarch sent down a mandate to Scotland for a 
 levy of men and of money, that he might carry his plans of 
 despotism the more effectually into execution, Sir Patrick 
 resisted the slavishness with which it was about to be 
 obeyed. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed he, "are we mere instruments in the 
 hands of the king creatures appointed to minister to his 
 pleasure ? Are we not representatives of the people of Scot- 
 land the representatives of their wants and their wishes, 
 and the defenders of their rights ? And shall we, as such, 
 at the mere nod of a monarch, drag them from following 
 their plough in the valley, or attending their hirsels on the 
 Mil shall we do these things, and lay contributions on their 
 cattle, on their corn, and on their coffers, merely because 
 His Majesty wills it? Pause, my countrymen. The king
 
 168 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 has no authority to compel such a measure, and it can only 
 be rendered legal by the concurrence of the assembled re- 
 presentatives of the people." 
 
 "Treason!" vociferated the Duke of Lauderdale, who 
 was the arch-minion of Charles; "before the Parliament of 
 Scotland, I denounce Sir Patrick Hume as a dangerous man 
 as a plotter against the life and dignity of our sovereign 
 lord the king!" 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Sir Patrick, indignantly fixing his 
 eyes upon Lauderdale. " Though there may be amongst ua 
 a slave who would sell his country for a royal smile, I still 
 hope that this is a FREE Parliament, and it concerns all the 
 members to be FREE in what concerns the nation." 
 
 From that day, Sir Patrick Hume became a suspected 
 man, and the eyes of the king's creatures were upon him; 
 and when, two years afterwards, Charles endeavoured to 
 put down the people by the sword, and establish garrisons 
 throughout the country, again the Laird of Polwarth stood 
 foremost in the ranks of opposition, and resisted his power. 
 The king accordingly ordered his privy council to crush so 
 dangerous a spirit; and Sir Patrick was confined in Stirling 
 Castle, where, with the exception of a short interval, he was 
 imprisoned for two years. 
 
 Britain had long been distracted with the pretended dis- 
 Govery of fabulous or ridiculous plots against the royal 
 family; and the perjury of paid miscreants, like the in- 
 famous Titus Gates, was causing the scaffolds to run with 
 gore. But tyranny being glutted with Catholic blood, and 
 the extinguishing of what were called Popish plots, the myr- 
 midons of Charles (who lived a libertine, and died a Papist) 
 professed that they had discovered a Protestant plot against 
 his royal person. In this plot the incorruptible Algernon 
 Sydney, Lord Eussell, Mr Bailie of Jerviswoode, and Sir 
 Patrick Hume, were included. They beheld their common 
 country withering and wasting beneath the grasp of a tyrant;
 
 SIR PATRICK HUME. 169 
 
 and true it is they had united together to restore it to free- 
 dom, but they were innocent of designs against his life, or 
 even of a wish to dethrone him. They did not, however, 
 act sufficiently in concert, and were unable to bring their 
 plans into operation. A price was set upon their heads 
 some fled into exile, and others sought refuge on the moun- 
 tain and in the wilderness; while the amiable Russell died 
 upon the scaffold. 
 
 It was near nightfall, in the month of September, 1684, 
 when Jamie Winter, who was joiner on the estate of Pol- 
 warth, ran breathless up to Eedbraes Castle, and knocked 
 loudly at the door. It was opened by John Allan, the land- 
 steward, who, perceiving his agitation, inquired 
 
 "In the name o' guidness, Jamie, what's happened, or 
 what do ye want?" 
 
 "Dinna ask, Maister Allan," replied Jamie; "but, for 
 Heaven's sake, tell me, is Sir Patrick at hame? and let mo 
 speak to him presently, as ye value his life." 
 
 "Follow me, then, Jamie," said the other, "and come in 
 quietly, that the servants mayna observe onything extra- 
 ordinar; for we live in times when a man canna trust his 
 ain brither." 
 
 The honest joiner was ushered into a room where Sir 
 Patrick sat in the midst of his family, acting at once as 
 their schoolmaster and their playmate. 
 
 "Weel, James," said the laird, "I understand ye hae 
 been at Berwick the day. Ye've got early back. What 
 uncos heard ye there?" 
 
 " I watna, Sir Patrick," replied the other; " now-a-days, 
 I think, there's naething unco that can happen. Satan 
 seems to have been let loose on our poor misgoverned coun- 
 try. But I wish to speak to your honour very particularly, 
 and in private, if you please." 
 
 "You may speak on, James," said the laird; "I am pri- 
 vate in the midst o' my ain family."
 
 170 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 " Wi' your guid leave, sir," returned the cautious servant, 
 " I wad rather the bairns were oot o' the way, for what I 
 hae to say is no proper for them to hear, and the sooner ye 
 are acquainted wi' it the better." 
 
 Sir Patrick led his younger children out of the room, but 
 requested Lady Polwarth and their eldest daughter, Grizel, 
 a lovely dark-haired girl, about twelve years of age, to re- 
 main. 
 
 " You are the bearer of evil tidings, James," said he, as 
 he returned, " but you may tell them now it is meet that 
 my wife should hear them, if they concern me; and," added 
 he, taking Grizel's hand in his, " I keep no secrets from my 
 little secretary." 
 
 "God bless her!" said James, "she's an auld-farrant 
 bairn, as wise as she's bonny, I ken that. But, your honour, 
 I am, indeed, the bearer of evil tidings. A party o' troopers 
 arrived at Berwick this morning, and it was nae secret there 
 that they would be baith at Jerviswoode and Eedbraes be- 
 fore midnicht. I heard them talk o' the premium that was 
 set upon your life, and slipped out o' the town immediately, 
 without performing a single transaction, or speaking a word 
 to a living creature. How I've got alang the road is mair 
 than I can tell; for I was literally sick, blind, and desperate 
 wi' grief. I've this minute arrived, and whatever can be 
 done to save you maun be done instantly." 
 
 Lady Polwarth burst into tears. Sir Patrick grasped the 
 hand of his faithful servant. Little Grizel gazed in her 
 father's face with a look of silent despair, but neither spoke 
 nor wept. 
 
 " Oh, fly ! fly instantly, my dear husband ! " cried Lady 
 Polwarth, " and Heaven direct you." 
 
 " Be composed, my love," said Sir Patrick; " I fear that 
 flight is impossible; but some means of evading them may 
 perhaps be devised." 
 
 "Oh, my leddy," said Jamie Winter, "to flee is out o' the
 
 SIR PATRICK HUME. 171 
 
 question athegither. Government has its spies at every 
 turn o' the road in every house in the country even in 
 this house. Our only hope is to conceal Sir Patrick; but 
 how or where is beyond my comprehension." 
 
 Many were the schemes devised by the anxious wife 
 many the suggestions of her husband, and honest Jamie 
 proposed numerous plans but each was, in its turn, rejected 
 as being unsafe. More than an hour had passed in these 
 anxious deliberations; within three hours more, and the 
 king's troops would be at his gate. Grizel had, till now,, 
 remained silent, and dashing away the first tear that 
 rolled down her cheek, she flung her arms around her 
 father's neck, and exclaimed, in an eager and breathless 
 whisper 
 
 " I ken a place, faither I ken a place that the king's 
 troopers and his spies will never find out; and I'll stop 
 beside ye, to bear ye company." 
 
 "Bless the bairn!" said Sir Patrick, pressing her to his 
 breast; "and where's the place, dearest?" 
 
 "The aisle below Polwarth Kirk, faither," returned GrizeL 
 "Nae trooper will find out such a hiding-place; for the 
 mouth's a bit wee hole, and the long grass, and the docks, 
 and the nettles grow owre it, and I could slip out and in 
 without trampling them down; and naebody would think 
 o' seeking ye there, faither." 
 
 Lady Polwarth shuddered, and Sir Patrick r^sed the 
 cheek of his lovely daughter to his lips. 
 
 " Save us a', bairn ! " said Jamie, " there's surely some- 
 thing no earthly about yer youn? ^idyship, for ye hae mair 
 sense than us a' put thep^hsr. The aisle is the very place. 
 I'll steal awa, rH- ^ n z a kind o' bed put up in it, and tak 
 ither twa or three bits o' necessary things; and, Sir Patrick, 
 ye'll slip out o' *he house *** ~"eet me there as soon as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 Within an hour, Sir Patrick had joined Jamie Winter at
 
 172 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the dark and dismal aisle. The humble bed was soon and 
 silently fitted up, and the faithful servant, wishing his master 
 " farewell," left him alone in his dreary prison-house. Slow 
 and heavily the hours of darkness moved on. He heard the 
 trampling of the troopers' horses galloping in quest of him. 
 The oaths and the imprecations of the riders fell distinctly 
 on his ears. Amidst such sounds he heard them mention 
 his name. But his heart failed not. He knelt down upon 
 the cold damp floor of his hiding-place upon the bones of 
 his fathers and there, in soundless, but earnest prayer, 
 supplicated his father's God to protect his family to save 
 his country to forgive his persecutors, and to do with him 
 as seemed good in his sight. He arose; and, laying himself 
 upon his cold and comfortless bed, slept calmly. He awoke 
 shivering and benumbed. Faint streaks of light stole into 
 the place of death through its narrow aperture, dimly re- 
 vealing the ghastly sights of the charnel-house, and the slow 
 reptiles that crawled along the floor. Again night came on, 
 and the shadows of light, if I may use the expression, which 
 revealed his cell, died away. A second morning had come, 
 and a second time the feeble rays had been lost in utter 
 darkness. It was near midnight, and the slender stock of 
 provisions which he had brought with him were nigh ex- 
 hausted. He started from his lowly couch he heard a 
 rustling among the weeds at the mouth of the aisle he 
 heard some one endeavouring to remove the fragment of an 
 old gravestone that covered it. 
 
 "Farther!" whispered an eager voice "farther it is 
 me yer ain Grizel ! " 
 
 " My own, devoted, my matchless child ! " said Sir Pa- 
 trick, stretching his hands towards the aperture, and receiv- 
 ing her in his arms. 
 
 She sat down beside him on the bed she detailed the 
 search of the troopers she stated that they were watched 
 in their own house that a spy was set over the very victuals
 
 SIK PATBICK HUME. 173 
 
 that came from their table, lest he should be concealed near, 
 and fed by his family. 
 
 "But what of that?" continued the light-hearted and 
 heroic girl; "while my plate is supplied, my faither's shall 
 not be empty; and here," added she, laughing " here is a 
 flask of wine, cakes, and a sheep's-head. But I will tell you 
 a story about the sheep's-head. It was placed on a plate 
 before me at dinner-time. The servant was out o' the room, 
 naebody was looking, and I whupped it into my apron. 
 Little Sandy wanted a piece, and, turning round for it, and 
 missing the head, ' Ah, mother ! ' he cried, ' our Grizzy has 
 swallowed a sheep's-head, bones and a', in a moment ! ' 
 'Wheesht, laddie!' said my mother; 'eat ye next ane then.' 
 ' Oh, ye greedy Grizzy ! ' said Sandy, shaking his little 
 nieve in my face, Til mind you for this.' 'I'm sure Sandy 
 will ne'er forget me,' said I, and slipped away out to hide 
 the sheep's-head in my own room; and as soon as I thought 
 naebody was astir, I creeped out quietly by the window, 
 and got down here behint the hedges; and I'll come every 
 nicht, faither. But last nicht the troopers were still about 
 the house." 
 
 In spite of his misery, Sir Patrick laughed at the inge- 
 nuity of his beloved and heroic daughter; then wept and 
 laughed again, and pressed her to his bosom. 
 
 He had passed many weeks in this cheerless dungeon, 
 with no companion during the day save a volume of 
 Buchanan's Psalms; but every night he was visited by his 
 intrepid daughter, who at once supplied him with food, and 
 beguiled the hours of his solitude. He was sitting in the 
 gloomy cell, conning over his favourite .volume the stone 
 at the aperture had been pushed aside a few inches to admit 
 the light more freely, and the weeds at the entrance were 
 now bowed down and withered by the frost a few boys 
 were playing in the churchyard, and tossing a ball against 
 the kirk Being driven from the hand of an unskilful
 
 174 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 pkyer, it suddenly bounded into the aisle. Sir Patrick 
 started, and the book dropped from his hand. Immediately 
 th aperture was surrounded by the boys, and the stoae 
 removed. They stood debating who should enter, but none 
 had sufficient courage. At length one more hardy than the 
 rest volunteered to enter, if another would follow him. The 
 laird gave himself up as lost, for he knew that even the tale 
 of a schoolboy would effect his ruin. He was aware he 
 could disperse them with a single groan; but even that, 
 when told to his enemies, might betray him. At length 
 three agreed to enter, and the feet of the first already pro- 
 truded into the aisle. Sir Patrick crept silently to its 
 farthest corner, when the gruff voice of the old gravedigger 
 reached his ear, shouting 
 
 " The mischief's in the callants, and nae guid. What are 
 ye doing there? Do ye want the ghaists o' the auld Humes 
 aboot yer lugs?" 
 
 The boys fled amain, and the old man came growling to 
 the mouth of the aisle. 
 
 "The deevil's in the bairns o' Polwarth," said he; "for 
 they wad disturb the very dead in their graves. I'll de- 
 clare, they've the stane frae the mouth o' the aisle!" 
 
 He stooped down, and Sir Patrick saw his grim visage 
 through the aperture, and heard him thus continue his soli- 
 loquy, as he replaced the stone 
 
 " Sorrow tak the hands that moved the stane ! Ye're 
 hardly worth the covering up again, for ye're a profitless 
 hole to me; and I fancy him that I should lay in ye next, 
 be he whaur he likes, will gang the gate that his freend 
 Bailie gaed yesterday on a scaffold. A gravedigger's a puir 
 bisness, I am sorry to say, in our king's reign; and the 
 fient a ane thrives but the common executioner." 
 
 So saying, he enveloped Sir Patrick in utter darkness. 
 That night Grizel and her father left the aisle together, and 
 from her he learned the particulars of what he had heard
 
 SIR PATRICK HUME. 175 
 
 muttered by the gravedigger, that his friend, Mr Bailie of 
 Jerviswoode, had been executed the previous day. 
 
 Disguised, and in the character of a surgeon, he by by- 
 ways reached London, and from thence fled to France. On 
 the death of Charles, and when the bigot James ascended 
 the throne, Sir Patrick was one of the leaders of the band 
 of patriots who drew their swords in behalf of a Protestant 
 succession. 
 
 That enterprise was unsuccessful; and, after contending, 
 almost singlehanded, against the enemies of his religion 
 and his country, he and his family sought refuge in a foreign 
 land. He assumed the name of Dr Peter Wallace, and 
 they took up their abode in Utrecht. There poverty and 
 privations sought and found the exiles. They had parted 
 with every domestic, and the lovely Grizel was the sole 
 servant and helper of her mother, and, when their work was 
 done, the assistant of her father in the education of the 
 younger children; for he had no longer the means of pro- 
 viding them a tutor. Yet theirs was a family of love a 
 family of happiness; and poverty purified their affections. 
 But their remittances from Scotland were not only scanty 
 but uncertain. Till now Sir Patrick had borne his misfor- 
 tunes with resignation, and even cheerfulness; he cared not 
 that he was stripped of attendants, and of every luxury of 
 life; yet at times the secret and unbidden tears would start 
 into his eyes, as he beheld his wife and his fair daughter 
 performing, without a murmur, the most menial offices. 
 But the measure of his trials was not yet full luxuries 
 were not only denied him, but he was without food to set 
 before his children. The father wept, and his spirit heaved 
 with anguish. Grizel beheld his tears, and she knew the 
 cause. She spoke not; but, hastening to her little cabinet, 
 she took from it a pair of jewelled bracelets, and, wrapping 
 herself up in a cloak, she took a basket under her arm, and 
 hurried to the street. The gentle being glided along the
 
 176 TALES OF TK.E BOKDERS. 
 
 streets of Utrecht, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and 
 shunning the glance of the passengers, as if each knew her 
 errand. She stood before a shop in which all manner of 
 merchandise was exposed, and three golden balls were sus- 
 pended over the door. She cast a timid gaze into the shop 
 thrice she passed and repassed it, and repeated the timid 
 glance. She entered she placed the bracelets upon the 
 counter. 
 
 " How much ? " was the laconic question of the shop- 
 man. 
 
 Grizel burst into tears. He handed her a sum of money 
 across the counter, and deposited the bracelets in his desk. 
 She bounded from the shop with a heart and a step light as 
 a young bird in its first pride of plumage. She hastened 
 home with her basket filled. She placed it upon the table. 
 Lady Polwarth wept, and fell upon her daughter's neck. 
 
 "Where have you been, Grizel?" faltered her father. 
 
 " Purchasing provisions for a bauble," said she; and the 
 smile and the tear were seen on her cheek together. 
 
 But many were the visits which the gentle Grizel had to 
 pay to the Golden Balls, while one piece of plate was pledged 
 after another, that her father, and her mother, and her 
 brethren, might eat, and not die; and even then the table 
 of Sir Patrick, humble as it was, and uncertainly provided 
 for, was open to the needy of his countrymen. .Thus three 
 years passed the memorable 1688 arrived. Sir Patrick 
 was the friend, the counsellor, and supporter of King Wil- 
 liam he arrived with him in England he shared in his 
 triumph. He was created Lord Polwarth, and appointed 
 Sheriff of Berwickshire; and in 1696, though not a lawyer, 
 but an upright man, he was made Lord Chancellor of Scot- 
 land, and created Earl of Marchmont, and Lord of Pol- 
 warth, Eedbraes, and Greenlaw. He was one of the most 
 ardent promoters of the Union; and with it ceased his poli- 
 tical career. In 1710, when the Tories came into power, the
 
 SIB, PATEICK HUME. 177 
 
 earl being the staunchest Whig in Scotland, he was deprived 
 of the office of Sheriff of Berwickshire, but was reinstated 
 in 1715. His lady being dead, he came to take up his resi- 
 dence in Berwick-upon-Tweed; and there, when the heroic 
 Grizel, who was now a wife and a mother (being married 
 to the son of his unfortunate friend, Mr Bailie of Jervis- 
 woode), came with her children and friends to visit him for 
 the last time, as they danced in the hall, though unable to 
 walk, he desired to be carried into the midst of them, and, 
 beating time with his foot 
 
 "See, Grizel," exclaimed the old patriot, "though your 
 father is unable to dance, he can still beat time with his 
 foot." 
 
 Shortly after this, he died in Berwick, on the 1st of 
 August, 1724, in the eighty-third year of his age leaving 
 behind him an example of piety, courage, and patriotism, 
 worthy the imitation of posterity.
 
 178 TALKS OF TUTS BORDEKS. 
 
 THE SERJEANT'S TALES. 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 
 
 AT the next opportunity, I got Serjeant Square to resume 
 the narrative of his adventures. 
 
 No feeling that the human mind is called upon to sus- 
 tain (said he) is more depressing than the consciousness of 
 being alone in a strange place without friend or acquaint- 
 ance the populous city and the desert are alike lonely. I 
 have been, in the wildernesses of America and in London, the 
 victim of this saddening sensation, and felt it perhaps less 
 keenly when a solitary wanderer in the trackless wilds; for 
 there bodily exertion, and the hopes of soon being in the 
 haunts of men, deadened its force; while, in the populous 
 city, I felt as if I had, after severe suffering and toil, at- 
 tained an object to me worse than worthless. Amidst the 
 densest crowds, after all, a man can only feel himself truly 
 alone when no hand is held out to him, no eye beams the 
 glance of recognition, and all is strange as a dream. Such 
 were my feelings on the morning after my arrival in Ber- 
 wick, on my way to London on foot. Fortune had been 
 adverse to me in my native city, Edinburgh in truth, I had 
 hitherto been her plaything; and, even now, had no definite 
 object in view. Tired of my walk, I had agreed with the 
 captain of a trader for my passage by sea, for the remainder 
 of my journey; and lay upon my bed, awaiting the morning 
 light, a prey to my feelings, and musing upon my chequered 
 fortunes. The wind began gradually to rise and mourn 
 sadly through the windows and in the chimney of the room 
 where I lay. As the morning advanced, the storm increased 
 and raged, so that no vessel could put to sea. After walk-
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOUKNEY TO LONDON. 179 
 
 ing down to the harbour, I returned back to my inn, half 
 resolved not to proceed to the south, but return to Leith 
 in a vessel that was also ready to sail, loaded with grain. I 
 felt myself as if I had been a child, without a will of my 
 own, not caring what became of me. Had I been seized 
 with a mortal disease, I would, I thought, have welcomed 
 death as a relief; so completely had my spirits, somehow or 
 other, become depressed. How I escaped the pressgang, I 
 have often wondered since; for they were very diligent in im- 
 pressing seamen at this time, and I was in seamen's clothes. 
 Perhaps the fearless manner in which I walked about had 
 led them and the informers to suppose that I had a protec- 
 tion, or was belonging to some ship, and at large on leave 
 of absence. 
 
 After breakfast, as I sat conversing with one of the cap- 
 tains about the weather and other trivial matters, a person 
 entered the room with a pack upon his back, and inquired 
 if any of the gentlemen would be so kind as look over hia 
 assortment of goods; strongly recommending some silk 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
 "No," said the person with whom I was conversing, 
 gruffly. " I want none of your goods. You packmen are 
 all swindling knaves." 
 
 " Not all knaves, my good sir. There are knaves in all 
 trades, I allow; but there are honest men, too." And, ad- 
 dressing himself to me, he repeated his request. 
 
 His voice at first had sounded in my ears like some well- 
 known sound, and roused my attention; but in vain I en- 
 deavoured to call to mind where I had heard it. I had not 
 yet looked towards him; but the instant I did, a mutual 
 recognition took place. He set his pack upon one of the 
 tables of the tap-room. Our hands were clasped in each 
 other's. "Square!" and "Wilson!" were uttered with 
 mutual feelings of joy and surprise. I had met a companion 
 of my early days and sufferings. Often had we spent the
 
 180 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 long and chilling winter nights, huddled together to keep 
 each other warm, in the snuggest corner we could find; 
 hungry and ill clothed, often had we shared the precarious 
 morsel of charity with each other, when either could have 
 devoured it all. We had not met since I had first left Edin- 
 burgh, many years before; and, if a tear was shed for my, 
 mysterious disappearance, it was by Bill Wilson. A glow 
 of pleasure, such as I had never felt before, thawed the icy 
 feeling that had chilled my mind. How delightful must 
 some of the stronger affections be, when the meeting of an 
 early associate can cause so much pleasure ! We stood gaz- 
 ing in silence upon each other for some time, ere we could 
 find words to express our feelings. At length they were 
 poured forth in congratulations and kind inquiries. To 
 be alone, we retired to my bedroom, where I gave 
 him a full account of all that had befallen me since 
 we last met, and the present unsettled state of my re- 
 solves. He heard me with varying interest, until I had 
 concluded. 
 
 " Square," said he, " you have been sorely knocked about, 
 a passive agent, without an object, save to enjoy or suffer 
 the present hour. Now, to succeed, we must have an aim, 
 and hold it in sight, whatever may befall; even should it 
 often elude our grasp, we must not despair or relinquish it 
 for another. My wish is an old age of independence. I may 
 die this night, or I may live until old age has long impaired 
 my energies. To obtain this, my wish, I have, from circum- 
 stances, chosen my present calling; nor have I allowed the 
 most adverse fortune to shake my resolve, or change my 
 method of recovering it; for perseverance is the only road 
 that leads to success. Fortune placed you in America at 
 your outset in life. You forsook the path others have trod 
 in with success. You prospered at sea, and threw the 
 golden opportunity away for a whim; a third time you were 
 placed in fortune's way; a dark cloud passed over it; you*
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOTTRNEY TO LONDON. '-"* 
 
 gave way to your feelings, and are once more, with years of 
 lost time, where you commenced." 
 
 As he spoke, a feeling any thing but gratifying passed over 
 my mind. I felt that what he said was strictly true; that 
 I had been living, until now, without an aim, either of ava- 
 rice or ambition my thoughts never having extended to 
 the future, nor a care for to-morrow having ever occupied 
 my mind. His cares, again, were all for to-morrow. This 
 difference could not have arisen from education; for in this 
 we were both alike. He, in short, had more prudence. 
 But to proceed. I requested him to give me an account of 
 the manner in which he had lived since we had been sepa- 
 rated. 
 
 "You know, John," he began, "that we were twins in 
 adversity upon the streets of Edinburgh, equally friendless 
 and penniless. After your departure, I felt for a few days 
 very sad and lonely. I sought you everywhere in vain, and 
 made every inquiry; but who cared aught about a homeless 
 beggar-boy ? Had a dog as strangely disappeared, the pub- 
 lic crier would have proclaimed him through the streets. I 
 began, young as I was, seriously to reflect upon my desolate 
 situation, and plan in my mind ways to mend it. The child- 
 ish wishes we had often formed of being rich, and the 
 happy dreams of what we would do if we were so, rose with 
 tenfold force into my memory, and I resolved to be rich; but 
 how to attain my aim was the rub. Wishing, I knew well, 
 brought no gain. It must be toiled for, and steadily pur- 
 sued. A tradesman I could not hope to be. No one would 
 receive me for my labour during my apprenticeship, and 
 clothe and feed me; and I was too young and weak for la- 
 bouring work in town or country. There was one way alone 
 open to me to commence merchant. You may smile at 
 the word; but you shall see. It was not my choice; but 
 what have the poor to do with choice? My object now was 
 to obtain a capital to commence business upon. I was fiwr
 
 182 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 from fortunate. It was nearly a month before I had accu- 
 mulated a groat; yet my labour and anxiety were intense. 
 No gentleman appeared on horseback in the city, whom I 
 did not follow, in anxious hopes to get, by holding his horse, 
 a penny, to increase my capital. In messages I was more 
 indefatigable than usual. No length of space or weight of 
 load daunted me, if a penny was to be earned; but it ap- 
 peared to my eager mind that the gentlemen, at this time, 
 required less service than usual, and those that employed 
 me were more liberal of their food than halfpence. Still I 
 steadily held on unflinching, adding halfpenny to halfpenny, 
 my mind a prey to a new fear, that of losing my treasure. 
 But I had joys mixed with my fears; for, when I retired to- 
 ft quiet corner, and counted again and again my increasing 
 store, what a pleasure I felt in adding a halfpenny to it, and 
 carefully wrapping up the paper ! When I had reached my 
 eightpence, I could delay my undertaking no longer. I felt 
 I had attained my first step; and, with a feeling of impor- 
 tance to be envied, proceeded to a bookseller's shop, and pur- 
 chased ballads, of which I got, for my groat, one dozen and 
 three, with a piece of paper to wrap them in, and left the 
 shop, exulting that I was now a merchant, and had goods 
 to dispose of. 
 
 "As it was not my intention to sing them on the streets 
 for from this my pride revolted I set off in the direction 
 of Lasswade, calling at every door to offer my wares. In 
 two days I had sold off my whole stock, and returned to town 
 for more ballads. After a time, I added other small books, 
 and my trade prospered amazingly. My living cost me no- 
 thing; my voice was good, and a supper and bed to the ped- 
 lar-boy, were the purchase of my songs, at the cottar's or tho 
 farmer's ingle. During the first year my two groats had 
 grown to nearly a pound, and my ambition had grown with 
 it. Pins, tapes, and thread were added to my store; my 
 excursions were extended, and Bill Wilson was a known and
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 183 
 
 a welcome guest over the whole county of Mid-Lothian. My 
 toil was great, but my strength seemed to increase with my 
 load. I had now in view my second step in advance, a horse 
 and cart to carry my load. Years had passed on; my pack, 
 worth twenty pounds, was all my own, and I had two pounds 
 in my pocket; it was far on in the year, and the day was 
 short and louring. I had some goods bespoke for a bridal, 
 which required to be delivered on the following day. My 
 route lay over the Soutra Hill; and had the weather kept 
 up, my task was easy of accomplishment so I cheerily 
 plodded on, counting my gains; but scarce had I reached 
 the ascent, when the wind began to moan along the dreary 
 waste, and thin flakes of snow to fall, while the blast, from 
 the east, blew right in my face. I quickened my pace; but 
 the storm increased before I reached the top, the drifting 
 snow blinding me, and the fitful gusts almost lifting m. 
 off my feet. Cold and biting as was the air, I was wet 
 with perspiration, from my load and my struggles against 
 the blast. I could not see two yards before me; I was truly 
 alone in the howling waste, yet I yielded not to despond- 
 ency, but struggled on for life. I had, it seemed, deviated 
 from the road, for all was now a trackless waste, when sud- 
 denly I stumbled and fell on the edge of a declivity, and my 
 pack, the whole of my wealth, bounded from me, in what 
 direction I knew not. It was vain to look for it in such a 
 situation, in such a storm; but what is wealth under such 
 circumstances, when life is scarcely to be hoped for? 
 
 " When I recovered my feet, I was bruised, and began to 
 chill. Hope of escape had nearly fled; despondency was 
 stealing fast upon me; but life is sweet, and so I urged on, 
 as much to overcome the intense cold I felt, as with any 
 hope of rinding a shelter from the pitiless storm. The 
 magnitude of my loss never once entered my mind in this 
 struggle for existence. I would have given all the remain- 
 der of my hard earnings for the sight of a cottage, in which
 
 184 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 to preserve my life. In this, my hour of need, I was 
 snatched from death. As I stood, unable to move a step 
 farther, and on the point of sinking upon the snow, to rise 
 no more, the sound of a dog, barking loudly, fell upon my 
 ear. There was life in the welcome sound; and, with an 
 energy I had felt myself incapable of a minute before, I 
 started off towards the spot from whence the sounds pro- 
 ceeded, calling at intervals with all my strength, and listen- 
 ing as the barking of the dog became more and more dis- 
 tinct. At length I could perceive the light shine dimly 
 through the drifting snow, from a cottage window, which, 
 having reached, I entered, almost exhausted. I was kindly 
 received by the humane inmates, to whom I told my piteous 
 tale. The storm still howled without. The good woman 
 made for me a shake-down upon the floor, close by the fire, 
 whereon to pass the night. After my benumbed limbs 
 were restored to animation, the good man of the house took 
 the book, and, after the worship, in which I joined with a 
 fervour I had never felt before, we all retired to rest, the 
 family speaking all the comfort to me their feeling hearts 
 could dictate, and promising to rise before dawn, to assist 
 in searching for my pack. All was still within; but the 
 storm raged with unabated violence without, and for hours 
 sleep forsook my pillow. I was tormented with heat; pains 
 shot through my frame, and before the dawn I was in a 
 raging fever, and unable to rise. The good people of the 
 house were sore distressed. I gave them the best informa- 
 tion I could where to search for my pack; but it was very 
 vague, for I knew not myself the spot where it had bounded 
 from me, and I was at this time two long Scotch miles from 
 the Soutra Hill, and one mile off the highway. The storm 
 of the preceding evening had been followed by a partial 
 thaw after daybreak; but all, save where the wind had 
 blown the snow from the heights, lay a trackless waste. 
 Far on in the day the searchers returned from their fruit-
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JUTJKNEY TO LONDON. 1 85 
 
 less labours, fatigued and hungry. I was myself much 
 worse; no doctor was to be had nearer than Haddington, 
 neither was there accommodation for me in the house. Ill 
 as I was, I had no choice. A horse and cart were, at my 
 request, procured, and, carefully wrapped up, I was con- 
 veyed to Haddington. What followed for some days I 
 know not. I will hurry on. I would not have been so 
 minute, were it not to show you that there are shipwrecks 
 and disasters on land as well as at sea. 
 
 "When I recovered my consciousness, I found myself in 
 an obscure garret, the dwelling of a lone and pious widow, 
 who had taken into her house the sick stranger, when all 
 else had refused. I had occupied her only bed, while she 
 passed her nights, seated by her scanty fire, and nursed me 
 in my delirium and fever. The good doctor had attended 
 me as assiduously as if I had been his own son, and aided 
 the widow in supporting me. The snow had been all off 
 the ground for many days; and whoever had found my 
 store had kept it concealed, for I never heard of it. I was 
 once again penniless, and worse than I was at the com- 
 mencement; for I was indebted to my kind landlady and 
 the doctor. My two guineas and seven shillings were still 
 in my pocket untouched; for the pious widow had, even in 
 her straits, on my account held them sacred, and they knew 
 from the people who brought me of my ruinous misfortune. 
 When I became able to move about, I besought them to 
 accept of even one of the guineas as a remuneration; but 
 their answer was, they would give me credit until I was 
 enabled to pay them in full and, thank God, I have done 
 this long ago. 
 
 " It was well up in February before I could resume my 
 toils. Disheartening as my misfortune had been, my ulti- 
 mate object, and the means of attaining it, I had never for 
 one moment allowed to pass from my mind. It was now 
 that the reward of honesty and fair dealing was felt by ma,
 
 186 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 and proved of immense advantage in enabling me to re- 
 cover my loss. There was not a merchant with whom I 
 had ever dealed, who did not offer me his goods in trust, to 
 what amount I chose; but to avoid debt has ever been my 
 maxim, and I took no more than my finances would allow. 
 I had only a smaller assortment, and returned the sooner. 
 I was astonished at the rapidity of my own sales for all 
 had heard of my misfortunes, and pitied me; and, if I was 
 expected, no other packman had any chance. What was 
 required, if not in my pack, I got orders for, and brought 
 at the appointed time. From that day to this, every- 
 thing has prospered with me. I have attained my second 
 step, and am now on my way to London, and other towns, 
 to purchase goods, and a horse and cart. To cover my ex- 
 penses, I am doing a little business by the way. An exten- 
 sive shop, and at length a competency, are, I trust, not far 
 distant." 
 
 By mid-day, the gale of wind had considerably abated; 
 the tide being in the evening, the vessels could not depart. 
 We sat chatting together. The perseverance and success of 
 my companion had made a deep impression on me. I began 
 to think that I might do worse than follow his example; 
 for I had never left my country through choice. 
 
 "Wilson," said I, "do you think I could be converted 
 into a packman ? I care not what I do for an honest liveli- 
 hood. I have often heard that an old packman makes a 
 good merchant I am willing to try if an old merchant can 
 make a good packman. I have a few guineas to purchase 
 goods with. If you will tell me what are the proper kinds, 
 we will go together, by sea, to London, where you are going, 
 and make our purchases: are you agreed?" 
 
 "No! Square, no! I will never agree to trust myself 
 upon the fickle element, when there is no occasion for it r 
 besides manifest loss. With what goods are in my pack, 
 J will travel free to London, and put a pound in my pocKet,
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 187 
 
 at least. If you have any thought of turning to my pro- 
 fession, you must study economy and a placid temper 
 ' take the bit and the buffet with it.' I have not a doubt 
 you may succeed, if you stick to it in earnest; and I have 
 no objection to give you all the information I can, before 
 we part." 
 
 I myself had, indeed, no other motive for going by sea 
 to London, than to avoid the fatigue and get quickly 
 there; so it was agreed that I should proceed with him, 
 and learn from his experience. My sailor's dress was sold, 
 and one similar to his own purchased; and, while this was 
 being done, he told me that he had upon his person, care- 
 fully concealed, an order from the Royal Bank of Scotland, 
 upon the Bank of England, for one hundred and sixty 
 guineas, which he had doubly secured. It was, he said, 
 not indorsed, nor would he indorse it, until he was obtain- 
 ing the cash. "There are such things as robberies," he 
 said, " and much worse. I have left a letter and instruc- 
 tions at the bank, and with Widow Craig, who nursed me 
 in my sickness (we have been as mother and son since then), 
 that, if my order is not called for within twelve months, 
 she is to give my letter to the worthy doctor, who will re- 
 ceive the amount, and administer to the widow's comforts. 
 What remains at her death, I cheerfully bequeath to him. 
 You may smile at this; but our trade is one not without 
 danger even in Scotland; and in England, where highway- 
 men and footpads are plenty, we travel with our lives iu 
 our hands." 
 
 Before the evening closed, I was all ready to start upon 
 my new line of life. As Berwick, he said, was not a proper 
 place to lay in a store of goods to sell again with a suffici- 
 ent profit, I purchased only a few pounds' worth of hard- 
 ware, Wilson being so kind as sell me, at cost, one dozen of 
 Barcelona silk handkerchiefs, of which he had a great sup- 
 ply, and which he esteemed as valuable and light of carri-
 
 183 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 age. The remainder of my cash he made me take out of 
 my purse, saying that none but those who knew not the 
 value of money carried it in purses. It was as if the owner 
 had collected it for the first who chose to put his hand in 
 his pocket, or for a vain display. 
 
 " Square," said he, " if you had a thousand guineas in 
 your pocket, among strangers never show or say you have a 
 coin in gold. Tempt no man to evil The poor travel safe, 
 when the rich are in peril. Allow me to place your guineas 
 in the bank." 
 
 He then opened the lining of the waistband of my small- 
 clothes, and stitched them in so dexterously, that no one 
 could have thought there was coin there. 
 
 "Now," says he, "we are all ready to start for London 
 on the morning. The way is long, and our burdens heavy; 
 but they will get lighter as we move along. Our lodging 
 for to-morrow night is Belford. I shall manage so that we 
 shall reach it before dark. The direct distance is only fif- 
 teen miles; but we may travel thirty in quest of customers. 
 You are not now, as you were a few months since, to expect 
 that customers will come to you the pack is a travelling 
 counter, and must move about." 
 
 Next morning, after an early breakfast, we crossed the 
 Tweed, and walked on, with our packs slung over our 
 shoulders the weather cool and pleasing. I felt a buoy- 
 ancy of spirits I had not experienced for some time; I 
 dreamed waking dreams, and built cactles in the air. Wil- 
 son sung snatches of songs. I had once more entered on a 
 new walk in life, and begun at the right end, as Wilson 
 said in one of his sage remarks. 
 
 "Square, your last misfortune arose from this you began 
 business at the wrong end; you commenced too soon and 
 too full. No man can manage money well who knows not, 
 by earning, the value of it Be prudent be cunning, too, 
 if you please; but use not your cunning to wrong any one
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOUBNEY TO LONDON. 189 
 
 a shilling won by fraud is a pound of loss. I have known 
 many since I began who have hastened to be rich in that 
 way; but they have all failed in their attempts. Those who 
 once dealt would never deal with them again; their means 
 of success became every journey more circumscribed. Here 
 is a farm-steading we must try how we are to succeed on 
 the south of the Tweed." 
 
 I will not weary you with our hawking adventures. We 
 progressed on our journey with various success, but con- 
 stantly with gain, our packs lightening apace; I liking th& 
 profession very ill. I loved not money sufficiently to bend 
 my mind to the slights and insults we were often forced to 
 endure. Upon Wilson they had no effect in ruffling his 
 temper. He would smile, and, with a slyness of humour, 
 turn their bitterest taunts against the taunters, or banter 
 them into good-humour, and effect a sale. He would, in- 
 deed, be as good-humoured under insult as if he had been 
 civilly treated; while I was on the eve of bursting into a 
 rage, and either looking sulky or returning taunt for taunt. 
 Indeed, before we reached Northallerton, I had made up 
 my mind to relinquish my new calling as soon as we got to 
 London; and told Wilson so. He shook his head. 
 
 " John Square, you are one of those who, for want of 
 firmness, never get on in the world. When there is an ob- 
 ject to gain, we must not be scared from it by trifles, or 
 neglect an honest mean that leads to success. You have 
 commenced at the hardest part of a packman's life his 
 journey in England. But, ho ! here is Northallerton. To- 
 morrow we will strike off the eastern road, and go to York. 
 I expect to see some acquaintances there." 
 
 Thus we journeyed on, I more through a dogged stub- 
 bornness not to yield, than any love I had for the mode of 
 life I had chosen, until we were a few miles, from York, 
 where we overtook a brother of the trade. As soon as he 
 came in sight, Wilson said
 
 190 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " There is Simon Hepburn, the Praying Packman, as the 
 profane call him, or Pious Simon, his more befitting name; 
 for he really is a good, well-meaning man. I have known 
 him for some years, neither richer nor poorer; his pack or 
 cash seldom exceeds twenty pounds, yet he could easily in- 
 crease his store, if he had ambition; but that he wants; and 
 his gains are always spent upon objects of charity or piety. 
 He is never without Bibles or pious books, which he be- 
 stows, in free gift, where he thinks they may be of use; he 
 has only particular houses where he stops, and he is always 
 a welcome guest, superseding the goodman of the house, 
 for the time, in the Christian office of a teacher. The 
 most pleasing and edifying evenings I have ever spent were 
 with him. When he is in Haddington, Widow Craig's is 
 his home; and, although we are two of a trade, happy am 
 I when we meet. You shall judge for yourself. His his- 
 tory is a most singular one, and nothing gives him more 
 pleasure than to relate it. Let him speak for himself." 
 
 We quickened our pace, and soon overtook him. He was 
 a man, to all appearance, above sixty years of age; his hair 
 was white as snow, with a shade of care at times upon his 
 regular features, that flitted off, and was succeeded by a 
 gleam of internal satisfaction. The smoothness of his brow, 
 and the fulness of his features, bore an unusual contrast to 
 the whiteness of his locks, the appearance of age and youth 
 being strangely combined, while his whole appearance was 
 winning in the extreme. When we came up to him, Bill 
 said 
 
 "Simon, I am happy to have met you; how come you on?" 
 
 " Far beyond my deserts," said he. " How are you 1 and 
 how did you leave my worthy friend the widow ? " 
 
 " In good health," said Bill; "I thank you. I have been 
 just talking of you to my friend Square here, who would 
 feel obliged were you to give him an outline of your strange 
 history, as we walk on to York."
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 191 
 
 " Certainly, Bill, certainly; it may be of use to him. He 
 is a new beginner in his present craft, as I was when the 
 events happened that I am going to relate. 
 
 " The changes that occur both in nations and families," 
 said Simon, "are soon felt by the individuals. Lawsuits 
 and bad management had reduced the once extensive patri- 
 mony of our family to a small farm. At my grandfather's 
 death, my father, who had married, as his father thought, 
 far beneath him, had three sons. My oldest brother, before 
 he succeeded, went to Holland, having got a commission 
 in the Scottish brigade; the second attended the farm, at 
 which I assisted until I was about eighteen. I grew weary 
 of farming, and resolved to become a merchant. I was in- 
 duced to this by the success of several who had left our 
 neighbourhood, done well after a few years' travel as pack- 
 men, and were then settled in various towns, and prospe- 
 rous. It was in the beginning of May, as soon as the weather 
 became settled, that I left the neighbourhood of Annan, 
 with a few pounds, on my way to Dumfries, and thence to 
 Edinburgh; my object being to furnish my pack I had a 
 relation of my mother's, a wholesale merchant, in the first 
 town, who had promised to do all in his power for me, as 
 far as advice and a few articles would go. Cheerful and 
 full of hope, I strode along, till, within about two miles 
 from Dumfries, I overtook a young and interesting female, 
 accompanied by a young man. We entered into conver- 
 sation as we walked along. She appeared sad, and often 
 sighed; while he was taciturn, and appeared to avoid con- 
 versation. When within a few hundred yards of the town, 
 they stopped behind for a minute or so, and then, the man 
 leaving her, she overtook me, and we entered the town to- 
 gether. I learned from her that she was on her way to 
 Edinburgh, and, having a brother married in Dumfries, she 
 was going to his house for some articles belonging to her, 
 and her fellow-traveller was to meet her there.
 
 192 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Anxious to commence my new mode of life, I had soon 
 completed my business with my friend. He was standing 
 at the door when I came up with the young woman, and, 
 laughing, inquired if she was my sweetheart or wife. In 
 the course of two or three hours, I was again upon the road 
 towards Moffat, on my way to Edinburgh, with my light 
 pack upon my back, as happy as a king. As I passed the 
 side of a young plantation that skirted the road, a few miles 
 from Dumfries, I saw, lying on the side of the way, a small 
 bundle, tied in a silk handkerchief. I immediately picked 
 it up; and, after standing a few minutes, and looking around 
 to see if any one was in sight who might have dropped it, 
 I called aloud, but there was no answer. I continued my 
 pace, rejoicing in my good fortune. At about a quarter-of- 
 a-mile from the spot, there was a public-house, into which 
 I entered, for a little refreshment, and to inquire if they 
 would purchase anything I could supply them. I placed 
 the bundle I had picked up and my pack upon the table, 
 got what I asked for, and then inquired if they would pur- 
 chase. During my stay, two farm-servants came in; and, 
 when I was about to depart, they, seeing me lift the bundle 
 from the table, inquired if it was my own. I hesitated for 
 a moment, and, unfortunately, said that it was. They 
 looked at each other; no more passed, and I resumed my 
 journey towards Moffat, which I was anxious to reach be- 
 fore nightfall. I accomplished it; and, stopping at a cheap 
 lodging-house, had an early supper, and went soon to bed, 
 weary with my day's walk. 
 
 " Scarce had I fallen asleep, when I was aroused by a 
 loud knocking at the door, and the sound of many voices. 
 Before I was fully awake, I was seized in my bed, and my 
 hands bound tightly together. My terror became extreme 
 I shook in every limb. In vain I strove to speak, and 
 inquire what all this meant. I could only see that every 
 eye was bent on me with an expression of horror and rage.
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 193 
 
 My clothes were searched, and then forced upon me. I 
 was not allowed to assist myself my hands were unbound 
 to get on my coat; but a man held each arm while another 
 pulled. They seemed afraid I would do something despe- 
 rate, and were as coarse and cautious as if I had been a 
 ferocious animal; yet I was passive from excess of fear; and, 
 although numbers were speaking, I was in such a state that 
 I could not collect the purport of their conversation. Exe- 
 crations sounded in my ears above the confusion of voices, 
 and the first sentence I made out was spoken by my land- 
 lady: 'Oh, the bloody-minded young wretch!' she cried. 
 ' Who would have thought it, to look at him ? But I hope 
 they will hang him as high as Haman. And, after all, to 
 come into a lone widow's house to bring disgrace on it. 
 Take him away, sirs, as quick as you can, or I shall be an 
 undone woman, and my character entirely lost.' 
 
 "Astonished at what the woman said, I inquired what 
 offence I had committed or where. God ! what was my 
 horror to learn that I was charged with murder ! that the 
 bundle in my possession had been the property of the victim 
 of some ruthless villain and that I was taken for him! 
 In vain I protested my innocence. The two men were pre- 
 sent to whom I had said, when they inquired, that the 
 bundle was my own. I was thus, by my own confession if 
 not a murderer a convicted liar. No one, for a moment, 
 thought me innocent. So strong was their conviction of my 
 guilt, that had the laws not deterred them, they would have 
 rejoiced to have put me to death on the spot. Even this 
 would have been kindness, in a worldly sense, to what I was 
 doomed to suffer. 
 
 "It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, but clear and 
 bright; the moon was nearly full; the air a little sharp, 
 but not .cold, when I was placed, bound hand and foot, in 
 a cart, and accompanied by the two men and two officers. 
 
 I thought my heart would have burst. I opened not my 
 VOL, ix. o
 
 194 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 month to speak in answer to their questions, cruel taunts, 
 and upbraidings. I saw I was an object of horror and loath- 
 ing to them and deservedly so, had I been the guilty crea- 
 ture they had cause to think me. I passed the melancholy 
 time we were upon the road in tears, and prayers that my 
 innocence might be made manifest; but I knew not yet the 
 extent of my misery. At length the cart stopped at the 
 door of the public-house; my feet were loosened, and I was 
 desired to come down, and enter the same room where I had 
 been in the afternoon. A crowd of horrorstricken people 
 were huddled round the fireplace. In the wooden bed lay 
 an object, covered with a white sheet, resembling a human 
 body. I had never seen a corpse laid out in my life; yet 
 the idea rushed upon my mind that this was one; and my 
 blood curdled in my veins, as the conviction came over me 
 that it was one that had met its fate by violence. I trembled, 
 while the large drops of sweat stood upon my brow. All 
 eyes were turned to me; a grim smile of malicious satisfac- 
 tion was on the faces of some, while horror and pity were 
 equally strongly marked upon the countenances of others. 
 My natural feelings were, to all present, a sure indication 
 of my guilt. I would have sunk to the ground had not the 
 two men supported, me. My head fell upon my breast. I 
 requested a little water, in a voice scarcely audible. It was 
 given me, and the sickness went off. One of the officers 
 then, taking a lamp, went to the bed, and removed the sheet 
 from the body. My eyes involuntarily followed jam; a cry 
 of horror escaped my lips; and I felt my muscles become 
 rigid. Before me lay the body of the female I had parted 
 with in health early in the forenoon, at the shop-door of 
 my relation, shockingly mangled, her long fair hair clotted 
 with blood, and her mild blue eyes, that had smiled upon 
 me, dulled by the shade of death. I could only groan. My 
 sufferings at this sight were beyond utterance. All in the 
 room moved to the bed, and placed their hands upon tha
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY 10 LONDON. 195 
 
 bosom of the dead, and protested their innocence. I was 
 ordered to do the same; but I could not summon resolution 
 to touch the body. My whole nature revolted from the 
 contact. 
 
 " ' I am innocent ! ' I cried; ' God knows I am innocent ! 
 I know nothing of this foul murder. Ask me to cut off 
 my hand, or place it in the burning fire, among the live 
 coals; but ask me not to touch that bloody body, for pity's 
 sake ! ' 
 
 "My appeals were vain; they only served to confirm the 
 prepossessions of my hearers that I was guilty. As I stood, 
 shrinking from the fearful object as far as those who held 
 me would permit, a cry arose that I was the murderer be- 
 yond a doubt, and that I should be compelled to touch the 
 body. One of the officers seized my hand; those who held 
 me pushed me towards the bed; I struggled in vain; my 
 hand was held fast as I was forced along; and the conse- 
 quence was, that it came with force upon the chest of the 
 murdered victim, when a gurgling sound issued from the 
 gaping wound. I became insensible. 
 
 "When my faculties returned, it was the grey of the 
 morning. We were entering the town of Dumfries; I in 
 the cart, and the murdered body by my side. I was lodged 
 in the jail a criminal already condemned in the eyes of my 
 fellow-men. Even the felons and debtors in prison avoided 
 my society. At my examination before the sheriff, I trembled 
 at the array of circumstantial evidence that was brought 
 against me. My own relation admitted that he had seen 
 us together at his shop-door. The young woman had gone 
 from thence to her brother's, and staid only a short time 
 telling them she was on her way to Edinburgh, and was 
 to meet a young man, who was to accompany her there. 
 She had been seen by the two men lingering upon the Mof- 
 fat road, near the planting, a short time before, with the 
 same bundle in her hand that I had said was mine when
 
 196 TALKS OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 they saw ine in the public-house with it in my possession. 
 They had thought it strange, but paid no attention until the 
 body of the young woman was discovered in the wood a few 
 hours after, and still warm. I had been pursued, and the 
 property proved to belong to the victim of my cruelty. My 
 terror at being apprehended, and my refusal to touch the 
 dead body, all militated against me. I was fully com- 
 mitted as the murderer, without hope of escape, inno- 
 cent as I was of the crime. To this damning evidence, 
 all I had to advance was my unheeded assertion of my in- 
 nocence. 
 
 " From the beginning of May until the month of Septem- 
 ber I lay in jail a stranger to comfort of any kind. Every 
 anguish was mine, except remorse. I was looked upon by 
 all, except my parents, as the most hardened villain on 
 earth. No one doubted my guilt, except my parents; and 
 it was only their parental feelings that made them doubt 
 and pray that, if innocent, the really guilty might be dis- 
 covered. I will not attempt to describe the scenes between 
 ine and my parents. They both wished that the grave 
 might hide their shame before the fatal day of the execu- 
 tion of their son; for all chance of proving my innocence 
 seemed out of the question. The worthy minister that 
 visited the jail firmly believed in my guilt; to all my solemn 
 asseverations of innocence, he only replied by holding forth 
 on the dangers of hardened crime, with earnest exhortations 
 for me to confess and make atonement as far as was in my 
 power. He would for hours lay before me the horrors of 
 appearing before my Maker with a lie in my mouth. My 
 pride was wounded by the good man's well-meant efforts. 
 I began to avoid him as much as possible; and, when I could 
 not, I was silent and sullen. This, also, was held to be a 
 i arc token of my guilt. Alas ! I was not hardened; but I 
 was heart-broken. My Bible was my only companion my 
 soother and support; for I found no threat there but against
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 197 
 
 the wicked. Its Author was the searcher of hearts. In it I 
 found I was really guilty of many crimes which my fellow- 
 men thought nothing of; but there I also found a Saviour 
 and Mediator. My uu^d became humbled and composed; 
 and, while I still solemnly asserteu isj innocence of the 
 murder, I did it with temper and meekness. 
 
 " ' Worthy sir,' I said to the clergyman, ' appearances 
 have deceived you. If it is the will of God that the inno- 
 cent should suffer, for some wise purpose, his will be done. 
 If it is not so, my guiltlessness of blood will be made evi- 
 dent in this world at least I shall be declared innocent on 
 that great day when all shall render their account in this 
 matter, innocent, save of the guilty falsehood I stated, that 
 the unfortunate female's bundle was my own. Alas! I 
 wished not to keep the property from the rightful owner. 
 My thought at the time was, that, if I owned that I had 
 found it, they would take it from me, or make a disturbance 
 about it. Had they only said a few words more, I had told 
 the truth; and thus, probably, have contributed to the proof 
 of my innocence.' 
 
 " At length, the Lords of Justiciary entered the town. 
 None but those who are within the walls of a jail, awaiting 
 their arrival, can conceive the dread sensation of fear and 
 hope awakened in the breasts of criminals by the clang of 
 the trumpets and shouting of the mob, as the pageant pro- 
 ceeds through the streets. How bitter are the feelings pro- 
 duced by the joyous shouts of the thoughtless people ! for- 
 getful, or heedless, of the fates of their fellow-mortals. Next 
 day I was led into the court, more dead than alive. My 
 head became giddy. Everything before me the crowded 
 court, the judges, jury, and officers became a confused mass; 
 a murmur as if of horror sounded in my ears from the as- 
 sembled multitude; the fatal bundle lay upon the table be- 
 fore me. At length all was ready; and, the indictment 
 having been read aloud by the clerk, the judge, in a solemn
 
 198 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 voice, asked if I was guilty or not. After a gasp or two for 
 breath 
 
 " ' my lord !' I said, ' I ain as guiltless of this crime as 
 the unborn babe. Have mercy on me !' And I sank upon 
 the table before me, overpowered. 
 
 " The public prosecutor then opened the case, and har- 
 rowed up my soul with the fearful account of the diabolical 
 deed. He almost persuaded me I was the murderer; so 
 clearly did he reason from appearances. The witnesses were 
 called; a chain of circumstantial evidence was made out; all 
 that was awanting in it was, that I had not been seen to do 
 the deed. Witnesses I had not one. Those whom I could 
 have called could have said nothing but what they had al- 
 ready said, and it was wrested to my disadvantage by my 
 own story; for I was a self-convicted liar, and little better 
 than a thief, in my attempt to appropriate what was not 
 my own even in the most favourable construction my able 
 counsel could put upon my case. The jury, without leaving 
 their box, pronounced me guilty, without a dissentient voice. 
 The judge put on the fearful black hat upon his head; and, 
 after a heart-harrowing speech upon my guilt, pronounced 
 sentence of death upon me. I was to be taken back to the 
 jail, and from thence to the spot where the murder had been 
 committed, and hung in chains on the second market-day in 
 October. How I was removed from the court I cannot tell; 
 neither can I tell what intervened for some hours. The last 
 thing strongly impressed upon my memory is a burst of 
 satisfaction in the court, when the sentence was passed upon 
 me, and the hooting of the crowd without; yet, strange to 
 say, I slept soundly after the irons were riveted upon my 
 ankles, and awoke to find my doom fixed, and my days on 
 earth numbered. I became, in a manner, resigned to my 
 fate. Indeed, save for my parents, I had no other regret in 
 leaving the world; yet, at times, an anxious wish would 
 steal upon my mind that I might be saved from my unrne-
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 199 
 
 rited death. It was the shuddering of nature at entering 
 upon eternity. The hope never left me that my innocence 
 would, at one time or another, sooner or later, be made 
 manifest to my fellow-men for murder will not hide, nor 
 innocent blood cry from the earth in vain. The hours flew 
 past with fearful rapidity; the neighbouring clock seemed 
 never to cease to strike the hour. Night followed day, and 
 day night, as if there was no interval between; yet there 
 was a heaviness upon me that bowed me down. My last 
 Sabbath on earth arrived; the day was spent in devotion 
 my heart-broken parents, who now were convinced of my* 
 innocence, pouring out their souls with mine to the Throne 
 of Grace. If ever there was on earth a foretaste of the joys 
 of heaven, I felt it that day in the condemned cell, loaded 
 with irons. We had taken farewell of each other, in the full 
 assurance of soon meeting where there is no sorrow or shame. 
 The bitterness of death was past. My thoughts were no 
 longer of this world. 
 
 " The Monday passed on. ITiere was but one whole day 
 more for me on the earth. Wednesday was to be my last. 
 On the morning of Tuesday, as soon as the jail was opened, 
 my brother, who had always thought hardly of me, and 
 visited me only twice, rushed into my cell, and, weeping, fell 
 upon my bosom. After a few minutes, he sobbed 
 
 " ' My brother !. Simon, my brother ! can you forgive me 
 for thinking so hardly of you ? ' 
 
 " ' My brother,' I replied, ' I have ever thought of you in 
 grief and pity, never in anger. My heart blesses you for 
 this kindness.' 
 
 " ' You are innocent, my own Simon ! You are cleared of 
 this crime. All is made manifest. The worthy minister 
 is at present with the provost, who will write to the sheriff 
 to delay the fatal day, until your pardon come.' 
 
 "I heard no more: a faintness came over me; my heart 
 ceased to beat, and all consciousness left me for some time.
 
 200 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 When I recovered, we fell upon our knees, and poured out 
 our souls in thanksgivings. At that time I dedicated the 
 whole remainder of my days to the service of that merciful 
 God who had made clear my innocence, and spared my 
 parents and friends from shame. 
 
 "When we had become composed, I learned from him 
 the wonderful manner in which my innocence had been 
 discovered, and the guilty punished by the hand of the 
 sufferer's own brother. She had resided in the parish of 
 Caerlaverock, with a brother, a widower, as his house- 
 keeper, for some years; and it had been understood that 
 she was soon to marry a young man, a stranger, who had 
 come some years before into the parish. He was on inti- 
 mate terms with her brother; but her other friends did not 
 approve of the connection, as his character was none of the 
 best. Her brother was of a thoughtless, jovial disposition, 
 and saw no harm in him, for he was an excellent boon-com- 
 panion, and they were thus inseparable on all occasions of 
 festivity. On the Saturday afternoon before the day ap- 
 pointed for my execution, they had gone out with their guns 
 to shoot for amusement. Both had been drinking pretty 
 hard; and it was observed that the stranger had for some 
 time almost entirely given himself up to intoxication, espe- 
 cially since the death of Grace, his sweetheart. This was 
 attributed to his grief, and begat pity for him, and no one 
 was more assiduous in endeavouring to cheer his gloom than 
 her brother. After their search for game, they were return- 
 ing to the village, when, by some accident, the gun which 
 Grace's brother carried went off, and lodged its contents in 
 the body of his companion, who fell, dreadfully wounded. 
 A surgeon was sent for, who gave little hopes of his recovery. 
 No blame could be attached to his companion, as the acci- 
 dent was seen by several, and the grief of Grace's brother 
 was excessive. On the Sabbath, the stranger was much 
 worse. His mind seemed to suffer more than his body; and
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON-. 201 
 
 words of fearful import escaped from him at intervals, which 
 harrowed up the souls of those who attended him. Cries of 
 despair, mixed with horrid imprecations, burst from his lips. 
 Yet death evidently was approaching fast to seize his victim. 
 When they spoke of sending for the minister to pray with 
 and console him, he blasphemed, and thus spent he his last 
 Sabbath on earth. Through the night he fell into a troubled 
 sleep, and began to mutter. Gradually his words became 
 more distinct. He talked of Grace, and recounted her 
 murder as he had perpetrated it; writhed in remorse, and 
 called for mercy from my injured spirit, as if I had already 
 suffered. As soon as the morning dawned, the minister was 
 sent for, and what the guilty man had said in his sleep re- 
 counted to him. He was now very low; the hand of death 
 was on him; and, for some time, he was deaf to the remon- 
 strances of the divine. But at length he confessed all; told 
 that they would find the knife with which he had done the 
 fearful crime buried at the back of the cottage where he lay. 
 All was written down by the minister. The knife was found, 
 stained with the blood of his victim. I was now as much 
 the object of pity as I had been of hatred and horror. That 
 day my irons were struck off; I had the freedom of the jail 
 until my pardon arrived, and was visited by numbers of the 
 inhabitants, who loaded me with presents. But my feelings 
 of gratitude were principally awakened on my parents' ac- 
 count, for the joy it imparted to them. Many, many years 
 have passed since that event, but it is ever present with 
 me, and spurs me on in my labours of love, in comforting 
 and winning souls to God." 
 
 So deeply had I been interested in the narrative of the 
 Pious Pedlar, that we had reached York, and stood at the 
 door of the Duke of Marlborough public-house, before I 
 was aware of the distance we had walked after he com- 
 menced. As this was the house where Bill and a number 
 of others in his line were in the habit of staying during the
 
 202 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 time they "were in the town, \ve entered, and found two or 
 three, who, like ourselves, had come to purchase goods. I 
 was astonished at the haughty manner in which they re- 
 turned our salutation. The landlord, who seemed to know 
 all his guests well, received William and Simon with a 
 hearty welcome; and, shaking me by the hand, wished me 
 success in my new calling, expressing his hope that I would 
 find everything in the Marlborough to my liking. We were 
 then ushc/ed into a small room, where dinner was to be 
 served to us. When we were comfortably seated, I re- 
 marked to Bill the impression the lofty bearing of the others 
 had made upon me, and inquired if he knew the cause. He 
 laughed 
 
 " Quite well," said he; " there is an aristocracy among 
 pedlars as well as other callings. They belong to the wag- 
 goners, and would think it a degradation to associate with 
 us bearers. We are a grade beneath them; besides, the 
 waggoners are, for the most part, gentlemen by birth the 
 younger cadets of decayed houses of long standing. With 
 a little capital to commence with, they never dealt in small 
 quantities, their line lying in supplying the retailers in dis- 
 tant towns, and many of them are very wealthy. Upon 
 my return from London, when I have purchased my horse 
 and waggon, I will be entitled to rank with them, but will 
 never be treated as the equal of those who have both birth 
 and waggons; nevertheless, I will be a waggoner until I 
 commence business in my own shop, when I will be a grade 
 higher than even waggoner; and, with economy and my 
 usual perseverance, I may be a bailie, or even provost, of 
 the town I settle in. Only think of that, Jc.hu Square ! 
 Stick to your present occupation, and, without trusting the 
 stormy ocean, you may, by following my counsel, succeed 
 as well as I or any one." 
 
 " My young friend," said the pious Simon, " all these 
 are good in subjection; but a higher aim ought to be
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOUENEY TO LONDON. 20? 
 
 your guide through life; for all these give not peace to 
 the soul." 
 
 While he spoke, we were joined by other two of our own 
 rank, to whom my two companions were barely civil, and 
 very distant. Both were well advanced in years, with a 
 forward cast of countenance and a look of low cunning 
 strangely blended, which they endeavoured to make pass 
 for frankness. Having settled our small bill, and left our 
 packs in charge of the landlord, I walked out to see the 
 minster, they to transact some business of their own. 
 
 I returned when the shades of evening fell, and found 
 that Wilson and Simon had arrived some time before me, 
 and were seated by themselves. There were several others 
 in the room in general conversation, in which we took no 
 part. The two whom I had left before I went out were 
 still in the same position, evidently under the influence of 
 liquor. They were clearly unwelcome; their conversation 
 was only calculated to beget disgust in well-regulated minds, 
 consisting of anecdotes of fraud and imposition, of which 
 they seemed proud of being the heroes. 
 
 "These two," said Simon to me, "are a specimen of those 
 who bring disrepute upon any callings, and much more so 
 on ours. They are not without talents, but they cultivate 
 them to unprofitable ends. I have known them for many 
 years; and, with all their boasted cunning, they are, I be- 
 lieve, poorer at this moment than they were when I first 
 knew them, and must still become poorer, for their cha- 
 racter is gone. The public fear to deal with them, and will 
 not do it, even when they would act honestly. They are- 
 forced to range far, to places where they are unknown; and 
 even there they are every year circumscribing and planting 
 thorns for others to walk over. They, besides, are ever 
 under the fear of injury from some one or other whom they 
 have defrauded. Such are the fruits of dishonest dealing." 
 
 All our business being transacted, it was agreed that we
 
 204 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 should continue our route for London, to purchase silks and 
 light goods, and return by the same route to Scotland. 
 William having purchased a small waggon and horse, to- 
 gether with a small assortment of woollens, my stock re- 
 mained much the same, and was slung over my shoulder, 
 save when, for ease, and there were no houses on the road, 
 I placed it in the waggon; for I was weary of my pedlar's 
 life, and only endured it until I should reach London. We 
 arrived at Hatfield, about twenty-five miles from London, 
 early in the afternoon, and resolved to stay for the night, as 
 Wilson had hopes of doing some good in the neighbourhood. 
 As for me, I had ceased, much to his chagrin, to attempt 
 any sales, as my pack was now much reduced. While he 
 was gone, I sat at the inn-door, amusing myself in the best 
 manner I could sometimes musing on my strange fate, at 
 others gazing listlessly upon the passers-by when a post- 
 chaise drove up to the door at a furious rate. The horses 
 were extremely blown, and covered with perspiration. A 
 gentleman and lady descended from the chaise; she evi- 
 dently was under restraint, and looked anxiously and fear- 
 fully around. Our eyes met; I thought she gave her hand 
 that was disengaged a movement, as if she wished me to 
 come to her. She was in tears. I rose, and moved to ap- 
 proach, but she was hurried into the house before I could 
 advance; for I was in doubt yet her look expressed what 
 her hand signalled. I thought it strange, for a moment; but 
 this feeling died away, for I might have been deceived. The 
 gentleman came to the door, to hurry the people, as they 
 were rather slow, as he thought, in procuring fresh horses. 
 I good-naturedly went to assist the postilion. As I stood 
 before the chaise, I looked up to one of the windows, and 
 saw the female weeping at it. Our eyes again met; she 
 clasped her hands imploringly, and, taking a small packet, 
 placed it behind the window-shutter, and, raising her clasped 
 hands to heaven, looked earnestly at me. I gave a nod of
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 205 
 
 assent. She retired from the window. All this had passed 
 quickly as .a shadow. In a few minutes they were again 
 in the chaise. As it passed off, I again gave a nod, and a 
 languid smile passed over her face. I entered the house, 
 and inquired of the landlord who they were; but got no in- 
 formation, as he said they were unknown to him. I re- 
 quested to have a glass of brandy-and-water in the room 
 where the lady had been. As soon as it was brought, and 
 he had retired, I looked behind the window-shutter, and, 
 taking out the parcel, found it to contain a sum of money 
 and a sealed letter, upon the inside of the wrapper of which 
 was written in pencil " Benevolent stranger, whoever you 
 are, for mercy's sake and all that is dear to you, deliver this 
 as directed, with your utmost despatch, and snatch a fellow- 
 creature from misery. Let this supply your immediate 
 wants, and an ample reward shall follow. Use all despatch, 
 T again implore you." 
 I was for a few minutes lost in amazement. The letter 
 
 was addressed to Captain James H , Strand, London. 
 
 Could this be my old patron and captain ? There was not 
 one moment to lose. I descended to the bar, and told the 
 landlord I must set off for London immediately, and re- 
 quested his advice how I was to proceed. He told me I 
 must make the journey on horseback, as he had not another 
 pan- of horses. I told him that was impossible, as I had 
 never been on horseback in my life, and I could walk it 
 faster and with more ease than I could ride. I would walk 
 on to Barnet before dark, and get a chaise there if I could 
 find none sooner. As I was on the eve of setting off, he 
 found means to procure an old phaeton; and, while it was 
 getting ready, I wrote to Wilson that circumstances forced 
 me to London, but that I would perhaps see him in the 
 morning. At all events, I made him heartily welcome to 
 my pack, as I meant to carry it no more, wishing him health 
 and prosperity if we should not meet.
 
 206 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 I mounted the high-hung, crazy vehicle, with a lad to 
 drive and bring it back, having satisfied mine host to his 
 utmost wish. By half-past ten o'clock, I reached the 
 
 jeweller's in the Strand, whose first floor Captain H 
 
 occupied, and found him at home. His lady was also pre- 
 sent. His surprise was great at my entering. Our joy was 
 mutual, and only damped by my relating the strange man- 
 ner in which I had again had the pleasure of seeing him. 
 He broke the letter open, and having hastily perused it, 
 turned to his wife, who sat pale and anxiously looking at 
 him "My love, I must be off 1 this instant, and endeavour 
 to rescue Catherine from her unpleasant thraldom. Do not 
 be alarmed there is no danger. During the time I am get- 
 ting all ready, you may peruse the letter." Saying this, he 
 rung the bell, and ordered his servant to procure a post- 
 chaise as quickly as he could, and send in refreshments for 
 
 me. Mrs H was dissolved in tears, as she had read the 
 
 letter to an end. When we were again alone, " James," said 
 she, " this proceeding of Master Wilton is very cruel to my 
 cousin; although he is her guardian, he has, I should think, 
 no right to wound her feelings, and hurry her about the 
 country in this mysterious manner. I am fearful he has 
 some reason he is ashamed to confess. My dear James, be 
 careful of yourself for my sake; I shall be miserable until 
 your return." 
 
 "There is not the smallest occasion, my love; I shall 
 write you as soon as I arrive at Mr Wilton's. In the morn- 
 ing, you must write a note to Mr Stenton, to call upon you. 
 Show him your cousin's letter, and order him to take what 
 steps he may judge necessary in this affair." 
 
 " Can it be possible," said she, " that my aunt approves 
 of this proceeding? He could not have* removed Catherine 
 without her consent." 
 
 " I shall soon know, my love. The dear girl must not be 
 allowed to suffer from their designs or caprice."
 
 THE PACKMAN U JOURNEY TO LONDON. 207 
 
 At this moment the chaise was announced, to be at the 
 door, and in a short time we were in it, and rattling along 
 towards Barnet, where we changed horses, and were in 
 Hatfield a little after daybreak. During our dark and com- 
 fortless ride, I told him all that had befallen me since we 
 parted in Lisbon. He had only been in London a few 
 months, where he had come upon business an uncle of his 
 wife's having died some time before, leaving the bulk of 
 his fortune to his two neices Catherine, the young lady 
 whose letter I had brought to London, and his wife. To 
 Catherine, his favourite sister's daughter, he had left, be- 
 sides an equal sum in cash, all his landed and other pro- 
 perty. Mr Wilton's sister, the aunt of both, was a rich 
 widow, but of a morose and finical temper. Catherine had 
 been brought up by her some fifty miles from London, and 
 
 Mr H had no idea until my arrival that she had not 
 
 been still with her. " I hope there is no foolish love affair 
 in this strange business," said he; " for Catherine is a warm- 
 hearted, susceptible girl Her father was our countryman, 
 and my intimate friend." 
 
 As Mr Wilton's property lay near Baldock, about eighteen 
 miles distant, and no post-horses were to be got, the captain, 
 on horseback, set off alone; I was to follow on foot, which I 
 preferred, to Stevenage, where I was to wait until I heard 
 from him. After a hasty parting from my fellow-traveller 
 "Wilson, which was not without regret on both sides, I set 
 off for Stevenage; he saying, as he shook my hand 
 
 " John Square, I hope you will never want, but you will 
 never be rich. You are as unstable as water." 
 
 I had only been in the inn at Stevenage a short time, 
 when a servant arrived with a note, informing me that 
 
 Captain H had got all arranged to his satisfaction, 
 
 and would return to London on the following day, request- 
 ing me to hasten thither with a letter for Mrs H ; 
 
 which I did, and took lodgings for myself in Lower Thames
 
 JJ08 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Street. When the captain and I again met, I found pre- 
 sent the young lady and another gentleman. I was most 
 graciously received by all. The uncle of Catherine was 
 likewise present, and, turning to his niece, said 
 
 " So this is the messenger you contrived to engage, strictly 
 as I watched you in this foolish affair. I see that a woman's 
 invention, like her love, has no bounds " saying which, he 
 good-humouredly patted the happy and blushing Catherine 
 under the chin. 
 
 The captain retired with me to a separate room, where 
 he told me that the wnole had arisen out of the anger of his 
 wife's aunt, who had set her heart upon marrying her niece 
 to a young clergyman of her neighbourhood, for whom she 
 had not the smallest regard, and whose assiduities were 
 hateful to her, as her heart was already engaged to Mr 
 Stenton, a distant relation of her own; but, as his circum- 
 stances were not sufficiently prosperous to enable them to 
 
 marry, she had concealed their love from all but Mrs 
 jj 
 
 " The death of her uncle, and my arrival in London, altered 
 her views. She rebelled against her aunt's authority, and 
 refused to see the clergyman as a lover. This threw the 
 old lady into a paroxysm of rage. Poor Catherine was 
 locked up, and, all her repositories being searched, Mr 
 Stenton's letters were found. They were immediately sealed 
 up, and a letter written to Mr Wilton, her brother, of the 
 most alarming kind for the safety of his now wealthy niece, 
 representing that she meant to throw herself and fortune 
 away upon some peasant in the neighbourhood. He had 
 posted, on receipt of the packet, to his sister, when his fears 
 were further excited by the old lady's conjectures. Cathe- 
 rine was unconscious of what had passed, until she was 
 summoned to the presence of her uncle, whom she had 
 seldom before seen. He is a good-hearted, but a positive, 
 irascible man. No explanation was asked. When all ap-
 
 THE PACKMAN'S JOUENEY TO LONDON. 209 
 
 peared so plain. against the trembling girl, she was, by her 
 uncle and aunt, hurried into a post-chaise, and was on her 
 way to Mr Wilton's. She had contrived to write to me 
 during the short time she was allowed to prepare for the 
 journey, but had no opportunity until, struck by your man- 
 ners, she resolved to shorten her confinement by trusting 
 you, as her uncle's anger was so great that he had scarce 
 spoken to her since they entered the chaise, but to threaten 
 and abuse her. When I arrived, an explanation and recon- 
 ciliation had taken place, and the marriage will follow in a 
 few weeks. It only remains for you to consider in what 
 manner we can serve you." 
 
 I returned him my thanks for their kind intentions; and 
 said the young lady's purse, which I would not affront them 
 by offering to return, was much more than sufficient reward 
 for all I had done; and, begging I might not detain him 
 longer from his friends, I bade him adieu, promising to call 
 in a day or two. 
 
 G 2
 
 210 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 CHARLES LAWSON. 
 
 " TAK a faither's advice, Betty, my woman," said Andrew 
 Weir to his only daughter "tak a faither's advice, and 
 avoid gaun blindfolded to your ruin. Ye are sune aneugh 
 to marry these seven years yet. Marry ! preserve xis ! for I 
 dinna ken what the generation is turning to, but 111 de- 
 clare bits o' lasses now-a-days haena the dolls weel oot o' 
 their arms, till they tak a guidman by the hand. But 
 aboon everything earthly, I wad impress it upon ye, bairn, 
 that ye canna be owre carefu o' your company; mind that 
 a character is a' a woman has to carry her through the 
 warld, and ye should guard it like the apple o' your e'e; 
 and remember, that folk are aye judged o' frae the com- 
 pany they keep. Now, how often maun I warn ye no to 
 be seen wi' Charles Lawson ? He's a clever lad, nae doubt 
 naebody denies that; but, oh, Betty, Betty, woman ! wad 
 ye only reflect that a' gifts are no graces; and I am far 
 mistaen if he hasna a serpent's heart as weel as his tongue. 
 He has naething o' the fear o' God before his een ye canna 
 deny that. In ae word, he is a wild, thoughtless ne'er-do- 
 weel; and I charge ye I command ye Betty, that ye ne'er 
 speak to him again in your born days; or, if ye do, ye surely 
 will hae but little satisfaction to break your faither's heart, 
 and bring him to the grave wi' sorrow and wi' shame for 
 that, Betty, that wad be the end o't." 
 
 Elizabeth heard him, and bent her head upon her bosom 
 to conceal her confusion. The parental homily was too 
 late she was already the wife of Charles Lawson. 
 
 Having thus begun our story in the middle, it is neces-
 
 CHARLES LAWSON. 211 
 
 sary that we go back, and inform the reader, in a few 
 words, that Andrew Weir was a respectable farmer on the 
 north side of the Tweed, and withal a decent and devout 
 Presbyterian, and an elder in the kirk. Charles Lawson's 
 parents were originally from Northumberland. They had 
 known better days, and, at the period we have alluded to, 
 were straggling with a hard farm in the neighbourhood of 
 Andrew Weir's. Charles was not exactly what his father- 
 in-law had described him; and, were we to express his 
 portrait in a line, we should say, he had blue eyes and a 
 broad brow, a goodly form and open heart. The ringlets 
 which parted on Elizabeth's forehead were like the raven's 
 wing, and loveliness, if . not beauty, nestled around the 
 dimples on her cheeks. Their affection for each other began 
 in childhood, and grew with their years, till it became strong 
 as their existence. 
 
 A few weeks after Andrew Weir had delivered the ad- 
 vice we have quoted to his daughter, Charles Lawson bade 
 farewell to his parents, his wife, and his country, and pro- 
 ceeded to India, where a relative of his mother's had 
 amassed a fortune, and who, while he refused to assist 
 them in their distress, had promised to make provision for 
 their son. As we are not writing a novel in three volumes, 
 we shall not describe the scene of their parting, and tell 
 with what agony, with what tears, and with what bitter 
 words, Charles tore himself from his father, his mother, and 
 his yet unacknowledged wife. The imagination of the reader 
 may supply the blank Hope urged him to go necessity 
 compelled him. 
 
 After his departure, Elizabeth drooped like an early lily 
 beneath the influence of a returning frost. There were 
 whisperings among the matrons and maidens of the neigh- 
 bouring village. They who had formerly courted her so- 
 9iety began to shun it; and even the rude clown, who 
 *ately stood abashed in her presence, approached her with
 
 212 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 indecent familiarity. The fatal whisper first reached 
 Andrew's ear at a meeting of the kirk-session, of which 
 he was a member. He returned home troubled in spirit, 
 a miserable and a humbled man, for his daughter had 
 been his pride. Poor Elizabeth confessed that she was 
 married, and attempted to prove what she affirmed. 
 But this afforded no palliation of her offence in the eyes 
 of her rigid and offended father. 
 
 " Oh, what hae I been born to suffer 1 " cried he, 
 stamping his feet upon the ground. " 0, you Witch o' 
 Endor ! you Jezebel ! you disgrace o' kith and kin ! 
 Could naething naething serve ye but breaking your 
 puir auld faither's heart? Get out o' my sicht ! get 
 out o' my sicht ! " 
 
 He remained silent for a few moments the parent 
 arose in his heart tears gathered in his eyes. 
 
 " But ye are still my bairn," he continued. " Oh 
 Betty, Betty, woman! what hae ye brocht us to ?" 
 Again lie was silent, and again proceeded 
 "But I forgie ye, Betty ! Yes, if naebody else will, your 
 faither will forgie ye for your mother's sake, for ye are a' 
 that I hae left o' her. But we canna haud up our heads 
 again in this pairt o' the country that's impossible. I've 
 lang thocht o' gaun to America; and now I'm driven 
 till't.' 
 
 He parted with his farm, and in the ensuing spring pro- 
 ceeded with his daughter to Canada. We shall not enter 
 upon his fortunes in the New World he was still broken 
 in spirit; and, after twelve years' residence, he was neither 
 richer nor happier than when he left Scotland. Elizabeth was 
 now a mother, and the smiles of her young son seemed to 
 shorten the years of her exile; yet, ever as she returned his 
 smile, the thought of the husband of her youth flashed back 
 on her remembrance, and anguish and misery shot through 
 her bosom as the eagle darteth on its prey. Her heart was
 
 CHARLES LAWSON. 213 
 
 not broken ; but it fell like a proud citadel, burying 
 the determined garrison. 
 
 Charles Lawson had not been in India many months, 
 when a party of native troops attacking the property of his 
 relative, Charles, who had fallen wounded amongst them, 
 was carried by them in their retreat into the interior of 
 the country, where, for several years, he was cut off from 
 all intercourse or communication with his countrymen. 
 On obtaining his liberty, he found that his kinsman had 
 been for some time dead, and had left him his heir. His 
 wife his parents doubt anxiety impatient affection 
 trembling hope all hastened his return. At length the 
 white cliffs of Albion appeared before him, like a fair cloud 
 spread on the unruffled bosom of the ocean; and in a few 
 days more the green hills of his childhood met his anxious 
 eye. 
 
 It was the grey hour of a summer night as he again ap- 
 proached the roof that sheltered his childhood. His horse 
 as if conscious of supporting an almost unconscious rider, 
 stopped involuntarily at the threshold. He trembled upon 
 the saddle as a leaf that rustles in the wind. He raised 
 his hand to knock at the door, but again withdrew it. The 
 inmates of the house, aroused by the sound of a horse stop- 
 ping at the door, came out to inquire the cause. Charles 
 gazed upon them for a moment it was a look of agony and 
 disappointment his heart gave one convulsive throb, and 
 the icy sweat burst from his temples. 
 
 " Does not does not Mr Lawson live here ? " he in- 
 quired, almost gasping for words to convey the question. 
 
 " Mr Lawson ! Na, na, sir," replied the senior of the 
 group, "it's lang since he gaed awa. Ye ken he gaed a' 
 wrang, puir man, and he's no lived here since the hard 
 winter, for they didna come upon this parish." 
 
 " Did not come upon this parish ! " exclaimed Charles; 
 " heaven and earth ! what do you mean ?"
 
 214 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Mean ! what wad I mean," answered the ether, " but 
 just that they were removed to their ain parish ! Is there 
 ony disgrace in that ? " 
 
 "Oh, my father! my poor mother!" cried Charles, 
 wildly. 
 
 "Mercy, sir!" rejoined the astonished farmer, "are ye 
 Maister Charles ? Bairns ! haste ye, tak the horse to the 
 stable. Losh, Charles, man, and how hae ye been ? But 
 ye dinna ken me, man; I'm your auld schulefellow, Bob 
 Graham, and this is my wife, Mysie Allan ye mind o' 
 Mysie! Haste ye, Mysie lass, kill twa ducks, and the 
 bairns and me will hool the peas. Really, Charles, man, 
 I'm sae glad to see ye ! " 
 
 During this harangue, Charles, led by his warmhearted 
 friend, had entered the dwelling of his nativity; where Mr 
 Graham again continued 
 
 " Ye aiblins dinna ken that auld Andrew Weir was sae 
 Bair in the dorts when ye gaed awa, that he set aff wi' 
 Betty for America. But I hear they are comin hame again 
 this back end. The bairn will be a stout callant noo, and 
 faith ye maun marry Betty, for she was a mensefu lass." 
 
 Charles could only reply by exclaiming 
 
 " America ! rny wife ! my child !" 
 
 Having ascertained where he would find his parents, 
 early on the following morning he departed, and about 
 five in the afternoon approached the village where he had 
 been told they resided. When near the little burying- 
 ground, he stopped to look upon the most melancholy 
 funeral procession he had ever witnessed. The humble 
 coffin was scarce coloured, and they who bore it seemed 
 tired of their burden. Three or four aged and poor-looking 
 people walked behind it. Scarce was it lowered into the 
 grave, ere all departed save one, meanly clothed in widow's 
 weeds, and bent rather with the load of grief than of years. 
 She alone lingered, weeping over the hastily-covered grave.
 
 CHARLES LAWSON. 215 
 
 " She seems poor," said Charles, " and if I cannot com- 
 fort her, I may at least- relieve her necessities; " and, fas- 
 tening his horse to the gate, he entered the churchyard. 
 
 She held an old handkerchief before her face, only re- 
 moving it at intervals to steal a hurried glance at the new- 
 made grave. 
 
 "Good woman," said Charles, as he approached her, 
 " your sorrows demand my sympathy could I assist 
 you?" 
 
 "No! no!" replied the poor widow, without raising her 
 face; " but I thank you for your kindness. Can the grave 
 give up its dead ? " 
 
 "But why should you remain Here?" said he. with emo- 
 tion; "tefl me, could not I assist you?" And he placed a 
 piece of money in her hand. 
 
 "No! no!" cried the widow, bitterly, and raising her 
 head; "oh, that Mary Lawson should have lived to be 
 offered charity on her husband's grave!" 
 
 "My mother ! Gracious heaven, my mother!" exclaimed 
 Charles, casting his arms around her neck. 
 
 Shall we describe the scene that followed ? We will not 
 we cannot. He had seen his father laid in the dust, he 
 
 had met his mother on his father's grave But we will 
 
 not go on. 
 
 It was some weeks after this that he proceeded with his 
 widowed mother to his native village, to wait the return of 
 Elizabeth. Nor had he to wait; for, on the day previous 
 to his return, Elizabeth, her son, and her father, had ar- 
 rived. Charles and his parent had reached Mr Graham's 
 the honest farmer rushed to the door, and, hurrying both 
 towards the house, exclaimed 
 
 " Now, see if you can find onybody that ye ken here !" 
 
 His Elizabeth his wife his son were there to meet 
 him; the next moment she was upon his bosom, and her 
 child clinging by her side, and gazing on his face. Eb
 
 216 TALES OP THE BORDEKS. 
 
 alternately held both to his heart the mother and her 
 son. Andrew Weir took his hand his mother wept with 
 joy, and blessed her children. Bob Graham and his Mysie 
 were as happy as their guests. Charles Lawson bought the 
 farm which Andrew Weir had formerly tenanted; and, our 
 informant adds, they live on it stilL
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 217 
 
 BON GAULTIER'S TALES. 
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD was a stirring, lively, good- 
 natured sort of person; had touched the meridian of her 
 years; was mistress of a comfortable income; and possessed, 
 withal, the privileged vivacity of a widow. Nobody gave 
 nicer tea-parties than she; nobody managed to keep such 
 a number of eligible bachelors on her visiting-list, and pos- 
 sessing, as she did, the nicest discrimination in drafting 
 these in among the young ladies under her patronage, what 
 wonder if no inconsiderable proportion of the matrimonial 
 arrangements of her friends deduced their origin from these 
 dangerously-seductive sofas in her snug little drawing- 
 room? 
 
 It was in that snug little drawing-room that Mr Simon 
 Silky first saw the future Mrs Simon; it was on one of those 
 dangerously-seductive sofas that he found courage to put 
 that question which procured him a better half, and a com- 
 fortable settlement for life for Miss Jemima Linton. 
 
 Miss Jemima Linton was still in that fluctuating period, 
 between girl and woman hood, at which young ladies giggle 
 a great deal, and seem to be always in a flutter, when Mr 
 Simon Silky first met her. She was fair in complexion, 
 with light hair and blue eyes; her face, in short, had all 
 the delicacy of a wax doll, and nearly as much expression. 
 She could say "yes, sir!" and "no, sir!" at the proper in- 
 tervals in the course of a tete-ct-tete conversation, and, when 
 warmed a little into familiarity and ease, could even ha- 
 zard an observation with reference to the weather, withoitt
 
 218 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 changing colour above twice in the course of it. In a word, 
 she was one of those excessively bashful and retiring young 
 ladies, who always look as if they thought a man was going 
 to make violent love to them, and who, if your conversation 
 happen to diverge from the beaten track of the smallest of 
 small talk, take fright, and are off as fast as possible to 
 whisper to some of their companions, " La ! what a strange 
 man that is ! " 
 
 This was the very kind of person for Mr Simon Silky, 
 who was a bit of a sentimentalist in his way. When he 
 met Miss Jemima Linton, the fair ideal on whom his fancy 
 had often dwelt seemed to be realised. He came, he saw,. 
 and was conquered. 
 
 On entering Mrs Greenwood's drawing-room, one evening 
 that he had been invited there to meet " a few friends in 
 an easy way," having arrived rather late, he found the party 
 already assembled. The fire blazed cheerfully out upon a 
 bevy of tittering misses, who were seated on either side of 
 it, whispering to each other in a timid and confidential tone, 
 with here and there a young man amongst them making 
 convulsive efforts to render himself amusing, while two or 
 three putty-faced juniors, with very white shut-collars, and 
 very brightly-polished pumps who had been called in to 
 stop gaps in quadrilles, and render themselves otherwise 
 useful sat in the background, for the most part two on a 
 chair, and speculating how many of the cakes that glistened 
 on the table they might appropriate to themselves with any 
 degree of decency. Mrs Humphrey Greenwood, the pre- 
 siding divinity of this motley gathering, vulgarly yclept a 
 "cookie-shine," was planted behind a brightly-burnished 
 brass urn of liberal dimension, that hissed loudly on the 
 table. 
 
 "Mr Simon," she exclaimed, advancing from her post 
 of honour " Mr Simon Silky, I'm so glad to see you; I 
 really thought you had been going to desert us."
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD S TEA-PARTY. 219 
 
 Our hero blustered out some inarticulate apology, to 
 which his hostess of course paid no attention, but hurried 
 on into the work of introduction. 
 
 "Mr Silky, Miss Silliman, Miss Gingerly, Miss Barbara 
 Silliman, Miss Eggemon, Miss Jemima Linton; I think you 
 know all the rest. Mr Scratcherd, you know Mr Silky." 
 Mr Scratcherd grinned an assent. "Mr Silky, Mr Slap'emup. 
 You'll find a seat for yourself somewhere. Try if some of 
 the ladies will have pity, and take you in among them." 
 
 All this time, Mr Silky was engaged in distributing a 
 comprehensive bow to everybody about him an ordeal 
 which, in any circumstances, to a nervous man like him, 
 was no joke. But his agitation had the finishing touch 
 given it by Mrs Greenwood's facetious observation as to the 
 ladies taking him IN among them. The blood rushed to his 
 temples, and he subsided into a vacant chair, with a re- 
 mark, directed to nobody in particular, as to how very 
 warm the room was. Attention having been once drawn 
 to this interesting fact, it became the topic of conversation 
 for some five minutes, which gave Mr Simon Silky time 
 to cool down, and to look about him a little. In the course 
 of his survey, his eyes alighted on Miss Jemima Linton, 
 who just at that moment happened to be scrutinising his 
 outward man. Their eyes met; a glance of quick intelli- 
 gence passed between them. The lady lowered hers, blush- 
 ing up to them as she did so; and the enraptured Simon 
 muttered to himself, "What charming confusion!" He 
 felt a novel sensation gathering about his heart. Could it 
 be love ? At first sight, too. Many deny it, but we say 
 that all genuine love is at first sight. 
 
 "He never loved, who loved not at first sight." 
 
 Mr Simon Silky was a reader of the Beauties of Shak- 
 pere. This line took possession of his head, and he mused 
 and lcx)ked ; looked and mused, till he was roused from his 
 reverie by Mrs Greenwood calling upon him to assist in
 
 220 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 handing round the " cups which cheer but not inebriate." 
 He started up, with a very vague notion of what he was to 
 be about, and grasping a tea-cup, which his hostess in- 
 formed him was Miss Jemima Linton's, in one hand, and a 
 plate of cheesecakes in the other, he stumbled up to the lady, 
 and consigning the cakes to her outstretched hand, held out 
 the tea-cup to Miss Eggemon, who sat next, inquiring if she 
 would please to be helped to a little cake. Miss Eggemon 
 tittered, and exclaimed, 
 
 "Well, I never!" 
 
 "Gracious! the like of that, you know!" simpered Miss 
 Silliman, burying her face in Miss Eggemon' s neck. 
 
 "How very absurd!" sneered Miss Gingerly, who was 
 verging to old-maidishness, and had a temper in which 
 vinegar was the principal ingredient. 
 
 "Bless me, Mr Silky! what are you about?" cried Mrs 
 Greenwood. 
 
 "Oh why yes no I see beg pardon dear me!" 
 stammered poor Silky, reddening like an enraged turkey- 
 cock, as he handed Miss Linton the cup, out of which the 
 greater part of its contents had by this time been shaken, 
 and seizing the dish of cakes with a sudden jerk, deposited 
 one-half of them in the lady's lap, and the other half on the 
 carpet. 
 
 "Tell me, where is fancy bread?" said Mr Horatio 
 Slap'emup, who was a wit in his own small way, pointing 
 to the cakes, which our hero was endeavouring to bring to- 
 gether again from the different corners into which they had 
 wandered. A general laugh greeted him on every side as 
 he rose from his knees covered with confusion. He looked 
 at the fair Jemima as he did so. There was not the ves- 
 tige of a smile on her face. " Good kind soul ! she does not 
 join in the vulgar mirth of these unfeeling creatures!" 
 thought the unhappy Silky. " She pities me, and pity is 
 akin to love." It did not strike him that there might be
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 22 1 
 
 another reason for her gravity. The spilled tea and greasy 
 cheesecake had spoiled her white muslin dress irremediably, 
 for that night at least a circumstance calculated certainly 
 to make any young lady melancholy enough; but this never 
 entered the brain of Mr Simon Silky. Happy man ! 
 "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 
 
 "With some difficulty he regained his chair, after stum- 
 bling over a footstool, and crushing the tail of a King 
 Charles cocker, that was snorting on the hearthrug in all 
 the offensiveness of canine obesity. His distress was at its 
 climax. 
 "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions," 
 
 thought he, recurring once more to the Beauties of Shak- 
 spere. His ears felt as if they had been newly scalded, and 
 objects floated in hazy confusion before his eyes. He com- 
 menced sipping his tea with desperate energy, wishing for 
 a moment that it had been so much prussic acid. The 
 patter of many voices sounded in his ears. They must be 
 talking of him, " for they laughed consumedly;" and that 
 confounded Slap'emup was obviously getting up a reputa- 
 tion for wit by cutting minute jokes at his expense. 
 
 "You've been at the Exhibition, Mr Silky," said Mrs 
 Greenwood, recalling him from the state of mental imbe- 
 cility into which he was fast sinking. 
 
 " The Exhibition, you said, ma'am ! Yes, yes, certainly, 
 the Exhibition. Oh yes !" rejoined Mr Silky, struggling to 
 concentrate his scattered faculties. 
 
 "Well, what is your opinion about the portrait?" con- 
 tinued his hostess. 
 
 "Portrait, really which of them there's so many?" 
 
 "Why, Mr Silky, what has come over you to-night? The 
 ladies have been like to pull each other to pieces, for the 
 last five minutes, about the portrait of an officer a little to 
 the left of the door of the first room; and, I declare, you 
 have not heard a word that has been going. Pretty doings,
 
 222 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Mr Simon; and who, may I ask, is the happy lady that so 
 -engrosses your thoughts?" 
 
 " Oh, Mrs Greenwood!" 
 
 "Well, well, then, if it's a secret, I won't press it! But 
 what is your opinion of the portrait ? Miss Barbara Silli- 
 man here maintains it is beauty in the abstract." 
 
 " Oh he's quite a love of a man !" broke in Miss Barbara, 
 in a rapture of affectation; whereat Miss Gingerly appeared 
 mightily shocked, and pursed up her mouth till it looked like 
 a parched apple. 
 
 " But Miss Linton, on the contrary, says she thinks it 
 rather plain for a military man. Now, we want your deci- 
 sion on this knotty point." 
 
 " Oh, why, really a portrait of an officer, I think you 
 said. Fair complexion, flaxen ringlets, and light blue eyes 
 beautiful, indeed! That is to say I don't know; but" 
 and here poor Silky looked hopelessly about for an idea 
 " upon the whole, I think I declare for Miss Linton." 
 
 " Well, really, Mr Simon, that is coming to the point. 
 Jemima, my dear, do you hear what Mr Silky says ? De- 
 clares for you already! Upon my word, a fair proposal!" 
 said Mrs Greenwood, catching up the allusion, and looking 
 excessively matronly and significant. 
 
 " Fair complexion, flaxen ringlets, light blue eyes!" broke 
 in Miss Barbara Silliman, with that delicate spiteftilness to 
 which young ladies are subject, when they suspect any of 
 their rivals of having produced an impression on one of the 
 male creatures. " A pretty officer, indeed ! It's you, Miss 
 Linton, that Mr Silky means. Quite a conquest, I declare." 
 Having said this for the benefit of the company, she mur- 
 mured to herself, " I wonder at the man's taste. A gawky 
 minx!" 
 
 If Mr Silky felt uncomfortable before, he was now reduced 
 to the lowest pitch of personal misery. He tried to smile, 
 as if he took the thing as a good joke; but the contortions
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 223 
 
 <jf his visage were galvanic. Everybody, he was sure, was 
 looking at him, and he stammered out some inarticulate 
 words, by way of extricating himself from his awkward 
 position. What they were he knew not; but they only 
 seemed to have made matters worse; for another titter ran 
 round the circle, and showers of badinage assailed him on 
 every side. Mr Simon Silky began to speculate whether 
 sitting on the points of a score of red-hot toasting-forks could 
 be worse than his present torment. 
 
 He was pursuing this agreeable train of reflection, when 
 the removal of the table to a corner of the room, and a gene- 
 ral commotion, occasioned by the pushing back of sofas, and 
 the laying away of chairs, made him aware that dancing was 
 about to commence. The men, as they always do on these 
 occasions, clustered together near the door, pulling on gloves 
 such of them as had them and talking very thick and 
 fast about nothing at all. 
 
 " Miss Gingerly, may I ask you to give the young folks a 
 set of quadrilles?" inquired Mrs Greenwood. 
 
 " Certainly with a great deal of pleasure," coldly re- 
 sponded Miss Gingerly, blowing her nose with the end of 
 her pocket - handkerchief, which she extracted partially 
 from her black satin bag for the purpose, and feeling par- 
 ticularly venomous at being cut out of the dance, and her 
 very, very faint chance of captivating a partner therein. 
 
 " Oh, thank you," said Miss Eggemon, laying her hands 
 affectionately on Miss Gingerly's wrists. " You play quad- 
 rilles so nicely." And then turning to Miss Jemima Linton, 
 Miss Eggemon whispered, confidentially, "Such a player 
 you never heard. Not three bars in time. How provoking 
 Mrs Greenwood should ask her to play. Just listen; did 
 you ever hear the like of that?" 
 
 Miss Gingerly had laid her black satin bag on rhc piaii^ 
 drawn herself up with all the frosty-faced dignity of waning 
 maidenhood, and was performing a prelude before commeno-
 
 224 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 ing operations, which was chiefly remarkable for its ingenious 
 flights from key to key, and bewildering accumulation of 
 false concords. 
 
 " Gentlemen, find partners for yourselves," said the lively 
 Mrs Greenwood; and the gentlemen, after looking at one 
 another, disentangled themselves from the knot into which 
 they were gathered, and, shuffling up each to the lady that 
 pleased his fancy, solicited the honour of her hand. The 
 couples had taken their places, and Miss Gingerly was 
 dashing away into the heart of the " Highland Laddie," 
 when it was discovered that there was still a couple awant- 
 ing. 
 
 "Mr Silky, you dance?" said all the men at once to that 
 gentleman, who was sitting pensively in a corner. 
 
 "Oh, really!" replied Silky, smiling a sickly smile, and 
 making vague protestations of inability. 
 
 "Not dance!" said the vivacious Mr Slap'emup. "Fie 
 on you ! oh, fie ! And Miss Linton looking at you there, 
 like Eve on the eve of Paradise, as if 
 
 ' She would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.'" 
 
 There was nothing for it but that Silky should make up 
 to Miss Jemima, and lead her out to dance. This he did 
 among the nods, and winks, and whispers of all present; and 
 by the time he got into his place in the quadrille, he did 
 not very well know which end of him was uppermost. 
 Away rattled Miss Gingerly at the "Highland Laddie," 
 and away bounced the dancers through the mazes of the 
 figure. Dancing a quadrille is with some people no trifling 
 matter, and Mr Simo'n Silky was one of these. He bent to 
 it all the energies of his not over-powerful mind; and, 
 while it lasted, beyond a passing word or two, he had no 
 conversation to bestow upon his partner. It was amusing 
 to see with what earnestness he watched the movements of 
 those who preceded him, and, when his own turn came, the 
 exhibition he made would have made a Timor grin. First,
 
 MRS HUMPHREY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 225 
 
 he threw out his arms to steady himself, and then jerking 
 forward his right foot, brought himself suddenly into the 
 centre of the floor, where he began throwing his legs con- 
 fusedly about, till they seemed to be involved in hopeless 
 entanglement. All the time he kept his eyes fixed anxiously 
 upon his shoe-ties. It was obviously a critical affair with 
 him to preserve his equipoise, and each time that he got 
 back safely to his place, a sigh broke from him, as if a 
 great burden had been taken off his mind, and he wiped 
 the sweat away that glistered in heavy beads upon his 
 brow. At length the quadrille ended. Mr Silky thanked 
 heaven; and, leading the fair Jemima to a seat, planted 
 himself at her side, and manfully endeavoured to open up a 
 conversation with her. 
 
 Dance succeeded dance, and by degrees the elements of 
 the party got tolerably well interfused. Poor Miss Gin- 
 gerly wrought away at her everlasting set of Scotch quad- 
 rilles, and nobody ever volunteered to relieve her of her 
 task, " she played so welL" At intervals some of the young 
 ladies quivered through a fashionable ballad, and occasion- 
 ally an attempt was made to get up one of those melancholy 
 chants, which, by some strange misnomer, pass current in 
 society for glees. In these, Mr Scratcherd, who sang bass, 
 distinguished himself so signally, that loud calls were made 
 upon him for a song, and Mr Scratcherd, after a little pr 
 liminary modesty, yielded to the call. He then began 
 raving about an " Old Oak Tree," and groaned up and down 
 the scale, till his voice became lost in the bottom of his 
 neckcloth. Serious fears were entertained whether he 
 would be able to get it up again, but these happily turned 
 out to be unfounded. Again his voice mounted to its 
 natural level, and after rolling about for some time, " grat- 
 ing harsh discord," wore itself out in a cadence of con- 
 fused gutturals. "Bravo, bravo," cried the men. "A 
 v ery fine quality of bass," exclaimed his friend, Slap'emup, 
 
 VOL. LS. H
 
 226 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 who affected to be a judge; and Mr Scratcherd blew hia 
 nose, and fell back in his chair in a state of great personal 
 satisfaction. 
 
 With a thoughtful regard for the comforts of her guests, 
 Mrs Greenwood had, early in the evening, thrown open her 
 little back drawing-room, in which were placed abundance 
 of refreshments, to sustain them through the fatigues of 
 dancing and conversation. By a succession of visits to this 
 room, Mr Simon Silky had succeeded in giving firmness to 
 his nerves. He was gradually becoming less and less bash- 
 ful. There must have been something bracing about the 
 atmosphere of the apartments, for to this, and not to the 
 bottle of port, to which he was observed to have frequent 
 recourse, must be attributed that jauntiness of step and slip- 
 shod volubility of tongue which he now displayed. He 
 danced every dance, and for the most part with Miss Jemima 
 for his partner. What though his uncouth gestures pro 
 yoked a smile, and his assiduities to the young lady were 
 commented on at every hand. He cared not. His spirit 
 was in the third heaven of exaltation, and the whole world 
 might go hang for him. 
 
 " Miss Linton," he exclaimed, seizing her hand fervently 
 they were seated on a sofa in the back drawing-room, 
 while the others were labouring through a country-dance 
 in the front " Miss Linton, hear me for a moment. Let 
 me use this opportunity of stating what I have long felt 
 what I now feel what I shall always feel." And again Mr 
 Silky pressed her hand tenderly in both of his. 
 
 " Oh, sir !" timidly responded the lady. 
 
 "Yes, adorable Jemima! I can no longer repress my 
 emotion. You see before you a victim to your charms. The 
 moment I beheld you, I don't know how it was, but my 
 heart thrilled with a transport delightful as it was new. I 
 felt I felt in short, T felt as I never felt before. My senses 
 forsook me, and I said and did I know not what. These
 
 MES HUMPHKEY GKEENWOOD S TEA-PARTY. 227 
 
 soulless creatures treated my confusion with ridicule; but, 
 in your eyes, methought I could read pity, compassion, com- 
 miseration, sympathy. Say, was I right, or was I misled 
 by the fond delusions of my own passion?" 
 
 "Oh, sir!" again exclaimed the bewildered Jemima. 
 
 " That look ! I was not then deceived. Oh extend that 
 pity into love ! I lay myself and my fortune at your feet." 
 And here Mr Simon Silky slipped off the sofa and down 
 upon his knees, overcome partly with love and partly with 
 intoxication. " Dearest Jemima ! say only that you will be 
 mine?" 
 
 "Oh, sir!" once more sighed the blushing maiden, drop- 
 ping her head upon the shoulder of her suitor, who ac- 
 knowledged the movement by snatching a kiss from her 
 pouting lips. 
 
 " Ods ! that came twangingly off. I'm afraid we're like 
 to spoil sport here," exclaimed Mr Slap'emup, who at this 
 moment entered the room, with Miss Gingerly on his arm. 
 
 "Gracious! how very improper!" cried Miss Gingerly, 
 wishing from the depth of her soul that it had only been 
 her own case. 
 
 "What's improper, ma'am?" retorted Silky, turning to 
 her a look of drunken gravity, and endeavouring, with no 
 little difficulty, to get on his legs again. " If I choose to 
 kiss this young lady, or this young lady chooses to kiss me, 
 that's no business of yours, I suppose 1 ' Have not saints 
 lips, and holy palmers, too?' as the divine Shakspere says; 
 and what are lips for, I should like to know, if not to 
 kiss? Don't frown at me, Miss Graveairs. I'm a man a 
 man, ma'am, and I shall do just as I please. Shan't I, Je- 
 mima, dear?" 
 
 He turned for an answer to his appeal; but the young 
 lady had left the room. 
 
 " Jemima, I say," continued Silky, getting more and more 
 ofercome. He looked around the room; and, finding no
 
 228 T.ALES OF THE BORDEES. 
 
 trace of the lady, began chanting in a lackadaisical 
 
 tone 
 
 ' And has she then fail'd in her truth, 
 
 The beautiful maid I adore 1' 
 
 But I don't care that for her!" And he tried to snap his 
 fingers; but failed in the attempt. " It's an ungrateful world 
 a vile world." 
 
 " Oh, gracious me ! let me away," exclaimed Miss Gin- 
 gerly, in alarm. " He's certainly tipsy." 
 
 " Tipsy tipsy ! Who's tipsy? Let me see her. Woman, 
 woman, to get yourself into such a state ! I'm ashamed 
 of you; I am indeed. But it's the weakness of the sex. 
 ' Frailty, thy name is woman ! ' " 
 
 This apostrophe was addressed to some visionary female 
 that flitted before Mr Silky's mental optics, and whom he 
 followed, with his hands groping before him, with the voice 
 and gesture of Mr Charles Kean pursuing the airdrawn 
 dagger in the character of Macbeth. "Laugh away; it's 
 very amusing, isn't it? Ns^ fiddled while Rome Avas burn- 
 ing; but I know better." 
 
 " Mr Silky, you'll bettei 1 go home," said Mrs Greenwood, 
 who, with the remainder of the party, had by this time en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 " Home ! exactly so. I am at home, my charmer per- 
 fectly at home; and you're at home; we're all at home. But 
 no more wine, Mrs Greenwood; temperance and teetotalism 
 for ever.' We are beset with temptations in this wicked 
 world temptations, I say Jemima, you're an angel ! It 
 is as much as a man can do to preserve his uprightness." 
 And, in proof that it was more than he could, down rolled 
 our hero on the floor, in a profound stupor. 
 
 " Carry Master Silence to bed," remarked the ingenious 
 Slap'emup, highly tickled with the catastrophe that had be- 
 fallen the too too bashful Silky. 
 
 A coach was procured, and he was conveyed to his lodg-
 
 MRS HUMPHKEY GREENWOOD'S TEA-PARTY. 229 
 
 Ings, where the sun found him in bed at noon next day. 
 His dreams had been of the most ghastly kind. He had 
 fancied himself compelled, by a fiend, to swallow huge gob- 
 lets of port wine, strongly adulterated with brimstone, and 
 dragged about by a fury, who held his neck within a halter. 
 The fiend was Slap'emup the fury, Miss Jemima Linton. 
 He started from his dream, and with his hand pressed 
 against his aching head, fell to adjusting the confused re- 
 miniscences of the previous evening's proceedings. He re- 
 membered nothing but that he had proposed for the hand 
 of some young lady or other, and had been accepted. Well 
 for him it was that memory went no farther, or he would 
 never have found courage to visit Mrs Greenwood again. 
 That he did visit her again, however, may be inferred from 
 an announcement which the newspapers, not many weeks 
 after, gave to the public: 
 
 " Married at Edinburgh, on the 6th instant, Mr Simon 
 Silky to Miss Jemima Linton."
 
 230 TALES OF THB BORDERS. 
 
 THE KECLUSE OP THE HEBRIDES. 
 
 "Still caring, despairing, 
 
 Must be my bitter doom; 
 My woes here shall close ne'er 
 But with the closing tomb." BURNS. 
 
 I RESIDED some years ago in the Island of Tyree, which is 
 one of the most western of the Hebrides; and, in the course 
 of my business, had often occasion to cross by the base of 
 Ben Chinevarah, whose rugged and sterile appearance im- 
 presses the mind with a sickening sadness. The narrow 
 footpath sometimes dives into the deep and sullen gloom of 
 the mountain glen, whose silence is unbroken, save by the 
 torrent's red rush, and again winds along the edge of the 
 steep precipice, among the loose rocks that have been hurled 
 from their beds aloft by the giant efforts of time, where 
 the least false step would precipitate the unwary traveller 
 into the abyss below. There no cheering sound of mirth 
 was ever heard, the blithe whistle of the ploughman never 
 swelled upon its echoes, nor often did the reaper's song dis- 
 turb its gloomy silence. The ear is assailed, on the one 
 hand, by the discordant and dismal notes of the screech- 
 owl; and, on the other, by the angry roar of the waves that 
 beat, with ceaseless lash, the broken shore. A small hut 
 now and then bursts upon the view, raising its lowly roof 
 beneath the shelter of the mountain rock, and adds to the 
 cheerlessness of the scene. One of thoso small cottages 
 often attracted my notice, by its external neatness, and the 
 laborious industry by which a small garden had been formed 
 around the dwelling; and by degrees I ingratiated myself
 
 THE RECLUSE OF THE HEBRIDES. 231 
 
 into the good graces of its owner, who, I found, by his 
 knowledge and conversation, was of a different cast from 
 the dwellers around him. I knew by his accent that he 
 was a foreigner; and, feeling an interest in him, I often en- 
 deavoured to gain some account from him of the early part 
 of his life; but when the subject was hinted at, he at once 
 changed the conversation. 
 
 Having occasion last summer to spend some days at the 
 house of a friend in Argyleshire, I availed myself of this 
 opportunity to visit my old acquaintance at Tyree. I 
 found him stretched on the bed of sickness, and fast verg- 
 ing towards his end. When last I had seen him, his ap- 
 pearance, though infirm, evinced but few signs of physical 
 decay; and, though the storms of scores of winters had 
 blown over him, still his eye sparkled with animation, and 
 his raven locks retained the fresh and jetty colour of the 
 native of " Italia' s sunny clime." But now, how changed 
 the appearance ! His eyeballs were dim, deep sunken in 
 their sockets; a few scattered grey hairs waved carelessly 
 over his finely -arched eyebrows; and his forehead and 
 cheeks were deeply furrowed with the traces of sickness 
 and secret wo. When I entered the lowly dwelling, he 
 raised his lacklustre eyes, and stretched forth his hand to 
 meet my grasp. 
 
 "And is Heaven yet so land," said he, raising his wasted 
 hand in thanks to the Disposer of all good, "as to send one 
 pitying friend to soothe my dreary and departing moments? 
 Ah,, sir, the hand of the grim tyrant is laid heavily upon 
 me, and I must soon appear in the presence of an offended 
 Deity. If you knew how awful are the feelings of a mind 
 loaded with iniquity, of a soul immersed in guilt, when the 
 last moment is approaching that separates us from morta- 
 lity, and the misdeeds of a wicked life stand in ghastly 
 array, adding stings to an already seared conscience, you 
 would shrink at what you BOW deem the gay dreams of
 
 232 
 
 youthful frailty, and shun the delusive and seducing snares 
 of a wretched world." 
 
 Pointing to a block of wood alongside his pallet bed, he 
 desired me to be seated, and, after drying the tear of sorrow 
 from his swollen eye, he thus proceeded: 
 
 "Often, in those moments when the sweet beams of 
 health were mine, have you desired a recital of the events 
 of my past life; but a feeling of shame withheld me from 
 the task. Now, when I have nothing to fear but death and 
 the dread hereafter, if you will have the patience to hear 
 me, I will briefly unfold to you the causes which reduced 
 me from a state of affluence, to become a fugitive amid the 
 rugged rocks and the inclement skies of a foreign land." 
 
 I assented, and he went on with his story. 
 
 "My name." said he, "in the more fortunate years of 
 my life, was Alphouso; and the city of Venice gave me 
 birth. I was the only child of an opulent citizen, and need 
 scarcely inform you that no restraint was laid upon my in- 
 clinations when a child; and the dawn of manhood beheld 
 me plunged amid every intemperance which that luxurious 
 city then afforded. Money was plentifully supplied me by 
 my parents to support my extravagances; and I sought after 
 happiness among the rounds of pleasure and the gay circles 
 of society; but I only met with desires ungratified, hopes 
 often frustrated, and wishes never satisfied. I had a friend. 
 He was called Theodore. I loved him as clearly as a selfish 
 being like myself could love any one. He shared in all my 
 pleasures. 
 
 " An amorous, jealous, and revengeful disposition is com- 
 monly laid to the share of the Italians; and, with sorrow I 
 confess, that formed the principal ingredient of my cha- 
 racter. I had reached my twentieth year of thoughtlessness 
 and folly, when, one night at the opera, a young lady in an 
 opposite box attracted my attention; and my eyes were in- 
 sensibly riveted upon the beauteous figure. I need not tell
 
 THE EECLUSE OF THE HEBRIDES. 233 
 
 you that she was beautiful she was loveliness itself. I 
 will not trespass on your time in describing the new and 
 pleasing sensations that arose in my bosom; you have trod 
 the magic paths of pleasure, and bowed to the charms of 
 beauty: they are not unknown to you. 
 
 " I felt that all my libertine pursuits had only been the 
 shadows of pleasure; and from that moment I determined 
 to abandon them, and fix my love on her alone. We be- 
 came acquainted, and I found that she was as worthy of 
 the purest love as my fond wishes desired. She was the 
 only child of Count Rudolpho; and, for the space of three 
 months, I was a constant visitor at her father's palazzo. In 
 due time I pleaded the force of my love. But what were 
 the sensations of my soul, when the tear started from her 
 eye of beauty, and the dreadful sentence burst upon my 
 ear ' I am the bride of Theodore ! ' 
 
 " I burst from her presence with a palpitating heart, and 
 returned homewards, agitated by the conflicting passions of 
 despair and revenge. I drew my sword from its sheath, 
 and promised the blood of Theodore, of the friend of my 
 bosom, to its point. The steel trembled in my grasp as 
 the vow fell from my lips, and my heart recoiled at the 
 idea of shedding blood; but the still small voice was an 
 unequal match with the baneful principles of a corrupted 
 soul." 
 
 The recluse stopped, and the loud sobs of sorrow and re- 
 pentance alone burst upon the gloomy silence of the scene. 
 The hectic flush of fever played and wantoned across his 
 pallid features, as if it seemed to exult in the weakness of 
 mortality, and delight in the loveliness of its own soul- 
 loathed ravages. The tears dropped large and plentiful 
 from his eyes, and his spirit seemed bended and broken 
 with the racking remembrance. I bent over the wasted 
 form of the wretched penitent, and while I poured the 
 voice of comfort in his ear, and wiped the tears from his
 
 234 TALES OF THE BOEDERS. 
 
 eyes, his soul resumed its wonted firmness, and even a 
 smile beamed upon his blanched lips, as he grasped my 
 hand, and pressed it to his bosom in silence, and with 
 thankfulness. 
 
 " Behold ! " said he, drawing an old sword from beneath 
 the side of his miserable straw pallet "behold this steel, 
 red-rusted with the blood of Theodore, from which the bit- 
 ter tears of sixty long winters have been unable to efface 
 the stain. Pardon the feelings of an infirm old man. My 
 soul weeps blood at the remembrance. 
 
 " I pitched upon the bridal eve of Theodore for that of 
 his death, and the seizure of his bride; and hired the leader 
 of a band of ruffians to assist me in the scheme. The fatal 
 night, so big with horror, at last arrived. The sun sank 
 sullenly into the shades of the west, and his departing 
 gleams glanced redly and angrily upon me. The raven 
 wings of early night fell upon Venice; and I stepped into 
 my gondola, with my hired followers. We set forward 
 upon our errand. The palazzo of Count Albert was soon 
 gained. Busy nature waxed calm and hushed; the artisan 
 had retired to the sweets of his lowly but happy cottage; 
 the convent-bell had tolled, solemn and slow, the vesper 
 knell; and then 
 
 ' Uprose the yellow moon/ 
 
 silvering the rippling waters of the canals, and glancing its 
 beams upon the glittering palaces of Venice. It was a 
 lovely night; but my soul ill brooked the calm grandeur of 
 the scene. 
 
 " By the treachery of a servant, my comrades were ad- 
 mitted into Count Rudolpho's grounds, whilst I attended 
 the nuptial rites with the well-dissembled face of friendship. 
 Joy was dancing in every eye but mine. My hand trembled 
 at times on the hilt of my poniard, and I awaited the 
 favourable moment with a degree of impatience bordering 
 on frenzy. Many a fair maid was there, tripping amid the
 
 THE RECLUSE OF THE HEBRIDES. 235 
 
 joyous throng, whose beauty might have warmed the frigid 
 heart of an anchorite; but my eyes and mind were upon the 
 dear, dear Violetta: she was lovelier than ever, but she was 
 the spouse of Theodore. 
 
 " The garden of the count was remarkably beautiful, and 
 the trees in it had been grandly festooned with variegated 
 lamps on the present occasion. The night was pleasant and 
 calm, and the youthful couple retired from the crowded 
 saloon to the garden for a few minutes, to enjoy the fresh- 
 ness of nature. I silently followed, unperceived, till they 
 seated themselves in an arbour, whose beauty was unworthy 
 of a villain's tread. Then suddenly I presented myself at 
 the entrance; and the unsuspicious Theodore rose to em- 
 brace me. How shall I give utterance to the rest? My 
 friend rose to embrace me; and I drew my poniard, and was 
 about to plunge it into his bosom, when Violetta, whose 
 attention this action had not escaped, rushed between us, 
 to stay my hand. Horror ! her heart received the blow I 
 had intended for her husband. She uttered a piercing cry,, 
 and fell, a bleeding corpse, at my feet. 
 
 " The sound attracted the attention of my ruffianly asso- 
 ciates, who were ready at hand to carry off the bride, and 
 they hurried to the spot. Theodore, at first surprised and 
 terror-stricken, now roused himself to energy. With the 
 fury of a maniac, he rushed upon me, and felled me sense- 
 less to the earth. How long I lay in this situation I know 
 not; but when my senses returned, the palazzo was in flames, 
 and the clashing of swords and the groans of the wounded 
 sounded horribly in my ears. And this was my doing. I 
 had been the means of introducing into Count Rudolpho's 
 grounds a band of desperadoes, to whom bloodshed was fa- 
 miliar; and I doubted not that they were at their work of 
 blood and rapine. I repented of the deed, but it was too 
 late. 
 
 "The munlered Violetta lay on the ground at a short
 
 236 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 distance from me; the moonbeams played full upon her 
 ghastly and distorted features; and her robes, her bridal 
 robes, were deeply stained with blood. Her pulse had long 
 since ceased to beat, and she felt cold to the touch. Re- 
 solved that no profane hand should consign to the earth her 
 blessed remains, I threw the body across my shoulder, and 
 fled with it from the garden. I felt not the weight of the 
 burden, for excitement made me 'hardy as the Ne'mean 
 lion's nerve.' I soon reached the canal, leaped into my 
 gondola with my precious burden, and, shortly afterwards-, 
 gained my father's palace. Ere the moon set, I had dug a 
 deep grave in his garden, in which I buried her on whom I 
 had doated, bedewing the earth with my tears as I pro- 
 ceeded in my work. 
 
 "It was at length completed; and, with the morning's 
 dawn, I fled from Venice. Despair added wings to my 
 flight, and the land of France received me in her fostering 
 arms. I have, since that time, wandered in many a clime, 
 to wear away my grief, but in vain. I have fought under 
 the banner of your king; and, though my arm was never 
 palsied in the day of battle, death has been denied me. I 
 now lie here, aged and forlorn. The hand of death is heavy 
 on me, and chilly tremors are creeping over my exhausted 
 frame. The just decrees of God have denied me even a 
 friend to close my weary eyes; and my dust must mingle 
 with the dust of strangers, far, far from the sepulchre of my 
 fathers, and the home of my childhood." 
 
 After a short pause, the Recluse continued 
 
 " Here, sir" said he, " take this sword it has been the 
 constant companion of my travels its blade is unsullied 
 by ignoble blood; and when you look upon it, after the 
 grave receives the wretched Alphonso, it may convey a 
 lesson that volumes could not inculcate." 
 
 I received the sword from his hand, which was trembling 
 and cold. He turned his face from me; and before I had
 
 THE RECLUSE OF THE HEBRIDES. 237 
 
 time to speak, a deep groan announced his departure to the 
 mansions of another world. I called the inmates of the ad- 
 joining cottage, who took charge of the body; and I left the 
 spot with a feeling which words cannot express, but which 
 will be understood by those who look with the eye of pity 
 upon the errors of a fellow-mortal
 
 238 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 ELLEN AKUNDEL. 
 
 ELLEN ARTTNDEL was the only daughter of an officer in the 
 British service, who, with his sword for his patrimony, had 
 entered early into the profession of arms as the means of 
 maintenance; and he had, accordingly, pursued it with that 
 enthusiastic spirit of honour which is dictated by the consi- 
 derations of family pride, the hope of fame, the dread of dis- 
 grace, and the most ardent love of glory. 
 
 The utmost height, however, to which he had risen, when 
 he committed the folly of matrimony, by uniting his destiny 
 to that of the portionless daughter of a venerable, respect- 
 able, unbeneficed clergyman, was that of a lieutenant in a 
 foot regiment. By dint of careful management on the part 
 of his wife, they contrived to live happily together, nor did 
 the increase of their family for Ellen made her appearance 
 within the first year after their marriage add to their diffi- 
 culties. 
 
 In the care and superintendence of their darling daugh- 
 ter, did their years roll on in humble content. If they 
 heaved a sigh, it was for their Ellen's future welfare; if 
 they breathed a wish, it was to see her placed in a situation 
 which might guard her against the attacks of poverty, and 
 the designs of iniquity. From the former, they were aware, 
 beauty and accomplishments would prove no shield; and 
 they trembled when they reflected that they might prove 
 the most powerful incitement to the latter. The sweets 
 of life are not to be enjoyed without its accompanying em- 
 bitterments. The regiment in which Mr Arundel served 
 received orders to embark for America, in transports already 
 prepared for the reception of the British forces. On the
 
 ELLEN ARUNDEL. 239 
 
 communication of this intelligence, so subversive of their 
 little plans of economy and felicity, Mrs Arundel earnestly 
 entreated that she and Ellen might be the companions of 
 his voyage. For awhile Mr Arundel would not consent to 
 this, from a fear of incurring expense which they were 
 unable to support; but all the difficulties which the nar- 
 rowness of their finances suggested were obviated by a 
 thousand little arrangements, the ingenious devices of 
 love; and the command of a company, which was con- 
 ferred upon him before the embarkation, relieved them 
 from their anxiety. 
 
 Few events happened, either during their voyage, or on 
 their arrival at Boston, except that the assiduities of a 
 young officer of another regiment, who accompanied them 
 in the transport, seemed to have made some impression on 
 the heart of Ellen Arundel. She listened to his tales of 
 love, with the full sanction of her parents, and sighed out 
 the confession that his passion was returned. Mr Mere- 
 dith was formed on the model which C"T)tain Arundel had, 
 in idea, fixed on for the husband of his Ellen. To the qua- 
 lifications of a soldier, he added those which most highly 
 adorn private life; nor was his income limited, for he was 
 the only son of a gentleman of fortune. But both Captain 
 Arundel and Mr Meredith were too regardful of decency 
 and propriety to hasten an event of so much importance, 
 till the father of the young gentleman had been made ac- 
 quainted with the attachment; and letters from Captain 
 Arundel and the lover were, accordingly, prepared, for the 
 purpose of being despatched to Europe by the first ship that 
 should sail. 
 
 But alas ! these precautions were soon rendered unneces- 
 sary, by events which dissolved the bonds of affection. On 
 that day when the attack of Bunker's Hill occasioned a car- 
 nage which thinned the British ranks, Captain Arundel and 
 Mr Meredith stood foremost in the bloody contest. Accident
 
 240 TALES OF THE BOKDEES. 
 
 had placed them in the same brigade: they fought and fell 
 together. The body of the young officer was carried off by 
 the Americans; and the mortally- wounded captain conveyed 
 to the habitation of his wretched wife and daughter, where, 
 shortly afterwards, he expired. 
 
 The keen and piercing anguish felt by Ellen and her mo- 
 ther, in consequence of this sorrowful event, had changed 
 to silent and corroding melancholy, when they embarked for 
 their native land, after having received every attention which 
 the governor and garrison could offer as a tribute to the 
 memory of the deceased. On their arrival in Britain, a pen- 
 sion was granted to Mrs Arundel, which, in the event of her 
 death, was to be continued to her daughter; and with this 
 they retired to a small village northward of the Scottish 
 metropolis, where a maiden sister of Captain Arundel, who 
 was remarkably fond of Ellen, resided. 
 
 But, as no retirement will conceal the charms of beauty, 
 nor any circle, however confined, prevent the fame of accom- 
 plishments from spreading beyond its limit, Mr Newton, a 
 widower of independent fortune, not much past the prime 
 of Hfe, having been told of Ellen, resolved to visit'the Arun- 
 dels. An opportunity soon presented itself. The house 
 which the ladies inhabited was advertised for sale; and, 
 under pretence of an intention to purchase, he wrote Mrs 
 Arundel, desiring to know when it would be convenient for 
 him to call; to which Mrs Arundel returned a polite an- 
 swer, naming an early day. 
 
 Mr Newton went; and, after he had viewed the house 
 and gardens with the air of an intending purchaser, Mrs 
 Arundel, desirous of cultivating the acquaintance of so 
 distinguished a neighbour, asked him to stay tea; which 
 being unhesitatingly accepted, he was introduced to the 
 fair, the amiable, the still mourning Ellen. Prepared by 
 the universal voice to admire, love was the immediate con- 
 sequence of a visit, which he requested leave to repeat, in
 
 ELLEN AKUNDEL. 241 
 
 terms with which civility could not refuse to comply; and 
 a few weeks confirmed Mr Newton the ardent and the pro- 
 fessed lover of Ellen. But her heart was still engaged; nor 
 could she abandon even a hopeless passion. The character, 
 the fortune, the unobjectionable person of Mr Newton, were 
 urged to her, by her only friends, with such energy, but 
 mildness, of persuasion, that, enforced by the declarations 
 of her admirer, she was prevailed upon to promise him her 
 hand, though not her heart; and a day was named for the 
 celebration of their nuptials. 
 
 The necessary preparations now engaged the attention of 
 Mr Newton and the two matron ladies; whilst Ellen pas- 
 sively yielded to the assiduities of her friends, and suffered 
 the adornments of her person, and the intended provisions 
 of settlement to be adjusted, without once interfering. 
 
 A few mornings before the appointed day, as Ellen was 
 seated at breakfast with her mother and aunt, a note was 
 put into her hands. She saw at a glance that it was from Mr 
 Newton; and she immediately handed it across the table to 
 Mrs Arundcl, who read: 
 
 "MADAM, That your heart is not at all interested in 
 the intended event, you have, with candour, frequently ac- 
 knowledged to me. You will not, therefore, even wish to 
 receive an apology for my releasing you from an unsuitable 
 engagement. 
 
 "My long-lost son my son whom I had for years re- 
 signed to Heaven is restored to me; and Providence, which 
 has bestowed on me this consummate happiness, will not per- 
 mit me to add to it a wish which concerns myself. He is 
 young; he is amiable; and more worthy of your regard than 
 I am. It is my sincere wish that he should become your 
 husband. I shall, therefore, take an early opportunity of 
 introducing him to you. 
 
 "My real name is not what you have hitherto considered 
 it to be. I changed it when, on the supposed death of my 
 
 H 2
 
 242 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 son, I retired from my usual place of residence to a distant 
 part of the kingdom, to avoid the importunities of some 
 worthless relations; but, until I have the honour of disclos- 
 ing to you in person my real name, I beg to subscribe my- 
 self, Madam, yours very truly, 
 
 " J. B. NEWTON. 
 
 " To Miss Ellen Arundel" 
 
 When this most extraordinary epistle was read, Ellen 
 turned deadly pale, and would certainly have fallen to the 
 ground, had not a young man entered through the window 
 which opened out on the lawn, and caught her in his arms. 
 He was followed by Mr Newton. 
 
 " Ellen," exclaimed the latter, "behold my son!" 
 
 The sorrowing girl cast her eyes upon the form of him who 
 held her. 
 
 " Meredith!" she cried, and threw herself, weeping, upon 
 his shoulder. Her tears were tears of joy. Little more re- 
 mains to tell. Ellen Arundel gave her hand to the son on 
 the very day which had been appointed for her nuptials with 
 the father.
 
 CHATELARD. 243 
 
 CHATELAKD. 
 
 SOME time after the unfortunate Queen Mary had esta- 
 blished her court at Holyrood, on her return from France, 
 to ascend the throne of her ancestors, a stranger arrived at 
 a certain tavern or hostelry, kept by one Goodal, at the 
 foot of the Canongate of Edinburgh. The former had 
 last come from Leith, where he had been landed from a 
 French vessel some two or three hours previously. He 
 was a young man, probably about three or four and twenty, 
 tall and handsome in person, of a singularly pleasing coun- 
 tenance, and of mild and exceedingly gentleman-like de- 
 meanour. His lofty forehead and expressive eye bespoke 
 the presence of genius, or, at least, of an intellect of a very 
 high order; while his general manners indicated a refined 
 and cultivated mind. There was marked, however, on the 
 brow of the interesting stranger very palpable traces of 
 saddening thoughts his whole countenance, indeed, exhi- 
 biting the characteristics of a deep and rooted melancholy; 
 but it was of a gentle kind, and bore no likeness to the 
 stern gloominess of disappointed ambition. His sadness 
 was evidently a sadness of the heart the result of some 
 grievous pressure on its best and tenderest feelings and 
 affections. 
 
 After having partaken of some refreshment, the stranger 
 desired a small measure of wine to be brought him. This 
 order was executed by mine host in person; and, indeed, 
 from what afterwards followed, it seemed to have been 
 given with an express view to that result; for, on the land- 
 lord's placing the wine before his guest, the latter requested 
 him, with great politeness of manner, to sit down and share
 
 244 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 it with him; saying that he wanted a little information on 
 two or three particular points. Mine host, seating himself 
 as desired, expressed his readiness to afford him any informa- 
 tion of which he himself was possessed. Having thanked 
 the former for his civility, and pressed him, not in vain, to 
 taste of his own wine, the stranger said 
 
 " Is the queen, my friend, just now at Holyrood?" 
 He was answered in the affirmative. The querist paused, 
 sighed, and next inquired if she walked much abroad 
 rhat were the hours she devoted to that recreation 
 whether she was accompanied by many attendants on these 
 occasions and whether her ordinary promenade was a place 
 easy of access. Having been informed on all these points, 
 he again relapsed into thought, and again sighed profoundly. 
 After a short time, however, he once more recovered him- 
 self, and suddenly exclaimed, but more by way of soliloquy 
 than inquiry 
 
 "Is she not beautiful transcendently beautiful?" 
 Mine host, who was not a little surprised by the abruptness 
 of the question, and the enthusiasm of manner in which it 
 was expressed, replied, that she surely was "Just as bonny 
 a creature as he had ever clapt cc on a plump, sonsy, 
 nice-lookin lass." 
 
 A slight expression of disgust, or rather of horror, at the 
 homely terms employed by mine host in speaking of the 
 beauty of the queen, passed over the countenance of his 
 guest. It was, however, but momentary, and was not ob- 
 served, or at any rate not understood, by him whose lan- 
 guage had called it forth. 
 
 " Ay, beautiful is she," went on the enthusiastic stranger, 
 leaning back in his chair, and gazing on the roof, in a fit of 
 ecstasy, and in seeming unconsciousness of the presence of 
 a third party "beautiful is she to look upon, as is the 
 rising sun emerging from the purpled east; beautiful as his 
 Betting amidst the burnished clouds of the west; lovely as-
 
 CH ATE LARD. 245 
 
 the full moon hanging midway in her field of azure; grateful 
 to the sight as the green fields of spring, or the flowers of 
 the garden; and pleasant to the ear are the tones of her voice, 
 as the song of the nightingale in the grove, or the sound of 
 the distant waterfall." 
 
 Here the speaker paused in his rhapsody, continued silent 
 for some moments, then suddenly returning, as it were, to 
 a sense of the circumstances in which he was placed, he 
 brought his hands over his forehead and eyes, as one reco- 
 vering from an agony of painful and melancholy thoughts. 
 Surprised by this extraordinary conduct of his guest, the 
 landlord of the house began to conceive that he had got 
 into the company of a madman; yet he marvelled much 
 what description of madness it could be, since it was made 
 evident only when the queen was spoken of the stranger 
 speaking on all other subjects rationally and composedly. 
 
 "She walks not much abroad, you say, my friend?" said 
 the latter, resuming the conversation which he had broken 
 off to give utterance to the rhapsody which has just been 
 quoted. 
 
 " Very seldom, sir," replied mine host; " for ye see she 
 doesna fin hersel quite at hame yet amang us; but she'll 
 come to by and by, I've nae doot." 
 
 "And she is not easy of access, you say no chance of 
 one being able to throw himself in her way ? " 
 
 " Unco little, I should think," replied mine host, " unless 
 she could be fa'n in wi' gaun to the chapel to mass; for she 
 still abides by thae abominations, for a' John Knox can say 
 till her." 
 
 A flush of resentment and indignation crossed the pale 
 countenance of the stranger at the last expressions of the 
 innkeeper, and he threw a glance at him strongly expressive 
 of these feelings, but suddenly checked himself, paused for 
 a moment, and then resumed his queries in the calm and 
 gentle tones which seemed natural to him
 
 246 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 " How likes she the country, know ye 1 " 
 
 "Indeed, I canna weel say," replied mine host; "but I 
 rather doot, frae what I hear, she's no athegither reconciled 
 till't yet. She thinks, I daursay, we're rather a roughspun 
 set o' folk a wee thing coorse i' the grain or sae." 
 
 "Ay, that ye are, that ye are," said the stranger, with 
 more candour than courtesy, again throwing himself back 
 in his chair, and again beginning to rhapsodise as before. 
 "She is among ye the beautiful, the gentle, the accom- 
 plished, the refined as a fawn amongst a herd of bears. 
 She is in your wild and savage land, like a lovely and tender 
 flower growing in the cleft of a rock a sweet and gentle 
 thing, blooming alone in the midst of rudeness and barren- 
 ness. Oh, uncongenial soil ! Oh, discordant association ! 
 Dearest, cruellest, loveliest of thy sex ! " 
 
 If mine host was amazed at the first outpouring of his 
 guest's excited mind, it will readily be believed that it was 
 not lessened by this second ebullition of fervour and pas- 
 sion. He, in truth, now became convinced that he was 
 distracted; and, under this impression, felt a strong desire 
 to be quit of him as soon as possible. With this view, he 
 took an early opportunity of stealing unobserved out of the 
 apartment a feat which he found no difficulty in perform- 
 ing, as his guest seemed ultimately so wholly wrapped up 
 in his own thoughts, as to be quite unconscious of what was 
 either said or done in his presence. Soon after mine host 
 had retired, the stranger ordered paper, pen, and ink to be 
 brought him. They were placed upon his table, he himself 
 the while walking up and clown the apartment with mea- 
 sured stride and downcast look, as if again lost in profound 
 and perplexing thought; and at intervals the sound of his 
 footsteps, thus traversing his chamber, was heard through- 
 out the whole of the night. The stranger had slept none; 
 he had not even retired to seek repose; but those periods 
 during the night and they were of considerable length m
 
 CHATELAED. 247 
 
 which all was silent in ^is apartment, were employed in 
 writing; and when morning came, the result of his labours 
 was exhibited in a letter, curiously, or rather fancifully, 
 folded, tied with a green silk thread, and highly perfumed. 
 This letter was addressed on the back, " To the Most Illus- 
 trious Princess, Mary, Queen of Scotland." 
 
 Having brought the proceedings of the stranger to this 
 point, AVC will shift the scene to the sitting apartment of 
 the queen in Holyrood. Here, surrounded with her maids, 
 the young and lovely princess was, at the moment of which 
 we speak, engaged in working embroidery, and laughing 
 and chatting with her attendants, amongst whom were two 
 or three young French ladies, who had accompanied her 
 from France. The queen and her maids were thus em- 
 ployed, then, when the gentleman-usher, who stood at the 
 door of the apartment, entered, and, with a low obeisance, 
 presented a letter to the queen. It was the same as that 
 addressed to her by the stranger, and above referred to. 
 The queen took the letter, with a gracious smile, from the 
 person presenting it, and, contemplating it for a moment, 
 before she opened it, with a look of pleased surprise 
 
 "This, sure," she said, "is from none of our Scottish 
 subjects: the fold is French." And she sighed. "It has 
 the cut and fashion of the billet doux of St Germains; and," 
 she added, laughing, " the precise flavour, too, I declare. 
 But I should know this handwriting," she went on; "I 
 have seen it before. This, however, will solve the mys- 
 tery." And she tore the letter open, and was instantly 
 employed in reading it, blushing and smiling by turns, as 
 she proceeded with the perusal. When she had done, 
 "Maria," she said, raising her eyes from the paper, and 
 addressing one of her French ladies, "who, think you, is 
 this letter from ? " 
 
 "I cannot guess, madam," replied the young lady ap- 
 pealed to.
 
 243 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 "Do try," rejoined Mary. 
 
 "Nay, indeed, I cannot," said the former, now pausing 
 in her work, and looking laughingly at her mistress. " Per- 
 haps from the Count Desmartine, or from Dufour, or 
 Dubois." 
 
 "No, no, no," replied the queen, laughing; "neither of 
 these, Maria; but I will have compassion on your curiosity, 
 and tell you. Would you believe it? it is from Chatelard, 
 the poet." 
 
 " Chatelard ! " repeated the maiden, in amazement. 
 " What in all the earth can have brought him here 1 " 
 
 "Nay, I know not," said the queen, blushing, for she 
 guessed, or rather feared, the cause. "But read, and judge 
 for yourself," she added, handing her attendant the letter, 
 which contained a very beautiful laudatory poem, full of 
 passion and feeling, addressed to herself, and which the 
 writer concluded by requesting that he might be permitted 
 to form part of her court; delaring that it would be joy 
 inexpressible to him to be near her person he cared not in 
 how mean a capacity. The having opportunities of seeing 
 and serving her, he said, would reconcile him to any degra- 
 dation of rank to any loss, save that of honour. 
 
 "In truth, very pretty verses," said the lady-in-waiting, re- 
 turning the poem to the queen; "but, methinks, somewhat 
 over-bold." 
 
 " Why, I do think so too, Maria," replied Mary. " Chate- 
 lard rather forgets himself; but poets, you know, have a 
 license, and I cannot be harsh to the poor young man. It 
 would be cruel, ungenerous, and unworthy of me." 
 
 " But what say you, madam, to his request to be attached 
 to your court?" 
 
 " Eeally, as to that, I know not well what to say, indeed," 
 rejoined the queen. "Chatelard, you know, Maria, is a 
 gentleman, both by birth and education. He is accom- 
 plished in a very high degree, and of a graceful person and
 
 CHATELAED. 249 
 
 pleasing manners, and would thus do no discredit to our 
 court; but, I fear me, he might be guilty of some indiscre- 
 tionsfor he is a child of passion as well as song that 
 might lead himself into danger, and bring some blame on 
 me. Still, I cannot think of rejecting altogether his humble 
 suit, so prettily preferred; and, if he would promise to con- 
 duct himself with becoming gravity and reserve in all mat- 
 ters, and at all times, I should have no objection that he 
 was attached to our court. I will, at all events, make trial 
 of him for a short space." 
 
 Having said this, the queen, now addressing the ladies 
 present generally, went on 
 
 " Ladies, I will shortly introduce to you a new gallant; 
 but I pray ye take care of your hearts; for he is, I warrant 
 ye, one especially given to purloining these little commodi- 
 ties. He is handsome, accomplished, and a poet; so mind 
 ye, ladies, I have warned you be on your guard. Kerr," 
 she now called out to a page in waiting, " go to the hostelry 
 whence this letter came, and say to the gentleman by whom 
 it has been sent, that we desire to see him forthwith. Let 
 him accompany you, Kerr." 
 
 The page instantly departed; and we will avail ourselves 
 of his short absence on this mission, to say briefly who 
 Chatelard was what was his object in coming to the Scot- 
 tish court and of what nature were the fears which the 
 queen expressed regarding him. 
 
 Chatelard, then, was a young French gentleman of rank, 
 of rare accomplishments, and a poet of very considerable 
 excellence. His seeking to attach himeelf to Mary's court, 
 was the result of a violent and unhappy attachment to. her 
 person; and her fears for him, proceeding from a suspicion 
 of this attachment, were, that he would commit himself t>y 
 some rash expression of his feelings. She was displeased 
 with his presumptuous love, yet found she could v e, as a 
 woman, but look on it with pity and compassion^ 5fttt00
 
 250 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 her disposition to treat with kindness and affability its un- 
 happy victim. Prudence, indeed, would certainly have dic- 
 tated another course than what Mary pursued with Chate- 
 lard, in thus admitting him to her presence; but Mary's 
 error here was an error of the heart, and more to be regret- 
 ted than blamed. 
 
 In a short while after the messenger had been despatched 
 with the invitation to Chatelard, the door of the queen's 
 apartment was thrown wide open, and that person entered. 
 His bow to the queen was exceedingly graceful; and not 
 less so, though measured with scrupulous exactness in their 
 expression of deference, were those he directed to her ladies. 
 Chatelard's countenance was at this instant suffused with a 
 blush, and it was evident he was under the excitement of 
 highly-agitated feelings; but he lost not, for a moment, nor 
 in the slightest degree, his presence of mind; neither did 
 these feelings prevent him conducting himself at this in- 
 terview with the most perfect propriety. 
 
 " Chatelard," said the queen, after the ceremonies of a 
 first salutation were over, " I perceive you have lost none 
 of your cunning in the gentle craft. These were really 
 pretty lines you sent me choice in expression, and melo- 
 diously arranged. I assure thee it is a very happy piece." 
 
 " How could it be otherwise, madam," replied Chatelard, 
 bowing low, "with such a subject?" 
 
 "Nay, nay," said Mary, laughing and blushing at the 
 same time, "I am no subject, Chatelard, but an anointed 
 queen. Thou canst not make a subject of me." 
 
 Chatelard now in turn blushed, and said, smiling, " Your 
 wit, madam, has thrown me out; but, aVoiding this play 
 on words, my position is good, undeniable. All men ac- 
 knowledge it." 
 
 "Go to go to, Chatelard thou wert ever a flatterer. 
 But 'tis a poet's trade. Thou" art a dangerous flatterer, 
 however; for thou dost praise so prettily that one cannot
 
 CHATELARD. 251 
 
 suspect thy sincerity, nor be angry with thee, even when 
 thou deservest that they should. But enough of this in the 
 meantime. Thou mayst now retire; and I think the sooner 
 the better, for the safety of these fair maidens' hearts, and 
 your own peace of mind, which a longer stay might en- 
 danger. Our chamberlain will provide thee with suitable 
 apartments, and see to thy wants. Mark," she added, 
 laughingly, " we retain thee in our service in the capacity 
 of our poet of court poet a high and honourable appoint- 
 ment; and thy reward shall be the smiles and approbation 
 of these fair ladies the beauty of all and each of whom I 
 expect thou wilt forthwith embalm in immortal verse." 
 
 Chatelard, bowing, was now about to retire, when the 
 queen, again addressing him, said, " We will send for thee 
 again in the afternoon, to bear us company for awhile, when 
 thou wilt please bring with thee some of thy newest and 
 choicest madrigals." 
 
 Expressing a deep sense of the honour proposed t; &-, con- 
 ferred on him, of the queen's kind condescension, and avow- 
 ing his devotedness to her service, Chatelard withdrew, and 
 was provided with the promised apartments by the express 
 orders of Mary herself. To these apartments we shall fol- 
 low the enthusiastic but audacious lover. On being left 
 alone, Chatelard again fell into one of those reveries which 
 we have already described, and again launched into that 
 strain of extravagant adulation which, on another occasion, 
 we represented him as indulging in. Again he compared 
 Mary, in his incoherent ravings, to everything that is beau- 
 tiful in earth, sea, and sky; but comparing her to these only 
 that he might assert how far she surpassed them. There 
 drere mingled, too, with his eulogiums, on this occasion, ex- 
 pressions of that imprudent passion which subsequently at 
 once urged him to commit the most daring offences, and 
 blinded him to their consequences. Poor Chatclard's rav- 
 ing?, in the instance of which we are just speaking, were
 
 252 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 unconscicmsly uttered; but they were unfortunately loud 
 enough to arrest the attention of the domestics, who were 
 passing to and fro in the lobby into which the door of his 
 apartment opened. These, attracted by his rapturous ex- 
 clamations, listened, from time to time, at his door, and 
 were highly amused with tho rhapsodies of the imprudent 
 poet. The latter, becoming more and more vehement, and, 
 in proportion, more entertaining, the domestics finally ga- 
 thered in a cluster around the door, to the number of six or 
 eight, and, with suppressed laughter, overheard all that the 
 excited and unguarded inmate chose to utter. That, how- 
 ever, was so incoherent, or at least of so high-flown a cha- 
 racter, that the listeners could make nothing of it; and, as 
 they could not, they immediately concluded it to be non- 
 sense, and the speaker a madman. But there came one to 
 the spot, at this unfortunate moment, who, with sharper 
 intellect and more apt Comprehension, at once discovered 
 the meaning that lurked under the florid language of the 
 poet's ill-timed soliloquies. 
 
 While the servants were crowded around the door of 
 Chatelard's apartment, too intent on their amusement to 
 notice the approach of any one, another party, we say, had 
 advanced to within a few paces of where they stood. Here, 
 with his arms folded across his breast, he had remained 
 observed for several seconds, gazing with a look of surprise 
 and displeasure on the merry group assembled around the 
 poet's door. He was, however, at length discovered, when 
 the knot of listeners instantly broke up in the greatest hurry 
 and alarm. 
 
 " How now," exclaimed the unexpected intruder a per- 
 son of about thirty years of age, of rather slender form, of 
 cold and haughty demeanour, and austere countenance 
 "How now?" he exclaimed, in a voice whose tones were 
 naturally severe " what means this idling? what do ye all 
 here, knaves, in place of attending to your duties?"
 
 CHATELAED. 253 
 
 Instead of answering this question, the terrified domestics 
 were now endeavouring to make off in all directions; but the 
 querist's curiosity, or perhaps suspicion, having been excited 
 by what he had seen, he instantly arrested their progress, 
 by calling on them, in a voice of increased severity and vehe- 
 mence, to stop. 
 
 " Come hither, Johnstone," he exclaimed, addressing one 
 of the fugitives " I must know what you have been all 
 about." And, without waiting for an answer, " Who occu- 
 pies this apartment?" he inquired, pointing to that in which 
 was Chatelard. 
 
 " And please ye, my lord," replied Johnstone, bowing wi^h 
 the most profound respect " ane that we think's no very 
 wise. He's been bletherin awa there to hirusel, saving yer 
 honour's presence, like a bubbly-jock, for this half -hour 
 back, and we can neither mak tap, tail, nor mane o' what 
 he's sayin." 
 
 "What! a madman, Johnstone?" said the Earl of Mur- 
 ray, the queen's half-brother, for it was no less a personage; 
 then hurriedly added, " Who is he? what is he? where is 
 he from? when came he hither?" 
 
 The man answered categorically 
 
 " I dinna ken, my lord, wha he is; but, frae the thinness 
 o' his chafts, I tak him to be ane o' your French laun-loupers. 
 He cam to the palace about twa hours syne." 
 
 The earl's curiosity was now still further excited, and, 
 without saying a word more, he drew near to the door of 
 Chatelard's apartment, and became also an auditor of the 
 poor poet's unguarded language; but not such as it was in 
 the case of the listeners who had preceded him; to him that 
 language was perfectly intelligible at least to the extent 
 of informing him of Chatelard's ambitious love. To Murray 
 this was a secret worth knowing; and, in the hope that he 
 might discover this attachment to be reciprocal, and thus 
 acquire an additional influence over the queen, his sister.
 
 254 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 at the expense of her reputation, he considered it a singu- 
 larly fortunate incident. Perhaps he expected that it would 
 do even more for him than this: that it would eventually 
 help him to the accomplishment of certain daring views to- 
 wards the crown itself, of which he was not unsuspected. 
 Whether, however, he was able to trace, in distinct and de- 
 finite lines, any consequences favourable to himself from the 
 fact which had just come to his knowledge, it is certain he 
 was pleased with the discovery, and considered it as an im- 
 portant acquisition. That he viewed it in this light, indeed, 
 was evident even by his countenance, cautiously guarded as 
 its expressions ever were. 
 
 On being satisfied of the fact of Chatelard's attachment to 
 the queen, he withdrew from the door with a look and brief 
 expression of satisfaction, and went directly in quest of the 
 chamberlain. On finding whom 
 
 " So, Mr Chamberlain," he said, " we have got, I find, 
 another animal added to our herd of fawning, drivelling 
 courtiers. Pray, who or what is he, this person who has 
 taken up his quarters in the northern gallery, and by whose 
 authority has he been installed there?" 
 
 " By the queen's, my lord," replied the chamberlain. " I 
 have had express and direct orders from the queen herself, 
 to provide the gentleman with apartments in the palace, and 
 to see to his suitable entertainment." 
 
 " All, indeed," said the earl, biting his lip, and muaing 
 for a moment. " By her own express orders !" he repeated. 
 "It is very well." Then, after a pause "Know ye this 
 favoured person's name, Mr Chamberlain?" 
 
 " Chatelard," replied the latter. 
 
 " Chatelard ! Chatelard !" repeated the earl, mechanically, 
 -and again musing; " why, I think I have heard of that gal- 
 lant before. He is one of those triflers called poets, me- 
 thinks a versifier, a scribbler of jingling rhymes. Is it not 
 so?"
 
 CHATELARD. 255 
 
 w I have heard the queen say so, my lord," replied the 
 chamberlain. " She has spoken of him in my hearing as a ' 
 poet." ' 
 
 " Ah ! the same, the same," said the earl; " but how ob- 
 tained he access to the queen, know ye?" 
 
 " Through his own direct application, my lord. He ad- 
 dressed a poetical epistle to her majesty, I understand, from 
 Goodal's hostelry, where he had taken up his quarters in the 
 first place, requesting permission to wait upon her." 
 
 "And it was granted?" interrupted the earl. 
 
 " It was, my lord; and he has already had an audience." 
 
 " Ah ! so ! " said the earl, without yet botraying, or having, 
 during any part of this conversation, betrayed, the slightest 
 emotion or symptom of the deep interest he took in the com- 
 munications which were being made to him. " Know ye," 
 he went on, " if that favour is to be soon again conferred on 
 liim ? When will he again be admitted to the presence 1 " 
 
 " That, my lord, rests on the queen's pleasure; but I hear 
 say that he is to attend her again this evening in her sitting 
 apartment." 
 
 " So, so," said the earl, nodding his head, as he uttered 
 the words. And, turning on his heel, he walked away with- 
 out further remark. 
 
 From the officer with whom he had just been speaking, 
 the Earl of Murray carefully concealed the motives which 
 had prompted his inquiries, but determined, henceforth, to 
 watch with the utmost vigilance the proceedings of the 
 queen and Chatelard, until some circumstance should occur 
 that might put them both fairly within his power. Un- 
 aware of the dangerous surveillance under which he was 
 already placed, it was with a delight which only he him- 
 self perhaps could feel, that Chatelard received, in the 
 evening, the promised invitation from the queen to attend 
 her and her ladies in their sitting chamber. The invitation 
 was conveyed in some playful verses an art in which Mary
 
 856 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 excelled written on embossed paper. The enthusiastio 
 poet read the delightful lines a thousand times over, dwelt 
 with rapture on each word and phrase, and finally kissed 
 the precious document with all the eagerness and fervour 
 of a highly-excited and uncontrollable passion. Having in- 
 dulged in these tender sensibilities for some time, Chate- 
 lard at length folded up the unconscious object of his ado- 
 ration, thrust it into his bosom, took up a small portfeuille, 
 covered with red morocco leather, gilt, and embossed, the 
 depository of his poetical effusions, and hurried to the 
 apartment of the queen, where he was speedily set to the 
 task of reading his compositions, for the entertainment of 
 the assembled fair ones; and it is certain that on more than 
 one of them the tender and impassioned manner of the 
 bard, as he recited his really beautiful verses, added to his 
 highly prepossessing appearance and graceful delivery, made 
 an impression by no means favourable to their night's re- 
 pose. It would, however, perhaps be more tedious than 
 interesting to the reader, were we to detail all that passed 
 on the night in question in the queen's apartment; to record 
 all the witty and pleasant things that were Baid and done 
 by the queen, her ladies, and her poet. Be it enough to 
 say, that the latter retired at a pretty late hour; his im- 
 prudent passion, we cannot say increased for of increase it 
 would not admit but strengthened in its wild and ambi- 
 tious hopes. 
 
 From that fatal night, poor Chatelard firmly believed 
 that his love was returned that he had inspired in the 
 bosom of Mary a passion as ardent as his own. Into this 
 unhappy error the poet's own heated and disturbed imagi- 
 nation had betrayed him, by representing in the light of 
 special marks of favour, occurrences that were merely the 
 emanations of a kind and gentle nature thus fatally mis- . 
 led by a passion which, if notorious for occasioning ground- 
 less fears, is no less so for inspiring unfounded hopes.
 
 CHATELABD. 257 
 
 Such, at any rate, was its effect in the case of Chatelard on 
 the night in question. On gaining his own chamber, he 
 flung himself into a chair, and spent nearly the whole of 
 the remainder of the night in the indulgence of the wildest 
 and most extravagant dreams of future bliss; for, in the 
 blindness of his passion and tumult of his hopes, he saw no 
 dangers, and feared no difficulties. 
 
 From this time forward, Chatelard's conduct to the queen 
 became so marked and unguarded in various particulars, as 
 to excite her alarm, and even to draw down upon the of- 
 fender some occasional rebukes, although these were at 
 first sufficiently gentle and remote. Nor did the impru- 
 dences of the infatuated poet escape the cold, keen eye of 
 Murray. He saw them, and noted them; but took care to 
 wear the semblance of unconsciousness. It was not his 
 business to interrupt, by hinting suspicions, the progress of 
 an affair which he hoped would, on some occasion or other, 
 lead to consequences that he might turn to account. Feel- 
 ing this, it was not for him to help Chatelard and the queen 
 to elude his vigilance, and defeat his views, by discovering 
 what he observed, and thus putting them on their guard. 
 This was not his business; but it was his business to lie 
 concealed, and to spring out on his quarry the instant that 
 its position invited to the effort. Coldly and sternly, there- 
 fore, he watched the motions of Chatelard and his sister; 
 but was little satisfied to perceive nothing in the conduct 
 of the latter regarding the former which at all spoke of the 
 feelings he secretly desired to find. As it was impossible, 
 however, for the earl personally to watch all the move- 
 ments of Chatelard, he looked around him for some indi- 
 vidual of the queen's household whom he might bribe to 
 perform the duties of a spy; and such a one he found 
 amongst the attendants whom Mary, had brought with her 
 from France, of which country he was also a native. The 
 name of this ungrateful and despicable wretch, who under- 
 
 VOL. IX. I
 
 258 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 took to betray a kind and generous mistress, whenever 
 he should discover anything in her conduct to betray, 
 was Choisseul a man of pleasing manners and address, 
 but of low and vicious habits. Without any certain 
 knowledge of his character, or any previous information, 
 regarding him, the Earl of Murray's singular tact and 
 penetration at once singled him out as a likely person 
 for his purposes. On this presumption, he sent for him, 
 and, cautiously and gradually opening him up, found 
 that he had judged correctly of his man. 
 
 " Choisseul," he said, on that person being ushered 
 into his presence, " I have good reason to think that 
 you are one in whom I may put trust; and, in this as- 
 surance, I have selected you for an especial mark of my 
 confidence. Do you know anything of this Chatelard, 
 who has lately come to court ? " 
 
 " I do, my lor'. He is countryman of my own." 
 
 " So I understand. Well, then, I'll tell you what it 
 is, Choisseul : I believe the fellow has come here for no 
 good I believe, in short, that he has designs upon the 
 queen. Now, my good fellow, will you undertake to 
 ascertain this for me ? Will you watch their proceed- 
 ings, watch them narrowly, and give me instant infor- 
 mation of anything suspicious that may come to your 
 knowledge and ye shall not miss of your reward ?" 
 added the earl, now opening a little desk which stood 
 before him, and taking from it a well-filled purse. 
 
 Choisseul, with many bows and grimaces, readily 
 undertook to play the knave, and, with still more, took 
 the price of his knavery, the purse already alluded to, 
 which the earl now handed him. 
 
 " Now, Choisseul," said Murray, just before dis- 
 missing the miscreant, "I may depend on you ?" 
 
 " Mine honneur," replied the Frenchman, placing his 
 hand on his breast, witha theatrical air, and bowingto the
 
 CHATELARD. 259 
 
 ground as lie pronounced the words " Je suis votre ser- 
 Titeur till die." 
 
 "Enough," said the earl, waving his hand asa signal to 
 him to retire; "be vigilant and prompt in communicating 
 with me when you have anythingof consequence to say." 
 
 Choisseul again bowed low, and leftthe apartment. In 
 the meantime, the gallant, accomplished, but imprudent 
 Chatelard, hurried blindly along by the impetuosity of 
 his passion, and altogether unsettled by the intoxicating 
 belief that his love was returned a belief which had now 
 taken so fast a hold of his understanding that nothing 
 could loosen it proceeded from one impropriety to 
 another, till he at length committed one which all but 
 brought matters to a crisis ; and this was avoided only by 
 its having escaped the vigilance of Choisseul, and having 
 been compassionately concealed by the queen herself. 
 
 On retiring one night, early in February, 1563, to her 
 sleeping apartment, Mary and her attendants were sud- 
 denly alarmed by an extraordinary movement in a small 
 closet or wardrobe, in which was kept the clothes the 
 queen was in the habit of daily using. The maids would 
 have screamed out and fled from the apartment, but were 
 checked in both these feminine resorts by observing the 
 calm and collected manner of their mistress, in which 
 there was not the slightest appearance of perturbation. 
 
 " Ladies, ladies," she exclaimed, laughingly, as her 
 attendants were about to rush out of the room, "what a 
 pretty pair of heroines ye are ! Shame, shame ! ye surely 
 would not leave your mistress alone, in the midst of such, 
 a perilous adventure as this. Come hither," she added, 
 at the same time stepping towards her toilet, and taking 
 tip a small silver lamp that burned on it, " and let us 
 see who this intruder is whether ghost or gallant." 
 
 Saying this h er maids having returned, reassured by her 
 intrepidity she proceeded, with steady step, to wards the
 
 260 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 suspected closet, seized the door by the handle, flung it 
 boldly open, and discovered, to the astonished eyes of her 
 attendants, and to her own inexpressible amazement, the 
 poet Chatelard, armed with sword and dagger. For some 
 seconds the queen uttered not a syllable; but a flush of in- 
 dignation and of insulted pride suffused her exquisitely 
 lovely countenance. 
 
 " Chatelard," she at length said, in a tone of calm severity, 
 and with a dignity of manner becoming her high state and 
 lineage, " come forth and answer for this daring and atro- 
 cious conduct, this unheard-of insolence and presumption." 
 Chatelard obeyed, and was about to throw himself at her 
 feet, when she sternly forbade him. 
 
 "I want no apologies, presumptuous man," she said 
 " no craving of forgiveness. I want explanation of this in- 
 famous proceeding, and that I demand of you in the pre- 
 sence of my attendants here. Know ye not, sir," she 
 went on, " that your head is forfeited by this offence, and 
 that I have but to give the word, and the forfeit will be 
 exacted?" 
 
 " I know it, I know it," exclaimed Chatelard, persisting 
 in throwing himself on his knees; " but the threat has no 
 terrors for me. It is your displeasure alone fairest, bright- 
 est of God's creatures that I fear. It is " 
 
 "Peace, Chatelard," interrupted Mary, peremptorily. 
 "What mean ye by this language, sir? Would ye cut 
 yourself off from all hope of pardon, by adding offence upon 
 offence? Rise, sir, and leave this apartment instantly, I 
 command you; I will now hear neither explanation nor 
 apology." 
 
 "Then, will you forgive me?" said Chatelard; "will you 
 forgive a presumption of which " 
 
 " I will hear no more, sir," again interrupted the queen, 
 indignantly. " Be~"*xe, sir ! Eemain another instant, and 
 I give the alarm. Your life depends on your obedience."
 
 CHATELARD. 261 
 
 And Mary placed her hand on a small silver bell, from 
 which had she drawn the slightest sound, the poet's doom 
 was sealed, and she would have rung his funeral knell. 
 
 Chatelard now slowly rose from his knees, folded his arms 
 across his breast, and with downcast look, but without 
 uttering another word, strode out of the apartment. When 
 he had gone, the queen, no longer supported by the excite- 
 ment occasioned by the presence of the intruder, flung her- 
 self into a chair, greatly agitated and deadly pale. Here 
 she sat in silence for several minutes, evidently employed 
 in endeavouring to obtain a view of the late singular occur- 
 rence in all its bearings, and in determining on the course 
 which she herself ought to pursue regarding it. 
 
 Having seemingly satisfied herself on_ these points 
 
 " Ladies," she at length said these ladies were two of 
 her Maries, Mary Livingstone and Mary Fleeming " this 
 is a most extraordinary circumstance. Rash, thoughtless, 
 presumptuous man, how could he have been so utterly lost 
 to every sense of propriety and of his own peril, as to think 
 of an act of such daring insolence ? " 
 
 "Poor man, I pity him," here simply, but naturally 
 enough, perhaps, interrupted Mary Fleeming. "Doubt- 
 less, madam, you will report the matter instantly to the 
 earl?" 
 
 "Nay, Mary, I know not if I will, after all," replied the 
 queen. " I perhaps ought to do so; but methinks it would 
 be hardly creditable to me, as a woman, to bring this poor 
 thoughtless young man to the scaffold, whither, you know, 
 my stern brother would have him instantly dragged, if hs 
 knew of his offence; and besides, ladies," went on the queen, 
 in whose gentle bosom the kindly feelings of her nature had 
 now completely triumphed over those of insulted dignity 
 and pride, " I know not how far I am myself to blame in 
 this matter. I fear me, I ought to have been more guarded 
 in my conduct towards this infatuated young man. I
 
 262 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 should have kept him at a greater distance, and been more 
 cautious of admitting him to familiar converse, since he 
 has evidently misconstrued our affability and condescen> 
 sion. There may have been error there, you see, ladies." 
 
 "Yet," said Mary Livingstone, " methinks the dar- 
 ing insolence of the man ought not to go altogether 
 unpunished, madam. If he has chosen to misconstrue, 
 it can be no fault of yours." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied Mary. '' As a queen, I cer- 
 tainly ought to give him up to the laws; but as a woman 
 I cannot. Yet shall he not go unpunished. He shall 
 be forthwith banished from our court and kingdom. 
 To-morrow I shall cause it to be intimated to him that 
 he leave our court instantly, and Scotland within four- 
 and-twenty hours thereafter, on pain of our highest 
 displeasure, and peril of disclosure of his crime." 
 
 Having thus spoken, and having obtained a promise f 
 secresy regarding Chatelard's offence from her two attend- 
 ants, Mary retired for the night, not however, quite as- 
 sured that she was pursuing the right course for her own. 
 reputation, in thus screening the guilt of the poet ; but 
 nevertheless determined, at all risks, to save him, in this 
 instance at least, from the consequence of his indiscretion. 
 On the following morning, the queen despatched a note to 
 Chatelard,to the purpose which we have represented her 
 as expressing on the preceding night, and, in obedience to 
 the commanditcontained, heinstantly left the palace, but 
 in a state of indescribable men tal agitati on and distraction; 
 forin the determination expressed by the queen he saw at 
 once an end to all his wild hopes, and more unendurable 
 still, an assurance that he had wholly mistaken the feel- 
 ings with which Mary regarded him. We have said that 
 Ghatelard obeyed one of the injunctions of the queen 
 that was, to leave the palace instantly. He did so ; but 
 whether he conformed to the other the sequel will show.
 
 CHATELARD. 263 
 
 Two days after the occurrences just related, Mary set 
 out for St. Andrew's; taking the route of the Queens- 
 ferry, and sleeping the first night atDunfermline, and the 
 second at Burntisland. On the evening of her arrival at 
 the latter place, thequeen, fatigued by herjourney, which 
 had been prolonged by hunting and hawking, retired 
 early to her apartment. Here she had not been many 
 minutes, when the door was thrown suddenly open, and 
 Chatelard entered. 
 
 " What ! again, Chatelard ! " exclaimed Mary, with 
 the utmost indignation and astonishment. " What 
 means this, sir ? How have you dared to intrude your- 
 self again into my apartment ? " 
 
 Without making anyreply to this salutation, Chatelard 
 threw himself on his knees before the queen, and, seizing 
 the skirtof her robe, implored her pardon for his presump- 
 tion; adding, that he had been impelled to this second in- 
 trusion solely by a desire to explain to her the motives of 
 his former conduct, which, he said, had been wrongly in- 
 terpreted, and to bid her farewell before he went into 
 the banishment to which she had doomed him. 
 
 "Rise, sir, rise," said Mary; "I will listen to no ex- 
 planations forced on me in this extraordinary manner. 
 I desire that you instantly quit this apartment. This 
 repetition of your offence, sir, I will neither bear with 
 nor overlook. Rise, I command you, and begone ! " 
 
 Instead of obeying, the infatuated poet not only per- 
 sisted in remaining in the position he was in, but, 
 still keeping hold of the queen's robe, began to speak 
 the language of passion and love. The queen endea- 
 voured to release herself from his hold, and was in 
 the act of attempting to do so, when the door of the 
 apartment, which Chatelard had closed behind him, 
 was violently thrown open, and the Earl of Murray 
 entered. Having advanced two or three steps, he stood 
 still, and, folding his arms across his breast, looked
 
 264 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 sternly, but in silence, first at the queen, and then at Chate- 
 lard; keeping, at the same time, sufficiently near the door 
 to prevent the escape of the latter, in case he should make 
 such an attempt. Having gazed on them for some time 
 without opening his lips, but with an ominous expression of 
 countenance 
 
 " Well, Sir Poet," he at length said, addressing Chate- 
 lard, with cold deliberation, " pray do me the favour to en- 
 lighten me as to the meaning of your having thus intruded 
 yourself into the queen's apartment. Why do I find you 
 here, sir, and wherefore have I found you in the position 
 from which you have just now risen? Pray, sir, explain." 
 
 " I came here, my lord," replied Chatelard, with firmness 
 and dignity, " to take leave of Her Majesty before returning 
 to France, for which I set out to-morrow." 
 
 An ironical and incredulous smile played on the stern 
 countenance of Murray. " A strange place this, methinks, 
 and a strange season, for leave-taking; and yet stranger than 
 all the language in which I just now heard you speak. You 
 are aware, I presume, sir," he added, " that you are just now 
 in the queen's sleeping apartment, where none dare intrude 
 but on the peril of their lives. But probably, madam," he 
 said, now turning to the queen, without waiting any reply 
 to his last remark, " you can explain the meaning of this 
 extraordinary scene." 
 
 " You had better, my lord," replied Mary, evasively for 
 she was still reluctant to commit the unfortunate poet 
 " obtain what explanations you desire from Chatelard him- 
 self. He surely is the fittest person to explain his own con- 
 duct." 
 
 "True, madam," said Murray, sneeringly, "but I thought 
 it not by any means improbable that you might be as well 
 informed on the point in question as the gentleman him- 
 self." 
 
 " Your insinuation is rude, my lord," replied the queen,
 
 CHATELARD. 265 
 
 haughtily; and, without vouchsafing any other remark, 
 walked away to the further end of the apartment, leaving 
 the earl and Chatelard together. 
 
 Murray now saw, from the perfectly composed and inde- 
 pendent manner of the queen, that he could make out no- 
 thing to her prejudice from the case before him, nor elicit 
 the slightest evidence of anything like connivance, on the 
 part of Mary, at Chatelard's intrusion. Seeing this, he de- 
 termined on proceeding against the unfortunate poet with 
 the utmost rigour to which his imprudence had exposed him, 
 in the hope that severity would wring from him such con- 
 fessions as would implicate the queen. 
 
 Having come to this resolution " Sir," he said, address- 
 ing Chatelard, " prepare to abide the consequences of your 
 presumption." And he proceeded to the door, called an at- 
 tendant, and desired him to send the captain of the guard 
 and a party to him instantly. 
 
 In a few minutes, they appeared, when the earl, address- 
 ing the officer just named, and pointing to Chatelard, desired 
 him to put that gentleman in ward; and the latter was im- 
 mediately hurried out of the apartment. When the guard, 
 with their prisoner, had left the queen's chamber, the earl 
 walked up to Mary, who, with her head leaning pensively 
 nn her hand, had been silently contemplating the proceed- 
 ings that were going forward in her apartment. 
 
 "Madam," said Murray, on approaching her, "I think 
 you may consider yourself in safety for this night, at any 
 rate, from any further intrusion from this itinerant versifier; 
 and it shall be my fault if he ever again annoys you or any 
 one else." 
 
 "What, brother!" exclaimed Mary, in evident alarm at 
 this ambiguous, but ominous hint "you will not surely 
 proceed to extremities against the unfortunate young 
 man 1 " 
 
 " By St Bride, but I will though," replied Murray, angrily.
 
 266 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Why, madam, has not your reputation as a -woman, 
 and your dignity as a queen, both been assailed by this 
 insolent foreigner, in the daring act he has done ? " 
 
 "Nay, my lord,' replied the queen, haughtily, "me- 
 thinks it will take much more than this to affect my reputa- 
 tion. I indeed marvel much to hear you speak thus, my 
 lord. My dignity, again, can be debased only by mine 
 own acts, and cannot be affected by the act of another." 
 
 "Nevertheless, madam," rejoined her brother, "ye 
 cannot stop slanderous tongues ; and I know not how the 
 \v rid may construe this circumstance. Both your hon- 
 our and station require that this presumtuous knave 
 suffer the penalty of his crime in its utmost rigour. 
 What would the world say else ? Why, it would have 
 suspicions that ought not for an instant to be associated 
 with the name of Mary Stuart." 
 
 " But you will not have his life taken, brother]" said 
 Mary, in a gentle tone subdued by the thoughts of the 
 severe doom that threatened the unfortunate gentleman, 
 and placing her hand affectionately on the earl's arm as 
 she spoke. " Can ye not banish him forth of the realm, or 
 imprison him any thing short of death, which, methinks> 
 would be, after all, hard measure for the offence?" 
 
 "You have reasons, doubtless, madam," said the earl, 
 coldly and bluntly, "for this tenderness." 
 
 "I have," said Mary, indignantly; "but not, my lord, 
 such as you would seem to insinuate. My reasons are, 
 humanity and a feeling of compassion for the misguided 
 and unhappy youth." 
 
 " Chatelard shall have such mercy, madam, as your 
 Majesty's Privy Council may deem him deserving of," 
 replied the earl, turning round on his heel, and quitting 
 the apartment. 
 
 On leaving the presence of the queen, the Earl of Murray 
 retired to his own chamber where he was. shortly after,
 
 CHATELARD. 267 
 
 waited upon by Choisseul, who had been for some time 
 watching his return. 
 
 " Ha, Choisseul ! art there ?" said the earl, with an 
 unusual expression of satisfaction on his countenance, 
 on the former's entrance. "Thou hast done well, friend : 
 I found matters exactly as you stated, and am obliged 
 by the promptness and accuracy of your information." 
 " Vere happy, my lor', I am serve to your satisfac- 
 tion," replied Choisseul, bowing low. "I vas vatch. 
 Monsieur Chatelard as vone cat shall vatch vone leetle 
 mice, and did caught him at las." 
 
 " You did well, Choisseul, and shall be suitably recom- 
 pensed. Dost know howthefellow camehere, and when?" 
 " He did come in vone leetle barque, my lor' from. 
 over de riviere, on de todder side opposite." 
 
 " Ah, so !" said the earl. " Well, you may now 
 retire, Choisseul. To-morrow I shall see to your reward." 
 Choisseul bowed, and withdrew. 
 When hehad retired, the earl sat down to a small writing 
 table, and, late as the hour was, began writing with great 
 assiduity an employmentatwhichhecontinued until he 
 had written eightortendifferent letters, each of consider- 
 ablelength. These were addressed to various members of 
 the Queen's Privy Council in Edinburgh, and to some of 
 thela w officers of the crown. They were all nearly copies of 
 each other, and contained an account of Chatelard's con-' 
 duct, with a charge to the several parties addressed to re- 
 pair to St. Andrews on the second day following, for the 
 purpose of holding a court on the offender, and awarding 
 him such punishment as the case might seem to demand. 
 On the day succeeding that on which the occurrence j ust 
 related took place, the queen and her retinue proceeded to 
 St. Andrews, whither the prisoner Chatelard wasalsocar- 
 ried; and, on the next again, the unfortunate gentleman 
 was brought to trial, the scene of which was an apartment
 
 268 TALES OF THE BOPJDERS. 
 
 in the Castle of St Andrews, which had been hastily pre- 
 pared for the occasion. In the centre of this apartment 
 was placed a large oblong oaken table, covered'with crimson 
 velvet, and surrounded by a circle of high-backed chairs, 
 with cushions covered with the same material. These were 
 subsequently occupied by eight or ten persons of the Privy 
 Council, including Mary's secretary of state, Maitland of 
 Lethington, who sat at one end of the table. At the oppo- 
 site end sat the Earl of Murray; the prisoner occupying a 
 place in the centre at one of the sides. During the inves- 
 tigation which followed into the offence of Chatelard, the 
 Earl of Murray made repeated indirect attempts to lead him 
 to make statements prejudicial to the queen; urging him, 
 with a show of candour and pretended regard for justice, 
 to inform the court of anything and everything which he 
 thought might be available in his defence, without regard 
 to the rank or condition of those whom such statements 
 might implicate. This language was too plain to be mis- 
 understood. Every one present perceived that it conveyed 
 a pointed allusion to the queen. Chatelard, amongst the 
 rest, felt that it did so, and indignantly repelled the in- 
 sinuation. 
 
 " I have none," he said, " to accuse but myself; nothing 
 to blame but my own folly. Folly, did I say 1 " went on 
 the fearless enthusiast; " it was no folly it was love, love, 
 love all-powerful love love for her, the noblest, the love- 
 liest of created beings, for whom I could die ten thousand 
 deaths. It was love for her who has been to me the breath 
 of life, the light of mine eyes, the idol of my heart; around 
 which were entwined all the feelings and susceptibilities of 
 my nature, even as the ivy entwines the tree the con- 
 stant theme of my dreams by night; the sole subject of my 
 thoughts by day. It has been hinted to me that I may 
 blame freely, where to blame may serve me. But whom 
 shall I blame ? Not her, surely, who is the object of my
 
 CHATELARD. 269 
 
 idolatry my sun, moon, and stars my heaven, my soul, 
 my existence. Not her, surely; for she is faultless as the 
 unborn babe, pure and spotless as the snow-wreath in the 
 hollow of the mountain. Who shall maintain the contrary 
 fies in his throat, and is a foul-mouthed, villanous slan- 
 derer." 
 
 Here the enthusiastic and somewhat incoherent speaker 
 was abruptly interrupted by Maitland of Lethington, who, 
 rising to his feet, and resting his hands on the low table 
 around which Chatelard's judges were seated, said, looking 
 at the prisoner 
 
 "Friend, ye must speak to your defence, if ye would 
 speak at all. This that you have said is nothing to the 
 purpose; and you cannot be permitted to take up the time 
 of this court with such rhapsodies as these, that make not 
 for any point of your accusation. 1 Think ye not so, my 
 lords 1 " he added, glancing around the table. 
 
 Several nods of assent spoke acquiescence. When Mait- 
 land had concluded 
 
 " I have done, then, my lords," said Chatelard, bowing, 
 and seating himself. " I have no more to say." 
 
 A short conversation now took place amongst the pri- 
 soner's judges, when sentence of death was unanimously 
 agreed to, and he was ordered to be beheaded on the fol- 
 lowing day, the 22d of February, 1563. 
 
 On the rising of the court, the Earl of Murray repaired 
 to the queen, and informed her of the doom awarded against 
 Chatelard. Mary was greatly affected by the intelligence. 
 She burst into tears, exclaiming 
 
 " Oh, unhappy, thrice unhappy, countenance ! thou hast 
 been given me for a curse, instead of a blessing the ruin 
 of thO who love me best that, by inspiring a silly pas- 
 sion, at once dangerous and worthless, will not permit one 
 to remain near me in the character of friend ! My lord, 
 my lord," she continued, jn great agitation, " can you not,
 
 270 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 will you not save the unhappy young man 1 I beseech 
 thee, I implore thee, by the ties of consanguinity that 
 connect us, by the duty ye owe to me as thy sovereign, 
 to spare his life!" 
 
 "You know not what you ask, madam," replied 
 Murray, stalking up and down the apartment. " How 
 can his life be spared consistently with your honour ? 
 Save him, and you will set a thousand slanderous 
 tongues a- wagging. It may not, must not, be." 
 
 Mary herself could not deny the force of this remark, 
 and, finding she had nothing to oppose to it, she flung 
 herself into a chair, and again burst into tears. In this 
 ' condition the earl left her, to give orders respecting the 
 execution of Chatelard on the following day, and to 
 put another proceeding in train for obtaining that re- 
 sult which he had aimed at on the trial of the unfor- 
 tunate young man. Sending again for Choisseul 
 
 " Friend," he said, on that person's entering the 
 apartment, " I wish another small piece of service at 
 your hands." 
 
 Choisseul bowed, and expressed his readiness to do 
 anything he might be required to do. 
 
 " I vas proud to discharge all de drops of my blood 
 : in your service, my lor'," said the knave, with a pro- 
 found obeisance. 
 
 The earl carelessly nodded approbation. 
 
 " To-night, then, Choisseul," he went on, " you will 
 repair to the dungeon in which Chatelard is confined. 
 You will see him as a friend. You understand me ?" 
 
 " Ah, well, my lor', vere well." 
 
 " Just so. Well, then, you will hint to him that you 
 Lavereason to believe hemightyetsave his life by confess- 
 ing a participation in his guilt on the part of the queen. 
 You may add, though not as from me, of course, that I 
 Lave no doubt of his having been encouraged to those
 
 CHATELARD. 271 
 
 liberties for which his life is forfeited ; and you may 
 say that you know I feel for him, and would readily 
 procure his pardon, if he would only give me a reason- 
 able ground or pretext for doing so, by showing that 
 there were others equally in fault with him. Do you 
 entirely understand me, Choisseul ?" 
 
 " Entirely, my lor'," replied the latter; "bright, clear, 
 as noonday at the sun." 
 
 " So, then, return to me when you have seen Chate- 
 lard, and let me know the result," said the earl. 
 
 Choisseul once more withdrew, to perform the treacher- 
 ous and knavish part assigned him. About midnight he 
 sought the dungeon of theuuhappygentleman,and, having 
 been admitted by the guards, found him busily employed 
 in writing; the indulgence of a lamp, with pen, ink, and 
 paper, having, at his most earnest request, been afforded 
 him. Indeed, these were more readily and willingly 
 given than he was aware of. They were given in the 
 hope that he would commit something to writing which, 
 without his intending it, might compromise the character 
 of the queen. But in this her enemies were disappointed. 
 On Choisseul's entering Chatelard's dungeon, the lat- 
 ter, as we have already said, was busily engaged in writ- 
 ing. He was inditing a last farewell to the queen in. 
 verse. On this employment he was so intent, that he 
 did not observe, or at least pay any attention to, the 
 entrance of Choisseul, but continued writing on till he 
 Lad completed his task, which now, however, occupied 
 only a very few minutes. On finishing 
 
 " 'Tis done," he said, and threw down his pen with vio- 
 lence on the table. " These are the last notes of the harp 
 of Chatelard. Ha, Choisseul ! " he immediately added, and 
 only now for the first time seeming conscious of that per- 
 son's presence ; " I am glad to see you, my countryman. 
 This is kind. I thought there were none in this strange
 
 272 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 land to care for me. But they shall see, Choisseul," he 
 added, proudly, "how a Frenchman and a poet can die. 
 That is, boldly and bravely. He were no true poet whose 
 soul was not elevated above the fear of death. I said, my 
 friend," he went on, after a momentary pause, and sighing 
 deeply as he spoke, "that I thought there were none in 
 this land to care for me, or to sorrow for me and perhaps 
 it is so; but there is one, Choisseul, whom I would not 
 willingly believe indifferent to my fate. She surely, much 
 as I have offended her, will say, ' Poor Chatelard ! ' Nay, 
 methinks I see a tear standing in that peerless eye, when 
 she recalls the memory of her departed poet. That that, 
 Choisseul," said the unhappy captive, with an enthusiasm 
 which even the near approach of death had not been able 
 to abate " that would be something worth dying for ! " 
 
 Choisseul smiled. 
 
 "You hold your life lightly, indeed, Chatelard," he said, 
 speaking in his native language, " if you think its loss com- 
 pensated by a woman's tear." 
 
 " Ah, Choisseul, but such a woman ! " exclaimed Chate- 
 lard. 
 
 "Well, well," replied the former, again smiling; "but 
 you can have no doubt that she at least will regret your 
 death. She loved you too well not to deplore your fate." 
 
 " Did she ? " exclaimed Chatelard, eagerly, and with such 
 a look of inquiry and doubt as greatly disappointed the as- 
 serter. " You know who I mean, then; but how know ye 
 that which you have just now said? Assure me that ye 
 speak true, Choisseul, and I shall die happy." 
 
 "Ah, bah ! you know it yourself, my friend, better than 
 I," replied the latter. "No use in concealing it now," he 
 added, with an intelligent look. 
 
 "Concealing what, sir?" said Chatelard, in a tone of 
 mingled surprise and displeasure. 
 
 " Why, the affection the queen entertained for you," re-
 
 CHATELARD. 1573 
 
 plied ChoisseuL " We all know, my friend, you would not 
 have done what you did, had she not encouraged your ad- 
 dresses. And I'll tell you what, Chatelard," he went on, 
 " I have reason to believe that your life would yet be spared, 
 f you would only show that this was so." 
 
 "Ah, I understand you," said Chatelard, with suppressed 
 passion. " If I will accuse the queen if I will put her in 
 the power of her enemies her enemies will be obliged to 
 me. In other words, I may save my life by sacrificing her 
 reputation; and it would be little matter whether what I 
 said should be true or not. Is it not so, Choisseul? " Then, 
 without waiting for an answer " Villain, devil that thou 
 .art," he exclaimed, now suddenly giving full swing to the 
 passion that had been raised within him, "how hast thou 
 dared to come to me with such an infamous proposal as 
 this? Didst think, most dastardly knave, that my soul was 
 -as mean as thine own? Begone, begone, ruffian ! Thy pre- 
 sence, thy breath, pollutes my dungeon more than the fetid 
 damps t&iit exhale from its walls more than the noxious 
 reptiles that crawl on its floor. Begone! begone, I say!" 
 And he seized the now trembling caitiff by the throat, and 
 dashedl him against the door of the cell, with a violence that 
 instantly brought in the guards who were stationed on the 
 outside. These, seeing how matters stood, hurried Choisseul 
 out of the dungeon, and again secured the door on its un- 
 fortunate inmate. 
 
 On leaving Chatelard, Choisseul repaired to the Earl of 
 Murray, but with infinitely less confidence in his looks and 
 manner than on the former occasion when his villany had 
 teen successful To the earl he detailed the particulars of 
 his interview with Chatelard; not forgetting to mention 
 the rough treatment he had received from the infuriated 
 poet. 
 
 "Then he'll confess nothing, Choisseul?" said Murray, 
 
 tfhen the former had done speaking. 
 
 i2
 
 274 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Not anything at all, my lor'. Dere is no hope ; for 
 he make no more of dying than I do of taking vone 
 leetle pinch of snuff." 
 
 " Obstinate fool," exclaimed the earl, evidently cha- 
 grined and disappointed. " Let him die, then 1 You 
 may retire, Choisseul," he abruptly added. 
 
 Choisseul obeyed. 
 
 " His execution, at any rate, shall be public," said 
 the earl to himself, when the latter had left him. 
 ' Perhaps he may make some confession on the scaffold, 
 and it will be well to have it amply testified." 
 
 On the following day, Chatelard was led out to execu- 
 tion, when his gentleman-like appearance and noble bear- 
 ing excited the utmost sympathy of the crowd. On 
 ascending the scaffold, he pulled a small volume from 
 his pocket, opened it, and read aloud, with great dignity 
 and composure, Eonsard's Hymn on Death. When he 
 had done, he turned towards that part of the Castle of 
 St Andrew's where he supposed the queen to be, and, 
 kissing his hand, waved a graceful adieu, exclaiming 
 " Farewell, loveliest and most cruel princess whom the 
 world contains ! " 
 
 Having tittered these words, he laid his head, with 
 the utmost composure, on the block. The axe of the 
 executioner fell, and the high-souled, accomplished, but 
 enthusiastic Chatelard was no more.
 
 CHRISTIE OP THE CLEEK. 275 
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK. 
 
 THOUGH the records of history and everyday experience 
 teach usthathuman nature, when pressed beyond certain 
 limits by the force of stern necessity, loses all trace of the 
 lineaments of the lord of the creation, and degenerates 
 as far below the grade of brute existence as it is, when, 
 not subjected to any such power, above it; yet it is re- 
 markable how determinedly mankind cling to a sceptical 
 incredulity in regard to those facts which derogate, in a 
 very great degree, from the dignity of the character 01 
 their species. The story of Christiecleek has been con- 
 sidered by many as only fit for being, what it has been 
 for five hundred years, a nursery bugbear, and yet it is 
 narrated by Winton, one of the least credulous of histo- 
 rians, was attended by circumstances rendering it highly 
 probable at the time, and has been corroborated by 
 instances of civilised cannabalism, produced by necessity, 
 in cases of shipwreck, of almost yeai-ly occurrence. 
 
 The united powers of war and famine, which have 
 so often poured forth their fury on the devoted head 
 of poor Scotland, at no time exhibited greater malignity 
 than in the beginning of the reign of David II. For 
 about fifty years, the country had scarcely ever enjoyed 
 a year of quiet with, perhaps, the exception of a short 
 period of the reign of Bruce. Repeatedly swept from 
 one end to the other by the invading armies of the 
 Edwards, carrying the sword and the faggot in every 
 direction, she was, on the very instant of the departure 
 of the foreign foes (in all cases starved out of a burned 
 and devastated land), laid hold of by the harpies of intes- 
 tine wars. The strong resilient energies of the country
 
 27 TALES OF THE BOEDERS. 
 
 could have thrown off the effects of one attack, however 
 severe and however protracted; but a series of incursions of 
 the same disease, at intervals allowing of no time for recruit- 
 ing her powers, produced a political marasmus a confirmed 
 famine one of the most dreadful evils, including in itself 
 all others, that ever was visited on mankind. 
 
 It would be difficult to draw a picture because imagina- 
 tion falls short of the powers of a proper portraiture of the 
 m sery and desolation of Scotland at the time we have men- 
 tioned. The land had got gradually out of cultivation, and 
 the herds of black cattle and sheep, on which the people re- 
 lie d, in default of the productive powers of agriculture, had 
 be n either driven into England, or consumed by the myriads 
 of soldiers of the English invading armies. Great numbers 
 of the people, having nothing wheie#ith to allay the pangs 
 of hunger, though they had plenty of money, quitted their 
 country in despair, and took refuge in Flanders. Those who 
 had no money to pay their passage, left their homes, and be- 
 took themselves to the woods, where, to appease their ago- 
 nies, they lay on the ground, and devoured, like the inhabi- 
 tants of their sties, the acorns and the nuts that had fallen 
 from the trees. In the want of these, the very branches were 
 Md hold of and gnawed; and many poor creatures were 
 found lying dead, with the half-masticated boughs in their 
 clenched hands. The only remedial influence that was ex- 
 perienced, was the growth of dysenteries and other intestine 
 diseases, which, produced by hunger and becoming epidemic, 
 kindly swept off thousands who would otherwise have died 
 of protracted famine. 
 
 At a wild spot near the Grampian Hills, a number of des- 
 titute beings had collected, for the purpose of catching deer 
 (a few of which still remained), to keep in the spark of life. 
 They agreed to associate together, and divide their prey, 
 which was dressed in a mountain cave, where they had as- 
 sembled, f 'verv morning they sallied forth, women and all,
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK. 277 
 
 on the dreadful errand of taking advantage of chance, in 
 supplying them with any species of wild animals that came 
 in their way, to satisfy the imperative demands of hunger. 
 They got a few creatures at first, consisting chiefly of hares 
 and foxes, and occasionally wolves, as ferocious and hungry 
 as their captors; and such was the extremity to which they 
 were often reduced, that they sat down on the spot where the 
 animals were caught, divided the smoking limbs among their 
 number, and devoured them without any culinary prepara- 
 tion. 
 
 This supply very soon ceased the animals in the neigh- 
 bourhood having either been consumed or frightened away 
 to more inaccessible places. The wretched beings, like 
 others in their situation, had recourse to the woods for 
 acorns; but the time of 'the year had passed, and no nuts 
 were to be found. Weakness preyed on their limbs; and 
 several of their number, unable longer to go in search of 
 food, which was nowhere to be found, lay on the floor of 
 the cavern in the agonies of a hunger which their strongef 
 companions, concerned for their own fate, would not alle- 
 viate. All ties between the members of the association 
 began to give way before the despair of absolute famine. 
 They ceased all personal communication; silence, feeding 
 on the morbid forms of misery called up by diseased ima- 
 ginations, reigned throughout the society of skeletons, and 
 hollow eyes, which spoke unutterable things, glanced 
 through the gloom of the cavern, where a glimmering fire, 
 on which they had, for a time, prepared the little meat 
 they had procured, was still kept up, by adding a few pieces 
 of wood from the neighbouring forest. No notice was taken 
 of each other's agonies, nor could the groans which mixed 
 and sounded with a hollow noise through the dark recess, 
 have been distinguished by the ear of sympathy; an occa- 
 sional scream from a female sufferer who experienced a 
 paroxysm of more than her ordinary agony, was only cap-
 
 278 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 able of fixing the attention for an instant, till individual 
 pain laid hold again of the tortured feelings. 
 
 A person of the name of Andrew Christie, a butcher, 
 originally from Perth, had endeavoured,at first, to organise 
 the society, with a view to save himself and his fellow- 
 sufferers. He was a strong, hardy man; and, if any of 
 the number could be said to retain a small portion of self- 
 command, in the midst of the horrible scene of suffering 
 which surrounded them, it was this man. He was still 
 able to walk, though with difficulty,and continued to feed 
 the fire, going out occasionally and seizing on grubs that 
 were to be found about the mouth of the cavern. The 
 others were unable to follow his example, and even he lat- 
 terly was unfitted for his loathsome search. All were now 
 nearly in the same predicament: agony and despair reign- 
 ed throughout, to the exclusion of a single beam of hope of 
 any one ever again visiting the haunts of man. At Chris- 
 tie's side a woman ceased to groan ; an intermission of 
 agony was a circumstance, and the only circumstance to 
 be remarked. The thought struck him she was dead; he 
 laid his hand upon her mouth to be assured of the fact ; 
 she was no more ! The dead body was a talisman in the 
 temple of misery in a short time, that body was gone ! 
 
 The Rubicon of the strongest of natural prejudices was 
 passed, with the goading furies of hunger and despair be- 
 hind. A prejudice overcome is an acquisition of liberty, 
 though it may be for evil. The death of the woman had saved 
 them all from death ; but the efficacy of the salvation would 
 postpone a similar course of relief. Christie saw the pre- 
 dicament of his friends, and proposed in the hollow, husky 
 voice of starvation, that one of their number should die 
 by lot, and that then, having recovered strength, they 
 should proceed to the mountain pass and procure victims. 
 
 This oration was received with groans, meant to be of 
 applause. The lot of death fell on another woman, who
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK, 279 
 
 was sacrificed to the prevailing demon. A consequent 
 recovery of strength now fitted the survivors for their 
 dreadful task. They proceeded to the mountain pass, 
 headed by Christie, and killed a traveller, by knocking 
 him on the head with a hammer, and then removed him to 
 the cavern, where his body was treated in the same man- 
 ner as that of the woman on whom the lot of death had 
 fallen. They repeated this operation whenever their hun- 
 ger returned ; making no selection of their victims, unless 
 when there was a choice between a foot-passenger and a 
 horseman the latter of whom, always preferred for the 
 sake of his horse, was d ragged from his seat with a large iron 
 hook, fixed to the endof apole an invention of Christies, 
 serving afterwards to give him the dreadful name by which 
 he became so well known. That which hunger at first sug- 
 gested became aftei-wards a matter of choice, if not of fiend- 
 ish delight. The silent process of assuaging the pain arising 
 from want subsequently changed into a banquet of canni- 
 bals ; thesongof rivalry was sounded indithyrambic mea- 
 sure over the dead body of the victim, and the corrybantic 
 dance of the wretches who required to still conscience by 
 noise, or die, was footed to the wild music which, escaping 
 from the cavern, rung among the hills. Such were the 
 obsequies which (Scotchmen, resigning the nature of man, 
 amidst unheard-of agonies, celebrated over the corpses 
 of their countrymen. 
 
 These things reached the ears of government; and an 
 armed force was despatched to the hills to seize the canni- 
 bals. Several of them were caught; but Christie and some 
 others escaped, and were never captured. The bon es of their 
 victims were collected,andcon veyed to Perth; where,upon 
 being counted, it appeared that they had killed no fewer 
 than thirty travellers. From these transactions sprung 
 that name, Christiecleek, which is so familiar to the ears of 
 Scotchmen. "Christiecleek ! Christiecleek ! " became in- 
 stantlythe national nursery bugbear. No child would cry
 
 280 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 after the charmed name escaped from the lips of the nurse; 
 and even old people shuddered at the mention of a term 
 which produced ideas so revolting to human nature, and so 
 derogatory of Scottish character. 
 
 Now it is said that, some time after the performance of the 
 dreadful tragedy we have narrated, an old man in the town 
 of Dumfries, who had three children by his wife, quarrelled 
 her often for the use of a term intended simply to pacify 
 her children when they cried, but which he declared was 
 too much even for his ears. He was a respectable mer- 
 chant, had earned a considerable sum of money by his trade, 
 and was reputed a most godly man, attending divine service 
 regularly, and performing all the domestic duties with order 
 and great suavity of manner. His neighbours looked up to 
 him with love and respect, and solicited his counsel in their 
 difficulties. His name David Maxwell was applauded in 
 the neighbourhood, and he received great sympathy from all 
 who knew him, in consequence of having, as was reported, 
 lost an only brother among Christiecleek's victims a fact 
 he had concealed fron his wife, till her use of the name 
 compelled him to mention it to her, but which afterwards 
 came to be well known. 
 
 The silence of the mother had, however, no effect upon 
 the urchins, who, the more they were requested to cease 
 terrifying each other by their national terriculamentum, 
 " Christiecleek," the more terrible it appeared to them, and 
 the more they used it. If they abstained from the use of 
 the word in the presence of their parents, they were the 
 more ready to have recourse to it in the passages of the 
 house, and in the dark rooms, and wherever the dreaded 
 being might be supposed to be. The pastime was general 
 throughout Scotland; and David Maxwell's children only 
 followed an example which has been repeated for five hun- 
 dred years. "Christiecleek! Christiecleek!" What Scotch- 
 man has not heard the dreaded words ? Time rolled on, and
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK. 281 
 
 the Misses Maxwell resigned their childish pastime for the 
 duties of women. Their father had become a very old man; 
 and the attentions which their mother could not bestow, 
 were willingly yielded by the young women, who were re- 
 marked as being very beautiful, as well as very good. They 
 loved their father dearly, and looked upon their filial duties 
 as willing tributes of affection. After they became intrusted 
 with the secret, they substituted for the cry of their youth, 
 which had given their father so much pain, pity for the 
 brother of the victim of the execrated fiend. 
 
 At last David Maxwell came to die; and, as he lay on his 
 lied, surrounded by his wife and daughters, he seemed to be 
 wrestling with some dreadful thought which allowed him no 
 rest, but wrung from him, incessantly, heavy groans and 
 muttered prayers. His wife pressed him to open his heart 
 to her, or, if he was disinclined to repose that confidence in 
 her when dying, which he had awarded to her so liberally 
 during a long union, he should, she recommended, send for 
 Father John of the Monastery of St Agnes, and be shrived. 
 The daughters wept as they heard these melancholy state- 
 ments, and the old man sympathised in their sorrow, which 
 seemed to give him additional pain. At last he seemed in- 
 clined to be communicative, and, after a struggle, said to his 
 wife 
 
 " Wha is to tak care o' my dochters when I am consigned 
 to that cauld habitation whar a faither's love and an enemy's 
 anger are alike unfelt and unknown? My effects will be 
 sufficient for the support o' my household; but money, with- 
 out a guardian, is only a temptation to destroyers and de- 
 ceivers. If I could get this point settled to my satisfaction, 
 I micht die in peace." 
 
 " You never tatild rne o' yer freens, David," said his wife 
 "a circumstance that has often grieved me. The hundreds 
 o' Maxwells in the Stewartry and in Dumfries-shire surely 
 contain among them some relation, however distant; but my
 
 282 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 uncle will act as guardian to our dochters, and ye hao 
 tried his honesty." 
 
 "Yet I dinna want relations," groaned the dying 
 man. " I hae a brither." 
 
 " A brither," ejaculated the mother and daughter in 
 astonishment ; " was he no killed by the monster, 
 Christiecleek, in the Highland cavern J" 
 
 " No," answered David, with great pain." 
 
 " Whar lives he, and what's his Christian name 1 " 
 cried the wife, in amazement. 
 
 " Is it his Christian name ye ask 1 " said the old man. 
 "Surely David," replied the wife "his surname 
 maun be Maxwell." 
 
 " But it is not Maxwell," said he, still groaning. 
 
 " Not Maxwell ! " said the wife. " What is it then ? " 
 
 "Christie /" ejaculated David, with a gi-oau. 
 
 The mention of this name produced a strange effect 
 on the minds of the wife and daughters, who, in the 
 brother, saw (as they thought) at once the hated Chris- 
 tiecleek, and found an explanation of the horror which 
 David Maxwell had uniformly exhibited when the name 
 was mentioned in his presence. They had at last dis- 
 covered the true solution of what had appeared so won- 
 derful ; and, having retired for a few minutes, to allow 
 their excitement to subside, they, by comparing notes, 
 came to the conclusion that their father, having been 
 ashamed of his connection with the unnatural bein<r, 
 
 o' 
 
 had changed his name, and dropped all intercourse 
 with him ; but that now, when he was about to die, 
 his feelings had overpowered him, and forced him to 
 make the awful confession he had uttered. Pained 
 and shamed by this newly-discovered connection, they 
 were not regardless of what was due to him whose 
 shame and grief had been even greater than theirs, 
 and, accordingly, resolved to yield all the consolation 
 in their power to the good man who could not
 
 CHRISTIE OF THE CLEEK. 283 
 
 having a bad brother. On their return to the bedside, 
 they found him in great agony both of mind and body. 
 
 " This brither, David," said the wife, "I fear, is little 
 worthy o' your friendship, and the change o' your name 
 is, doubtless, the consequence o' a virtuous shame o' the 
 connection. But can it be possible that he is that man 
 o' the mountain cavern, whose name terrifies the bairns 
 o' Scotland, and maks even the witches o' the glens 
 raise their bony hands in wonder and execration ? Tell 
 us, David, freely, if this be the burden which presses 
 sae heavily on yer mind. Yer wife and dochters will 
 think nae less o' you for having been iinfortunate ; and 
 consolation is never sae usefu as when it is applied to a 
 grief that is nae langer secret. The surgeon's skill is 
 o' little avail when the disease is unknown." 
 
 This speech, containing apparently the fatal secret, 
 produced a great effect upon the bedridden patient, who 
 rolled from side to side, and sawed the air with hi 
 sinewy hands, like one in a state of madness. 
 
 "We were speakin o' guardians for my dochters," said 
 he, at last, "and I said I had a brither whase surname is- 
 Christie. You promised me consolation. Is this your 
 comfort to a deein man ? For twenty years I have 
 hated the mention o' that dreadfu name ; and now, when 
 I am on my death-bed, speakin o' curators for my bairns, 
 ye rack my ears by tellin me I am the brither o' Chris- 
 tiecleek! Would Christiecleek be a suitable guardian for 
 my dochters 1 Speak, Agnes say if ye think Chris- 
 tiecleek would tak care o' their bodies and their gowd 
 as weel as he tended the victims o' the Highland cave 1 ?" 
 
 The wife saw she had gone too far, and begged. his 
 pardon for having made the suggestion. 
 
 "Ye will forgive me, David,"said she, ''for the remai-k. 
 Ihaedune ye great injustice ; for how is it possible to con- 
 ceive that sae guid a man could be sae nearly related to a
 
 284 TALES OP THE BORDERS 
 
 monster? But ye hae to explain to me the change o' nam& 
 How hae you and your brither different surnames?" 
 
 "Because" said the dying man, turning round, and star- 
 ing with lacklustre eyes broadly in the face of his wife 
 am Christiedeek f" 
 
 ffltfD OP YOL. KL 
 
 Tulls Sf Brook, Printers, Manchester.
 
 WILSON'S 
 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 AND OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 THE FIEST-FOOT. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the shortness of their days, the bitter- 
 ness of their frosts, and the fury of their storms, December 
 and January are merry months. First comes old Christmas, 
 shaking his hoary locks, belike, in the shape of snow-drift, 
 and laughing, well-pleased, beneath his crown of mistletoe, 
 over the smoking sirloin and the savoury goose. There is 
 not a child on the south side of the Borders who longs not 
 for the coming of merry Christmas: it is their holiday of 
 holidays, their season of play and of presents; and old and 
 young shake hands with Christmas, and with each other. 
 And even on the northern side of "the river," and "the 
 ideal line by fancy drawn," which " divide the sister king- 
 doms," there are thousands who welcome and forget not 
 " blithe Yule Day." Next comes the New Year the bottle, 
 the hot pint, and the first-foot and we might notice, also, 
 Hansel Monday, and "Auld Hansel Monanday," which 
 follow in their wake, and keep up the merriment till the 
 back of January is broken. But our business at present is 
 with the first-foot, and we must hold. It matters not on 
 what side of the Borders it may be and northward the 
 feeling extends far beyond the Borders there is a mysterious, 
 an ominous importance attached to the individual who first 
 crosses the threshold, after the clock has struck twelve at 
 t, on the 31st of December, or who is the first-foot
 
 S TALES OF THE BOKDEBS. 
 
 in a house after the New Year has begun. The first-foot 
 stamps the "luck" of the Louse the good fortune or the 
 evil fortune of its inmates throughout the year ! But to 
 begin with our story. There was not a person on all the 
 Borders, nor yet in all Scotland, who attached more impor- 
 tance to the first-foot than Nelly Rogers. Nelly was a very 
 worthy, kindhearted, yea, even sensible sort of woman; but 
 a vein of superstition ran through her sense: she had im- 
 bibed a variety of " auld-warld notions " in infancy, and, as 
 she grew up, they became a part of her creed. She did not 
 exactly believe that ghosts and apparitions existed in her 
 day, but she was perfectly sure they had existed, and had 
 been seen; she was sure, also, there was something in dreams, 
 and she was positive there was a great deal in the luckiness 
 or unluckiness of a first-foot; she had remarked it in hei 
 own experience thirty times, and, she said, " it was o' nae 
 use attempting to argue her out o' what she had observed 
 hersel." Nelly was the wife of one Eichard Rogers, a re- 
 spectable fanner, whose farmhouse stood by the side of the 
 post-road between Kclso and Lauder. They had a family 
 of several children; but our business is with the eldest, who 
 was called George, and who had the misfortune to receive, 
 both from his parents and their neighbours, the character 
 of being a genius. This is a very unfortunate character to 
 give to any one who has a fortune to make in the world, as 
 will be seen when we come to notice the history of George 
 the Genius for such was the appellation by which he was 
 familiarly mentioned. Now, it was the last night of the old 
 year George was about twelve years of age, and, because 
 he was their first-born, and, moreover, because he was a 
 genius, he was permitted to sit with' his father and his 
 mother, and a few friends, who had come to visit them, to 
 see the old year out, and the New Year in. The cuckoo 
 clock struck twelve, and the company rose, shook hands, 
 wished each other a happy new year, and, in a bumper,
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 3 
 
 drank, "May the year that's awa be the warst o' our 
 lives." 
 
 "I wonder wha will be our first-foot," said Nelly; "I 
 hope it will be a lucky ane." 
 
 The company began to argue whether there was anything 
 in the luck of a first-foot or not, and the young genius sided 
 with his mother; and, while they yet disputed upon the sub- 
 ject, a knocking was heard at the front-door. 
 
 " There's somebody," said Nelly; " if it's onybody that I 
 think's no luck, I winna let them in." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Eichard. 
 
 " It's nae nonsense," replied Nelly; " it may be a flat- 
 soled body, for onything I ken; and do ye think I wad risk 
 the like o' that. Haud awa, see wha it is, George," added 
 she, addressing the genius; "and dinna let them in unless 
 you're sure that they dinna come empty-handed." 
 
 "Did ever ye hear the like o' the woman?" said her hus- 
 band. "Sic havers! Ein awa, George, hinny; open the 
 door." 
 
 The boy ran to the door, and inquired "Who's there?" 
 
 "A stranger," was the reply. 
 
 "What do ye want?" inquired the genius, with a degree 
 of caution seldom found in persons honoured with such an 
 epithet. 
 
 " I have a letter to Master Eogers, from his brother," an- 
 swered the stranger. 
 
 "A letter frae my brother John!" cried Eichard, start- 
 ing from his seat; " open the door, laddie open the door." 
 
 Now, Eichard Eogers had a brother, who also had been 
 considered a sort of a genius in his youth. He was of a wild 
 and restless disposition in those days, and his acquaintances 
 were wont to call him by the name of Jack the Eambler. 
 But it is a long road that has no turning he had now been 
 many years at sea was the captain of a free-trader and 
 as remarkable for his steadiness and worldly wisdom, as he
 
 4 TALES OP THE EOKDEKS. 
 
 had been noted for the wildness of his youth. There was a 
 mysterious spot in the captain's history, which even his 
 brother Richard had never been able to clear up. But that 
 spot will be brought to light by and by. 
 
 George opened the door, and the stranger entered. He 
 was dressed as a seaman; and Nelly drew back and appeared 
 troubled as her eyes fell upon him. It was evident she had 
 set him down in her mind as an unlucky first-foot. He 
 was not, indeed, the most comely personage that one might 
 desire to look upon on a New-year's morning; for he was 
 a squat little fellow, with huge red whiskers that almost 
 buried his face; his burly head was covered with a sou- 
 wester, and his eyes squinted most fearfully. Nelly could 
 not withdraw her eyes from the man's eyes she contem- 
 plated the squint with horror ! Such eyes were never in 
 the head of a first-foot before! She was sure that "some- 
 thing no canny would be the upshot." 
 
 " Tak a seat, sir tak a seat, sir," said Richard, address- 
 ing the sailor; " fill out a glass, and mak yoursel at hame. 
 Nelly, bring a clean tumbler. And ye hae a letter frae my 
 brother, the captain, sir" added he, anxiously; " how is he ? 
 where is he? when did ye see him?" 
 
 " I left him at Liverpool, sir," replied the queer-looking 
 sailor; " and, as I intended to take a run down over and to 
 Leith to see my old mother, ' Bill,' says he to me (for my 
 name's Bill, sir Bill Somers) well, as I'm saying, 'Bill,' 
 says he, ' you'll be going past the door of a brother of mine, 
 and I wish I were going with you' (and I wish he had, 
 for, not to say it before you, sir, there an't a better or a 
 cleverer fellow than Captain Rogers in the whole service 
 nor a luckier one either, though, poor fellow, he has had his 
 bad luck too in some things; and it sticks to him still, and 
 will stick to him) however, as I say, said he to me 'Bill, 
 here is a bit of a letter, give it to my brother it concerns 
 my nevy, George' (yes, George, I think he called him). So
 
 THE FIEST-FOOT. 5 
 
 I took the letter and set off that is some days ago and I 
 arrived at the public-house, a little from this, about four 
 hours since, and intended to cast anchor there for the night; 
 but having taken a glass or two, by way of ballast, I found 
 myself in good sailing trim, and, having inquired about you, 
 and finding that you lived but a short way off, and that the 
 people in the house said, it being New-year's times, you 
 wouldn't be moored yet, I desired the landlady to fill 
 me up half-a-gallon or so of her best rum, that I mightn't 
 come empty-handed for that wouldn't be lucky, ma'am, I 
 reckon," added he, squinting in the face of Mrs Eogers, who 
 looked now at his eyes, and now at a large bottle, which he 
 drew from beneath a sort of half greatcoat or monkey- 
 jacket. Nelly was no friend to spirit-drinking; neverthe- 
 less she was glad that her first-foot, though he did squint, 
 had not come empty-handed. 
 
 She letter was handed to Mr Eogers, who, having broke 
 the seal "Preserve us, Eichard!" said Nelly, "that's a 
 lang epistle ! I daursay the captain's made his will in't 
 what does he say?" 
 
 " It's a kind, sensible, weel- written letter," said Eichard, 
 " for John was a genius a' his days; and there is mail* about 
 a will in't than ye're aware o'. But there's nae secret in't 
 George will read it." 
 
 The letter was then given to the genius, who read as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " DEAR DICE, As one of my crew, Bill Seiners, who lias sailed with 
 me for a dozen years, is going down to Scotland, and will pass your 
 way, I take the opportunity of writing to you, and letting you know 
 that I am as well as a person who has as much cause to be unhappy 
 as I have can desire to he. The cause of that unhappiness you don't 
 know, and few know it but I do, and that's enough. I have made 
 some money perhaps a good deal but that's of no consequence. I 
 once thought that I might have them of my own flesh and blood to in- 
 herit it; however, that was not to be. It is a long story, and a sad 
 story one that you know nothing about, and which it is of no use to
 
 6 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 tell you about now. As things are, my nevy George is to be heir to 
 whatever money, goods, and chattels I possess." 
 
 As her son read this, Nelly thought that it was nonsense, 
 after all, to say that a squint first-foot was unlucky. 
 
 "Read on, George," said his father, "and tak heed to 
 what your uncle says." 
 
 The boy resumed the letter, and again read 
 
 " Now, as my nevy is to be my heir, I think it my duty to lay down 
 a sort of chart or call it svhat you like by which I would wish him 
 to shape his future conduct. I am glad to hear that his head is of the 
 right sort; but let us have none of your fiddle ornaments about it. A 
 lofty prow is not always the best for a storm, and looks bad enough 
 with a Dutch stern. Beware, also, how you let him to sea before his 
 vessel is fairly rigged, caulked, and waterproof or, if you do, then 
 look out for his growing top-heavy, and capsising in the turn of a 
 handspike. If you set him off with a bare allowance of ballast, and 
 without a single letter of credit do you expect him to bring home a 
 cargo 1 ? It is stuff, Dick arrant stuff! All your boy exhibitions are 
 downright swindling. Prodigies, forsooth ! why, parrots can speak, 
 and jackdaws chatter. Or, to render myself intelligible to your agri- 
 cultural senses, a tree blossoms in its first year, and a selfish, deluded 
 idiot plucks it up, exhibits it in the market-place the bud perishes, 
 and the tree withers, while gaping lubbers wonder that it did not bear 
 fruit ! Now, Dick, this is always the case with all you fast-sailing 
 miracles. Give a boy the helm, and get him to the drudgery of the 
 cabin again, if you can. 
 
 " As to his love affairs, provided the girl of his choice be virtuous, 
 and tolerably pretty though neither very rich nor very intelligent 
 see that you don't strike off at a tangent, and, like one of your own 
 stupid cattle, run counter to his will. If you do, it will only hasten 
 what you wish to prevent or render a marrhge certain, which the 
 young couple thought sufficiently doubtful. Besides, your opposition 
 might spoil a poor girl's reputation; and I have always found that im- 
 putations of a certain class, upon a man, are like marks left upon the 
 sand within a tide-mark; but to a woman a lovely, helpless woman 
 they adhere like a limpit to the rock. Besides this, Dick, I am 
 certain the most powerful impression of moral rectitude you can im- 
 print upon his heart would be like a pistol fired from a cock-boat, 
 compared to the glorious and irresistible broadside of a seventy-four,
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 7 
 
 when you contrast its influence upon his actions with the delightful 
 and conquering emotions of love and esteem which he entertains for 
 an amiable woman. Don't preach to me, Dick, for I know when the 
 devil, the world, and the flesh, war against our better principles, and 
 when early instructions, counsels, and all that sort of things, are 
 fairly run down and drop astern, why, if a fellow just think for a 
 moment of the beautiful being, whose soul is as pure as the blue sea 
 on a summer day if he just think of her or of her last words, 
 ' Don't forget me!' belay! is the word about goes the helm head 
 round from the lee-shore of inconsistency, and he is again quietly 
 moored in the fair-way of virtue. 
 
 "When he begins to shape into manhood, Discretion is the watch- 
 word; and whatever he or others may think of his abilities, let him 
 douse Presumption, and stow it below, hoist a desire to please at the 
 fore-top, place Perseverance, at the helm, and Civility and Moderate 
 Ambition upon the watch. People say they like a plain-spoken, ho- 
 nest fellow, who says what he thinks. But it is all a fudge. Just 
 speak in the jack-blunt manner which they praise respecting them- 
 selves, and, mark me, they will march off to another tune. Let any 
 man practise this for a time, and he will soon be hated by every soul 
 on board. I don't mean to advise dissimulation; but a man can get 
 enemies enough without making them; therefore, where he has no 
 good to say of a person, though they may have injured him, let him 
 hold his tongue. 
 
 " Another thing, and an important one, for him to remember, is 
 he who is the king of good fellows, and a ' good soul ' amongst his 
 associates, is styled by the public a thoughtless man, and by his 
 enemies a drunkard. Now, Dick, in the world of business, a good 
 fellow simply means a good-for-nothing. Therefore, see to it, and put 
 my nevy on the look-out; for, not to speak of the growing influence of 
 habit, just attribute unsteadiness to a man, and you bring him a wind 
 ahead, stop his credit, and hurl him to ruin headlong. Sobriety is 
 his compass sobriety is his passport. 
 
 " Again, Dick, I would neither wish to see him a booby nor a maw- 
 worm; but I must tell you that the opinion the world forms of us is 
 often cast upon very trivial circumstances. A heedlessly committed 
 action, which we forget in half-an-hour, others will remember to our 
 disadvantage for twelve months. There is nothing like being well- 
 braced with circumspection; let him always look well to his bearing 
 and distance, or he will soon find himself out in his latitude. No maa
 
 8 TALES OF THE BORDEKS. 
 
 of any ambition, or whether he was ambitious or not, ever loved a man 
 who presumed to he in all things wiser that himself. I don't wish 
 to lecture upon humbug humility, but diffidence and good-breeding 
 should never be under the poop. Let him take heed, also, how he 
 dabbles in politics or religion. Both concern him, and he must think 
 and act upon both; but he must do so as becomes a man. I hate" all 
 your noisy boatswain politicians, both aboard the Commons and out 
 of it. The moment I see a lubberly fellow swinging his arms about 
 and blowing a hurricane, whether he be endeavouring to blow a na- 
 tion or a tavern into agitation there rages a grand rascal, say I; his 
 patriotism, and the froth which he scatters from his mouth, are of a 
 piece. Now, as to his religious principles, of all things, let him keep 
 them to himself. Every man is as much in the right, in his own es- 
 timation, as he is. Nothing will procure a man more enemies than a 
 real or affected singularity in matters of religion* For though there 
 is a great deal of good sense afloat in the world, yet there is such a fry 
 of feverish, canting, small craft, always skulking about, and peeping 
 into CUT pees and ques, which, though they cannot sink your character, 
 they annoy it with their sparrow-hail. In a word, Dick, every intel- 
 ligent being's religion lies between his own conscience and his Maker. 
 Give my nevy a Bible, with a father's best blessing in it he will find 
 the ennobling hopes of eternity, and learn to do unto others as he would 
 wish others to do unto him; and this, from the bottom of my heart, is 
 the advice of his uncle Jack. 
 
 " A sterling, upright, moral character, is absolutely indispensable. 
 If the heart be well built, and kept in good sailing trim, he will have 
 a tell-tale there which will keep all right aloft. As well set a seaman 
 upon a voyage of discovery without a compass, as a young fellow upon 
 the world without a character. But, d'ye see, because you can't go to 
 sea without a compass of this kind, you are not to expect that, in all 
 cases, it will insure you of reaching the pole. No, Dick, it is rather 
 like a pilot sent out to steer you in, when you are within sight of land, 
 and without whose assistance you cannot reach the port. 
 
 " In conversation, too, I hate to see a smooth-water puppy running 
 at the rate of twelve knots, as if no vessel in the fleet could sail but 
 his own. I have seen fellows of this sort showing off like gilded pin- 
 naces at a rBgatta, while they were only showing how little they hai 
 on board. Two things, in particular, I wish my nevy to avoid 
 namely, argufying in company, and speaking about himself. There 
 is a time and a place for everything; and, though argument be well
 
 THE FIEST-FOOT. 9 
 
 enough in its way, he who is always upon the look-out for one is just 
 as sure as he finds it to find an enemy; and, as to speaking of one's- 
 self, independent of its ill-breeding, it is like a dose of salt-water 
 erved round the company. The grand secret of conversation is, to 
 say little in a way to please, and the moment you fail to do so, it is time 
 to shove your boat off. Whenever you see a person yawn in your com- 
 pany, take your hat. 
 
 " Independent of these things, let him look well to his tide-table. 
 Without punctuality, the best character becomes a bad one. The 
 moment a man breaks his word, or becomes indifferent to his engage- 
 ment, why, the confidence of his commodore is at an end; and, instead 
 of being promoted to the quarterdeck, he may slave before the mast 
 till the boatswain's last whistle pipes all hands to his funeral. Punc- 
 tuality, Dick systematical, methodical punctuality is a fortune to a 
 fellow ready made. Let him once listen to the syren voice of delay 
 neglect to weigh anchor with the tide, and if he don't drift back with 
 the current, go to pieces on a sand-bank, or be blown to sticks by a 
 foul wind, my name's not Jack. Let him keep a sharp eye upon the 
 beginning, the middle, and the end of everything he undertakes. Ho 
 must not tack about, like a fellow on a cruise or a roving commission, 
 but, whatever wind blows, maintain a straight course, keeping his 
 head to the port. Burns, the poet, spoke like a philosopher, when he 
 said it was the misfortune of his life to be without an aim. But I 
 tell you what, Dick, we must not only have an object to steer to, but 
 it must be a reasonable object. A madman may say he is determined 
 to go to the North Pole, or the moon; but that's not the thing, Dick: 
 our anticipations must be likelihoods, our ambitions probabilities; 
 and when we have made frequent calculations, and find ourselves cor- 
 rect in our reckoning, though we have made but little way, then down 
 with despondency, and stick to perseverance. I don't mean a beg- 
 garly, servile, grovelling perseverance, but the unsubdued determina- 
 tion of an unconquerable spirit, riding out the storm, and, while small 
 craft sink on every side, disdaining to take in a single reef. 
 
 " Now, having said thus much about shaping his course, and layiflg 
 in a freight, it is material that I drop a concluding word with regard 
 to his rigging. Send him out with patched canvas, and the veriest 
 punt that ever disgraced the water will clear out before him. A 
 patch upon his coat will be an embargo on his prospects. People 
 affect to despise tailors; but it is base ingratitude, or shallow dissi- 
 mulation. Not that I would for the world see my nevy an insignifi-
 
 10 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 cant dandy, but remember, the moment the elbows of your coat open, 
 every door shuts. 
 
 " But my fingers are cramped with this long epistle, and, moreover, 
 the paper is full; and with love to nevy George, to Nelly, and the 
 little ones, I am, dear Dick, your affectionate brother, 
 
 " JOHN ROGERS, 
 "Otherwise, JACK THE RAMBLER." 
 
 All applauded this letter, when they had heard it, and 
 they vowed the captain was a clever fellow a noble fel- 
 low ay, and a wise one; and they drank his health and a 
 happy New Year to him, though half of what he had 
 written, from his nautical types and symbols, was as Greek 
 and Latin unto those who heard it, and worse unto George 
 the Genius, who read it; though some parts of it all under- 
 stood. 
 
 When the health of Captain Eogers had gone round 
 
 " I wonder in the world," said Eichard, " what it can be 
 that my brother aye refers to about being unhappy 1 I've 
 written to him fifty times, to try to fathom it; but I never 
 could he never would gie me ony satisfaction." 
 
 " Why," said the seaman, as he sat leaning forward, and 
 turning round his sou- wester between his knees, "I believe 
 I know, or I can guess a something about the matter. It's 
 about ten years ago, according to my reckoning, we were 
 coming down the Mediterranean the captain was as fine 
 a looking young fellow then as ever stood upon a deck. 
 Well, as I was saying, we were coming down the Mediter- 
 ranean, and at Genoa we took a gentleman and his daughter 
 on board. She was a pretty creature; I've seen nothing 
 like her neither before nor since. So, as I'm telling you, 
 we took them on board at Genoa, for England, and they 
 had not been many days on board, till every one saw, and 
 I saw though my eyes are none o' the smartest that the 
 captain could look on nothing but his lovely passenger. 
 It wasn't hard to see that she looked much in the same
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 11 
 
 way at Mm, and I have seen them walking on the deck at 
 night, with her arm through his, in the moonlight; and, let 
 me tell you, a glorious eight it is moonlight on the Medi- 
 terranean ! It is enough to make a man fall in love with 
 moonlight itself, if there be nothing else beside him. Well, 
 d'ye see, as I am saying, it wasn't long until the old gentle- 
 man, her father, saw which way the land lay; and one day 
 we heard the lady weeping; she never came out of her cabin 
 during the rest of the voyage, nor did her father again speak 
 to the master. We were laid up for a long time, and there 
 was a report that the captain and her had got married, un- 
 known to her father. However, we sailed on a long voyage; 
 we weren't back to England again for more than twelve 
 months; but the day after we landed, the captain shut him- 
 self up, and, for long and long, we used to find him sit- 
 ting with the salt-water in his eyes. We again heard 
 the report that he had been married, and also that .his 
 lady had died in childbed; but whether the child was liv- 
 ing or ever was living, or whether it was a boy or a 
 girl, we didn't know; nor did he know; and, I believe, he 
 never was able to hear any more about the old gentleman 
 so, as I say, that's all I know about the matter, poor fel- 
 low." 
 
 Now, the squinting sailor remained two days in the house 
 of Eichard Eogers, and he was such a comical man, and 
 such a goodnatured, kindhearted man, that Mrs Rogers was 
 certain he would be a lucky first-foot, even though he had 
 a very unfortunate cross look with his eyes; and she was the 
 more convinced in this opinion, because, in a conversation 
 she had had with him, and in which she had inquired 
 "What siller he thought the captain might be worth?" 
 " Why, I'm saying," answered the sailor, " Captain Rogers 
 is worth a round twenty thousand, if he be worth a single 
 penny; and that, I'm thinking, is a pretty comfortable thing 
 for Master George to be heir to!" "Ay, and so it is," re-
 
 12 TALES OF THJS BOBDEES. 
 
 aponded Nelly. And there was no longer anything disagree- 
 able in the sailor's squint. 
 
 Well, week followed week, and month succeeded month 
 spring came, and summer came, and harvest followed; and it 
 was altogether a lucky year to Richard Rogers. Nelly declared 
 that the squinting sailor had been an excellent first-foot. 
 
 Another year came, another, and another, until eight years 
 passed round since they had been visited by the outlandish 
 seaman. Nelly had had both lucky and unlucky first-feet. 
 George the Genius was now a lad of twenty, and the other 
 children were well grown but George was still a genius, 
 and nothing but a geniiis. He was indeed a good scholar 
 a, grand scholar, as his mother declared and a great one, as 
 his - father affirmed. He had been brought up to no profes- 
 sion, for it was of no use thinking of a profession for one 
 who was heir to twenty thousand pounds; and, at any rate, 
 his genius was sure to make him a fortune. In what way 
 his genius was to do this was never taken into considera- 
 tion. Many people said, " If we had your genius, George, 
 we could make a fortune." And George thought he would 
 and could. The joiner in the next village, however, said, 
 that "Wi' a' George's genius, he didna believe he could mak 
 an elshin-heft, and stick him ! and, in his opinion, there was 
 mair to be made by making elshin-hefts than by wilting bal- 
 lants!" 
 
 As I have said, eight years had passed; it was again the 
 last night of the old year, and a very dark and stormy night 
 it was. Mr Rogers, his wife, their son George, and the rest 
 of their family, had again seen the old year out, and the New 
 Year in, and exchanged with each other the compliments of 
 the season, when the cuckoo-clock again announced the hour 
 of twelve. Nelly had " happed up the fire " with her own 
 hands a thing that she always did on the last night of the 
 old year, that it might not be out on a New-year's morning. 
 She was again wondering who would be their first-foot, and
 
 THE FIBST-FOOT. 13 
 
 expressing a hope that it would be a lucky one, when a chaise 
 drew up before the house, and the driver, dismounting and 
 knocking at the window, begged that they would favour him 
 with a light, as the roads were exceedingly dark, and the 
 lamps of the chaise had been blown out by the wind. 
 
 " A licht !" exclaimed Betty, half petrified at the request; 
 "preserve us! is the man beside himsel? Do ye imagine 
 that onybody is gaun to gie ye out a licht the first thing on 
 a New-year's morning ? Gae awa ! gae awa ! " 
 
 In vain the driver expostulated he had met with simi- 
 lar treatment at other houses at which he had called. " Ye 
 hae nae business to travel at siccan a time o' nicht," replied 
 Betty to all his arguments. Her husband said little, for he 
 entertained some of his wife's scruples against giving a light 
 at such a time. George mildly ridiculed the absurdity of 
 the refusal; but " I am mistress o' my ain house," answered 
 his mother, " and I'll gie a licht out o't when I please, and 
 only when I please. Wi' a' yer learnin, George, ye wad be 
 a great fool sometimes." 
 
 The voice of a lady was now heard at the window with 
 the driver, saying "Pray, good people, do permit us to light 
 the lamps, and you shall have any recompense." No sooner 
 did George hear the lady's voice, than, in despite of his 
 mother's frowns, he sprang to the door and unlocked it. 
 With an awkward sort of gallantry he ushered in the fair 
 stranger. She was, indeed, the loveliest first-foot that had 
 ever crossed the threshold of Mrs Rogers. She had no sooner 
 entered, than Nelly saw and felt this, and, with a civility 
 which formed a strange contrast to her answers to the driver, 
 she smoothed down for her the cushioned arm-chair by the 
 side of the fire. The young lady (for she hardly appeared 
 to exceed seventeen) politely declined the proffered hospita- 
 lity. " Sit down, my sweet young leddy; now, do sit down 
 just to oblige me," said Nelly. " Ye are our first-foot, and 
 I hope I'm sure ye'U b a lucky ans; and yo wixLua, ye
 
 14 TALES OP THE BORDEBS. 
 
 canna be gaun out without tasting wi' us on a New-year's 
 morning." 
 
 The young lady sat down; and Nelly hastened to spread 
 upon the table little mountains of short-bread (of which she 
 was a notable maker), with her spice-loaf, milk-scones, and 
 her best ewe-cheese, and her cream-cheese, which was quite 
 a fancy ! And while his mother was so occupied, George 
 produced three or four sorts of home-made wine of his own 
 manufacture; for, in his catalogue of capabilities as a genius., 
 it must be admitted that he had some which might be said 
 to belong to the useful. 
 
 " Now, make yoursel at hame, my dear leddy," said Nelly; 
 " need nae pressing. Or if ye wad like it better, I'll get ye 
 ready a cup o' tea in a minute or twa; the kettle's boiling; 
 and it's only to mask, so diuua say no. Indeed, if ye'll only 
 consent to stop a' nicht, ye shall hae the best bed in the 
 house, and we'll put the horses in the stable; for it's no owre 
 nnd nboon lucky to gie or tak a licht on a New-year's- morn- 
 ing." 
 
 A faint smile played across the lips of the fair stranger, 
 at the mixture of Nelly's kindness and credulity; and she 
 thanked her for her hospitality, but stated that she must 
 proceed on her journey, as she was hastening to the death- 
 bed of a near and only relative. The young lady, however, 
 sat longer than she wist, for she had entered into conversa- 
 tion with George how, she knew not, and he knew not; 
 but they were pleased with each other; and there were 
 times (though it was only at times) that George could talk 
 like an inspired being; and this was one of those times. 
 The knowledge, the youth, the beauty of the lovely stranger, 
 had kindled all the fires of his genius within him. Even his 
 father was surprised, and his mother forgot that the chaise- 
 driver was lighting the lamps; and how long the fair lady 
 might have listened to George, we cannot tell, had not the 
 driver hinted, "All's ready, ma'am; the horses will get no
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 15 
 
 good in the cold." She arose, and took leave of her enter- 
 tainers; and George accompanied her to the chaise, and 
 shook her hand, and bade her farewell, as though she had 
 been an old and a veiy dear friend. He even thought, as 
 she replied, " Farewell? that there was a sadness in her 
 tone, as if she were sorry to say it. 
 
 Richard and his spouse retired to rest; but still the 
 thought of having given a light out of her house on a New- 
 year's morning troubled her, and she feared that, after all, 
 her lovely first-foot would prove an unlucky one. George 
 laid his head upon his pillow, to dream dreams, and conjure 
 up visions of the fair stranger. 
 
 A short week had not passed, however Richard was re- 
 turning from Kelso market, the roads were literally a sheet 
 of ice (it is said that bones are most easily broken in frosty 
 weather), his horse fell, and rolled over him, and he was 
 carried home bruised, and with his leg broken. Nelly was 
 loud in her lamentations, and yet louder in her upbraidings, 
 against George and against herself, that she permitted a 
 light to be carried out of her house on a New-year's morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " It was borne in upon me," said she, " the leddy wadua 
 be lucky, that something would come out o' the giein the 
 licht!" 
 
 But this was not all: before two months elapsed, and 
 just as her husband was beginning to set his foot to the 
 ground again, from friction and negligence together, the 
 thrashing-machine took fire. It was still a severe frost, 
 there was scarce a drop of water to be procured about the 
 place, and, in spite of the exertions of all the people on the 
 farm, and their neighbours, who came to their assistance, 
 the fierce flames roared, spread, and rushed from stack to 
 stack, until the barn, the stables, the stackyard, and the 
 dwelling-house presented a heap of smouldering ashes and 
 smoking ruins. Yet this was not the worst evil which had
 
 16 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 that day fallen upon Richard Rogers. He was one of those 
 individuals who have an aversion to the very name of a 
 bank, and he had the savings and the profits of twenty 
 years in fifty-pound notes, and in five-pound notes, and 
 crown-pieces locked away in a strong drawer in his bed- 
 room. In the confusion of the fire, and as he bustled halt- 
 ing about, with the hope of saving some of his wheat-stacks 
 (for wheat was selling high at the time), he forgot the 
 strong drawer, and his twenty years' savings, until flames 
 were seen bursting from the window of his bedroom. The 
 window had been left open, and some of the burning mate- 
 rials having been blown into the room, it was the first part 
 of the house which caught fire. 
 
 " Oh, I'm ruined ! I'm ruined ! " cried Richard; " my 
 siller ! my siller ! my hard- won siller ! " 
 
 A rush was made to the bedroom; but before they 
 reached it, the stairs gave way, the floor fell in, and a 
 thick flame and suffocating smoke buried the fruits of poor 
 Richard's industry the treasure which he had laid up for 
 his children. 
 
 "Now, I am a beggar!" groaned he, lifting up his hands, 
 while the flames almost scorched his face. 
 
 " Oh, black sorrow tak that leddy ! " cried Nelly, wring- 
 ing her hands; "what tempted her to be my first-foot? 
 or what tempted me to gie her a licht ? George ! George ! 
 it was a' you ! We gied fire out o' the house, and now 
 we've brocht it about us ! "Wae's me ! wae's me ! I'm a 
 ruined woman ! Oh, Richard, what will we do ? What 
 was ye thinking about, that ye didua mind the siller ? " 
 
 Richard knew nothing of the number of his notes, and 
 his riches had indeed vanished in a flash of fire ! He was 
 now obliged to take shelter with his family in an outhouse, 
 which had been occupied by a cottar. He had not heard 
 from Captain Rogers for more than twelve months, and he 
 knew not where he was; therefore he could expect no im-
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 17 
 
 mediate assistance from him. It was now necessary that 
 George should bring his genius into action his father could 
 no longer support him in idleness; and, as it had always 
 been said that he had only to exert his genius to make a 
 fortune, George resolved that he would exert it, and he was 
 pleased with the thought of setting his father on his feet 
 again by the reward of his talents. He had read some- 
 where in the writings of Dr Johnson (and the doctor had 
 a good deal of experience in the matter), that "genius was 
 sure to meet with its reward in London;" and, if the doctor 
 was sure of that, George was as sure that he was a genius, 
 and therefore he considered the reward as certain. So 
 George determined, as his uncle might live many years, 
 that he would go to London and make a fortune for him- 
 self, and to assist his father in the meantime. A cow was 
 taken to Kelso market and sold for eight pounds, and the 
 money was given to George, to pay his expenses to the 
 metropolis, and to keep him there until his genius should 
 put him in the way of making the anticipated fortune. 
 His coat was not exactly such a one as his uncle desired he 
 should be sent out into the world in not that it was posi- 
 tively a bad coat, but it was beginning to be rather smooth 
 and clear about the elbows, a lighter shade ran up on each 
 side of the seams at the back, and his hat was becoming 
 bare round the edges on the crown. To be sure, as his 
 mother said, " he would aye hae ink beside him, and a dip 
 o' ink would help to hide that." These, however, were 
 things that could not be mended the wardrobe of the 
 whole family had been consumed at the fire; but these 
 things did not distress George, for he did not consider it 
 necessary for a genius to appear in a new coat. There were 
 many tears shed on both sides when George bade adieu to 
 his father, his mother, and his brethren, and took his jour- 
 ney towards London. 
 It was about ths middle of March when he arrived in 
 
 A2
 
 18 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 the metropolis; and, having spent two days wandering 
 about and wondering at all he saw, without once thinking 
 how his genius was to make the long-talked-of fortune, on 
 the third day he delivered a letter of introduction, which he 
 had received, to a broker in the city. Now it so happened 
 that in this letter poor George was spoken of as an " extra- 
 ordinary genius ! " 
 
 " So you are a great genius, young man, my friend in- 
 forms me," said the broker; "what have you a genius 
 for?" 
 
 George blushed and looked confused; he almost said 
 "for everything;" but he hung down his head, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 "Is it a genius for making machines or playing the 
 fiddle or what?" added the broker. 
 
 George looked more and more confused; he replied 
 " that he could neither make machines, nor did he know 
 anything of music." 
 
 " Then I hope it's not a genius for making ballads, is it ?" 
 continued the other. 
 
 " I have written ballads," answered George, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Oh, then, you must try the west end you won't do for 
 the city," added the broker; "your genius is an article 
 that's not in demand here." 
 
 George left the office of the London citizen, mortified and 
 humiliated. For a dozen long years everybody had told 
 him he was a genius; and now, when the question was put 
 to him "what had he a genius for?" he could net answer 
 it. This rebuff rendered him melancholy for several days, 
 and he wandered from street to street, sometimes standing, 
 unconscious of what he was doing, before the window of a 
 bookseller, till, jostled by the crowd, he moved on, and again 
 took his stand before the window of the printseller, the 
 jeweller, or the vender of caricatures. Still he believed that 
 he was a genius, and he was conscious that that genius
 
 TIIE FIRST-FOOT. 19 
 
 might make him a fortune; only he knew not how to apply 
 it he was puzzled where to begin. Yet he did not despair. 
 He thought the day would come but how it was to come 
 he knew not. He took out his uncle's letter, which his 
 father had put into his hands when he left him, and he read 
 it again, and said, it was all very good, but what was 
 he the better of it? it was all very true too true, for 
 he understood every word of it now; and he turned 
 round his arm, and examined his coat with a sigh, and 
 beheld that the lining was beginning to show its unwel- 
 come face through the seams of the elbows. I should have 
 told you that he was then sitting in a coffee-house, sipping 
 his three-halfpence-worth of coffee, and Idtcliening his 
 pennyworth of bread, which was but half-a-slice, slightly 
 buttered and a thin slice, too, compared with those of his 
 mother's cutting. He was beginning to feel one of the first 
 rewards of genius eating by measure! To divert the 
 melancholy of his feelings, and the gloom of his prospects, 
 he took up a magazine which lay on the table before him. 
 His eyes fell upon a review of a poem which had been 
 lately published, and for which the author was said to have 
 received a thousand guineas ! 
 
 "A thousand guineas /" exclaimed George, dropping the 
 magazine "a thousand guineas! I shall make a fortune 
 yet ! " 
 
 He had read some of the extracts from the poem he 
 was sure he could write better lines his eyes flashed with 
 ecstasy his very nostrils distended with delight a thou- 
 sand guineas seemed already in his pocket ! though, alas ! 
 out of the eight pounds which he had received as the price 
 of his father's cow, with all his management, and with all his 
 economy, he had but eight shillings left. But his resolution 
 was taken he saw fortune hovering over him with her 
 golden wings he purchased a quire of paper and half-a- 
 dozen quills, and hurried to his garret for his lodging ivat
 
 20 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 a garret, in which there was nothing but an old bed and an 
 olden chair, not even an apology for a table; but sometimes 
 the bed served the purpose of one, and at other times he 
 sat upon the floor like a Turk, and wrote upon the chair. 
 He was resolved to write an epic; for the idea of a thou- 
 sand guineas had taken possession of all his faculties. Ho 
 made a pen he folded the paper he rubbed his hands 
 across his brow for a subject. He might have said with 
 Byron had Byron then said it 
 
 " I want a hero ! " 
 
 He thought of a hundred subjects, and with each the idea 
 of his mother's beautiful but most unlucky first-foot was 
 mingled ! At length he fixed upon one, and began to write. 
 He wrote most industriously in short, he wrote for a thou- 
 sand guineas ! He tasked himself to four hundred lines 
 a-day, and in a fortnight he finished a poem containing 
 about five thousand. It was longer than that for which 
 the thousand guineas had been given; but George thought, 
 though he should get no more for his, that even a thousand 
 guineas was very good payment for a fortnight's labour. 
 Of the eight shillings which we mentioned his being in pos- 
 session of when he began the epic, he had now but three- 
 pence, and he was in arrears for the week's rent of his 
 garret. The landlady began to cast very suspicious glances 
 at her lodger she looked at him with the sides of her eyes. 
 She did not know exactly what a genius meant, but she 
 had proof positive it did not mean a gentleman. At times, 
 also, she would stand with his garret-door in her hand, as 
 if she intended to say, " Mr Rogers, I would thank you for 
 last week's rent." 
 
 Scarce was the ink dry upon the last page of his poem, 
 when George, folding up the manuscript, put it carefully 
 into his coat-pocket, and hurried to the bookseller of whom 
 he had read that he had given a thousand guineas for a 
 shorter work, and one, too, that, he was satisfied in his own
 
 THE FIEST-FOOT. 21 
 
 mind, was every way inferior to his. We do not say that 
 he exactly expected the publisher to fall down and worship 
 him, the moment he read the first page of his production, 
 but he did believe that he would regard him as a prodigy, 
 and at once offer terms for the copyright. He was informed 
 by a shopman, however, that the publisher was engaged, 
 and he left the manuscript, stating that he would call again. 
 George did call again, and yet again, trembling with hope 
 and anxiety; and he began to discover that a great London 
 publisher was as difficult of access as his imperial mighti- 
 ness the Emperor of China. At length, by accident, he 
 found the bibliopole in his shop. He gave a glance at 
 George it was a withering glance a glance at his coat 
 and at his elbows. The unfortunate genius remembered, 
 when it was too late, the passage in his uncle's letter, "the 
 moment the elbows of your coat open, every door shuts.". 
 We have already mentioned that the lining was beginning 
 to peer through them, and, during the fervour of inspira- 
 tion, or the furor of excitement in composing the epic, he 
 had not observed that the rent had become greater, that 
 the lining, too, had given way, and that now his linen, 
 which was not of a snow colour, was visible. He inquired 
 after his manuscript. 
 
 " What is it 1 " asked the publisher. 
 
 "A poem," answered George "an epic !" 
 
 The man of books smiled; he gave another look at the 
 forlorn elbows of the genius it was evident he measured 
 the value of his poetry by the value of his coat. 
 
 "A poem!" replied he; "poetry's a drug! It is of no 
 use for such as you to think about writing poetry. Give 
 the young man his manuscript," said he to the shopman, 
 and walked away. 
 
 The reader may imagine the feelings of our disappointed 
 genius: they were bitter as the human soul could bear. Yet 
 he did not altogether despair; there were more booksellers
 
 22 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 in London. It is unnecessary to tell how he offered his 
 manuscript to another, and another, yea, to twenty more 
 how he examined what books they had published in their 
 windows and how he entered their shops with fear and 
 trembling, for his hopes were becoming fainter and more 
 faint. Some opened it, others did not, but all shook their 
 heads, and said, nobody would undertake to publish poetry, 
 or that it was not in their way; some advised him to pub- 
 lish by subscription, but George Rogers did not know a 
 soul in London; others recommended him to try the maga- 
 zines. It was with a heavy heart that he abandoned the 
 idea of publishing his epic, and with it also his fond dream 
 of obtaining a thousand guineas. He had resolved within 
 himself that the moment he received the money, he would 
 go down to Scotland, and rebuild his father's house; and 
 all who knew him should marvel, and hold up their hands, 
 at the fame and fortune of George the Genius. But a 
 hungry man cannot indulge in day-dreams, and his visions 
 by night are an aggravation of his misery; he therefore had 
 to renounce the fond delusion, that he might have bread to 
 eat. His last resource was to try the magazines. His epic 
 was out of the question for them; and he wrote songs, odes, 
 essays, and short tales, on every scrap of paper, and on the 
 back of every letter in his possession. With this bundle of 
 "shreds and patches," he waited upon several magazine 
 publishers. One told him he was overstocked with contri- 
 butions; another, that he might leave the papers, and he 
 should have an answer in two or three weeks. But three 
 weeks was an eternity to a man who had not tasted food 
 for three days. A third said, "he could seldom make room 
 for new contributors poetry was not an article for which 
 lie gave money essays were at a discount, and he only 
 published tales by writers of established reputation." There 
 was one article, however, which pleased him, and he handed 
 George a guinea for it. The tears started into his eyes as
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 23 
 
 he received it he thought he would never be poor again 
 he was as proud of that guinea as if it had been a thousand! 
 It convinced him more and more that he was a genius. I 
 need not tell you how that guinea was husbanded, and how 
 it was doled out; but, although George reckoned that it 
 would purchase two hundred and fifty-two penny loaves, 
 and that that was almost as many as a man need to eat in 
 a twelvemonth, yet the guinea vanished to the last penny 
 before a month went round. 
 
 He had frequently called at the shop of his first patron, 
 the publisher of the magazine; and on one day when he so 
 called 
 
 "Oh, Mr Rogers," said the bookseller, "I have just 
 
 heard of a 'little job which will suit you. Lord L 
 
 wishes me to find him a person to write a pamphlet in 
 defence of the war. You are just the person to do it. 
 Make it pungent and peppery, and it will be five or ten 
 guineas for you, and perhaps the patronage of his lordship; 
 and you know no bookseller will look at genius without 
 patronage." 
 
 A new light broke upon George he discovered why his 
 epic had been rejected. He hurried to his garret. He be- 
 gan the pamphlet with the eagerness of frenzy. It was 
 both peppery and passionate. Before the afternoon of the 
 following day it was completed, and he flew with it to the 
 house of the nobleman. Our genius was hardly, as the 
 reader may suppose, in a fitting garb for the drawing-room 
 or library of a British peer, and the pampered menial who 
 opened the door attempted to dash it back in his face. He, 
 however, neither lacked spirit nor strength, and he forced his 
 way into the lobby. 
 
 " Inform his lordship," said George, "that Mr Rogers has 
 called with the pamphlet in defence of the war!" And h 
 spoke this with an air of consequence and authority. 
 
 The man et genius was ushered into the library of tiio
 
 34 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 literary lord, who, raising liis glass to Ms eye, surveyed 
 him from head to foot with a look partaking of scorn and 
 disgust; and there was no mistaking that its meaning was 
 "Stand back!" At length he desired our author to re- 
 main where he was, and to read his manuscript. The 
 chagrin which he felt at this reception marred the effect of 
 the first two or three sentences, but, as he acquired his self- 
 possession, he read with excellent feeling and emphasis. 
 Every sentence told. "Good! good!" said the peer, rub- 
 bing his hands "that will do! excellent! give me the 
 manuscript!" 
 
 George was stepping boldly forward to the chair of his 
 lordship, when the latter, rising, stretched his arm at its 
 extreme length across the table, and received the manuscript 
 between his finger and thumb, as though he feared contagion 
 from the touch of the author, or fancied that the plague was 
 sewed up between the seams of his threadbare coat. The 
 peer glanced his eye over the title-page, which George had 
 not read "A Defence of the War with France," said he; 
 "by by who! the deuce! George Rogers! who is 
 George Rogers?" 
 
 " I am, your lordship," answered the author. 
 
 "You are! you!" said his lordship, " you the author of 
 the Defence ? Impertinent fool ! had not you the idea from 
 me? Am not I to pay for it? The work is mine!" So 
 saying, he rang the bell, and addressing the servant who 
 entered, added, " Give that gentleman a guinea." 
 
 George withdrew, in rage and bewilderment, and his 
 poverty, not his will, consented to accept the insulting re- 
 muneration. Within two days, he saw at the door of every 
 bookseller a placard with the words "Just published, A 
 DEFENCE OF THE WAE WITH FEANCE, by the Right Hon. 
 
 Lord L ." George compared himself to Esau, who sold 
 
 his birthright for a mess of pottage he had bartered his name, 
 tys fame, and the fruits of his genius, for a paltry guinea.
 
 THE FIKST-FOOT. 25 
 
 He began to be ashamed of the shabbiness of his gar- 
 mentsthe withering meaning of the word clung round 
 him he felt it as a festering sore eating into his very soul, 
 and he appeared but little upon the streets. He had been 
 several weeks without a lodging, and though it was now 
 summer, the winds of heaven afford but a comfortless 
 blanket for the shoulders when the midnight dews fall 
 upon the earth. He had slept for several nights in a hay- 
 field in the suburbs, on the Kent side of the river; and his 
 custom was, to lift a few armfuls aside on a low rick, and 
 laying himself down in the midst of it, gradually placing 
 the hay over his feet, and the rest of his body, until the 
 whole was covered. But the hay season did not last for 
 ever; and one morning, when fast asleep in the middle of 
 the rick, he was roused by a sudden exclamation of mingled 
 horror and astonishment. He looked up, and beside him 
 stood a countryman, with his mouth open, and his eyes 
 gazing wistfully. In his hand he held a hayfork, and on 
 the prongs of the fork was one of the skirts of poor George's 
 coat. He gazed angrily at the countryman, and ruefully 
 at the fragment of his unfortunate coat; and, rising, he 
 drew round the portion of it that remained on his back, to 
 view " the rent the envious hayfork made." 
 
 "By goam ! chap," said the countryman, when he regained 
 his speech, " I have made thee a spencer; but I might have 
 run the fork through thee, and it would have been no blame 
 of mine." 
 
 They were leading the hay from the field, and the genius 
 was deprived of his lodging. It was some nights after this 
 he was wandering in the neighbourhood of Poplar, fainting 
 and exhausted sleeping, starting, dreaming as he dragged 
 his benumbed and wearied limbs along; and, as he was 
 crossing one of the bridges over the canal, he saw one of 
 the long fly-boats, which ply with goods to Birmingham 
 jwxd Manchester, lying below it. Georco climbed over the
 
 26 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 bridge, and dropped into the boat, and finding a quantity of 
 painted sailcloth near the head of it, which was used as a 
 covering for the goods, to protect them from the weather, 
 he. wrapped himself up in it, and lay down to sleep. How 
 long he lay he knew not, for he slept most soundly; and, 
 when he awoke, he felt more refreshed than ho had been 
 for many nights. But he started as he heard the sound of 
 voices near him; and, cautiously withdrawing the canvas 
 from over his face, he beheld that the sun was up; and, to 
 increase his perplexity, fields, trees, and hedges were gliding 
 past him. While he slept, the boatmen had put the horses 
 to the barge, and were now on their passage to Birmingham, 
 and several miles from London; but, though they had passed 
 and repassed the roll of canvas, they saw not, and they sus- 
 pected not, that they "carried Csesar and his fortunes." 
 George speedily comprehended his situation; and extricat- 
 ing his limbs from the folds of the canvas as quietly as ho 
 could, he sprang to his feet, stepped to the side of the boat, 
 and, with a desperate bound, reached the bank of the canal. 
 
 "Holloa!" shouted the astonished boatmen "holloa! 
 \vhat have you been after 1 ?" 
 
 George made no answer, but ran with his utmost speed 
 down the side of the canal. 
 
 "Holloa! stop thief! stop thief!" bellowed the boat- 
 men; and, springing to the ground, they gave chase to the 
 genius. The boys, also, who rode the horses that dragged 
 the boat unlinked them, and joined in the pursuit. It was 
 a noble chase ! But when George found himself pursued, 
 he left the side of the canal, and took to the fields, clearing 
 hedge, ditch, fence, and stone wall, with an agility that would 
 have done credit to a first-rate hunter. The horses were at 
 fault in following his example, and the boys gave up the 
 chase; and when the boatmen had pursued him for the 
 space of half-a-mile, finding they were losing ground at 
 every step, hey returned, panting and breathless, to their 

 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 27 
 
 boat. George, however, slackened his pace but little until 
 he arrived at the Edgeware Eoad, and there he resumed his 
 wonted slow and melancholy saunter, and sorrowfully re- 
 turned towards London. He now, poor fellow, sometimes 
 shut his eyes, to avoid the sight of his own shadow, which 
 he seemed to regard as a caricature of his forlorn person; 
 and, in truth, he now appeared miserably forlorn I had 
 almost said ludicrously so. l^is coat has been already men- 
 tioned, with its wounded elbows, and imagine it now with 
 the skirts which had been torn away with the hayfork, 
 when the author of an epic was nearly forked upon a cart, 
 as he reposed in a bundle of hay imagine now the coat 
 with that skirt awkwardly pinned to it fancy also that the 
 button-holes had become useless, and that all the buttons, 
 save two, had taken leave of his waistcoat his trousers, 
 also, were as smooth at the knees as though they had been 
 glazed and hot-pressed, and they were so bare, so very bare, 
 that the knees could almost be seen through them without 
 spectacles. Imagine, also, that this suit had once been 
 black, and that it had changed colours with the weather, 
 the damp hay, the painted canvas, and the cold earth on 
 which he slept; and add to this a hat, the brim of which 
 was broken, and the crown fallen in with shoes, the soles 
 of which had departed, and the heels involuntarily gone 
 down, as if ready to perform the service of slippers. Ima- 
 gine these things, and you have a personification of George 
 Rogers, as he now wended his weary way towards Lon- 
 don. 
 
 He had reached the head of Oxford Street, and he was 
 standing irresolute whether to go into the city or turn into 
 the Park, to hide himself from the eyes of man, and to lie 
 down in solitude with his misery, when a lady and a gen- 
 tleman crossed the street to where he stood. Their eyes fell 
 upon him the lady started George beheld her, and he 
 started too he felt his heart throb, and a blush burn over
 
 28 TALES OP THE BORDEKS. 
 
 his check. He knew her at the first glance it was the fair 
 stranger his mother's first-foot! He turned round he 
 hurried towards, the Park he was afraid he was ashamed 
 to look behind him. A thousand times had he wished to 
 meet that lady again, and now he had met her, and he fled 
 from her the shame of his habiliments entered his soul. 
 Still he heard footsteps behind him, and he quickened his 
 pace. He had entered the Park, but yet he heard the sound 
 of the footsteps following. 
 
 " Stop, young man !" cried a voice from behind him. But 
 George walked on as though he heard it not. The word 
 " stop ! " was repeated; but, instead of doing so, he was en- 
 deavouring to hurry onward, when, as we have said, one of 
 the shoes which had become slippers, and which, bad before, 
 were now worse from his flight across the ploughed fields, 
 came off, and he was compelled to stop and stoop, to put it 
 again upon his foot, or to leave his shoe behind him. While 
 he stopped, therefore, to get his shoe again upon his foot, the 
 person who followed him came up it was the gentleman 
 whom he had seen with the fair unknown. With difficulty he 
 obtained a promise from George that he would call upon him 
 at his house in Pimlico in the afternoon; and when he found 
 our genius too proud to accept of money, he thrust into the 
 pocket of the memorable skirt, which the hayfork had torn 
 from the parent cloth, all the silver which he had upon his 
 person. 
 
 When the gentleman had left him, George burst into tears. 
 They were tears of pride, of shame, and of agony. 
 
 At length, he took the silver from the pocket of his skirt; 
 he counted it in his hand it amounted to nearly twenty 
 shillings. Twenty shillings will go farther in London than 
 in any city in the world, with those who know how to spend 
 it but much depends upon that. By all the by-ways he 
 could find, George winded his way down to Rosemary Lane, 
 where the "Black and Blue Reviver" worketh miracles,
 
 THE FIRST-FOOT. 29 
 
 and where the children of Israel are its high priests. Within 
 an hour, wonderful was the metamorphosis upon the person 
 of George Eogers. At eleven o'clock he was clothed as a 
 beggar at twelve he was shabby-genteel. The hat in ruins 
 was replaced by one of a newer shape, and that had been 
 brushed and ironed till it was as clear as a looldng-class. 
 The skirtless coat was thrown aside for an olive-coloured one 
 of metropolitan cut, with a velvet collar, and of which, as 
 the Israelite who sold it said, " de glosh was not off." The 
 buttonless vest was laid aside for one of a light colour, and 
 the place of the decayed trousers was supplied by a pair of 
 pure white; yea, his feet were enclosed in sheep-skin shoes, 
 which, he was assured, had never been upon foot before. 
 Such was the change produced upon the outer man of George 
 Rogers through twenty shillings; and, thus arrayed, with a 
 beating and an anxious heart, he proceeded in the afternoon 
 to the home of the beautiful stranger who had been the 
 eventful first-foot in his father's house. As he crossed the 
 Park by the side of the Serpentine, he could not avoid stop- 
 ping to contemplate, perhaps I should say admire, the change 
 that had been wrought upon his person, as it was reflected 
 in the water as in a mirror. When he had arrived at Pim- 
 lico, and been ushered into the house, there was surprise on 
 the face of the gentleman as he surveyed the change that 
 had come over the person of his guest; but in the counte- 
 nance of the young lady there was more of delight than of 
 surprise. When he had sat with them for some time, the 
 gentleman requested that he would favour them with his 
 history and his adventures in London. George did so from 
 the days of his childhood, until the day when the fair lady 
 before him became his mother's first-foot; and he recounted 
 also his adventures and his straggles in London, as we have 
 related them; and, as he spoke, the lady wept. As he con- 
 cluded, he said "And, until this day, I have ever found an 
 expression, which my uncle made in a letter, verified, that
 
 30 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 'the moment the elbows of my coat opened, every door 
 would shut.' " 
 
 " Your uncle !" said the gentleman, eagerly; " who is he 1 
 what is his name ?" 
 
 " He commands a vessel of his own in the merchant ser- 
 vice," replied George, " and his name is John Eogers." 
 
 " John Eogers ! " added the gentleman; " and your father's 
 name?" 
 
 " Richard Rogers," answered George. 
 
 The young lady gazed upon him anxiously, and words 
 seemed leaping to her tongue, when the gentleman prevented 
 her, saying, " Isabel, love, I wish to speak with this young 
 man in private; " and she withdrew. When they were left 
 alone, the gentleman remained silent for a few minutes, at 
 times gazing in the face of George, and again placing his 
 hand upon his brow. At length he said " I know your 
 uncle, and I am desirous of serving you he also will assist 
 you, if you continue to deserve it. But you must give up 
 book-making as a business; and you must not neglect busi- 
 ness for book-making. You understand me. I shall give 
 you a letter to a gentleman in the city, who will take you 
 into his counting-house; and if, at the expiration of three 
 months, I find your conduct has been such as to deserve my 
 approbation, you shall meet me here again." 
 
 He then wrote a letter, which, having sealed, he put, 
 with a purse, into the hands of George, who sat speechless 
 with gratitude and astonishment. 
 
 On the following day, George delivered the letter to the 
 merchant, and was immediately admitted as a clerk into his 
 counting-house. He was ignorant of the name of his uncle's 
 friend; and when he ventured to inquire at the merchant 
 respecting him, he merely told him, he was one whose good 
 opinion he would not advise him to forfeit. In this state of 
 suspense, George laboured day by day at the desk; and al- 
 though he was most diligent, active, and anxious to please,
 
 THE FIKST-FOOT. 31 
 
 yet frequently, when he was running up figures, or making 
 out an invoice, his secret thoughts were of the fair Isabel 
 the daughter of his uncle's friend, and his mother's first-foot. 
 He regretted that he did not inform her father that he was 
 his uncle's heir he might then have been admitted to his 
 house, and daily seen her on whom his thoughts dwelt. His 
 situation was agreeable enough it was paradise to what 
 he had experienced; yet the three months of his probation 
 seemed longer than twelve. 
 
 He had been a few weeks employed in the counting-house, 
 when he received a letter from his parents. His father in- 
 formed him that they had received a letter from his uncle, 
 who was then in London; but, added he, " he has forgotten 
 to gie us his direction, where we may write to him, or where 
 ye may find him." His mother added an important post- 
 script, in which she informed him that " She was sorry she 
 was richt after a', that there wasna luck in a squintin first- 
 foot; for he would mind o' the sailor that brought the letter, 
 that said he was to be his uncle's heir; and now it turned 
 out that his uncle had found an heir o' his am." 
 
 It was the intention of George, when he had read the let- 
 ter, to go to the house of his benefactor, and inquire for his 
 uncle's address, or the name of the ship; but when he re- 
 flected that he might know neither that he was not to re- 
 turn to his house for three months, nor until he was sent for 
 and, above all, when he thought that he was no longer 
 his uncle's heir, and that he now could offer up no plea for 
 looking up to the lovely Isabel he resumed his pen with a 
 stifled sigh, and abandoned the thought of finding out his 
 uncle for the present. 
 
 He had been rather more than ten weeks in the office, 
 when the unknown Isabel entered and inquired for the mer- 
 chant. She smiled upon George as she passed him the 
 smile entered his veiy soul, and the pen shook in his hand. 
 It was drawing towards evening, and the merchant re-
 
 32 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 quested George to accompany the young lady home. Joy 
 and agitation raised a tumult in his breast he seized his 
 hat he offered her his arm but he scarce knew what he 
 did. For half-an-hour he walked by her side without dar- 
 ing or without being able to utter a single word. They en- 
 tered the Park; the lamps were lighted amidst the trees 
 along the Mall, and the young moon shone over them. It 
 was a lovely and an imposing scene, and with it George 
 found a tongue. He dwelt upon the effect of the scenery 
 he quoted passages from his own epic and he spoke of the 
 time when his fair companion was his mother's first-foot. 
 She informed him that she was then hastening to the death- 
 bed of her grandfather, whom she believed to be the only 
 relative that she had in life that she arrived in time to re- 
 ceive his blessing, and that, with his dying breath, he told 
 her her father yet lived and, for the first time, she heard 
 his name, and had found him. George would have asked 
 what that name was, but when he attempted to do so he 
 hesitated, and the question was left unfinished. They spoke 
 of many things, and often they walked in silence; and it 
 was not until the watchman called, " Past nine o'clock," 
 that they seemed to discover that, instead of proceeding to- 
 wards Pimlico, they had been walking backward and for- 
 ward upon the Mall. He accompanied her to her father's 
 door, and left her with his heart filled with unutterable 
 thoughts. 
 
 The three months had not quite expired, when the anxi- 
 ously-looked-for invitation arrived, and George Rogers was 
 to dine at the house of his uncle's friend, the father of the 
 fair Isabel. I shall not describe his feelings as he hastened 
 along the streets towards Pimlico. He arrived at the house, 
 and his hand shook as he reached it to the rapper. The door 
 was opened by a strange-looking footman. George thought 
 that he had seen him before it was indeed a face that, if 
 once seen, was not easily forgotten. The footman had not
 
 THE FIEST-FOOT. 33 
 
 such, large whiskers as Bill Somers, but they were of the 
 same colour, and they certainly were the same eyes that 
 had frightened his mother in the head of her first-foot. He 
 was shown into a room where Isabel and her father waited 
 to receive him. " When I last saw you, sir," said the latter, 
 " you informed me you were the nephew of John Eogers. 
 He finds he has no cause to be ashamed of you. George, 
 my dear fellow, yoiu- uncle Jack gives you his hand ! Isa- 
 bel, welcome your cousin!" 
 
 "My cousin!" cried George. 
 
 "My cousin!" said Isabel. 
 
 What need we say more before the New Year came, 
 they went down to Scotland a wedded pair, to be his mo- 
 ther's first-foot in the farmhouse, which had been rebuilt.
 
 34 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 
 
 IN the year 1310, King Robert Bruce had overcome many 
 of those extraordinary difficulties that threatened to render 
 all the efforts of mere man unavailable in regaining for 
 Scotland that perfect liberty of which she had so long 
 boasted, and which, though it had never been taken from 
 her absolutely, had been, by the unwarrantable schemes 
 and policy of the first Edward, loosened from her grasp, 
 and lay trampled on by the fierce genius of war. Great 
 and wonderful, however, as had already been the prowess 
 and determination of Bruce, and successful beyond the aspi- 
 rations of hope as had been his efforts in the glorious cause 
 of his country's freedom, there was great room for question 
 whether Scotland would even at this period have triumphed, 
 had the sceptre of England not fallen so opportunely into 
 the hands of the second Edward. The first and greatest 
 of all Scotland's foes, the first Edward, had died three 
 years before, at Burgh-upon-Sands, leaving, as Froissart 
 informs us, his dying injunction on his son, to boil his 
 body in a caldron, till the bones should part with the flesh, 
 and to carry the grim relics with him into Scotland, with 
 the condition that they should not be buried till Scotland 
 was subdued. The legacy of dry bones, from which the 
 spirit of the great king had departed, was apparently all of 
 his father that the young Edward inherited; for he soon 
 displayed so much vacillation of policy, and so little genius 
 for war, that, if Providence had intended to work to the 
 hands of Bruce for the salvation of his country, she could 
 not have brought about her designs with greater effect than 
 by g-'ving Bruce as an enemy the young King of England.
 
 THE EOMANCK OF THE SIEGE OF PEKTH. 35 
 
 Things were going straight forward to the result of Ban- 
 nockburn. Bruce had been successful almost everywhere. 
 The clergy at Dundee had declared his right to the throne, 
 and the injustice of the decision that gave Baliol the 
 crown; the nobles, with -the exception of Angus, Buchan, 
 and some others, were in his favour; but, above all, the 
 common people, in whom the true sovereignty of every 
 country lies, had begun to see in their new king those qua- 
 lities that are calculated to move -the heart. The hopes of 
 Brace rose every hour; and, having scattered the forces of 
 the English in every recent encounter, he saw the necessity, 
 and felt the power, of seizing some of the walled towns 
 that Edward had fortified with much care, as if stone and 
 lime could bind the freedom of Scotland. The town of 
 Perth was the one that seemed then of greatest import- 
 ance, as well from its central situation between the High- 
 lands and Lowlands, as from the state of its battlements, 
 which 'were a regular fortification, with strong walls de- 
 fended by high towers, and all surrounded by a broad and 
 deep fosse. 
 
 The town had for some time been under siege, and, 
 being one of those that Edward was determined to hold to 
 the last, was promised succour with the first supplies that 
 should enter the Tay. It was commanded by William 
 Oliphant, an Anglicised Scot, who, with a firmness worthy 
 of a better cause, had resolved to be true to the enemy of 
 his country, and to give up the town only with his life. 
 But his efforts were sorely thwarted by the remissness of 
 Edward in sending provisions, and by the effects of a 
 grievous famine, that, as a consequence of the intestine 
 wars by which the country had been so wofully torn, was 
 desolating the land in every quarter. He had already 
 drained the pockets of the most wealthy of the citizens, by 
 forcing them to supply him with money, by which he con- 
 trived to get in provisions to enable him to hold out against
 
 36 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Brace. Among the rest, a rich burgher from the Lower 
 Provinces, Peter of Ghent (his latter name has not reached 
 us) was expected to lend him a large sum of money. The 
 Fleming was, in those days, what the Scots afterwards 
 became remarkable for the possession of the faculty of 
 prudence the legitimate offspring of the genius of mer- 
 chandise. By the importation of broadcloths and armour 
 gear, he had contrived to realise a large fortune, and was 
 reported by the good men of Perth as one of the wealthiest 
 merchants in the kingdom. He had only one child, a 
 daughter, commonly known by the name of Anne of Ghent, 
 a young creature of great beauty, and, what may appear to 
 have been somewhat remarkable in her station, of a spirit 
 that was deeply imbued with the love of chivalry. But we 
 would form a very inadequate estimate of the charms of 
 that extraordinary power which overturned kingdoms and 
 damsels' hearts wherever its influence was felt, if we were 
 to limit its sphere to the sons and daughters of nobility. Its 
 principles, indeed, are found in every bosom that responds 
 to the sentiments of love and heroism; and from the humble 
 and beautiful Anne of Ghent, up to the noble and heroic 
 Isabella of Buchan, the spirit burned with a fervour that 
 was only in some accounted less strong because no oppor- 
 tunities were afforded for its display. 
 
 It was not in Scotland that this spirit had been first 
 fanned into a flame in the bosom of the fair Fleming, but 
 in France, where the preux chevalier was seen in all his 
 pride and glory. When about sixteen years of age, she had 
 accompanied her father to Flanders, when he resorted thither 
 for the purpose of traffic; and, in order to gratify his 
 daughter, of whom he was justly proud, he had taken her 
 to Paris, to be present at a joust held before Louis IX. 
 The display of arms on that occasion was a trial between 
 Sir Piers Guyard and Sir William Indelgonde, the latter of 
 whom, having defamed the mistress of the former, had been
 
 THE ROMANCE OP THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 37 
 
 compelled, by order of Louis, to prove his assertion by the 
 issue of a mortal combat. The battle ended by the death 
 of Indelgonde; but what possessed greater charms to Anne 
 than the details of the duellum, was the extraordinary 
 Bight she witnessed of twenty untried squires of France, all 
 arrayed in shining coats of armour, with long flowing plumes 
 of various colours on their glittering basnets, taking, ac- 
 cording to the custom of these days, their first oaths, "be- 
 fore the peacock and the ladies," that they would not see 
 with both eyes until they had accomplished some daring 
 deed of arms. The gay bird of gaudy hues was brought 
 into a large pavilion erected at the end of the arena; and, 
 like that before which King Edward I. swore at Westmin- 
 ster when he denounced poor Scotland, was encircled with 
 a thin covering of golden gauze, and placed on a tripod or- 
 namented with many carved devices of chivalry. The 
 squires, one by one, knelt before the bird, and recited their 
 oaths, and then, turning round to the queens of their des- 
 tinies, solicited like mendicants, with one knee on the 
 ground, a silk riband to bind up the orb which was about 
 to be deprived of the fair sight of their charms. Nearly 
 opposite to where Anne sat, a very young chevalier of the 
 name of Eolande of Leon knelt for his eye gear; and though 
 twenty ladies of birth, all anxious that their gifts should be 
 accepted, threw to him ribands of silk, it happened that, 
 whether from chance or from some mysterious sympathy 
 between the hand and eyes of the young mendicant, a nar- 
 row green stripe, that Anne in her enthusiasm tore hurriedly 
 from her head-gear, fell into his willing grasp. When she 
 saw the fluttering trophy in the hands of so comely a youth, 
 she trembled with modest fear; for she knew that, as the 
 daughter of a burgher, rich as he was, she had but a very 
 questionable title to compete- for the honours of chivalry; 
 but, when she saw the riband bound round his head, and 
 the helmet placed upon it, she was ready to faint outright,
 
 38 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 and it was with difficulty that she retained her position on 
 the bench. As soon as the crowd began to move, she 
 hastened away to join her father, who was waiting for 
 her beyond the palisades. Next day she was on her way 
 to Flanders, and shortly afterwards she arrived at the city 
 of Perth. 
 
 Two or three years had now passed since the fair Fle- 
 ming acted the almost involuntary part of a high lady, 
 within the pale of the Theatre de la clievalerie. Living, 
 with the rich old merchant, within the walls of a city de- 
 voted to traffic, she had had few opportunities of witnessing 
 another show of arms. The warriors of Scotland were then 
 holding their jousts in the open fields and thick forests; 
 and, in place of fighting for the smiles of women, were doing 
 battle for the liberties of their ancient and much-abusec 1 
 country. But the rising fame of Bruce, his brother Ed< 
 ward, and Douglas, and Eandolph, claimed her feelings of 
 admiration; and she would have given her rosary itself, 
 with her jewelled cross, to have got a glimpse of men of 
 whom all the ladies of Christendom were enamoured. She 
 often pictured to herself, as she sat in her small parlour 
 that fronted the city wall, their forms firmly girt with their 
 shining armour; but a visor was never lifted up to the eye 
 of her fancy without revealing the feature of Kolande, as 
 she saw him kneeling at her feet for the gift he solicited 
 and obtained. The face had been deeply imprinted in her 
 memory, and the encircling gift which she had bestowed, 
 seemed to connect her by some indefinable tie with one 
 whom she might never see again, but of whom she could 
 never cease to think. His elegant and manly form, which 
 displayed all the graces of the accomplished man-at-arms, 
 mixed itself with all her thoughts, and her greatest delight 
 was to prefigure to herself the appearance, on some occasion, 
 of that same warrior, with his left eye bound by the badge 
 she had given him, and a declaration on his tongue, as he
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF MJliTR. 39 
 
 knelt before her, that she had the sole power of restoring 
 him full-orbed to the light, which he might now claim as 
 the reward of his prowess. 
 
 Anne was thus one evening indulging in some of these 
 reveries of a love-sick brain, when Peter of Ghent entered 
 the room. He was dressed in his Sunday's suit, with his 
 ample surcoat of the best broadcloth, girt round the waist 
 with a leather belt, his broad slouched hat of felt, and 
 boots of the old Flemish style turned down at the tops, 
 forming altogether a favourable contrast with the roughly- 
 clad people of those early times, when the rough hats, coarse 
 jerkins, and untanned shoes, constituted the apparel of Scot- 
 land's sons. Anne looked up, and a slight feeling of sur- 
 prise passed through her mind as she noticed him thus ar- 
 rayed. 
 
 " The town is still in great danger, Anne," said he, as he 
 took a seat by her side, at the fire of blazing faggots, that 
 threw a bright glare over the beautiful face of his daughter. 
 " The enemies of Edward seem to be on the increase. Dun- 
 dee has surrendered, the whole of Galloway has been 
 ravaged, and Bruce, become bolder by his success, lies look- 
 ing on our good town, as the wolves of Atholl look on the 
 sheepfold in the glen." 
 
 "If there had been lions in these parts, father," answered 
 Anne, " I might have heard from thee a comparison more 
 suitable to the qualities of that brave soldier." 
 
 "These words, Anne," replied Peter, "but ill become a 
 liege woman of King Edward. This poor countiy cannot 
 thrive without the protecting power of England, where 
 more broadcloths are disposed of in one year than Scotland 
 uses in ten. The limbs of the sturdy hills and dales men 
 seem to spurn all modes of human comfort; yet verily the 
 love of ease and warmth to the body is the parent of all 
 arts and improvement; and until that begins to be felt, we 
 can have no hope of Scotland."
 
 40 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 Anne looked up, and smiled at this professional allusion 
 to the source of her father's wealth. 
 
 "But I need not so speak to the pretty Anne," he added, 
 returning her smile ; for I know that thou hast the 
 fashionable womanish aifection of these times for steel, as 
 the commodity of man's apparel ; and thereto appertaineth 
 the subj ect of which I came to speak to thee. Our gover- 
 nor, William Oliphant who, though a Scotchman, is as 
 true an adherent of Edward as ever fought under the 
 banner-borne bones of his father wanteth a thousand 
 Flemish nobles, to enable him to get provisions for our 
 citizens from a Dutch galley in the Tay ; and whomshould 
 he apply to for it but Peter of Ghent, who is looked upon 
 as being the richest man of Perth ? " 
 
 " And wilt thou give it him, father?" said Anne. "Of 
 a surety, thou wilt lose it, if thou dost; for, were Perth as 
 strong as Eoxburgh, which, they say, is the strongest hold 
 of these parts, it would not stand against such a warrior as 
 Robert Bruce; and where wilt thou get thy money again, if 
 the town falls into the hands of the Scots ? " 
 
 " That is a good point of argument for a woman, love," 
 replied Peter. " I fear for the old town myself; for they 
 tell me that Brace's fame has brought to his blue banner 
 three French knights, with their left eyes bound up by 
 ladies' favours, who deem that their feats of arms in an 
 escalade of Perth may restore to them their sight. Doubt- 
 less they will fight like lions or devils; but seest thou not, 
 that, whether I give the money or not, the town may fall, 
 and all I have in the world may be wrenched from me by 
 these naked caterans, to whom a single merk, albeit it were 
 clipped to the dimensions of King David's bodies, would bo 
 a fortune ? " 
 
 Anne was silent. The mention of the monoculous 
 knights of France had driven merks and all other moneys 
 from her mind, and she would have rejoiced to have seen
 
 THE ROMANCE OP THE SIEGE OF P!JTH. 41 
 
 Perth taken upon the instant, provided always that she 
 were taken with it. But Peter understood not her ab- 
 sence of mind, and resumed his argument, on the assump- 
 tion that Anne was listening with all due attention to his 
 scheme. 
 
 "But Peter of Ghent," he again said, "never gave a 
 silver piece, or a woollen piece either, for nothing; and, if 
 my dutiful Anne will enter into my scheme, she may have 
 for her consort no less a man than William Oliphant him- 
 self, the Governor of Perth, and her wedding-dress shall be 
 of the best silks of Nismes, the richest gloves of Grenoble, 
 and sandals from the fair of Bocaire." 
 
 This announcement of some cunning purpose of her 
 father filled Anne with alarm. Oliphant, a dissolute man, 
 had been sometimes in the habit of calling at the house, 
 and she had often thought that she herself was the object 
 of his attraction. Her father, by mentioning the French 
 knights that fought under the banner of Bruce, had raised 
 a hope that her chevalier of the green riband was among 
 them, and now he had caused an alarm that might have 
 been read in her countenance. 
 
 "William Oliphant, the Governor of Perth," she replied, 
 as she held down her face towards the blazing faggots, 
 " will not surely stoop to marry the daughter of a Flemish 
 merchant." 
 
 " Money will make any man stoop, fair Anne," replied 
 Peter. "I have heard the back armour of the bravest 
 knight of the lists crack with the bow to Mammon, as loud 
 as when he knelt to the peacock. A merchant knows the 
 science of provisos, and conditions, and stipulations, and 
 never a Scotch plack will William Oliphant get from Peter 
 of Ghent, but upon the condition that he wed my Anne, 
 when the town is saved from the arms of Bruce and his 
 blind knights, and the promised succours shall arrive from 
 England. By Saint Dennis, we may have a jolly wedding
 
 42 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 in the midst of our jubilee of liberation. What sayest, my 
 love?" 
 
 Anne still hung down her head. She feared to oppose 
 her father, who was indulgent to her, and had hitherto 
 prided himself on her obedience. She was, besides, over- 
 come with the conflicting thoughts that had been so sud- 
 denly raised in her mind by the mention of the French 
 knights, and of this new purpose of her father, that seemed 
 to destroy all the hopes she still entertained of one day en- 
 joying the affections of the man who had first produced an 
 effect upon her heart. A deep sigh escaped from her, and 
 roused her father's suspicions of the cause of her silence. 
 
 "Speak, Anne," he said; "thou hast already captivated 
 the governor by thy beauty, and my money will do the 
 rest. He will be knighted by Edward, if he beat off the 
 Bruce; and my daughter will be a lady." 
 
 " William Oliphant is not a man according to my heart, 
 father," answered she, at last, with a trembling heart; "but 
 might I be absolved from my engagement to many him, if 
 the town falls before the arms of the Scots'? " she added, as 
 she looked modestly and fearfully into his face. 
 
 "Most certainly, love," replied Peter; "and, moreover, 
 thou shalt not be bound to Oliphant personally, for it is I 
 that must make the condition that he will marry thee, in 
 consideration of the loan I gave him for the good old 
 town." 
 
 Well pleased with the dutiful answer he had got from 
 his daughter, the worthy man of traffic sallied forth to 
 meet, by special appointment, the governor, who anxiously 
 waited for him in his residence. After he had gone forth, 
 Anne bethought herself of what her fear of offending her 
 father had wrung from her. Though timid from love and 
 duty, she was of a noble spirit, and upheld her heart, as it 
 recoiled from the thought of becoming the wife of a man 
 she hated, by revolving in, her mind the chances of the
 
 THE ROMANCE OP THE SIEGE OF PEETH. 43 
 
 gallant Scots forcing the town to surrender, and relieving 
 her from her qualified obligation. She wished all success 
 to the chivalrous Bruce, because she loved the character 
 of him, and the great and enthusiastic spirits who were 
 struggling for freedom; but she was filled with a high 
 swelling hope, that burned in her bright eye, and heaved 
 her bosom, that her chosen knight of the lists was among 
 the three Frenchmen, who were undergoing their probation 
 for the honours of chivalry. At that moment, her lover 
 was in all probability at a very short distance from her 
 her lady-gift still bound the flowing hair of dark auburn 
 she had seen and admired, as it escaped from beneath his 
 helm; her power was still exercised in occluding one of the 
 darkest and most brilliant eyes that ever peered through 
 the warrior's visor, and the thought of her then sitting and 
 dreaming of him was perhaps occupying his mind, and fill- 
 ing his heart. Then rose the thrilling thought, that, ere 
 another week passed over, her own hands might be required 
 to unbind the pledge, and the light of the eye that had so 
 long been hid from the sun, might first be thrown upon the 
 face of her who bound it. The hazards of a siege were 
 despised by her bold spirit, as it contemplated these glow- 
 ing visions. She feared nothing for either herself or her 
 father from men who, while they fought like lions for their 
 country's liberty, were actuated by the high and noble 
 spirit of chivalry. Possessing that confidence in the gene- 
 rosity of noble hearts which seems to be natural to lovely 
 women, she would throw herself on the protection of Brace 
 himself; claiming that, she could defy all danger, from 
 whatever quarter it might come; and her request for safety 
 to her father would be as successful as her petition for 
 herself. In the siege and capture of the town, her best 
 and dearest interests were involved; for she would con- 
 template the success of great men fighting in a cause she 
 loved, she would have the chance of meeting her lover,
 
 44 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 and she had the certainty of escaping the licentious Oli- 
 phant, who could not claim her, in the event of losing his 
 treacherous cause in fighting against his country. The 
 sounds of the clang of arms of the assailants would at that 
 moment have been the sweetest sound she ever heard; and 
 she drew deep sighs, as she contemplated the chances of 
 their triumph. 
 
 Unconscious of the thoughts that were revolving in the 
 excited mind of his daughter, Peter of Ghent walked along 
 the streets of Perth, till he came to the residence of the 
 governor. His mind was too much occupied on the sub- 
 ject of his diplomatic undertaking to allow him to notice 
 the gazing burghers, who, from their windows, stared at 
 the rich Fleming, and suspected that the object of his 
 expedition was in some way connected with the perilous 
 state of the town. He found the governor waiting for him; 
 and, having made his bow, was soon seated by the official's 
 fire. 
 
 " Well, Peter of Ghent," began Oliphant, " hast thou be- 
 thought thyself of my request to give me the thousand 
 nobles that are required for the support of the town against 
 the arms of the Bruce, whose head deserveth a spear, along- 
 side of that which upholdeth Wallace's on London Bridge, 
 or whose body meriteth a cage, alongside of the Countess 
 of Buchan's crib, in the Castle of Berwick. What sayest 
 thou?" 
 
 "The sum thou mentionest, Sir Governor," replied the 
 cunning burgher, "hath been laid apart for the tocher of 
 Anne, who meriteth well of the good consideration thou 
 hast bestowed on her.. The marriage dower is a sacred 
 gift. Dost thou think as well of her now as formerly ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, Peter of Ghent, I do," replied Oliphant, who 
 probably saw some obscure connection between Peter's sen- 
 tences which the words themselves scarcely supplied. "No 
 man with a heart could see that maiden once, and forgot
 
 THE KOMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 46 
 
 her ever. Less beautiful women have been the cause of 
 the meeting of bleeding heads and sawdust; and thou wilt 
 not be far beyond the Saracen's head of thy suspicion, if 
 thou deemest me a lover of fair Anne of Ghent." 
 
 " That I have had a fair cause to suspect," said Peter; 
 " and I am well entitled to opine that Anne would give her 
 consent to my paying the sum required of me, upon the 
 consideration that it was merely a species of foreinstalment 
 of dowery, given for the double purpose of saving the town 
 and securing a governor of her heart. A man that can de- 
 fend, so nobly as you have done, a walled city, could keep 
 a woman's heart in good discipline." 
 
 "A right fair point of dialects, Peter of Ghent," replied 
 Oliphant; "but we had better speak of concernments of 
 love after the city is saved. Let us have the nobles in the 
 meanwhile, and we will discuss the merits of the fair Anne, 
 when we have time and leisure to appreciate the qualities 
 of womankind." 
 
 " Well and veritably indited," said Peter; " but it would 
 lubricate and facilitate the gaining of Anne's consent to 
 the payment of this money, if I could report to her that it 
 was to be paid as a matrimonial propine to the man she 
 loveth; and, to be honest, I cannot, of a truth, pay it, but 
 upon that stipulation." 
 
 "And, by the honour of a governor! I am well pleased 
 to think that I am thus estimated by so fair a creature. 
 Let us have the money; and, if all goes well with the town, 
 I shall look for a second tocher, of another thousand, with 
 the hand of thy daughter." 
 
 " Concluded, Sir Governor," cried Peter, hi ecstasy. 
 
 And the two sat down to finish, over a bottle of Bur- 
 gundy, the details of a bargain which, on one side, was, at 
 least, sincere; but on the other, was deemed, by those who 
 knew the faithless character of the man, of, at least, dubioui 
 faith, Whatever sincerity, however, was felt and exhibited
 
 46 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 by Peter, in so far as concerned the governor, it was very 
 clear that he had acted a part of true mercantile subtlety, 
 in so far as regarded the interests of his fair daughter. 
 Meanwhile, the money was paid, and extraordinary efforts 
 were made by Oliphant to get foraging parties sent abroad, 
 to procure, for the inhabitants, the necessary supplies. The 
 motions of these troops, as well as those of the besiegers, 
 were regularly noticed by Anne from a part of the wall to 
 which she had access from her father's house. Her interest 
 in the issue of the impending strife was the greatest that 
 could be felt by woman; for it involved the dearest rights 
 of her sex. Bound to Oliphant only in the event of his 
 /success, his defeat might bring to her the object of her af- 
 fections, and she looked for every demonstration of activity 
 on the part of Bruce as a sign of her coming liberation. 
 
 During these watchful operations of the fair Fleming, the 
 soldiers of Brace remained steady at their post, where they 
 had already been for five weeks, endeavouring to prevent 
 any supplies from being sent into the town. Their numbers 
 as yet, however, were so few, and the fortifications of Perth 
 so extensive, that a considerable portion of the ground sur- 
 rounding the town was left under the surveillance of a species 
 of riding patrole, which the indefatigable endeavours of 
 Oliphant sometimes succeeded in enabling the purveyors to 
 elude. A like good fortune did not attend some of those 
 sent to turn the merks of Peter of Ghent into edibles; for 
 several foragers were intercepted in their passage from the 
 country to the besieged city. One of these a person called 
 Giles Mortimer was taken before Bruce, and examined as 
 to the state of the town's provisions. 
 
 "Well, sirrah, are these rebels still determined to hold 
 out?" said the king. 
 
 " There are many murmurs in the town, sire," replied the 
 man; "and were it not, as fame reporteth, that a rich 
 citizen hath given the governor a thousand Flemish nobles,
 
 THE ROMANCE OP THE SIEGE OP PERTH. 47 
 
 on condition that he marry his daughter, I do believe tkat 
 not another noble would have been wrung from any one ia 
 the whole city." 
 
 "And what is the name of this rich citizen?" said Bruce. 
 
 " How could it be any other than Peter of Ghent? " said 
 the man, with a smile; "for ia he not the richest citizen 
 tf Perth?" 
 
 "We have heard of this same Peter of Ghent," said 
 Sruce; "and, by our crown, we should not be ill pleased to 
 be present at the wedding of his daughter. We have some 
 French knights here, who would dance merrily, in honour 
 of the fair bride. What is her name?" 
 
 "Anne of Ghent she is called," replied the man; "and, 
 by'r lady, she might, for the matter of beauty, be the wife 
 of a king." 
 
 "And when is the wedding to be?" rejoined Bruce. 
 
 "When the governor can declare the town to be safe 
 from the Bruce," replied the man. 
 
 " And that will be when the hares in the pass of Ben 
 Cruachan are safe from the wolves of Lorn," replied Bruce, 
 laughing, and looking around to his chiefs. "Now, look 
 around you, sir, at these warriors, and after thou hast made 
 a gauge of their numbers, and learned that every castle we 
 have yet attempted hath fallen before us, go and tell Wil- 
 liam Oliphant that we intend to be present at his wedding 
 with the fair Anne of Ghent, and cannot think of waiting 
 either for the succours of King Edward, or for our own de- 
 feat. Hie thee on our message, sirrah." 
 
 The man was accordingly liberated; and Bruce, during 
 that same day, having resolved to perform by stmtagem what 
 seemed to be impossible by the fair play of arms, took with 
 him Sir James Douglas, and went to reconnoitre. Great 
 and even marvellous as was tke courage of these far-famed 
 assertors of their country's freedom, it may be doubted 
 whether their genius for daring and successful stratagem
 
 48 TALES OP THE BOKDEES. 
 
 did not excel the chivalrous spirit of fair-fighting by which 
 they were actuated to perform deeds of arms that have 
 made the whole world ring with their fame. The capture 
 of the peel or castle of Linlithgow, and that of Edinburgh, 
 afterwards performed, were the most cunningly-devised 
 pieces of military stratagem that had ever been witnessed; 
 and the work of old Polysenus on the warlike acts of the 
 strategists of Greece exhibits nothing that can be compared 
 to them. Bruce had already exhibited this talent for schem- 
 ing, in the affairs of London Hill and Cruachan Ben; but 
 his powers in this respect were yet to be developed on a 
 grander scale, and as it were by gradation, till the final 
 triumph of Bannockburn should establish his fame for ever. 
 The capture of Perth was one of those intermediate and 
 probationary trials that were fitting the great master for 
 that final and glorious display of all his talents for war; 
 but, small as it was in comparison of what followed, it ex- 
 hibited perhaps as much of his peculiar genius as had yet 
 been shown. Accompanied by Sir James, he went, during 
 the hours of twilight, up to the margin of the fosse. 
 
 "We must know the depth cf this miniature Styx," he 
 said to his companion. 
 
 "But we have no measuring-rods," replied Sir James. 
 
 " By thine own St Bride ! we have though," replied Bruce, 
 smiling. " I am six feet two inches in height." And, in an 
 instant, he was up to the neck in the water; proceeding 
 forward he reached the bottom of the wall, and satisfied 
 himself that all the tall men of his army might make their 
 way through the ditch without incurring the danger of being 
 drowned. Having ascertained this, he returned to the camp, 
 and having provided himself and his companion (for he 
 avoided any show of men) with scaling-ladders of ropes, 
 they again sallied forth under the shade of the increasing 
 darkness, and reached the spot that had already been tested. 
 With one of the ladders in his hand, he again plunged into
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PEETH. 49 
 
 the water, and made a signal for Sir James to follow; but 
 the knight wanted full two inches of the height of the king, 
 and hesitated a moment, from a well-grounded suspicion 
 that he would be overwhelmed. But shame mastered his 
 scruples, and in an instant he was alongside of the king, 
 who, however, required to seize and sustain him, to prevent 
 his being taken off his feet by the power of the water, that 
 was almost on a level with his lips. They paused a mo- 
 ment in this position, to listen if there were any sounds of 
 stir on the walls, and, perceiving all quiet, they proceeded, 
 and reached the bottom of the fortification. Sir James 
 stood close to the wall, and Bruce, by the aid of some jut- 
 ting stones, mounted upon his shoulders, remarking, with a 
 quaint humour, that the knight required some weight to be 
 placed upon him, to enable him to keep his erect position. 
 In this strange attitude the king contrived to throw up and 
 fix the ladders to the top of the first bartizan of the wall, 
 and having tugged them with all his force, to ascertain their 
 steadfastness, he came down, and was about to retrace his 
 steps, when Sir James, who disdained to be behind even his 
 king in feats of daring, seized the end of one of the ladders, 
 and, mounting up, looked calmly over the top of the wall, 
 and satisfied himself of two things first, that the ladders 
 were properly fixed; and, second, that their daring act had 
 not been observed. Having descended, he was again laid 
 hold of by the king; and they reached the bank, where they 
 deliberately shook the water off them after the manner of 
 water-spaniels, and returned to the camp. 
 
 Some of the heads of the army were informed of what had 
 been done, and, next morning, after all the inhabitants of 
 the town were astir, the clarion was sounded, loud and long, 
 as if the city had been upon the instant to be attacked. The 
 tents were struck; but, in place of an attack, a retreat was 
 the order of the day, and in the course of an hour the whole 
 Scottish host were beyond the sight of the inhabitants of 
 
 B2
 
 60 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Perth. The intelligence was soon therefore circulated within 
 the city, that Bruce had given up the siege, and had de- 
 parted upon some expedition of less difficulty; and the 
 friends of Edward rejoiced that they were liberated from so 
 fearful a foe. The communication was received by many 
 with great rejoicings; and a courier, who arrived that same 
 day from England, announced that Edward had despatched 
 succours to the city, which would arrive in the Tay nearly 
 as soon as the messenger would reach the end of his journey. 
 To Peter of Ghent, this change of circumstances was the 
 apparent prelude to the honours he expected to be showered 
 upon his daughter; but Anne herself, dreaming still of her 
 monoculous knight, and of her anticipated delivery by the 
 champions she desired so ardently to see, looked forward 
 with fear and trembling to the sacrifice that seemed to await 
 her. Her watching at the city walls had been persevered 
 in; but all her care and perspicacity had not enabled her to 
 perceive the strange act of Bruce in suspending the ladder 
 before sounding a retreat. The guarding of the walls was 
 in some degree relaxed, and the inhabitants began again to 
 go forth, and engage in their avocations. About three days 
 afterwards, the handmaid of the fair Fleming, who was in 
 the secret of her mistress, informed her that, as she returned 
 from a meeting near the fortifications with her lover, a sol- 
 dier, she had observed the top of a rope-ladder affixed to the 
 lower bartizan of the west wall; but the girl's information 
 ended with the announcement of the fact, for her simple 
 mind had suggested no explanation of the circumstance. 
 But to Anne's quick thought the communication presented 
 an aspect pregnant of hope; and, having cautioned the mai- 
 den against speaking of what she had seen to any of the 
 inhabitants, she sallied forth in the light of the moon, and 
 by the directions of her informant soon came to the spot 
 where the ladder was suspended. A train of reflections 
 opened up to her the scheme of Bruce, who had, as she
 
 ?HE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PEP.TH. 51 
 
 thought, raised the siege, to lull the inhabitants in to a <.:: ra- 
 rity which he might turn to his advantage. By some bold 
 efforts, she reached the part of the wall to which the instru- 
 ment of escalade was attached, and, in the height of her en- 
 thusiasm,- she took from her dress a narrow riband, and 
 bound it to the top of the ropes. 
 
 " The design of these bold spirits," she said, " shall not 
 lack the inspiring gift of a -woman to hail, as that favour 
 streameth in the wind, the success of the cause that giveth 
 freedom to their country. If Rolande de Leon may not see 
 this, the eyes of Bruce, that are unbound, may catch a sight 
 of the trophy; and what better evidence may he have that 
 Anne of Ghent wisheth him triumph?" 
 
 After indulging in her short monologue, she retreated from 
 the wall, and with some difficulty escaped the eyes of some of 
 the neighbouring guards, as she sought with quick steps the 
 house of her father. As she entered, Peter of Ghent looked 
 at her as if he would have questioned her as to where she 
 had been at so late an hour; but his mind was too much 
 occupied by matters of greater moment. 
 
 " Welcome, my love," said he to her, as she sat down by 
 the fire. " I have been with the governor, who is full of 
 rejoicing at this unexpected quittance of the Bruce and 
 his host of wolves. The period of the fulfilment of our 
 condition approaches. The succours of Edward are ex- 
 pected every hour; and then, Anne, I have a right to claim 
 for thee a lord, who is worthy of thy beauty and thy good- 
 ness." 
 
 "The Bruce may return, father," replied Anne. "It ia 
 not thus that he resigns his prey." 
 
 " That is nothing to thee or to me, Anne," said Peter, 
 somewhat roused. "A knighthood will be the more sure to 
 the governor; and I should like as well to see that honour 
 bestowed on thy husband as on thy betrothed. Get ready 
 thy marriage-gear, love, and lay aside thy maiden blushes,
 
 62 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 which can aid thee as little in capturing a husband, as 
 Bruce's backwardness in the taking of Perth." 
 
 "The governor hath not claimed me, father," replied 
 Anne, hesitatingly. "He hath not called here since the 
 money was paid to him." 
 
 "More still of thy doubtful questionings, wench!" cried 
 Peter, rising in his anger. " What is his remiss-ness to thee, 
 if I adhere to my condition, and demand my bond ? He is 
 bound by his honour; to-morrow he is to be here, and thou 
 must show thy fairest qualities in his presence. Go and 
 assign thee thy appurtenances and paraphernals." 
 
 Anne rose silently and left the room; but it was not to 
 obey her father. Her mind was occupied with meditations 
 on the chances of the return of Bruce, upon which her 
 safety from the arms of Oliphant, and her hope of meeting 
 her French knight, depended. Her calculations of the pro- 
 bability of that event were but the operations of her own 
 unaided mind, and misgivings, ushering in painful fears, 
 vindicated a place in her thoughts, and made her alter- 
 nately the victim of hope and apprehension. She could 
 not retire to rest, and her devotions before the Holy Virgin 
 were performed with a fluttering heart, that shook off the 
 holy feelings with which she was accustomed to kneel be- 
 fore the sacred image. The moon still shone bright in at 
 the window, and the stillness that reigned within the house 
 told her that the inmates had retired to rest. She felt a 
 strong inclination to go forth, and find that relief which is 
 often experienced by troubled spirits, in the calm beams of 
 the queen of night; and, wrapping around her a mantle, 
 she obeyed the impulse of her feelings. A large garden 
 nearly connected the house with a part of the fortifications; 
 and, having perambulated the open space, she sauntered 
 along till she came to an embrasure, at which she set her- 
 self down, and fixed her eyes on the surrounding ground, 
 where she had formerly seen a part of Bruce's besieging
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PEETH. 63 
 
 forces. She could perceive nothing now but the wide plain 
 spread forth in the silver light of the moon, and below her 
 feet the deep fosse which reflected the bright beams from 
 its quiet surface. The wind was hushed, and an unbroken 
 silence seemed to reign throughout all nature. A deep 
 train of meditations took possession of her mind; and the 
 sublimed feelings that were called forth by the still and 
 solemn silence around her, mixed with and lent an influence 
 to the thoughts that were ever and anon busy with the 
 hopes that had not yet forsaken her breast. As she sat thus 
 meditating, she thought she observed a dark mass of some 
 moving body upon the plain beyond; and, as she gazed, her 
 attention became more and more fixed upon the extraor- 
 dinary appearance. 
 
 In a short time, the dense mass became more perceptible, 
 and she could now distinguish that it was composed of a 
 body of men, whose motion forward was so noiseless that 
 scarcely a single sound met her ear. There was a small 
 body somewhat in advance of the rest, and she now saw 
 that the direction which they held was towards the spot 
 where she had seen the instrument of escalade fixed to the 
 wall. Rising hurriedly, she crept along by the covered way, 
 and was surprised to find that her passage was not inter- 
 rupted by a single guard, the men having, in consequence 
 of the fatigue to which they had been exposed for five 
 weeks, taken advantage of Brucc's retreat, and betaken 
 themselves to rest. She soon arrived at the spot, and about 
 the same time she observed that the van she had noticed 
 had also got to that part of the fosse opposite to where she 
 was now placed. The silence enabled her now to catch the 
 low tones of the men; and the coruscations of their steel 
 armour, as the moonbeams played upon it, met her eye. 
 She hesitated a moment whether she would remain or re- 
 treat;- for the terrors of a siege were before her, and her 
 father was in danger; but she felt that her own freedom
 
 54 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 from a hated union depended upon the success of the be- 
 siegers, and the workings of an enthusiastic spirit stilled 
 the whisperings of fear. She bent and listened, for articu- 
 late sentences now rose from the warriors, who stood for a 
 moment on the brink of the fosse. A gigantic individual, 
 in full mail, stood in the midst of the group, and he could 
 be no other than Bruce himself, whose height exceeded that 
 of most men of his day. 
 
 "Art ready?" said he, as he held forth his spear, the 
 point of which glittered in the moonbeams, as he waved it. 
 
 "Ay on, noble king!" was responded by another be- 
 hind him. 
 
 " Come on, then," again said the former, and immediately 
 he dashed into the water, which seemed to cover his body 
 to the head. 
 
 Some of the others appeared to hesitate for a moment. 
 
 " What shall we say of our French lords," cried another, 
 in a French accent, "who live at home in the midst of was- 
 sail and jollity, when so brave a knight is here putting his 
 lifo in hazard to win a hamlet?" And he was the second 
 that followed the Bruce. 
 
 " Shall a Frenchman, who hath not yet redeemed the 
 sight of his left eye, bound by a lady's pledge, be the second 
 to mount the wall," was said by a third, as he rushed for- 
 ward. In an instant the whole party were in the water. 
 
 Bruce was now on the ladder. He stopped suddenly, and 
 gazed for a moment at the riband on the top of the esca- 
 lade. Anne's voice met his ear. 
 
 " Come on, come on, brave warriors," she said, in a low tone. 
 
 "Who art thou, in Heaven's name?" replied he. 
 
 " Anne of Ghent, thy friend. The guard is asleep, and 
 the governor deemeth thee far away. I claim indemnity in 
 life and limb to Peter of Ghent." 
 
 "Granted, noble damsel, by the sword of Bruce!" was 
 the answer; "away away ! to a place of safety."
 
 THE ROMANCE OP THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 55 
 
 Anne lost no time in obeying the command. She flew 
 along the covered way with the quickness of light. In her 
 speed she stumbled on the feet of a soldier who lay in a re- 
 cess of the ramparts, and was almost precipitated to the 
 ground. The man looked up in agitation, and, seeing that 
 it was a woman, growled out a few incoherent sentences, 
 and again resigned himself to sleep, from which he might 
 awake only to feel the sharp steel of a Scotch dagger, as it 
 sought his heart. She paused a little, to satisfy herself 
 that the man was not sufficiently roused to hear the sounds 
 of the assailants, and, finding all safe, she sought hurriedly 
 the dwelling of her father. He was sound asleep when she 
 entered, and there was no one stirring; but the sounds of 
 horns were now ringing through the city, and, as she opened 
 the door of his sleeping-apartment, the clamour roused him. 
 Starting to his feet, he called out to Anne to know the cause 
 of the disturbance. 
 
 " The Bruce is in the act of storming the city, father," 
 she said. 
 
 " Then are the dreams of my ambition finished," replied 
 Peter; " and we shall be the marks for the vengeance of 
 these savages. I have no chance of escape. My money is 
 gone, and the reward that will be given for it will be death." 
 
 " Fear not, father," said Anne, calmly; " thou art safe." 
 
 "Peter of Ghent," replied he, "who hath furnished money 
 for the support of the city, will be among the first objects 
 of the vengeance of the Bruce. Ha ! I hear already the 
 groans of the dying. Whither shall I fly, or where shall I 
 conceal myself?" 
 
 "Thou canst be safe only in this house," said Anne. "The 
 Bruce hath, by his sword, pledged his faith to me that Peter 
 of Ghent shall be safe in life and limb." 
 
 "What meaneth the damsel's strange words?" cried the 
 father. "Art thou mad? Where couldst thou have seu 
 the Bruce?"
 
 56 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Concern not thyself for that, father," replied she, with 
 the same unperturbed air. "Thou art safe. The Bruce 
 hath said it." 
 
 Peter looked at his daughter in blank wonder; and, as 
 the sounds of horns, the clashing of swords, and the screams 
 of the dying met his ear, he trembled and seemed irresolute 
 whether he should repose faith in her words, or take means 
 for his safety. A loud noise now approached the house; the 
 door was burst open, and three naked caterans entered the 
 apartment, with bloodstained swords gleaming in their 
 hands. One of them rushed forwards, and, seizing Peter, 
 was on the point of thrusting the weapon into his bosom. 
 
 " He is safe by the word of the Bruce," ejaculated Anne, 
 as she rushed between the soldier and her father. 
 
 " His name, then?" cried one of the soldiers behind. 
 
 " Peter of Ghent," answered Anne. 
 
 The sword of the soldier was dropped in an instant. 
 
 " To pe sure he will pe safe if that pe his name," said the 
 man, with a grim smile. " Te prince has said it. Here, 
 Tuncan, guard this maiden and her father, while I and 
 Tonald will pe after sending te neebours to their lang hames." 
 
 With these words the two caterans left the house, and 
 joined the other soldiers who were careering through the 
 city, and slaying every Anglicised Scot that came in their 
 way. The guard Duncan remained in Peter's house, and 
 sat with grim majesty, surveying in silence the terrified 
 Fleming, who was lost in wonder at what he had seen and 
 heard; for everything appeared to him a mystery. Others 
 of the soldiers burst at intervals into the house, with the 
 intent to slay the inmates; but Duncan silenced them all 
 by the watchword, " Peter of Ghent," and at every demon- 
 stration of the charm the worthy burgher seemed more and 
 more surprised. He questioned Anne as to the meaning of 
 the strange effect of his name and of the unlooked-for secu- 
 rity that it afforded to him who deserved death more than
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 57 
 
 any one in the city, except the governor himself. But he 
 got small satisfaction from the maiden, for she felt that it 
 was impossible for her to explain the part she acted, with- 
 out incurring the charge that she had been untrue to the 
 cause of her father, and the rights of the governor and the 
 king. Neither would Duncan give him any information 
 but what tended rather to increase the mystery; for he 
 'merely said that it was the command of the Bruce that 
 Peter of Ghent should be saved from the general massacre, 
 and guarded safely from the fury of the soldiers by the first 
 man that entered his house. In the midst of this mystery, 
 a suspicion took possession of him, that Bruce wished to 
 save him for a more cruel death, after the siege should be 
 ended; and, notwithstanding of all that Anne could say to 
 him to calm his fears, he still retained doggedly the appre- 
 hension, and sighed bitterly as he contemplated his expected 
 fate. 
 
 " Thou hast given me no reason, girl," he whispered to 
 her, "to satisfy me that I am not reserved for the heading- 
 block. Bruce hath, of a verity, heard of the money I lent 
 to the governor, and thou shalt by and by mourn the death 
 of thy father. But what didst thou mean, Anne, by thy 
 statement to the soldier, that I was safe by the word of the 
 Brace 1 Was it a device of thy quick fancy to save me 
 from the sword of that man, who weareth no broadcloth on 
 his body, and whose limbs are, of a consequence, as hard as 
 his heart?" 
 
 "If thou wilt stand by thy pledge, father," answered 
 Anne, "that I shall not be required to marry Oliphant, 
 now that the city is taken, I will pledge a simple damsel's 
 word that thou shalt be as safe from the headsman's fal- 
 chion as thou art from the broadsword of that wild man, 
 whose bare limbs terrify me more than the bright steel of 
 the Bruce." 
 
 " Of a surety I will stand by my pledge, girl; but I can-
 
 68 TALES OF THE BORDERS, 
 
 not rest satisfied till I hear thy reason for the confidence 
 thou reposest in the clemency of the Scottish leader, whose 
 name is a terror to every enemy of his country." 
 
 " Nay, father, I am now trafficking with thee driving a 
 bargain, as thou sayest," replied she, with a smile, which 
 the still terrified Fleming could not for the soul of him 
 understand. " The bargain is concluded, and I cannot, for 
 my honour, say more, even to my father." 
 
 " Tell me, man," cried Peter, to the Highlander, who still 
 stood guarding the door, with the drawn sword in his hand 
 " tell me, since my daughter will not, what the Bruce in- 
 tendeth to do with Peter of Ghent, whose name hath ope- 
 rated as a charm on thy ear ? " 
 
 " Hoigh, hoigh, man ! " replied Duncan; " ye'll pe trying 
 to get secrets oot o' Tuncan Thu Mohr." 
 
 " I will give thee money, my brave preserver," rejoined 
 Peter, as he ran forward. " Let me escape, and I will re- 
 ward thee with ten nobles. Here they are see, see it is 
 meet thou shouldst have them, seeing thou wilt get no share 
 of the spoils of the city." 
 
 " Keep him securely/' whispered Anne, in the ear of the 
 Highlander, "and I will reward thee better on the mor- 
 row." 
 
 "Thou art mad, Anne. What means the rebellious 
 wench 1 ?'" cried Peter, angrily. "Thou hast become a 
 trafficker with the enemies of thy father. Henceforth I 
 have no faith in thee. Wilt thou not let me free, good 
 Master Mohr ? " 
 
 Duncan turned, and looked knowingly at Anne, who, 
 he probably thought, was wishing to torment the old mer- 
 chant. 
 
 "To pe surely, she will pe keeping her prisoner," said 
 he, in aid of the imputed design of the fair accomplice, 
 and with a twinkle in his eye. " Te auld merchant's head 
 will pe worth more than te ten nobles, she will pe thinking."
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OP PERTH. 59 
 
 "Dost thou not hear, Anne, that I am, as I suspected, 
 doomed to lay my head on the block ? " cried Peter again. 
 " Thou hast apparently some power over the savage," he 
 added, in a whisper; " aid me in bribing him, and we may 
 yet escape to Flanders, with my wealth, otherwise thou 
 wilt lose thy dowery, and I my head." 
 
 " I have told thee that thou art safe, and thou wilt not 
 listen to me," replied she. " Thou oughtst to be thankful 
 for thy condition. Hearest thou not the groans of the 
 dying citizens amidst the loud clang of arms ? Thousands 
 are now dying, and thou hast a royal guard to save thee 
 from harm; yet art thou grumbling at thy fate ! " 
 
 During all this time, the work of destruction had been 
 going on in all parts of the city. Bruce was well aware 
 that the great evil he had to cure could only be overcome 
 by extreme measures, and the better feelings of his nature 
 had for a time given place to the thirst for vengeance for 
 the many wrongs he had suffered from the tyrants, who had 
 not only ruined the country, but stained his domestic hearth 
 with the cruelties of persecution. He gave orders, on en- 
 tering the city, that every Scot that had favoured Edward 
 should die; and his command was but too literally obeyed 
 thousands on that night felt, in the pangs of death, the 
 effects of his dreadful retaliation. When the day dawned, 
 he collected his captains in the court hall of the city, for 
 the purpose of issuing ordinances of confiscation, settling 
 the terms on which the city should in future be held, and 
 passing sentence on the governor, who had been taken 
 alive, and stood in the hall bound in chains. Bruce sat in 
 the chair of office, his captains were ranged around him, 
 and by his left side sat two of the French squires already 
 spoken of, who had trusted to the events of that siege for 
 getting the leave of the bravest knights of these times to 
 remove the bandages from their left eyes, and be declared 
 entitled to the rights and honours of chivalry. The scene
 
 60 TALES OF THE EOKDERS. 
 
 presented one of the most extraordinary aspects of these 
 times of war and bloodshed. Bruce himself had fought 
 hand to hand with the officers of the garrison, and slain 
 every one who dared to withstand his terrible onset. His 
 face and hands were covered with blood; his bright armour 
 was stained; and the sword which he still held in his 
 hand bore evidence to the work of deadly execution it had 
 done against Scotland's foes. Sir James Douglas, Ran- 
 dolph, and others of the fiercest of his captains, bore the 
 same grim aspect; and the French squires exhibited by 
 their gore-stained shields that they merited the reward for 
 which they looked, from the honour-dispensing sword of 
 the king. 
 
 At a table before the king, there sat a man habited as a 
 clerk, with a black cloak over his shoulders, and a small 
 felt cap, that covered the crown of his head. He was busy 
 calling forth the names of the inhabitants who had adhered 
 to the cause of Edward; and, as he repeated them, the 
 king awarded his fiat of confiscation of the effects of the in- 
 dividuals. As the man proceeded, he came to the name of 
 Peter of Ghent, and Bruce paused. The recollections of 
 Anne and her father had been, by the turmoils of the siege, 
 for some time absent fiom his mind; but now his face 
 glowed as the adventure of the preceding night flashed 
 upon him, and the heroic conduct of the maiden was ap- 
 preciated: in the triumph he was now enjoying. He 
 thought for a moment, and remembered that it was she 
 who was to have been wedded to the governor. He could 
 not account for the apparent contradiction between this 
 purpose and the conduct of the girl in hailing him on to 
 the siege of the city; but his quick mind at once suggested 
 the solution that she had been hostile to the match, and 
 that it had been projected merely by her father as a part 
 of the transactions of the loan that had been given for the 
 support of the city.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 61 
 
 "Let Peter of Ghent and his fair daughter Anne be 
 called to our presence," cried the king. And in a short 
 time the wealthy Fleming, with Anne, who was covered 
 with a deep veil, was led forwards in the midst of the as- 
 sembled chiefs. It was apparent, from Peter's manner, 
 that he was still actuated by the fear of punishment, for he 
 trembled and shook all over, while Anne, looking at him 
 with side-glances from beneath her veil, seemed to contem- 
 plate him with a mixed feeling of pity and good-humour. 
 Bruce, who was anxious to see the face of the maiden who 
 had acted so noble and fearless a part, would have re- 
 quested her to lift her veil; but the high-bred feelings in- 
 culcated by the peculiar formula of knighthood induced 
 him to wait till he could accomplish the object of his wish 
 after the legitimate manner of the chevaliers. Turning to 
 the trembling culprit, he raised his voice to the hi,iiest 
 pitch. 
 
 "What does that inhabitant of old Scotland deserve," he 
 said, as he fixed his eyes on Peter, " who giveth his means 
 in aid of rebellion against his crowned king 1 Answer us, 
 Peter of Ghent, according to the estimate thou formest 
 of thine own act, in giving to Mr Oliphant, governor of our 
 city, the money wherewith he endeavoured to resist our 
 authority." 
 
 Peter was silent, for he was now satisfied that he had been 
 spared to be reserved for the gallows or the heading-axe. 
 
 " Speak, sirrah!" cried the Brace, assuming a more stern 
 tone of authority. 
 
 "What it meriteth in the mind of Scotland's lawful 
 king," replied Peter, at length; " but spare the old father 
 for the sake of his child, and what is left of my substance 
 shall go to support the crown, which a king's leniency to 
 repentant subjects renders the more lustrous. 
 
 " Flattery is no atonement for rebellion," thundered out 
 Bruce.
 
 62 TALES OP THE BORDEKS. 
 
 "God have mercy upon me!" cried Peter of Ghent. 
 "Thou knowest, my liege, that I had no power to resist the 
 command of the governor, when he demanded of me a thou- 
 sand nobles; nor could I resist thy higher authority, wert 
 thou to ask of me to lay another thousand at this moment 
 at thy royal feet." 
 
 " Thou wouldst now even bargain for thy head, as thou 
 didst for the marriage of thy fair daughter," cried Bruce. 
 " Is it not true, sir, that thou didst sell the maiden to the 
 traitor Oliphanf?" 
 
 " It is even true that I did make it a condition of the ad- 
 vance of the thousand nobles, that he should fulfil the in- 
 tentions he had manifested towards my daughter; yet I was 
 not the less necessitated to give the money, seeing it would 
 have )*en taken from me otherwise." 
 
 *' Ihen what does the man merit who sells his daughter 
 for the liberties of the country by whose industry and means 
 he liveth ?" replied the king. " I put it to the nobles here 
 assembled." 
 
 "The heading-block the heading-block," resounded in 
 hoarse groans through the hall. 
 
 "Will she not yet throw off her veil?" muttered the king, 
 as he cast his eyes on Anne. 
 
 " Lead Peter of Ghent to the block," he cried aloud. 
 
 Anne threw back her veil, and, with her face uncovered, 
 cast herself at the feet of Bruce. The assembled lords fixed 
 their eyes upon the damsel, as she occupied a position which 
 exhibited the graces of her perfect figure, and the intelli- 
 gence of her beautiful face lighted up with feelings which 
 moved the hearts of the sternest warriors around. They 
 were struck with the full blaze of a beauty that was not 
 excelled by the fairest woman of Scotland in her day, and 
 whispers went round among them that told eloquently the 
 effect she had produced by the sudden display of her 
 charms.
 
 THE EOMANCE OP THE SIEGE OF PERTH. 63 
 
 " Is this the reward, my liege," she said, in a clear, tune- 
 ful voice, " that is due to me for my humble efforts in be- 
 half of the success of thine arms 1 Is this the faith of the 
 Bruce, whose name has filled the nations as the trumpet re- 
 sounds within the palisades when honour is to be sought 
 and won?" 
 
 A smile played upon the face of the king. The quick, 
 dark eye of the maiden searched his heart, and was satisfied. 
 A m ntling blush, accompanied by a smile that seemed to 
 respond to the humour of the king, enhanced her beauty, 
 and showed that she understood the play that was enacted 
 by the noble monarch. 
 
 " It is the privilege of beauty," said the king, still smil- 
 ing, " to inspire its possessor with an unshaken faith in the 
 sanctions of the brave. We are not oblivious, fair Anne of 
 Ghent, of our promise, as this will testify." And he un- 
 did her own riband from his arm, and put it around the 
 neck of the supplicant. " The colour of this streamer shall 
 afterwards be that of the banner of Perth. Thy father is 
 safe in life and limb; but tell us, fair damsel, what other 
 method could we have adopted, to gratifiy our sense of jus- 
 tice and our love of beauty, than to show thy father that he 
 owes his safety to thee, and to make thee throw off the veil 
 that concealeth so fair a face?" 
 
 At this moment, one of the French squires, with his 
 left eye bound up by a green riband, advanced to the feet 
 of the king, and stood for a moment surveying the counte- 
 nance of the supplicant. 
 
 " By the patron saint of the house of Leon," cried the 
 Frenchman, " it is my fair queen of the lists ! Knowest 
 thou this silken band, lady, by which my left orb is oc- 
 cluded, and my affections bound to the giver 1 " 
 
 " If thou art Rolande de Leon," said Anne, as she rose, 
 by the hand of the king, " thou canst tell, if that gift was 
 bestowed by my hands. To that valiant squire, Anne of
 
 64 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Ghent did once award the humble pledge of a silken band, 
 which was to remain on his temples till he achieved a feat 
 of arms." 
 
 " Ha, well timed ! " cried Bruce. " Hear the command 
 of thy liege sovereign. "We command Anne of Ghent to 
 give the light of heaven to that occluded organ, which is 
 so well entitled to see the glitter of the sword of knight- 
 hood, and the charms of her who restores it to its natural 
 rights." 
 
 Anne proceeded, amidst the applause of the lords, to 
 obey the commands of the king. With a firm hand, but a 
 palpitating heart, she undid the bandage, as the Frenchman 
 knelt at her feet. 
 
 " Eise not yet," said Bruce, when he saw the operation 
 concluded.; and, taking his sword, he touched the back of 
 the squire, and pronounced the Avords, " Rise, Sir Eolando 
 de Leon, one of the bravest knights that it has been our 
 good fortune to see fighting under the blue banner of Scot- 
 land." 
 
 The knight rose, amidst the acclamation of the nobles. 
 The clerk again proceeded with his monotonous vocation 
 of calling out the names of the citizens. Peter, with his 
 daughter, accompanied by Sir Kolande, left the court-room, 
 and proceeded to his house, where, after proper explana- 
 tions, the Fleming saw no reason to regret the taking of the 
 city. On that same day, William Oliphant was beheaded. 
 The town was quickly restored to order; and, before Brace's 
 army again set out on a new expedition, Anne of Ghent be- 
 came the lady of Sir Rolande de Leon. 
 
 This brave knight accompanied Bruce through all his 
 engagements, taking frequent opportunities, throughout 
 the wars, of stealing a few days of the society of his fair 
 Anne of Ghent. In a short time he was covered with 
 honours; and, by the end of Scotland's period of direst 
 strife and danger, old Peter of Ghent died, leaving a large
 
 THE EOMANCE OF THE SIEGE OF TEETH. 65 
 
 fortune to his daughter. The couple, we have reason to 
 believe, retired afterwards to a castle somewhere in Perth- 
 shire, to enjoy the peace and happiness of a domestic life, 
 after so many toils and dangers. We have somewhere 
 seen the arms afterwards adopted by the knight, in which 
 three Lioncels rampant topaz figure on a field sapphire, 
 crest, wreathed with a riband vert. The wreath we may 
 easily understand; nor can we be at any loss for the deri- 
 vation of the young Lions, seeing that, according to our 
 authority, Anne bore Sir Eolacde three sons, whose de* 
 scendants, under the name of Lion, long lived in Perth- 
 shire; and, if we are not led astray by old writs, they after- 
 wards intermarried with the Lions of Strathmore.
 
 66 TALES OF THE BOP.DEKS. 
 
 THE PROFESSOR'S TALES, 
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME. 
 
 IN the olden times, there were certain fixed occasions when 
 labour and frolic went hand in hand when professional 
 duty and kindhearted glee mutually kissed each other. The 
 "rocking" mentioned by Burns 
 
 " On Fastening's E'en we had a rocking" 
 I still see in the dim and hazy distance of the past. It is 
 only under the refractive medium of vigorous recollection 
 that I can again bring up to view (as the Witch of Endor 
 did Samuel) those images that have been reposing, " 'midst 
 the wreck of things that were," for more than fifty years. 
 Yet my early boyhood was familiar with these social senile 
 and juvenile festivities. There still sits Janet Smith, in 
 her toy-mutch and check-apron, projecting at intervals the 
 well-filled spindle into the distance. Beside her is Isabel 
 Kirk, elongating and twirling the yet unwound thread. 
 Nanny Nivison occupies a creepy on the further side of the 
 fire (making the third Fate !), with her shears. Around, and 
 on bedsides, are seated Lizzy Gibson, with her favoured 
 lad; Tarn Kirkpatrick, with his jo Jean on his knee; Rob 
 Paton the stirk-herd; and your humble servant. And " now 
 the crack gaes round, and who so wilful as to put it by ? " 
 The story of past times; the report of recent love-matches 
 and miscarriages; the gleeful song, bursting unbid from the 
 young heart, swelling forth in beauty and in brightness like 
 the waters from the rock of Meribah; the occasional female 
 remonstrance against certain welcome impertinences, in shape 
 of, "Come now, Tarn nane o' yer nonsense." "Will! I 
 say, be peaceable, and behave yersel afore folk : 0d, ye'll 
 squeeze the very breath out o' a body."
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIMK. 67 
 
 " Till, in. a social glass o' strunt, 
 They parted off careering 
 
 On gic a night." 
 
 " Te've heard a lilting at our ewes-milking." 
 How few of the present generation have ever heard of this 
 "lilting," except in song. It is the gayest and sunniest 
 season of the year. The young lambs, in their sportive 
 whiteness, are coursing it, and bleating it, responsive to 
 their dams, on the hill above. The old ewes on the plain 
 are marching 
 
 " The labour much of man and clog" 
 
 to the pen or fold. The response to the clear-toned bleat of 
 their woolly progeny is given, anon and anon, in a short, 
 broken, low bass. It is the raven conversing with the jack- 
 daw f All is bustle, excitement, and badinage. 
 
 " Weer up that ewe, Jenny, lass. Wha kens but her woo 
 may yet be a blanket for you and ye ken wha to sleep in ! " 
 
 " Haud yer tongue, Tammie, and gang hame to yer books 
 and yer schoolin. Troth, it will be twa days ere the craws 
 dirty your kirk riggin ! " 
 
 Wouf, wouf, wouf! hee, hee, hee! hoch, hoch, hoch! 
 there in tliQy go, and in they arc, their horny heads wedged 
 over each other, and a trio of stout, well-made damsels, with 
 petticoats tied up " d, la breeches" tugging away at their 
 well-filled dugs. 
 
 " Troth, Jenny, that ewe will waur ye; 'od I think yehae 
 gotten haud o' the auld tup himsel. He's as powerful, let 
 me tell ye, as auld Francie, wham ye kissed sae snug last 
 nicht ayont the peat-mou." 
 
 " Troth, at weel, Tarn, ye're a fearfu liar. They wad be 
 fonder than I am o' cock birds wha wad gie tippence for the 
 stite o' a howlet." 
 
 " Howlet here, howlet there, Jenny, ye ken weel his auld 
 brass will buy you a new pan." 
 
 At this crisis the crack becomes general and inaudible
 
 68 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 from its universality, mixed as it is with the bleating of 
 ewes, the barking of dogs, together with the singing of herd- 
 laddies and of your humble servant. 
 
 Harvest is a blithe time ! May all the charms of " Syco- 
 rax, toads, beetles, bats, light on him" who shall first invent 
 a reaping-machine ! The best of all reaping-machines is 
 "the human arm divine," whether brawny or muscular, or 
 soft and rounded. The old woman of sixty sits all year long 
 at her domestic occupations you would deem her incapable 
 of any out-door exertions; but, at the sound of the harvest- 
 horn, she renews her youth, and sallies forth into the har- 
 vest-field, with hook over shoulder, and a heart buoyant with 
 the spirit of the season, to take her place and drive her rig 
 with the youngest there. The half-grown boy and girl of 
 fourteen are mingled up in duty and in frolic, in jest and 
 jibe, and jeer and laugh, with the stoutest and the most ma- 
 tured. Mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, and, 
 above and beyond all, "lads and lasses, lovers gay!" mix 
 and mingle in one united band, for honest labour and ex- 
 quisite enjoyment; and when at last the joyous kirn is won 
 when the maiden of straw is borne aloft and in triumph, 
 to adorn for twelve months the wall of the farmer's ben 
 when the rich and cooling curds-and-crcam have been ram- 
 horn-spooned into as many mouths as there are persons in 
 the "toun" then comes the mighty and long-anticipated 
 festival, the roasted ox, the stewed sheep, the big pot en- 
 riched with the cheering and elevating draught, the punch 
 dealt about in ladles and in jugs, the inspiring fiddle, the 
 maddening reel, and the Highland fling. 
 
 " We cannot but remember such things were, 
 And were most dear to us ! " 
 
 Hay harvest, too, had its soft and delicate tints, resembling 
 those of the grain harvest. As the upper rainbow curves 
 and glows with fainter colouring around the interior and the 
 brighter, so did the hay harvest of yore anticipate and pre
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME. 69 
 
 figure, as it were, the other. The hay tedded to the sun; 
 the barefooted lass, her locks floating in the breeze, her 
 cheeks redolent of youth, and her eyes of joy, scattering or 
 collecting, carting or ricking, the sweetly-scented meadow 
 produce* under a June sun and a blue sky ! 
 
 "Oh, to feel as I have felt, 
 Or be what I have been ! " 
 
 The favoured lover, namely, of that youthful purity, now 
 in its fourteenth summer myself as pure and all unthink- 
 ing of aught but affection the most intense, and feelings 
 the most soft and unaccountable. 
 
 "Ah, little did thy mother think, 
 
 That day she cradled thee, 
 What lands thou hadst to travel in, 
 What death thou hadst to dee ! " 
 
 Poor Jeanie Johnston ! I have seen her, only a few weeks 
 ago, during the sittings of the General Assembly, sunk in 
 poverty, emaciated by disease, the wife of an old soldier, 
 himself disabled from work, tenanting a dark hovel in 
 Pipe's Close, Castlehill of Edinburgh. 
 
 In the upper district of Dumfries-shire the land of my 
 birth, and of all those early associations which cling to me 
 as the mistletoe to the oak, and which are equally hallowed 
 with that druidical excrescence there are no coals, but a 
 superabundance of moss; consequently peat-fires are very 
 generally still, and were, at the time of which I speak, 
 universally, made use of; and a peat-fire, on a cold, frosty 
 night of winter, when every star is glinting and goggling 
 through the blue, or when the tempest raves, and 
 
 " There's no a star in a' the cary," 
 
 is by no means to be despised. To be sure, it is short-lived 
 but then it kindles soon; it does not, it is true, entertain 
 us with fantastic and playful jets of flame but then its 
 light is full, iinited, and steady; the heat which it sends
 
 70 TALES OF THE BOKDEBS. 
 
 out on all sides is superior to that of coals. Wood ia 
 sullen and sulky, whether in its log or faggot form. It 
 eats away into itself, in a cancer ignition. But the blazing 
 
 peat 
 
 " The bleezing ingle, and the clean hcarth-stane " 
 
 is the very soul of cheerfulness and comfort. But then 
 peats must be prepared. They do not grow in hedges, nor 
 vegetate in meadows. They must be cut from the black 
 and consolidated moss; and a peculiarly-constructed spade, 
 with a sharp edge and crooked ear, must be made use of 
 for that purpose; and into the field of operation must be 
 brought, at casting-time, the spademen, with their spades; 
 and the barrowrnen, and women, boys, and girls, with their 
 barrows; and the breakfast sowans, with their creamy 
 milk, cut and crossed into circles and squares; and the 
 dinner stew, with its sappy potatoes and gusty-onioned 
 mutton fragments; and the rest at noon, with its active 
 sports and feats of agility, and, in particular, with its 
 jumps from the moss-brew into the soft, marshy substance 
 beneath and thereby hangs my tale, which shall be as 
 short and simple as possible. 
 
 One of the loveliest visions of my boyhood is Nancy 
 Morrison. She was a year or so older than me; but we 
 went and returned from school together. She was the 
 only daughter of a poor widow woman, who supported 
 herself, in a romantic" glen on the skirts of the Queensberry 
 Hills, by bleaching or whitening webs. In those days, the 
 alkalis and acids had not yet superseded the slower progress 
 of whitening green linen by soap-boiling, tramping, and 
 alternate drying in the sun, and wetting with pure running 
 water. Many is the time and oft that Nanny and I have 
 wielded the watering-pan, in this fairy, sunny glen, all day 
 long. Whilst the humble-bee boomed past us, the mavis 
 occupied the thorn-tree, and the mother of Nanny employed 
 herself in some more laborious department of the same pro-
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME. 71 
 
 cess, Nanny and I have set us down on the" greensward 
 in tenaci gramine played at chucks, "head him and cross 
 him," or some such amusement. At school, Nanny had 
 ever a faithful defender and avenger in me; and I have 
 even purloined apples and gooseberries from the castle 
 garden and all for the love I bore " to my Nanny, oh ! " 
 
 I know not that any one has rightly described a first love. 
 It is not the love of man and woman, though that be fer- 
 vent and terrible it is not the love of mere boy and girl- 
 hood, though that be disinterested and engrossing but it 
 is the love of the period of life which unites the two. " Is 
 there a man whose blood is warm within him" who does 
 not recollect it ? Is there a woman who has passed through 
 the novitiate of fifteen, who has not still a distinct impres- 
 sion of the feeling of which I speak. It is not sexual, and 
 yet it can only exist betwixt the sexes. It is the sweetest 
 delusion under which the soul of a created being can pass. 
 It is modest, timid, retiring, bashful; yet, in absence of the 
 adored in seclusion, in meditation, and in dreams it is 
 bold, resolute, and determined. There is no plan, no design, 
 no right conception of came; yet the effect is sure and the 
 bliss perfect. Oh, for one hour one little hour from the 
 thousands which I have idled, sported, dreamed away in 
 the company of my darling school- companion, Nancy ! 
 
 Will Mather vras about two years older than Nancy a 
 fine youth, attending the same school, and evidently an ad- 
 mirer of Nancy. Mine was the love of comparative boy- 
 hood; but his was a passion gradually ripening (as the 
 charms of Nancy budded into womanhood) into a manly 
 and matrimonial feeling. I loved the girl merely as such 
 his eye, his heart, his whole soul were in his future bride. 
 Marriage in no shape ever entered into my computations; 
 but his eager look and heaving bosom bespoke the definite 
 purpose he anticipated felicity. I don't know exactly why, 
 but I was never jealous of Will Mather we were com-
 
 72 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 panions; and he was high-souled and generous, and stood 
 my friend in many perilous quarrels. I knew that my 
 pathway in life was to be afar from that in which Nancy 
 and Will were likely to walk; and I felt in my heart that, 
 dear as this beautiful rosebud was to me, I was not man 
 enough I was not peasant enough to wear it in my bosom. 
 Had Nancy on any occasion turned round to be kissed by 
 me, I would have fled over muir and dale, to avoid her pre- 
 sence and yet I had often a great desire to obtain that fa- 
 vour. Once indeed, and only once, did I obtain, or rather 
 steal it. She was sitting bsside a bird's nest, the young 
 ones of which she was feeding and cherishing for the pa- 
 rent birds, by the rapacity of a cat, had recently perished. 
 As the little bills were expanding to receive their food, her 
 countenance beamed with pity and benevolence. I never 
 saw even her so lovely so, in a moment, I had her round 
 the neck, and clung to her lips with the tenacity of a crea- 
 ture drowning. But, feeling at once the awkwardness of 
 my position, I took to my heels, becoming immediately in- 
 visible amidst the surrounding brushwood. 
 
 Such was "Will Mather," and such was "Nancy Mor- 
 rison" at the period of which I am speaking. We must 
 now advance about two or three years in our chronology, 
 and find Will possessed of a piece of information which 
 bore materially on his future fortunes. Will was an illegi- 
 timate child. His mother had kept the secret so well that 
 he did not know his father, though he had frequently urged 
 her to reveal to him privately all that she knew of his pa- 
 rentage. In conversing, too, with Nancy, his now affianced 
 bride, he had expressed similar wishes; whilst she, with a 
 becoming and feminine modesty, had urged him not to press 
 an aged parent on so delicate a point. At last the old wo- 
 man was taken seriously ill, and, on her death-bed and at 
 midnight, revealed to her son the secret of his birth. He 
 was the son of a proprietor in the parish, and a much-re-
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME. 73 
 
 spected man. The youth, so soon as he had closed his 
 mother's eyes, hurried off, amidst the darkness, to the 
 abode of his father, and, entering by a window, was in his 
 father's bedchamber and over his body ere he was fully 
 awake. 
 
 "John Scott!" said the son, in a firm and terrible tone, 
 grasping his parent meantime convulsively round the neck 
 "John Scott of Auchincleuch, / am thy son!" 
 
 The conscience-stricken culprit, being taken by surprise, 
 and almost imagining this a supernatural intimation from 
 heaven, exclaimed, in trembling accents 
 
 " But who are you that makes this averment?" 
 
 "I am thy son, father oh, I am thy son!" 
 
 Will could no more; for his heart was full, and his tears 
 dropped hot and heavy on a father's face. 
 
 " Yes," replied the parent, after a convulsive solemn sob 
 (0 Heaven ! thou art just !) " yes, thou art indeed my 
 son my long-denied and ill-used boy whom the fear of 
 the world's scorn has tempted me, against all the yearnings 
 of my better nature, to use so unjustly. But come to my 
 bosom to a father's bosom noiv, for I know that voice too 
 well to distrust thee." 
 
 In a few months after this interesting disclosure, John 
 Scott was numbered with his fathers, and Will Scott (no 
 longer Mather) became Laird of Auchincleuch. 
 
 Poor Nancy was at first somewhat distressed at this dis- 
 covery, which put her betrothed in a position to expect a 
 higher or genteeler match. But there was no cause of alarm. 
 Will was true to the back-bone, and would as soon have 
 burned his Bible as have sacrificed his future bride. After 
 much pressing for an early day on the part of the lover, it 
 was agreed, at last, that the marriage should take place at 
 "Peat-casting Time," and thafc Nancy should, for the last 
 turn, assist at the casting of her mother's peats. 
 
 I wish I could stop here, or at least proceed to give you
 
 V4 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 an account of the happy nuptials of Will Scott and Nancy 
 Morrison, the handsomest couple in the parish of Close- 
 burn. But it may not be ! These eyes, which are still filled 
 (though it is forty-eight years since) with tears, and this pen, 
 which trembles as I proceed, must attest and record the 
 catastrophe. 
 
 Nancy, the beautiful bride, and I (for I was now on the 
 point of leaving school for college) agreed to have a jump 
 for the last time (often had we jumped before) from a suit- 
 able moss-brow. 
 
 " My frolicsome days will sune be owre," she cried, laugh- 
 ing; " the guidwife of Auchincleuch will hae something else 
 to do than jump frae the. moss-brow; and, while my name 
 is Nancy Morrison, I'll hail the dules, or jump wi' the best 
 o' my auld playmates." 
 
 "Weeldune, Nancy!" cried I; "you are now to be the 
 wife o' the Laird o' Auchincleuch, when your jumping days 
 will be at an end, and I am soon to be sent to college, where 
 the only jump I may get may be from the top of a pile of 
 old black-letter folios no half sae guid a point of advan- 
 tage as the moss-brow." 
 
 " There's the Laird o' Auchincleuch coming," cried Peggy 
 Chalmers, one of the peat-casters, who was standing aside 
 along with several others. " He's nae langer the daft Will 
 Mather, wha liked a jump as weel as the blithest swankie 
 o' the barnyard. Siller maks sair changes; and yet, wha 
 wad exchange the Will Scott of Auchincleuch, your rich 
 bridegroom, Nancy, for the Will Mather, your auld lover? 
 Dinna tempt Providence, my hinny ! The laird winna like 
 to see his bride jumpin frae knowe to knowe like a daft 
 giglet, within a week o' her marriage." 
 
 "Tout!" cried Nancy, bursting out into a loud laugh; 
 "see, he's awa round by the Craw Plantin, and winna see 
 us and whar's the harm if he did? Come now, Tammie, 
 just ae spring and the last, and I'll wad ye my kame against
 
 PEAT-CASTING TIME. 75 
 
 your cravat, that I beat ye by the length o' my marriage 
 slipper." 
 
 " Weel dune, Nancy ! " cried several of the peat-casters, 
 who, leaning on their spades, stood and looked at us with 
 pleasure and approbation. 
 
 The laird had, as Nancy said, crossed over by what was 
 called the Craw Plantin, and was now out of sight. To 
 make the affair more ludicrous for we were all bent on 
 fun Nancy took out, from among her high-built locks of 
 auburn hair, her comb a present from her lover and irn- 
 pledged it in the hands of Billy Watson, along with my 
 cravat, which I had taken off, and handed to the um- 
 pire. 
 
 " Here is a better moss-brow," cried one, at a distance. 
 
 And so to be sure it was, for it was much higher than the 
 one we had fixed upon, and the landing-place was soft and 
 elastic. Our practice was,. always to jump together, so that 
 the points of the toes could be measured when both the 
 competitors' feet were still fixed in the moss. We mounted 
 the moss-brow. I was in high spirits, and Nancy could 
 scarcely contain herself, for pure, boisterous, laughing glee. 
 I went off, but the mad girl could not follow, for she was 
 still holding her sides, and laughing immoderately. I asked 
 her what she laughed at. Sho could not tell. She was 
 under the influence of one of those extraordinary cachinna- 
 tions that sometimes convulse our diaphragms, without our 
 being able to tell why, and certainly without our being able 
 to put a stop to them. Her face was flushed, and the fire 
 of her glee shone bright in her eye. I took my position 
 again. 
 
 " Now ! " cried I; and away we flew, and stuck deeply in 
 the soft and spongy moss. 
 
 I stood with my feet in the ground, that the umpire 
 might come and mark the distance. A loud scream broke 
 on my ear. I looked round, and, dreadful sight! I saw
 
 76 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Nancy lying extended on the ground, with the blood pour- 
 ing out at her mouth in a large stream ! She had burst a 
 blood-vessel. The fit of laughing which preceded her effort 
 to leap had, in all likelihood, distended her delicate veins, 
 and predisposed her to the unhappy result. 
 
 The loud scream had attracted the notice of the bride- 
 groom, who came running from the back of the Craw 
 Plantin. The sight appalled and stupefied him. He cried 
 for explanation, and ran forward to his dead or dying bride, 
 in wild confusion. Several voices essayed an explanation, 
 but none were intelligible. I was as unable as the rest to 
 satisfy the unhappy man; but, though we could not speak 
 intelligibly, we could act, and several of us lifted her up. 
 This step sealed her fate. The change in her position pro 
 duced another stream of blood. She opened her eyes once, 
 and fixed them for a moment on Will Scott. She then closed 
 them, and for ever. 
 
 I saw poor Nancy carried home. Will Scott, who up- 
 held her head, fainted before he proceeded twenty yards, 
 and I was obliged to take his place. I was almost as unfit 
 for the task as himself; for I reproached myself as the 
 cause of her death. I have lived long. Will the image of 
 that procession ever pass from my mind? The blood- 
 stained moss-ground, the bleeding body, the trailing clothes, 
 the unbound locks, are all before me. I can proceed no 
 further. Would that I could stop the current of my 
 thoughts as easily as that of this feathered chronicler of 
 sorrow ! But 
 
 " There is a silent sorrow here, 
 
 A grief I'll ne'er impart; 
 It breathes no sigh, it sheds no tear, 
 But it consumes my heart." 
 
 I have taken up my pen to add, that Will Mather still 
 remains a bachelor, and that on every visit I make to Dum- 
 fries-shire, I take my dinner, solus cum solo, at Auchin-
 
 THE MEDAL. 77 
 
 clench, and that many tears are annually shed, over a snug 
 bottle, for poor Nancy. 
 
 THE MEDAL. 
 
 I was educated in a Scottish university, where prizes were 
 distributed to the most distinguished students in each class 
 at the termination of the session. The most distinguished 
 prize was a gold medal, value ten guineas, the gift of a de- 
 parted elsve, and awarded to the best scholar in the mathe- 
 matical class. Having a natural turn or bias for mathema- 
 tical pursuits, I applied myself night and day to the attain- 
 ment of this my object of ambition; and this, too, at the 
 expense and neglect of all the other classes which I attended. 
 I was a very imperfect Latin scholar, I knew almost nothing 
 cf Greek, and held the unscientific reasoning of logic and 
 moral philosophy in great contempt. By great labour, and 
 after a severe competition, I succeeded in attaining the dis- 
 tinction at which I aimed, and saw myself blazoned in seve- 
 ral newspapers as the holder of this distinguishing badge. 
 My great chum at college was a Mr Donald Ferguson, a lad 
 of a staid and persevering disposition, of a well-balanced 
 and judicious mind, and without any talents, apparently, 
 which bespoke future distinction. We had been friends 
 and companions at school our parents were friends before 
 us and, although we differed materially in disposition, 
 this did not prevent the closest and most affectionate inter- 
 course. Oh! such recollections as now rush upon my 
 mind ! 
 
 " Dear happy scenes of innocence and ease 
 Scenes of my youth, when every sport could please !" 
 
 Ferguson and I spent whole days together in the solitude of 
 nature, with nothing but the deep blue and fleecy white over- 
 head; the stunted thorn and the croaking raven above; and 
 the brawling brook and trout-dimpled pool before us. In
 
 78 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 all games of activity I had the start of Ferguson, and was 
 always first chosen at " King o' Cantilon," " the dools," and 
 " shinty;" but he had the advantage again of me in feats of 
 strength and precision of eye in the quoits and putting- 
 stone. But I am wandering from my purpose, and forget- 
 ting my narrative. 
 
 Ferguson would often admonish me that I was giving of- 
 fence to several professors, in order to gain the good opinion 
 of one, and that the applause which my medal would pro- 
 cure for me might be too dearly bought at the expense of 
 every other department of study. I took all this in good 
 part, but without altering, in the least, my conduct, as I 
 answered that my friend was making a virtue of necessity, 
 and recommending that course of obscure diligence to me 
 which he, by nature, was destined to pursue. 
 
 In consequence of the eclat of the medal, I had an invita- 
 tion to make one of a pleasure party to Roslin, and had the 
 happiness of being introduced to some young ladies, who 
 had previously expressed to my friend Ferguson a wish to 
 make my acquaintance. We spent a most delightful day 
 
 " 'Midst Hoslin's bowers sae bright and bonny, 
 And a" the sweets o' Hawthornden." 
 
 The ladies were young, bright, and Tbcautiful, light of heart, 
 and delightfully pleasing in manners and conversation. I 
 had not been previously accustomed to such fascinating 
 society; and I felt that kind of intoxication which youth, 
 innocence, and strong passion only can feel. I was all day 
 off my feet, and gave way to every manner of fun, frolic, 
 and foolery, to show that, though I was an immense philo- 
 sopher, I was still a man in every pulse and vein. There 
 was in this happy group one divine countenance; an eye so 
 blue, and so soft, and so penetrating lips that moved in 
 meaning, and held every instant communication of the most 
 electric character, with a little playful, almost wily dimple
 
 THE MEDAL. 79 
 
 which gave the most varied fascination to a cheek of sun- 
 shine and almost rosy hue. Her form 
 
 " Was fresher than the morning rose 
 
 When the dew wets its leaves unstain'd and pure 
 
 As is the lily or the mountain snow." 
 
 In a word, as you will easily perceive, I was captivated; 
 and could do nothing all the ensuing night but toss and 
 think, and think and toss, till nature at last steeped me 
 anew, not in forgetfulness, but in all the motley, medley 
 joys and gambols of Roslin. I had now become a student 
 of divinity; but all study was with me at an end. No party 
 of young people particularly where young ladies were con- 
 cerned could be held without me.; and I had the very great 
 misfortune to be talked of by them as monstrous clever. 
 The young lady to whom I had so long paid particular at- 
 tention, and at whose house (that of the widow of a re- 
 spected clergyman of the Church of Scotland) I had long 
 been a habitual and a welcome guest, at last consented to 
 receive me in future in the light of a lover. We walked 
 it, talked it, and laughed it from morning to night, "as 
 other lovers do," and scarcely thought of either the past or 
 the future, being so completely engrossed with the present. 
 Time flew by on angel wings, fleeting as bright, and the 
 period of my examination, previous to my receiving license, 
 at last approached. I had all the while a secret misgiving 
 that I would not stand a trial, in the Presbytery of Edin- 
 burgh in particular; but I had no other residence for se- 
 veral years, and, consequently, no other way of becoming a 
 licentiate. As good fortune would have it, the mother of 
 my betrothed, through her interest with the Duke of 
 Queensberry's factor, had every chance of procuring me a 
 presentation the moment I was qualified to accept of it; 
 and both she and her daughter would as soon have dreamed 
 that I would fail in opening my eyes, as in obtaining the 
 indispensable requisite of a license. What I had anticipated,
 
 80 TALES OF THE 130EDEKS. 
 
 however, actually took place: I was found so deficient in 
 the classics of Greece and Rome, that my license was de- 
 layed, and I was remitted for twelve months to my studies. 
 This was a degree of disgrace and degradation which alto- 
 gether unmanned rne. I could not face my beloved Mary, 
 or her mother, or any of my own friends and acquaintances, 
 under such circumstances. Sleep fled my eyes, and my 
 mind became unhinged. Existence itself became a positive, 
 insupportable misery. I fled to the mountains; but they, 
 through all their glens and streams, had tongues that syl- 
 labled beloved names, which I wished, were it possible, 
 to forget. Wherever I went, the horrors of the past were 
 ever present. People seemed to me to stop and point 
 the finger of scorn at me from every street and doorway. 
 At last, in a fit of despair, I rashly resolved on self-destruc- 
 tion, and plunged headlong into Leith harbour. I have the 
 sound of the waters still in my ears, and that sound will, I 
 verily believe, remain till that of the last trumpet shall 
 mingle with it. When I awoke from seeming nonentity, I 
 was surrounded by many and unknown faces; and my pas- 
 sage back to life was more terrific and painful by far than 
 my exit. I had been for some time in a warm bed, and un- 
 dergoing the means of resuscitation. "Much kinder," 
 thought I, " had ye been to let me go." My name, parent- 
 age, &c., having been ascertained, my father was written to, 
 and I was kept in close custody till his arrival. My father 
 was a respectable farmer in Dumfries-shire, and imme- 
 diately hurried me away to my native glen. My mother 
 met me with tears; but they were those of sympathy and 
 affection, and one word of reproach she never uttered. I 
 became gradually more and more calm: but at times the 
 thoughts of the paradise which I had lost, and the hell I 
 had earned, would throw me absolutely into convulsions. 
 The calmness which gathered over my soul was not that of 
 resignation it was the settled gloom of despair. Religion
 
 THE MEDAL, 81 
 
 was talked of and pressed upon me; but as yet I had no 
 settled views on that subject. I neither believed nor dis- 
 believed: I was willing, when the subject obtruded itself 
 upon my thoughts, to get rid of it the best way I could. 
 At last my melancholy gradually undermined a naturally 
 good constitution, and it was manifest to my medical ad- 
 viser that I was verging towards that degree of weakness 
 and decay which, under various distinctive appellations, ia 
 sure to terminate in death. A change of scene was urged, 
 and I was hurried away to Saturness Point, that I might 
 inhale the sea breeze, and be interested in new objects. 
 This measure was at first partially successful; but, happen- 
 ing to see a newspaper one day, in which the settlement of 
 my more steady companion in the very church which I had 
 once destined for myself was mentioned, and reading in the 
 very same page a notice of his marriage with my beloved 
 Mary, I became immediately frantic. For years my mind 
 was so far unhinged that a person was appointed to watch 
 my motions, and guard me from self-destruction. "Oh, 
 that cursed medal!" was I heard again and again to ex- 
 claim; " it is to this I have to trace my every wo." What 
 I endured, during this dark and fearful night, no power of 
 fancy can image, no pen can describe. Horresco referens. 
 
 As God would have it, the person who was thus associated 
 with me night and day was religiously disposed, and took oc- 
 casion, when opportunity served, to lead my mind to serious 
 subjects to talk of eternity, immortality, heaven, and hell. 
 Often did I kick against the pricks, and strive to resume my 
 former indifference; but it would not do. The very possi- 
 bility of such awful truths was terrific. I awoke all at 
 once, S3 it were, to a sense of my imminent danger. I found 
 that I was sleeping on a parapet, from which to fall was 
 certain death. I fled with all possible speed to the only city 
 of refuge to the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. I 
 
 grasped the truths of the gospel with the energy of a dyin/ 
 
 c2
 
 . 82 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 creature. I hugged the very Bible to my bosom, and read 
 it night and day. Our conversations were protracted, and, 
 to me, ultimately delightful. I found that there was mercy 
 even to the chief of sinners, and I regarded myself as per- 
 sonally referred to in the gracious intimation. With the 
 perception and cultivation of gospel truth, my health gra- 
 dually rallied, and my mind assumed a more balanced at- 
 titude. It was about this time that my father died, and 
 the superintendence of a pretty extensive sheep-farm natu- 
 rally devolved upon me. This avocation, uncongenial as it 
 was to my college pursuits and feelings, still occupied my 
 attention, and withdrew me from reflections of no very 
 pleasing nature. In cultivating, or rather in renewing, my 
 acquaintance with the soil, and with its productions, vege- 
 table as well as animal, I felt that I was placed as it were 
 in the outer vestibule of God's temple. Into the holy of 
 holies, through the blessed mediation, I had already been 
 introduced, and it gave me pleasure to behold the outer, as 
 well as to contemplate the inner, courts of so stupendous 
 an erection. " The Shepherd of Israel neither slumbers nor 
 sleeps. My sheep hear my voice. He shall separate the 
 sheep from the goats. The streams that run amongst the 
 hills. Mount Carmel, Mount Zion, Mount Horeb." These 
 and similar expressions, in which the Jewish Scriptures, in 
 particular, abound, came home to my newly-renovated, and, 
 I trust, regenerated, perceptions, with a vividness and a 
 force formerly unknown. I seemed to myself to be a dweller 
 on the mountains of Jacob, and amongst the tents of Israel, 
 as my flocks scattered themselves on the hill-side, or pur- 
 sued the green pasturage by the streams of waters. There 
 was a harmony and correspondence betwixt the seen and 
 the unseen, the present and the past, the temporal and the 
 spiritual life, of which I every day became more and more 
 aware. 
 About this time we received intimation of the death of
 
 THE MEDAL. 83 
 
 my father's brother, who had gone, early in life, to King- 
 ston in Jamaica, and had, by prosperous adventures as a 
 merchant, realised a considerable sum of money. After va- 
 rious delays and much peculation, the residue of his fortune, 
 together with his will, was transmitted home, and I found 
 myself, as my father's heir-male, entitled to upwards of 
 ^10,000. My mother had 'already greatly declined, indeed 
 she never fully rallied after my father's death; and on the 
 very day on which the papers respecting the inheritance 
 arrived, I had to perform the last sad duties to one of the 
 best of parents. Alas! that ever my unhappy conduct 
 should have occasioned pain and anxiety in a bosom where 
 pure affection and undefiled religion habitually resided ! I 
 had the consolation, however, to receive my mother's bless- 
 ing in her parting breath, and to hear her construe my mis- 
 conduct and misfortunes into merciful dispensations of a wise 
 Providence, who is ever bringing good out of seeming evil. 
 "And better thence again, and tetter still, 
 In infinite progression." 
 
 The lease of the farm having expired in a year after this, I 
 did not think of continuing on a spot which suggested so 
 many recollections connected with the departed; so I at once 
 removed to furnished lodgings in Edinburgh, and gradually 
 renewed my acquaintance with a few of my still surviving 
 friends. Amongst these was the mother of my Mary, who 
 informed me that her daughter was now a widow and with- 
 out family, and was expected in a month or two to return 
 
 to her old fireside from the Manse of . I do not know 
 
 how it was, but I trembled all over at this information, and 
 an image, which had for so long a time been almost obli- 
 terated from my memory, now rose before me in all its ori- 
 ginal loveliness. The two months appeared to me two 
 twelvemonths, till I again saw, and renewed my acquaint- 
 ance, with the only woman whom my soul had ever loved. 
 Mutual explanations took place: she had married my friend
 
 84 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Ferguson, under the impression that, if not dead, I was con< 
 fined in a lunatic asylum; and had only consented, after all, 
 at the earnest request of her mother. It was but yesterday 
 that we had a most delightful drive to Koslin, where I re- 
 newed my addresses, and have been accepted. I have taken 
 a neat cottage near Hawthornden, where I mean to spend 
 with Mary the remainder of my days, if not in the fervour 
 of young love, at least in the more enduring, perhaps, and 
 more rational endearments of mutual affection, friendship, 
 and esteem. The medal, which was the foundation of all 
 my sufferings, I have at this moment suspended before me, 
 in my study, that I may be ever reminded of that false step 
 which, but for the interposition of Providence, might have 
 ruined both soul and body for ever. If it shall be in God's 
 providence that I am blessed with any pledges of affection 
 by my dear Mary, I shall endeavour to save them from the 
 danger which I so narrowly escaped; yet, so strangely com- 
 mingled are the good and bad things of life so very deli- 
 cately are the fine threads that go to form the web of our 
 moral system connected and interlaced that it requires a 
 hand finer than mere man's to remove some of the dingy 
 lines, so as to restore to the whole that beauty it possessed 
 when spread in the garden of Eden. If we take from the 
 noble steed the emulation that may hurry him over the 
 precipice, we will see him distanced at the next St Leger. 
 Must we, then, secure the good, and run the risk of the at- 
 tendant evil? The answer does not seem difficult. Let 
 emulation be by all means encouraged; but let all teachers 
 and parents impress upon the minds of the fortunate com- 
 petitors the true value of the prize won. And whilst 
 efforts are made in one direction, let it ever be remembered 
 that a useful education comprehends breadth as well as 
 length; and that the departments which have been neglected 
 may prove, in future life, those of the most essential value 
 in promoting success and securing happiness.
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 85 
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 
 
 IT is now some years since I happened to visit the pretty 
 little village of St Boswell's, in Roxburghshire, in company 
 with a friend, who had some stock to dispose of at the great 
 annual fair then holding there. Most of my readers are 
 aware that the Duke of Buccleugh is lord of the manor of 
 St Boswell's, and that a dinner is always provided, at his 
 grace's expense, in a barn on the fair ground, for all gentle- 
 men who have tickets of admission from the baron bailie. 
 While my friend was busied with the disposal of his stock, 
 I, being an idler, wandered up and down the green, and 
 was much pleased with the appearance of the fair, which 
 was more English, if I may be allowed to use the term, 
 than anything of the kind I had ever witnessed in Scotland. 
 The numbers, neat arrangement, and really handsome ap- 
 pearance of the "street" of booths the gay and well- 
 dressed parties of gentlefolks the cheerful, joyous faces of 
 the lower orders the handsome equipages the green at a 
 distance, swarming with cattl-3 of various kinds with a 
 bright and genial sun shining over all formed altogether a 
 pleasing and animated scene. Pleased as I was, however, I 
 caught myself several times involuntarily yawning, and 
 turning my eyes towards the barn; and I was not at all 
 sorry when the welcome sound of the drum announced that 
 "the roast beef" was ready. I was soon seated beside my 
 friend, who, like myself, was most ready and anxious to do 
 justice to the duke's liberal provision. I have a great talent 
 for eating, but none for description, so I will not attempt to 
 enumerate or describe the variety of good things which dis- 
 appeared before us; suffice it, we were all much more con-
 
 86 TALES OP THE BOEDERS. 
 
 tented with ourselves and each other when all was over, 
 than before our operations commenced. Commend me to a 
 man who has just made a good dinner if he be not a phi- 
 lanthropist then, he never will be. Happening to glance 
 my eye towards the other end of the table, I observed that 
 I was the object of close and intense attention to one of the 
 company a stranger of prepossessing aspect, who was 
 eeatcd at some distance at the opposite side. He gazed at 
 me with an earnestness almost amounting to rudeness; and 
 whenever I glanced in that direction, I perceived that his 
 eye was constantly riveted upon my countenance. At first, 
 I was considerably annoyed by the persevering scrutiny ot 
 his gaze; but, after a time, I was conscious of a vague im- 
 pression on my mind that I had seen his face before; but 
 when or where, I in vain endeavoured to recall. I was in 
 the unpleasant situation of one who hears a long-forgotten 
 melody, which stirs up within his mind overpowering and 
 indefinable emotions, though, at the moment, the associa- 
 tions connected with it are forgotten. A confused train of 
 visions of the past, of pleasure and of pain, crowded through 
 my brain, with a dreamy consciousness that the stranger 
 was, in some way or another, connected with them. I 
 could not, for the life of me, shake off the impression his 
 features had made upon my mind; and I wandered up and 
 down, through all the bustle of the fair, as abstracted as if 
 I were in a desert treading upon the toes of the present, 
 and raking up the ashes of the past, to puzzle out some 
 connection between them and the stranger; but in vain. 
 The indignant looks and half-suppressed curses of those 
 I jostled or trod upon alike failed in rousing me from my 
 reverie, till a violent push from the elbow of one of my 
 victims sent me staggering against a gentleman who was 
 standing close to one of the booths. It was the stranger. 
 
 How wonderful and unaccountable are the workings of 
 the human mind, and what trifling incidents may present
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. &? 
 
 us witli a clue to the labyrinth of thought we have been in 
 vain endeavouring to unravel ! 
 
 In making my apologies to the stranger, my eye chanced 
 to glance upwards to the sign above the entrance to the 
 booth; it was " The Old Ship." A flash of sudden recollec- 
 tion lighted up the dark places of my memory the friend 
 of my early days stood before me. 
 
 " Sandford ! in the name of all that's strange, is that 
 you?" 
 
 " My name is Sandford Grant," said he, "and I know and 
 feel that you are an old friend. I have been thinking of no- 
 thing else since I saw you in the barn; but my memory plays 
 me false I cannot recollect when or where we have met 
 before." 
 
 " Look up at that board perhaps it will assist your re- 
 collection, as it did mine." 
 
 "The [Old Ship!" exclaimed he, with a look of wonder 
 and inquiry. "The Old Ship!" he repeated, slowly and 
 distinctly, and then he gazed long and earnestly in my face, 
 till at length the look of indecision and doubt gave place 
 to a sudden glow of delighted recognition. "Douglas!" 
 exclaimed he, with a long and cordial shake of the 
 hand. 
 
 " The same, my clear fellow. It is ten long years since we 
 met, and time has left his marks upon us both; no wonder 
 we did not recognise each other at first; particularly as it 
 was in such a very different scene we last met, or rather 
 parted." 
 
 We spent the evening together, as two long-separated 
 friends should do, in talking over the events of our early 
 years, and relating our mutual adventures since we parted. 
 As I did not know Sandford myself at first, it is hardly to 
 be expected that the reader can know either of us without 
 a formal introduction; which is the more necessary, as we 
 are both to figure in the tale I am about to relate.
 
 88 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 Those of iny readers who have passed through Longtown 
 in Cumberland may have remarked, on the left-hand sido 
 of the main street, as they entered the town from the bridge, 
 a neat red-brick house, with an iron-railed enclosure in front, 
 and a large gateway to the right, leading into the courtyard. 
 In that house Sandford Grant and I first became acquainted 
 with each other; it was then an academy. The house still 
 remains, but master and pupils are "scattered to the four 
 winds of heaven." For three years we were class-fellows and 
 friends; for we were just of the same age, and a Scottish 
 feeling of clannish regard made us cling to each other more 
 perhaps than we otherwise would have done. He was a 
 handsome, spirited boy, or rather child, and was always 
 ready, at a word, to fight my battles as well as his own. He 
 was a great favourite on account of his frank, liberal dispo- 
 sition; but the most unlucky little dog that ever lived. If 
 ever there was any mischief going on, he was sure to be con- 
 cerned in it, and as sure of being discovered and punished; 
 if there was only one puddle in the road on a Sunday, he, 
 somehow or other, contrived to go out of his way to tumble 
 into it, dirty his white stockings, and be recommended by 
 the mistress to her husband's tender mercies. In fact, he 
 was constantly getting into scrapes; so much so that "Sand- 
 ford's luck " became quite a proverb among us. 
 
 It was with sad hearts and tears on both sides that we 
 parted, when circumstances obliged me to accompany my 
 family to the south. We were then about eleven years of 
 age; and having lately read the tale of Damon and Pythias, 
 we felt assured that we would willingly follow their example, 
 and were ready, if necessary, to immolate ourselves on the 
 altar of friendship. Fortunately for us, there was no such 
 necessity. The spring of tears in youth lies too near the 
 surface it is soon exhausted. We solaced our sorrows for 
 the present, by promising that, as we could no longer see 
 each other, we would exchange long letters, at least onco
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 89 
 
 a-week. At first our correspondence added considerably to 
 His Majesty's revenue; but our epistolary ardour soon 
 cooled, till, at no very long interval, our correspondence fell 
 into a gradual decline, and at last died away altogether. 
 But the Fates had decreed that Sandford and I were not to 
 part so easily. We met some years afterwards at the Mili- 
 tary College at Addiscombe, where we added to the number 
 of the East India Company's hard bargains. There we were 
 inseparable; for, with all the warmth of early recollections 
 around us, our renewed acquaintance soon ripened into sin- 
 cere and devoted friendship. 
 
 After the usual term of probation at Addiscombe, Sand- 
 ford obtained an appointment in the engineers, and I a 
 cadetship of infantry, and we sailed from England together. 
 On our arrival at Calcutta, we separated: he remaining at 
 the presidency, and I being ordered up the country, to join 
 my regiment at Cawnpore. 
 
 I pass over the details of my life in India; suffice it that, 
 after ten years roasting under an eastern sun, I was pretty 
 well done at last, and my liver began to give me sundry 
 gentle hints that it was time for me to be moving, unless I 
 wished to remain altogether where I was; accordingly, I ap- 
 plied for and obtained furlough to visit Europe for the be- 
 nefit of my health. Though Sandford and I had been so 
 long separated, we had always kept up a regular intercourse 
 by letter, and we had arranged that, if practicable, we 
 would take our furlough together; and, accordingly, we 
 managed matters so that we took our passage in the same 
 ship for England. Fortune had favoured us both in promo- 
 tion; we had each attained the rank of captain in our re- 
 spective corps. In congratulating Sandford on his good for- 
 tune, I remarked, in allusion to our school-days, that it was 
 better than " Sandford's luck." 
 
 " You would not say so, my dear fellow," said he, "if you 
 knew all. I im as unlucky a dog as ever; and you mof
 
 90 TALES OP THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 have reason yet, before we part, to wish we had not met 
 again." 
 
 "Nonsense," said I; "let us enjoy the present, at all 
 events, whatever the future may have in store for us. Come, 
 order your palanquin, and let us be off; the boat was to be 
 waiting for us at Champaul Ghaut at ten o'clock, and it 
 only wants a few minutes of the hour." 
 
 Our ship, the Dolphin, was a beautiful little chartered 
 free-trader, of about GOO tons, remarkably fast for a mer- 
 chantmana regular clipper, as her captain called her and 
 manned by an active and effective crew. She mounted twelve 
 small carronades on her upper deck, and a neat brass swivel 
 which traversed on the head of the capstan. On the 28th 
 August, 18 , we sailed from Sangor with several other mer- 
 chantmen, under convoy of H.M.S. Albatross. Our voy- 
 age was very tedious, unmarked by any variety except that 
 of wind and weather; and our captain, who was a smart, 
 active little man, an excellent disciplinarian, and much be- 
 loved by his crew, was dreadfully annoyed by the deten- 
 tion occasioned by the dull sailers of the fleet. At last he 
 resolved, if possible, to effect his escape, and make the best 
 of his way home. After we left St Helena, an opportunity, 
 unfortunately for us, soon presented itself. One squally 
 evening, the frigate made a signal for the convoy to carry 
 easy sail, and to watch the commodore's motions during 
 the night. Soon after dark, the wind freshened up to a 
 strong breeze, with passing squalls and heavy rain at times. 
 With her topgallantsails set over single-reefed topsails, the 
 little Dolphin bounded over the waves in such style as to 
 do credit to the name she bore; and, by keeping a little o* 
 the course she had before been steering, and carrying & 
 press of sail through the night, made such good use of her 
 fins, that at daybreak not a ship of the fleet was to be seen. 
 We were all at first delighted with our freedom, and with 
 the prospect of reaching our destination so much sooner
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 91 
 
 than we otherwise would have done; but, upon after reflec- 
 tion, we began to doubt the prudence of trusting to our own 
 legs and arms, when we would have been so much safer 
 under the wing of the Albatross. Captain Driver himself, 
 however, was in high glee; he said he knew that few even 
 of the crack privateers were matches for his little Dolphin. 
 However, he neglected no means of adding to, and improv- 
 ing, the efficiency of his vessel: the men were exercised 
 regularly at the guns, the passengers and servants drilled 
 in the use of the muskets, and every precaution was adopted 
 which skill and experience could suggest, to make our means 
 of defence as available as possible. 
 
 In this way our time passed away stirringly and plea- 
 santly enough, till we lost the south-east trade, and then 
 we were tormented for nearly three weeks with calms and 
 burning heat during the day, and heavy unceasing rains 
 during the night To add to our discomforts, a great mor- 
 tality had taken place among our live stock, and we were 
 for days floating about among a whole fleet of dead ducks 
 and fowls, with the pleasant prospect before us of salt junk 
 and hard Curtis* for the rest of the voyage." 
 
 "My old luck," said Sandford. 
 
 We had at last contrived to crawl as far as four degrees 
 north, when, one afternoon, to our great joy, we observed 
 signs of change in the weather. Light grey clouds were 
 beginning to appear to the northward; and we watched 
 with great interest those "ships of heaven" slowly and 
 gradually moving upwards. Light cats' -paws began to 
 xuffle the waters, and every here and there we saw in the 
 distance shoals of fish sporting amid the roughness which 
 the light and partial airs produced upon the surface. But 
 we were still lying becalmed; the awnings were all spread, 
 but the heat was oppressive; and the little Dolphin was 
 rolling heavily in the long sea, dipping her bright sides deep 
 * A famous biscuit-Laker.
 
 92 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 into the water. A long dark line was now visible on the ho- 
 rizon to the eastward, which gradually spread, and nearedus. 
 " Thank goodness ! there is a breeze at last ! " said Cap- 
 tain Driver; and in half-an-hour's time the Dolphin was 
 once more dancing along, like a living creature, over the 
 waves. During the night, the wind drew gradually round 
 to the northward; and before morning we had a fine steady 
 north-east trade, which carried us as far as twenty-nine 
 degrees north. From this time nothing particular occurred, 
 till we arrived nearly in the parallel of the English Channel 
 the Lizard bearing about north-east-by-east of TO, fifteen 
 hundred miles distant. Here, after a succession of south- 
 easterly breezes, we had another taste of "Sandford's luck," 
 in the shape of a calm of two days' duration. On the 
 morning of the third day, we were surprised by seeing, at 
 some six or seven miles' distance to the south-west, a long, 
 low, rakish-looking brig, with her royals furled and courses 
 hauled up, and a pennant flying at the mast-head. Imme- 
 diately on noticing us, she hoisted an English ensign, and 
 fired a gun. Our boatswain, an old man-of-war's-man, 
 immediately exclaimed that he recognised her as H.M. brig 
 Hawk; and upon her firing a second gun, the quarter-boat 
 was lowered and manned, and the second mate despatched 
 in her. Sandford, who was fond of novelty, asked and ob- 
 tained leave to join the party. Soon after the boat shoved 
 off from the Dolphin, a light breeze from the southward 
 filled the stranger's sails, and she drew a little nearer. We 
 were all anxious for news from England, and watched our 
 boat with great anxiety, as she went alongside of the brig; 
 but what was our surprise to observe that the crew were 
 all called up, and two of the stranger's men were sent into 
 the boat ! The brig was all this time slowly and gradually 
 approaching us, while we were lying helplessly becalmed, 
 watching the breeze as it rippled over the still, smooth 
 water, about half-way between the vessels. The stranger
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOS WELL'S. 93 
 
 was now within two miles of us, when the light air, which 
 had so long been favouring her, began to roughen the sea 
 close under our stern. A bright flash and a thick cloud of 
 smoke now burst from the stranger's bow, and the loud, 
 sharp report of a gun broke, with startling import, on our 
 ears, while, at the same moment, the English ensign was 
 hauled down, and the white flag of France floated proudly 
 in its stead, and a red cornet fluttered at the main. 
 
 " Here's a pretty business ! " said Captain Driver. " We 
 will give them a run for it, however." 
 
 In an instant, all was bustle and activity an board the 
 little Dolphin: every stitch of canvas was spread to catch 
 the coming breeze; two of the guns were trained aft, and 
 pointed out of the cabin windows; not a voice was heard 
 on board, but that of the captain; the men moved actively 
 and noiselessly about, watching their commander's eye, and 
 in prompt obedience to his orders. The little Dolphin her- 
 self seemed conscious that danger was near, so silently did 
 she slip through the water, as her lofty sails swelled out 
 with the light but steady breeze. There was such a hush 
 among us on board, after all the sails had been set, that the 
 only sound heard was the hissing noise made by the ship 
 as she cut rapidly through the smooth water, and the small 
 bubbles floated away astern. Presently a tiny wave raised 
 its white crest here and there, and broke with a gentle mur- 
 mur; there was glad music in the sound for it was a sign that 
 the breeze was freshening. In the course of an hour, though 
 the water was still smooth, the Dolphin was beginning to speak 
 audibly, and the white foam-bells danced merrily past her. 
 
 In the meantime, the stranger had not been idle. She 
 had at first made use of her sweeps; but, as the breeze 
 freshened, she laid them in. Her lofty spars were crowded 
 with canvas, and she seemed to be rather gaining upon us. 
 We could see that her decks were crowded with men; and 
 every now and then she sent a shot after us.
 
 94 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Talk away, my boys," said the gallant little captain 
 " I have no time to return the compliment. If I can only 
 keep clear of you till dark, I will weather you yet." The 
 poor little Dolphin glided away beautifully, and proved that 
 she well merited her good character; for, after some hours' 
 chase, the privateer had gained but little upon us; but still 
 there appeared no chance of our escaping in the long run. 
 About noon, the enemy was within range, and no sooner 
 made the discovery, than she began blazing away with her 
 bow-guns, in hopes of disabling us; but fortune, for once in 
 her life, favoured the weaker party. The privateer's shot 
 riddled our sails; but our spars and hull were as yet un- 
 harmed, when a well-aimed shot from one of our stern- 
 chasers went through her fore-topgallantsail, and struck 
 the mast just above the cap. Three cheers burst from our 
 gallant crew, as they saw her small masts first bend, then 
 fall forward together before the foretopsail, dragging with 
 them the main-royal and skysail masts. The sailing of the 
 two vessels was so nearly equal, that we now had a decided 
 advantage over the enemy, which Captain Driver did all in 
 his power to make the most of. Two of the foremost guns 
 were trained aft, and the men were all ordered to lie 
 down on the deck close to the taffrail, to bring the ship 
 more by the stern. There were active hands, however, on 
 board the privateer. In a wonderfully short time, the 
 wreck was cleared away, and new spars had replaced the 
 crippled ones. She came crawling quickly up again; and it 
 was evident to all on board the Dolphin, that, unless some 
 unforeseen accident saved us, a few hours would seal our 
 fate. 
 
 It was now late in the evening; the sun had set, and 
 dark, louring clouds were hanging over the horizon to the 
 westward. The water was still tolerably smooth, and the 
 wind was a little on our starboard quarter; the privateer 
 was coming up rather to leeward, gaining rapidly upon us,
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL S. 95 
 
 and peppering away as fast as she could with her bow- 
 chasers. Some of her shot told upon our hull, smashing 
 the cabin bulk-heads, but hurting no one; and, fortunately, 
 our spars were as yet untouched. But she was not so lucky 
 for we could see, by their getting preventer-backstays 
 upon her fore-topmast, that the mast was crippled. Captain 
 Driver perceived that there was no chance of escaping much 
 longer by fast sailing, and he determined to try what stra- 
 tagem could do for us. He called his men round him, and 
 explained to them what his intentions were; telling them 
 that everything depended upon their energy and activity, 
 and promising them, in the name of his owners, a handsome 
 reward if they succeeded in saving the ship. Immediately 
 after the next shot fired by the privateer, the man at the 
 helm, by Captain Driver's orders, began to yaw the ship 
 about the stunsails were hauled in the royal sheets let 
 go the sails clued up, but not furled the top-gallantsails 
 lowered, and the colours hauled down. Every movement 
 must have appeared to the enemy indicative of terror and 
 indecision; and we could distinctly hear the cheers with 
 which they hailed the lowering of our ensign. In the midst 
 of our apparent confusion, the yards of the Dolphin were 
 quietly drawn forward to starboard, and the men and pas- 
 sengers stationed at the topgallant and royal halyards, and 
 royal sheets. The privateer, which some of our men now 
 recognised as the notorious Hercule of Brest, came bowling 
 upon our larboard quarter, taking in and furling all her 
 email sails, and hauling up her courses. When she was sc 
 close to us that we might almost have thrown a biscuit on 
 board, the French captain jumped upon the bulwark with 
 his trumpet in his hand, as if to hail us. 
 
 " Now, my lad," said Driver to the man at the helm, 
 "remember what I told you. When I call out to you to 
 put the helm hard a-starboard, put it hard a-port." 
 
 The privateer captain was just putting the trumpet to
 
 96 TALES OF THE BOEDERS, 
 
 his lips, when Captain Driver bawled out, " Put the helm 
 hard a-starboard !" 
 
 As he expected, this order was instantly echoed on board 
 the privateer, who thought we intended to try and run 
 aboard of him. As I said before, the wind was a little on 
 our starboard quarter; and the Frenchman, by paying 
 quickly off", threw his sails aback; while the little Dolphin, 
 her helm having been put to port instead of starboard, flew 
 tip to the wind, and, her yards being all ready braced up, 
 darted away like an arrow to windward this being her fa- 
 vourite sailing point; at the same moment, the topgallant 
 sails were sheeted home and set, and the royals hoisted. 
 
 It was some little time before the privateer recovered 
 from the surprise and confusion occasioned by this unex- 
 pected manoeuvre; and, by the time her yards were trimmed 
 and sails set, the Dolphin had again a good start of her. 
 We had now reason to bless the fortunate shot that had 
 crippled her fore-topmast; for she was afraid to carry such 
 a press of sail as she otherwise would have done. However, 
 disabled as she was, she was still a match for us, and kept 
 throwing her shot after us, in token of her friendly feeling. 
 
 "Hurrah, my little beauty!" said Captain Driver, apos- 
 trophising his ship; "another hour, and we are safe." 
 
 The privateer was gaining upon us slowly but surely, 
 when the night, which, fortunately for us, was dark and 
 gloomy, set in. Captain Driver kept a light burning in the 
 stern cabin, and gave strict orders that every other light in 
 the ship should be put out. He then had a large water- 
 butt sawed in half, and fitted into it a light bamboo staff, 
 to the end of which a lantern was affixed. The tub was 
 well ballasted; and, when all was ready, it was lowered 
 down nearly to the water's edge astern, the lantern lighted, 
 and the lamp in the captain's cabin extinguished. Just as 
 the lanyards were let go, and the tub, with its decoy light, 
 fell into the water, we fired both our stern-chasers, to deceive
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 97 
 
 the enemy, and immediately bore up, and stood away, under 
 a press of sail, to the westward. The night was pitch dark; 
 the wind drawing round to the southward and westward, 
 and with every appearance of further change. 
 
 Our ruse succeeded completely. We were only aware of 
 the privateer's position by the bright flashes of her guns, as 
 she fired them in chase, as she thought; and by the twink- 
 ling light of the floating lantern, which was, at last, suddenly 
 extinguished, after a brisk fire from the Frenchman. We 
 ran, for a couple of hours, to the westward; and then, the 
 wind gradually heading us, we kept away again for the 
 Channel, and, before morning, we had a fine staggering 
 westerly breeze to help us along. 
 
 At daylight, nothing was to be seen from the mast-head; 
 and we cheerfully pursued our voyage, rejoicing in our for- 
 tunate escape. We had now time to think of and to lament 
 the hard fate of our shipmates, who had been so cleverly 
 entrapped. 
 
 "Sandford's luck, again," said I. "Poor fellow, how 
 strange it is that such a fatality always seems to attend 
 him!" 
 
 " You forget," said Captain Driver, " that the men who 
 are with him are in the same unlucky predicament, and of 
 course are equally unfortunate. But it is curious to ob- 
 serve how some men are favoured and others persecuted by 
 fortune. When I was a youngster, I sailed with a captain 
 (a smart, active, intelligent man he was) who told me that 
 ever since he had commanded a ship, each alternate voyage 
 had always been an unlucky one. 'And this,' said he, ' is 
 my unlucky one.' And sure enough it was so; for, from 
 the commencement to the close of it, it was one constant 
 series of misfortunes. However, I have no doubt our poor 
 lads will be well enough off on board the privateer the 
 French are fine fellows, after all; but I do not envy them 
 the quarters that await them on shore." 
 
 YOL. X. D
 
 98 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 The breeze continued steady; and in about ten days' 
 time we had run down a great part of our distance from the 
 Lizard, which we expected to make in two days more. One 
 morning the man at the mast-head reported a large ship 
 to the southward, and Captain Driver made her out to be a 
 man-of-war. We immediately crowded all sail, with the 
 horrors of a French prison before us; but she had already 
 noticed us, and come bowling after us, firing a gun to bring 
 us to, and hoisting English colours. After a long and 
 anxious survey of the stranger, Captain Driver was satis- 
 fied that she was an English frigate, and accordingly hoisted 
 his colours and hove to. From the lieutenant who boarded 
 
 us, we learned that the frigate was H.M.S. , bound to 
 
 Spithead. When we related to him our adventure with the 
 privateer, he told us that it was no wonder we were de- 
 ceived; for that the Hercule was often mistaken for the 
 Hawk, and that the real Hawk was cruising about the chops 
 of the Channel, in hopes of falling in with her. We followed 
 in the wake of the frigate up Channel, and, on the 1st 
 May, to our great joy, we cast anchor once more on the 
 shores of Old England. I remained two years at home, and 
 then returned to the East, without having heard any news 
 of poor Sandford's fate. 
 
 "And now, my dear Sandford," said I, "tell me all 
 your adventures since we parted companv so unexpect- 
 edly." 
 
 "You may imagine our surprise," replied he, "when we 
 found how quietly we poor gulls had thrust our heads into 
 the eagle's nest. The second mate of the Dolphin and I had 
 hardly set foot on the deck of the stranger, when we saw at 
 a glance our mistake; and, if we had any doubts on the sub- 
 ject, they were soon set at rest by the captain, who said to 
 us, shrugging his shoulders, with a smile 
 
 " ' Messieurs, you are my prisonnars; dere is no use for 
 de resiste; call your men out of de boat.'
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 99 
 
 " We saw too plainly that resistance was vain, and we 
 submitted to our hard fate as patiently as we could. The 
 boat's crew were sent down into the hold, and sentries 
 placed over them, and we were disarmed, but allowed the 
 range of the deck and cabin, giving our parole that we 
 would hold no intercourse with our own men or the crew. 
 When we saw the privateer's sails swell with the breeze, 
 and when with her long sweeps she began to crawl along 
 'like a centipede,' while the little Dolphin lay stationary 
 and becalmed, we feared that we should soon have more 
 companions in captivity. Great was our delight when the 
 gallant little vessel glided away like a fairy before us, and 
 we began to have some hopes of your escape, knowing as 
 we did what a character the Dolphin had for sailing. 
 
 " 'Well done, my beauty!' shouted the mate. 
 
 " ' Ah, mon ami,' said the Frenchman, 'do not rejoice too 
 queek; before night, your leetel beauts', as you call hare, 
 shall be mine." 
 
 "I cannot describe his mortification at the skilful ma- 
 
 . nceuvre by which you baffled him just as he thought he was 
 
 sure of you, and contrived to steal away again to windward 
 
 of him; but, after a time, when his angry feeling had passed 
 
 away, he could not help exclaiming 
 
 "Parbleu! he is one clevare man, that capitane! He 
 most be var weak after lose one boat's crew, and yet how 
 he manage his sheep skeelfully ! 'Tis almost peety not let 
 him rone away; bote I mos catch heem he cannot escape 
 long.' When the night set in so dark and gloomy, he said 
 ' Well, begar, I do begin think that capitane of yours is 
 not so vary clevare man after all. How he most be fool to 
 carry that light ! without that lumiere I should lose sight 
 of heem quite entirely, the night is so, what you call, so tar 
 no peetch dark.' 
 
 " ' I suppose,' said I, ' in the confusion he has forgot it.' 
 
 " ' Not a bit of it,' said Gordon, the mate, to me, aside;
 
 100 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 ' Captain Driver is not such a fool as he thinks. He has 
 some reason for what he is doing, depend upon it.' 
 
 "After a time, the light, which had kept a pretty equal 
 distance ahead of us, became apparently stationary, and we 
 came up to it with great rapidity. 
 
 " 'All,' said the Frenchman, ' he is tire at last. We have 
 catch heem.' 
 
 "We all thought that some of our chance shots had 
 taken effect, and that the Dolphin, unable to escape, had 
 hove to, to surrender. As we came near the light, the 
 small sails were taken in and furled, the courses hauled up, 
 and the boat was cleared away for lowering to board the 
 prize. 
 
 "'Begar, dis is ver extraordinare!' said the Frenchman 
 to me ' dere is de light, but I do not see de sheep. Sheep 
 ahoy!' No answer. 'Sheep ahoy! Answere, or I weel 
 fire.' Still no answer. 'Tirez done!' A broadside was 
 fired, and the light disappeared. 
 
 " Not a cry or sound of any kind was heard after the 
 noise of the firing had ceased. The poor little Dolphin, we 
 thought, must have sunk at once; but yet it was very 
 strange that so large a vessel (she was large compared to 
 the Frenchman) could have been invisible and inaudible 
 when so near us. The boats were lowered immediately, 
 and furnished with lanterns, that their crews might see to 
 save all they could. After a short time, they returned, 
 bringing back, a^ the sole remains of the poor Dolphin, a 
 few broken staves, and a bamboo, with a lantern lashed 
 to the end of it. The French captain's blank stare of 
 astonishment was at first quite amusing; but at last the 
 truth flashed upon him, and, with a loud laugh, he ex- 
 claimed 
 
 '"Parbleu! that capitane is one dam clevare fellow! He 
 throw out one tub to catch a whale; he deserves to escape. 
 Neanmoins, he is not safe yet/'
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. 101 
 
 "He then hauled close to the wind, and stood to the 
 eastward, thinking that you would make for the Channel 
 as fast as possible. If it had not been for the name of the 
 thing, we would have enjoyed the cruise very much; for 
 the French captain and his officers were polite and gentle- 
 manly, and treated us as messmates and friends. Their 
 destination was Brest, and ours, eventually, a French prison, 
 till we should be ransomed or exchanged a pleasant way 
 for me to enjoy my three years' furlough ! 
 
 " One afternoon, just after dinner, as we were dodging to 
 the eastward, with the wind at north, a sail appeared ahead, 
 but too far off to distinguish what she could be. All sail 
 was immediately made in chase, and we rapidly neared the 
 object of our pursuit. She was a lumbering, heavy-looking 
 brig, under topgallantsails, painted with a broad, dirty 
 white streak, turning up at each end with a sheer like 
 a bow. We hoisted French colours, and fired a gun to 
 leeward; she showed an English ensign, and immediately 
 began to make more sail, which she did in a regular collier- 
 like fashion, and went floundering and plunging along like 
 a cart-horse over a ploughed field; and the more sail she 
 made, the slower she seemed to go. We were all mightily 
 amused with her clumsy attempts to escape, and wondered 
 at her folly in exasperating her enemy by such unavailing 
 efforts. Gun after gun was fired to bring her to; but still 
 she floundered on, kicking up her stern as if in derision, as 
 her heavy bow plunged deep into the water. At last the 
 captain of the privateer got into a towering passion, and 
 swore he would sink her when he got alongside. While' 
 the brig, or at least her crew, were straining every nerve to 
 escape, one of her maintopgallant sheets went; and the awk- 
 ward and slovenly manner in which the sail was handled 
 excited the laughter of all on board our small craft. The 
 brig at this time, as if aware that escape was hopeless, took 
 in her royals, and lowered her topgallantsails, but without
 
 102 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 altering her course, or striking her colours. It was dusk 
 when we came within speaking distance; and, running up 
 close under her quarter, our captain seized the speaking- 
 trumpet, and ordered the brig to strike her colours imme- 
 diately, or he would sink her. What was his surprise, 
 when, in answer to his hail, three deafening cheers re- 
 sounded from the brig ! Her deck was in an instant swarm- 
 ing with men; and, while our crew were gaping with asto- 
 nishment, the painted canvas screen disappeared from her 
 side as if by magic, and a broadside was poured into our hull, 
 which made us reel again, and wounded and killed several 
 of the crew. In justice to the Frenchman, I must say, that, 
 as soon as the first surprise was over, he (the captain, I 
 mean) was as cool and collected as possible. His orders 
 were given rapidly and energetically; and actively and ably 
 were they executed. He instantly stood away to the south- 
 ward and eastward, and trusted to his heels to escape from 
 an enemy whom he saw at a glance he was unable to cope 
 with. In a few minutes, from the truck to the water's 
 edge, the Hercule was one cloud of canvas; and merrily did 
 she dance away over the waves. The English man-of-war 
 crowded all sail after us; very differently was she handled, 
 now she was no longer acting merchantman. She seemed 
 to have cast aside her sluggishness with her disguise, and, 
 to our great surprise, seemed rather to gain than lose ground. 
 She kept on our weather (larboard) quarter; and her bow- 
 chasers were in constant play, and remarkably well served 
 hardly a shot but told upon our rigging or hull. 
 
 " The Hercule was considered the fastest privateer out of 
 France; but, before the wind, the brig was evidently gain- 
 ing upon us. Not one of our shot had, as yet, done her any 
 material injury, though her head sails were riddled through 
 and through. This game could not last long; the privateer 
 determined upon trying another move. He was obliged to 
 keep his pumps constantly going, for he had received sevc-
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL's. 103 
 
 ral shots between wind and water. Suddenly whipping in 
 all his stunsails, he ran his yards forward, and hauled to the 
 eastward. This manoeuvre was rapidly and skilfully exe- 
 cuted; and, as we shot across the bows of the English brig, 
 we poured a raking broadside into her, which, we after- 
 wards learned, did not do so much damage as we expected, 
 as our guns were pointed too high. Three cheers rang from 
 the English brig; as quick as thought, they ran in their 
 stunsails, and, following our movements, hauled to the wind. 
 
 " As the privateer had anticipated, the moment the brig 
 rounded to, her foretopsail and topgallantsail, already in 
 tatters, blew clean out of the bolt-ropes. This was a glori- 
 ous sight for the privateer, but a sad one for us poor pri- 
 soners; we thought that all chance of escape was at an end, 
 and that it was impossible for the brig to shift her sails 
 quickly enough to save her distance. But ' impossible ' is 
 a landsman's word there is none such on board a British 
 man-of-war; her fore-rigging was swarming with men in a 
 moment, and in ten minutes more they were bringing a new 
 topstail to the yard, and the topgallantyard was on its way 
 to the mast-head again. In the meantime her bow guns 
 had not been silent; a pretty smart conversation was car- 
 ried on between them and our stern-chasers, and their an- 
 swers were most unpleasantly true and galling. Her guns 
 must have had picked marksmen stationed at them, for 
 hardly a shot was thrown away. 
 
 " We were, however, leaving the brig rapidly, when a lucky 
 shot from her came through one of our quarter-ports, and 
 knocked down the two men at the helm. The privateer in- 
 stantly flew up in the wind, and her head-sails took aback; 
 and though the helmsmen were instantly replaced, and the 
 vessel boxed off again skilfully and rapidly, yet the few 
 minutes that elapsed before she paid off and gathered way 
 again, were sufficient to make a great alteration in our re- 
 lative positions.
 
 104 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "The English brig was now within half-a-mile on our wea- 
 ther quarter, gaining steadily and slowly, and throwing her 
 single shot into us with the most unerring precision. At 
 last an eighteen-pound shot struck our weather maintopsail 
 yardarm; and the spar snapped in two close outside the 
 slings. All chance of escape was now over; but the French- 
 man, a gallant fellow, was determined not to strike till the 
 last; and all the guns that could be brought to bear upon 
 the brig were double-shotted, and rattled into her. In an- 
 swer to this salute, the man-of-war gave a yaw to windward, 
 and poured her starboard broadside into the privateer, with 
 deadly effect; and then, bearing suddenly up amid the clouds 
 of smoke, she ran close under our stern, and discharged her 
 larboard guns, sweeping our decks fore and aft, dismounting 
 two of our guns, killing five of our men, and carrying away 
 our tiller-ropes. The privateer was now perfectly unma- 
 nageable; her topmasts were hanging in splinters over her 
 sides; her brave captain was killed; there were three feet 
 water in the hold; and the active and indefatigable brig was 
 playing round and round, pouring in her remorseless fire. 
 The French crew, seeing the madness and inutility of fur- 
 ther resistance, struck their colours; and in a few minutes 
 a boat came on board from H.M. brig Hawk, and the offi- 
 cers of the privateer surrendered their swords to the lieu- 
 tenant in command; who, on receiving them, complimented 
 the privateer's men highly on their gallant defence. I was 
 greatly grieved at the death of the French captain, who, 
 during our short sojourn with him, had endeared himself to 
 us by his handsome and gentlemanly behaviour. He had 
 allowed Gordon, the mate, and myself to dispose of ourselves 
 as we thought proper during the action, on our giving our 
 parole that we would not in any way interfere. As soon as 
 the privateer ceased firing, the smothered sound of three 
 cheers came faintly up the hatchway from our poor fellows 
 in the hold, who rightly judged the result of the action.
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL S. 105 
 
 They were immediately liberated; and a prize crew having 
 been sent on board, the French took up the quarters just 
 vacated by the ' Dolphins.' 
 
 " After a few hours spent in repairing damages, and in 
 vigorous exercise at the pumps of the privateer, the Hawk, 
 with her prize in tow, stood to the northward and eastward; 
 and in a few days the Hercule, with the red ensign proudly 
 floating above the flag of France, followed her captor into 
 Spithead. As soon as I possibly could, I hastened up to 
 town, where I found a letter lying for me at my agent's, to 
 be delivered as soon as the Dolphin arrived (my friends 
 knew I had taken my passage in that ship), begging me to 
 hasten over to Ireland immediately, to attend the death-bed 
 of a maternal uncle. I arrived in Dublin in time to attend 
 the old gentleman's funeral, and to find, to my great surprise, 
 that he had left the whole of his Irish property and a large 
 estate in this country to his grateful nephew, on condition 
 that I took his name. Fortune was tired of plaguing me at 
 last. I was obliged to remain nearly three years in Ireland, 
 in order to arrange matters satisfactorily with my agent, and 
 to put everything in train for making my tenants as com- 
 fortable as possible. My other estate is in Perthshire, where 
 I shall be delighted to enjoy the pleasure of your society, 
 until you are wearied of ours. I say ours, because I have a 
 new friend to introduce to you in the person of my wife." 
 
 I accompanied Sandford home, and found his establish- 
 ment such as I should have expected from a man of his li- 
 beral and enlightened turn of mind handsome without os- 
 tentation liberal without profusion. His lady was a most 
 amiable and agreeable person unaffected and cheerful in 
 her manners. I was delighted with my first introduction to 
 her. Coming forward to meet me with all the graceful ease 
 that distinguishes a well-bred woman, and with all the 
 warmth of manner of an old friend, she shook me most cor- 
 dially by the hand.
 
 106 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Mr Douglas," said she, "I am delighted to see you; 
 often and often has Sandford talked over your mutual ad- 
 ventures, and regretted the evil destiny that separated him 
 from his earliest and dearest friend. Your character is so 
 familiar to me, that I feel as if, instead of addressing a 
 stranger, I were talking to an old friend. I hope you will 
 soon learn to look upon all here in the same light." 
 
 It was impossible not to feel instantly at home, where 
 such genuine and sincere cordiality was displayed; and in 
 a few hours I was as completely domesticated at Grant 
 Hall, as if I had been its inmate for years. The very ser- 
 vants seemed .to feel that in pleasing mo they were pleasing 
 their master and mistress; for whom, it was evident, they 
 all felt the greatest affection and respect. It is a good sign 
 of the heads of a house, when the servants grow grey at 
 their posts; and most of those at Grant Hall seemed in a 
 fair way of doing so. But I am digressing. While the cere- 
 mony of introduction between myself and Mrs Grant was in 
 progress, a young lady was seated at one of the open win- 
 dows. She raised her eyes on my entrance and such eyes ! 
 However, I will say nothing more about them; for, though 
 so much has already been spoken and written about ladies' 
 eyes, one glance from such a pair as then beamed upon me 
 was worth volumes of description. There was nothing at 
 first particularly striking about the lady's appearance; at 
 least nothing sufficiently so for particular notice or descrip- 
 tion; but, on further scrutiny, her features were faultlessly 
 regular, and the expression of her countenance was so placid 
 and gentle, that, had it not been for the lambent fire of her 
 dark eyes, I might almost have fancied that some pure, cold, 
 faultless creation of the sculptor's fancy sat before me. Hers 
 was one of those faces which seldom arrest admiration at 
 first sight, but which seem to display new beauties the 
 longer they are gazed upon. Sandford introduced her as 
 his sister Alice.
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELLS. 107 
 
 " This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Sandford," said I. 
 " Your brother wished to give me an agreeable surprise, I 
 suppose; for he never told me that you formed one of his 
 family party." 
 
 " Sandford may have neglected to mention his sister to 
 you, Mr Grant," said she, her bright eyes sparkling with 
 animation, and giving life and energy to her features; "but 
 I assure you he has not been backward in making you the 
 theme of his discourse to us. I have often been inclined to 
 feel jealous of his brotherly regard for you." 
 
 "Upon my word, Ned Douglas," muttered I to myself, 
 when I was comfortably settled into my soft bed, "you're 
 a lucky dog to have fallen into such good quarters. A few 
 weeks ago, you were afraid to move, lest you should tumble 
 out of your narrow cot, and break your invaluable head 
 upon a hard deck; and now you are afraid to move for fear 
 of losing yourself in this wilderness of a bed, or being 
 smothered in an ocean of feathers." 
 
 It was bright and beautiful July; all nature brightened 
 in the smile of the summer sun, and fair Alice smiled upon 
 me. Could I be otherwise than happy ? 
 
 Sandford was a keen fisherman; and we used to wander 
 together clay after day along the banks of the beautiful 
 Tay---he to indulge in an amusement which he enjoyed 
 with enthusiastic relish, and I to gratify my love for the 
 beauties of nature, which are nowhere seen to greater per- 
 fection than on the banks of that noble stream. We always 
 returned home to a late dinner, and the evenings were en- 
 livened with music and song, in which both the ladies ex- 
 celled, and in talking over the adventures of the day, and 
 the stirring scenes of our past lives. 
 
 " What strange beings sailors must be ! " said Alice to 
 me one evening; " such compounds of contradictions ! so 
 lavish, yet so selfish so daring, yet so superstitious." 
 
 " Do you remember that strange old fellow, Eoclney, the
 
 108 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 quartermaster," said Grant, "who used to be such a favour- 
 ite of yours ? What yarns, as he called them, he used to 
 spin ! enough to stagger the faith of the most credulous; 
 and yet I really think the old fellow had told them so often 
 that he believed them himself." 
 
 "Come, Mr Douglas," said Alice, "can you not revive 
 your recollections of the past sufficiently to favour us with 
 a sample of his yarns, as you call them ? We have a long 
 evening before us, and you know we ladies are fond of 
 novelty and excitement." 
 
 " Well, Miss Alice, I will endeavour to gratify your love 
 of the novel and marvellous; but, remember, the story I 
 am about to tell is Rodney's, not mine. You talked of the 
 superstition of sailors I will repeat you one of his ghost 
 stories, as it is less improbable than most of his yams; and 
 I know for a fact that there were numbers besides Rodney 
 who firmly believed it." 
 
 " Well, but, Douglas," said Sandford, " let us have it in 
 true Rodney style slang and all. Don't be alarmed, ladies, 
 by slang I only mean the peculiar phraseology of men of the 
 Rodney stamp." 
 
 " Oh, do, Mr Douglas now do ! It will add so greatly 
 to the effect of the story; and I am sure you will not say 
 anything to shock our ears." 
 
 "Well, Miss Alice, I will do my best to please you; but 
 I must endeavour, in the first place, to give you ^ome notion 
 of Rodney's appearance. Do you remember him distinctly, 
 Sandford ? I have his figure before my mind's eye long, 
 thin, and muscular; a kind of prototype of that pink of all 
 coxswains and quartermasters, 'Long Tom Coffin;' his 
 round, brightly-blackened hat flapped down upon his head, 
 with an air of careless indifference; his thin, iron-grey 
 hair peeping out behind, as if it was wondering where the 
 queue was going to; and his face Booking out in front, as 
 rough and unmoved as the surface of a weatherbeaten rock.
 
 THE MEETING AT SI BOSWELL'g. 109 
 
 " ' Well, Eodney,' said I to him, one first-watch, when 
 his spell at the cunn was over, and he was taking what he 
 called a fisherman's walk* on the lee side of the poop 
 ' well, Eodney, you really do believe in Flying Dutchmen, 
 ghosts, and all that kind of nonsense?' 
 
 "'Believe! Lord love your honour, to be sure I do! 
 Didn't I sail with a man once as had been in a ship 
 where one of the lads had seen the Flying Dutchman the 
 voyage before, and swore to it, too ? Believe ! Why, axing 
 yer honour's pardon, and meaning no offence, there's none 
 but fools and long-shore chaps what doesn't believe them.' 
 
 " ' Well, well; but ghosts, Eodney did you ever see a 
 ghost ?' 
 
 " ' Why, I can't say as how I ever seen one myself; but I 
 knows them as has.' 
 
 " ' Ah ! and what sort of ghost was it ?' 
 
 " ' Why, it's a longish yam, yer honour; and ye're want- 
 ing to turn in. You can't keep your eyes open like an old 
 sailor; it's not naturable you should, seeing you haven't had 
 the same opportunity of laming. You oodn't believe, now, 
 I suppose, Mr Douglas, that I keeps watch and watch with 
 my peepers, and always goes to sleep with one eye open? 
 And, for the matter o' that, when I'm walking the deck by 
 myself, I often takes off one of my shoes, to give 'em spell 
 and spell about.' 
 
 " ' Why,' said I, ' I have seen you keeping your shoes at 
 watch and watch; but the eyes, Eodney I can't swallow 
 the eyes.' 
 
 " 'Love yer honour, you hain't half a swally, then; 
 when you've heerd as many queer yarns as I've heerd, and 
 seen as many deviltries as I've seen, yell larn to swallow 
 anything.' 
 
 " ' But come, Eodney, let's have the ghost. I don't mean 
 to turn in till eight-bells.' 
 
 * " Fisherman's walk" two steps and overboard.
 
 110 TALES OP THE BOBBERS. 
 
 " The old man leaned back upon the hencoop on which I 
 was sitting, crossed his arms over the breast of his pea- 
 jacket, and began: 
 
 " ' Well, yer honour, Jack Rodney never was the man to 
 lay at his anchors when the signal was made to get under 
 weigh. I've been at sea, yer honour, man and boy, five- 
 and-thirty years come next quarter-day; and there's ne'er a 
 blue-jacket afloat as can say Jack Rodney ever sailed under 
 false colours, or stretched a yarn beyond its bearings. When 
 once old Jack gets his jawing-tacks aboard, his yarn runs 
 off clear and quick, like the line off a log-reel in a breeze. I 
 hates them stuttering beggars, axing yer honour's pardon, 
 as boxes all the points of the compass, and never steers no 
 strait coorse after all. Their words come creeping but as if 
 they were afeerd the master-at-arms was a-going to put 
 them in limbo; but a steady helm and a straight coorse for 
 old Rodney, says I.' . 
 
 "After the old man had talked himself into a proper 
 opinion of his merits, he began at once to steer a straight 
 course, as he called it. 
 
 " ' Ye've never been in Chainey, yer honour ? Ah you 
 long-togged gentry has a vast to see! Why, you sits at 
 home half your lives, and never knows nothing. Why, now 
 I'll make bould to say yer honour doesn't know how to make 
 a sea-pie or a dish of lobskous?' 
 
 "'Not I, Rodney.' 
 
 " ' My eyes!' muttered the old man to himself, 'to think 
 of a man coming to his years, and not knowing how to make 
 lobskous ! Why, sir, axing yer pardon, yer edication must 
 have been sadly neglected.' 
 
 " ' Oh, I shall improve under your tuition, Rodney; but 
 now for the ghost.' 
 
 " 'Well, sir, you sees when I was aboard the old Bruise- 
 water, East Injeeman, we wor lying at our moorings in 
 Wampoa Reach that's in Chainey, yer honour. There
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'S. Ill 
 
 was a large fleet of us, all lying waiting for a cargo, with 
 nothing in the varsal world to do but to keep the ships 
 clean, and to play at race-horses with the boats. A grand 
 sight it was, yer honour, to see so many fine large craft 
 lying at anchor, all clean painted, and looking as gay as so 
 many women rigged out for a dance ashore, with their red 
 and striped ensigns all fluttering in the sunshine; and the 
 lads all as neat and clean as shore-going gemmen. Why, 
 Lord love you, this here craft would look like a cockle- 
 shell alongside o' them ! 'Twas a sight to do an old sailor's 
 heart good, to see sich a show of merchantmen as no other 
 country but Ould England could produce. And then, for 
 such an outlandish, out-o'-the-way place as Chainey, the 
 country wasn't so ill-looking neither. On each side of the 
 river were the level green paddy fields, with here and there 
 a little hill, with a joss-house peeping out from the bam- 
 boos; the green hills of Dane's Island further up, and its 
 valleys rich with orange-trees and patches of sugar-cane. 
 Further up still was the village of Wampoa, all sticks and 
 straw like, with a great thing like a lighthouse what 
 them, neggurs calls a pugodour standing as stiff as a marine 
 at attention, on the opposite bank of the river. And then 
 to see the outlandish-looking mat sails for devil a boat 
 could you see belonging to them cutting across in all di- 
 rections, as if they wor taking a walk in the paddy fields ! 
 and the junks cocking up ahead and astern like nothing else 
 in the world, with eyes painted on their bows, because the 
 natural fools think they won't be able to see without them ! 
 Then, sir, there's the men with tails like cows, and the wo- 
 men with feet like dolls, and the children in the boats tied 
 to calabashes, to prevent their drowning. Why, bless ye, 
 sir, if ye couldn't swally what I told you before, all this '11 
 choke ye outright. Well, but to come, to my story agen. 
 I hates all this here traverse sailing; I must take a fresh 
 departure. The chief mate of the Prince Koyal, Mr Patti-
 
 112 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 son, was a riglar out-an-outer, a man as was well knowed 
 in the fleet, and was a favoryte with high and low; for he 
 was a sailor every inch of him, and knowed right well how 
 to keep persons and things in their places. He was a taut 
 hand, too; but none the worse for that, for your true sailor, 
 sir, loves an officer as is a real officer, and gives every man 
 his due, good or bad, without favour or affection one 
 knows what one has to trust to with such a man. He was 
 quite a pet with the crew, though he made them fly when- 
 ever he spoke to them; they were proud of old Charley, as 
 they called him, and of their ship and high kelter* she was 
 in. Well, sir, old Charley was taken ill then he got worse 
 ^then we heard he wasn't expected to live. There wasn't 
 a man or officer in the fleet but wor sorry for him; for them 
 as hadn't been shipmates with him knowed him by karac- 
 ter. Of coorse, sir, when the chief mate was in the doctor's 
 hands, and hove down to repair, the second did duty for 
 him. One day, when Charley was very ill, the second mate 
 came on deck, and seed the carpenter a-standing in the sun 
 without his hat on; so says he 
 
 " ' Mr Chips,* says he (the carpenters aboard them ships 
 were all warrant-officers, and so always had a handle put 
 to their names) ' Mr Chips, why are you standing in the 
 sun without your hat ? You'll be getting a stroke of the 
 sun.' 
 
 " ' Oh, sir,' said the carpenter, with a face as long as the 
 maintop-bowline, 'it's of little consequence; my time's al- 
 most up; I haven't much longer to live.' 
 
 " ' What do you mean 1 ' said the officer; ' what foolish 
 notion have you taken into yer head?' 
 
 " ' Oh, sir, it's no foolish notion; he told me so, and I 
 never knowed him deceive any one yet!' 
 
 "'Who told you so, Chips?' said the mate, kind and 
 soothing like; for he was afeerd that the sun really had 
 * Kelter order.
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELL'g. 113 
 
 got in at some little crack in his upper works; ' iv ho told 
 you so?' 
 
 " ' Mr Pattison himself told me so, sir, last night.' 
 
 "'Mr Pattison? Why, Chips, you're dreaming; he's re- 
 gularly hove down, can't stir hand or foot, poor fellow.' 
 
 " ' No matter, sir, he told me so; and if it wasn't him, it 
 was his ghost.' 
 
 " 'But how was this, and when?' 
 
 " 'Why, sir, as I was lying awake last night in my cot, I 
 saw Mr Pattison come into my cabin port. The cot shook 
 under me, I trembled so with fear, for I knew how ill he 
 was; but I thought that, while the fever was at its height, 
 he might have got up and wandered to my cabin without 
 knowing what he was about; so I mustered courage to say 
 to him, ' I am glad to see you on your legs again, sir.' He 
 shook his head mournfully, and said, 'I shall never rise 
 from my bed again; in two days' time my eyes will be 
 closed in death, and in three more you will follow me. He 
 then disappeared, and left me with a weight upon my heart 
 that will sink me to the grave.' 
 
 '"Oh, nonsense, Chips,' said the officer; 'don't let your 
 mind dwell upon it. You must have been asleep it was 
 nothing but a dream.' 
 
 " ' Dream or not, sir, I feel that I am a doomed man.' 
 
 '"Two days after this confab, yer honour, I saw the colours 
 of the Prince Eoyal slowly rise from the tafierel, as if they 
 didn't like the duty they were on; and then they hung 
 mournfully half-way between deck and the gaff-end: in 
 three minutes, every ship in the fleet had her colours hoisted 
 half-mast, that well-known signal that some officer has 
 struck his flag to death. Poor Charley was no more ! A 
 circular was sent from the commodore, to order two boats 
 from every ship in the fleet to attend the funeral and a 
 grand funeral it was. It was a beautiful sight to see the 
 procession, yer honour. There was the boat, with the coffin
 
 114 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 in the starn-sheets, covered with a union -jack; and the 
 mourners sitting on each side of it, towed by one of the 
 Prince's cutters; all her crew in mourning, with black crape 
 round their arms, and pulling minute-strokes. Then came 
 the Prince's launch, towed by another boat, full of the ship's 
 company, who had all asked leave to see the last of their 
 officer. Poor fellows ! sincere mourners I believe they were. 
 Then, sir, there was a long line of boats from each quarter 
 of the long-boat, all following in each other's wake, and 
 stretching from one end of the reach to the other. As soon 
 as the boat with the coffin in it shoved off from the Prince, 
 her bell began to toll slowly, and, as it passed the gangway 
 of the next ship, her bell took up the knell, and so on all 
 up the fleet. It was a beautiful sight, yer honour, to see 
 the long lines of boats, with their neat jacks fluttering half- 
 mast from the staffs; the men of each boat dressed alike; 
 some crews in blue jackets, ethers in white, but all with 
 the crape round their arms: then the flags of all the fleet 
 English, French, American, and Dutch waving, mournful- 
 like, half-mast high; not a sound to be heard, yer honour, 
 but the dull sound of the minute-strokes, and the fluttering 
 of the colours, and the long clear tones of the bells, as they 
 died away further and further up the fleet: oh, sir, it was 
 a sad and a beautiful sight ! He was buried, where all the 
 other English officers are buried, on French Island. Well, 
 yer honour, now comes the end of the business. Three days 
 afterwards I was quartermaster of the deck, and was stand- 
 ing on the foksle, when I see'd three boats a-passing, with 
 their jacks half-mast, and a coffin in the starn-sheets of the 
 foremost on 'em; so says I to Tom Eattlin, the captain of 
 the foksle "Tom," says I, "what boats is them?"" Tb 
 Prince's," says he; " I believe her carpenter is dead." An- 
 sure enough it was the carpenter, sir; the ghost didn't tea 
 him no lie; his signal for sailing was made at the veiy time 
 lie named. Now, sir, after that yarn, will you tell me that
 
 THE MEETING AT ST BOSWELI/S. 115 
 
 there are no such things as ghosts? It was my old ship- 
 mate, Bill Buntling, that told me; and, if all tales are true, 
 that's no lie.' 
 
 "There was no answering such a truism; so I thanked 
 the old man for his yarn, and giving him a stiff ner,* when 
 the watch was over, turned into my snug cot, little dream- 
 ing that I would ever repeat the story on the banks of the 
 Tay." 
 
 "Thank ye, Mr Douglas, for your 'yarn,'" said Alice, 
 "I really think you would make as good a 'spinner of 
 yarns,' as you call it, as old Rodney himself." 
 
 "What became of old Rodney, did you ever hear]" said 
 Sandford. 
 
 "Yes. He was lost from the Dundas Indiaman, poor 
 fellow ! some years ago. I used often to be talking of him 
 on board the Dolphin, and Captain Driver told me that he 
 knew the man, and that he had heard his fate. He went 
 out to put additional lashings on the sheet-anchor in a 
 heavy gale of wind, a sea struck the bow, and tore him 
 away while clasping the anchor in his arms. He was swept 
 twenty yards from the ship, poor fellow ! at once, and all 
 hopes of saving him were at an end. He was an excellent 
 swimmer, and was seen to take off his pea-jacket with the 
 greatest coolness, and, whenever he rose on the top of a sea, 
 he was seen waving his hat for assistance; at last he was 
 seen on the crest of a sea, but when it rose again Rodney 
 was gone " 
 
 "Where many a true heart has gone before him!" said 
 Sandford, as the ladies were rising to bid us good-night. 
 " How happy ought you and I to be, Douglas, enjoying all 
 the comforts of a cheerful home, while so many brave 
 fellows are exposed to all the storms and dangers of the 
 deep!" 
 
 I was happy; I had felt like a new man ever since my 
 * Strong glass of grog.
 
 116 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 visit to Perthshire; a gleam of sunshine had brightened the 
 dark and gloomy path of my life. I was no longer an 
 isolated being I had met with congenial hearts I con- 
 trasted with gratitude the present with the past, and looked 
 forward with hope to a calm and happy future. I have be- 
 fore spoken of my first impressions of Alice Sandford: I 
 soon learned to look upon her with feelings of warmer in- 
 terest than I had thought I would ever experience again 
 towards mortal being. I will not waste more words in en- 
 deavouring to describe the beauty of a face which, lovely as 
 it was, owed its principal charm to its sweet and amiable ex- 
 pression. That her countenance was a true index to her 
 heart, I have had well-tried experience; for Alice Sandford 
 has been the wife of my bosom for many years, and never, 
 in joy or in sorrow, has she given me a moment's cause to 
 repent of my choice. My friend Sandford (Grant, I should 
 call him) persuaded me to fix my quarters in a handsome 
 villa on his property; and I have ever since had reason to 
 be thankful to Providence for the happiness I have enjoyed, 
 and for the blessed chance that led to my meeting with my 
 friend in the barn at ST BOSWELL'S.
 
 THE STOKY OF MA i r CABLING. 117 
 
 THE STOEY OF MAY DAELING; 
 
 " Lay her i' the earth; 
 And from her pure and unpolluted flesh 
 May violets spring ! " HAMLET. 
 
 [T is a lovely spot, Grassyvale "beautiful exceedingly." 
 But its beauty is of a quiet, unimposing description; the 
 characteristic feature of the landscape which would strike 
 the eye of a spectator who surveyed it from the highest 
 neighbouring eminence, is simply repose. There are no 
 mountains, properly so called, within a circuit of many 
 miles none of those natural pyramids which, in various 
 parts of our beloved land of mountain and of flood, of battle 
 and of song, rise in majestic grandeur, like columns of ada- 
 mant to support the vault of heaven. The nearest are situ- 
 ated at such a distance that they appear like clouds, and 
 might readily be mistaken for such, but for their death- 
 like stillness, and the everlasting monotony of their outline. 
 No waterfalls hurl their bolts of liquid crystal into dark, 
 frowning, wave-worn chasms, which had echoed to the 
 thunder of their fall since the birth of time. There is no 
 far-spreading forest no yawning ravine, with "ebon shades 
 and low-browed rocks" no beetling cliff or precipice, 
 "shagged" with brushwood, as Milton hath it. There is 
 nothing of the grand, the sublime, the terrible, or the mag- 
 nificent there is only quiet; or, if the term do not sound 
 affected to " ears polite," modest, unassuming beauty, such 
 as a rainbow, were it perpetually present in the zenith, 
 might form a characteristic and appropriate symbol of. 
 Nature has not here wrought her miracles of beauty on a 
 Titanic scale. What, then, is so attractive about Grassy-
 
 118 TALES OF THE BORDERS 
 
 vale ? it will be asked. We are not sure but we may be as 
 much stultified with this question as was the child in 
 Wordsworth's sweet little poem, "We are Seven "(which 
 the reader may turn up at leisure, when the propriety of 
 the comparison will be seen), and may be forced, after an 
 unsuccessful attempt to justify ourselves for holding such 
 an opinion, to maintain, with the same dogmatic obstinacy, 
 it is beautiful. But the length of our story compels us to 
 exclude a description of the landscape which we had pre- 
 pared. 
 
 The village of Grassyvale, which is situated on the mar- 
 gin of a small stream, consists of about one hundred scat- 
 tered cottages, all neatly whitewashed, and most of them 
 adorned in front with some flowering shrub wild-briar, 
 honeysuckle, or the like whilst a " kail-yard " in the rear 
 constitutes no inappropriate appendage. There is one of 
 those dwellings conspicuous from the rest by its standing 
 apart from them, and by an additional air of comfort and 
 neatness which it wears, and which seems to hallow it like 
 a radiant atmosphere. It is literally covered with a net- 
 work of ivy, honeysuckle, and jasmine, the deep green of 
 whose unvarnished leaf renders more conspicuous "the 
 bright profusion of its scattered stars.", The windows are 
 literally darkened by a multitude of roses, which seem 
 clustering and crowding together to gain an entrance, and 
 scatter their "perfumed sweets" around the apartment. 
 Near the cottage, there is also a holly planted that ever- 
 green-tree which seems providentially designed by nature 
 to cheer the dreariness of winter, and, when all is withered 
 and desolate around, to remain a perpetual promise of 
 spring. But we have more to do with this beautiful little 
 dwelling than merely to describe its exterior. 
 
 Behind Grassyvale, the ground begins to swell, undulat- 
 ing into elevations of mild acclivity, on the highest of which 
 stands the parish church, like the ark resting on Ararat
 
 THE STORY OP MAY DARLING. 119 
 
 faith's triumph, and mercy's symbol. Numerous grassy 
 hillocks scattered around indicate the cemetery where " the 
 rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." Amongst those me- 
 morials which are designed to perpetuate the recollection of 
 virtue for a few generations and which, with their appro- 
 priate emblems and inscriptions, preach so eloquently to 
 the heart, and realise to the letter Shakspere's memorable 
 words, "sermons in stones" there is one which always at- 
 tracts attention. It is not a " storied urn, an animated bust" 
 one of those profusely decorated marble hatchments with 
 which worldly grandeur mourns, in pompous but vain mag- 
 nificence, over departed pride. No; it is only a small, un- 
 adorned slab of rather dingy-coloured freestone; and the 
 inscription is simply " To the memory of May Darling, 
 who was removed from this world to a better, at the early 
 age of nineteen. She was an affectionate daughter, a loving 
 sister, and a sincere Christian. 
 
 1 Weep not for her whose mortal race is o'er; 
 She is not lost, but only gone before.'" 
 
 Ah ! there are few, few indeed, for many miles round, who 
 would pass that humble grave without heaving a sigh or 
 shedding a tear for her who sleeps beneath her who was 
 so beloved, so admired by every one, as well as being the 
 idol and pride of her own family, and whose romantic and 
 untimely fate (cut off "i' the morn and liquid dew of 
 youth") was the village talk for many a day. 
 
 John Darling, the father of our heroine, was, what is no 
 great phenomenon amongst the peasantry of Scotland, a 
 sober, industrious, honest man. In early life he espoused 
 the daughter of an opulent farmer, whose marriage-portion 
 enabled him to commence life under very favourable aus- 
 pices. But, in spite of obedience to the natural laws, the 
 mildew of misfortune will blight our dearest hopes, how- 
 ever wisely our plans' 'or the future may be laid, and how- 
 ever assiduously and judiciously they may be pursued.
 
 120 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 Untoward circumstances, which it would unnecessarily pro- 
 tract our narrative to relate, had reduced him, at the period 
 to which our tale refers, to the condition of a field-labourer. 
 Death had likewise been busy singling out victims from 
 amongst those who surrounded his humble but cheerful 
 fireside; and of a large family there only remained three, 
 and he was a widower besides. May was the eldest; and, 
 accordingly, the superintendence of the household devolved 
 upon her. The deceased parent was of a somewhat haughty 
 and reserved turn of mind, for the recollection of former 
 affluence never forsook her; and this circumstance kept her 
 much aloof from the less polished and sophisticated matrons 
 of the village, and also rendered her a strict family discipli- 
 narian. She concentrated her mind almost entirely upon 
 the affairs of her own household; and her children were 
 accordingly watched with a more vigilant eye, and brought 
 up with more scrupulous care, than was usual with those 
 around her. It was her pride, and "let it be her praise," 
 to see them arrayed in more showy habiliments than those 
 worn by their associates; and, to accomplish this darling 
 object, what serious transmutation did her finery of former 
 days undergo, as the mutilated robes descended from child 
 to child, turned upside down, inside out, and otherwise 
 suffering a metamorphosis at every remove ! The dress of 
 May, in particular her first-born bud of bliss, the doated 
 on of her bosom was always attended to with special 
 care; nor was the cultivation of her mind in any way over- 
 looked. She very early inspired her with a love of reading, 
 which increased with the development of her faculties, and 
 many a day survived her by whom the passion had been 
 awakened. 
 
 In person, May was slender; but her light, airy, sylph- 
 like form was eminently handsome. Hair and eyes of in- 
 tense depth of black contrasted admirably with a counte- 
 nance which may be designated as transparent it was
 
 THE STOEY OP MAY DAELING. 121 
 
 nearly colourless; and only on occasions of unusual bodily 
 exertion, or when some mental emotion suffused the cheek 
 with a damask Mush, would a tint of rosy red fluctuate 
 over her pure skin. It can scarcely be called pale, how- 
 ever it had nothing about it of that death-in-life hue 
 which indicates the presence of disease. 
 
 " Oh, call it fair, not pale ! " 
 
 The expression was at once amiable and intellectual 
 mellowed or blended, however, with a pensiveness which is 
 usually, but most erroneously, called melancholy. Melan- 
 choly had nothing to do with a " mind at peace with all 
 below a heart wliose love was innocent." The counte- 
 nance, in general, affords an index of the mental character 
 it takes its "form and pressure," as it were, from the 
 predominant workings of that inward principle which is the 
 source of thought and feeling. It is there that thought and 
 feeling, those subtle essences, are made visible to the eye 
 it is there that mind may be seen. The most casual ob- 
 server could not fail to perceive that the soul which spoke 
 eloquently in the eye, "and sweetly lightened o'er the 
 face," of May Darling, was a worshipper of nature, of 
 poetry, and of virtue; for they are often combined they 
 have a natural relation to one another; and, when they 
 exist simultaneously in one individual, a mind so consti- 
 tuted has a capacity for enjoying the most exalted pleasure 
 of which humanity is susceptible. May Darling was indeed 
 imaginative and sanguine in a very high degree; and books 
 of a romantic or dramatic character were mines of " untold 
 wealth " to her. 
 
 "Many are poets who have never penn'd 
 Their inspirations." 
 
 And, although the name of this rural beauty, this humble 
 village maiden, will be looked for in vain in the rolls of 
 fame, she enjoyed hours of intense poetical inspiration. In
 
 122 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 short, both in her mental character and in the style of her 
 personal attractions, she rose far above her companions of 
 the village. Need it be told, that often, of a fine evening, 
 she would steal away from her gay, romping, laughing 
 associates, and, with a favourite author in her hand, and 
 wrapped in a vision of "sweet coming fancies," follow the 
 course of the stream which intersected her native vale, 
 flowing along, pure and noiseless, like the current of her 
 own existence 1 
 
 The favourite haunt in which she loved to spend her lei- 
 sure hours was a beautiful dell, distant about half-a-mile 
 from the village. It was a place so lonely, so lovely, so un- 
 disturbed, that there (but then all these fine old rural 
 deities, those idols shrined for ages in nature's own hal- 
 lowed Pantheon, have been expelled their temples, or broken 
 by science why should this be ?) there, if anywhere, the 
 genius of solitude might be supposed to have fixed her 
 abode. It was a broken piece of ground, intersected by 
 several irregular banks, here projecting in hoar and sterile 
 grandeur (not on an Alpine scale, however), and there clothed 
 with tufts of the feathery willow or old gnarled thorn. The 
 earth was carpeted with its usual covering of emerald turf; 
 and interwoven with it, in beautiful irregularity, were 
 numerous wild flowers the arum, with its speckled leaves 
 and lilac blossoms; the hyacinth, whose enamelled blue 
 looks so charmingly in the light of the setting sun; and 
 oxlips, cowslips, and the like throwing up their varie- 
 gated tufts, like nosegays presented by nature for some 
 gentle creature like May Darling to gather up and lay 
 upon her bosom. The air, of course, was permanently im- 
 pregnated with the perfume which they breathed out the 
 everlasting incensp. of the flowers rising from the altars of 
 nature to her God. Such was the sanctuary in which May 
 gleaned from books the golden thoughts of others, or held 
 communion wi$, her own; and well was it adapted for
 
 THE STORY OP MAY CABLING. 123 
 
 finrsing a romantic taste, and giving a tenderer tone to 
 every tender feeling. 
 
 The personal attractions of this sweet and lovely creature 
 increased with her years, and she became the reigning belle 
 of Grassy vale and all the country round. It followed, as a 
 matter of course, that her admirers outnumbered her years; 
 and that the possession of her affections was, with many a 
 rustic Adonis, a subject which troubled the little kingdom 
 of the soul, like the Babylonish garment. At every village 
 fete a wedding, a harvest-home, or other rural festival 
 hers was the step most buoyant in the dance, hers the hand 
 most frequently solicited, hers the form and face that riveted 
 all eyes, and thrilled the heart of the ardent admirer " too 
 much adoring." Amongst the other accomplishments of 
 our heroine, skill in music was not the least prominent. 
 Not that she excelled in those intricate graces which are 
 often had recourse to by vocalists to conceal a bad voice, 
 and atone for want of feeling and expression; but her 
 " wood-note wild " was eminently characterised by the 
 latter qualities of singing; and the effect which she pro- 
 duced was accordingly calculated to be lasting. 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that the flattering 
 unction of adulation, at best like the love of Kaled to Lara, 
 "but half-concealed," had any pernicious influence over 
 her mind. She was neither puffed up with vain conceit, 
 nor display of haughty reserve and distance towards those 
 who numbered fewer worshippers than herself; still humi- 
 lity of heart, which was "native there, and to the manner 
 bora," characterised her deportment; nor was there any 
 relaxation in the discharge of the household duties which 
 devolved upon her; and the comfort of her father, and the 
 proper care and culture of the younger branches of the 
 family, were as faithfully attended to as if her deformity, 
 instead of her beauty, had been proverbial. She folded the 
 little flutterers under her wing, like a mother bird; and, if
 
 124 TALES OP THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 there was one thing more than another that she took de- 
 light in, it was the training of their young minds to the 
 love and practice of virtue and religion the only fountains 
 whence happiness, pure and uncontaminated, can be drawn 
 in this life. 
 
 " So pass'cl their life a clear united stream, 1 
 33y care unruffled; till, in evil hour " 
 
 But we anticipate. 
 
 It was on a fine summer morning that May, with one of 
 her little sisters, set out to visit the annual fair of the 
 county town. Such an event naturally excites considerable 
 interest over all the country round; and old and young, 
 blind and cripple, male and female, pour along the public 
 ways^-not in "weary" but in lighthearted "droves" full 
 of eagerness and expectation, like the Jews to the Pool of 
 Bethesda, when the angel was expected to make his annual 
 descent, and impart a healing virtue to- its waters; for 
 there there is to be found variety of amusement for every 
 mind from the Katerfelto wonderer, "wondering for his 
 bread," down to the more humble establishment of the 
 halfpenny showman, with his "glorious victory of Water- 
 loo," his "golden beetle," or "ashes from the burning moun- 
 tains." But, on the occasion to which we refer, there was 
 an exhibition in the shape of a theatrical booth, which pre- 
 sented extraordinary attractions for May Darling; and, ac- 
 cordingly, after deliberately balancing the gratification which 
 she anticipated with the expense which it would cost (her 
 exchequer was, of course, not very rich), she at length found 
 herself comfortably seated near the front of the stage. The 
 tragedy of " George Barnwell" was going off with prodigious 
 eclat; and the performers had arrived at that scene where 
 the hero is about to assassinate his uncle, when the insecure 
 props that supported the gallery began to indicate a dis- 
 position to disencumber themselves of their burden, and at 
 Vist finally gave way. The confusion which now ensued,
 
 THE STOEY OF MAY DARLING. 125 
 
 not to mention the shrieks and other vocal notes of terror 
 and dismay, it is needless to describe these have nothing 
 to do with our tale. Barnwell, instead of imbruing his 
 hands in innocent blood, even " in jest," became the most 
 active agent in rescuing his hapless audience from, their 
 perilous situation. He was a tall, handsome young man, 
 of a very prepossessing exterior, and appeared to great ad- 
 vantage in his showy stage habiliments. The general rush 
 was towards the door, the most likely avenue of escape 
 which presented itself to the astonished rustics; but a few, 
 amongst whom was our heroine, with more collected judg- 
 ment and presence of mind, found a place of security on 
 the stage. May was slightly bruised in her endeavours to 
 shelter her young charge; and, although not much injured, 
 her forlorn yet interesting appearance drew the attention 
 of the histrionic Samaritan, and he kindly conducted her 
 into the back settlements of the theatre. The affair was 
 not of such a serious nature as might have been anticipated. 
 A few dilapidated seats, and a score or two of trifling con- 
 tusions, made up the sum total of the damage. A hat or 
 two might have changed owners in the confusion; but these 
 are things beneath the dignity of a tragedian to look after; 
 and, as soon as matters were adjusted on the grand theatre 
 of commotion, he returned to the object of his first solicitude. 
 She was seated on a stool in what was dignified with the 
 sounding appellation of a green-room looking paler, and 
 lovelier, and more loveable than ever. He quieted her ap- 
 prehensions with respect to the catastrophe; for he was an 
 adept in the art of imitation, and politely requested the 
 honour of conducting her to her place of residence. It is 
 not difficult to conceive what was the first impression which 
 the request made upon the mind of May Darling; but the 
 scruples of modest, virgin innocence yielded at last to the 
 ^aportunities of the actor, and they left the scene of mirth 
 and! confusion together.
 
 126 IALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 On their journey homewards, the conversation naturally 
 turned upon the drama; and many a fine passage, which 
 May admired, was recited to her with all the eloquence and 
 stage artifice which the actor was master of. And he 
 would speak feelingly of " the gentle lady married to the 
 Moor" her love the love of Desdemona, pure, exalted, 
 all-enduring, such as death alone could quench her wo and 
 her fate, so replete with all that can agonise the human 
 soul, and awaken its profoundest sympathies; of Ophe- 
 lia " the fair Ophelia," the young, the beautiful, and the 
 gentle her devoted, child-like affection, her mournful dis- 
 traction, and her untimely doom; of Miranda, the island 
 bride the being of enchantment half-earthly, half-hea- 
 venly around whom the spirits of the air hovered, and 
 ministered unto as vassals; of Imogen, the fair and faith- 
 ful the patient, long-suffering, and finally fortunate Imo- 
 gen; of Cordelia she of the seraph-spirit, pure and peace- 
 fulwhose love for a father surpassed that of the Roman 
 daughter; of Perdita, "the prettiest low-born lass that 
 ever ran on the greensward" the shepherdess and the 
 princess; of Juliet the martyr of passion she who drew 
 poison from earth's sweetest flower, love, and died thereby; 
 by love's own flame " kindled she was and blasted." These, 
 and many other creations of fancy, which omnipotent genius 
 has rendered almost real historical personages not shadow, 
 but substance were the topics of discourse which were 
 handled by our hero of the buskin, until the cottage of John 
 Darling was reached. From the description which has been 
 given of May's character, it need be no matter of surprise 
 that the impression made upon her gentle bosom was pro- 
 found; and, on taking leave of her, a request on the part of 
 Mr Henry Wilkinson (such was the tragedian's name) to be 
 permitted to visit her on some future occasion, made under 
 cover of a pretext to inquire after the state of her health, 
 was acceded to. Again and again Mr Wilkinson visited the
 
 THE STORY OF MAY DAELING. 127 
 
 cottage, and poured into the ear of the humble, unsuspect- 
 ing, and happy inmate many a story of love, and hope, and 
 joy such as his knowledge of the drama, which was great, 
 supplied him with. 
 
 " These things to hear 
 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline; 
 
 But still the house affairs would draw her thence; 
 
 Which ever as she could with haste despatch 
 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 
 Devour up his discourse." 
 
 Substitute the name of May Darling for that of Desde- 
 mona, and the description becomes perfect of our heroine's 
 situation, whilst the result was similar: in a short time, the 
 happiness of our village maiden was entirely at the disposal 
 of Mr Wilkinson. Hitherto her heart had slept, like some 
 untroubled lake, reflecting only heaven, and nature grand 
 and beautiful around; but now its waters were darkened 
 and disturbed by one single image and that was her lover's. 
 Her ears were no longer open to the murmurs of her native 
 stream, or the gush of song of the fairy-winged and fairy- 
 plumaged birds, whom she almost knew one from another: 
 she only heard the music of her lover's voice. Her secluded 
 dell was no longer visited alone: her walks were no longer 
 solitary, or, if they were, it was only to meet him whom her 
 heart loved, and to see if his speed "kept pace with her ex- 
 pectancy." Everything was beheld through one all-hallow- 
 ing atmosphere and that was love. It lay upon her soul 
 like the shadow on the sundial, and time was measured by 
 it. How, it will be asked, was all this looked upon by her 
 father? With no favourable eye nay, with many suspi- 
 cious forebodings and prophetic fears. 
 
 It was about three months after the catastrophe which 
 took place in the provincial theatre, that Mr Wilkinson 
 made proposals of a union to May, which, being accepted, 
 the consent of her parent was next applied for. The ad-
 
 128 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 vances of the actor were for a time checked by an uncom- 
 promising refusal; but May's father gradually became less 
 peremptory, until there remained only one objection, but 
 that was insurmountable namely, the profession of Mr 
 Wilkinson one, in general, very obnoxious to a Scottish 
 peasant. It was, however, finally obviated, by the actor's 
 promising to abandon it, and become a teacher of elocution 
 
 in the town of H . The father's consent was obtained 
 
 at last, though with reluctance, and the clay of their nuptials 
 was fixed. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening, that which preceded the day 
 when May Darling was to give her hand to the man for 
 whom her heart cherished a love as deep, intense, and con- 
 centrated, as ever was awakened and nursed in woman's 
 gentle bosom. The sun just sinking through those vast 
 masses of clouds which usually attend his exit, and assume, 
 as he descends, various wild and fantastical shapes, and 
 catch every hue, from the intense purple to the scarcely per- 
 ceptible yellow showered on the face of nature a stream of 
 rich but mellowed radiance, which softened without obliterat- 
 ing the outlines of objects, and produced that "clear ob- 
 scure, so softly dark, so darkly pure," which is so favourable 
 to indulgence in tender emotions. 
 
 " Sweet Lour that wakes the wish and melts the heart ! " 
 sweet hour, when reflection is deepest and feeling most pro- 
 found when the mind, abroad all day, busied with the con- 
 cerns of this work-a-day world, comes home to itself, and 
 broods, and sleeps, and dreams golden dreams sunny, 
 hope-illumined dreams ! sweet hour, when the ties of social 
 being which the day had severed are reunited, and around 
 the household hearth the " old familiar faces " are assem- 
 bled! sweet hour, when the shades of evening, gradually 
 deepening, are sufficient to conceal the blush which might 
 mantle beauty's cheek, too warmly, fondly pressed, as, in a 
 voice half-sighs, half-whisuers, she confesses the secret of
 
 THE STORY OP MAY DARLING. 129 
 
 lier love; and when, in the arms which gently enfold her 
 yielding form, she seems, in the fine language of Kogers, to 
 become less and less earthly, 
 
 " And fades at last into a spirit from heaven ! " 
 
 'Twas at this enchanting hour that Wilkinson and his be- 
 trothed set out on one of those charming walks during which 
 they had so often exchanged vows of mutual and eternal 
 love. The road which they at first took was sufficiently 
 retired to admit of their conversing aloud with unreserved 
 confidence; but, continuing their journey, unconscious where 
 they were going, they- found themselves at last in the vicinity 
 
 of the high road which leads to the town of H . Turning 
 
 to strike down a narrow hedgerow path, a moving spectacle 
 presented itself to their observation. Upon a grassy knoll 
 lay a female fast asleep, with a child at her breast, vainly 
 attempting to force its little fingers within the folds of the 
 handkerchief which concealed the bosom of its mother. May 
 uttered a faint exclamation, somewhat between pity and 
 fear; for she was taken by surprise. But her lover's asto- 
 nishment was still greater than hers; for, after he had con- 
 templated the careworn features of the wayfarer, he started, 
 and, had not the increasing gloom of evening prevented any 
 change of countenance from being perceptible, May might 
 have seen his face turn ashy pale; but she felt the arm in 
 which hers was fondly locked tremble distinctly. 
 
 " This touches your feelings, Henry," said May; " but can 
 we not, love, do something to alleviate the sufferings of this, 
 no doubt, unfortunate female? Had I not better awake 
 her, and conduct her to my father's, where refreshment and 
 rest can be procured?" 
 
 "Nay, dearest love," said Wilkinson; "sleep is to the 
 wretched the greatest boon that can be bestowed: let us 
 leave her alone, nor deprive her of the only comfort which, 
 possibly, she is capable of enjoying." 
 
 So saying, he hastily retired, bearing May, somewhat re- 
 
 VOL. X. E
 
 130 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 luctantly, homewards; for her sympathy was much excited, 
 and she would fain have carried her generous purpose into 
 effect; but gave way to the entreaties of her lover, who had 
 some miles to walk ere he could reach his place of residence. 
 After seeing May safely beneath the domestic roof, Wilkin- 
 son bade farewell for the night to his betrothed bride, and 
 took his departure, with the intention, he said, of imme- 
 diately returning to H . He did not proceed directly 
 
 home, however; but, making a retrograde movement, he fell 
 back upon the place where the fatigued traveller had been 
 seen. She was gone when he arrived; and whether the cir- 
 cumstance gave him pleasure or the reverse, we have never 
 been able to ascertain; but, at all events, he now set out in 
 good earnest for H : What should have interested Wil- 
 kinson so much in this apparently wandering mendicant? 
 Paciema. 
 
 On the evening which we have described, let the reader 
 picture to himself two aged crones, comfortably seated upon 
 a rough slab of wood, elevated two feet or so above the 
 ground, by a massive block of granite which supported 
 either end. This, together with the cottage wall against 
 which their backs reclined, might, even with individuals 
 more fastidious than its present occupants, have appeared a 
 luxury little inferior to a sofa, especially in that bland and 
 beautiful hour when daylight dies along the hills, and our 
 feelings, partaking of the softness of the scene and hour, 
 dispose us to be pleased, we ask not why, and care not 
 wherefore. On either hand was situated a door, over which 
 hung suspended a very homely signboard. From one of 
 these the wayfarer might learn that good entertainment 
 for man and beast could be supplied within, by Janet Baird, 
 who, it appeared, was, by special permission of government, 
 permitted to retail spirits, porter, ale, and other items. Lest 
 any mistake should occur as to the nature of the invitation 
 (or perhaps it was a ruse to provoke the alimentary facul-
 
 THE STORY OP MAY DARLING. 131 
 
 ties), there was a painting of the interior, representing a 
 table, which seemed to groan under the weight of bottles, 
 glasses, porter and ale cans, bread, cheese, and what not; 
 whilst two jolly companions, with rubicund faces, where 
 an infinity of good-nature predominated, sat round it, each 
 with a cup in hand, and both evidently sublimed by their 
 potations far above this " dirty planet, the earth." At the 
 entrance to the "apartment was seen the landlady, who with 
 one hand pushed open the door, whilst the other, project- 
 ing forwards, supported a huge tankard, charged with the 
 favourite beverage, which mantled or effloresced at the top 
 like a cauliflower. The neighbouring sign had fewer attrac- 
 tions for the weary traveller or the droughty villager, throw- 
 ing out merely hints as to the condition of the reader's linen, 
 by intimating that clothes might here undergo purification, 
 and be mangled by the hour or peace (such was the ortho- 
 graphy) by Nelly Gray. 
 
 The two neighbours lived on terms of the utmost har- 
 mony; for there was no rivalry of interests. Their callings 
 were antipodes to each other one being devoted to the de- 
 coration and comfortable appearance of the human exterior, 
 whilst the other took special cognisance of the internal con- 
 dition of the animal economy. They, of course, carried on 
 a mutual traffic; but it was on the primitive principle of 
 barter the weekly account for washing and dressing which 
 Janet owed being duly balanced by her accommodating Nelly 
 with a certain potent nostrum, which we shall not name, 
 but merely describe as a sovereign remedy for aching bones 
 and pains, and other complaints of the stomach, to which 
 this petticoat Diogenes (for she likewise practised in a tub) 
 was very subject, especially after washing a whole day, or 
 impelling her crazy, creaking machine for the same space 
 of time. It was their invariable practice to spend an hour 
 or two every evening in what is termed in the vernacular a 
 " twa-handed crack," either seated out-doors, or snugly im-
 
 132 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 mured in Janet's back parlour a small dark room, encum- 
 bered with sundry articles of retail. The subject of their 
 conversation, on the present occasion, will immediately be- 
 come apparent. 
 
 "They say he's gaun to learn folk ellykeashun," said 
 Janet, in reference to May's lover. 
 
 "And what's that, Janet?" asked the other. 
 
 " Ne'er a bit o' me kens very weel," rejoined Janet; " but 
 I'm thinkin it's the way the gentry speak, eghin and owin, 
 and sichin and sabbin, and makin yer voice gang up and 
 doun, like daft Jock playin on the fife." 
 
 "Ay! ay! that's an idle kind o' way o' makin ane'a 
 bread," sighed Nelly. "It's naething else than beggin. 
 He'd better pit a nappin-hammer in his hand, and tak the 
 roadside for an honest livelihood." 
 
 " 'Deed, Nelly, it's my opinion he's been on the road be- 
 fore, followin anither trade," said Janet. "I'm sair mis- 
 taen if he's no a hempie; and we'll maybe hear mair aboot 
 him yet than some folks wad like to ken o'. I never liked 
 your land-loupers and spoutin gentry a' my days. They're 
 nae better than tinklers, that carry aff whatever they lay 
 their hands on, nae matter whether it's beast or body. It 
 cowes the gowan hoo sae sensible a man as John Darling 
 wad e'er hae looten his dochter tak up wi' sic-like clam- 
 jamphrey. But he was aye owre easy wi' his family, and 
 gied them owre muckle o' their ain wull frae the first. But 
 the mother was sair to blame in pittin sic daft-like notions 
 intil a bairn's head as to read playactorin books and novels. 
 Wae am I to say sae, noo that she's whar the Lord wull." 
 
 "Is't true, Janet, that they're to be coupled i' the kirk?" 
 asked Nelly. " They say the minister's taen an unco likin 
 to the lad; and, to mak things look as genteel as possible, 
 he's offered the use o' the kirk for marryin them in; and's 
 to gie them a ploy forbye, after it's a' owre." 
 
 "Guid faith, it's a true sayin, 'The fat sow gets a' the
 
 THE STOKY OF MAY DAELING. 133 
 
 draff",' " rejoined Janet. "It wad be lang or he did a turn 
 like that for ony puir body like oorsels. The birkie doesna 
 stand in need o' cash; for he gies saxpence to this ane, and 
 a shillin to the tither ane, for gangin errans. He micht 
 hae provided something for the waddin folks doun at 
 Michael Crummie's, whase tred's no sae brisk noo, sin' that 
 kick-up wi' him and the mason-lodge folk, wha swore he 
 gied them up ill whusky and that was maybe nae lee. 
 He ne'er, since ever I mind, keepit the real stuff, like that 
 o' mine. But see, Nelly, whatna puir, waebegone-lookin 
 cratur's that comin alang the road, scarcely able to trail 
 ae leg after anither ? and a bairn, too, help us a' ! " 
 
 The object which drew the attention of the honest ale- 
 wife was, as the reader may have already sagaciously con- 
 jectured, the same forlorn being whom May Darling and 
 her lover had accidentally encountered. With a slow and 
 faltering step she approached the village dames, and in- 
 quired of them how far it was from the town of H . 
 
 "Five miles guid," said Janet Baird, and continued 
 "But ye'll no think o' gaun there the nicht; it's gettin 
 dark, and ye've mair need o' a while's rest; and maybe ye 
 wadna be the waur o' something to support nature; for, 
 wae's me ! ye do look thin and hungert like ! Tak her in 
 by, Nelly, and I'll fetch her some cordial, as weel as a 
 morsel to eat." 
 
 So saying, she proceeded to her shop, for the purpose of 
 making good her word, whilst Nelly followed up that part 
 of the duty of relieving the stranger which devolved upon 
 her, and conducted the " wearied one " into the interior of 
 her humble domicile. 
 
 " Ye'll hae travelled a gey bit the day, na, I sudna won- 
 der?" said Nelly. 
 
 "Yes," said the stranger, whom we shall now designate 
 
 as Mrs B . "Since morning I have prosecuted my 
 
 journey with all the speed which want and weariness
 
 134 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 would permit of. But these were nothing, did I only know 
 how it was to terminate." 
 
 Meantime Janet had returned, bearing in her apron an 
 ample stock of provisions; and, having heard the latter part 
 
 of Mrs B 's reply to Nelly, her curiosity was not a little 
 
 excited to know something of her history. This she set 
 about with the characteristic pawldness (there is no purely 
 English word sufficiently expressive) of the Scotch that 
 style of speaking which is half-asking, half-answering a 
 question; and she was successful in her endeavours. 
 
 "It'll be the guidman that ye're gaun to meet at H ?" 
 
 said Janet. "He'll be in the manufacturing line, nae doot; 
 for there's little else dune there; and, indeed, that itsel has 
 faun sair aff sin' that dirt o' machinery was brocht in to 
 tak the bread oot o' the puir man's mou." 
 
 " Yes no; he is not in that line, nor do I know, indeed, if 
 he is to be found there at all. But but excuse me, kind 
 friends, for showing a little reserve touching one who " 
 
 Here, however, her feelings overcame her; and, turning 
 round to gaze on the helpless being that clung to her bosom, 
 tears from her suffused eyes began to find a ready passage 
 down her pale emaciated cheek a channel with which they 
 appeared to be familiar. 
 
 " He never saw thee, my little Henry, my sweet boy ! 
 Methinks, that cherub smile of innocence which lies upon 
 that countenance would be powerful enough to melt the 
 
 icy feelings of his soul, and recall . Pardon me, kind 
 
 friends," she continued; " but the name of husband is asso- 
 ciated in my mind with all that human nature can suffer of 
 unmitigated, hopeless wretchedness. You see before you 
 the victim of . But you shall hear all." 
 
 She then commenced her history, recounting every circum- 
 stance of a tale of misery but too common. As it is in some 
 measure connected with that of May Darling, we shall give 
 <a few of its leading facts.
 
 THE STOKY OF MAY DARLINO. 135 
 
 She was the daughter of a respectable farmer in the north 
 of England, and, being an only child, received an accom- 
 plished education; and, from her engaging manners, per- 
 sonal attractions, and skill in music, she was much courted, 
 even by those who moved in the higher circles. At the 
 
 house of a neighbouring clergyman, Mr G , she was a 
 
 very frequent visiter; and her charms captivated the heart 
 
 of Dr G , a young medical gentleman, and the nephew 
 
 of the clergyman. On her part, however, there was no at- 
 tachment, although the ardour with which Dr G pressed 
 
 his suit might have captivated a bosom less stubborn than 
 hers. But another idol was shrined and secretly worshipped 
 there. This was a Mr Henry Bolton, a fellow-student of 
 
 Dr G 's, who, in calling at the house of Mr G to 
 
 see his friend the doctor, was induced to spend a few days 
 with him. His stay was protracted to weeks, months in 
 short, till the farmer's daughter and he, having come to an 
 understanding with respect to the all-important matter of 
 love, agreed to join hands for better, for worse. The mar- 
 riage took place at a neighbouring town, where the couple 
 remained for several months, living in a state of great pri- 
 vacy, for no one was in the secret of their union, not even 
 the lady's father. The finances of Mr Bolton became ex- 
 hausted; and a letter from his father having shut out all 
 hope of succour from that quarter, he was thrown into a 
 state of extreme dejection. His temper soured, and harsh- 
 ness towards his wife soon followed; for an application on 
 her part to her father, to whom she was compelled by neces- 
 sity to reveal her situation, met with a reception similar to 
 the other. One day, he dressed himself with more than 
 usual care, packed up in a small parcel the principal part of 
 his body-clothes, and having told his wife that he meant to 
 
 go as far as , naming a considerable town, which was 
 
 situated at some miles distance, parted from her, like Ajut 
 in " The Rambler." never to return. The sun arose and set,
 
 136 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 and arose again and again, and week after week, but still ha 
 came not; nor was she ever able to obtain the faintest trace 
 of him. Her health began to droop, and, in the depth of 
 her humiliation and misery, like the prodigal of old, she was 
 compelled to seek for shelter under the paternal roof. Her 
 father received her even with kindness; for time, the softener 
 of affliction, the soother of wrath, had not passed over his 
 head without exercising its due influence upon his feelings. 
 Here she gave birth to a child, the baby which now lay at 
 her breast. Time passed away, and still no intelligence of 
 k^5 runaway husband reached her, till, "about a week back," 
 s&e said, " communication was made me by letter, that, if I 
 
 would repair to the town of H , I would hear something 
 
 of my lost husband. Without the knowledge of my father, 
 I have undertaken the journey; and God alone knows 
 whether the information, so mysteriously conveyed to me, 
 be true or false whether my hopes will be disappointed or 
 realised. A few hours, however, will be sufficient to set my 
 mind at rest. I have wearied you, I fear; but my present 
 wretched appearance required some explanation on my part 
 for, oh, it is difficult to lie under the suspicion of being a 
 vagrant or vagabond, as Heaven knows I am neither." And, 
 clasping her hands and raising her eyes, she remained for 
 a few minutes in that reverential but death-like attitude 
 which is assumed when a human soul prays in agony. 
 
 Her painful narrative had its due influence upon the minds 
 of those to whom it was addressed; and, although both ad- 
 mitted the propriety of proceeding to the town of H , 
 
 yet they earnestly exhorted her to remain with them for a 
 night; and to this proposal she acceded. After breakfast 
 
 next morning, Mrs B (who must now be looked upon as 
 
 one of the principal of our dramatis personal) set out for the 
 
 town of H . What the nature of her reflections were, 
 
 as she drew near the termination of her journey, may be 
 readily conceived; but of their intensity, no idea can be
 
 THB STORY OP MAT DARLING. 137 
 
 formed by any one except by the brokenhearted female who 
 has passed through the same fiery ordeal of desertion and 
 despair. She had arrived within a short distance of the 
 town, when a chaise, driving rapidly down the principal en- 
 trance to it, attracted her attention. It approached, and from 
 the favours which profusely adorned the driver, his teem, 
 and his vehicle, it was evident that some happy pair were 
 destined soon to become its occupants. The blinds were all 
 drawn up; but, as the chaise passed her, one of them was 
 partially let down, and she heard some one from within in- 
 struct the driver to proceed to the manse by a road more 
 retired than that usually taken. There was something in 
 the tone of the voice (though indistinctly heard from the 
 rattling of the wheels) which startled Mrs B from a re- 
 verie in which she had been indulging, and made every fibre 
 of her body to thrill, as if an electric discharge had shot 
 through it. In mute astonishment, not unmingled with 
 thick-coming fancies, horrible forebodings, which, without 
 assuming any definite form, were prophetic of wo, she fixed 
 her eyes upon the retiring vehicle, and, rooted to the spot 
 where she stood, motionless as a Mobe of stone, gazed and 
 gazed till her eyeballs ached. " Can it be?" she at last ex- 
 claimed, with wild emotion " can it be ? No no 'tis but 
 fancy; yet the place! gracious powers!" Her eyes con- 
 tinued to follow the retiring wheels, fixed upon them she 
 knew not by what mysterious power; and long she might 
 have remained in this position, had not some person from 
 behind softly addressed her. She turned round, and her 
 eyes fell upon her former suitor, Dr G . Let her as- 
 tonishment be imagined we will not attempt to give words 
 to her feelings. 
 
 " It is to you, then," she said, after recovering from her 
 
 surprise" it is to you, Dr G , that I am indebted for 
 
 information regarding my lost husband." 
 
 "It is," he replied; "but not a moment is to be Iot
 
 138 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 Tilings are in a worse condition than they were when I de- 
 spatched my letter to you. But let us proceed instantly to 
 Grassy vale. On the way I will inform you of all that has 
 come to my knowledge regarding that monster it were a 
 profanation of language to call him husband." 
 
 So saying, they commenced their journey, which we shall 
 leave them to prosecute whilst we bring up some parts of 
 our narrative which have been necessarily left in the rear. 
 
 We need hardly say that the morning of her marriage 
 was an anxious and a busy one to May Darling. It is true 
 that she had plenty of assistance afforded her by the village 
 matrons, and by a few youthful associates, whom she had 
 singled out as especial favourites, from amongst many who 
 were regarded by her with affection. , But still a fastidious- 
 ness of taste always seizes people on those occasions when 
 they are desirous of appearing to the best advantage. Be- 
 sides, when there are a number of lady's-maids, all busily 
 engaged in decorating a single individual, a difference of 
 opinion relative to the various items of dress always takes 
 place, and occasions much delay. One of them is clear that 
 such and such a colour of riband will best suit the com- 
 plexion of the wearer; another holds out strongly for an op- 
 posite hue; and a third silences them both by asserting that 
 neither answer the colour of the bonnet. What sort of 
 flowers would most fittingly ornament the hair was also a 
 subject of protracted debate; and half-an-hour was wasted 
 in determining whether the riband which was to circle her 
 waist like a zone should hang down or not. Matters, how- 
 ever, were at last adjusted the bride was arrayed, the 
 hour of twelve was struck by a small wooden clock which 
 ticked behind the door; and with the hour there arrived at 
 the cottage a sort of rude palanquin, fashioned of birch-tree 
 boughs, which intertwisted with each other, and were inter- 
 woven with branches of flowering shrubs; and upon this 
 some of the kindest and blithest-hearted of the villagers
 
 *xiE STOKY OF MAY DARLING. 139 
 
 had agreed to bear May to the kirk. Some modest scruples 
 required to be overcome before she would be induced to 
 avail herself of this mode of conveyance; and, after being 
 seated, with the bridesmaid walking on one side, and John 
 Darling on the other, the cavalcade began to move. Many 
 hearty good wishes for the happiness of the bride from the 
 elder people, and many joyous shouts from the younger 
 part of the villagers, greeted the ears of the marriage party; 
 whilst a pretty long train which drew itself out in the rear, 
 sent up its rejoicings on the wind from a distance. But 
 one step must bring us to the altar of Hymen. Side by 
 side stood the bridegroom and the bride; and a more in- 
 teresting, handsome, and apparently well -matched pair, 
 never were seen in the same situation, as we are informed 
 by the clergyman who officiated on the occasion*. The cere- 
 mony proceeded with due formality one moment more 
 would have joined their hands, when a person who had 
 just entered the church called to the clergyman to stay the 
 nuptials; and, at the same moment, a shriek from a female 
 who had entered along with him, rose so wild, thrilling, 
 and distracted, that every bosom shook beneath its glitter- 
 ing attire. 
 
 " Base, inhuman miscreant !" shouted Dr G , address- 
 ing himself to Wilkinson (which name must now be sup- 
 planted by his real one, Bolton), at the same time rushing 
 forward to seize the bridegroom. 
 
 He, however, had ere this dropped the hand of May Dar- 
 ling that hand which, till now, like Desdemona's, had 
 " felt no age, nor known no sorrow " and, unsheathing a 
 dagger which was concealed about his person (doubtless one 
 of his theatrical weapons), he threatened to make a ghost of 
 any one who disputed his retreat from the church. His 
 menacing attitude and wild gesticulations terrified every be- 
 holder, and even Dr G gave way, allowing him unmo- 
 lested to quit the sacred place which he was about to pro-
 
 140 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 fane, and possibly might have stained with blood. Only 
 one attempted to arrest him, and for a short time suc- 
 ceeded. It was his wife she who the night previously had 
 kindled up in his soul the fires of conscience, as she lay 
 asleep, unsheltered save by heaven's blue canopy, and ap- 
 parently an abandoned outcast. 
 
 " Henry," she said, holding up their child, and stretching 
 forth her arms " Henry, look on this dear pledge of our 
 affection, the child of love, though bom in bitterness and 
 tears, the offspring of your choice look on him, Henry, 
 and let the voice of conscience in your breast, which must 
 be heard now or hereafter, plead in his behalf. The help- 
 less darling innocent of what crime has he been guilty, 
 that his natural protector should cast him forth to meet the 
 buffetings of fate without a shield that he should be 
 launched upon the sea of life without an oar? If not for 
 my sake, at least for the sake of little Henry for he bears 
 your name restore us both to honour and society, by re- 
 turning to the path of duty. The arms that have so often 
 embraced you will again encircle the neck to which they 
 have clung so often and so fondly. Henry, Henry ! re- 
 flect for an instant on my destitute outcast condition 
 without you, I am a weed cast from the rock, to be driven 
 whithersoever the storm sets wildest. Think what my suf- 
 ferings have been and must be ! God alone can estimate 
 them. Henry, hear me. Stay but one instant Henry, 
 Henry!" And, taking her child in one arm, she stretched 
 out the other to detain him; but the heartless villain shook 
 her rudely from him, and darted from the church. 
 
 What were May Darling's feelings during this heartrend- 
 ing scene 1 She was not a spectator of it. The moment 
 that the dreadful truth flashed upon her mind, she sank 
 into the arms of her father, dead to consciousness and time. 
 By the same conveyance which had brought her in triumph 
 to the church, covered with the insignia of happiness, and
 
 THE STOEY Of MAY DAELIKG. 141 
 
 palpitating with rapture almost too intense for the human 
 soul to enjoy for any length of time without experiencing 
 pain and a revolution of feeling by that same conveyance, 
 not an hour after, she was borne to her father's cottage, a 
 wretched, but a gentle maniac. 
 
 Days, weeks, months, passed away, and she remained the 
 same listless, mild, and inoffensive creature a baby- woman, 
 a human being ripe in years, and an infant in thought, feel- 
 ing, and everything mental. 'Tis painful to contemplate 
 the situation of an individual overwhelmed by such a cala- 
 mity under any circumstances; but, under the present, how 
 terrible indeed ! To be struck down at the altar, arrayed in 
 bridal robes, and with all her hopes blooming around her 
 how does it humble human pride, set at nought all calcula- 
 tions of human happiness, and assign narrow limits to hu- 
 man hope ! And yet there was mercy in the dispensation. 
 Better unconscious almost of existence itself, than alive to 
 all the horrors of a doom like that of May Darling. Better 
 the vacant stare, and the look of silent indifference on all 
 beneath the sun, than the wild gesticulations of violent 
 grief, the shriek of wo, or the agony of despair, for the al- 
 leviation of which "hope never conies that comes to all." 
 
 Every means were had recourse to for rousing her from 
 the dismal trance into which she had fallen, to dispel from 
 her thoughts the gloomy, the dead images by which they 
 were haunted but in vain. Sometimes she would sit 
 amongst her gay companions; and, whilst they, laughed, 
 chatted, and sung, as in former happy days, a faint smile 
 would rekindle about her lips, so rosy once, so wan and 
 withered now, and for a moment playing like a mental 
 coruscation, would suddenly expire, and then she would 
 droop again into the gloom of moody madness, and weep 
 amidst all the gaiety that surrounded her weep even like 
 a child. If spoken to, she made no reply; but, lifting up 
 her dark streaming eyes, sparkling through the humid
 
 142 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 medium in which they were suffused, like a star in motion- 
 less water, she would sing snatches of old songs about dis- 
 appointed love, blighted hopes, and broken hearts. And 
 the melancholy tones of her voice would sadden all around 
 her, as if some powerful spell had suddenly passed over 
 their minds like a cold wind, and frozen up the fount of 
 joyous feeling; and they would weep too weep along with 
 her; for she was so beloved, so good, so beautiful, so happy 
 once, and so wobegone and wretched now. Then would 
 the gentle maniac start up on a sudden, as if some one had 
 hastily summoned her, and, rushing towards home, would 
 mutter, in a quick tone of voice " I am coming I am 
 coming ! I knew we would be in time ! I knew we would 
 
 be in time ! He is there ! he he ! Who ?" She was 
 
 silent now. Many an eye was filled with tears as she passed 
 through the straggling village of Grassyvale. 
 
 Winter had passed away; the vernal eruption of spring 
 had been matured into the bloom and the promise which 
 spring gives of autumn, when May Darling one evening 
 wandered forth from her father's cottage, attended only by 
 a little sister. Striking into that beautiful and unfrequent- 
 ed path where she had last walked with him who, on the 
 following day, was to have become her husband, she had 
 arrived at the very spot where lay asleep on the grassy 
 bank by the hedge-side the wife of Bolton. A train of 
 thought seemed suddenly to rush through her mind; for 
 she sat, or rather dropped, gently down. 'Twas the recol- 
 lection of former events which had begun to be reanimated 
 within her; and, though faint, it was sufficient to cause a 
 temporary suspension of muscular energy: her sight be- 
 came dim, only vague images being presented to the eye; 
 and she might probably have fallen backwards, had not a 
 person sprung through the hedge, and, putting his arms 
 around her slender form, maintained her in an erect posi- 
 tion. The individual who had thus BO opportunely come to
 
 THE STORY OF MAY DARLING. 143 
 
 her assistance was closely wrapped up in a greatcoat, al- 
 though the warmth of the weather rendered such a cover- 
 ing scarcely necessary. The upper part of his countenance 
 was concealed by a slouched hat drawn pretty far down; 
 but from what of it was visible, it was plain that care, re- 
 morse, and dissipation had gone far to modify its natural 
 expression. 
 
 May gradually revived from her partial swoon; and the 
 stranger, uncovering his head, and fixing his eyes upon the 
 languid features which began to assume the hue of life and 
 the expression of conscious being, said, in a low, trembling 
 voice 
 
 "May Darling, hear me do not curse me I am mise- 
 rable enough without the malison of her whom " But 
 
 his feelings, for a moment, choked his utterance. "Through 
 a thousand dangers and difficulties have I sought this in- 
 terview, only that I might obtain your forgiveness, and 
 acceptance of this small gift." Here he flung a purse 
 down by her side. " Say you forgive me, May breathe 
 but the word, and in a few days an ocean shall roil be- 
 tween us." 
 
 But he spoke to ears which heard not. The moment 
 that May recognised Bolton, reason was restored, but ani- 
 mation fled, and she sank dead for a time in his arms. He 
 was about to take measures for her restoration, when the 
 rapid trampling of horses' hoofs drew his attention in an- 
 other direction; and, looking over the hedgerow, he per- 
 ceived two horsemen, at a very little distance, advancing 
 towards the village. He seemed to be aware of their 
 errand, and the cause of their speed; for no sooner had he 
 cast his eyes on them, than his head instinctively slunk 
 down behind the hedge. But his precaution was too late. 
 He had been seen; and that night he was led, a fettered 
 
 man, to the jail of H , charged with highway robbery. 
 
 We may as well conclude his history, as well as that of tho
 
 144 TALES OF THE BOKDEES. 
 
 other individuals who have been interwoven with our tale, 
 before returning to May Darling. 
 
 Mr Henry Bolton was found guilty of the crime with 
 which he was charged, and condemned to perish on the 
 scaffold, although it was only his first offence, and, to do 
 him justice, he had committed the crime for the purpose of 
 having it in his power, in some measure, to requite May 
 Darling for the injury which she had received at his hands. 
 How wonderful are the ways of Providence in punishing 
 the guilty ! Actuated by a motive unquestionably virtu- 
 ous, Bolton commits a capital crime, and the woman whom 
 he had wronged becomes, unconsciously to herself, the ulti- 
 mate cause of his punishment ! However, by powerful in- 
 tercession on the part of his friends, the sentence was com- 
 muted to transportation for life. But it was destined that 
 he should end his days miserably. "Whoso sheddeth 
 man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." Bolton was 
 virtually a murderer, as we shall see; and the curse could 
 not be eluded by the decision of any earthly tribunal. 
 'Twas vain to attempt to fly from it. The vengeance of 
 Heaven would have pursued him through all the regions of 
 space; and, screened by the closest envelope of darkness 
 and disguise, would have struck its victim down. In a 
 skirmish with the natives of the place to which he had been 
 tiansported, he was taken prisoner, and by them put to a 
 cruel and lingering death. 
 
 After the painful interview with her husband in the 
 church of Grassyvale, Mrs Bolton returned to her father, 
 secluding herself from the world, and devoting her time to 
 household duties and the education of her son. Rumours 
 of the death of her husband penetrated at last to the re- 
 mote part of the country where she resided, and, on its 
 being officially authenticated, Dr G , who had com- 
 menced practice in a neighbouring town, became a frequent 
 visiter at the farmhouse. His former courtship was re-
 
 THE STORY OF MAY DARLING. 145 
 
 newed; and, when the days of mourning were over, and 
 time had done much to alleviate grief, to restore the faded 
 charms of Mrs Bolton, and to throw the events of the past 
 into dimness and distance, they were united; and are still, 
 according to the last accounts, living happily together, sur- 
 rounded by a family of thriving children. Nelly Gray and 
 Janet Baird still pursue their respective callings in Grassy- 
 vale the latter never failing, on every possible occasion, to 
 boast of her sagacity in detecting the real character of Mr 
 Henry Wilkinson, alias Bolton. But let us return to the 
 suffering May Darling. 
 
 She was borne to her cottage home insensible, in which 
 state she remained all that night, and next day revived, 
 only to know that she was dying. Yes, the arrow that 
 had pierced her was poisoned; but the venom, though fatal, 
 worked slow. Gold is refined by fire, and the more intense 
 the heat applied, the purer will the metal become. So is it 
 with the human souL It is made perfect through suffering; 
 and the more it is destined to endure, the fitter will it be- 
 come for taking a part with the choirs of saints and angels, 
 when it shall have thrown aside the garment of mortality, 
 and mounted on high, like the unshadowed moon, through 
 parted clouds. But May was happy notwithstanding. In 
 all her looks and movements were disclosed the peace of 
 mind which passeth understanding. It was diffused, like 
 light from heaven, over her countenance; it was heard, like 
 a rich chord of music, in the tones of her voice; her every 
 word and action betrayed its presence and all-prevailing 
 power. Her Bible, although always a favourite study, be- 
 came now her sole one; and by its all-hallowing influence, 
 her mind, looking down with calm complacency on all ter- 
 restrial things, had an early foretaste of immortality, in 
 many a delightful contemplation of that abode and that 
 felicity which shall reward the just. 
 
 " It was a delightful evening, about the middle of au- 
 
 E2
 
 146 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 tuinn," says the worthy clergyman to whom we have been 
 indebted for many of the facts of the foregoing narrative, 
 "that I was hastily summoned by John Darling to visit his 
 daughter, who, he believed, was dying. I lost no time in 
 proceeding to his cottage, and found that his conjecture 
 was but too true. In an easy-chair, placed at an open win- 
 dow which faced the west, reclined the victim of a broken 
 heart. On her pale cheek death had impressed his seal, 
 though, there the deceitful rose-tint fluctuated, which was 
 not so in her days of health and hope. Her words, when 
 she spake (and that was seldom), seemed to come forth with- 
 out her breath; and the lightest down that ever was wafted 
 through summer's air might have slept unfluttered on her 
 lips. I kneeled down, and prayed that the gentle spirit, 
 which was about to be released from its mortal bonds, might 
 receive a welcome to the realms of life and light. '*? She un- 
 derstood distinctly that she was dying; and, injtoken that 
 her mind was at perfect ease, she faintly uttered,' when I 
 
 had finished, . ' Yes ! oh T yes ! .' Heaven ! he ! ' The 
 
 words died unfinished on her tongue, and her spirit rose to 
 its native sky. 
 
 ' Peace to her broken heart and virgin grave ! ' 
 
 " In what a noble, what a truly grand point of view does 
 this instance of triumphant faith place the glorious religion 
 in which we believe ! In what bold relief does its value to 
 our fallen race appear ! What a luminous light does it shed 
 in life's last agonies, opening up a radiant vista through 
 the clouds and darkness which settle on the soul, like the 
 shadows of approaching death ! . There is nothing better 
 qualified to develop the intellectual faculties, enlarge the 
 understanding, and strengthen and foster the latent virtues 
 of the heart, than the love and the study of literature. I 
 am no advocate for the exclusive study of Scripture nay, I 
 am not sure if such restricted reading would not lead to 
 narrowness of mind and gloomy unconcern about the affairs
 
 THE STORY OF MAY DARLING. 147 
 
 of life, and tlie duties connected with it, if not also to self- 
 ish moroseness and illiberal bigotry a want of community 
 of feeling and sympathy with human nature in general. 
 But what would literature alone have done for May Dar- 
 ling? Would the recollection of Shakspere's finest bursts 
 of inspiration, where the dramatist seems struggling with 
 nature which shall be the greatest, have buoyed her spirit 
 up under the lead which oppressed it, Or given but one, 
 only one, faint assurance of immortality? Alas ! they could 
 only have reminded her of what it would have been far 
 better to forget for ever, to bury in everlasting oblivion be- 
 neath the waves of Lethe. How finely does the bard of 
 Hope write, in reference to the anticipation of eternal feli- 
 city in the hour of dissolution ! 
 
 ' What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly? 
 The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye? 
 Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey 
 The morning dream of life's eternal day!' : 
 
 Or what could philosophy have done for her? Science has 
 only reference to this life its eagle eye has never caught 
 a ray reflected from that which is to come. Matter may be 
 tortured by methods, varied with infinite ingenuity; but 
 every secret thus disclosed only relates to matter there is 
 nothing of spirit brought to light in all the experiments of 
 the chemist, in all the observations of the astronomer, in 
 all the gropings and searching investigations of the geologist; 
 for, though he reveals past time ay, almost a past eternity 
 the strata of the earth, with their world of organic won- 
 ders, which record the transpired history of our planet in im- 
 perishable hieroglyphics, tell nothing of the future. The 
 ocean, with its buried wrecks and its countless treasures; the 
 mountain, over which the mighty deep once rolled its undu- 
 lating expanse, and there deposited its myriads of living 
 creatures; the desert, which heaps its ocean of sand over 
 entombed cities, once the glory of the earth But why
 
 148 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 should we go on ? everything speaks of the past, but not 
 a whisper conies from creation's breast of what is to come. 
 The Bible alone discloses the mighty secret. May all, there- 
 fore, find it what it proved to be to May Darling: light, 
 when all is dark hope, when all is despair pleasure in 
 pain life in death." 
 
 It was upon her that a nameless rustic bard, who had 
 been an admirer, composed the following lines: 
 
 " She faded like a flower 
 
 That wastes by slow decay; 
 Not snatcli'd in an untimely hour, 
 
 But wither'd day by day. 
 'Twas sad to see those charms. 
 
 So heavenly once, decay'd; 
 And oh ! to blight thee in our arms, 
 
 In bridal robes array'd ! 
 
 But Heaven commenced with thee 
 
 Whilst yet below the sun; 
 And, ere the mortal ceased to be, 
 
 The seraph had begun. 
 Calm, then, on Nature's breast, 
 
 In dreamless sleep, sleep on, 
 Till angel voices break thy reel 
 
 In music like thine <n?n ! "
 
 WILLIE GRANT'S CONFESSIONS. 149 
 
 I CANNA BE FASHED! 
 
 OR, 
 
 WILLIE GRANT'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 "HERE'S a bonny day, sir," said old Willie Grant, "and 
 the Whitadder's in excellent trim Tdll ye get your gad and 
 your creel, and we'll awa see what sort o' sport there is. If 
 I'm no mistaen, the trouts will rise as fast as ye throw the 
 line to-day." 
 
 " Oh, I canna be fashed," said the individual to whom he 
 spoke. 
 
 "What's that I hear ye say?" added Willie, seriously. 
 "Ye canna be fashed! can ye no? Do ye think ye could 
 be fashed to read the ' Cottagers o' Glenburnie?' Ye would 
 there see the meaning and the effects o' 'I canna be fashed* 
 illustrated. But if ye can be fashed to hear, I'll gie ye an 
 example in my ain case; and, I assure ye, that those four 
 words, 'I canna be fashed' (he spoke them very 
 slowly, laying emphasis on each) I say, sir, those four 
 words hae cost me a thousand pounds twice told. I got 
 them for naething; but, certes, they proved a dear bargain 
 in the long run. They hae made me acquainted wi' a sair 
 skin, a sair heart, and an empty pocket. I hae nae remem- 
 brance wha learned me the words, nor am I altogether cer- 
 tain but that they are words that just spring out o' the lazi- 
 ness and indolence o' our dispositions, like weeds out o' a 
 neglected soil. But weel do I remember the first time when 
 I was made to hae a feeling remembrance o' having used 
 them. My faither was a bit sma' laird in East Lothian 
 no very far frac Dunglass and the property consisted c'
 
 150 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 between thirty and forty acres, so that he managed to bring 
 up a family o' five o' us very comfortably, and rather re- 
 spectablyand the more especially as my mother was a 
 very thrifty woman. I was the third o' the family; and, an 
 I was gaun to say to ye, there was ae day that we were a' 
 gilravishing about the floor, and wheeling ane anither in a 
 little wheelbarrow that my faither had got a cartwright in 
 Dunbar to mak for us (for he was a man that liked to see 
 his bairns happy), when, says he to me 
 
 "Willie, tie yer wirings,* and dinna let yer shoon bo 
 shaughlin aff yer feet in that gate, or ye maun gang bare- 
 foot. Folk shouldna hae shoon that dinna ken hoo to wear 
 them." 
 
 " I canna be fashed, faither," said I, and continued run- 
 ning after the wheelbarrow; but, before ever I wist, and 
 before I thought that I had done ill, he gied me a cuff i' the 
 haffits that made me birl half donnert by the cheek o' the 
 lum.t 
 
 "Ay, man!" says he, "what's that I hear ye say 'yc 
 canna be fashed ! ' Let me hear the words come out o' your 
 lips again if ye daur, and I'll knock the life out o' ye." 
 
 That was the first time that I particularly remember o' 
 having made use o' the phrase, and I am only sorry that the 
 clout which my faither gied me didna drive it out o' my 
 head frae that day henceforth, and for ever; though, truly, 
 it had nae such effect, as ye shall hear, and as I experienced 
 to my sorrow. I sat down whinging till my faither gaed 
 out o' the house, and, as soon as his back was turned, I dried 
 my een, and began to drive about the barrow again wi' my 
 brothers and sisters; but I hadna ran aboon ten minutes, 
 till my mother, wha was tired wi' the noise we were making, 
 cried 
 
 " Willie, laddie, gie me aff your stockings instantly. Pre- 
 serve us ! the callant has holes in their heels ye micht put 
 * Shoe-ties. f Chimney.
 
 WILLIE GRANT'S CONFESSIONS. 151 
 
 yer nieve through ! There's what ye've dune wi' your run- 
 ning about without yer whings tied." 
 
 ' Hoot, mother," cried I, " I canna be fashed darn them 
 again' nicht." 
 
 "I'll 'canna le fasJied' ye ye lazy monkey, ye. Did 
 your faither no gie ye aneugh for that no ten minutes syne, 
 and ye'll tell me ony siccan a story !" 
 
 She grippit me by the neck, and for my faither's ae clout 
 she gied me ten, at every cuff saying, I'll canna be fashed 
 ye!" And at last she threw aff my shoon, and pulled the 
 stockings aff my legs, and pushed me awa frae her wi' a 
 great drive, crying, " Now, only let me hear ye making use 
 o' thae words again, and ye'll maybe see what I can be fashed 
 to do." 
 
 " Oh dear me !" thought I, "what ill have I done?" And 
 I sat down, and I grat and I roared most heartily, and I 
 kicked my bare feet upon the floor. 
 
 " Kick awa there, my man," said my mother for she 
 was a woman that never got into what ye could call a 
 passion in her family, as I have seen some mothers do 
 "kick awa there," says she; "and if ye drive a hole in 
 the heels o' the stockings you've on now, ye'll darn them 
 yourseL" 
 
 But this, sir, was only the first thrashing that I got for 
 " I canna be fashed " it wasna the last, by a score o' times. 
 My faither was a man that never liked to lay out a shilling 
 where it could be saved; and he always grudged to employ 
 other people to do anything when he thought it could be 
 done within his own house that is, by the members o' his 
 own family therefore, about the back end o' spring, or the 
 fore end o' summer, he would have said to us 
 
 " Now, bairns, haud awa to your beds, and before school- 
 time the morn, gang and howe the potatoes, or weed the 
 corn." 
 
 I never durst say onything then, but slipped awa
 
 152 TALES OF THE BOKDEES. 
 
 very unwillingly just feeling as if I felt it a trouble to put 
 aff my claes. But before sunrise in the morning, when my 
 brothers would have wakened me, I used to rub my een, 
 and gaunt, and say 
 
 "What ! u-rhai ! hoots ! I canna be fashed !" 
 
 And my faither, frae the ben-a-house, would have cried 
 out, wi' a voice that made the very nails on my fingers 
 shake, "What's that he's saying? I'll be fashed him!" 
 
 Then up I would have got, shrugging my shoulders, and 
 wriggling them frae side to side, and cried peevishly to one, 
 "Where's my stockings?" and to another, "Where's rny 
 jacket?" 
 
 Then my faither would have cried out again, " Til seek 
 it for ye !" Then I soon found it, and got out o' the house 
 wi' the rest o' them. 
 
 It was precisely the same thing when my brothers used to 
 shake me in a morning, and say 
 
 " Get up, Willie ye haena your task yet." 
 
 I had invariably the same answer for them on such, occa- 
 sions also. I appeared as if naething could drive it out o' 
 He. I have heard auld wives say, if ye were taking infants to 
 ony part o' the globe ye like, and keeping them where they 
 never would hear a human voice, nor speech o' one kind nor 
 anither, that they would speak Hebrew ! Now, I verily be- 
 lieve that, if ye had done the same by me if ye had taken 
 me, when a week auld, into the deserts o' Axawbia, wi' nae- 
 thing but dummies round about me, and not a living soul 
 nor a living thing endowed wi' the power o' speech allowed to 
 see me or come near me I say, that I verily believe the first 
 words I would have spoken would have been, " I canna be 
 fashed / " in guid braid Scotch. The words literally seemed 
 born wi' me. And, as I was telling ye about getting up to 
 learn my tasks in the morning, many, many is the time, in 
 the cauldest day o' winter, that my favourite phrase has 
 caused the tawse ^ warm my hands, whea tke fingers o' a*
 
 WILLIE GRANT'S CONFESSIONS. 153 
 
 the rest o' the scholars were dmnlin wi' cauld, and they were 
 holding them at their mouths, and blowing their hot breath 
 on them to take out the frost. My faither should have paid 
 no coal-money for me. And more than this, the four insigni- 
 ficant and carelessly-uttered words which I allude to, while 
 I was at school, always kept me near the bottom o' the class; 
 or, if I rose one or two towards the top, it was purely on 
 account o' others having been awa from the school for a day, 
 or half-a-day, and having to take the foot o' the class, on ac- 
 count o' their absence, as a matter o' course. Often and 
 often I could have tripped their heels, and taken my place 
 aboon them and the teacher kenned it as weel, and many 
 a weary time has he said to me, " Oh, ye stupid stirk ! why 
 do ye stand there? why didna ye trap him?" 
 
 And once, in particular, I remember I answered him, " I 
 couldna be fashed, sir!" 
 
 "Fashed!" he cried, in a perfect fury, and he raised the 
 tawse to his teeth "fashed, sirrah!" he cried again; "then 
 I'll learn ye to be fashed !" 
 
 But o' a' the belabourings I ever got frae either faither 
 or mother, for the same cause, they were naething to the 
 schoolmaster's. It's a miracle to me that there was a tail 
 left on his tawse; for he loundered me round the school 
 and round the school; and, aye as he loundered, he ground 
 his teeth together, and he cried, "Heard ever onybody 
 the like o' that! Canna be fashed, truly! I'll fash ye, 
 my man ! I'll learn ye to gie me an answer o' that kind 
 again!" 
 
 But a' the thrashings that faither, and mother, and mas 
 ter could thrash at me, on every occasion the confounded 
 words were aye uppermost they were perpetually at my 
 tongue end. I was just an easy, indolent being one that 
 deemed disposed to steal through the world wi' my hands 
 in pocket, as smoothly as possible. When I grew to be a 
 lad, I daresay those that kenned me best were surprised
 
 154 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 that I could be fashed to gang a-courting, like other young- 
 sters. But even then, when others would brush themselves 
 up, and put on their half-best coat, and the like o' that, in 
 order that they might look as smart as possible, I have 
 thought to mysel, I wonder if I should shave and wash 
 my face, and gie mysel a redd-up before I gang to see her 
 the nicht; but perpetually I used to say to mysel " Ou, I 
 carena; I canna be fashed I'll do very weel as I am." 
 And there wasna less than three or four young lasses that 
 I had a particular liking for and each o' them, I daresay, 
 would made an excellent wife, and I could been very 
 happy wi' ony o' them but they all broke off acquaint- 
 ance wi' me, "just," as they said to their friends, " because 
 I was o' such a slovenly disposition, that I coulclna even be 
 fashed to mak mysel purpose-like when I gaed to see a body." 
 
 The like o' this was very galling to me; but it hadna 
 the effect o' making a better o' me. I couldna be fashed 
 to be ony better, let come what might. " Losh-a-day," 
 thought I, " I wonder what folk would hae me to be at, or 
 how they can gie themsels sae meikle trouble, and be sae 
 particular?" 
 
 But, beyond all others, there was one young woman that 
 I had an affection for in a very extraordinary degree. She 
 was as dear to me as the apple o' my ee; and I am sure she 
 could hae done onything wi' me save to break me o' my 
 habit o' saying "I canna be fashed." That was beyond 
 her power. It was my fixed intention to marry her; and, 
 indeed, not only was the wedding-day set, but her wedding- 
 gown and my coat were made, and the ring was bought, 
 and she had spoken to her bridesmaid; and, besides buying 
 a' sort o' things hersel, she had got her mother to have her 
 providing packed up, and everything was in readiness just 
 to be lifted to our new house that is, the house we were 
 to occupy. Now, when all this had taken place, there was 
 one bonny starlight nicht that w> ^lere waJking together,
 
 WILLIE GKANT S CONFESSIONS. 155 
 
 juat as happy as twa wood-pigeons, and talking owre the 
 settlements o' every thing, that she said to me 
 
 "What did the joiner say last nicht, "Willie? will he be 
 sure no to disappoint us wi' the furniture? for I would 
 like everything richt at the very first." 
 
 "Eh! weel-minded, my dear," says I; "I really forgot to 
 gang and see him, for I was sae tired when I got hame last 
 nicht, that I couldna be fashed." 
 
 "That was silly o' ye, man," said she; "it was very 
 thoughtless. But I hope ye clidna forget to gie in the mar- 
 riage lines to the minister?" (The session-clerk was ill at 
 the time.) 
 
 "Save us a', hinny !" said I, "weel, I am sure that dings 
 everything ! But, as sure as death ! as I told ye, I was sae 
 tired, that I never minded a word about it till bed-time, 
 when I had my waistcoat unbuttoned and my shoon off, and 
 I couldna be fashed to put them on again, and, at ony rate, 
 it was owre late." 
 
 "Very weel, Willie," says she, and apparently a good 
 deal hurt, " I wouldna thought it o' ye but no matter." 
 
 "No, love," said I, "it's no great matter, sure enough; 
 for this is only Saturday nicht, and I'll just call in at the 
 manse in the by-going, as I gang hame, and tell the minister 
 a' about it. The thing can be done in a minute." 
 
 " Indeed, no," said she, " though I should never be cried,* 
 ye are to go no such way. This is Saturday nicht the 
 morn is the Sabbath, and the minister will be at his studies, 
 and ye are not tc listurb him upon my account." 
 
 "Very well, lora," said I, "we'll just have to put off a 
 week, then." 
 
 "Maybe sae," said she. But I thought there was some- 
 thing unco dry in her manner o' saying "maybe sae." 
 However, as I couldna be fashed to call upon the minister 
 that nicht, I took nae mair notice o' the subject. 
 * Cried Publication of bannst
 
 156 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 I could hardly get a word out o' her after this, for above 
 an hour that I remained in her company. However, she 
 rather came to a little (for she was a kind-hearted lassie), 
 when we were about to part; and we promised faithfully to 
 meet one another at the usual trysting-place, on the Wed- 
 nesday nicht followicg, at eight o'clock, within a minute; 
 and I was to have everything arranged wi' the minister and 
 the joiner in the meantime. 
 
 On the Sunday morning, the minister passed me between 
 the manse and the kirk, and, says he, quite familiarlyfor 
 he was a man that had nae stiffness about him 
 " Willie, I thought you was to have been cried to-day." 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," said I; "but it was all my ne- 
 glect; for I couldna be fashed until last nicht, and then I 
 thought ye would be at your studies, and it was owrc late 
 to trouble ye." 
 
 "You were very considerate," said he, wi' a smile; "but 
 I'll save you the trouble next week." 
 " I'll be obliged to ye, sir," said I, taking off my hat. 
 In going home, I overtook the joiner no, I'm wrong, 
 the joiner overtook me and, after he had observed that 
 it was a fine day, and I had said it was, and he had asked 
 me what I thought o' the sermon, and so on, I said to him 
 " Now, I expect that ye'll no disappoint me wi' the furni- 
 ture." 
 
 "Ye needna be feared o' that, Mr Grant," said he; "ye 
 ken ye proposed that it was to be a ready-money transac- 
 tion. It's no every day that we meet wi' jobs o' that kind, 
 and ye may tak my word on't, I'll no disappoint ye both 
 for your sake and mine." 
 
 "Weel," thought I, "that's twa things aff my head 
 Isabella will surely be pleased now (for they ca'd her Isa- 
 bella). I've been fortunate in meeting wi' them baith in 
 killing twa birds wi' ae stane." 
 But the appointed Wednesday nicht came, and perfectly
 
 WILLIE GEANT'S CONFESSIONS. 157 
 
 do I recollect, that a dark, dirty, gousty nicht it was. I had 
 full three miles to go to see her, and about seven o'clock I 
 pulled out my watch, and I went to the door. A sma' 
 drizzling rain came battering on my face. I looked a' round 
 about the heavens, and saw that there was nae appearance 
 o' the nicht's clearing up, and, thinks I " Weel, she'll ne'er 
 think o' coming to meet me the nicht. She'll no be sae daft. 
 It's o' nae use o' me gaun, and I,canna be fashed." 
 
 So I went into the house again, and sat down quite con- 
 tented; and a nicht or twa after, the weather having settled, 
 I went to see her at her faither's. The auld folk received 
 me, as usual, very kindly; and the auld 'man got a seat for 
 me next the fire, and inquired if there were any news 
 while his guidwife asked me if I wadna hae my stockings 
 changed, as the roads were very wet, and my feet might be 
 damp and I thanked her, and said " No." But there sat 
 my intended, plaiting at a cap-border, or frill, or something 
 o' that sort, as stiff and as silent as a stucco image, never 
 letting on that she either saw or heard me. I spoke to her 
 twice or thrice, and she gied a sort o' low, half cough, half 
 hem ! but not a syllable did I get out o' her. Never did she 
 look to the side o' the house I was on. Her head seemed 
 to be fixed in a blacksmith's vice in an opposite direction, 
 and dear kens what sort o' cap or frill it was she keepit 
 plait, plait, plaiting at; but her task was never like to come 
 to an end, and she keepit pingle, pingling, and nip, nipping 
 at it wi' a knife, until my patience was fairly worn out. In 
 my opinion her fingers had discovered the perpetual motion; 
 and when I had sat until vexation and anxiety were like to 
 choke me, I felt a sort o' ha ! ha ! haing ! in my throat, 
 as though I could hae burst out into a fit o' passion, or greet- 
 ing, or I dinna ken what and wi' a great struggle I got up, 
 and I managed to say 
 
 ' Will ye speak at the door, Isabella dear ? " 
 
 " / canna be fashed I " said she.
 
 158 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 sir! sir! had ye experienced what I felt at that mo- 
 ment. The lounderings o' my faither, my mother, and my 
 dominie, and the slights o' former sweethearts, were a mere 
 naething to what her answer caused me to endure. I ex- 
 pected naething but that I would drop down upon the floor. 
 
 "Oh, ye foolish lassie, ye!" said her mother, who was 
 sorry for me, "what do ye mean?" 
 
 " Get up !" said her faither. 
 
 " I canna be fashed ! " said she again, more cuttingly than 
 before, and half turned her een upon me, as she said it, in a 
 manner that gaed through my breast as if ye had drawn a 
 sharp knife across it. 
 
 Weel, sir, our names were ca'ed on the Sunday following; 
 and between the first day o' their being published, and the 
 day on which the marriage was to take place, I was three 
 or four times back and forward at her faither's but I got 
 nae mair out o' her. I almost thought that I ought to 
 stop the banns; but I thought, again, that that would be 
 very unco like, and very contrary to what I wished; so I 
 allowed them to go on, Sunday after Sunday. 
 
 1 never imagined but that she was just in the pet at me 
 having broken my tryst, and that, like everybody that was 
 in the pet, she would come out o't when she found it neces- 
 sary, and the sooner frae being left to hersel. But, on the 
 very day we had fixed for the wedding, and when the best- 
 man and I went to her faither's house, expecting to find her 
 and the best-maid, and the whole o' them, in readiness to 
 go before the minister to my unutterable astonishment 
 and dismay, there was she, sitting in her morning gown, 
 as unconcerned as a judge, just as if naething had been to 
 happen. 
 
 "Mercy me! Isabella!" says I, "are ye no ready? 
 where's the women?" 
 
 " Eeady ! " returned she" what for ? what do ye mean? 
 what women \ "
 
 WILLIE GBANT'S CONFESSIONS. 159 
 
 Oh ! guid gracious ! I'll never forget the sensation that I 
 felt at that moment. I'm surprised that I didna drop dead 
 on the floor. " Isabella," said I, " are ye no perfectly aware 
 that this is our wedding-day, and that we were to be at the 
 manse at twelve o'clock precisely ? " 
 
 "Ay!" said she, "had ye keepit your tryst at such a 
 time, and at such a place, nae doubt this would have been 
 the day; but ye couldna be fashed to keep it then and I 
 canna be fashed now." 
 
 "Oh, confound it!" cried I; "Isabella, do ye want to 
 drive me mad?" 
 
 " I dinna think there's ony danger o' that," replied she. 
 
 Vexation and surprise put me fairly beyont mysel I was 
 taken in a moment, 
 
 " Weel ! " exclaimed I, " ye'll rue it, Isabella ! ye'll rue 
 it there shall nae woman mak a fool o' me ! " 
 
 " JSTor man o' me," said she. 
 
 "Be it sae," said I; "yet, guidness me! you're no in 
 earnest?" 
 
 "Earnest!" said she; "I tell you I canna be fashed." 
 
 At the sound o' the terrible words, I banged out o' the 
 house. I never stopped till I came to Dunbar, and there, at 
 the very moment I arrived, I took the coach for Edinburgh; 
 and there I stopped but two days till I set oif for London, 
 for my heart was in such a terrible state o' perturbation, 
 that I could have gone to the world's end, ay, and round it, 
 and round it again, if I had had the means, in order that I 
 might have found rest. 
 
 It seems that poor Isabella thought that I would come 
 back and the best-man persuaded her that I would and 
 she went to dress hersel, and sent for the best-maid. But 
 little did she understand the character she had to deal wi'. 
 I was either a' laziness, or a' desperation. I knew no 
 medium; and I have no doubt that, before she got her hair 
 dressed, and her gown fairly on, I was half-way to Edin-
 
 160 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 burgh for I flew to Dunbar as though furies had pursued 
 me. 
 
 But, sir, the upshot was, that Isabella died a spinster, and 
 I am a bachelor until this day, and will be, until the last 
 day o' my existence; and thus did the four never-aneugh-to- 
 be-detested words " I canna be fashed "place eternity, 
 yea, an infinite chasm, between me and the only woman for 
 whose sake I could hare laid down my life, as cheaply as 
 though it hadna been worth a sixpence. 
 
 Ye may think that the few instances I have related to 
 ye, and their consequences, would have been aneugh to 
 have cured me o' ever making use o' the words again but 
 ye shall see. 
 
 Now, you'll observe that, before the time I'm speaking 
 o', my faither and mother were both dead, as well as two 
 o' their family, so that there were but three o' us left, and 
 we sold the property, and divided the money amongst us in 
 equal shares. Therefore, when I got to London, I was nob 
 altogether bare-handed. Now, to my shame, I must con- 
 fess that I had not been long there, till the remembrance 
 o' Isabella, and the cause that had provoked me to come to 
 desert her, were almost forgotten; for ye must remember 
 that absence makes many changes and there is many a 
 bonny face in London. So, after I had looked about me 
 for a week or two, I thought to mysel that I saw nobody 
 doing better than the keepers o' wine and spirit vaults. It 
 seemed a' ready-money; it was just nipper after nipper 
 that is, glass after glass, owre the counter the money 
 down, and done wi' it. I resolved to become a wine-vault 
 keeper, and I looked around to see where such premises 
 were to let. At length I pitched upon a shop that I thought 
 would suit me exactly, on the north side of Olerkenwell 
 Street, and nearly facing Jerusalem Passage. 
 
 There were a very great number o' compositors and press- 
 men, and bookbinders and gold-beaters, and other trades, in
 
 WILLIE GKANT'S CONFESSIONS. 161 
 
 the immediate neighbourhood; and I understood that they 
 were in the habit o' making the vaults which I was about to 
 take their pay-house and house-o'-call. So I took the house, 
 and entered upon the business, and, in a very short time, I 
 thought very little about Isabella, or the grief she had caused 
 me. I hadna long opened the house until the compositors 
 and the pressmen, the bookbinders, gold-beaters, and others, 
 a' came back to it. They were weel-spoken, civil lads. 
 They spent a deal o' money, and I certainly tried to be as 
 civil and obliging to them as I could; and, in short, they 
 called me " a fine chap," and " the best Scotsman out of 
 all sorts they had ever met with." 
 
 Weel, in a week or two, some o' them began to get on to 
 my slates not by name, for I didna like to ask it; it was 
 impudent; and, thought I, oh, it might spoil their custom 
 at ony rate; and I canna be fashed; it would be an awfu 
 trouble writing names upon a slate, especially the names o' 
 so many. But I knew them a' by head-mark, and I thought 
 there was no need for it. 
 
 However, one got into my books, and another got into 
 my books; but, no, I am wrong there again, for they only 
 got on to the slates I couldna be fashed to carry them 
 into the books; I thought there was nae need for it; they 
 generally paid upon the Saturday nicht, and there was nae 
 fear o' me forgettin. 
 
 But, in a short tune, there never was a Saturday nicht 
 but there was always some o' my debtor customers amiss- 
 ing; and when I inquired for any o' them, the reply was 
 
 " Oh, you're one of his ghosts, are you? well, I wish you 
 may get it he's got the lag* " 
 
 "So, so," I would say; "and he is off with his finger in 
 my bag too." 
 
 Well, in this way I lost more money than I can tell. But 
 I lost it in another way also, and from the same cause. You 
 
 * Got the bag i. e., paid off, or discharged. 
 VOL. X.
 
 162 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 know that in London every public-house has a porter-walk, 
 or a beer-walk, as they call it, the same as the rounds of a 
 milk- woman here, and they go round twice a-day, at dinner- 
 time and supper-time. Well, to my surprise, in a few 
 months I got the best beer-walk in all London. I couklna 
 think how it was. I was almost rivalling the Alderney dairy 
 which was at my very hand, for I had to engage two pot- 
 boys to carry out my supply. But I gave credit; I trusted 
 to the lads to keep an account of what they took out, and 
 they trusted to me. I said " I couldna be fashed wi' the 
 like o' that;" but they said they gave me the names and 
 number o' the individuals with whom they had intrusted 
 both porter and pewter-pots; and if I did not mark it down 
 and see after it, it was my look-out, and not theirs. In this 
 way, I believe, I lost five butts o' porter within twelve 
 months. Yet, sir, these were not the only griefs and the 
 only losses that the four words which are the subject of my 
 story have brought upon me. Not only did I frequently 
 neglect to insert in my own books what I had sent out on 
 credit, but I as frequently delayed to mark down what had 
 been sent to me by the brewer or distiller, and said, "Hoot, 
 I haena time I canna be fashed to enter it to-day, I will 
 do it the morn, or the next day." But the next day and the 
 next came, and I could be less fashed than ever, and the 
 entry remained untouched. Many a heavy loss I am sen- 
 sible this has caused me; and often has it made me appear 
 as a rogue, when my intentions were honest. 
 
 Sir, what I have told ye is but a sample o' what " I canna 
 be fashed" has cost me. I could relate to you a thousand 
 o' its consequences; but half-a-dozen are as good, and per- 
 haps better than a thousand, by way o' example. 
 
 I had been about fifteen years in business, when I became 
 bond, for a friend that I thought I could have trusted as my 
 own brother, to the extent o' three thousand pounds. I was 
 certain he was perfectly solvent, and from the acquaintance
 
 WILLIE GRANT S CONFESSIONS. 163 
 
 I had had o' him, I could nae mair hae doubted him than I 
 could hae doubted that I was the son o' my mother. But a 
 few weeks after I had signed the bond, a mutual acquaint- 
 ance called upon me, and, says he 
 
 " Grant, you have acted like a fool." 
 
 " I dinna doubt," says I, for I was perfectly aware that 
 I often had; "but what do ye mean to be at?" 
 
 "Why," says he, "So-and-so has taken you in. He is 
 preparing to be off, bag and baggage, for America, and you 
 will be left to pay the piper." 
 
 " Oh, ye are a suspicious wretch," says I; "man, I couldna 
 believe the like o' that if ye were to swear it to me." 
 
 " Believe it or not," says he, " if you don't see after it in- 
 stantly, your three thousand pounds are gone." 
 
 "Hoot! babbles!" said I, "the man's daft ! do ye think 
 I dinna ken him better than that ? The man is as sure as 
 the bank. I would be the last man he would injure a far- 
 thing I ken that weel aneugh. But, at ony rate, I am par- 
 ticularly busy, and I canna be fashed wi' ony nonsense o' 
 the kind; so ye may keep yoursel easy, and I am only sorry 
 that ye should hae such an opinion o' ony friend o' mine." 
 
 "Canna be fashed!" cried my acquaintance, hurrying 
 from the shop; "what a deuced fool! Grant, you'll repent 
 it." 
 
 I laughed at the man; for I had perfect confidence in my 
 friend, and I knew that he had property worth three times 
 the money that I was bond for him. 
 
 On the very next day, the same acquaintance came into 
 my house very hastily, and says he 
 
 " Grant, if you don't look after your money, and that very 
 sharply, you will, find your friend's property is no go, and 
 you are in for paying the three thousand." 
 
 " Ye dinna mean to say the like o' that 1 ?" said I. 
 "Say that, you blockhead !" returned my acquaintance 
 "wherefore wouldn't you believe me yesterday I" And
 
 164 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 placing his arm through mine, he dragged me out o' the 
 house. We reached the habitation o' the worthy gentleman 
 for whom I was surety in the sum o' three thousand pre- 
 cious pounds sterling. But he was off off like a bird whose 
 nest has been robbed o' its eggs. Twelve hours before, he 
 had sailed for America, or some other quarter o' the globe; 
 but where I never knew. 
 
 "Come home, Grant," said my friend, "don't distress 
 yourself now." 
 
 " Oh, dinna speak to me," says I " I canna be fashed; my 
 three thousand pounds ! my poor three thousand pounds !" 
 
 "We went into a tavern, and I drank out o' pure desperation 
 until I could hardly stand; and as we were going home I 
 fell, and I dislocated my arm, or I broke it; at ouy rate I 
 did something to it, and it never was like to get better; and 
 my friends advised me to send for a surgeon but 
 
 "What to do wi' a surgeon?" says I; " I canna be fashed 
 wf them. The arm will get better itsel." 
 
 But from that day until the present hour, I have never 
 had the right use o' it. It made me useless, in a great mea- 
 sure, in the way o' business. Therefore I sold the good- 
 will o' my house, and wi' the other little remains o' what I 
 had saved, I came down here, just to live as easy and as 
 cheap as possible. And now, sir, as ye have seen what a 
 great gainer I have been by the words " I canna be fashed" 
 I hope and implore ye will never use them again, but take 
 a warning bv the example o' Willie Grant.
 
 SING DAVID AND MAUDE. 
 
 TALES OF THE EAST NEUK OP FIFE. 
 
 THE CASTLE OF CEAILj OK, KING DAVID AND MAUDE 
 
 "Ev'n kings hae taen a queen out o' the plain, 
 And what has been before may be again." ALLAN RAMSAY. 
 
 THE reign of the illustrious Malcolm III., surnamed Can- 
 more, King of Scotland, which began in the year 1057, was 
 not more distinguished for heroism and literature than for 
 love. He was both a religious and a valiant king, and was 
 often victorious against the Danes, who frequently invaded 
 Scotland. In his time, William, Duke of Normandy, con- 
 quered England, and in the great battle of Hastings, which 
 took place in 1066, killed King Harold. Edgar, the lawful 
 heir to the English crown, seeing the country conquered, 
 and the nobles routed and dispersed, took shipping with his 
 mother and sisters, and arrived in the Frith of Forth, and 
 landed at Queensferry, which received its name from Mar- 
 garet, the eldest sister of Edgar, whom King Malcolm after- 
 wards married. King Malcolm was killed at the siege of 
 Alnwick by Eobert Moubray, who, unarmed, upon a light 
 horse, came out of Alnwick Castle, with a lance in his hand, 
 and bearing the keys of the castle upon its point. 
 
 King Malcolm, while earnestly regarding the keys, was 
 stabbed by Moubray through the left eye to the brain, and 
 died instantly. King William the Conqueror, in conse- 
 quence of this achievement, changed the name of Moubray 
 to that of Percy, of whom are descended the Dukes of 
 Northumberland. 
 
 After sundry usurpations, Edgar and Alexander, the first 
 and second sons of King Malcolm, severally reigned for a 
 number of years, and died childless; and in 1124, David I.,
 
 166 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 the hero of our tale, ascended the throne. He possessed a 
 large share of his father's virtues, and during his reign cul- 
 tivated those arts and sciences which Malcolm had encou- 
 raged. His heart was particularly susceptible of the tender 
 passion, and of the power of beauty. It is a well-established 
 historical fact, that King David occasionally resided at the 
 Castle of Grail, which stood on a rock overhanging the har- 
 bour, and vestiges of this royal residence still remain. A 
 summer-house now stands on the site, surrounded by a large 
 garden; and the place is sometimes occupied by the owner, 
 a landed gentleman in the neighbourhood, and his friends, 
 for the purposes of good fellowship and social intercourse. 
 
 While residing at the Castle of Grail, the king and his 
 younger nobles resolved on partaking of the wild sports of 
 the neighbourhood; and with this view they proceeded one 
 day, well mounted, and attended by the hounds, to Kings- 
 barns, a fine tract of land belonging to the crown, where 
 the grain was stored in barns for payment of the king's 
 rents; and from thence they passed on to an extensive and 
 thickly-wooded district in fact, a large forest, which now 
 constitutes a considerable portion of the Parish of St An- 
 drews and surrounding parishes. The ancient name of this 
 district was Cursus Apri, or, the Boar-Chase, and hence is 
 derived the present name of the village contiguous, "Boar- 
 hills." 
 
 Having started a wild boar out of this forest, it took a 
 westerly course towards Kingsmuir (which, as its name im- 
 plies, also belonged to the crown), and the party set off in 
 hot pursuit. This muir, now highly cultivated, was, at the 
 time to which we refer, a waste or common of little value, 
 and on which many of the neighbouring proprietors, in con- 
 sequence, claimed a servitude right of pasturage; but it was 
 under an officer of the crown, styled " Heritable Keeper of 
 tie Kingsmuir." Here, then, while engaged in the exciting 
 sport of the chase of the boar (which, in the end, was killed
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 167 
 
 at Kingscairn Mill), a deer, a fox, and a wild cat also broke 
 cover, and the attention of the hunters and hounds being 
 thus divided, the party separated, and the king found him- 
 self alone upon the muir. 
 
 David was in the prime of life a very handsome man, 
 and of princely bearing, and, while thus unattended and 
 unknown, he met with a lovely young shepherdess in a 
 lonely part of the muir, tending her father's sheep. The 
 name of the young woman, he found, was Maude, or Ma- 
 tilda, and, having inquired of her where she abode, he de- 
 parted, resolving to cultivate the acquaintance he had thus 
 accidentally formed. He frequently visited the shepherdess 
 after this (who was entirely ignorant of his rank), in the 
 capacity of a private gentleman, and her conversation was 
 his delight. There was something mysterious to him in her 
 deportment and her accomplishments: she possessed the 
 strictest innocence and the most dignified bearing without 
 the slightest embarrassment. Though plainly attired, 
 "grace was in all her steps," and every action exhibited 
 courtly propriety and ease. Though her observations were 
 chiefly confined to her flocks, and to rural affairs, yet she 
 would occasionally surprise the king with her remarks upon 
 astronomy, history, geography, morals, and agriculture, 
 which bespoke a mind informed far above the common 
 level. Being thus engaging in her mind and manners, it 
 was not to be wondered at that every additional visit in- 
 creased the love and affection of the astonished king, whose 
 dignity was her torture. His passion grew stronger every 
 day. 
 
 The king was captivated with her charms. Honour, 
 however, governed his actions, and subjected his wishes to 
 the control of virtue: he wished to raise her to an exalted 
 situation, not to triumph over her innocence in short, he 
 wished to make her his royal bride; but this seemed impos- 
 sible, and he returned dejected to his Castle of OraiL H
 
 168 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 regretted that high rank should now stand in the way of 
 his happiness, and almost wished he had not been born a 
 king. He consulted the L'ord of Douglas, his prime minister, 
 urged the beauty, the virtue, the genius of Matilda, but all 
 .in vain; the reply was, that policy and prudence required 
 him to seek a union with some exalted character an alli- 
 ance with the daughter of a powerful and wealthy prince; 
 and that, were he to place a shepherdess on the throne, his 
 nobles would be disgusted, and quit his court, and in all 
 probability proceed by open violence to resent the supposed 
 insult to their dignity. The king admitted that what was 
 said was too likely to be the fact, and at the same time re- 
 probated that pride which deemed an alliance with obscure 
 and untitled virtue disgraceful; but he knew the prejudices 
 of his nobility were unconquerable, and he submitted with 
 great reluctance to his fate. His friends and amongst 
 others the Lairds of Oambo, Anstruther, Gsangemuir, and 
 Balcombie, the Provost of Crail, and Prior of St Rufus, the 
 remains of whose chapel may still be seen a little eastward 
 of Crail, near Roome Bay, and whose well (called the Prior's 
 Well) is yet resorted to occasionally by the good people of 
 the Nethergate these friends, we say, tried in vain to 
 divert the king's thoughts, and alleviate his distress. They 
 informed him of the great antiquity of the burgh that it 
 was a place of note in the ninth century. They conveyed 
 him on horseback to the Dane's Dyke, the remains of a 
 bulwark of stones thrown up by our Danish invaders in one 
 night, where human bones, in great quantities, are yet cast 
 up by the plough on the farm of Kilmining; and they then 
 passed on to the Cave of Balcombie Sands, where they told 
 him one of his majesty's predecessors, Constantine, the Scot- 
 tish king, was beheaded by the Danes, in the year 871, he hav- 
 ing been taken prisoner in a skirmish, while the enemy were 
 retreating. The party then visited the Castle of Balcombie, 
 a lofty and extensive pile of building, of immense strength
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 169 
 
 and remote antiquity, where, in after years, Mary of Guise 
 was hospitably entertained, on landing, after a tempestuous 
 passage, at Fifeness-haven, in order to be married to King 
 James V. From hence King David proceeded to Airdrie, 
 or Ard-rhi a name which in the Celtic language denotes 
 "the king's height" then a favourite royal hunting-station 
 on the borders of Kingsmuir; and, returning to Grail, the 
 Runic Cross was not forgotten.* 
 
 It were endless to tell of all the devices resorted to by 
 his friends to alleviate the king's melancholy. The greatest 
 beauties of the castle courted his smiles without effect. 
 Their charms seemed but to remind him of the superior 
 fascinations of his beloved Matilda. Nothing seemed to 
 remain to him but the trying task of parting, perhaps for 
 ever, from his captivating shepherdess. 
 
 The king often thought of asking Matilda for the story of 
 her life, but dreaded that the narrative would but confirm 
 his misery. Upon one of his visits, he missed her at the 
 accustomed spot, but found a venerable old man attending 
 the sheep in her place. The king anxiously inquired for 
 Matilda, and was informed that she was visiting a family 
 in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The family which she had gone to visit lived in an unpre- 
 tending mansion beautifully situated on a ridge of rising 
 ground, which stretches from east to west, nearly through 
 the middle of what is now the Parish of Carnbee. This 
 
 * This is a singular monument, and of great antiquity. At the 
 repair of the church of Grail, it was laid down in place of a piece of 
 Arbroath pavement, to form one of the passages, and is thereby al- 
 ready somewhat mutilated, and had it been allowed to continue much 
 longer in that situation, it must have been entirely obliterated; but 
 it is gratifying to state that, while these lines are going to press, a 
 gentleman from the Cape of Good Hope, on a visit to Grail, his 
 native parish, has had the good taste to get the stone removed, and 
 placed in the wall of the church, where it will be now preserved from 
 further dilapidation.
 
 170 TALES OF THE BOBDEKS. 
 
 ridge rises in different places into hills of a beautiful conical 
 form, and are green and verdant to the summit; these are 
 Carnbee-la\v, Kellie-law. Gillingshill, and Gunner-law. It 
 was to Gillingshill Matilda had directed her steps, and, 
 occupying as it did an elevated position, the house com- 
 manded an extensive and splendid view. * 
 
 The maiden had acquainted her father that she often 
 had a visiter when keeping her flocks in the muir, and, 
 from her description of him, the old man conceived the in- 
 dividual present to be that person, and accordingly in- 
 vited him to their habitation, which invitation David, 
 throwing aside for awhile his usual courtly ceremony, ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 He went on with sorrowing steps, and yet would not 
 have staid behind. The small and unpretending cottage 
 before him damped him at first, but when he thought upon 
 it as the home of his fair enchantress, his spirits were again 
 cheered. He found in the place neatness and rural elegance. 
 He would have been happy, to have changed his sceptre for 
 a shepherd's crook, and his noble Castle of Grail for this 
 humble dwelling. He was invited to refresh himself, and 
 Matilda soon joined them; but, although the table was 
 spread with healthful rustic dainties, he could not do jus- 
 tice to the feast. Matilda's charming company and conver- 
 sation was his regalement. The old man apologised for the 
 homeliness of his fare, supposing that to be the cause of his 
 
 * Among the objects which the eye now takes in by a short sweep 
 are the noble mansion of Kellie Castle, belonging to the Right Honour- 
 able the Earl of Mar and Kellie; Grangemuir, the residence of the 
 Eight Honourable Lord William Douglas; Balcaskie, the seat of Sir 
 Kalph Abercrombie Anstruther, Baronet; together with Elie House 
 and village, with its commodious harbour; Kilconquhar House, with 
 its beautiful loch; Balcarras, with its picturesque craig, its ivy- 
 mantled chapel, and its many military, historical, and literary asso- 
 ciations; Pitcorthie, with its magnificent mansion; Gibleston, with 
 its fine woods and gardens, and many villas of lesser note.
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 171 
 
 guest's abstinence, and said, " That once he could have en- 
 tertained him better, but now he had little more to offer 
 than a hearty welcome." 
 
 A knock was heard at the door, and a young farmer 
 havifig entered who wished to buy some sheep, the old man 
 retired with him with the view of making a bargain. 
 
 The young couple being left alone, David moved his chair 
 nearer to that of Matilda, and began to renew his attentions 
 to her; but, however much she was pleased with the courtly 
 air and intellectual conversation of her visiter, she was re- 
 solved to act with prudence and circumspection. She there- 
 fore took this opportunity of stating to him, in a polite and 
 kindly manner, that, as he had said his visits were paid for 
 the purpose of making her acquaintance, and that while 
 she thanked him for the favourable opinion he had often 
 expressed with regard to her, yet, as he was a stranger, and 
 had never been regularly introduced, she should be obliged 
 to decline his future visits. She further stated, that he 
 must be well aware there can be no safe principle except 
 this, that every man aiming at our acquaintance must be 
 introduced to us by some person we already know, who be- 
 comes a guarantee, as it were, for the propriety of his be- 
 haviour and the honour of his views; that without this 
 we can never be sure that the individual addressing us is 
 not a designing adventurer, who would think nothing of 
 making our happiness his sport; and that for a young female 
 to admit the addresses of an unknown young man, however 
 fascinating his manners or noble his air, would be to run a 
 great risk of disappointment and unhappiness for life. 
 
 The old man now came into the room, and the subject of 
 conversation being changed, King David shortly afterwards 
 took leave of his entertainers, bowing respectfully as he 
 retired. 
 
 Matilda's father had been her tutor, and he was well 
 qualified for that office. To aid the development of her in-
 
 1*72 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 fant mind to pour forth to her, as she grew in years and 
 in reason, all the fruits of his own richly-cultivated intellect, 
 was the solitary consolation of one over whose head was 
 Impending the misfortune of incompetence, or deficiency of 
 Jneans for the adequate support of himself and his daughter. 
 Matilda was gifted with a mind which, even if her tutor 
 had not been her father, would have rendered tuition a de- 
 light. Her lively imagination, which early unfolded itself; 
 her dangerous but interesting vivacity; the keen delight, 
 the swift enthusiasm with which she drank in knowledge, 
 and then panted for more; her shrewd acuteness, and her 
 innate passion for what was excellent and beautiful, filled 
 her father with rapture, which he repressed, and made him 
 feel conscious how much there was to check, to guide, and 
 to form, as well as to cherish, to admire, and to applaud. 
 
 As she grew up, the bright parts of her character shone 
 with increased lustre; but, in spite of the exertions of her 
 instructor, some less admirable qualities had not yet disap- 
 peared. She was still too often the dupe of her imagination: 
 and though perfectly inexperienced, her confidence in hei 
 theoretical knowledge of human nature was unbounded. 
 She had an idea that she could penetrate the character of 
 individuals at first meeting; and the consequence of this 
 fatal axiom was, that she was always the slave of first im- 
 pressions, and constantly the victim of prejudice; she was 
 ever thinking individuals better or worse than they really 
 were, and she believed it to be out of She power of any one 
 to deceive her. Constant attendance during many years on 
 a dying beloved mother, and her deep religious feelings, had 
 first broken, and then controlled, a spirit which nature had 
 intended to be arrogant and haughty. Her father she 
 adored; and she seemed to devote to him all that considera- 
 tion which, with more common characters, is generally dis- 
 tributed among their acquaintances. 
 
 We hint at her faults. How shall we describe her virtues ?
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 173 
 
 Her unbounded generosity, her dignified simplicity, her 
 graceful frankness, her nobility of thought and feeling, her 
 firmness, her courage, and her truth, her kindness to her in- 
 feriors, her constant charity, her devotion to her parents, 
 her sympathy with sorrow, her detestation of oppression, 
 her pure unsullied thoughts, her delicate taste, her deep re- 
 ligion all these combined would have formed a delightful 
 character, even if unaccompanied with such brilliant talents 
 and such brilliant beauty as she possessed. Nature and 
 . art were the graces which had combined to form this girl. 
 She was a jewel set in gold, and worthy of a king. 
 
 After the remarks made by Matilda on his last visit, the 
 king resolved to make known to the old man and his daugh- 
 ter his rank and station with as little delay as possible; 
 but, being wishful at the same time to ascertain previously 
 what were the feelings of Matilda towards him as a private 
 individual, irrespective of his kingly crown and dignity, he 
 thought it best to postpone the communication until he 
 should have learned the history of the old shepherd and his 
 family. For this purpose he repaired on an early day to 
 Kingsmuir, and bearing in mind the few words which for- 
 merly fell from the old man in reference to his having seen 
 better days words which had greatly raised the .hopes of 
 the king, and fixed his attention on the story of their for- 
 tuneshe entreated the sage to relate the same, which he 
 agreed to do, and began as follows: "I was formerly Earl 
 of Northumberland, and husband of Juditha, grand-daugh- 
 ter of William the Conqueror. Our family were nearly con- 
 nected with royalty, and my possessions in lands, flocks, 
 and herds, exceedingly extensive and valuable. I lived in 
 becoming splendour. I was beloved by my neighbours, and 
 happy in ray family. My estates are situated not far from 
 the borders of Scotland, and were frequently invaded by 
 the Scottish chiefs. For a long time my tenants and ser- 
 vants bravely repelled these attacks, but at length increas-
 
 174 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 ing in their numbers, we were overpowered. They spoiled 
 and ravaged all our lands, and drove away our flocks and 
 herds, save a small portion, with which I removed to the 
 East of Fife, to find security and protection. Here have I 
 since lived suppressed my style and title, and passed my- 
 self off as a poor old shepherd, with this my humble but 
 virtuous and affectionate daughter, the comfort and support 
 of my declining years." 
 
 The king struggled to conceal the thrilling emotions 
 which he felt at this narration, and asked the old man 
 whether he had applied at court for succour in his distress. 
 His question was answered thus: "No; my family, con- 
 sisting of but myself and young Matilda, and my desires 
 being confined to narrow bounds, by the dictates of religion 
 and philosophy, I thought it unjust to ask of this country 
 that support which health and honest industry could pro- 
 cure, and thereby deprive more useful subjects of their just 
 reward." The king admired the generous spirit of the vene- 
 rable sage; told him he had interest at court; assured him 
 that the king would be glad to see him, and insisted that 
 he and his daughter should hasten thither; which journey, 
 after considerable hesitation, they resolved to undertake. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the transports of the young 
 long on this occasion. He came back to the castle, to in- 
 form Ms courtiers that two interesting strangers were shortly 
 to visit them, and he made ail due preparations for his ex- 
 pected and welcome guests. The scene was now changed 
 from deep despondency to the most complete joy and felicity. 
 
 At the appointed time the old shepherd and his lovely 
 daughter arrived at the good old town and Castle of Crail; 
 and having recovered from their surprise, the king intro- 
 duced them to the court in their rural habits, without dis- 
 closing their rank. As companions of the king, the courtiers 
 were obliged to receive them with civility, but their affected 
 politeness could ill conceal their absolute contempt. The
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 175 
 
 court broke up, and the king again engaged in conversation 
 with the Earl of Northumberland. He requested to know 
 where his daughter derived so much knowledge? To which 
 the earl replied, "From my own poor stock. She was my 
 sole companion. I thought it my interest as well as my 
 duty to teach her every science I knew. She had an apt and 
 comprehensive intellect, and easily received instruction." 
 
 In a few days the king again assembled all his courtiers. 
 He had previously advised with the prime minister and privy 
 councillors on the propriety of a marriage with an earl's 
 daughter of royal lineage, and obtained their unqualified 
 consent and approval. He then introduced the old man 
 as the Earl of Northumberland, and the beautiful shepher- 
 dess as his daughter Matilda. Shame seized the ungene- 
 rous nobility for their former conduct, but the offended parties 
 soon removed their embarrassment; and a noble suite of 
 apartments were soon set aside for the earl and Matilda in 
 the house of the governor of the castle.* 
 
 * The Castle of Grail was an important station in early times. The 
 fortress was entered by a massive gate in the Shoregate, the site of 
 which is now occupied by a house some time belonging to the late Mr 
 William Cowan. Within the rampart which defended the entrance 
 were placed the guard-house and apartments for officers. For centu- 
 ries the castle consisted of little more than these houses and a single 
 tower, surrounded by a barbican, and other defences; but after the end 
 of the eleventh century it became of more importance as a royal resi- 
 dence for King David. In his reign the fortifications were consider- 
 ably extended; a governor's house was erected, with two circular 
 towers, from which a grand view was obtained to seaward, and of the 
 surrounding country. Within a second gate were two couYts, contain- 
 ing the king's palace, the parliament hall, the chapel, and otiier build- 
 ings. The roof of the king's room in the palace was completely 
 covered with rich carving in oak, long regarded by the town's-people 
 with veneration. There was also a house for storing grain, and a well 
 of excellent water within its walls. This fortress was considered the 
 key of the East of Fife, and, before the invention of gunpowder, waa 
 deemed impregnable.
 
 176 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 In a fine summer afternoon David and his beloved 
 Matilda were seated alone in a room of the governor's 
 house. 
 
 Now, as interviews between lovers arc usually very de- 
 lightful to our fair young friends in general, we might for 
 their benefit narrate at great length all that was said and 
 done by the parties above mentioned; but, without disap- 
 pointing them altogether, we shall be very brief on the sub- 
 ject, and rather hasten to unfold more important parts of 
 their adventures. 
 
 " Sweet Matilda," began David, " my heart, that never 
 knew another love, is all your own. Since we first met on 
 Kingsmuir, your image has not quitted my mind for a second. 
 Not for a moment have I ceased to think you the best, the 
 most beautiful, the most enchanting, the most endearing 
 creature that ever graced our country." 
 
 She turned; her eye glistened; her arm fell over his shoul- 
 der; she buried her head in his breast. At this very moment 
 the door opened, and the earl her father entered; and 
 David exclaimed, "Oh, my dear earl, I am the happiest man 
 that ever breathed." 
 
 "What is all this?" inquired the carl 
 
 "Is it possible," said the king, "that you have not long 
 before detected the feelings I ventured to entertain for your 
 daughter? In a word, she requires only your sanction to 
 my being the most fortunate of men." 
 
 " My gracious sovereign," cried the earl, " it is out of the 
 power of man to impart to me any event which could afford 
 to me such exquisite pleasure." 
 
 The earl then approached his daughter, and, bending down, 
 pressed the lips of his child. It was the seal to their plighted 
 faith, and told without speech that the blessing of a father 
 mingled with the vows of a lover. At this moment Matilda 
 thought only of her father that friend of her life in pro- 
 sperity and adversity, whose love had never been wanting
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 177 
 
 was she now about to leave him? She rose; she threw her 
 arms about her father's neck, and wept. 
 
 The earl at this time considerately remembered that he 
 wanted to see his servant, and they were left alone. Their 
 eyes meet; their soft looks tell that they are thinking of 
 each other. His arm steals round the back of her chair, and 
 with the other hand he gently lays hold on hers. But why 
 more ? First love first love, how many a glowing bard has 
 sung thy charms ! Nature herself seemed to those loving 
 hearts more beautiful than ever. Their own thoughts re- 
 flected themselves in every object that met their view, as 
 they wandered amidst the shady woods or along the sunny 
 braes near the royal residence. 
 
 But although the young king was in love, duty was not 
 to be neglected; and the old earl entreated that the youth- 
 ful pair should cease to wander on the West Braes, and 
 Eoome Links, and woods, and muirs which at that time 
 surrounded the burgh. He urged the king to examine and 
 make good the walls of the town, and the gates at the East 
 and West Ports, and Jockey's Port, as well as those of the 
 Nethergate and Shoregate; also the castle walls, gates, and 
 defences, and whole fortifications. The armoury came like- 
 wise under observation, and an inspection took place of the 
 bowmen, while practising archery in the Bow Butts. These 
 precautions became necessary, as rumours began to be cir- 
 culated that a war might speedily be expected with the 
 English. 
 
 The affairs of state having also received due attention, 
 the court resolved to visit the Isle of May. 
 
 Tne morning was remarkably fine, when the king, with 
 the Earl of Northumberland, Matilda, and a number of 
 his court, embarked at Crail in a pleasure-yacht for the 
 May. The air was pure, the sea slightly ruffled with a 
 favouring breeze, and the sky almost cloudless; all nature 
 looked bright and beautiful, and the morning sun cast the 
 
 F ^J
 
 178 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 shadows of the vessel's masts across the water in the 
 harbour. 
 
 The harbour of Crail presented a very animated scene. 
 Everything was in unison with the sunny day and the illus- 
 trious occasion. The piers were lined with soldiers, and be- 
 hind them were dense crowds of spectators. The royal Scot- 
 tish standard was flying from the castle, and from the south 
 pier-head. The harbour was crowded with boats and small 
 craft, to witness the departure. On the yacht leaving the 
 harbour, the cheer was taken up by the soldiers and the 
 populace, while the band struck up the national air. 
 
 The Island of May was reached in less than an hour. In 
 sailing round the western side, the most discordant sounds 
 saluted the ear from kittiewakes, seagulls, scouts, and 
 other wild sea-fowl, which inhabit the rock in myriads, and 
 nestle in the bare crevices; and some of the party, wishful 
 to display their skill in archery, brought down a few of the 
 birds with their arrows, both sitting and on the wing. A 
 landing was safely made on the southern side, and the com- 
 pany separated into small parties, to stroll over the island, 
 and view its natural curiosities and various remains of an- 
 tiquity, particularly its priory and gifted holy well. 
 
 After spending a delightful day, the court embarked with 
 the afternoon's tide for Crail, and, when at a distance from 
 the island, they viewed with interest the romantic Castle 
 of Dreel, the stronghold of the Anstruthers of Anstruther ? 
 to whom the king had lately granted a charter, wherein the 
 heir is designed " Filius Willielmi d*e Candela, domini de An- 
 struther :" " son of William de Candela, Lord of Anstruther," 
 a name obviously of Norman origin. This castle lies at the 
 bottom of the bay, between the Billowness and Craignoon 
 Eock, with its rough, grey, antique houses clustering round 
 the mouth of the Dreel burn. Brightly on sea and on shore, 
 shone the unclouded afternoon's sun on the white cliffs of 
 the isle, and the nigged shore of the East of Fife, with all
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 179 
 
 its caverns, rocks, and towers, its ancient burgbs, with their 
 pointed spires, and long and straggling fishing villages, that 
 dot the rocky beach. The scene was lovely and beautiful. 
 The Forth shone like a stream of lucid gold; West An- 
 struther, with its old church of Norman architecture; Eoyal 
 Crail, with its lofty castle, its chapel, and turreted battle- 
 ments; Castle Cunningham, at the West Braes, and its 
 gloomy caverns not far distant all these were visible at 
 once, and bathed in ruddy light. 
 
 King David having now declared his intention of espous- 
 ing Matilda, the marriage was soon after solemnised within 
 the chapel of the castle, with much splendour and dignity. 
 The guests of the bridal were the nobility and dignified 
 clergy, and in their suite a numerous assembly of vassals. 
 A thousand knights, in their robes of silk, attended the 
 bride on the morn of her nuptials, and several days were 
 spent in hunting, feasting, dancing, and other circumstances 
 of pomp and revelry. 
 
 A tournament, the frequent amusement of this warlike 
 age, also took place; This was a martial sport or exercise 
 which the ancient cavaliers used to perform to show their 
 address and bravery. On this occasion, Walter Bisset, a 
 powerful baron, who piqued himself on his skill in his wea- 
 pons, was foiled by Patrick, Earl of Athole. An old feud 
 which existed between these families embittered the defeat, 
 and Athole was found murdered in his house, which, pro- 
 bably for the purpose of concealment, was set on fire by the 
 assassins. The suspicion of this slaughter which, even in 
 an age familiar with ferocity, seems to have excited un- 
 wonted horror immediately fell upon the Bissets; and al- 
 though Walter was the person concerned in the tournament, 
 the popular clamour pointed to William, the elder brother, 
 and chief of the family. He was pursued by the nobility, 
 who were incited to vengeance by the Earl of March and 
 David de Hastings, and would have been torn to pieces, had
 
 180 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 not the interference of the king protected him from the fury 
 of the friends of Athole. Ultimately the Bissets were con- 
 demned, their estates forfeited to the crown, and they were 
 ordered to repair to Palestine, and there, for the remaining 
 days of their lives, to pray for the soul of the murdered 
 earl. 
 
 When we muse on the chivalric and martial sports which 
 distinguished our ancient burgh in former days, and witness 
 the silence and gloomy depopulation which now reign in our 
 streets; when we compare its lofty and formidable castle 
 with its present bare and defenceless walls; when we think 
 of the great maritime and commercial interest carried on, 
 before the Union, between its harbour and Holland, and 
 other foreign countries, and see its present limited coasting 
 trade, we can scarcely help regretting the loss of its ancient 
 grandeur. One cannot lielpfeeliny that of this royal resi- 
 dence, where princes feasted and heroes fought now in the 
 bloody earnest of storm and siege, and now in the games of 
 chivalry, where beauty dealt the prize which valour had 
 won all is now desolate, all its glory is departed. The 
 massy ruins of its castle walls only serve to show what their 
 extent and splendour once was, and to impress on the mind 
 of the musing visitor the transitory nature and value of all 
 human possessions, and the true happiness of those who 
 enjoy a humble lot in virtuous contentment. 
 
 Some of our readers may deem the marriage of David 
 and Matilda a singular and improbable circumstance; 
 but we can tell of a far more romantic bridal, and one 
 well attested by historical evidence, which happened little 
 more than a hundred years afterwards viz., in 1272 
 with which important consequences were connected: A 
 Scottish knight of high birth, Eobert cle Bruce, younger 
 of Annandale and Cleveland, was passing on horseback 
 through the domains of Turnbeny, which belonged to 
 Marjory, Countess of Carrick. The lady happened at
 
 KING DAVID AND MAUDE. 181 
 
 the moment to be pursuing the diversion of the chase, 
 surrounded by her squires and damsels. They encountered 
 the Bruce. The young countess was struck by his noble 
 figure, and courteously entreated him to remain and take 
 the recreation of hunting. Brace, who, in those feudal 
 days, knew the danger of paying too much attention to a 
 ward of the king, declined the invitation, when he found 
 himself suddenly surrounded by the attendants; and the 
 lady, riding up, seized his bridle, and led off the knight 
 with gentle violence to her Castle of Turnberry. Here, 
 after fifteen days' residence, the adventure concluded as 
 might have been anticipated: Bruce married the countess, 
 without the knowledge of her relations, or obtaining the 
 king's consent; upon which King Alexander seized her 
 Castle of Turnberry. The intercession of friends, however, 
 and a heavy fine, conciliated the mind of the monarch. 
 Bruce became, in right of his wife, Lord of Carrick, and 
 the son of this marriage of romantic love was the great 
 Robert Bruce, the restorer of Scottish liberty. 
 
 Soon after the royal marriage, preparations were made 
 for the queen's coronation (King David having been crowned 
 when he ascended the throne), and the royal pair, with the 
 court, proceeded to Scone Palace for that purpose. 
 
 It was a fine morning in the month of July when the 
 party set out, and the dawn was beautiful. Before them 
 lay the great Frith of Forth, rolling down in the bright sun- 
 shine from the mountains of the west, its shores teeming 
 with fertility and natural loveliness. Along the banks the 
 mists were rising from the verdant cones and waving woods 
 of Innergellie, Lochton, and Balcomie. It was a spacious 
 prospect of flowering meadow and ripening corn-field of 
 foliagecl coppice and flowing ocean of rising eminence and 
 busy burgh town of ships and fishing-boats at anchor or 
 under sail, with the glorious sunshine beaming over all, and 
 everything was full of life, of light, and of happiness arour ~
 
 182 TALES OF THE BOKDERS. 
 
 them. The road from Crail passed through Airdrie Woods, 
 by the back of Kellie-law, and thence through the muirs 
 to Falkland.* Here the royal party stopped and partook 
 of refreshments, and thereafter proceeded on their journey 
 to the Palace of Scone. 
 
 The mode in which the ceremony of Queen Matilda's 
 coronation was performed is strikingly illustrative of the 
 manners of the age. The Bishops of St Andrews and Dun- 
 keld, with the Abbot of Scone, attended to officiate. The 
 Bishop of St Andrews explained to her majesty the respec- 
 tive oaths, which were to be taken first in Latin, and after- 
 wards in Norman French. They then conducted her to the 
 regal chair or sacred stone of Scone, which stood before the 
 cross in the eastern division of the chapel. Upon this she 
 sat; the crown was placed on her head; she was invested 
 with the royal mantle, and the nobility kneeling in homage 
 threw their robes beneath her feet. A Highland bard or 
 sennachy, clothed in a scarlet mantle, with hair venerably 
 white, then advanced from the crowd, and bending before 
 the throne, repeated in his native tongue the genealogy of 
 the youthful queen. 
 
 Many years pass. Maude is dead; and our fancy, under 
 a spell, leads us to Crail Church. The usual service has 
 not yet commenced, and consequently neither the king, 
 his family, nor attendants, have entered the church; but it 
 is whispered that they may be looked for every moment, as 
 his majesty was scrupulously punctual at prayers. 
 
 There was soon a large congregation assembled, certainly 
 not less than a thousand persons, drawn hither by loyalty 
 and curiosity, and in compliment to the royal birth-day. A 
 soft and solemn strain of music now rose from the organ, 
 
 * It is still open, and of great breadth in various parts of the line, 
 and retains the name of the King's Cadgers' Road, because the fish 
 carriers from Crail travelled along it with fish from that royal burgh 
 to supply the king's table when resident at Falkland Palace.
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE CHURCH OF ABERCROMBIE. 183 
 
 and time is given, during the voluntary, to collect the dis- 
 tracted thoughts, and to compose them into calmness and 
 order suitable to the occasion. There now ran a muffled 
 whisper of "The King! the King!" and a vista being 
 opened in front, his majesty is seen quite distinctly. He 
 is a venerable old man, hoary and furrowed no grandeur, 
 no majesty, no assumption of princely dignity. Shading 
 his dim eyes with one hand, he reverently knelt down, and 
 inwardly breathed his composing aspiration to the Throne 
 of Grace. The other hand rested on the shoulder of the 
 fairhaired child who stood by his side, his little grand- 
 daughter, whom he had led in his hand to the place of wor- 
 ship. 
 
 All this had passed in a few seconds: and there was now 
 a deep hush, for the priests were in their places. The star- 
 ing and whispering were suspended; the service commenced, 
 and the aged monarch, bareheaded, his thin, trembling hands 
 fervently clasped, his eyes uplifted as it were to the place 
 to which all his earnest thoughts were now directed, in the 
 attitude of intense, absorbing devotion presented a picture 
 of devotion of a character so solemn and impressive, that 
 anything more striking could rarely be witnessed or ima- 
 gined. 
 
 Here, then, is an end to all our previous dreams of royal 
 splendour, for there stands the pious monarch, David, King 
 of Scotland, 
 
 " His staff his sceptre, his grey hairs his crown," 
 trembling in presence of his God, breathing the general con- 
 fession of his sins with the beings of the same kindred and 
 frail nature as himself that stood around him. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE CHURCH OF ABERCROMBIE. 
 
 From authentic documents referred to by Sir John Oon- 
 nel in hia " History of Tithes," Abercrombie, or Abercrom-
 
 184 TALES OP THE BORDEKS. 
 
 lin, appears to have been a parish as far back as 1 174. How 
 long that character pertained to this portion of Fife we can- 
 not say, but the church is obviously of very great antiquity. 
 Having become so ruinous as to be unfit for a place of wor- 
 ship, it was abandoned in 1646, and since that time the 
 parishes of Abercrombie and St Monans have been united, 
 and the old church of St Monans, situated on the sea-shore, 
 has served for the use of both. 
 
 In a romantic and beautiful situation within the grounds 
 now forming part of the domain of Sir Ealph Abercrombie 
 Anstruther of Balcaskie, Baronet, and in the old burying- 
 place, still used as a cemetery by the Balcaskie family, 
 stands the remains of the old grey parish church of Aber- 
 crombie, with its encircling lime-trees and its green ivy 
 garment duskily investing its aged walls. 
 
 Dedicated to St Mary and St Margaret, tradition has 
 deduced the origin of Abercrombie Church from the piety 
 and wealth of two sisters similarly named. 
 
 About the middle of the twelfth century, the broad lands 
 and swelling coffers of Sir Humphrey Abercrombie (failing 
 male issue) devolved upon two maiden sisters, Mary and 
 Margaret, only children of the baronet; and as both were 
 young, and of unimpeachable descent the true Norman 
 blood mantling in every vein the heiresses early became 
 objects of absorbing interest in the eyes of such of the sur- 
 rounding knights and thanes as could advance pretensions 
 to as clear a shield and pure a lineage as their own. 
 
 Educated within the walls of the convent at Hadding- 
 ton, the sisters' limited experience and unrtpe notions of 
 the world would have inadequately fitted them for the 
 duties entailed upon them by their new position, were it 
 not that nature had beneficently gifted the elder with a 
 certain strength and self-reliance of character, imperfectly 
 developed in the cloister, but daily expanding and matur- 
 ing, in a broader sphere, in proportion as circumstances
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE CHURCH OF ABERCROMBIE. 185 
 
 seemed to call it into action, and demand its vigorous 
 
 exercise. 
 
 The younger was a graceful, gentle girl, gifted with rare 
 beauty, and with a disposition as femininely soft and placid 
 as the mild and dove-like eyes through which her soul looked 
 out upon a world but newly revealed to her enfranchised 
 
 gaze. 
 
 How was it, then, that thus differing thus unlike in 
 mind and feature the high-souled Mary and the shrinking, 
 soft-eyed Margaret should, almost simultaneously, have set 
 their hearts on one object? Was it that, under the hand- 
 some exterior of her soldier-cousin, Philip de Candela, the 
 elder sister recognised a spirit similar to her own ? And 
 was it that the pliant mind of Margaret, putting forth a 
 host of tendrils impulses, affections, sympathies craved 
 some object for support, something to cling to and weave 
 themselves around, encircling what they garlanded? Was 
 it in the harder nature of the soldier these budding tendrils 
 found, as it were, a massive trunk wooing their embrace 
 and strengthening their growth? Was it that the elder 
 loved him for the perils he had undergone in Palestine and 
 in France, the exciting scenes in which he had conspi- 
 cuously borne a brave man's part, and for the spirit of 
 daring and adventure by which he had been influenced in 
 his busy brief career? We may know that it was so; that 
 continued intercourse confirmed and ripened love; that 
 Mary's ears were seldom regaled with tales of war and 
 chivalry, while the songs of Provence were carolled with a 
 frequency and fervour most gratifying, it would seem, to the 
 happy, hopeful Margaret; and that, in short, the soldier 
 and his soft-eyed cousin plighted their troth, and then irre- 
 vocably sealed it with a sacred union. The ceremonial was 
 performed by St Monan, a hermit or religious recluse belong- 
 ing to the Monastery of Pittenweem, which was sheltered 
 in a recess amongst the banks, walls, and crevices at the
 
 186 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 west end of the village of the same name, with a dusky- 
 coloured mass of hard whinstone overhanging it behind, 
 and a stair or gully winding pas"t it in front. Haste and 
 secresy could be purchased then as now, and Philip and 
 his bride were ferried across the frith, and landed at North 
 Berwick, hours ere their lengthened absence had been noted 
 by the elder sister as an unusual circumstance. 
 
 How fierce and violent a storm of passion then swelled 
 within the disappointed sister's breast how from her heart 
 she cursed them bitterly, bridegroom and bride how vowed 
 an unmitigable hatred to them both how every soft and 
 womanly feeling seemed utterly extinct how in their 
 stead arose an intense, consuming thirst to be avenged 
 how, in fact, her whole nature seemed changed, and how she 
 moodily immured herself within her Castle of Abercrombie, 
 day after day, week after week, brooding upon the scornful 
 slight which had been put upon her love, and upon the cun- 
 ning, as she deemed it, of the sister who had supplanted her 
 it were a charity to the infirmities of our common nature 
 to touch upon but lightly, and so pass on to after incidents. 
 
 Six months had scarcely run their course after the mar- 
 riage, when the war broke out between Stephen, the un- 
 popular usurper of the English throne, and his fair re- 
 lative and competitor, Maude. Margaret's husband was 
 among the first to join the standard of King David, and to 
 fling himself within the ranks of those who opposed Ste- 
 phen. Alas ! he was among the first also to fall a victim 
 to that sanguinary strife, being slain in a mere chance skir- 
 mish, into which his zeal and well-known bravery had un- 
 happily led him. 
 
 Poor Margaret might well be overwhelmed by such a 
 fearful and unlooked-for bereavement. Reason almost 
 gave way; and during the time that partial delirium de- 
 prived her of consciousness, her husband's kinsmen merci- 
 fully consigned the gashed and ghastly corpse to its last
 
 THE LEGEND OP THE CHUKCH OP ABERCROMBIB. 187 
 
 home, that the widow's eye might never look with agony 
 upon the loved and distorted features of her slaughtered 
 soldier. 
 
 When the elder sister heard of this sudden sharp calamity, 
 her heart melted within her. In the presence of death, 
 anger and hate, and jealousy, and wounded love, and baffled 
 hope, stood solemnly rebuked. The cause of their disunion 
 no longer found a place within their memory; but a more 
 unclouded past, childhood and girlhood, the recollections of 
 an era teeming with thoughts and images of love and ten- 
 derness of a time when they two nestled their soft cheeks 
 upon the same pillow, wove the same woof, shared the same 
 rambles to Kellie-law and Kilconquhar Loch, to MacdufFs 
 Cave and Balcarras Craig cherished the same dear rose-tree, 
 wept and laughed, grew pale or crimson, sad or merry, as 
 the same feelings swayed the hearts of both came throng- 
 ing to her mind; and as the past brought with it such gentle 
 harmonising influences, why should they not renew it in the 
 future? They had been too long widely and unwisely se- 
 vered. Henceforth they would have, as they had had of 
 yore, but one home and one heart. 
 
 Borne down, indeed, still almost distraught with grief, the 
 younger yet could find a solace and a mitigation of her sor- 
 row in her reunion with her elder sister; and when the lat- 
 ter fell upon the widow's bosom, and brokenly sobbed out 
 her sorrow for the past, her grief for this last heavy stroke, 
 and spoke of hope for better days, when suffering should be 
 softened down by time, and submission soothe regret, her 
 dark eyes kindled through her tears, and a faint smile, like 
 a ray of fleeting sunshine gilding the blackness of the storm, 
 played momentarily upon her compressed and pallid lips. 
 
 So the old Castle of Abercrombie received them once 
 again, linked together by a closer tie wiser and sadder 
 both the joyousness of youth displaced by thoughts of a 
 graver, if not gloomier, texture, as though a few short months
 
 188 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 had done the work of years, and prematurely stamped the 
 feelings of a later epoch upon their youthful minds. Per- 
 haps the solitude in which they lived, disposing them to 
 ponder on the after destination of the soul, or perhaps the 
 converse of a priestly adviser, anxious to aggrandise the 
 church (for there was only one church then, and for three hun- 
 dred years after there was no other, namely, the Church of 
 Rome) of which he was a member; or perhaps that natural 
 revulsion of the mind from matters of momentary to matters 
 of imperishable importance, which results from worldly dis- 
 appointment and domestic calamities, influenced them in 
 coming to the determination to which they came; but what- 
 ever may have been the influences which operated on them, 
 this alone is certain that the sisters mutually resolved to 
 found a church, and dedicate it to the service of the Al- 
 mighty, in token of their reconciliation; purposing likewise 
 to endow it at their decease with the personal wealth of 
 which they were possessed. 
 
 At that time the whole surrounding country, or at least 
 the muirland portion of it, was little better than a leafy 
 wilderness, intersected by numerous bridle- ways, with here 
 and there a broader track, offering a passage for the slow 
 and cumbrous carts and sledges of those rude days. At 
 scattered intervals large clearances had been made; and out 
 of the old primeval trees, and with the aid of turf taken 
 from the soil, and rushes gathered from the margin of the 
 burns, rivulets, and lochs, groups of cottages were framed, 
 windowless and chimneyless a miserable shelter for the 
 hardy cottars who tenanted them. A frank tenementer's 
 more commodious abode, a smithy, or perhaps a huckster's 
 store, were the only tenements that varied that otherwise 
 uniform aspect of these primitive clachans. Wherever the 
 ground swelled into anything like a reasonable eminence, 
 the stronghold of a baron might be observed perched on the 
 summit, while the circumjacent hollow would exhibit its ir
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE CHURCH OF ABERCEOMBIE. ISO 
 
 regularly-clustered hovels, overlooked by the more massive 
 and enduring residence of the rural magnate. Such churches, 
 too, as then existed, were mostly built upon a rising ground, 
 and seemed to serve as landmarks in that wild untravelled 
 breadth of muir-moss and forest-land. It may be readily 
 conceived, therefore, that at such a time, and in such a dis- 
 trict, the rumour of the meditated erection in the first in- 
 stance, and afterwards the commencement, continued pro- 
 gress, and completion of the sacred structure, were regarded 
 as the gradual evolution of an event peculiarly important. 
 
 It was an event, moreover, that was regarded with the 
 utmost satisfaction by the Komish Church, upon whose 
 dignitaries, in due time, devolved the task of formally con- 
 secrating the edifice to the sacred object for which it was 
 intended, and who purposed to lavish in the ceremonial all 
 those adventitious aids by which the Gkurch of Rome im- 
 parted a character of such imposing grandeur to every rite 
 and ceremonial to which she lent her countenance, or in 
 which she bore a part: and hence the consecration of this 
 edifice,,. followed, or rather accompanied, by a solemn pre 
 sentation of the sisters at the altar, in token of compunction 
 for dissensions past, and thankfulness for love restored, was 
 marked by features of such rare magnificence, by such im- 
 pressive pomp, and such professional display, and witnessed 
 by such a multitude of wondering spectators, gathered from 
 far and near, that both the solemnity itself, and its strange 
 issue, lived in the memories of succeeding generations for 
 centimes afterwards. 
 
 On that solemnity we need not tarry to comment; our 
 legend has reference to its issue only. As the sisters knelt 
 before the altar, thus by a formal act to ratify their recon- 
 ciliation in the sight of God and man, and the venerable 
 diocesan, Bishop Arnold of St Andrews, bent down to give 
 his benediction on them both, a flash of vivid lightning on 
 a sudden filled the sacred edifice with a ruddy light, and a
 
 190 TAKES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 rattling peal of thunder rolled, as it were, along the very 
 roof of the building. 
 
 There was a hush a silence that was almost audible a 
 deep, dead calm reigning for a space in every portion of the 
 holy pile. Most of the congregation lay prostrate on the 
 pavement; the sisters knelt upon the altar steps, with 
 buried heads and clasped hands; . the old prelate stood alone 
 erect, and folding his hands upon his breast, with eyes up- 
 lifted and serene, at length emphatically said, " Thy will be 
 done !" A thousand voices as by one impulse, blending into 
 chaos, made response, " Amen, amen !" 
 
 And then the good old bishop, gently touching the kneel- 
 ing sisters, bade them rise; but neither speech nor motion 
 answered him, for still they knelt, with heads bowed low 
 and fingers intertwined with mute lips and eyelids droop- 
 ing heavily. Again and yet again he would have them 
 raised from their kneeling posture; but there was neither 
 word nor sign; and then awe fell upon the hearts of all pre- 
 sent, for they knew that death was there ! The spirits of 
 the sisters, forgiving and forgiven, had passed away, and 
 doubtless angels and redeemed spirits had heralded them to 
 the mansions of the blessed. 
 
 THE EOMANCE OP THE MAY. 
 
 The Isle of May, which lies at the mouth of the Forth, is 
 about six miles from Crail, and is about a mile in length, and 
 three-quarters in breadth. It has a well of excellent water, 
 a small loch, and affords the finest pasturage for sheep.* 
 The island contained a religious house and chapel dedicated 
 to St Adrian, who was murdered by the Danes in 872, and 
 buried at Anstruther- Wester, where his stone coffin is yet 
 
 * Two-year-old May -wether mutton is said to be a feast worthy of 
 the gods, if they would admit anytMng more substantial than am- 
 brosia.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE MAY. 1Q1 
 
 to be seen. The island belonged to the crown; King David 
 afterwards presented it to the abbot and convent of Read- 
 ing in Berkshire; and from this and many other valuable 
 benefactions to the church, King James I., when he visited 
 his tomb, three hundred years after, called him "a sair saint 
 to the crown." From Prynne's records it appears that the 
 abbot afterwards unwarrantably sold the island to William 
 Lamberton, Bishop of St Andrews. It afterwards came into 
 the possession of General Scott of Balcombie, whose daugh- 
 ter, the Duchess of Portland, sold it to the Commissioners 
 of Northern Lights. 
 
 Some remarkable events are connected with this island. 
 The first we shall advert to is the "Battle of the 
 May." 
 
 Our readers have all doubtless heard or read of Sir An- 
 drew Wood of Largo, a famous Scottish admiral in the 
 reign of James III. In the year 1490, King Henry, the 
 English monarch, mortified at the defeat of some of his 
 ships by Admiral Wood the previous year, assembled his 
 officers, and offered rewards to any of them who should take 
 the sea against Sir Andrew, and bring him to him dead or 
 alive. One Stephen Bull, a London merchantman, who, 
 like Sir Andrew Wood, combined the pursuits of warfare 
 and commerce, accepted the offer, and with three large 
 ships set sail for the Frith of Forth, in order to get between 
 Admiral Wood and the land on his return from Flanders, 
 to which he had escorted a fleet of merchantmen. 
 
 The English ships anchored under shelter of the Isle of 
 May; and Bull, having captured some sailors, compelled them 
 to give him intelligence about Sir Andrew's movements. 
 
 Early by daybreak, on a fine summer morning, the 10th 
 of August, Sir Andrew's two vessels, the one named " The 
 Flower," and the other " The Yellow Carvel," were observed 
 to come in sight, on which the English commander made 
 preparations for engaging them, and ' distributed wine
 
 192 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 amongst his men to raise their courage. With regard to 
 the Scottish admiral, Pitscottie the historian says, "On 
 the other hand, Sir Andrew Wood came pertly forward, 
 knowing no impediment of enemies to be in his gate, till 
 at last he perceived their three ships under sail, and coming 
 fast to them in fier of war. Then Sir Andrew Wood, seeing 
 this, exhorted his men to battle, beseeching them to take 
 courage against their enemies of England, who had sworn 
 and made their vows that they should make us prisoners to 
 the King of England, but, God willing, they shall fail of 
 their purpose. Therefore set yourselves in order, every 
 man in his own place. Let the gunners charge their artil- 
 lery and the cors-bows make them ready; with the lyme-pots 
 and fire-balls in our tops, and twe-handed swords in your fore- 
 arms; and let every man be stout and diligent for his own 
 part and for the honour of Scotland, and thereto he caused 
 fill the wine, and every man drank to other." 
 
 The engagement that took place is described as being of 
 the most desperate character. The Scottish admiral con- 
 trived to get to windward of the enemy. The fight lasted 
 from sunrise to sunset, and was beheld by an immense 
 crowd of men, women, and children on the coast of Fife. 
 At last the two fleets were parted by the darkness, and drew 
 off from each other, till the daylight next morning again en- 
 abled them to see what they were about. 
 
 The signal for a renewal of the engagement was then 
 given by blowing of trumpets on both sides, when the two 
 hosts encountered each other again, "and fought so cruely," 
 says our historian, " that neither the skippers or mariners 
 took heed of their ships," but allowed them to drift away 
 with wind and tide till they reached as far as opposite the 
 mouth of the Tay, the crews all the while contending hand 
 to hand. At last the English admiral was compelled to 
 yield, and to give up his sword to Sir Andrew Wood; and 
 his three ships were then towed up to Dundee, where the
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE MAY. 
 
 wounded were lauded, and placed under medical care. A 
 few days after, Sir Andrew, our brave countryman, pre- 
 sented the English admiral and his officers to his majesty, 
 James, King of Scotland, who, so far from returning evil 
 for evil, released and sent back Admiral Bull, his officers 
 and men, with their vessels, and with rich gifts as a present 
 to the English Mng. King Henry of England had thus, in 
 addition to his vexation at this signal defeat, the humilia- 
 tion of being obliged to acknowledge the generosity and 
 princely bearing of the Scottish king, whom he had insulted 
 and injured without the slightest provocation. 
 
 The next occurrence which we shall record is the melan- 
 choly accident which took place on the Island of May in 
 January, 1791. 
 
 For two evenings no light was exhibited from the light- 
 house, and the weather was such as no boat could put off 
 to ascertain the cause. On the third day the storm abated, 
 and a boat was manned from CraiL . No sooner had the 
 crew of the boat landed, than they were assailed by a strong 
 sulphurous smell, and proceeding directly to the lighthouse, 
 they found the door shut, and no one answered their call. 
 Forcing an entrance, they saw the keeper, his wife, and five 
 children, all lying suffocated, and a sixth infant sucking its 
 dead mother. In another room were found two men almost 
 expiring, but who, by the timely assistance rendered, pro- 
 videntially recovered. It was supposed that this sad acci- 
 dent was occasioned by some burning coals being blown 
 among some cinders and refuse lying at the bottom of the 
 lighthouse. 
 
 The last incident to which we shall refer is the boat dis- 
 aster at the island in 1837. 
 
 On the 1st of July, 1837, a skipper and boat-owner be- 
 longing to Cellardyke set sail from that harbour, with a 
 large party, on a pleasure excursion to the Isle of May. 
 Tho day was fine and wind favourable, and the party, 
 VOL. x.
 
 194 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 chiefly young men and women, consisting of sixty-five per- 
 sons, including the crew, were all in high spirits, having 
 music on board, indulging freely in mirth and gaiety, and 
 little thinking of the sad event impending over their heads, 
 by which, in a little half-hour, so many of them were to 
 perish. 
 
 Having approached close to the island, on the western 
 side, it was not deemed fitting to land at the place called 
 "the Stand," or " Atterstones," but to proceed round the 
 southern end of the island to the eastern side thereof, with 
 intention to disembark at a creek on the eastern side, 
 called "Kirken Haven." In the attempt to enter this 
 haven, there being a swell of the sea, or surge, setting in 
 from the eastward at the time, the boat became unma- 
 nageable, and was violently driven against the shore; the 
 stem, in consequence, having stuck fast on the rocks, while 
 the stern floated in deep water, the swell or eddies, and 
 broken water, upset or caused the boat to sink, and a great 
 number of persons belonging to Anstruther, Cellardyke, and 
 the neighbouring towns, were drowned. Of those, ten were 
 young unmarried women, two married women, and one in- 
 fant in all, thirteen persons. One individual lost his 
 wife, his mother, and his child; another, a young man, ob- 
 serving his sister and a young woman to whom he was 
 warmly attached both struggling in the water, and sinking 
 in the midst of furious breakers, boldly plunged into the 
 boiling sea, and made his way to the perishing girls. And 
 oh what a sight for those on shore, to see the noble-minded 
 youth risking his life for those he loved! He supports 
 both for some time; he comforts them with hopes of suc- 
 cour; but his strength begins to fail. What shall he do ? 
 Shall he part with one? and if so, which of the two ? No; 
 the idea is torment to him he cannot for a moment enter- 
 tain it. He will save both, or perish in the attempt He 
 sinks, and rises, and sinks again, with his precious burden.
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE MAY. 1&5 
 
 The waters close over their heads they are given up for 
 lost. The two young women perish, but a huge wave casts 
 the young man nearer the shore; his comrades on the beach 
 make the most extraordinary efforts to save him, and lie is 
 at last rescued from the very jaws of death.
 
 19G TALES OP THE BORDEE3. 
 
 CALEB CKABBIN. 
 
 As a good theorising spirit in philosophy is the very soui of 
 all progress in science, and the creatures that dabble in ex- 
 periments with crucibles and retorts are no better than 
 pioneers to* the great geniuses that combine and generalise, 
 so some think it an undoubted truth that speculation is the 
 great spirit of commerce (including, of course, in the articles 
 of that commerce, wives), and that those who do not make 
 a bold stroke seldom make an effectual one. In no depart- 
 ment of commerce is speculation held of greater importance 
 than in that of marriage; and how rare is it to find a man 
 who thoroughly understands it if, indeed, it may not bo 
 said that ninety-nine out of a hundred do not know even 
 the difference between buying and selling. The women 
 marriage-traders, indeed, form a very creditable excep- 
 tion, because every one of them knowing very well, for a 
 surety, that they have on hand a stock that does not im- 
 prove by keeping are sellers, out and out; while the males 
 again are almost all buyers, though, if they had the sense 
 of a tortoise, they might know that they have just as good 
 a stock to dispose of as their fair customers. There are, 
 doubtless, some exceptions in our sex that go far to retrieve 
 our characters; but, alas! they are very few; and it is 
 just on that very account that we think it proper to give 
 some account of Mr Caleb Crabbin, hosier in the Lawn- 
 market in Edinburgh so great a genius in the department 
 to which we have alluded, that he discovered that all 
 mongering in blankets and stockings was a perfect baga- 
 telle in comparison of the profitable disposal of his own 
 person; and no sooner did he make the discovery than
 
 CALEB CKABBIN. 197 
 
 he acted upon it, with all the boldness that belongs to 
 original thinkers. 
 
 The worthy we have thus mentioned favourably because 
 we admire a supporter of the rights of free trade had la- 
 boured for a period of six or eight years in disposing of 
 articles of hosiery, for every one of which he paid a high 
 price; and, whether it was that he could not buy to advan- 
 tage his genius, probably, not lying in that way or that 
 fce could not sell with a profit, wherein he displayed the 
 same want of natural tact it is certain that he became a 
 bankrupt about as soon as other people merely begin to see 
 they might make "a good thing" of a stop. So he wound 
 up cleverly, and made just as little of his bankruptcy a 
 matter of profit often to those who are mere bunglers in the 
 department of solvency and took it into his head to sell 
 himself. So, accordingly, as chance would have it, he threw 
 his eyes on Miss Belinda Yellowlees, who combined the two 
 comely properties of wealth and weakness in other words, 
 she possessed a thousand pounds, and a very bad constitu- 
 tion; and here it was that Caleb's properties began to be 
 manifested; for the man who thought himself not worth 
 one farthing and was, in fact, not worth more, in the esti- 
 mation of any of his own sex was proved to be worth no 
 less than a thousand pounds, at which price Miss Yellow- 
 lees bought him, and thought, too, that she had got a very 
 good bargain. Seldom, indeed, it happens that both buyer 
 and seller, in a transaction of pure business concerns, think 
 that they have made a hit; yet, of a surety, it was the case 
 in this marriage; for Mr Caleb Crabbin actually conceived 
 that he had made as good a bargain as did Miss Belinda 
 Yellowlees; and so, to be sure, it was soon proved, by an 
 exceeding good probatory test; for Miss Belinda, within six 
 months, went the way of the dead, and her thousand pounds 
 went the way of the living that is, into the possession of 
 her surviving husband.
 
 198 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 No one will deny that this was undoubtedly a good be- 
 ginning in this new commercial enterprise of Mr Caleb; 
 and the best feature of the whole transaction was, that, 
 along with the thousand pounds, he had actually got back 
 again the commodity which he gave for it, and was thereby 
 in a capacity to dispose of it again, on far better terms 
 than ever. Many a good article of hosiery he had disposed 
 of over the counter, and never seen a single glimpse again 
 either of the price or the article; whereas here there was 
 all the difference in the world; for he held the possession 
 of both the thing sold, and the price got for it; and, sti- 
 mulated by his success, he, as soon as decency would per- 
 mit, set about again endeavouring to make a bargain, upon 
 the same, or better, terms than before. Nor was he long 
 about encompassing his object; for the money he had got 
 by the first transaction yielded a facility to the progress of 
 the second; and, within a year of the death of the first un- 
 fortunate, Mrs Belinda Crabbin, he, after a hunt compre- 
 hending nearly all that period, found out an individual not 
 only in every way worthy of his attention, but exhibiting 
 all the features of being as good a market-woman as he was 
 an out-and-out trader. The lady, whose name was Miss 
 Amelia Rcddic clearly an orthographic phase of the cog- 
 nomen Ready was eager, or " yape," as the Scotch call it, 
 for a transaction; and, having nothing to boast of but her 
 patrimony of twelve hundred and fifty, she made the most 
 of what she had; and the never a man of all she had ever 
 spoken to but knew, as well as he did the number of his 
 own fingers, the exact sum, to the odd fifty, which she was 
 willing to give as the consideration. Many a dozen of 
 suitors had heard her set forth her mercantile recommen- 
 dation; but, then, she was the last of five, who had all died 
 of consumption leaving her the heir of the small sums that 
 belonged to them; and this fact, which she tried assiduously 
 to conceal, had, in a great measure, destroyed her saleable
 
 CALEB CEABBIN. 199 
 
 capability, till the time when there appeared in the mart 
 Mr Caleb, who, instead of deeming it an objection, thought 
 it the consideration next best to the amount of her funds. 
 Well, without exhausting a lexicon upon the affair, we come 
 to the point, as cleverly as did the hero himself, who was, 
 in the thirteenth month after the death of his first wife, 
 duly and lawfully put in possession of Miss Amelia Reddie 
 and her twelve hundred and fifty. 
 
 " A deuced deal better than hosiery this ! " said Caleb to 
 himself, on his marriage night; "for here have I not made 
 two thousand two hundred and fifty pounds in one year 
 and a month, without ever a shop, or signboard, or risk or 
 trouble at all ! " 
 
 If we were to say that there was an atom of affection in 
 a concern of this kind, we would assuredly be doing not 
 only Mr Caleb a great injustice, but be committing a libel 
 on the taste of our sex; and, to be sure, save for the money, 
 there was none at all. But we have more to say; and that 
 is, that, where a man does not love the woman (as why 
 should he ?) whom he has married for money, it follows, as 
 a natural corollary, that he wishes her dead. With "a 
 trembling hand," like that of the poet Tibullus, he would 
 hold the fair one, when dying; but then the hand would 
 tremble lest she should recover, not lest she should go the 
 way of aU flesh. But, alas for the plans of mortals ! th< 
 greatest geniuses sometimes fail in noble undertakings; 
 and, not long after Mr Crabbin had begun to discover ail- 
 ing symptoms on the part of his helpmate, the truth brokf 
 upon him that he was about to become a father; and a 
 father, too, in good time, he became, of as healthy a child 
 as ever blessed a living husband who liked his wife. 
 
 " If I am to have half-a-dozen, or mayhap a dozen, of 
 these," said he, "the devil a merchant that ever sold 
 cheaper than he bought, ever made so bad a bargain. 
 Every one of these creatures will cost, at least, three hun-
 
 200 TALES OP THE BOBBERS. 
 
 dred pounds; so that, if I shall have six of them, I will be 
 a loser to the extent of five hundred and fifty." 
 
 The speech was prophetic; for every year, for a period of 
 six, the consumptive Mrs Amelia Crabbin presented her 
 husband with a healthy pledge; and on every birth-day Mr 
 Caleb made a speech almost the same, but with increased 
 lugubrity. But for this he might have found very good 
 authority among the ancients; and if he had known of that 
 strange man who wept at the birth of a child, or of Xeno- 
 phon, who continued the job of a sacrifice he was at, though 
 a messenger told him of the death of his boy, he would have 
 thought them very sensible men, of a very different kidney 
 from the fool, John Zopilah, who died of joy, when he heard 
 that his wife had brought him an heir male. But it availed 
 Mr Caleb nothing. 
 
 "Better," said he, "I had stuck by the counter; for I 
 might have become bankrupt as often as I chose; and, if I 
 had made the never a penny by it, I might at least have 
 got quit of my creditors; but children are a sort of creditors 
 that a man cannot sweep off by any means, not even the 
 famous cessio." 
 
 And what made the matter more intolerable was, that 
 all this time, when Mrs Crabbin was thriving so excellently 
 well, in the way of adding to the number of the human 
 species, she was gradually declining in health, having, by 
 the time she had the third child, become so lean and shri- 
 velled, that neither the Atlas nor the Hercules would have 
 insured her life at a premium of fifty per cent. Yet, as we 
 have said, three more followed in good time, and healthier 
 creatures never opened their eyes on an evil world. Mrs 
 Amelia Crabbin had now, however, done her worst; and, 
 having been wasted away to a mere sigh, she one night 
 took Mr Caleb round the neck, and, weeping bitterly, told 
 him she was going, in the midst of her prosperity, to where 
 she once thought she would have gone six years before
 
 CALEB CRABBIN. 201 
 
 even where her five sisters were the grave; recommending 
 to him to take care of the twelve hundred and fifty, for the 
 sake of the six children she had left, as every penny of it, 
 and more, would be needed by the dear orphans. Mr Caleb 
 wept too; but it was at the touching allusion she had made 
 to the danger she had escaped, of dying before the first of 
 the children was born; and Mrs Amelia, seeing what she 
 conceived to be undoubted evidence of his affection, hung 
 awhile upon his neck, and then bid him bring in every one 
 of the six. They were accordingly ranged by the side of 
 her bed. 
 
 "Now, my little ones," she said to them, tenderly, "Caleb, 
 Andrew, Maria, George, Amelia, and Augustus, your mother 
 is going to die, and you may never see her again after this 
 hour. Mr Crabbin," she continued, looking to her husband, 
 "you must know that these children are the last of the 
 blood of our Eeddies, and proud am I to think that it has 
 pleased Heaven that I should be the means of thus leaving 
 so many scions of our ancient race, that there is no chance 
 of the name being forgotten, seeing that they have all 
 three names, the middle one being Reddie in every in- 
 stance. I hope they will multiply as I have done. Bless 
 you, my dear children ! Your father will protect you; and 
 thankful am I that the twelve hundred and fifty is yet all 
 left, so that you will get your shares when you come to be 
 of age." 
 
 In an hour afterwards Mrs Amelia Crabbin was no more, 
 and in three days afterwards she was buried. 
 
 "It is finished," said the husband; "and a fair specula- 
 tion never turned up an uglier balance, since the days of the 
 bubble of the South Sea." 
 
 So he took to real weeping; and there was not a friend 
 that came to give him consolation, but went away with the 
 impression that he had been one of the most loving of hus- 
 bands, and Has one of the tenderest of men. Among those
 
 202 TALES OP THE BOBDERS. 
 
 visitors, were two or three acquaintances of his deceased 
 wife, and one or two of them possessed even more than 
 twelve hundred and fifty. So, Mr Caleb, seeing through 
 his wet eyes that his grief took with them very well, con- 
 tinued the indications a very easy process, seeing he had 
 only to look to the debit and credit of his speculation to 
 make the tears drop as fast as hailstones. 
 
 " It's a heavy loss you have sustained, Sir Crabbin," said 
 Miss Jean Gibbs. 
 
 " Very heavy loss," rejoined he, with emphasis on the 
 principal word. 
 
 " But the children are a consolation." . 
 
 " To be sure they are," answered Caleb; " and I have six 
 of them, and now, you see, all without a female to take 
 charge of them." 
 
 The hint did not take, as the saying goes; and Miss Jean 
 having departed, and Miss Isabella Gentle, who had also 
 a competency, having arrived, he tried the same plan with 
 her; for his spirit for speculation was still strong; and he 
 expected, yet, to make a far more successful hit than he 
 had even done in the case of Miss Belinda Yellowlees. 
 Now, Miss Isabella was just as sincere in her admiration of 
 his sorrow as was Miss Jean Gibbs; and all that was gone 
 over about the loss he had sustained, and the consolation of 
 the children, and the feeling he exhibited, as became a good 
 husband and a loving father. But the moment he made a 
 hint about the poor creatures having no female to look after 
 them, the same effect was as evident as in the case of Miss 
 Jean for Miss Isabella, for a certainty, did not seem to 
 relish it. 
 
 " All this may come of my being too eager and too soon," 
 said he. " But I fear these six children will be stumbling- 
 blocks in the way of my farther enterprise; for a woman 
 will not give so much for a man with sir children, as she 
 would do for himself. Had my second transaction come up
 
 CALEB CRABBIN. 203 
 
 to the first, I might to-day have been an independent man. 
 But a third may do better; and, if it don't, it shall not, by 
 Hymen, be Mr Caleb Crabbin that will be to blame." 
 
 Nor, indeed, could it be alleged that he spoke falsely; for, 
 as soon as the proper time came, he set about a very vigo- 
 rous search for a third helpmate in every direction where he 
 thought he had any chance. He tried again Miss Jean 
 Gibbs and Miss Isabella Gentle; but the children formed 
 an objection which they could not get over. 
 
 " I will never marry a man with six children no nor 
 five, nor four, nor three, nor two," said Miss Jean. 
 
 " I would far rather live and die an old maid, than become 
 the slave of another woman's family," was the reply of Miss 
 Isabella. 
 
 And then he tried Miss Julia Cross, who had something 
 of a lying stock, though not much, and her answer was just 
 as peremptory. 
 
 " I hold the woman to be mad, Mr Caleb Crabbin," said 
 she, "who would undertake the charge of six children. 
 One might as well become a schoolmistress at once." 
 
 And after this rebuff, he tried Miss Angelina Crabbe, 
 who had an annuity of somewhere about seventy -five 
 pounds, besides about three hundred of old savings; but 
 Angelina said that she would not be a stepmother for the 
 whole earth. 
 
 " I see it will not do," said he, after some farther rejec- 
 tions. - "Unless I take a wife with nothing, I will never 
 get another, where it is known that I am burdened with six 
 children. But he who takes a wife with nothing is but a 
 sorry trafficker; and the never a wife with nothing, were 
 she as fair as Venus, will Caleb Crabbin marry in this 
 world. I will pack off the whole crew, and try my fortune 
 under other colours." 
 
 The resolution thus formed he put in execution, by get- 
 ting the whole of his children boarded with friends who
 
 204 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 lived at a distance, upon the pretence that he was going to 
 take a trip away somewhere abroad. Having achieved this 
 preliminary, he set off for the nearest good watering-place, 
 being no other than the noted Pitcaithly, where so many 
 " wantcrs," have, with various success, been supplied; and 
 he had not been a week there when he fell in with a buxom 
 widow of five-and-thirty, who was reported as being worth 
 not a jot less than one hundred and fifty pounds a-year, 
 secured on the strong Atlas, by the providence of her de- 
 ceased husband. The name she carried, Mrs Jemima 
 Bowsie, was a mixture of her own maiden name and the 
 surname of her husband, very well blended; and she car- 
 ried herself with such an air of frankness, surrounded with 
 the eclat of her fortune, which she had taken care to blaze 
 pretty well, that Mr Caleb Crabbin was immediately struck. 
 
 "That is my mark," said he, "as sure as was Belinda 
 Yellowlees; and, if I'm not worth the purchase at one hun- 
 dred and fifty pounds per annum, on the life of Mrs Jemima 
 Bowsie, I have lost all my saleable commodity." 
 
 One who had twice sold himself, and offered himself for 
 sale a score of times over, had no difficulty in getting mat- 
 ters placed in a train for a new offer; and an hour had 
 scarcely elapsed after the monologue we have mentioned, 
 when Mr Caleb Crabbin and Mrs Jemima Bowsie were 
 walking and talking together as if they had been ac- 
 quainted from the period of conning the alphabet. Nor 
 was their intimacy long limited to talking a-field; for he 
 found his way to the house where she lodged, and she 
 found her way to the house where he had taken up his 
 quarters, and, in the course of these meetings, mutual hints 
 and questions tended towards the expression of mutual 
 wishes. 
 
 u By the way, Mr Crabbin," said Mrs Jemima, one even- 
 ing when they were sitting together in her lodgings, " I have 
 a question to put to you; and, as you respect a widow, left,
 
 CALEB CRABBIK". 
 
 205 
 
 as it were, aloiie in the world, you will answer me according 
 to 3 our conscience." 
 
 "That will I, Mrs Bowsie," answered Caleb, "as sin- 
 cerely as if you were my wedded wife." 
 
 "That is tenderly and beautifully indited, Mr Crabbin," 
 answered she. "Pray, sir, is the Atlas a strong com- 
 pany?" 
 
 " I believe it is a very strong concern, madam,' replied 
 he; "not much less so, I fancy, than the Royal, where I 
 happen to have two thousand pounds deposited on an 
 operating account. But might I have the great boldness, 
 madam, to ask you why you put that question to me?" 
 
 "I am not sure," replied Mrs Jemima; "yet, let me 
 see. Why, there can't be much harm in it either, only 
 one does not like to trumpet forth her private affairs. 
 But then it is to be remembered that I am a lonely crea- 
 ture in the world; and to whom can an unprotected widow 
 speak, if it isn't to one who is just in her own situation 1- 
 for you hinted to me that your wife has gone, and left you 
 also solitary." 
 
 "Too true," answered Caleb, affecting some ocular mois- 
 ture. " My house is indeed empty enough. Indeed I have 
 the key of it in my pocket; and one who has the never a 
 one to speak to at home just wanders about where the 
 fancy lists." 
 
 " How our positions and sentiments do coincide 1 replied 
 she. "Well, as to the reason for my putting the question 
 about the strength of the Atlas; this," she continued, as 
 she opened a box, and took out a policy "this may explain 
 it." And she handed the policy to Mr Caleb Crabbin. 
 
 "An annuity policy for one hundred and fifty, for the 
 natural life," said he, as he affected surprise at what he 
 knew as well as he did the amount of the sums possessed 
 by his two deceased wives. "A handsome thing, madam, 
 of a certainty."
 
 206 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Very well for two single people," rejoined she, senti- 
 mentally; " but believe me, sir, I would not have put the 
 question, had it not been that a female is apt to get ner- 
 vous where her all is laid out on the security of one con- 
 cern." 
 
 " There need be never a tone of apology about the mat- 
 ter, madam; for, to be plain with you, I often make in- 
 quiries about the stability of the Royal, where, as I told 
 you, I have two thousand pounds deposited on an operat- 
 ing account; and, to be plainer still, I do not hesitate to 
 tell you, madam, that my house being, as I said, locked up 
 in these gloomy days of my widowhood, I carry about with 
 me my receipt. Here it is." (Opening his pocket-book.) 
 "You may take a glance at it just as I have done at your 
 policy. Giff-gaff, as we say, makes good friends." 
 
 "And you have just hit upon the very reason," replied 
 she, "why I carry about my policy with me; for, where 
 there is no one at home to take an interest in one's affairs, 
 or a charge of their effects, one feels uneasy about a valu- 
 able document, such as these in our hands. Of course you 
 do not tell any one of the question I put to you; because, 
 you know, the Atlas might come on me for damages." 
 
 "No fear on't, madam," said Caleb; "but pray hem! 
 hem ! is it your intention, Mrs Bowsie, ever again to change 
 your name?" 
 
 "And, pray, Mr Grabbin," replied she, holding away her 
 head, " is it your intention ever to give yours to another 
 woman?" 
 
 " The never a doubt on't, madam," rejoined Mr Caleb. 
 " Loneliness is poor company; and I would marry to-mor- 
 row, were it for nothing else than to produce some stir of 
 life in my deserted house." 
 
 " And, for society's sake, I woukl almost be tempted to 
 change condition, too," rejoined she, rising to put past the 
 policy and conceal her blushes.
 
 CALEB CKABBIN. 207 
 
 Unluckily, at this interesting moment, au acquaintance 
 entered, and put an end to a conversation that was clearly 
 tending towards a crisis, to which the boldness of Mr Caleb 
 would soon have brought it. But enough had been said to 
 dream upon; and by the time that the two met next day 
 in the woods, the matter had been arranged in the minds of 
 both. The question was "popped," a gracious answer re- 
 turned, and, as Caleb had clearly induced her to believe, 
 without any direct statement, that he had not a single 
 child to mar Mrs Jemima's happiness, he saw the necessity 
 of getting the transaction concluded without the loss of a 
 moment of time, lest discoveries might break it up. But 
 the widow was just as anxious for quick despatch as he 
 was; and he did not fail to take advantage of so favourable 
 a circumstance. So to Perth he went, and got all things put 
 in readiness for a proclamation of banns. This preliminary 
 was gone through on the following Sunday; on the Monday 
 after, Mr Caleb Crabbin and Mrs Jemima Bowsie were man 
 and wife; and thus had Caleb disposed of himself, for the 
 third time, on terms which he conceived to form the ele- 
 ments of a good bargain. 
 
 These matters we have run over rapidly, leaving it, of 
 course, to be understood that several explanations such as 
 the localities of their locked-up houses, their connections, 
 and so forth, were mutually made and mutually relied on; 
 and it becomes us, in the same manner, to leave to the fancy 
 all the pretty excursions and conversations that lasted for 
 the legitimate period of the sweet moon, at the end of which 
 the couple arrived in Edinburgh to take possession of the 
 husband's deserted house. And, to be sure, the house was 
 empty enough, in so far as regarded human beings; for 
 there was no one in it, and Mrs Jemima Crabbin surveyed 
 it as her future home with no small expression of satisfac- 
 tion. A new servant was got. A week passed, and all 
 was as it should be not a word of the six children having,
 
 208 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 as yet, been uttered by Caleb, and no one of the neighbours 
 having taken it upon them to supply the want of know- 
 ledge which Caleb conceived to be necessary to a continua- 
 tion of his happiness. On the eighth day, they went out 
 together to draw the quarterly annuity from the agent of 
 the Atlas Company; and never was a man better pleased 
 with himself than Caleb, when he pocketed the thirty- 
 seven pounds ten shillings, the first earnest of many draw- 
 ings, even so long as the life of his helpmate. This was 
 clearly not fated to last; because it behoved Caleb to make 
 the necessary disclosure, to prevent its being made, perhaps, 
 in a manner fraught with more pain to her who apparently 
 looked forward to a life of genteel ease. It was clear that 
 the sooner the disclosure was made the better; and a stronger 
 cup of tea than usual (brewed on the head of the quarter's 
 annuity) having been served up, he sat ruminating on the 
 best way of breaking the intelligence. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, Mr Crabbin? " said the lady, 
 as she sat filling out the first cup of tea, and while the 
 door stood open that the servant might bring in the toast. 
 
 "There he is, you little darlings," said Mrs Reddie of 
 Pennicuick, as she entered; and at the same instant 
 Master Caleb Reddie Crabbin, Master Andrew Reddie 
 Crabbin, and Miss Maria Reddie Crabbin, rushed forward 
 with a united cry of " Papa ! papa! papa!" and hung round 
 his neck, and jumped on his knee, with a demonstration of 
 affection that a father, in ordinary circumstances, would have 
 been delighted to see. 
 
 " I couldna keep them awa, sir," said the woman. " They 
 would be in, reason or nane." 
 
 Mrs Crabbin sat with the teapot in her hand, held nearly 
 as high as her mouth, and contemplated the affectionate 
 scene, with open lips and wide staring eyes; but never a 
 word had Mr Caleb said, though the dear little ones hugged 
 him more fondly than ever.
 
 CALEB CRABBIN. 209 
 
 " Are these your children, Mr Crabbin?" at last said the 
 wife. 
 
 Caleb looked at her, and saw something like a smile play- 
 ing round the corner of her lips, in the midst of sufficient 
 indications of surprise; but the meaning thereof transcended 
 all his powers of construction. 
 
 "The children, you hear, say I'm their father," replied 
 he, still gazing in her face, to try if he could catch again 
 the same symptom he had observed before; and, to be sure, 
 he did catch it, and, with it, another symptom that asto- 
 nished him more still; for Mrs Crabbin immediately ejacu- 
 lated 
 
 " Why did you not tell me of this, Mr Crabbin? What 
 nice, dear, sweet creatures! I'm delighted to see them. 
 Come to me, George; come to me, Andrew; and, Maria, 
 you are the prettiest little girl in the world." 
 
 "What an amiable wife I have got!" ejaculated he, as 
 he saw her take the little ones and fondle them as kindly 
 as if they had been her own. 
 
 " When saw ye the others," said Mrs Eeddie " George, 
 Amelia, and Augustus? Are they weel aneugh?" 
 
 "Three more!" ejaculated Mrs Crabbin. 
 
 And Caleb again searched her face, to see if there was not 
 some irony lurking about the muscles; but the never a trace 
 could he find but satisfaction. He was puzzled as never 
 man was puzzled since the days of (Edipus. 
 
 " Have I been at all these pains," muttered he, " to con- 
 ceal what yields her pleasure rather than chagrin?" 
 
 "Now, Mr Crabbin," said his wife, as she still fondled 
 the children, "you must send to-morrow for the others, 
 that I may see them; for I long to show them that I 
 shall be as kind to them as would have been their own 
 mother." 
 
 " The never such another woman is to be found in all 
 Christendom!" muttered Caleb. 
 
 G2
 
 210 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 " Jenny," cried Mrs Crabbin, " bring cups here, that th 
 children may have their tea." 
 
 And so the cups were brought; and the whole group, Mrs 
 Reddie whose mouth had been closed up by the effect of 
 the extraordinary scene included, sat down in the most 
 perfect harmony. 
 
 On the very next day, a messenger was sent off for Mas- 
 ter George Reddie Crabbin, Miss Amelia Reddie Crabbin, 
 and Master Augustus Reddie Crabbin; and they were ex- 
 pected to arrive at the house of their father within three 
 days afterwards. Meanwhile, Mrs Crabbin displayed still 
 the same degree of kindness she had at first exhibited; and 
 Caleb continued to wonder more and more at conduct that 
 seemed to set at defiance all the matrimonial maxims he 
 had got proved to him by the many women he had solicited 
 to become his wife. Nor can there be a doubt that he was 
 pleased if, indeed, it might not be said that he was de- 
 lighted; for it cannot be denied that the weight of the 
 secret he had carried about had materially interfered with 
 his connubial happiness; and even the light of the honey- 
 moon had been dashed with streaks of shade, thrown up 
 from the cavern where the dread fact had lain concealed. 
 
 On the day on which the additional children were ex- 
 pected, Mrs Crabbin was occupied in making preparations 
 for their home-coming. A thousand little matters were 
 gone about with maternal assiduity; and, everything having 
 been arranged, the couple and the three children sat down 
 to tea, much 'in the same spirit they had done on the pre- 
 vious occasion. It was about five o'clock; and the coach 
 would arrive somewhere about that time. 
 
 " Here they come at last," said Caleb, as he listened to a 
 tread of many steps on the stair, accompanied by the clear 
 clack of the tongues of happy children. 
 
 And, to be sure, in they came; but there happened to be 
 no fewer than five, accompanied by an old nurse; and they
 
 CALEB CRABBIN, 211 
 
 had uo sooner entered, than they ran forward to Mrs Crab- 
 bin, crying out " Mamma ! mamma ! mamma !" all together, 
 and hanging round her neck, and kissing her, and climbing 
 on her knees, just in the same affectionate manner that had 
 been exhibited by Mr Crabbin's children on the prior occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs Jemima Crabbin was busy with the face 
 of Mr Caleb, to see what she could find there; but the man, 
 who never had any great sense of justice, showed no smile, 
 as she had done when his children came so unexpectedly 
 in upon her. A sombre gloom covered his face, and he sat 
 and looked as glum as he did on every occasion when Mrs 
 Amelia Crabbin had brought him a child; and, probably, 
 if there had been any deeper shade, or rather five times as 
 deep as that expression, it would have found a place upon 
 his face. 
 
 "Are all these your children, madam?" said Caleb, 
 with a voice that expressed with the question a tendency 
 to choke. 
 
 " Yes," answered Mrs Crabbin ; " but you see, my dear 
 sir, you beat me; for, while I have only five, you have 
 six." 
 
 "Eleven of a family to support on two thousand pounds 
 of principal, at four per cent., and one hundred and fifty per 
 annum on the life of Mrs Jemima Crabbin ! " groaned Mr 
 Caleb. "A deuced poor trafficker I ana proved to be! 
 Would I not have been better as a hosier ? " 
 
 " A hosier ! " ejaculated Mrs Crabbin. " I took you for 
 a gentleman, as Mr Frederick Bowsie was, every inch of 
 him." 
 
 "And I took you for a solitary widow, as you led me to 
 believe," responded he. 
 
 "And so, to be sure, I took you for a solitary widower, 
 carrying the key of your house in your pocket, as you pre- 
 viously told me," was the just reply.
 
 212 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 At this juncture the conversation was interrupted by the 
 entrance of the other three Crabbins, who acted over again 
 the scene of their brothers and sister; and thus there were 
 brought on the carpet no fewer than eleven of a family, 
 one-half strangers to their half-brothers and sisters, and all 
 talking, and laughing, and romping in a manner that might 
 have afforded no small joy to well-conditioned parents. 
 Yet Mr Caleb was not to be cajoled by their fun into any- 
 thing like good humour, for no man likes to behold the 
 evidence of the almost total defeat of a darling project, 
 which he had held to be the pride and profit of his exist- 
 ence. Nor was the bringing of eight more tea-cups, in- 
 stantly ordered by Mrs Crabbin, likely to effect what the 
 romping of the " dear ones " had not been able to accom- 
 plish; and it is impossible to say how long he would have 
 remained under the cloud of his gloom, had not Mrs Crab- 
 bin risen, and, going round to him by the backs of the circle 
 of children, gently and playfully clapped him on the hang- 
 ing clouded cheek. 
 
 "Come, now, Mr Crabbin," said she, "you see we are 
 just in the position of the pot and kettle that fell into war- 
 fare, calling each other blackamores. You have cheated 
 me, and I have cheated you, and therefore are we on a par. 
 No good can come of complaining where each has so good 
 a rejoinder; and, to be plain with you, if you gloom, I'll 
 gloom, having just as good a right; whereas, if you are 
 well pleased, and love my five, I shall be well pleased, and 
 love your six; and thus we may make the best of a bad 
 bargain. What say you, Mr Caleb Crabbin ? " 
 
 Caleb threw his eye around the table, and groaned; but 
 necessity is a strong monitor; and so he turned round 
 where there was a matrimonial kiss awaiting him and, 
 having taken the offering for better and for worse 
 
 "I believe, Jemima, you are right, after all," said he; 
 " but still it is a bad business; for, if we add five or six
 
 CALEB CKABBIN. 213 
 
 more children to that small army, we may come to 
 starve." 
 
 "You can begin business again as a merchant (but not in 
 the hosiery way) with your two thousand, and I shall be as 
 frugal a wife as ever made the two ends of coming and going 
 out meet." 
 
 Caleb meditated. 
 
 "You are right again, Jemima," said he; "for, after all, 
 I have not been happy under the trade of wiving I have 
 driven for so many years always idle, and pointed out as 
 one who lives on the means of his wives so, to be sure, 
 I'll immediately betake myself to an honourable calling, 
 and before I die I may yet acquire the reputation of what 
 is called a respectable member of society. For true it is," 
 he added, "that a fortune-hunter, even if he has run down 
 the game of thousands, is only a fortune-hunter to the end 
 of the chapter. Out of my evil, you see,, has come my 
 good; and you, who a little ago seemed my bad angel, 
 have turned out to be my good. So here be all our strife 
 ended." 
 
 And another embrace settled the affair. 
 
 "Now," said Caleb, "you'll be kind enough to tell me 
 the names of these children. By my faith, they are pretty 
 ones as pretty as my own ! " 
 
 " This is William this is George this is Andrew this 
 is Mary and this is Margaret." 
 
 "Well, we must fall upon some way of distinguishing 
 those of mine and those of yours, who carry the same 
 name. Let it be your George and my George, your An- 
 drew and my Andrew. I see now no difficulty about the 
 matter." 
 
 "Neither do I," answered Jemima. "All we have to 
 provide against is to avoid calling our own mutual chil- 
 dren George or Andrew, for a third of the name wouldn't 
 do."
 
 214 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 " Neither it would," rejoined he. 
 
 According to these arrangements, Mr Crabbin commenced 
 business again; and, having been taught experience by his 
 former failure, did very well We believe there were at 
 least two or three additional children born afterwards; but 
 that was of no consequence, because Mr Crabbin's rn~ans 
 became, by his own industry, proportionate. A good les- 
 son hangeth by the peg of our tale, or we are somewhat 
 out
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 215 
 
 THE SERJEANT'S TALES. 
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 
 
 SERJEANT SQUARE again resumed the narrative of Ms ad- 
 ventures: 
 
 There is a strange feeling, that every reflecting person 
 must have often been conscious of, accompanying the idea 
 of time. We feel as if in contact with the past, as far back 
 as our memory can reach. If our reading has been exten- 
 sive, it requires reflection to disentangle the events of early 
 ages, as well as those of a more recent date; and, even as 
 regards the time to come, we feel as if it also were for us, 
 until the melancholy certainty of the shortness of life forces 
 us back upon the present moment, which, until passed, we 
 cannot call our own. Neither is there a situation in which 
 we can be placed, in which we do not feel some cause of 
 uneasiness, from the faintest shade of unfulfilled anticipa- 
 tion, to the depth of real suffering. 
 
 Gloomy were the rejections that haunted my mind for 
 the first three weeks after my arrival in London. Often 
 and far as I had been from Scotland, never until now had 
 I been home-sick if it could be called so in one who had 
 neither kindred nor home in the world. Destitute of kin- 
 dred as I was, the feeling seemed to extend my relationship: 
 every Scotchman being my relation, and his accents music 
 to my ears. An unaccountable melancholy was upon me; 
 and I felt a strange presentiment as if some evil were about 
 to befall me. I felt no pleasure, as I was wont, in walking 
 about. My timo was spent at my lodgings, in Lower 
 Thames Street, save when I went occasionally to the neigh- 
 bourhood of Covent Garden, to visit Captaii H . Even
 
 216 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 these visits had become irksome, as no good seemed likely 
 to arise to me from them. I was always received in the 
 most friendly manner. Still there was a constraint upon 
 me I could not overcome, arising from the relative situation 
 in which we had formerly stood towards each other as pri- 
 vate seaman and captain. I would hare felt far more at 
 my ease had he treated me in a more distant manner. 
 Frugal as my mode of life was, my cash wore done apace, 
 and I had fixed upon no mode of obtaining a new supply. 
 Once or twice I had made inquiries among the shipping for 
 a situation, without success. Perhaps the fault was my 
 own, as I was rather nice to please, and not over anxious to 
 go to sea if I could do better. I hoped that the captain or 
 his friend would propose something for my advantage; and 
 thus the time had run on, while my lowness of spirits in- 
 creased upon me. The weather had become wet and foggy. 
 I cared not to leave the house, and remained at home for 
 several days, so depressed that I even wished I were dead, 
 and away from a world in which I had suffered so much. 
 The pleasures I had also enjoyed were entirely blotted out 
 from my recollection. All my life appeared to have been a 
 scene of suffering, with no prospect before me but further 
 misery and endurance. 
 
 This was a state of mind that could not long endure 
 without leading to a fatal result. I began to regard suicide 
 as the only remedy for my misery; and even to look upon 
 it as a crime of no very deep atrocity. Yet there was 
 a feeling within me that made death as a remedy horrible. 
 At length, by an effort that cost me more to accomplish 
 than anything I had ever done before or since, I shook off 
 this, the darkest moral incubus of the darkest period of my 
 life, and, after an absence of ten days, waited upon Captain 
 H to bid him farewell, as I was resolved to leave Lon- 
 don, and enter on board the first vessel wherever bound for, 
 and in any capacity I could obtain a berth. When I reached
 
 THE IMPENDENT MARRIAGE. 217 
 
 the house, I found it shut up, and could obtain no informa- 
 tion whither he had gone. All I learned was, that they had 
 left the house three days before, it was believed for the 
 country. I felt indignant and hurt, although I had no 
 reason, at this sudden departure. I had no claim upon 
 him. I had ever been overpaid for any service I had ren- 
 dered. Still, this was not my feeling at the time; and I 
 bent my steps towards my lodgings in no enviable mood, 
 cither with myself or the world. A numbing sensation 
 was upon me. I felt once more alone in the world; and 
 passed through the busy crowds that thronged the streets, 
 almost unconscious of the presence of a human being, until 
 I had reached Tower Hill, Avhen my attention was roused 
 by a crowd of men and boys, who were hooting and jostling 
 an old man of rather respectable appearance, whose im- 
 patient anger caused them only to increase their shouts and 
 annoyance. They were calling to him, " Rebel Scot," and 
 "Scottish traitor;" and crying, "Kollhim in the kennel," 
 " Duck him in the river." I was in a humour to quarrel 
 with any one, or even dare a host. My blood was on fire 
 in a moment, for the old man upbraided them in Scotch, 
 although tinctured by a foreign accent. He was tall, and 
 had once been a very powerful man. His hat had been 
 knocked off, and his grey hairs were in disorder, save what 
 were retained by a neat cue that bobbed from side to side, 
 as he was pushed, or turned to aim a blow at his cowardly 
 assailants, many of whom, I blush to say, had reached man's 
 estate. In an instant I was by his side, and shouted, to 
 overtop the noise 
 
 " For shame, to use an old man and a stranger so ! Is 
 that like Englishmen?" 
 
 For a moment there was a pause; it was but for a moment 
 My Scottish accent turned them as much against me as him 
 whom I wished to befriend. 
 
 "They are both rebel Scots serve the.Pi alike!" shouted
 
 218 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 a stout young fellow, as he aimed a blow at me. The others 
 joined in the cry. The blow took effect upon the side of my 
 head. I was stunned a little; but returned it with so good 
 effect that he staggered back a pace or two. The blood 
 flowed from my cheek, which was cut, pretty fast. In a 
 moment the shouting ceased, and "A ring! a ring!" was 
 the cry. " Give the Scottish sailor fair play he has pluck 
 in him." "Go it, Joe!" cried others; and their attention 
 was directed from the old man to me and my opponent. A 
 ring was formed. I gave my jacket and hat to the old man 
 to hold, and to it we went; but, tall as I was and stout, I 
 was forced to give in after a severe contest; my enemy's 
 science prevailed; but my object was attained. The old 
 man and myself were no longer hated. " I was a bit of 
 good stuff," they said, " and had stood well up to fighting 
 Joe of Smithfield." Even Joe said he would give any one 
 a beating who molested us. We were conducted to a pub- 
 lic-house, where I got myself cleaned and my bruises dressed. 
 The old gentleman gave me a thousand thanks for the part 
 I had taken in his rescue, and seemed to feel much more 
 for the injuries I had received than I did myself. As soon 
 as we had had some slight refreshment, he caused a coach 
 to be brought, and accompanied me to my lodgings. Dur- 
 ing our short drive, I learned that he had only arrived from 
 Holland the evening before, and was a stranger in London. 
 He said he had resided for the last ten years there; that 
 he had not been in Scotland for many years; and that he 
 was on his way to it to lay his bones in the graves of his 
 fathers. There was a reservedness of manner that interested 
 me much in the man; and every time I looked to him, I 
 grew the more certain that his face had been familiar to me 
 at some former period of my life. Even his voice fell on 
 my ear like some well-known sound. Neither of us had 
 inquired the name of the other. The coach stopped at the 
 door of my lodging, into which he assisted me; and I im-
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MAEKIAGE. 219 
 
 mediately went to bed at his request, he promising to call 
 upon me in the morning. 
 
 After passing a restless night, I was awoke in the morn- 
 ing by my landlady entering my room to inquire if I would 
 Bee Lieutenant Speare, the old gentleman who had accom- 
 panied me home the evening before. Although I felt rather 
 feverish, I replied that I would be glad to see him. In a 
 few minutes I was astonished to see him enter in an un- 
 dress, imtil he informed me that he had been so fortunate as 
 to obtain a room from my landlady; and. if I was agreeable, 
 he wished to breakfast along with me and spend the day, 
 as I was not, he felt assured, in a state to leave my room. 
 I did not conceal that I felt very unwell, and would be 
 happy to have his company. After he was seated, I in- 
 quired by what accident he had become involved with the 
 rabble upon Tower Hill. After a short pause 
 
 " You and I," replied he, " are countrymen, but strangers 
 to each other. From the disinterested manner in which you 
 interfered in my behalf, I feel that I may trust you with my 
 secret. Even if we differ in opinion, you will not betray me; 
 I therefore shall make no reserve. 
 
 "I was born and bred an adherent of the exiled royal 
 family of Great Britain; have bled in their cause; suffered 
 exile from all I held dear; and even now I tread my native 
 land with a halter about my neck, which one word from 
 you might attach to the fatal tree that has ceased to have 
 any horrors for me, were it not for a sacred duty I have to 
 perform before death put a period to my long life of suffer- 
 ing. Yesterday afternoon I had only been a few hours in 
 London, for the first time in my life; yet its gloomy Tower, 
 and blood-drinking Tower Hill, had long been familiar to 
 rny mind, as scenes of cruelty and tyranny, where the best 
 blood of Scotland was poured out like water to satisfy the 
 thirst of a usurper. I had surveyed the scene for some 
 time in silent agony, when my oppressed feelings called be-
 
 220 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 fore me the heroes, as I had seen and admired them, in 
 manly vigour, struggling in a righteous cause, with the sad 
 termination they experienced, when their headless trunks 
 were insulted by an unfeeling crowd. All caution left me, 
 and I expressed my thoughts aloud. I was overheard and 
 assailed. You delivered me. I acknowledge my imprudence; 
 and, on your account, lament what I have done." 
 
 " On my account there is no cause of regret," said I. " I 
 am happy your unguarded language had no more fatal re- 
 sult. You secret is safe in my keeping. I myself have been 
 a sufferer through that fatal affair, although too young to 
 distinguish between parties; for the miseries of civil war 
 fall heaviest upon the innocent, the females and children. 
 By it I was deprived of both my parents, and thrown des- 
 titute upon the world, without friends or home. If the 
 great will struggle, urged by ambition or party zeal, what 
 have the poor to do with their strife, who can, at the best, 
 only change their taskmasters 1 Had my father remained 
 in Edinburgh, my mother had not broken her heart, and I 
 had not been an outcast orphan boy." 
 
 "Edinburgh, did you say, young man 1 ?" replied he. 
 " Few joined the Prince from that city." His voice fal- 
 tered; his whole frame shook. He gazed fixedly upon me 
 for a short time; then, starting to his feet, he staggered to 
 my bedside, supporting himself by the bedpost. " What is 
 your name?" he eagerly said. 
 
 "John Square," I replied. 
 
 Uttering a cry that resembled a heavy groan, he sunk 
 upon the bed, and, grasping my hand, bathed it with tears; 
 then, clasping me to his breast, kissed my forehead. His 
 heart was too full to speak; he held me in his embrace, and 
 gazed upon my face. I was so much amazed at the strange 
 conduct of the old man, that it was some time before I re- 
 covered from my surprise, or could inquire the cause of his, 
 to me, unaccountable proceeding. Still grasping my hand
 
 THE IMPEtIENI MAfcPJAGE. 221 
 
 " Now, \velcome death ! " said he. " My mission is accom- 
 plished. I shall die in peace. I have found thee, my long- 
 forsaken and injured boy." 
 
 It was now my turn to feel the utmost agitation. Did 
 my father really stand before me ? I feared to ask the ques- 
 tion, yet burned to do so. 
 
 "Are you my father?" cried I. 
 
 " Alas ! no ! I am not your father," said he. " Yet I am 
 all the father you ever knew; and you were, and are, dear 
 to me as my own son. Ah, my poor Mary ! she was a kind 
 mother to you. Told she not the secret of your birth before 
 she died?" 
 
 "No," was my answer. "I was too young and thought- 
 less at the time. I recollect she called me to her bedside 
 often, and wept over me; but she only prayed, and blessed 
 me. She sent one of her neighbours, who was very at- 
 tentive, for the minister to come to her, saying she had 
 something important to intrust him with; but, before he 
 arrived, her mind began to wander, and she remained in 
 that condition until her death, two days after. She had 
 even forgot she had sent for the good man, who, after offer- 
 ing up a prayer, departed." I paused, for the old man wept 
 bitterly while I spake. I did respect his feelings; but my 
 own were too impetuous to be restrained. "Who was my 
 father, since you are not?" cried I. "Is he alive? If you 
 ever loved me, pause not a moment. Nay, I shall tear the 
 secret from you." And I started up in my bed, sore as I 
 was, and looked wildly at him, as he appeared to hesitate. 
 
 " Be composed, my dear John," said he. " It is a melan- 
 choly tale. I would more willingly spare your feelings 
 than wound them by the relation; but it were cruel now 
 to withhold it from you. You will have no cause to blush 
 for your relatives. My own history is so deeply inter- 
 woven with that of your parents, that I cannot disentangle 
 them, and therefore must give them, connected as they
 
 222 TALES OF THE BOEDEKS. 
 
 are. It was upon the borders of the romantic Esk I first 
 awoke to consciousness, in the hospitable house of your 
 grandfather, to whom my father had been head servant 
 for many years. I was within a few weeks of the same 
 age as John, your father, his third son. I was his foster- 
 brother and playfellow, unequal as was our rank. I loved 
 him with more than a brother's love, and would have risked 
 my life for him, had he been in danger. He was my young 
 master; his comfort was all my duty and care; and swiftly 
 the days and hours passed on, until the period arrived that 
 lie was to go to Edinburgh to attend the classes at the uni- 
 versity, and whither I was to accompany him. We were 
 both young and inexperienced. Your father was of a fear- 
 less, open, and generous temper; and his rank in life gave 
 him access to the best society in the city. At one of the 
 assemblies he became acquainted with a young lady, the 
 orphan daughter of an officer who had fallen in the wars of 
 Marlborough. She resided with two rich maiden aunts, 
 upon whom she depended for her present support and future 
 fortune. Their intimacy soon ripened, unfortunately, into 
 love. As poli tics raged at this time with a force and bitter- 
 ness that divided friends and relations, even the sacred 
 mysteries of love were interrupted by the offerings to the 
 stern genius of discord. Eose's aunts were stern Whigs, 
 supporters of what were then styled by us the Hanoverian 
 usurpers; and their only surviving brother was an officer 
 high of rank in their armies; while your grandfather was 
 faithful to his lawful king, and as true a Tory as ever lived 
 or bled for the Stewarts. Neither your father nor myself 
 had ever troubled ourselves about the rival factions; yet 
 we were, as we had been bred, staunch adherents to the royal 
 exiles; but Love is of no party, and we were both under his 
 influence. From the cause I have mentioned, your father's 
 visits were unacceptable at Eose's aunts; their interviews 
 were stolen, and, of course, more sweet. She was at times
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MAEEIAGE. 223 
 
 allowed to walk out for exercise, and to visit, but never un- 
 accompanied by her maid, who had been her servant before 
 her mother's death. She was a bar in my master's way; 
 and, if he dared to converse with his beloved, she would 
 have been kept entirely from his sight. To aid him in his 
 interviews, I. became acquainted with Mary, the servant, 
 and was soon as deep in love as my master. Little did our 
 young and joyous hearts dream of the bitter dregs that lay 
 in the cup of pleasure we quaffed in the hours of romance, 
 as we walked, or sat scarce in sight of each other, among 
 the cliffs and sheltered valleys of Arthur Seat. Nothing 
 but my love for your father could have blinded me to the 
 folly he was guilty of, and the ruin that awaited his future 
 prospects in life. As for myself, I could not be other than 
 I was. Mary was of my own rank, born to toil, and with 
 little to lose; while they had a fearful height to fall from, 
 if they wedded without consent of friends. But when, alas ! 
 did ever youthful lore calculate consequences aright, until 
 the calculation is useless? 
 
 " Thus intoxicated with love, the time ran on with un- 
 heeded speed; yet my master was unremitting in his studies. 
 He had, with the consent of his father, fixed upon the law 
 as his profession, as the political opinions of the latter gave 
 his son small chance of rising in the army. Eose and he 
 had often exchanged vows of mutual constancy, until more 
 fortunate times for their love should arrive. Your father 
 had pictured to himself speedy success at the bar; and the 
 first use he was to make of his fame was to claim your 
 mother from her aunts; and if they refused, as, from the 
 vain efforts he had made to gain their good graces, he had 
 every reason to expect, to wed her without their consent, 
 or one farthing of fortune. His father's consent he knew 
 he could not hope for before the marriage; but his forgive- 
 ness afterwards he had no doubt of obtaining. Thus had 
 he lulled himself into a pleasant dream of security, from
 
 224 TALES OP THE BOBBERS. 
 
 which he was soon awakened. It was in the beginning of 
 the third session of college, that one of the two aunts 
 was taken suddenly ill, and died in a few days, without 
 making any will. Elizabeth, the younger sister, who had 
 never been very kind to Rose, was now her sole protector; 
 and she, sweet lady, was rendered very unhappy a circum- 
 stance that gave great pain and uneasiness to your father, 
 and was the cause of the imprudent step he took. Scarcely 
 was the funeral over, when Mary her maid was discharged, 
 as an unnecessary burden; and, with my master's consent, 
 she and I were married. Aided by his bounty, I began 
 housekeeping, still waiting upon him; and, meanwhile, our 
 house was the scene of the meeting of the lovers. The 
 penury and harshness of her aunt rendered the young lady's 
 life miserable. Her secret was communicated to my wife, 
 who again told my master. This precipitated the consum- 
 mation of the long courtship. He prevailed upon his be- 
 loved to give her consent to a private marriage, that he 
 might have the right to shelter her from suffering longer 
 from her aunt's tyranny. They were privately married in 
 my house, at the head of Mary King's Close. 
 
 "Your father had not yet passed as an advocate, and had 
 no means of subsistence, save what he got from his father. 
 It was imperative that his marriage should be kept secret 
 from every one. Your mother resided with her aunt only 
 until your father had furnished a small house, near the 
 foot of our close, for his beloved wife an achievement he 
 could not get accomplished so quickly as he wished, with- 
 out raising curiosity as to the cause of his repeated demands 
 for money. Nearly four months passed on after the mar- 
 riage, and your mother still resided with her aunt, who, 
 since her sister's death, had become gay, and had many 
 visiters principally bachelors all paying her court, old a3 
 she was, for the sake of her wealth; and several of them 
 often paying more attention to the young wife than she
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 225 
 
 wished. Among the visitants was one, a great favourite 
 with the aunt, a retired officer, of an abandoned turn, but 
 connected with some of the oldest families in Scotland. 
 He was well received in most companies, and welcomed 
 for his wit and jovial manner. I recollect I was waiting 
 your father's return from a tavern party, principally young 
 lawyers, before I went to my own house for the night, 
 when he came home much sooner than I had expected, 
 greatly agitated, and in high anger. Alarmed at his un- 
 wonted manner, I, with all the humble freedom I could 
 ever use with him, implored him to tell me what had oc- 
 curred to disturb him so much. After he had become more 
 calm, he told me that Captain Ogilvie had been of the 
 party; that they had drunk pretty freely, and were giving 
 toasts; that the captain pledged Rose, your mother, and 
 spoke more lightly of her than he could endure to hear; 
 and that a quarrel had ensued, and blows had been struck. 
 He then desired me to see that his rapier was sharp and in 
 order, as he was to meet the captain by five the next morn- 
 ing in the Duke's Walk. My anger against the vile tra- 
 ducer was as great as that of my master. I wished I could 
 meet him in his place; for I had a strong feeling that evil 
 would come out of it; but this was impossible. 
 
 " Your father sat down to his writing-table, and began 
 two letters one for his young wife, the other to his father 
 and, while he was thus employed, I ran home, told Mary 
 not to expect me home that night, and put on a suit of 
 plain clothes. Before he was done, I had his sword and 
 my own in excellent order; for I was as good at fencing as 
 he was, in consequence of having practised with him all the 
 manly exercises he had learned. As soon as he was ready, 
 we began play at the swords; as the captain was an expert 
 swordsman, while my master had had no practice for seve- 
 ral years. Thus we passed the night until past four o'clock. 
 When we sallied forth, we called at Blackford's Wynd upon 
 VOL. x. H
 
 226 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 his second, whom we found waiting upon him, and then 
 proceeded by St Mary's Wynd Port and the South Back of 
 the Canongate to the ground, which we reached a few 
 minutes before the appointed time. The captain and his 
 friend arrived almost as soon as we did. Since then, I have 
 seen blood spilled as freely as water; but never did my 
 heart quail as at this time. In fighting with the blood 
 warm, there is a fierce pleasure; but to me nothing is, or 
 can be, more distressing than to stand an idle spectator, 
 and see your friend engaged, and hear the clash and rasp of 
 the weapon aimed at his heart, as if it were your own, and 
 your hands bound. Such were my feelings at this time. 
 The seconds wished to reconcile them, but neither would 
 hear of it. Each drew, and stood on Ms guard. A fearful 
 pause of a few seconds ensued, while they eyed each other 
 like hungry wolves. My eyes felt as if they would start 
 from their sockets; my breath was suspended; all was still 
 as death; a sudden clang rung on my ears; their swords 
 gleamed in the rays of the rising sun; and so rapid were 
 their movements, that my eye could not follow them. I 
 saw that the captain, from his fence, was a complete master 
 of his weapon, having practised abroad. My master had 
 been foiled in his favourite assault the one, indeed, on 
 which I had placed my reliance. A moment's pause ensued; 
 neither had drawn blood. Again they closed, and, after a 
 few unsuccessful attacks, paused again for breath. I saw 
 the blood upon my master's arm, from a slight cut. My 
 hand grasped my sword; but, by a violent effort, I re- 
 strained myself. They had been engaged nearly half-an- 
 hour; my master's hand was dyed in blood; but he was 
 young and alert; while his antagonist was rather corpulent, 
 and his constitution shaken by dissipation. His play be- 
 came now more feeble and cautious, and my confidence 
 began to revive. He was yet without a scratch; and, col- 
 lecting all his energies, he made a desperate lunge, which
 
 THK IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 227 
 
 your father only parried so far as to malce it pass between 
 his side and the sword-arm, piercing his vest; and the cap- 
 tain lay at his feet transfixed. My heart leaped for joy as 
 I ran to your father's aid. I bound up his arm, -while the 
 two seconds attended to the captain. I found ray master 
 but slightly hurt. He despatched me for aid to his antago- 
 nist, with which I returned; and, as the captain's wound 
 appeared to be mortal, we left them, and proceeded over 
 the hill. We scarcely exchanged words. Passing up the 
 valley, we stood upon the crest of the height that com- 
 manded a view of Craigmillar Castle, and the distant hills, 
 with the level country between. Here we paused; and 
 your father, clasping his hands in agony, gazed around for 
 a few minutes in silence. My own heart was too full to 
 speak, and I stood looking upon his mental suffering, which 
 I knew no mode of soothing, and reverenced too much to 
 interrupt. At length he said, as if unconscious of my pre- 
 sence, ' Farewell, sweet scenes of my happiness ! my cruel 
 destiny drives me from you, and her who is dearer to me 
 than life. But that thought is distraction. Eose ! my be- 
 loved Eose! in what a state am I forced to leave you! 
 Alas ! I dare not even bid you farewell. My hands are red 
 with blood, and the avengers will soon be on my track; but 
 in defence of your honour it was shed, and Heaven will jus- 
 tify the act. Who now who will protect you when I am 
 an outlaw ? ' 
 
 " He dashed his hands upon his forehead, and groaned. 
 I could endure in silence no longer, and at length soothed 
 him into something like composure. It was agreed that he 
 should go to his father, inform him of his duel, and act by 
 his counsel; while I should return to my own house, watch 
 the progress of the captain's wound, and, happen what 
 would, meet him at Eoslin Chapel at ten o'clock in the 
 evening, to consult what was farther to be done. We parted 
 at St Leonard's Hill.
 
 228 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "In the forenoon nothing was talked of in the city but 
 Captain Ogilvie's duel; and it had become a party question. 
 The Whigs had one version of the cause of quarrel, the 
 Tories another.. I gave no ear to either; but was rejoiced 
 to learn that the captain was not dead, although his life 
 was despaired of. 
 
 "It was now past six o'clock the quarter had chimed 
 upon the clock of St Giles. I had my hand on the latch to 
 go once more to the captain's, to know how he continued 
 since my last inquiry, when the rasp was gently moved. I 
 opened the door, and your mother staggered into my arms, 
 pale as death, and swooned away. With difficulty Mary 
 and I restored her to consciousness. I told her of your 
 father's safety; and she replied that she was now, save for 
 her husband, a destitute outcast; that her aunt, who only 
 waited a pretext, had turned her out upon the world; and 
 that the cause of her expulsion was her conduct in being 
 the mean of her aunt's favourite, Captain Ogilvie's death. 
 I told her that the captain was not yet dead, and would, I 
 hoped, survive; and, leaving her in charge of Mary, I hur- 
 ried to ascertain what ground there was for any hope. I 
 found that the captain was still alive, but that his death 
 was hourly expected. 
 
 " With a sorrowful heart I hurried out by Bristo Port, 
 after getting the word for the night from the keeper, that 
 I might be admitted, on my return, into the city. I was 
 at the chapel some time before ten o'clock, and found my 
 master waiting for me. When I told him that the captain 
 was still in life, he took my hand ' Square,' he said, ' this 
 has been a sad and dreary day to me. It is a fearful thing 
 to have blood upon our hands, even in a just cause. I pray 
 with my whole soul he may recover, both for his own sake 
 and mine.' 
 
 " I then told him what had befallen your mother. 
 
 " ' I am happy it is so,' he said. ' I shall leave her undc?
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 229 
 
 the keeping of Mary and you with more confidence than I 
 could in her aunt's. My mind is relieved of a burden; my 
 greatest difficulty was how to dispose of my beloved until 
 my return; for, by the command of my father, I set off for 
 France to-morrow to St Germains, where I will remain 
 until this untoward affair blows over. If all go as we anti- 
 cipate, you will, perhaps, see me here sooner than you ex- 
 pectay, with a gallant band of patriots, to redress Scot- 
 land's wrongs, and restore our rightful prince. My father 
 is not displeased at my conduct would that he knew the 
 right I had to take my Rose's part ! But the time will 
 come. As I know not how soon the officers of justice may 
 be in quest of me, I must depart to-morrow morning for 
 England, on my way to France. I must therefore see Rose, 
 to bid her good-by for a short season. I shall be waiting 
 for her near St Anthony's Chapel, to weep our parting, 
 where we have so often smiled at our meetings. William, 
 William ! these thoughts unman me.' 
 
 '"My dear master,' said I, 'am I to accompany you?' 
 
 "'No, William,' replied he 'no; I leave my beloved 
 wife to your care until my return, when I will requite you 
 as she shall report of you.' 
 
 " It was early in the morning before I reached Edinburgh. 
 I found your mother and Mary still out of bed, awaiting my 
 return. The night was spent in tears by the females, and 
 a melancholy presentiment was on my own heart. Before 
 we set out to meet the fugitive, I caused them to disguise 
 themselves your mother having my wife's maud, and she 
 a dress she had never before worn. They proceeded down 
 the street by themselves, while I went to inquire how the 
 captain had spent the night. I found he was still in life, 
 but no hopes were entertained of his recovery. 
 
 "The shades of evening were beginning to fall before this 
 last and sorrowful parting terminated. They never met 
 again. Your mother, who was in the family way, although
 
 230 TALES OF THE BOKDEES. 
 
 we knew not the fact for weeks afterwards, began to droop 
 and pine a sadness of heart seemed to consume her; in 
 vain we strove to cheer her gloom; and her aunt made no 
 inquiries after her. Once a- week I visited the banks of the 
 Esk to inquire after my master; and occasionally got ac- 
 counts of his welfare; but they were few and far between 
 oaly, indeed, when the letters could be forwarded by some 
 one coming to Scotland. No letter had as yet come to me 
 for his wife. How often have I left her, with a faint smile 
 of hope dispelling the habitual sadness of her lovely counte- 
 nance, and returned with an aching heart to witness her in- 
 creased melancholy. Your father had left her all the gold 
 he could, even more than he could spare; yet we would 
 have given it all for a single letter from his hand; but none 
 came. Meanwhile Captain Ogilvie, who continued long in 
 a precarious state, ultimately recovered. 
 
 " At length you were born; but your unfortunate mother 
 did not survive many days; and scarcely was the sod green 
 on her grave, when my master caino back to Scotland. His 
 grief, his agony, I shall not attempt to describe. In a few- 
 weeks after he returned to France, for his native country 
 was hateful to him; and I would have accompanied him, 
 but that Mary was in delicate health, and I could not leave 
 her. As his father was displeased at him for relinquishing 
 his study of the law, he gave him only a small sum to main 
 tain him in France. You passed, meanwhile, as my own 
 child, and went under niy name. 
 
 " At length the long-expected deliverer came. I concealed 
 the certificate of your father's marriage, and some other 
 papers, in the wainscot of our room, and would have joined 
 my master in the north; but, as the party were in rapid ad- 
 vance to Edinburgh, I thought I could be of more service 
 to the cause in Edinburgh. It was I who contrived the 
 way, and caused the easy entry of the Prince into the city, 
 by the Netherbow Port. The gentleman you saw once or
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARKIAGE. 231 
 
 twice in conversation with Mary, whom you took for your 
 mother, was your father; but it was not thought prudent 
 to undeceive you. We had the greatest confidence in the 
 success of our righteous cause. Alas ! we were prosperous 
 for a time, only to feel more bitterly our reverse. We ad- 
 vanced into England, elate with the victory of Tranent, 
 where we scattered the red-coats like frightened deer. I 
 had no opportunity of visiting Edinburgh again, until it 
 would have been death to me to dare the act. Your father 
 was wounded at the Battle of Falkirk, and required my ut- 
 most care. After the Prince retired from the siege of Stir- 
 ling, and Cumberland's arrival in the north, our affairs be- 
 gan to wear a different aspect. Carlisle had been recap- 
 tured, and our success seemed farther from us than at the 
 commencement. My master's wound was, by good manage- 
 ment, so much better that he could travel by easy stages. 
 The volunteers and adherents of the Hanoverians were be- 
 ginning to show more bravery, by apprehending all whom 
 they knew belonged to the Prince; so that, without taking 
 leave, we left our landlord in the night; and, crossing at 
 Kincardine, got into Fife, and travelled down the shores of 
 the Forth until we reached Dysart, where your father was 
 confined to bed, by fever, for some days. Here we received 
 the heart-breaking intelligence of Culloden Field, and the 
 massacre of the friends of royalty. Scotland was no longer 
 a country for us. My master had acted too open and con- 
 spicuous a part to hope for pardon. I would, perhaps, on 
 Mary's account and yours, have ventured my life in a re- 
 turn to Edinburgh; but I could not leave your father in his 
 present situation. As yet no one suspected we had be- 
 longed to the Highland army; for I had so adroitly con- 
 cealed my master's wound, that he was thought to be only 
 sick of a fever. Fortunately, there was a vessel about to 
 sail for Rotterdam. We embarked for Holland without in- 
 terruption, and arrived safe. During your father's con-
 
 232 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 valesccnce we were reduced to great straits; for our supply 
 of cash was, when we left Scotland, much reduced, and 
 here it entirely failed. My master had written to his bro- 
 ther for assistance; but he had found it for his advantage to 
 change sides; and, so far from sending a remittance, he 
 never answered one of his letters. Had it not been for the 
 disinterested aid of a Scottish merchant, who was established 
 in the place of our retreat, and who had been a college 
 friend of your father, we must have been reduced to ab- 
 solute want. Through his influence, he obtained for him a 
 commission in the Scottish Brigade, then in the service of the 
 States; and thus relieved him from the humiliation of de- 
 pendence; but this was not accomplished until nearly the 
 end of the second year after I had left my peaceful home. 
 During all this time we were in the greatest anxiety ho 
 about his son, I about my dear v/ifc. Yet we had no means 
 of ascertaining your fates; and the consciousness of the po- 
 verty you must be plunged in embittered all our thoughts. 
 As soon as my master joined the division of the brigade, 
 which was quartered in Bergen-op-Zoom, he borrowed a 
 sum of money for my use. At all hazards I had resolved 
 to return to Edinburgh, use all the precaution I could to 
 avoid being recognised, and bring over with me to Holland 
 you and my dear Mary. 
 
 "All being prepared, I bade adieu to your father, and 
 embarked, in the dress of a Dutch skipper, on board of a 
 vessel bound for Dysart, principally loaded with old iron, 
 for the nailers of Pathhead. She was a Fife vessel; and 
 the captain knew me only as William Speare, a Dutchman. 
 Upon our arrival, I crossed, with the first Kinghom boat, 
 for Leith, and hurried up to Edinburgh. Our passage 
 across the Frith had been very tedious; and the shades of 
 evening were just coming on when I reached the Abbey 
 Hill. With a heart equally divided between hope and fear, 
 I walked up the Canongate, through the Netherbow Port,
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 233 
 
 and up the High Street. I saw many that I had known in 
 happier days, and my heart yearned to address them; but, 
 alas ! I was a proscribed outlaw, shut out from the society 
 I loved. When I reached Mary King's Close, my heart 
 beat so ardently, that I was forced to pause for breath as I 
 climbed the stair to my old door. I took the rasp in my 
 hand, and gave my wonted tirl. A female opened the door, 
 about the same height as her I loved. It was very dusky. 
 That it was my wife I had no doubt. I threw my arms 
 around her, crying, ' Dear Mary ! ' The female pushed me 
 from her, and screamed out for help. I thought I would 
 have sunk to the ground, and leaned against the door for 
 support. An elderly female came in haste with a light I 
 attempted to speak, but could only sob, and felt sick almost 
 to death. The women looked upon me in amazement, for 
 the tears were silently stealing down my face. After whis- 
 pering a few words, I was kindly invited into the house 
 which I had expected to have been my own. It was tidily 
 furnished; but everything in it was strange to me, and wore 
 a look of desolation and loneliness. Neither my wife nor 
 you were there. Not to betray myself, I told them that I 
 had not been in Edinburgh for a long time; but that, when 
 I left it last, a very dear friend had resided there, whom I 
 had hoped to find where I left her, and that my mistake 
 must plead my excuse for any apparent rudeness. Their 
 answers to my inquiries crushed all my hopes. Mary was 
 in her silent grave, and you had disappeared. Nothing now 
 remained to me in Scotland that I cared for; and, after in 
 vain offering a reward to any one who could give any in- 
 formation concerning you, and shedding a few tears over 
 the grave of my wife, I returned to Holland with my sor- 
 rowful intelligence. Your father, quite sunk with your un- 
 certain fate, fell into a lowness of spirits that preyed upon 
 his health, and continually reflected upon himself as the 
 cause of your mother's early death, and your destitution.
 
 234 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "As the monotony and duliiess of garrison duty in a 
 strongly-fortified town served to increase his melancholy, 
 which threatened to merge into consumption, he, by the 
 advice of his physician that change of scene, and a warm 
 climate, might remove all the bad symptoms he exhibited 
 exchanged into a regiment stationed in the Island of Cey- 
 lon, into which I also enlisted, that I might accompany 
 him. There was, alas ! no other individual on earth for 
 whom I cared. Far from recovering on the voyage, its 
 tedious dulness sunk him more and more into his habitual 
 lowness of spirits; and, on our arrival on the island, he 
 grew worse, and did not survive many months. I buried 
 him at Trincomalee. Alas ! how true is the saying, that 
 'all men know where they were born, but none where they 
 shall lay their bones.' " 
 
 So intense had been the interest I felt in his narrative, 
 that I scarcely moved, lest I should lose a word, or inter- 
 rupt him. He paused at this event, and wiped a tear from 
 his eyes. William and Mary I had until this hour looked 
 upon as my real parents. For those I now heard of, I had 
 new feelings to acquire. I noticed that he did not tell me 
 the surname of my parents, and I pressed not the ques- 
 tion. All that I asked of him was to continue his history, 
 and inform me what had induced him once more to return 
 to Scotland. 
 
 "Can a Scotsman ask that question of a Scotsman?" 
 said he. " In whatever part of the globe he may be, the 
 hope to lay his bones with his fathers is the Polar Star 
 that cheers his wanderings, be they prosperous or adverse. 
 Eemove this hope, and his energies from that moment sink, 
 for he has lost all of life worth caring for. I have both 
 known and felt it. But to proceed: 
 
 "After your father's death, I felt the most solitary of 
 men for many months. Still I continued to do my duty as a 
 private soldier, without taking any interest in surrounding
 
 THE IMPBUDENT MARBUGE. 235 
 
 events. About two years after my arrival, a revolt broke 
 out in the colony: the Singaleese were aided by the Can- 
 dians from the mountains; and the handful of Europeans 
 could scarce make head against the multitudes of the 
 natives, who had courage and ferocity more than sufficient 
 to have 'exterminated us every man; but, fortunately for 
 us, they had no discipline or other mode of warfare, but to 
 rush on their enemy and overpower them. This they 
 found to be a vain attempt; yet they never changed their 
 mode until compelled to sue for peace, by the immense 
 slaughter made of them in this war of carnage and massacre. 
 I had been several times the decided cause of victory to 
 the Dutch, in preventing small detachments from being 
 cut off, and directing the movements of the main body; for 
 which services I was promoted to a lieutenantcy. I never 
 rose higher, nor do I believe I would have attained this 
 rank, had it not been to enable me to take command of 
 small parties, for which I was qualified from my being ever 
 on the outskirts of the army, or in the borders of the jungle. 
 Great numbers of my men died through fatigue and fever. 
 I, myself for several years, remained robust; but my turn 
 came at length. I fevered and relapsed; several tunes my 
 life was despaired of for whole weeks; and many wounds 
 I had received from the Candian spears and arrows broke 
 out afresh, and baffled the power of medicine. My consti- 
 tution triumphed over my malady; but I was unfit for 
 service. I have one wound here on my side that is hurry- 
 ing me to my grave; which, I hope, will be in Pennycuick 
 churchyard. But, now that I have the happiness to find 
 my long-lost charge, there is one more duty for me to per- 
 form when we reach Edinburgh, whither you must return 
 with me, to consign me to the dust. That duty I never did 
 expect to be called to perform it is to re-possess myself of 
 the certificates of your father's marriage and your baptism, 
 which are, as I told you, concealed behind the wainscot in
 
 236 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 the house in Mary King's Close. I trust, for your sake, 
 they are still safe, and may be the means of placing you in 
 your proper rank in society." 
 
 " Dear father," I replied "for I must still call you so-~ 
 if it is to be of any service to me alone, it is of no avail to 
 proceed further on that errand, for fortune baffles all my 
 undertakings, and I tell you you will not succeed; still I 
 have no objection to return with you to Scotland, although 
 my present object in London was to go to sea in a vessel 
 bound for the Indian seas the only place of all I ever 
 visited where fortune smiled upon me, and I scorned her 
 favours." 
 
 After dinner I gave the lieutenant an outline of my ad- 
 ventures since he had left Edinburgh, at which he was much 
 moved. When I told him of the obligation I lay under to 
 the worthy lawyer 
 
 "Ah, Johnnie!" said he, "we have already half-gained 
 the victory. Mr Davidson was at college and intimate 
 with your father, and he knows me well as your father's 
 servant. Scotland does not contain a better man for our 
 purpose. I shall fee him liberally, and fortune may yet 
 smile upon us." It was now late in the evening, and the 
 lieutenant left me for the night. 
 
 Scarce was he gone, when a new passion took entire pos- 
 session of me that of pride and ambition. I felt myself 
 quite changed, and strange visions of imaginary importance 
 floated before me. My present finances were now deemed 
 low enough eleven guineas which at one period I would 
 have considered an immense sum. So sanguine had a few 
 hours made me, that I looked upon it only as so many pence. 
 From this period I date a complete revolution in my train 
 of thoughts. Formerly I had cared but for the passing 
 hour, nor heeded for to-morrow. My early education had, 
 until now, clung to me in all my vicissitudes, being ever the 
 outcast orphan boy, who, his belly full, his back warm, had
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 237 
 
 nothing further to obtain. My contentment was now gone. 
 But to proceed: 
 
 For a few days I was forced to keep at home, until the 
 marks of my Tower Hill affray had disappeared; during 
 which, urged by my new passion (pride), I got myself equipped 
 in the extreme of fashion. I now smile at my folly, when 
 I look back to these few weeks in which I was swayed by 
 it. But no young lady, getting her first ball-dress, was 
 ever more fidgety or hard to please than John Square. The 
 lieutenant was pleased to see me ape the gentleman; for he 
 really looked upon me as such, and paid me every defe- 
 rence, as the son of his master. The money he had saved 
 while in Ceylon he counted as mutual; nor would he allow 
 me to expend one farthing of my own. We both were now 
 anxious to proceed to Edinburgh, and embarked in the first 
 trader bound for Leith. This voyage was the most pleasant 
 I had ever made; I was in fairyland, and the lieutenant 
 not far behind me. 
 
 When we were landed, with the earliest convenience we 
 proceeded to Edinburgh, with far different feelings from 
 any I had before experienced. Having arrived in the even- 
 ing, it was next morning, after an early breakfast, that we 
 proceeded from our inn in the Canongate towards the Cross, 
 to reconnoitre the old domicile of William Square, the house 
 in which I had first drawn breath. You may judge our hor- 
 ror, surprise, and grief I cannot describe it that loved 
 edifice had disappeared from the earth; it no longer existed. 
 Where it had once stood, new walls were shooting up to- 
 wards the firmament. It and many others had been swept 
 away, to make room for the site of the present Royal Ex- 
 change. A feeling of desolation, bordering on despair, took 
 possession of my heart. The lieutenant, uttering a groan, 
 wrung his hands, and looked upon me with a gaze that 
 pierced me to the soul. I felt his frame leaning upon me 
 with the weight of death. He would have sunk to the
 
 238 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 ground, had I not supported him. With difficulty I conveyed 
 him into Corbet's tavern, under the Piazzas, where, after a 
 time, he recovered, only to give vent to a burst of anguish. 
 "Ill-fated parent and ill-fated child!" he cried, "it was 
 not that my heart yearned not to tell you the family from 
 whence you sprung, but a presentiment hung heavy upon 
 my mind that there was evil still in store for you. Alas, 
 my poor John ! are you really doomed to dree the weird as- 
 signed your forebears. Your father's father was Mr William 
 
 of . Can it be possible that these canting Whiga- 
 
 mores have the spirit of prophecy? This almost forces mo 
 to think they had 
 
 ' For saints' blood and saints harried, 
 The third generation will ne'er inherit.' 
 
 It is too true, too true !" 
 
 These last sentences he repeated to himself several times 
 as if unconsciously, and again sunk back upon his chair 
 in a state of stupor; nor could I rouse him by all the gentle 
 methods I could use. At length I called a sedan-chair, 
 and had him conveyed to the inn, and put to bed. He 
 seemed quite unconscious and passive, until, disturbed by 
 our moving him into bed, when, as if mechanically, he 
 again said 
 
 " ' For saints' blood and saints harried, 
 The third generation will ne'er inherit.' 
 
 My poor boy ! my poor boy ! " 
 
 At this time a physician arrived, and, having admini- 
 stered the remedies he thought most efficacious in. my foster- 
 parent's case, was about to retire, when I inquired if he 
 thought there was any immediate danger. He candidly 
 said he thought there was; for the patient's constitution 
 was much reduced, and he had received some violent shock, 
 which might dash out the remaining drops from the nearly 
 exhausted glass. He advised that he should not be left
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 239 
 
 alone for any time; and, above all, that lie must be kept 
 quiet, until he called again in the afternoon. 
 
 As soon as I had recovered myself a little from the agita- 
 tion this untoward event had produced, I wrote a note to 
 Mr Davidson, requesting he would be so kind as call upon 
 me as soon as convenient, stating that I had urgent business 
 to consult him upon, and pleading, as my excuse for putting 
 him to the trouble, the sudden illness of a friend. When 
 the cadie was sent off with my card, I began to ruminate 
 upon my prospects, which again had been so suddenly over- 
 cast. He on whom my sole dependence was placed lay in the 
 room where I sat, in a state of prostration bordering almost 
 upon unconsciousness. The visions of pride and consequence 
 in which I had indulged, from the time I first heard of my 
 gentle forefathers, began to fade from before me; a short 
 time of sad and melancholy reasoning on probabilities had 
 swept them away as completely as the innovating hands of 
 the good citizens had removed the old tenement in which 
 the testimonials of their reality had been concealed. In 
 the midst of these reflections, the lawyer arrived. His as- 
 tonishment at seeing me was equalled by my joy at meeting 
 with one in whose judgment and shrewdness I had the ut- 
 most confidence. The sight of him renewed my hopes; and 
 the fond clinging to self-importance, so natural, yet so fool- 
 ish, when it is derived from no merit or endeavour of the 
 individual, again returned upon me. 
 
 After mutual congratulations, we at once proceeded to 
 business. After stating my arrival in London, and strange 
 meeting with the lieutenant, I narrated the melancholy 
 fate of my parents. He heard me to the end with all the 
 imperturbability of a man of business; yet his countenance 
 betrayed the interest he took in my recital. When I con- 
 cluded, he rose to his feet; and, placing his hands behind 
 his back, moved quickly two or three times across the 
 room, then stopped at the side of the bed where the lieu-
 
 240 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 tenant lay; and, after gazing for a short time upon hia 
 altered countenance, turned to me, and gave his head an 
 ominous shake. 
 
 "Mr Square," said he, "this is a strange business. I 
 myself have not a doubt of the truth of all the circum- 
 stances, some of which I have a distinct recollection of 
 more especially the quarrel and duel; but how to obtain 
 the necessary evidence I at present cannot divine. The 
 loss of the papers is a very material point; and the sudden 
 illness of your foster-parent is very unfortunate. But there 
 is also another difficulty, even were we so fortunate, as I 
 hope we will be, as to restore him to health and conscious- 
 ness: his testimony could not be taken in any court of 
 justice; he is an outlaw, tainted by actual rebellion, and 
 liable to be apprehended and executed as a traitor. His 
 mildest punishment, if not pardoned after sentence, would 
 be banishment; and, what is not the least worthy of 
 serious consideration, the object to be attained, unless 
 your friend is very rich, may not be worth the expense 
 and trouble. That foolish rhyme has been fulfilled, in the 
 meantime, so far. Your great-grandfather was a zealous 
 partisan of the Lauderdale administration in Scotland; 
 and, I believe, rather rigorous with the adherents of the 
 Covenant. At the Revolution, he fell into disgrace with 
 the powers that assumed the reins of government, and so 
 turned his hopes upon the restoration of the exiled family, 
 and impoverished himself in aiding the intrigues to restore 
 them. Your grandfather had been bred in, and adhered to, 
 the same politics, now a losing game. He still farther re- 
 duced the rent-roll by sales and bonds; and, at his death, 
 your two uncles, who remained at home, changed their 
 party. The older died young, without having married; 
 and the younger succeeded to what remained of the estate 
 of his ancestors a mere wreck, soon spent in dissipation. 
 Not one furr of land that once owned your ancestors as
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 241 
 
 lord now owns their sway. With the sum produced by the 
 last sale, your uncle bade adieu to Scotland; and you 
 are the last of the race. I would advise no farther 
 proceedings than to endeavour, if possible, to recover 
 the documents relating to your birth and legitimacy, 
 if they have not been destroyed in pulling down the old 
 walls." 
 
 Why should I dwell on my disappointment. Mr David- 
 son used every effort, by inquiries and offers of reward; but 
 the papers never were recovered, although we got from one 
 of the workmen the brass Dutch box in which they had 
 been placed. He had purchased it from one of the labour- 
 ers who picked it up in the ruins, and had destroyed the 
 papers as of no importance. I had now the knowledge of 
 the family from whom I was descended, but no proof to 
 establish my claim, even though my right to property to 
 any amount would have been the consequence. 
 
 As for my foster-parent, he gradually recovered from the 
 stupor that had overwhelmed him, but never regained his 
 wonted energies. He was possessed of a few hundred pounds, 
 besides his half-pay from the Dutch Government, which was 
 regularly paid. He never could endure me for any length 
 of time out of his sight; and I remained with him until his 
 death, a few years afterwards. I knew that I was wasting 
 my time; yet I could not desert the old man, whose whole 
 happiness was concentrated in me; and, shall I confess, I 
 felt a strange happiness in his society for he alone of all 
 mankind treated the beggar-boy of former years as an in- 
 dividual of rank; and our conversation was generally about 
 the traditions of my ancestors. When the weather would 
 permit, it was our wont to leave o\ir house at Clock Mill, 
 to wander over the scenes he loved the spots in and around 
 the bosom of Arthur Seat, where he had first won the affec- 
 tions of his departed Mary and point out the favourite 
 haunts which my father and mother used to sit in or walk 
 
 H2
 
 242 TALES OF THE BOEDEES. 
 
 On these we would gaze, until our imagination seemed 
 vested with the power of calling the personages before us. 
 Thus passed on the time until the lieutenant's death, which 
 happened suddenly. 
 
 I was thus once more alone in the world, without a tie to 
 bind me to it, save the natural love of life inherent in man. 
 In Edinburgh I had formed no acquaintance; a continual 
 soreness haunted me as to the dignity of birth, yet I never 
 assumed even the name of my parent. I only heard it pro- 
 nounced by my foster-father, who urged me to adopt my 
 family honours. The conversation of the lieutenant had 
 given my mind a military bias. I was weary of Edinburgh, 
 which recalled to my mind too many sad reflections; and I 
 mentioned to Mr Davidson the resolution I had formed. 
 After winding up the affairs of the lieutenant, I found that 
 I was possessed of one hundred and seventy pounds. Mr 
 Davidson, who still insisted that the money I had left as a 
 gift in his hands was at my disposal, generously offered to 
 advance the amount required to purchase me an ensigncy; 
 but this I would on no account allow. My pride revolted 
 at a pecuniary obligation, as a derogation from my family 
 dignity, which still hung heavy upon me. By his advice, 
 and through his assistance, I sunk in the hands of the ma- 
 gistrates one hundred and fifty pounds, as the most profit- 
 able way I could invest it the interest to accumulate until 
 my return in person to claim it. It was about the year 1775, 
 when the troubles in America had commenced. Accounts 
 had just arrived that blood had been shed at Lexington and 
 Concord; and the bootless victory at Boston was announced, 
 but not confirmed. It was the month of August, and the 
 utmost excitement reigned among the people in the city: 
 every means, both legal and scarcely legal, being employed 
 to raise troops. The comprehending act was passed, by 
 which the justices of the peace were empowered to impress 
 and send to the army all idle or immoral characters: an en-
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 243 
 
 gine of great tyranny and oppression in their hands; for 
 every person who was in the least obnoxious to them was 
 hurried to the army, whatever his character might be. 
 Without informing my friend Mr Davidson, I bade him 
 farewell, and proceeded to Glasgow, where I entered as a 
 private into the Fraser Highlanders, resolved to carve out 
 my own fortune with my sword. This I did through my 
 foolish pride, so little had I learned by my former experi- 
 ence. During my short stay with the party, before I joined 
 the regiment, my mind became disgusted by the modes I 
 saw practised to augment the army, by trepanning and 
 actual violence. The landed gentlemen and magistrates 
 appeared to have lost, in their zeal, every sense of justice. 
 The most disgusting modes were resorted to: such as put- 
 ting a shilling into a drinking jug, and causing the king's 
 health to be pledged; while the soldier, in plain clothes, 
 sitting in company as a tradesman, or a person from the 
 country, was ready to seize the person whom he had pitched 
 upon, the moment he drank the royal toast. If he resisted, 
 nothing could save him from prison; enlist, and attest he 
 must. So prevalent, indeed, was this mode, that the pub- 
 licans were under the necessity of getting pewter jugs with 
 glass bottoms to drink from, or their houses would have 
 been deserted. This gave security to the customer that 
 there was not a shilling in the bottom; and allowed him to 
 watch through the glass the motions of the persons with 
 whom he drank. The only redress the kidnapped indi- 
 vidual got was, that he might choose the regiment he would 
 j.oin; and he in general fixed upon some other one than the 
 one to which his betrayer belonged. One instance disgusted 
 me beyond endurance. It happened to a good-looking young 
 lad, belonging to Hamilton. An intimate acquaintance of 
 his had been enlisted, whether voluntarily or not I do not 
 recollect, but he was still without any marks of his new 
 profession. Several of the old soldiers were also with him,
 
 244 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 prowling about for recruits, when he recognised his former 
 friend in the Briggate, accompanied by his intended bride 
 and their mothers, who had come to Glasgow with the young 
 people to purchase their plenishing. Eejoiced to meet an 
 old acquaintance in the city, the party, being fatigued with 
 their walk and the heat of the weather, retired to a neigh- 
 bouring public-house to rest and refresh themselves. The 
 companions of the betrayer, to avoid suspicion, had passed 
 on, as if they were not of his party, but entered the house 
 a short time after. As those from the country had business 
 to transact, they refused to tarry, and the new-made soldier 
 insisted to pay for the entertfannient, which, after a good- 
 natured dispute, he was allowed to do. By design, or other- 
 wise, he sat at the far cud of the table, and when the land- 
 lady was called, he said, handbag forward a shilling 
 
 " Here, George, is a shilling; be BO good as hand it to the 
 landlady." 
 
 "The reckoning is one and sixpence," said she. 
 
 " Oh, I have plenty of the king's coin. Here is another 
 for you, George." 
 
 To the alarm and grief of the bridal party, when they 
 were at the door to proceed on the business they had come 
 to town upon, the soldiers in waiting seized the young man, 
 and declared him one of the king's men. The betrayer 
 shrunk back, not yet hardened to the trade; but his asso- 
 ciates compelled the victim to go with them to the jail. 
 Fortunately for them and the young man, they had respect- 
 able friends in the city, who waited upon some of the magi- 
 strates. An investigation took place. The soldiers scrupled 
 not to maintain that he was enlisted, and were willing to 
 swear that he had taken the second shilling in the king's 
 name the usual words of voluntary enlistment. They 
 even produced the landlady, who, either leaning towards 
 the soldiers (her good customers), or not paying much at- 
 tention at the time, declared that she heard, when tne se-
 
 THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE. 245 
 
 "cond shilling was given, distinctly the words "king and 
 coin." So powerful was the feeling at this time, that he 
 was declared duly enlisted, and only escaped by paying to 
 the party a round sum of smart-money. 
 
 After passing the winter at drill, I was embarked with a 
 numerous body, to reinforce the army besieged in Quebec, 
 where we arrived in the month of May. I was now on the 
 field where I was to reap the fruits of my ambition; but I 
 found it unpromising, and strewed with thorns. Still I 
 had an object to attain, however distant it might be, and 
 my oppression left me. I was most assiduous in my duties, 
 and was soon made a corporal. My heart leaped for joy. 
 This was the first step to my ambition; my hopes began to 
 brighten, and I submitted to our privations without a 
 murmur. At the storming of St John's, I was made a ser- 
 jeant; and here I stuck In vain was all my daring and 
 good conduct. At the descent upon Long Island, I was as 
 conspicuous as I dared to be by the rules of strict discipline, 
 and, in consequence, often had the charge of small picquets 
 upon dangerous service, and was twice slightly wounded. 
 Once I led the company, and took several prisoners, after 
 both the captain and ensign were carried to the rear dan- 
 gerously wounded. The ensign died in a few days of his 
 wound; and it was generally believed by the men of the 
 regiment that I would have been promoted to his rank. 
 At length, in the month of August, 1781, 1 was made pay- 
 master-serjeant; which rank I did not long retain; for the 
 army was not long after completely surrounded by the 
 Americans, besieged in Yorktown and at Gloucester, and, 
 ifter suffering the extreme of hardships for twelve days, 
 from sickness, famine, and the fire of the enemy, Lord 
 Cornwallis, hopeless of being relieved, surrendered himself 
 and army prisoners of war. This put an extinguisher upon 
 all my hopes. I was now a prisoner, sick, and looked upon 
 for depth, and must have perished had it not bs'n for one
 
 246 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 of the captains of the American army, to whom the sick 
 prisoners were delivered over. He proved to have been 
 one of the palantincs an Aberdeen lad who had been my 
 companion in early misfortune, now an extensive proprietor 
 in New England. To him I was indebted for much kind- 
 ness during my imprisonment until the peace. When I re- 
 turned to Britain, I was discharged with a pension of one 
 shilling per day, being what is called the king's letter, 
 which, with the accumulation of my annuity, enables me 
 to finish my chequered career in competence, and wander 
 as I list amidst these scenes of wo and pleasure, lovely by 
 nature, and endeared by former recollections.
 
 XHE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 247 
 
 THE BEWILDEEED STUDENT* 
 
 FIFTY years ago, the roads in many parts of Scotland were 
 so bad that they could only be travelled on with safety in 
 broad daylight. The dangers which the tourist had to en- 
 counter did not arise from the lawless dispositions of the 
 people; for Scotland was then a highly moral and highly 
 hospitable country. But, ere the genius of road-making 
 had visited it, the benighted wanderer had more reason to 
 apprehend destruction from the delusive light of the "moss- 
 traversing spunkie," than from the sudden flash of the rob- 
 ber's pistol. Vast undrained marshes were common in every 
 part of the country. From these marshes many a goodly 
 peat-stack had been delved, and the holes were soon filled 
 up with stagnant water covered with zoophytes and other 
 aquatic plants, and surrounded by tall rushes, which con- 
 cealed from the eye those dangerous pits, where a whole re- 
 giment of soldiers might have found an inglorious grave. 
 
 The roads, in many places, passed so close to these un- 
 wholesome bogs, that a false step in the dark was often 
 equal to stepping out of this world. Nor was this the only 
 risk that a traveller had to calculate upon, when settling 
 the propriety of making his will before he undertook a jour- 
 ney; for the highways properly so called, at that period 
 frequently ascended in the most abrupt manner from the 
 swampy valley to the rocky hillside, where they winded 
 along the edges of precipices, which afforded admirable 
 facilities for despairing lovers to take the loup without 
 being suspected of suicide. 
 
 * The author of this tale, John Bethune, was one of the two bro- 
 thers, self-educated labourers, referred to in the Editor's not* ap- 
 pended to " The Young Laird." ED.
 
 948 TALES OF THE BONDERS. 
 
 Besides the actual danger which attended travelling in 
 those days, there were many inconveniences, which, though 
 less appalling, were even more perplexing to a forward spirit, 
 than the risk of tumbling from a rock-head, or plunging 
 into a peat-bog. The roads in many places branched out 
 in different directions upon lonely muirs, where no informa- 
 tion could be obtained concerning the places to which they 
 led; and the consequence was, that many a weary wight, 
 after cogitating half-an-hour upon the propriety of turning 
 to the right hand or the left, dashed into one of the doubt- 
 ful paths, and proceeded for another hour at his utmost 
 speed, to no better purpose than simply to receive informa- 
 tion that he had walked four miles out of his way. Inns, 
 too, were almost unknown, except in the towns and upon 
 the most frequented roads; and even there the accommoda- 
 tion was so meagre, that equestrians had often the greatest 
 difficulty in finding lodgings for themselves and horses. 
 Steam- waggons and stage-coaches, as yet, lay packed up in 
 the heads of their inventors; and the traveller, though other- 
 wise in comfortable circumstances, had no other means of 
 conveyance but his own two legs, and an oaken or hazel 
 staff, with which he urged them onward when ascending, and 
 prevented them running away with him when descending 
 the hill-side. Thus equipped, he could find lodgings in the 
 first cottage which he came to; and, if his mind was not 
 too refined for the conversation of simple, social, warm- 
 hearted men, nor his taste too delicate for the "halesome 
 parritch, chief o' Scotia's food," he could generally pass the 
 night with tolerable comfort, and very little expense. In 
 this way, many of the most eminent men of the time be- 
 came acquainted with the humble homes and virtuous 
 habits of the peasantry of their native land; and the infor- 
 mation which they thus acquired formed a link of connec- 
 tion between the different classes of society, which the pre- 
 judices of fashion could never afterwards wholly destroy.
 
 THE BEV7ILDEEED STUDENT. 249 
 
 But we have a simple story to narrate, which will suffi- 
 ciently illustrate the kindly hospitality which characterised 
 the poorest of our rural population, and the generous feel- 
 ing with which the greatest could remember and requite 
 the little services which inclination induced, or necessity 
 forced, them to accept. 
 
 Upon the banks of one of the most beautiful little lakes 
 which is to be found in the Lowlands of Scotland, and not 
 far from the ancient and now half-forgotten village of Lin- 
 dorcs, stand four humble cottages, which are still the abodes 
 of men; though, to the eyes of a modern traveller, their 
 low walls and moss-covered roofs would present the idea of 
 sheep-cots or cattle-sheds, rather than that of human habi- 
 tations. The fields around them are now in the highest 
 state of cultivation; and the gentle hills with which they 
 are on all sides surrounded, where inaccessible to the plough, 
 are, for the most part, covered with thriving plantations, 
 which give a sheltered and picturesque appearance to the 
 little world in which they are situated. These simple shiel- 
 ings seem to have outlasted many of their humble contem- 
 poraries, the sites of which are now only indicated by two 
 or three decaying trees, which, in the greenness of youth, 
 must have beautified the little gardens of sober old men, 
 who are long ago in their graves, and shaded the sports of 
 children, who are now, perhaps, tottering with bleached 
 locks through the crowded streets of some smoky town, 
 forgetful alike of the quiet fields upon which they danced 
 away the innocent morning of existence, and the spreading 
 trees beneath whose branches they had imitated the voice 
 of the cuckoo, and listened to the song of birds, with spirits 
 as light and musical as their own. 
 
 About fifty years ago, one of these cottages was occupied 
 by James W and his wife, a most respectable and in- 
 dustrious pair, whose humble virtues are still remembered 
 with esteem by the elderly part of the community in the
 
 2BO TALES OP THE BORDEHS. 
 
 neighbourhood where they lived. James was a weaver, 
 and, like most of his craft at that time, he manufactured 
 his own yarn, and sold his own cloth. But, besides thia 
 little business, which he earned on for himself, he was 
 often employed by the country people in what was called 
 customer work. He also farmed a small piece of ground, 
 which afforded him a healthful occupation in the spring 
 months, and supported a cow, whose produce, to use his 
 own language, " keepit a fu' house a' the year round." 
 
 James was rather an intelligent man for his station. Be- 
 sides being deeply versed in all that Biblical knowledge 
 which was then so happily cultivated by the labouring class 
 in Scotland, he had read Josephus and some other old his- 
 torians, whose writings he quoted with so much promptness 
 and propriety, that many of his simple listeners believed 
 him to be almost inspired, and some of them went even so 
 far as to say that his speeeh wanted only a little polishing 
 to make him a match for the minister. But, though James 
 really possessed a greater amount of knowledge than most 
 of those with whom he mingled, he never exhibited that 
 arrogant, overbearing manner, which is too often allied to 
 superior abilities. His good-nature was equal to his other 
 acquirements, and he was a special favourite with all who 
 knew him. He could explain an abstruse doctrine to the 
 satisfaction of the old gudcmen, and enlarge with great ani- 
 mation on the merits of good housewifery, not forgetting, 
 in the course of discussion, to pay a delicate compliment to 
 the thrifty dames who intrusted him with the manufactur- 
 ing of their linen. Nor was he less admired by the younger 
 part of the community; for, while the old and sober asserted 
 that James was a canny man, and a learned man, the young 
 and frolicsome assured one another that he was a droll man, 
 and a funny man. On the harvest field he was the very 
 " soul of all;" for he never wanted a queer story or a witty 
 jest, to cheer the spirits of his fellow-labourers, when they
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 251 
 
 began to flag under the heat and toil of the day. His wit, 
 however, was of that quiet, inoffensive kind, which delights 
 those who listen, without wounding the feelings of those 
 upon whom it is exercised. He possessed a happy turn, too, 
 f6r settling the disputes which frequently arose among the 
 young and fiery spirits composing the little army of reap- 
 ers with whom he was engaged. When a competition, or 
 campe, as it was called, occurred, James's mediation was 
 often necessary to reconcile the contending parties to the 
 results of the contest; and his talent was seldom exerted in 
 vain. While the pride of the vanquished brought forth 
 charges of unfair play to cover the shame of defeat, and 
 while these charges were repelled by the boasting of the 
 victors, James stepped forward with some humorous re- 
 mark, or displayed some piece of ludicrous mimicry, which 
 overpowered the spirit of contention, and united both parties 
 in a harmonious roar of laughter. He was not only umpire 
 in their quarrels, and master of the ceremonies at their feasts, 
 but chaplain in ordinary at their common breakfasts and din- 
 ners among the stocks. Upon these occasions, it was pleas- 
 ing to remark the solemnity which prevailed in the usually 
 noisy assembly, when James took off his old dimpled hat, 
 and, with a devotional gravity, which contrasted finely with 
 the cheerful expression of his ordinary countenance, solicited 
 the blessing of God upon the simple repast of which they 
 were about to partake. If at any time the sly winks of 
 some mischievous wag succeeded in raising a titter among 
 the younger part of the company, it was suppressed in a 
 moment; for, though James was extremely good-natured, 
 he was always severe in rebuking the conduct of those who 
 showed the least disrespect to religion. 
 
 Having thus given a general account of James's character, 
 we must now proceed to narrate a simple* anecdote in his 
 life, which we consider worthy of being known, not only on 
 account of the generosity of feeling which it exhibits, but
 
 252 TALES OF THE BOBBERS. 
 
 also on account of the opportunity which it affords for 
 displaying the genuine simplicity of manners prevailing 
 among the class to which he belonged at the period when it 
 occurred. 
 
 One fine afternoon, in the beginning of the winter of 1776, 
 as James was busily employed at his occupation in the shop, 
 Nanny, his wife, entered with a handful of pirns, and a 
 countenance which betokened something of importance. 
 She was evidently in a hurry, and needed her husband's 
 assistance; but hesitated about the propriety of asking it. 
 
 " When Jamie's aff the loom," said she to herself, "neither 
 beam-traddles nor bore-staff 11 budge a single bit; and, if he 
 fa's in wi' onybody by the gate, wha kens when he may 
 come back again 1 for the greatest faut that oor Jamie has, 
 is just that he likes a crack owre weel." 
 
 Notwithstanding of these prudential considerations, 
 Nanny did broach the subject in a most becoming and de- 
 licate manner, by asking her husband's advice in her pre- 
 sent perplexity. 
 
 "What are we to do noo, Jamie?" said she, in a rather 
 depressed tone. " There's no a pickle meal i' the barrel; 
 and I hae the cow's supper to get in, and the butter to mak, 
 and the bed to mak, and the milk to 'earn, forby mony a 
 ither thing that maun be done sae, ye see, I hae nae time 
 to gang for meal the nicht." 
 
 "Hout, lassie!" said James, with a smile; "I'll tell ye 
 what we'll do. I'll just get a pock, and set up by to Sandy 
 Laing's for a peck or twa to keep oor teeth gaun till oor ain 
 melder come frae the mill." 
 
 "Weel, aweel, Jamie," said the guidwife, glad to find 
 such a ready remedy for all her difficulties. " If ye'll bring 
 the meal, I'll mak the parritch, lad; but it wad hae been a 
 braw thing if we had haen a bit cratur o' oor ain to gang an 
 errant like this, and we micht hae been makin something at 
 oor wark i' the time."
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 253 
 
 "It's very true, lassie," said James; "but, if we hac uae 
 bairn to carry meal, we hae nane to eat it let's aye be con- 
 tent, woman." 
 
 James was soon provided with a clean linen bag, which 
 he deposited in his pocket; and, crossing his arms upon his 
 back, he set off to the neighbouring village of Lindores for 
 the necessary supply of meal. As he was proceeding along 
 the ridge of a natural embankment, which forms the north- 
 eastern boundary of the loch, he saw a well-dressed young 
 man advancing towards him. The stranger seemed to be 
 in a hurry at least one might have supposed so from the 
 rapidity of his motion; but he occasionally stopped and 
 looked down upon the frozen lake, which expanded to the 
 sky like a mighty mirror for the passing clouds to behold 
 their own shadows in. After gazing for a few minutes, as 
 if he had forgotten the length of his journey in contemplat- 
 ing the beauty of the prospect which extended beneath him, 
 he would start off at a quicker pace, as if anxious to redeem 
 the time which he had lost in gratifying an idle curiosity. 
 When he drew near, James could easily discover, from his 
 superior dress, slender make, and pale, meditative counte- 
 nance, that he did not belong to that class " who drudge 
 through wet and dry with never-ceasing toil;" and, not- 
 withstanding of his itch for conversation, he would have 
 passed the stranger without making any remark upon the 
 state of the weather, the beauty of the scenery, or the an- 
 tiquities of the parish. But the young man, who seemed 
 to be as inquisitive as James was communicative, addressed 
 him in a tone of frank cordiality, which at once removed 
 every feeling of reserve. 
 
 After a few questions had been asked and answered, 
 James, recollecting his errand, pulled out the bag which he 
 had received from his wife, and, exhibiting it to his new- 
 found acquaintance, remarked 
 
 " I'm just gaun doon by to Sandy Laiug's here, to get
 
 254 TALES OP THE BOKDEK9. 
 
 twa pecks o' meal; and gin ye'll stap at leisure for a wee, 
 I'll gae doon the hill wi' ye, and point oot a' the curiosities 
 o' the place by the gate." 
 
 The stranger agreed to this proposal, and James marched 
 ofFwith most ungcntlcinanly strides to the merchant's, from 
 which he returned in an incredibly short time, with his 
 meal on his back, his hat in his hand, and his body bent 
 forward several degrees beyond its usual perpendicular posi- 
 tion. 
 
 "Ugh!" said James, as he again came up with the 
 stranger, " I'm clean oot o' breath wi' my hurry; but an 
 auld body's blast's sune blawn, and that's a stiff brae to 
 climb wi' a burden; but mine's no a heavy ane." 
 
 " Permit me to cany it a bit till you recover yourself," 
 said the stranger, taking hold of the bag. 
 
 "Na, na, sir," said James, laughing. "I'm muckle 
 obliged greatly obliged, sir; but ye dinnakcn the penalty 
 o' carryin a pock o' meal yet. Only look at my back, and 
 think hoo sic a melvyin wad suit on your fine black coat. 
 It wad mak ye look like a miller athegither; and the ladies, 
 whan they saw ye neist, wadna ken that it was just yersel 
 again. But I'll gather wund in a wee; and, i' the mean- 
 time, as I promised to gie ye an account o' the curiosities o' 
 the place, I'll just begin wi' the nearest first; and, I assure 
 ye, if onything short o' real richteousness can hallow the 
 dust o' the earth, we noo stand on hallowed ground. This 
 very spot where we noo breathe bears the name o' M'Duff 's 
 Hill; and thae auld stumps o' wa's, that ye see lookin oot 
 amang the grass there, are the remains o' what was ance a 
 castle or a palace belangin to the Thanes o' Fife. It wad 
 be a very unpregndble place afore the invention o' gun- 
 powther; for ye'll observe that it has Lindores Loch on the 
 south, the Dog Loch on the wast, the Boistart Loch on the 
 north, and the Childert Loch on the east; and there's nae 
 doot but they wad hae ditches atween, to prevent their
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 255 
 
 enemies frae gettin in upon them by surprise. I could tell 
 ye some fine stories about the sieges and battles that hae 
 happened here; but, as it wad tak owre muckle o' yer time, 
 I shall just mention hoo the lochs cam to get their names. 
 About Lindores Loch I need say naething. A'body kens 
 that it's just ca'ed after the little towny there, that stands 
 on the north side o't. But the Dog Loch's rather a darker 
 subject. It's supposed to hae derived its name frae the 
 purpose it was devoted to. In auld times, ilka great chief 
 had twa or three packs o' hounds, for huntin boars, and 
 deers, and men wi'; and it's believed that the dogs frae the 
 castle were aye driven to that loch to drink, when the chase 
 was done; and the auld anes, that were owre sair bursten 
 to rin again, were thrown into the middle o't, wi' stanes 
 about their necks, to droon. Sae, ye see, frae this circum- 
 stance it got the name o' the Dog Loch. The Boistart Loch, 
 again, as ye'll observe, lies atween twa hills; and when the 
 wind blaws frae the east or the wast, it gathers into great 
 gusts i' the glen, and maks the water jaw, and jawp, and 
 foam like a caldron; and for this reason it has been ca'ed 
 Boistart, or Boisterous, Loch. But there's a better story 
 than this connected wi' the name o' the Childert Loch; and 
 I aye like to tell't, on account o' the generosity that it dis- 
 plays, and the honour that it reflects upon oor country- 
 women, wha, even in the maist savage times, werena athe- 
 gither withoot some gliffins o' natural affection. It was the 
 custom, it seems, in thae rude ages, for the leddies to engage 
 in oot-door sports as weel as the men; and a yery common 
 amusement hereabout, wi' mothers and nurses o' a' descrip- 
 tions, was the drawin o' their bairns, in a sort o' boxes or 
 cradles, upon the smooth ice o' the loch. This diverted the 
 women folk, and exercised the little anes, wha were thus 
 prepared for the hardships o' the wild life that they after- 
 wards led. Aweel, ae fine winter afternoon, as ane o' the 
 bairns' maids frae the castle was pu'in a young Macduf^ in
 
 25G TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 a braw silver-mounted cradle, upon the loch, and his mother 
 lookin at them frae the hill here maybe frae the very place 
 where we noo stand the ice brak, and doon gaed the cradle, 
 bairn and a', to the bottom o' the loch. The puir lassie, 
 wha stood upon a stronger part o' the ice, and still had the 
 broken leadin-strings in her hand, heard the screams o' the 
 distracted mother, and saw the muddy water risin owre the 
 head o' the helpless wean; and, castin a confused look 
 around, to see if ony assistance was at hand, she plunged 
 into the same hole; and, in tryin to save the bairn, lost 
 hersel. The watchman on the castle-tower heard the screams 
 o' the leddy, and saw the melancholy accident; and ae tout 
 o' his horn sent a hunder hardy callants to the place; but 
 they were owre late. The bairn and his nurse were pu'ed 
 oot o' the loch clasped in ane anither's arms; but the life 
 had gaen oot o' them baith. It's said, however, that the 
 body o' the bit lassie wha had perished in tryin to save that 
 young sprout o' nobility received a' the honour that the 
 gratitude o' its high-minded parents could confer. The 
 last act o' her life was noble, and she was buried in the 
 same grave wi' the son o' Macduff. But, noo that I've 
 recovered my breath, we'll be joggin awa, if ye like; for 
 ye'll be clean wearied oot wi' waitin upon an auld man's 
 havers." 
 
 "I assure you I am not," said the stranger. "I have 
 been much delighted with your recital; and I shall never 
 think that time lost which is spent listening to such inte- 
 resting anecdotes. But, pray, what is the name of that 
 old, grey-roofed house upon the bank, at the western ex- 
 tremity of the loch 1 " 
 
 " Ou, that's just oor auld kirk," said James; " and a very 
 venerable biggin it is, too. It was ance a Eoman Catholic 
 chapel; but the altar and the images hae been a' demo- 
 lished; and the only vestige o' superstition that remains 
 noo is the cross upon the riggin, and the jugs, and a stano
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 257 
 
 basin for the holy water, in the porch. But that's a fine, 
 solemn situation, ye'll alloo, for a kirk ; and that's a 
 bonny bury ing-ground around it, too. It's just a plea- 
 sure to puir bodies like me to think that they hae a claim 
 to sic a quiet inheritance, "when a' the toils and troubles 
 o' life are past." 
 
 " 'Tis indeed a sweetly-retired spot/' said the stranger ; 
 " and it wants only that ' cheerless, unsocial plant,' the 
 sepulchral yew, to make it accord exactly to the descrip- 
 tion given by Gray in these beautiful lines of the Elegy 
 ' Beneath these rugged elms that yew-tree's shade, 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.' " 
 
 "The description agrees unco weel, sir," said James; 
 " for mony a sober Christian and mony a royit callant lie 
 thegither below yon grassy divot, withoot bein sensible o' 
 the company they keep. But, noo that we're speakin o' 
 kirks, gin y'll just turn a wee bit to the richt wi' me, 
 I'll let ye see a kirk construckit by the hands o' the 
 Creawtor himsel; and, I'm sure, he has been mony a 
 time as devootly worshipped there as ever he was in 
 temples built by human hands." 
 
 The distance was but a few steps out of the way ; 
 and, as the stranger was enthusiastic in his desire to see 
 every curiosity, he readily agreed to accompany James 
 to the place. They accordingly turned into a narrow 
 footpath, which diverged to the right, and winded 
 among the gorse in a more southerly direction. The 
 lake, which had been for some time concealed by a 
 shoulder of the hill, again appeared ; and the hill 
 itself, divided into two ridges forming a capacious 
 amphitheatre, covered by smooth grass, and surrounded 
 on all sides hy tall broom and impenetrable furze. 
 At the head or northern end of this dingle, the ground 
 rises into a mound of considerable height and regu- 
 VOL. x. i
 
 268 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 larity of form; and from this mound the prospect in all 
 directions is unobstructed and extensive. 
 
 "There," said James, "is the kirk o' the Covenanters; 
 and mony a guid sermon has been preached there, in defiance 
 o' the winter's cauld and the summer's heat, and the perse- 
 cution o' cruel men, that was waur to bide than them baith. 
 In that howe stood the minister, upon a muckle stane that 
 has been lang syne removed; and the congregation sat upon 
 the brae around him. The sentry stood upon this knowe 
 here, at yer richt hand; and it still bears the name o' the 
 Watchman's Tower. His business, as ye'll maybe ken, was 
 to watch for the appearance o' an enemy, and gie warnin to 
 the preacher and his hearers to provide for their safety, by 
 standin to their arms or takin to their heels. Mony a 
 time I picture to mysel the confusion that wad tak place 
 amang the women f6lk, when a party o' wild dragoons 
 were seen scamperin in this direction. I think I hear the 
 watchman fire his gun, as he rins to the congregation; I 
 think I see the minister faulding up the Word o' God, and 
 descendin to his audience wi' the composed dignity o' ane 
 that has settled his account wi' time, and is prepared to 
 dee for the doctrines he has advanced; then there is the 
 animatin address that he delivers to his little flock, as they 
 gather around him, wi' their swords in their richt hand, and 
 their Bibles in the left; the tears o' their greetin wives, and 
 dochters, and sisters, and sweethearts, fa'in thick as a sim- 
 mer shower, while they stand tremblin and sabbin, and 
 pleadin wi' their freens to flee frae the dangers o' the comin 
 storm. I think I see them wringin their hands and rivin 
 their hair wi' agony, when their entreaties are answered by 
 the deliberate determination o' the auld, and the fiery re- 
 solution o' the young, wi' the fearfu assurance that they 
 will conquer or dee. I think I see that little company o' 
 matrons and maidens retirin slowly frae the scene o' con- 
 fusion; while aye noo and then some kind-hearted youth,
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 269 
 
 wha convoys and comforts them, fa's oot frae the band, and 
 rins back to the ranks. Then they begin singin a hymn o' 
 praise to the God o' battles, wha is able to withstand the 
 powerfu, and protect the oppressed; and immediately 
 when the crack o' the guns and the clang o' the swords has 
 convinced them that the deadly wark is indeed begun 
 they are kneelin doon on the grass, wi' their een turned up 
 to heaven, and sabbin oot wordless prayers for the success 
 and the safety o' their freens; there is that little band o' heroes, 
 noo broken and driven back by superior numbers, noo rallyin 
 around their leader, and returnin to the charge wi' a shout 
 o' triumph that maks a' the hills ring; they are noo ance 
 mair repulsed, and nearly borne down by the heavy onset 
 o' their mair skilfu enemies and, just as my heart begins 
 to tremble for their sakes, I hear the cheers o' a fresh rein- 
 forcement o' countrymen, and see their swords brandishin 
 owre the brae, as they rush down to the assistance o' their 
 freens, wha welcome them to the ranks wi' the inspirin war- 
 cry o' the party, ' God and oor country ! ' The bluidy per- 
 secutors are at last broken and dispersed afore the irresist- 
 ible charge o' the united pawtriots; and, while they are 
 scamperin frae the field wi' mony a toom saddle in their 
 train, the victors are busy, devoutly offerin up thanks to 
 Heaven for the battle they hae won. 
 
 " But this is no a', sir. I think I see the women folk 
 returnin to the scene o' strife, to lament owre the dead, 
 and to administer consolation to the deein. There is a puir 
 widow supportin the lifeless head o' her husband kissin 
 his bluidy lips i' the agonies o' her grief, and strivin to close 
 the gapin wounds, that gie nae rnair pain to the body that 
 bears them; a beautifu and an affectionate dochter kneelin 
 by the side o' her expirin parent, twinin her arms around 
 his neck, and droonin wi' her bitter lamentations the deep 
 groans o' the deein man; a band o' sisters are noo endea- 
 vourin to bear awa the dead body o' a fair-haired striplin,
 
 260 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 wha had been the pride o' their family, and the joy o' 
 their hearts; and there is ane there wha, though nae re- 
 lation to the youth, feels his fate mair deeply than the 
 nearest o' his kin; upon her pale face there is a fearfu 
 struggle between modesty and grief the last overcomes, 
 and, forgetfu o' the presence o' ony but the dead, she clasps 
 him in her arms, while her breast heaves and sabs like ane 
 wha is suffocatin wi some unutterable feelin ! Then there 
 are her neebors, wha never kenned onything o' her affec- 
 tions, till death had divulged them, remarkin, in the lan- 
 guage c' Scripture, 'Behold how she loved him!' But, 
 'deed, sir, I maun hae dune; for ye'll be like to think that 
 I've gane clean daft athegither wi' sae muckle nonsense ; 
 and I maun confess, that, when I get on thae auld stories, 
 I haena guid gettin aff them again." 
 
 " I just think," said the stranger, "that, if you had 
 lived in the days of the Covenant, you would have been a 
 most inveterate conventicler; and, to confess a truth, had 
 I lived at the same period, I would most likely have been 
 found in the same ranks; for, ere I arrived at that age 
 when men are ashamed to cry, I often wept most heartily 
 over the sufferings of the poor hillmen. But night ap- 
 proaches; and, as I suppose I have a .long way to go 
 before I can get a bed, I would thank you to direct me 
 the nearest road to Cupar." 
 
 " To Cupar, sir?" said James, in surprise. "Ye dinna 
 surely intend to gang to Cupar this nicht?" 
 
 " No," said the stranger ; "I only intend to go as far as 
 the first public-house where I can find accommodation for 
 the night; but that will not be just at hand, I believe." 
 
 " Atweel no, sir," said James; "for there's no a public- 
 house on the road to Cupar nearer than John Denmill's 
 and that's at Easter Fernie a' the gate. But John's a 
 queer chap, and he will divert ye, if ye ance get there." 
 
 "Well," said the stranger, " a good fire, a good supper,
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 261 
 
 and a jolly landlord, make the best entertainment for a 
 traveller on a winter evening." 
 
 Our two friends proceeded for a short distance farther 
 together; and before they parted, James not only gave the 
 young man the best instructions he could with respect to 
 the road, but also invited him to come to his cottage, which 
 was just at hand, and partake of some bread and cheese, 
 assuring him at the same time " that he wad get nae 
 meat on the hill, and that his guidwife wad be as proud 
 as a duchess to hae sic a guest under her roof." 
 
 The stranger thanked James most heartily for his kind- 
 ness, but civilly declined the offered entertainment. They 
 parted with mutual esteem. James went home with his 
 meal, and the stranger went on his way. 
 
 By this time the sun had sunk to the verge of the hori- 
 zon, and the sky, which had been previously clear, began 
 to overcast. Afresh gale, too, sprung up from the east, and 
 blew full in the stranger's face. Night was approaching 
 fast ; and he had five miles to travel upon an intricate hilly 
 road, before he could reach anyplace of shelter. The moon, 
 Tipon which he had depended for light, now threatened to 
 be of little service; for though she occasionally burst 
 upon his eye through the ragged edges of the driving 
 clouds, it was but a momentary Hash, which deepened, in- 
 stead of dissipating the surrounding darkness. He but- 
 toned his coat, drew his hat closer down upon his head, and 
 made all the speed he could against the tempest, which 
 now blew so violently that it sometimes brought him to a 
 dead stand; and notwithstanding of his perilous circum- 
 stances, he could not refrain from laughing at himself, as 
 he struggled with the viewless element which opposed his 
 progress, and whistled defiance to his vengeance. 
 
 He at length cameto a place where the road divided, and, 
 turninghis back to the storm, he stood for a few minutes to 
 recollect the instructions which he had received from his
 
 262 TALES OP THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 late guide. A number of little lights now caught his eye, 
 twinkling from the cottage windows in the vale below; and 
 as he again proceeded on his way, he could not help looking 
 back, and indulging a momentary feeling of envy over the 
 condition of those who were sitting warm and dry by their 
 own firesides, while he was toiling amid the tempest. The 
 poorest inhabitants of these cottages, thought he, are, for 
 the present, blessed, when compared with me. They pos- 
 sess all the comforts of home, and perhaps do not appre- 
 ciate their worth, while I am destitute of all but a deep 
 knowledge of the value of what I do not possess. 
 
 As he advanced, the lights began to disappear. He 
 seemed to have passed beyond the limits of the inhabited 
 country, and nothing was to be seen but an uncertain road 
 before him, and darkness on every side. The storm grew 
 wilder, and the doubtful path, which he had previously 
 pursued, terminated in a number of little tracks, which 
 diverged in all directions among the furze, as if they had 
 been formed by a flock of sheep scattered over the hill in 
 search of their pasture. He tried to retrace his steps, in 
 the supposition that he had taken the wrong road; but a 
 blinding shower of snow came driving with the wind, and 
 concealed every object which might have guided him in his 
 return. He became completely bewildered, and every mo- 
 ment increased his confusion. The snow began to drift; 
 and all the stories that he had ever heard of benighted tra- 
 vellers lost among the hills rushed into his mind with pain- 
 ful distinctness. He began to run in the direction, as he 
 supposed, of the little hamlets which he had passed in the 
 afternoon; but his feet got entangled among the gorse and 
 broom which covered the hill, and he fell several tunes at 
 full length among the snow. He stood still and listened, 
 with the faint expectation that he might hear some sound 
 which would lead him to the abodes of men. Something 
 tinkled at a distance, between the gusts of the storm, like
 
 THE BEWILDERED STtTDENT. 263 
 
 the ringing of a bell He immediately shaped his course 
 by the sound, and was glad to hear that it grew louder as 
 he advanced. Though he could not conjecture the purpose 
 of a bell in that deserted region, yet such it certainly was; 
 and, as no bell will ring without motion, he trusted to find 
 some one who would be able to direct him to a place of 
 shelter. But, after he had walked for a considerable time, 
 at his utmost speed, he found himself very little nearer the 
 object of his pursuit, which seemed to retire as fast as he 
 advanced. He again began to run, and soon had the satis- 
 faction to find himself within a very few yards of the sound; 
 but still he could not perceive the object from which it 
 proceeded. The mysterious bellringer seemed to increase 
 his speed, as if he had discovered a pursuer, and determined 
 to elude his grasp. 
 
 The stranger was out of breath; he paused to listen. 
 The bell still rung, and still retired, though at a less rapid 
 rate. He had never believed in ghosts nor fairies; but this 
 mysterious phenomenon seemed to confirm his nurse's tales, 
 and make " chimeras true." He was not one, however, who 
 would shrink from phantoms without evidence of their ex- 
 istence. 
 
 "Honest, honest, lago!" said he, quoting Shakspere, 
 
 'If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.' 
 But, devil or ghost, I will hunt thee to thy den, and if I 
 can overtake thee, I will tread thee under my feet." 
 
 So saying, he renewed the chase, and, in a few minutes, 
 the bell was again jingling at a fearful rate, almost among 
 his feet. He called out to the flying mystery to stop and 
 speak with him. No answer was made; but his words 
 seemed to produce some effect; for in a moment more the 
 bell was off in another direction, tinkling and jingling as 
 loudly as ever. 
 
 "You shall not escape me thus," said the stranger, who 
 had quite forgotten his own bewildered condition in hie
 
 264 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 earnestness to discover the cause of this unaccountable 
 noise. 
 
 He again turned, and followed the bell with his utmost 
 speed; and, after a long pursuit, and many doublings and 
 windings among the broom, he at length tumbled over 
 some soft body, which rolled among his feet. He grasped 
 it in his arms and listened. The bell had ceased to jingle, 
 and nothing was to be heard but the howling of the wind 
 and the rustling of the drift. 
 
 " I have you now, my boy," said the stranger; "a,nd I 
 will bring you to a severe reckoning for all this sport." 
 
 "Bae, !" cried the terrified bellringer, struggling to 
 escape from the rude grasp which held him. 
 
 " Bae, ! " said the stranger, imitating the voice of the 
 animal. " What a silly pursuit I have been engaged in ! 
 But I am glad to find that I am not alone on these wild 
 hills in this wild night." 
 
 The young man'sknowledgeof rural economy convinced 
 him that he had chased from his companions a poor sheep, 
 who had been intrusted with a bell about his neck, as 
 was the custom in many parts of the country, to enable 
 the shepherd to discover his flock in the morning. The 
 adventure of the renowned Don Quixote occurred to his 
 mind, and he could not help laughing at himself even in 
 the midst of his misery. 
 
 Both the sheep and the man were completely exhausted, 
 and they lay still together for some time among the snow; 
 but the piercing blast and the gathering drift soon con- 
 vinced the latter that he must either renew his exertions, 
 or perish with his fleecy companion beneath the accumu- 
 lating heap. He accordingly started up, and proceeded 
 he knew not whei*e. His imagination became haunted 
 with the horrors of his condition, and the idea 
 
 " Of covered pits unfathomably deep, 
 
 A dire descent, beyond the reach of frost ;
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 265 
 
 Of faithless bogs ; of precipices huge, 
 Smoothed up with snow" 
 
 so paralysed his powers that he could scarcely move. But 
 
 again 
 
 " The thoughts of home 
 Ensh'd on his nerves, and call'd their vigour forth." 
 
 He now found himself descending the hillside; but whe- 
 ther it was the same side which he had ascended, or some 
 other, he could not conjecture. By this time the snow 
 had accumulated to a considerable depth in the hollows; 
 and he frequently plunged into it up to the middle before 
 he was aware. He pulled out his watch to try if he could 
 ascertain the hour; but he could not. He tried his voice, 
 in the hope that some one might hear him, and come to 
 his assistance; but his feeble cry died away unanswered 
 upon the blast. His situation was a desperate one, and 
 he resolved to make one desperate effort more for exist- 
 ence. He turned his back to the storm, determined to run 
 before it as far as he was able; and, should he perish, if 
 possible to perish upon his feet. He had not proceeded 
 far, however, when he tumbled over a steep bank, and 
 rolled from hillock to hillock till he reached the bottom 
 of the den in a state of insensibility. When he again re- 
 covered, he found himself beneath the storm, stretched 
 among the undrifted snow, which was lying about a foot 
 deep around him, while close by his side a brawling stream 
 was dashing over the large stones which, like him, had 
 rolled down the hill, and rested in the bottom of the 
 glen. " Here," thought the stranger, " I have at last 
 found a place where I may die in peace ; and it is, per- 
 haps, better to give up the struggle, then again to rush 
 into the tempestonly to perish beneath its pitiless pelting." 
 
 What were his religious feelings intheprospect of death 
 we know not; but his home and his friends, the grief which 
 his early fate would occasion, and the melancholy satisfac-
 
 266 . TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 tion which they would derive from bestowing the last ritea 
 upon his lifeless remains, were present to his imagination. 
 And, lest they should be deprived of the performance of 
 these sadly-pleasing duties, by the ignorance of those who 
 found him, he pulled out his pocket-book, and endeavoured 
 to write his own name, with the name of his father's farm, 
 and the name of the parish in which it was situated. 
 While thus engaged, in that 
 
 " Hopeless certainty of mind 
 
 Which makes us feel at length resign'd 
 To that which our foreboding years 
 Presents the worst and last of fears," 
 
 the deep sonorous sound of a well-blown horn fell upon his 
 ears, and roused him to fresh exertions. He had crossed 
 the burn and clambered to the top of the bank before the 
 blast had ceased; and, as he endeavoured to fix the direc- 
 tion of the sound, the horn was again winded. It seemed 
 not to be very distant. Hope invigorated his weary limbs, 
 and he dashed through the opposing wreaths as stoutly as 
 if his toils had been only newly begun. Another blast was 
 blown, and he continued to run upon the sound till it ceased, 
 and it was not again repeated. 
 
 He recollected that it was common for the farmers, in 
 many parts of Scotland, to blow a horn at eight o'clock on 
 the winter evenings, for the purpose of warning their ser- 
 vants to attend to the suppering of the horses; and he 
 hoped that, if he could keep to the proper direction, this 
 might lead him to some hospitable farmhouse, where he 
 would soon forget the horrors of the storm before a comfort- 
 able fire. He now proceeded more leisurely, striving not to 
 deviate from the course which the horn had induced him to 
 take; and keeping a sharp look-out on all sides, and an in- 
 tense attention to every sound, in the expectation that some 
 cottage light might twinkle upon his eye, or some human 
 voice reach his ear, in the intervals of the deafening blast.
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 267 
 
 But still he could discover no sight nor sound of man; and 
 the shifting tempest, which attacked him from every direc- 
 tion, soon confounded all his ideas of time and distance. In 
 some places, too, the snow had accumulated in such im- 
 mense masses, that he could not pass through them; and 
 the circuits which he was obliged to make tended farther 
 to confuse his mind. His spirits again began to sink, and 
 his limbs to falter; and that sluggish indifference which fol- 
 lows the extinction of hope again took possession of his 
 senses. But, while he was dragging himself onward with 
 slow and feeble steps, a new and extraordinary noise broke 
 upon his ear. He stood still and listened; but he could not 
 conjecture the cause of it. It seemed to mingle with, and 
 yet it was different from, the ravings of the storm. It pro- 
 ceeded from one quarter, and remained steadily in one place. 
 There was a mingling of sounds, like the dashing of waves, 
 the rushing of winds, and the jingling of a thousand little 
 bells, accompanied occasionally by a harsh, guttural cry, 
 like that which is emitted by a band of wild geese when 
 disturbed in their "watery haunt." 
 
 Though this mysterious noise was more appalling than 
 attractive, and though it promised neither rest nor shelter 
 to the stranger, yet it operated upon his curiosity, and in- 
 duced him to continue his exertions. The terrific sounds 
 grew louder and louder as he advanced. The clouds of snow, 
 which were every moment dashed into his face, prevented 
 him from seeing more than a few yards before him; and an 
 involuntary shudder passed over his frame, as he thought 
 that he might even now be toppling upon the brink of some 
 dreadful gulf, and that another step might precipitate him 
 into destruction. Something terrible was certainly at hand; 
 but what was the nature of the danger was beyond his 
 powers of conception. 
 
 The unaccountable noise, which was now thundering be- 
 neath him, resembled most the dashing of a cataract, or the
 
 268 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 roaring of the ocean, when its far-accumulated waves are 
 broken into foaming madness among hidden rocks. He 
 stood still, and gazed intently in the direction of the sound. 
 The storm abated a little in its violence; and he thought 
 he could perceive a black expanse at a little distance 
 stretching out before him. He advanced a few steps nearer 
 it. It was tossing in fearful commotion, andhere and there 
 streaked with lines, and dotted with patches of white. It 
 was evidently water ; but whether lake, river, or ocean, 
 was all a mystery. 
 
 " Can it be possible," thought he, ' that the storm has 
 insensibly driven me in the right direction ? Do I now 
 stand among the rocks that look down upon the breaker- 
 beaten bay of St Andrews ? Or have I returned again to 
 the banks of the Tay ? Or can this be the little loch 
 A'hich I passed in the afternoon, and which then lay 
 stretched out in frozen tranquillity beneath me ?" 
 
 His heart grew sick and his brain dizzy with conjecture. 
 He turned away from the stunning scene with a shiver of 
 despair. A strange sense of torpidity and madness passed 
 along his nerves it was the confused energy of an active 
 soul, struggling with the numbedness of exhausted nature. 
 The snow seemed to swim around him his eyes became 
 heavy, and, when he closed them, numberless phantoms 
 seemed to pass before him, likefigures in a dream. In this 
 state of drowsy insensibility, he lost for a time all recollec- 
 tion of his sufferings his blood began to stagnate in his 
 veins, and the icy coldness of death was stealing over his 
 extremities, when a covey of wild ducks swept past, and 
 their short, sharp cries startled him again into conscious- 
 ness of his condition. When he opened his eyes, a faint 
 light seemed to be glimmeringfromahill-side about a hun- 
 dred yards above him. It was now seen, and now lost, as 
 the clouds of drift passed between him and the place from 
 which it issued. But still it was there ; and its dim, sha-
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 269 
 
 dowy lustre was to him like life to the dead. Hope again 
 returned to his heart, and animation to his limbs ; and 
 in a few minutes he had reached the window of a little 
 cottage, which was so completely drifted up with snow 
 on all sides save that on which he stood, that any one 
 might have passed in broad daylight without supposing 
 it to be a human habitation. 
 
 The stranger looked in at the window. The fire, which 
 was composed of peats, had been covered up with ashes to 
 prevent them from wasting through the night; but, by 
 this time, the small dust had passed through the grate, 
 and there onlyremained a little heap of live embers, which 
 cast a sombre glow around the interior of the cottage. 
 The family were in bed. The stranger rapped gently on 
 the window, and then listened for an answer; but nothing 
 stirred. He rapped a little louder, and again listened. 
 
 " What's that, Jamie ?" said a female voice within 
 
 " Hoch, hoch, hey !" said another, yawning and stretch- 
 ing out his arms from the same box 01 bed, as if to relieve 
 them from the uneasiness of lying long in one position. 
 It was evident that the voice of the first speaker had 
 awakened the second, without communicating to his mind 
 the purport of the question, which was again repeated. 
 
 "What was that Jamie 1 ?" 
 
 " What was what, lassie ?" said the wondering husband. 
 ' I see naething by ordinar." 
 
 " Man," returned the guidwife, "did you no hear yon 
 awfu rattle at the windock ? My flesh's a' creepin, for I 
 fear something no canny's aboot the back o' the hoose. It 
 was just like the noise that was heard at Willy Patty's 
 windock last year afore his mither dee'd." 
 
 "Havers, lassie; ye've just been dreamin," saidtheguid- 
 man, who was anxious to quiet his partner's fears, though 
 he was not altogether free from some tremours himself. 
 
 The stranger gave another rap.
 
 870 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "Hear ye that, then, Jamie?" said the guidwife. "It's 
 no sic a dream, I trow; for that's something awfu." 
 
 "Deed is't," said James, who was now convinced that 
 the "rattle" was not quite so terrible as it had been repre- 
 sented; " it's an awfu thing for ony puir body to be oot in 
 sic a nicht as this; but let's be thankfu, Nanny, that we 
 hae a roof to hap oorsels frae the storm, and a door .to let a 
 hooseless body in at." 
 
 James flung himself around, and disentangled his feet 
 from the bedclothes, with the intention of going immedi- 
 ately to admit the stranger; but, ere he got away from the 
 bedside, his "better half" laid hold of him, and cried out, 
 in great perturbation 
 
 "Stop, Jamie stop, I beseech ye; and consider weel 
 what ye're aboot; for ye ken that, forby the danger o' rob- 
 bers and rascals, the evil spirits just delight to range aboot 
 in sic a nicht as this, like roarin lions, seekin wham they 
 may devour; and wha kens what may come owre ye, if ye 
 pit yersel i' their merciment." 
 
 "Havers, woman!" said James again; "let me go, I tell 
 ye; for I'll speak at the windock, and spier if he wants 
 shelter, though it war auld Satan himsel." 
 
 Nanny relaxed her grasp; but she seemed determined 
 that the guidman should encounter no danger which she 
 did not take a share of; and she too sprung to the floor, 
 and followed him to the window. 
 
 " Wha's there 1 ?" cried James, in a voice that showed he 
 was neither to be cowed by fiends, fairies, ghosts, nor men. 
 
 " A bewildered stranger," was the reply. 
 
 "Weel," said James, "a great stranger maybe a great 
 villain; but, for a' that, if I understand my Bible richtly, 
 the words, ' I was a stranger and ye took me in,' will never 
 be addressed to ane wha has the hard heart to refuse a 
 nameless wanderer the shelter o' his roof in sic a nicht as 
 this. Sae just gang ye aboot to the tither side o' the hoose,
 
 THE BEWILDEEED STUDENT. 271 
 
 and come alang the fore wa' a' the gate, till ye find the door, 
 and I'll let ye in." 
 
 "Thank you!" said the stranger. 
 
 Nanny, who now discovered that the object of all her 
 fears was neither ghost nor goblin, but a conversable and 
 civil creature of her own species, thought that her husband 
 might be safely trusted in his presence without her support; 
 and she accordingly returned again to her bed. 
 
 James lighted the lamp, and went to admit the stranger; 
 but, when he opened the door, he opened no passage for his 
 entrance. A solid wall of snow still separated the guidman 
 and his intended guest. 
 
 "Preserve's a'!" cried the former, "that's been an awfu' 
 nicht, indeed. The door's drifted up to the lintel; and 
 there's nc a hole i' the hale hicht o't, that a mouse could 
 creep oot or in through. Are ye aye there yet, freen?" 
 (addressing the stranger, who answered in the affirmative.) 
 " Aweel, aweel," he continued, "ye maun just content yer- 
 sel awhile or I get a spade and try and mak some oot-gate 
 in't." 
 
 James got a spade, and commenced to delve the snow 
 into the passage, between the hallant and the outer door; 
 but he had no sooner broken down a part of the barrier, 
 than the insidious drift entered the aperture, and, getting 
 under his shirt, which was the only garment he had on, it 
 whirled about his bare legs. He persisted for awhile, but 
 his powers of perseverance ultimately forsook him. He 
 flung down the spade, and, as every gust of wind brought a 
 fresh volley of snow whistling about his ankles, he leaped 
 as high as the henroost, which formed the ceiling of the 
 lobby, would permit. 
 
 "Preserve's a', thafs dreadful" he at length cried out, 
 making a most magnificent jump at the same time. "Flesh 
 and bluid canna endure that it wad gar a horse swither. 
 Ye'll just hae to thole awee till I get my claes on, lad."
 
 272 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 James bounded into the house, and commenced immedi- 
 ately to get his shivering limbs conducted into the proper 
 openings of a pair of canvas trousers. But this was no 
 easy task. He had got one foot in, and the other within 
 a few inches of the entrance, when his great toe unluckily 
 got entangled in one of the pockets of the garment , and, 
 as he was striving to preserve his equilibrium, by hopping 
 through the house backwards upon one leg, the stranger, 
 who had forced himself through the aperture which he 
 had made in the doorway, entered like a moving mass of 
 snow. James at length succeeded, by the support of the 
 bed, which happily resisted his retrograde movement, in 
 getting on his clothes; and then all his attention was 
 directed to the comfort of his guest. 
 
 " Dear me, man," said he, taking hold of the stranger's 
 arm with the one hand, and a broom with the other, 
 "ye'll need hauf-an-hoor's soopin afore we get a sicht o' 
 ye. I'm sure ye're xmco far frae comfortable below that 
 wread o' snaw." 
 
 As the stranger was standing before the fire, while James 
 was endeavouring to clear away the snow from his neck 
 and shoulder, the sudden change of temperature which 
 he had experienced, expanding the fluids faster than the 
 vessels which contained them, produced in his extremi- 
 ties that agonising sensation which is more forcibly express- 
 ed by the Scottish word dinnling, than by any other word 
 with which we are acquainted. Sickness and pain over- 
 powered his exhausted nerves. His eyes turned wildly up 
 to the roof of the cottage. He gave one suffocating gasp 
 for breath, and sank senseless upon the floor. Jainea 
 seized him in his arms, and called out to his wife 
 
 "O Nanny, Nanny, woman ! get up and help's here ! 
 Thepuircallant's fa'enintoadrow, andl'm feared he'sgaun 
 to dee upon our hands athegither. Get up, woman, and 
 let's try if ony thing can be dune to bring him aboot again."
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 273 
 
 Nanny sprang up at the call of her husband ; and, 
 seizing the stranger by the hand, cried out 
 
 " Preserve us a', Jamie ! he's perfectly perishin' ; his 
 hand is as cauld and stiff as the poker. I maun get on the 
 kettle and heat some water to thaw the snaw aff "him." 
 "Na, na," cried James, " that wad mak him waur, 
 woman. Kin ye to the door and get a gowpen o' snaw, 
 arid rub his hands wi' it and a rough clout time aboot, 
 and sprinkle some cauld water in his face, and he'll may 
 be sune come till himsel again." 
 
 " Jamie," said the guidwife, in a tone of gentle remon- 
 strance, "the lad's gotten owre muckle snaw and cauld 
 water already; that's just what's the matter wi' him. I 
 maun hae up the fire and get something warm till 'ini." 
 
 " Ye're haverin, Nanny," said James, who was too much 
 agitated to be respectful. " Gang ye and get the snaw, I 
 tell ye; for ye understand naething o' the matter." 
 
 "Aweel,aweel, then," saidNanny, "ye hae mair skill o' 
 doctory than me, Jamie; but it's averyunnatural-likecure, 
 to rub cauld snaw on a man perishin' wi' the cauld." 
 
 Nanny got the snow, and commenced the operation 
 with great activity, while James reached his hand to a 
 pitcher which was standing near, and sprinkled a few 
 drops of water in the stranger's face. He soon began to 
 show some symptoms of returning animation, and James 
 earnestly inquired 
 
 " How are ye yet ? Are ye better noo ?" 
 
 After a considerable pause, the stranger replied, as if 
 the question had only then reached him 
 
 " I'm better now, I thank you ! " 
 
 "God be praised that it's sae !" said James. "Gie him a 
 drink, Nanny, woman, and hell be a' richt in a wee again." 
 
 Nanny brought some water, and, while she was endea- 
 vouring to pour it into the stranger's mouth, James got 
 a full view of his face, and cried out 
 
 T 2
 
 74 TALES OF THE BOKDEKS. 
 
 " He's the very young gentleman that I cam doon the 
 hill wi' this afternoon. Dear me, what a nicht he's had, 
 wanderin aiming the drift sin yon time !" 
 
 "He's a bonny laddie atony rate," said Nanny, looking 
 close into his face, " Ye'll no grudge to let him get some 
 heat noo, Jamie. Help me aff wi' his coat and his shoon; 
 and we'll just coup him inowre in oor ain warm bed, here." 
 
 " That's weel thocht on," said James. " I eanna say but 
 ye hae sometimes a gliffin o' sense aboot ye, Nanny." 
 
 The stranger soon recovered so far as to be able to put 
 off his own clothes; and though he remonstrated strongly 
 against taking possession of the honest couple's bed, they 
 would not be resisted in their kindness; and he was obliged 
 to comply. Nanny now took the management of the patient 
 wholly into her own hands; and, as she had all her life con- 
 sidered heat the only remedy for- a man perishing with cold, 
 she began to make preparations for applying her own cure. 
 She stirred the fire, supplied it with fresh fuel, laid a brick 
 across it on each side, and placed a panful of water between 
 them. She then took James's leather apron, and folded it 
 so as to form a substitute for a fan; and with it she blew 
 the slumbering embers into flaming activity. In a very 
 short time the bricks were red, and the water boiling hot. 
 The former were immersed in water, and then wrapped up 
 in flannel, and laid to the stranger's feet and breast; the 
 latter was converted into gruel, which, though not very 
 thirsty, he drank with a very good appetite having missed 
 his supper that night on the hill. 
 
 " Noo, sir," said Nanny, " ye maun just lie doon and try 
 if ye can get a glofien o' sleep; for I'll warrant ye're baith 
 tired and drowsy, after sic a wrastle amang the snaw. Gin 
 ye want onything, Jamie and me '11 just be sittin at the ingle 
 here;- but we'll mak nae din to disturb ye." 
 
 Thus heated within and without, the stranger soon lost all 
 recollection of his wanderings, in a deep and refreshing sleep.
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 
 
 " The storm without micht ralr and rustle, 
 He didna mind the storm a whustle." 
 
 James betook himself to his old companion, Josephus; and 
 Nanny sat down by the other side of the fire, and resumed 
 her evening's employment, which had been the knitting of 
 a pair of stockings for the guidman. She now felt all a 
 mother's anxiety for the comfort of the stranger; and she 
 frequently rose and peeped into the bed, to see how he 
 rested; then returned to her husband, with a smile, and 
 whispered into his ear 
 
 " The lad's sleepin as sound as a tap, yet." 
 
 The night passed away; and by the time that daylight 
 dawned down the lum the little windows being drifted up 
 with the snow Nanny had prepared a warm breakfast foi 
 the stranger, the guidman, and herself. It consisted of oat 
 meal porridge, served up in two wooden platters, with a 
 jugful of milk and three horn spoons set down on the table 
 between them. Nanny now awakened the stranger by ask- 
 ing how he had rested. She then took his clothes, which 
 had been carefully dried and warmed before the fire; and, 
 handing them into the bed, which had to serve the purpose 
 of a dressing-room also, she closed the lids remarking, that 
 " the parritch was ready; and it wad be better to sup them 
 afore they got owre cauld." The stranger dressed, and took 
 a seat beside his kind entertainers. James asked a blessing, 
 apologised for the coarseness of the fare, and despatched his 
 portion of the repast in shorter time than a fashionable 
 eater would take to stir about his coffee and crack the shell 
 of his egg. It occurred to Nanny that she might make the 
 porridge more agreeable to the stranger's delicate taste, by 
 giving him cream, instead of milk, to sup them with. She 
 accordingly brought her evening's meltith, and skimmed it 
 into his dish, remarking, at the same time 
 
 " Ye'll no like oor coorse way o' livin, sir; but hunger's 
 guid kitchen, they say, and that's no ill sap, I think, for it
 
 27 G TALES OP THE BOEDERa 
 
 was just drawn frae the coo yestreen." The stranger 
 assured her that he liked the dish exceedingly well ; and 
 Nanny added " Ye'll be used to drappies o' tea, I war- 
 rant ; but we haena had ootower twa brewins i' the 
 hoose sin we were married; and, though a wee sirple o't 
 may do brawly when the sap's scarce, yet I aye thocht 
 that it was an unco feckless sort o' a diet, for a manbody 
 especially." 
 
 After breakfast, the young student (for such was the 
 stranger) gave his entertainers an account of his wildered 
 wanderings on the hill, as we have already narrated 
 them; and James explained all the mysteries which he had 
 met to his entire satisfaction. We shall only give his expo- 
 sition of the last; namely, the fearful minglings of sounds 
 which had alarmed him so much when he approached 
 the lake. These were occasioned by the breaking up of 
 the ice, which, driven ashore in innumerable fragments 
 by the wind, rose and fell with every wave, making a con- 
 fused tinkling, like the ringing of a thousand little bells. 
 
 The storm had now abated ; and, though the roads in 
 many places were entirely blocked up, by keeping along 
 the high ground it was possible for a person on foot 
 to pursue his journey. The stanger, who was travelling 
 to the College of St. Andrews, prepared to depart. He 
 offered Nanny such a sum of money as he could spare, 
 in acknowledgement of her kindness ; but she refused it. 
 
 " Na, sir !" said she, " we'll hae nae reward. Only 
 look what a dad o' a stockin I've wrocht, that wadna 
 been wrocht gin ye hadna been here ; and the guidman's 
 gotten as muckle lear oot o' that auld book, as may ser' 
 him for a twalmonth to crack aboot ; sae, ye see, we hae 
 made some profit o' yer visit, forby a' the pleasure o' yer 
 company." 
 
 James also refused money; and still further enhanced his 
 kindness, by accompanying the stranger to the top of the
 
 THE BEWILDERED STUDENT. 277 
 
 hill, where he gave him the best directions with respect 
 to the road, and bade him an affectionate farewell. 
 
 Many years after this,a medical studentfrom the neigh- 
 bourhood was attending the lectures of the celebrated 
 
 Dr. B of Edinburgh, who one evening intimated a 
 
 desire to speak with him after the class was dismissed. 
 He accordingly waited, and the doctor opened the conver- 
 sation by inquiring if he knew an individual of the name 
 
 of James W , who lived near the village of Lindores. 
 
 He was answed in the affirmative. 
 
 "Well," said the doctor, "I owe my life to the exertions 
 of that old man and his wife; and Ireceived my firstlessons 
 in medical science from them. When I was a student at 
 the College of St. Andrews, I lost my way among the hills, 
 and was nearly smothered among the snow. I at last dis- 
 covered their cottage, and was kindly admitted. Like all 
 good knights of misventure, I fainted and fell down upon 
 the floor. James and his wife held a consultation over me, 
 and I afterwards came to learn that even here ' doctors 
 differed.' James was an Emperic, and argued from ex- 
 perience, or experiment, that cold water and friction was 
 the best remedy for numbed fingers. Nanny adhered to 
 the Dogmatics, and inferred, from reason and nature, 
 that heat was the best application for driving away cold. 
 
 " Thus Epilogism and Dogmatism contended in the 
 mouths of people who had probably never heard of the 
 names of Aristotle and Plato in their lives. But, in my 
 case, both the systems were adopted with advantage. I 
 was resuscitated by the empiric with cold, and recovered 
 by the theorist with heat. And, what is more wonder- 
 ful still, my kind physicians, unlike all other members 
 of the profession, refused to take any fee. But they are 
 not forgotten. They cast their bread upon the water, 
 and they shall find it again after many days." 
 
 We shall only add, that in a short time after this James
 
 278 TALES OF THE BOEDEE8. 
 
 received an elegant silver-mounted snuff-box, bearing the 
 
 following inscription: "From Dr B to James W . 
 
 ' I was a stranger, and ye took me in.' " 
 
 Nanny at the same time received a more useful present; 
 and both rejoiced that they had once possessed' an oppor- 
 tunity of being useful to a man whose genius had made 
 him an honour to his country, and an ornament to the pro- 
 fession to which he belonged.
 
 THE CROOKED GOMYN. 
 
 THE CKOOKED COMYN. 
 
 WALTER COMYN, Earl of Menteith, one of the "three 
 Comyns," all earls, who, in the minority of Alexander III, 
 possessed so much power in Scotland as to be able to oppose 
 all the other nobility together, was a very remarkable man. 
 Of low stature, deformed in his person, dark in his com- 
 plexion, of gigantic strength he possessed the spirit of a 
 lion with the subtlety of a fox. Neither in the planning nor 
 the executing of a political scheme could any man in Scot- 
 land or England cope with him. He made his two brothers, 
 and the thirty-three knights who joined him against the 
 measures of the English regency, his puppets, allowing them 
 no will of their own, but subjugating them entirely to his 
 direction. He could read the human countenance even of a 
 courtier of Henry III. of England as easily as he could do 
 the court hand of the clerks of his time; and, to complete 
 his character, he so falsified the muscles of his face, by mix- 
 ing up smiles and frowns in such a thorough confusion of 
 activity and change, that no one could tell his thoughts or 
 his feelings. 
 
 His wife, the countess, was directly the reverse of her 
 husband. Tall in her person, handsomely formed, with 
 graceful movements and accomplished manners, she was 
 accounted open-hearted, good-humoured, approaching to 
 simplicity, destitute of all guile and deceit. Her counte- 
 nance wore a continual smile, and was so open and ingenu- 
 ous, that it might be read like the page of a book. The 
 best proof of her goodness was the kindness she exhibited 
 to the deformed partner of her life. She boasted and he 
 admitted that she was the only person who could read 
 him, not from her powers of penetration, but from hip
 
 280 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 yielding relaxation of the deceptive discipline of his face 
 and manners. He of ten remarked that it was fortunate for 
 him that his Countess Margaret was so much of a child; for 
 he felt and acknowledged that it was only in the presence 
 of children that he considered himself safe in throwing 
 off his disguise, and appearing for a time in his natural 
 character. Such are the effects of ambition. 
 
 A legend saith that, on one occasion, the following 
 conversation took place between these dissimilar yet 
 well-mated companions 
 
 "Wertthou not so simple, fair Margaret," said the earl, 
 " I would suspect thou hadst no great affection for him 
 whom King Henry calleth the ' Crooked Comyn.' Men 
 may love me for my subtlety and power, from interest; my 
 brothers because I am their brother, from instinct; andmy 
 wolf-dog, Grim, because I join him in the chase. Now, to 
 gratify my humour for frolic on this night when I think I 
 have overturned the power of the English regent, tell me 
 what thou lovest me for, good simpleton ; for I cannot doubt 
 that simpletons have their fancies like other folks; and, if 
 thou dost not love me, why hast thou prepared for me, even 
 now on this night of my triumph, that cup of warm milk 
 curdled with sack which thou callest a posset ? I asked 
 it not of thee, and love must have suggested it." 
 
 " What should I love my Walter for," replied Countess 
 Margaret, "but his noble qualities, placed in a person the 
 defects of which, as he states them, I cannot see ? Custom 
 hath made thee straight, and love hath embellished both 
 thy mind and body ; but, above all, I love thee because 
 thou lovest me ; for it is an old saying in our cottage, 
 that love begets love, and" patting him playfully on 
 the cheek " my heart must have been barren indeed, if, 
 after ten years of thy wooing, it produced no more affec- 
 tion than was able to prepare for thee a posset of milk 
 and sack on the evening of the day of thy triumph."
 
 THE CROOKED COMYN. 281 
 
 "Thou hast made a good turn of the subject, simpleton,'' 
 said Coniyn. " If I beat my political opponents during 
 the day, thou worstest me at night by thy ingenious plea- 
 santry. Thou conquerest even nature's twists and torsels, 
 for my crooked mind and deformed body become straight 
 under the soft ministration of thy simple manners. I 
 cannot help sometimes thinking that, if it had been thy 
 fate to be wedded to such a fair piece of nature's handi- 
 work as the English baron, John Russel, who banqueted 
 #ith us yesterday a thing of red and white pigment 
 an automaton mannerist, without a mind every wo- 
 man's slave, and never his own master thy simplicity 
 would have lost its power, for, having no foil, it would 
 have merged into the idiocy of thy husband, and you 
 would have become a pair of quarrelsome simpletons." 
 
 "And if thou hadst got a wife," answered Countess Mar- 
 garet, smiling, " as deep and subtle as thyself, the charm 
 thou hast for me thy mental superiority would have 
 been lost, for want of a foil ; but thou wert too clever to 
 fall into that snare, and didsb avoid artful and knowing 
 women, though beautiful, as anxiously as I, if I were still 
 unmarried, would avoid that fair painted Jackalent thou 
 hast mentioned, the English baron, John Eussel. Sheep, 
 thou knowest often fight, and get entangled in each other's 
 horns. They are then an easy prey to thewolves. I would 
 not give my 'Crooked Corny n' for all the Russels of England. ' 
 
 " Thy rattle pleaseth me, sweet Margaret," saidComyn. 
 " But how is this 1 ? I feel ill. What can ail Comyn on 
 the night of his day of triumph ? These pains rack me. 
 So sudden an attack ! These are not usual feelings that 
 now assail me." 
 
 "Ill in the midst of health!" cried Countess Margaret. 
 " Wh at meaneth this ? where is the complaint ? Speak, 
 rleai husband ! tell thy devoted wife what may enable her 
 to yield thee relief."
 
 282 TALES OF THE BORDERS. 
 
 "A burning pain wringeth my heart," replied Oomyn, 
 with an expression of agony, "and unnaanneth a soul that 
 never knew subjugation; that is to me the only symptom 
 of danger. When Comyn trembleth, death cannot be far 
 distant." 
 
 "Thou alarmest me, dear husband," cried Countess Mar- 
 garet; " speak not in such ominous terms of what I could not 
 survive one solitary moon. What can I minister to thee ? " 
 
 "Water, water from the icy springs of Lapland!" cried 
 the frantic earl; " yet the frozen sea will not quench this 
 burning fire ! What availeth now the wiles, the subtlety, 
 the courage of Scotland's proudest earl? I never was mas- 
 ter or director of such pains as these. Death ! how success- 
 fully dost thou earn thy reputation of being the grim king ! 
 Water, beloved Margaret, for this miniature hell!" 
 
 " It is here, good heart," cried Countess Margaret. " God 
 bless its efficacy ! drink." 
 
 "It is as nothing," cried Ccmyn, after swallowing the 
 contents of the cup. " It is as nothing these tormina laugh 
 at the puny quencher of fires fiercer than those of Gehenna. 
 I must submit. Thou wilt have no terce from my earldom, 
 wherein I am not yet feudally seised. Alas ! shall my inno- 
 cent be left terceless a beggar the dependant of my bro- 
 thers? 'Sdeath, this is worse than these scorching fires! 
 Call the clerk of St John's quick." 
 
 The countess flew out of the room, and in a short time 
 returned with the clerical lawyer. 
 
 "Attend, sir," cried Comyn. "Thou seest one in the 
 hands of death; prepare, with the greatest speed of thy 
 quill, a liferent disposition of my whole earldom in favour 
 of Countess Margaret, my wife. I shall then confess to 
 thoe, and thou shalt pray for me." 
 
 " The liferent disposition I shall make out," replied the 
 clerk of St John's; "for Comyn's commands must be obeyed. 
 But I, in behalf of the holy brethren of our order, must tell
 
 VHE CROOKED COMYN. 283 
 
 thee, noble earl, that our prayers can be of little avail if 
 they are limited, in point of time, to the period of thy so- 
 journ on earth. Thy mausoleum must be lighted for ten 
 years with wax tapers, a thousand masses must be said for 
 thy soul, and a pilgrimage to the Holy Land must be per- 
 formed, ere we can hope to bring thee out of purgatory. If 
 thou leavest the liferent of thy earldom to Countess Mar- 
 garet the fee going to thy eldest brother as heir what is 
 to pay the monks of St John for all their labours, in thus 
 endeavouring to free thee from the pains of that temporary 
 place of punishment?" 
 
 "No purgatory can equal these pains, man," cried the 
 earl. " Thou shalt have my earldom this instant for one 
 hour's relief from this hell-fire." 
 
 " Why, good priest," said the lady, " canst thou thus talk 
 of worldly possessions to one in such agony? While I am 
 thus ministering to the body, it would better become thee 
 to minister to the soul, while it is still in its earthly taber- 
 nacle. I, his dear wife, asked for no liferent, and yet thou 
 requirest a mortification." 
 
 " It is for his own sake," said the priest, " that I have re- 
 commended the provision of the means for saving his soul. 
 We are not bees, to produce wax for tapers; nor birds of 
 paradise, to fly from hence to Jerusalem, and sit on the holy 
 shrine, without being fed as other birds; nor are we canon- 
 ised saints, requiring no meat nor drink. We must live, or 
 we cannot pray. Wilt thou, madam, give up a half of thy 
 liferent, to aid in the redemption of the soul thou lovest so 
 ardently?" 
 
 "Thou hast heard my lord's commands," rejoined the 
 lady. " I cannot allow my mind to be occupied at present 
 with thoughts of that contemptible trash thou callest gold. 
 What is all the earldom of the Comyns to the preservation 
 of the life of my dear husband ? Walter, dear Walter ! what 
 can be done for thee?"
 
 284 TALES OP THE BORDERS. 
 
 "The priest hath, already my commands," answered 
 the earl. " The parchment ! the parchment ! and 
 and water ! water ! " 
 
 " Hie thee away to thy work, good monk," cried the 
 lady. " There's no time for parley. Away. Thou seest 
 that I deny him not his request." 
 
 " Water costeth little," said the priest, with a smile of 
 suspicion, "and availeth little either to assuage these 
 pains or those of purgatory." 
 
 The priest retired, and in the course of an hour re- 
 turned, with the deed extended, and two witnesses at his 
 back. The paper was read. Comyn was still able to sign 
 it. He attached his name, and in a few minutes expired. 
 
 Thus died that remarkable man. A dark story now 
 arose in Scotland : Countess Margaret had encouraged a 
 criminal passion for the English baron, John Russel, 
 and was openly accused of having poisoned her husband, 
 by means of a posset of milk and sack, to make way for 
 her paramour, whom 1 she married with indecent haste. 
 Insulted and disgraced, she and her husband were thrown 
 into prison, despoiled of their estate, and compelled to 
 leave the kingdom. It was afterwards rumoured in 
 Scotland that she quarrelled with JRussell who ill-used 
 her, and stood in continual fear of being treated in the 
 same way as Comyn and, finally, drowned herself in 
 the river Thames. 
 
 END OF VOL. X.
 
 A 000 623 041 1