-~-> ^
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 RURAL RHYMES 
 
 AND 
 
 SKETCHES IN EAST LOTHIAN. 
 
 BY 
 
 SAMUEL MUCKLEBACKIT. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY TURNBULL & SPEARS.
 
 PR. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IT is with not a little diffidence and misgiving that I 
 send forth this volume a mere fragmentary selec- 
 tion, as it is, from Rhymes and Sketches, which I have 
 from time to time contributed to the press, under the 
 signatures, and in the assumed characters, of " Thomas 
 Pintail " and " Samuel Mucklebackit." For I am 
 well aware that the cordial reception most of the 
 pieces met with on their debut in their native locality, 
 may not prove to have been an earnest of their success 
 in the world at large. 
 
 But "the die is cast;" and whatever the fate of 
 this humble literary venture may be, I must now 
 await and accept it with what patience, and, if need 
 be, fortitude I may. I have nothing to advance in 
 the way of anticipating honest, or disarming hostile, 
 criticism. I desire to stand or fall by its merits or 
 demerits alone. I fain wish that all my patrons, 
 readers, and reviewers knew and would remember, 
 that the pieces contained in this volume, prose and 
 verse alike (with one exception), were produced in the 
 brief and often interrupted intervals of leisure which 
 the busy life of a small arable farmer lahourer, I 
 should rather say affords ; and that, in the first 
 instance, they were written only for amusement, and
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 subsequently sent to the press for merely temporary 
 purposes. That they have not been permitted to serve 
 those transitory ends and then fall into oblivion, is no 
 fault of mine. 
 
 But, indeed, if, in the long dreary " fore-nights " 
 and other odd times in the solitudes of the country, 
 these slight and rustic effusions should be found to 
 yield my late compeers the sons and daughters of 
 the soil a little desiderated entertainment of a 
 mental or an amusing character, then for this, if for 
 no other reason, I shall be heartily glad that my 
 Quondam lucubrations have been rescued from imme- 
 diate obscurity. 
 
 To all my friends and subscribers I desire herewith 
 to render my most sincere and heartfelt thanks. 
 Assuredly, if gratitude could profit them, they would 
 all be blessed indeed ! 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 EAST LOTHIAN, 
 
 October 1885.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 VERSE. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 East Lothian . . . . . . 1 
 
 Address to Traprain Law .... 1 
 
 Song " Auld London " .... 4 
 
 The Yowes and Lambs .... 5 
 
 The Hiring Friday . ... 6 
 
 Robert Burns ...... 8 
 
 The Flittin' Day . . . . .11 
 
 Song " The Broken Bank " . . 13 
 
 Professor Blackie on Confessions of Faith . . 15 
 
 Song " Far Awa " ..... 17 
 
 A Nook on Bonnie Tyneside . . . .18 
 
 The New and the Old Ways to Wealth . . in 
 
 " Wae, wae is me ! " ..... 21 
 
 Song " Little Lauchin' Jean "... 23 
 
 Our Church Vacancy ..... 24 
 
 In the Auld Kirkyaird o' Prestonkirk . .28 
 
 The Wee Brown Squirrel . . . .30 
 
 An Epistle to a Friend in America . . . 32 
 
 Second Epistle to a Friend in America . . 35 
 
 "Watty" . . . . . . 38 
 
 " The Foppish Young Farmer " . . .43 
 
 ' ' Ane Auld-Farrant Rame " . . . .46 
 
 " Auld Lees," A Rustic Philosopher . . 49 
 
 Fareweel . . . - . .54 
 
 The Agricultural Depression .... 56 
 
 Written on a Beautiful October Day ... 59 
 
 A Lament for Aiild Charlie .... 60 
 
 The Knox Memorial ..... 62 
 
 The Auld Toun ... .64 
 
 " Jamie the Joiter " 65
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAOF. 
 
 A Reply to " A Plea for Cremation " . 66 
 
 Morham Dell .... 69 
 
 On " Cremation " . 71 
 
 Jeanie's Fareweel ... 73 
 Wintry Wind .... 
 Adventures of John Hootsman at Gifford Fail- 
 By My Native Stream 
 The Fa' o' the Leaf 
 Tantallon 
 
 John Knox . . 
 
 The Legend of Traprain Law . 
 The Abbey Ghost .... 
 The Auld Farmer's Lament for the Wat Hairst 
 
 Song " The Bonnie Lad was Joe to Me " . 93 
 
 "Not Jordan" . ... 98 
 
 "Mither Caledon" ... .102 
 
 " The Battle of Banockburn " . . . 107 
 
 William Wallace . . . .110 
 
 Kyley Brown, the Deceiving Drover of Perth . 113 
 
 Johnny Kirk an' Me . . . .116 
 
 To Invent and Create . . . . .118 
 
 Lammerlaw .... . 124 
 
 The " Goblin Ha'" . 124 
 
 " Dookin' in Danscan " . .124 
 Nunraw Glen . 
 Umbrageous Biel , 
 
 Leaving Dunbar . .127 
 
 Tyninghame White Kirk . 128 
 
 Balgone . . .129 
 
 The Bass . 130 
 
 Langsyne ! 130 
 
 Nungate Brig . 140 
 
 Linton Linn . 141 
 
 The Auld Cascade . 143 
 
 Morham Glen . . . 145 
 
 " The Charteris Dykes " . 146 
 
 The Bonnie Tyne Valley . . 147 
 
 'Twas at the time when Damning Hairst . . 148 
 
 " Belhaven Races " ... 158 
 
 The Grand Stand . 161 
 
 Buith Hares and Rabbits, ! , , , ,180
 
 INDEX. 
 
 I'AGK 
 
 "Reciprocity" . . . 189 
 
 The Ploughman ..... 202 
 
 "A Maid's a Maid for a' that " . . . 210 
 
 Athie Graeme ...... 219 
 
 Jamie Woodlee ..... 224 
 
 Linton " Touii Characters '' .... 232 
 
 ' ' What ! Hootsman to be Married ! " . . 240 
 
 Ane Deevilish Prank of ye Wicked Eltin King . 255 
 
 PROSE. 
 
 Confessions of Faith . . . . .15 
 
 Our Church Vacancy ..... 24 
 
 Newfoundland Dogs ..... 38 
 
 Some Yoiing Farmers . . . .43 
 
 A Rustic Philosopher ..... 49 
 
 The Abbey . . . . . .88 
 
 Note Tranent Massacre .... 94 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM RURAL REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Prefatory Note ..... 95 
 
 The Boyhood of Mucklebackit ... 97 
 
 His Early Manhood . . . . .114 
 
 John Hootsman " Doing " the County in a Day . 118 
 Farming Langsyne ..... 130 
 Belhaven Races An old Hind's Holiday . . 148 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM " COUNTRY CHRONICLES." 
 
 Prologue, by the Author . . . .163 
 
 An Evening Party at Bunkum Hall . . 160 
 A " Kirsenin " ..... 190 
 
 Trapraiu Law Visited . . . . .211 
 
 A Tenant Farmer's Wedding-Preliminaries . 233 
 
 Ruefully Retrospective Rather ! . . . 240 
 
 A Rescue, a Reverse, and a Release . . . 248
 
 BUBAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 EAST LOTHIAN. 
 
 A THREE-FOLD picture moorland, plain, and sea 
 Behold our Lothian, limn'd so matchlessly ! 
 Her rocky isles and castellated shore 
 The blue waves fondling them for evermore ! 
 The white-wing'd ships, her sea-world couriers given, 
 Circling around her like the birds of heaven ! 
 Her heathy moors, a waving background grand ! 
 ])ark forests rolling to her happy strand ! 
 Soft-contour'd hills upspringing from her breast, 
 Where Labour struggles and is lull'd to rest ! 
 Crystalline streams sweet-babbling thro' her vales, 
 Like wandering maidens singing true love tales ! 
 Her fields, her plains, and, smoking far and near, 
 Her freemen's peasant homes to Peace and Virtue 
 dear ! 
 
 ADDKESS TO TEAPEAIN LAW. 
 
 HAIL ! venerable, ample, steadfast friend 
 Dear as a mother's form is thine to me, 
 
 So, as a child might, at thy foot I bend, 
 To pour this lay of filial love to thee. 
 A
 
 2 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Thou wast the wonder of mine infancy, 
 
 And tho' in youth afar I drifted hence, 
 Again thou art my sacred mount to he 
 
 Mine own Parnassus whose high grottoes whence 
 The mature Muse may sweep the Universe immense ! 
 
 For thou art as the pivot of my world, 
 
 All round thee circles that I love or know ; 
 Tho' to the utmost Cosmos thought were hurl'd 
 
 Back to this source and centre, here below, 
 Would it rebound tho' loathing to forego 
 
 The bootless chase of problems which old Time 
 Makes mockers of research life, death, and woe 
 
 The How and Why of Nature's wonders prime 
 The secret infinite the mystery sublime ! 
 
 To jaded, baffled bard, how calm, how sweet, 
 
 Are thy familiar and mute-mountain nooks ! 
 T press thy springy turf beueath my feet, 
 
 I breathe thy purer air which hold nor brooks 
 No element to feed the pain that books 
 
 Not Nature's breed by false imaginings ; 
 And all my morbid cares take wing, like rooks. 
 
 When sudden March-dawn on their beech-wood 
 
 springs, 
 And Boreas e'en is hushed with sough of clanging wings. 
 
 Then o'er the rounded field of thy grand dome, 
 
 And craggy glories of thy southern side, 
 With zest unwearied do I climb, and roam, 
 
 And revel in the spreading prospect wide, 
 Which, from far Ochils to the Northern tide, 
 
 And from green Lammermoor to Grampians grey 
 Affords one landscape : seen in summer's pride 
 
 Might well ev'n Dryasdust himself betray 
 Beyond his highest flight lugubrious " Lack-a-day ! '' 
 
 For what unutterable beauty 's given, 
 
 And spread to man o'er this his natal sphere ; 
 
 And if this is but earth, what will be heaven, 
 Tho' sure its sheen's anticipated here !
 
 ADDRESS TO TRAPRAIN LAW. 3 
 
 Its gates stand all ajar, and thro' them clear 
 
 A beam celestial streams athwart our strand, 
 Flooding each valley, moorland, plain, and mere, 
 Up to the mountain tips, with mantling grand, 
 Till rare old Scotia 's dight like the Enchanted Land ! 
 
 Hither and thither o'er the green expanse, 
 
 Sprinkled with homesteads as thy slopes with 
 
 flocks 
 Gleaming and glistening in June's radiance, 
 
 The raptured breezes flit in fragrant shocks, 
 And sing like children 'mong thy rifted rocks 
 
 Where I sit musing, blessing Heaven the while, 
 That such a land no malison provokes, 
 
 Or lawless anarchy, or slav'ry vile, 
 But 'tis of Freedom true the law-ruled home and isle. 
 
 Around thy swelling base and beetling crags 
 
 No more, Dumpender ! whirls the rout of war ! 
 Where oft have flouted pitted legion's flags, 
 
 Now the green tree and "milk-white hawthorn"are 
 Seen waving in this summer peace afar ; 
 
 And for the blaring trump and deaf'ning gong 
 And shouted slogans of fell foes at jar 
 
 Are heard the low of herds and ploughboy's song, 
 And that poean of Art the rail-god's whistle strong ! 
 
 Ah ! many a change of varying Might, I ween, 
 
 Hath swept thy ken alternate rest and throe 
 Since thou emerged, nude-born, upon the scene, 
 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand years ago. 
 Immortal Hill ! The years that man doth know 
 
 A century fall and affect thee yet 
 Ev'n less than one light, melting flake of snow 
 
 Doth his most lasting hand-work waste and fret, 
 His vaunted "Pyramids" Time's laughter and regret! 
 
 Before the Deluge universal swept, 
 
 O'er thee the ages as a pall were hung, 
 
 'Neath whose dark folds remote thy dead youth 
 
 slept ; 
 Eras ere yet Troy was by Homer sung ;
 
 4 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Eras before Old Noah was young ; 
 
 Eras ere ever from thy flinty grasp 
 The first rude axe by early man was wrung, 
 
 And fashion'd with laborious chip and rasp, 
 In search of food or foe his trusty friend to clasp. 
 
 And as thy semblance now, so in past time, 
 
 Thou must have look'd and filled that concave sky. 
 Bending all round thee its old arch sublime 
 
 Summer's and winter's one fit canopy ! 
 With all thy brethren round thee far and nigh 
 
 Edina's Crags, Inchkeith, sea-level May, 
 Bass, Berwick, Doon Hill, and the Lammer high ; 
 
 Gullane and Garleton, and far away, 
 Old Scotia's cloud-like seats the " Bens " and Gram- 
 pians grey. 
 
 Thus ever 'midst our Lothian garden set 
 
 A rear thy cairn -top'd cupola for aye ; 
 Colossal dome ! no nakedness regret ! 
 
 Thy massive splendour needs no trickery gay ! 
 A mountain and a monitor alway, 
 
 As palpable to dullest thought as sight ; 
 Teach thou the hordes of men that fleet away 
 
 The lesson of thy time-enduring might 
 Thy pledge of glorious hope to him who reads aright. 
 
 SONG OLD LOUDON. 
 
 FRAE Lammer hills tae whare the sea 
 
 Straiks up to Einb'ro' toun, 
 Frae Pentland in the hazy west, 
 
 And east to hill o' Doun, 
 There 's nae a neuk o' a' the land 
 
 Sae bonny to_the e'e ; 
 There 's nae a neuk o' dear Scotland 
 
 Sae dear 's this neuk to me.
 
 YE YOWES AN' LAMBS. 
 
 Sae dear 's this neuk to me, my luve, 
 Sae dear 's this neuk to me, 
 
 There 's nae a neuk o' auld Scotland 
 Sae dear 's this neuk to me. 
 
 In ither lands, wi' weary foot, 
 
 Lang, thankless raids we ran ; 
 But hame again, an' canty yet, 
 We'll end whare we began ! 
 Auld Loudon, bonnie Loudon, luve, 
 
 Atween the hills an' sea ! 
 O, there 's nae spot, the warld o'er, 
 Sae dear to you an' me ! 
 
 Sae dear to you an' me, sweet Jean, 
 
 Sae dear to you an' me, 
 Nae spot ava, we ever saw, 
 Sae dear to you an' me ! 
 
 YE YOWES AN' LAMBS. 
 
 TENTIN' his flocks wi' care on his brow, 
 
 Auld Sam Mucklebackit, rough an' grey, 
 Retired from the world to a beil' sunny knowe, 
 Blink in' an' winkin', sits a' day : 
 Croonin' an' moonin', 
 Moonin' an' croonin' 
 "Jowler, tak' the red tod my bonnie lambs wad slay!" 
 
 Up i' the howe o' the April sky, 
 
 A' the day the laverocks sing tae Sam ; 
 In an' oot the hedges the little birds shy, 
 Forrit tae his vera taes creeps a wee lamb ! 
 Bleatin' an' greetin', 
 Greetin' an' bleatin', 
 Seekin', the silly thing, its ain yowe dam. 
 
 Ilk' yowe surely has lambs twa or three, 
 
 See them down the hedge sides fifty in a band !
 
 6 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Itacin', an' chasin', and friskin' ower the lea, 
 Sorrow's sel' couldna such a sicht withstand ! 
 Such runnin' and racin', 
 Such funnin' and chasin' 
 
 Ilka lamb as glorious as a prince o' the land ! 
 
 Some werena lucky, but ye gat through 
 
 Melancholy Mucklebackit weel we ken 
 Ye'd ne'er a deid yowe, an' lambs but few, 
 Just a pair still born at the hinner en'. 
 Puir dwarfed last anes, 
 Wee, deid, cast anes 
 " Born before their ages," like sae mony men ! 
 
 THE HIRING FRIDAY. 
 (LINKS WRITTEN AFTER COMING FROM THE MARKET). 
 
 As business call'd, I gaed tae toun, 
 
 An' braved the hiring warsle ; 
 So thae "impressions" I note doun 
 
 0' the great human hirsel. 
 Morosely, by a glowing fire, 
 
 I retrospect the babble : 
 Yet scorn my soon-suppressed desire 
 
 To execrate the " rabble." 
 
 For while humanity is dust, 
 
 And man a vagrant creatur' 
 Whase aft daft antics bring disgust 
 
 Your sagely meditator ; 
 He is not all he seems to be 
 
 In holiday careering ; 
 Aft thro' the scum of foamy sea, 
 
 The pearly treasure 's peering ! 
 
 Where ignorance and folly meet 
 Wi' youthfu^glee to prompt them, 
 
 What if vulgarity should greet, 
 
 An' her dear children compt them ?
 
 THE HIRING FR2DA Y. 
 
 The boorish speech, the gait, the leer, 
 
 An' mind a blank we pity, 
 Yet what ye lack God's truth is here, 
 
 Ye shams in toun or city ! 
 
 Here simple human nature shaws, 
 
 All unsophisticated ; 
 Unknown, unheeding fashion's laws 
 
 Her yearning heart unsated ! 
 That one heart, worn on rustic sleeves 
 
 This day for knaves to peck at, 
 Is Adam's still and joys and grieves 
 
 Or plush or purple deck it ! 
 
 Still, cross'd was I oor manlike " hinds " 
 
 To see them fool'd an' cheated, 
 By gallows scamps, wi' tricks an' blinds, 
 
 A school miss might defeated ! 
 By riff-raff rogues, whase victims were, 
 
 In a' that decks the wearer, 
 To such tag knaves as Tyneside air 
 
 To Cowgate reek superior ! 
 
 But drunts aside ; the " ither facts," 
 
 Let us a moment scan them 
 Behold auld Scotland's buirdly backs, 
 
 An' shanks that shaw men awn them .' 
 " Beloved at hame revered abroad ! " 
 
 The " wall of fire " around her ! 
 The arm with whilk she cuts her road 
 
 When thick faes would confound her ; 
 
 An' lassies, sweet ! as lads are stoure ! 
 
 Braw cockernonied leddies ! 
 Show faces that wad papists sour, 
 
 Mak' benedicts an' daddies ! 
 Nae prim-faced, dwarfish, dolly jades 
 
 That cankert guidmen bothers, 
 But, " plump an strapin'," stately maids 
 
 Proud Scotland's future mothers.
 
 8 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. 
 
 ON HIS ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 OH, Muse of Caledon ! with fervid wing, 
 
 From the blue hills thou mak'st thy sacred seat, 
 
 With mountain cataract ajid cliff interned, 
 
 To our stream'd valley in a strath lowland 
 
 Descend ! and, in just strains, thy minstrel true, 
 
 This day his day to us the day of days, 
 
 Commemorative of him evermore, 
 
 Teach me, child-like, to sing ! O'er heirs of fame 
 
 Of ours above philosophers, or they 
 
 Whose martial story or historic page 
 
 Or song confounds decay his laurel'd head, 
 
 Spiring the groups of Scotia's giant sons, 
 
 Towers like a king's. No longer scowling brow'd, 
 
 I see him o'er his empire sweep his eye ; 
 
 The master of the fields of song beloved, 
 
 Sowing and reaping joy ! No truer eye 
 
 E'er peep'd, like lover, into Nature's face 
 
 So sympathetic with the love of her 
 
 He grew upon her, and her breath was his, 
 
 His, hers them both a melody, 
 
 Wedding their two souls one ! " Sweet Bal- 
 
 lochmyle ! " 
 
 The dew-eyed spirit of a summer's eve, 
 Tender and loving as the face of pity, 
 In one small song ! Then, as we turn the page, 
 And reading " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled ! " 
 A blast, as of Mar's thunder, wakes the heart, 
 And the most peace-wed souls, with sudden fire, 
 Blaze with heroic ire and martial eye 
 As patriots arni'd ! " Should Auld Acquaintance 
 Be forgot ? " Never ! Thou hast made it sure 
 It never can ! that query is a spell 
 To sprite the queriest's. name from age to age 
 To the fag end of time; and, being there, 
 To charm time back again ! Turn me the leaves :
 
 R OBER T B URNS. 9 
 
 Not one of which but glows with Nature's light 
 
 As sweet as autumn eves, when harvest's moon 
 
 Keeps watch the golden field, and overhead 
 
 The plover's cry is heard ! Here's an old friend 
 
 " A man's a man for a' that ! " So he is 
 
 But many a man was scarce a man before 
 
 Ye breach'd his mind and let the knowledge in 
 
 That makes him so ; given assurance true 
 
 Of the grand fact a man he surely was 
 
 He one became. Mayhaps, a slave before, 
 
 Or cringing yokel to exacting " lord ; " 
 
 With cap in hand, and fearful downcast eye, 
 
 Mumbling the enforced homage abjectly; 
 
 His soul as darksome as his gait confess'd ; 
 
 The immortal mandate " a man 's a man, 
 
 The rank is but the guinea stamp, the man's 
 
 The gowd for a' that ! " charged, as with Heaven's 
 
 fire, 
 
 Lit up his darkness, as the levin bolt 
 Night's murky gulf, and let him see the ground 
 Whereon, they both stood was the equal earth 
 The earth, nor less, nor more ! Henceforth, to both 
 All life was changed ; the lordling doffed his pride, 
 Forgot his " strut " : the serf, a serf no more ! 
 Shoulder to shoulder, stood up with the port 
 And modest dignity that graces man, 
 The bluest princeling's peer ! 
 
 But, to resume : 
 "Highland Mary!" -"Ye banks an' braes!" "Tarn 
 
 Glen ! " 
 
 Each one of these, and eke a hundred more 
 All matchless Scotia doth hold dear, and sings 
 Them to all peoples of the wondering lands, 
 Who drink their rapture from her dulcet lips 
 With charm'd and greedy ears, till they, entranced, 
 Grow dead to every care of all the world 
 Than her harmonious woe ! In many a clime, 
 In many a land of many-corner'd earth, 
 In Indian jungles and Columbian wastes, 
 In Afric arids and mysterious wilds,
 
 io RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Islands, like Edens, in the purple seas, 
 Pacific, and Australian worlds, 
 The wondrous opposites and heirs of ours, 
 As well King Winter's realms the homes of Frost- 
 Hudson's and Lapland these old songs of Burns, 
 Like veriest wizards in the human heart, 
 Have conjured with the weary exile's tears ; 
 And, in the sighs of longing wanderers, 
 Bewitched impossibles to patent facts ; 
 And o'er the/rera and foreign continents 
 Made misty Scotland, with her hills, arise 
 To fondest memory true ! There is a gem 
 A talisman in two brief verses ! which, 
 Many a dreary hour in Far West scenes 
 The forests and primeval solitudes 
 Of the wolf-Indian, and rude " pioneer," 
 Hath, like a mother's voice, soothed me to peace, 
 And pillow'd, in the awe-some wilderness, 
 My home-sick troubled heart, and made me love, 
 Like hers, the name of Burns ! 
 The Poems now. To me to every Scot 
 Whose unsophisticated breast is proof 
 To ward aside the testy showers of cant, 
 Like April rain, these Scottish poems are 
 (" Familiar in our mouths as household words ") 
 Sources of richest, many kindred, joys ; 
 Fountains of never-failing glorious mirth, 
 With humour spurting to the gravest verge ; 
 Repositories rare of Fancy's spoils, 
 Which she, when raiding with her Scottish Knight, 
 Carried from Dreamland's territories bright, 
 Where Beauty, absolute, sits Queen of Art 
 And universal song ! Here we behold 
 Fruit mellow as the tree whereon it grew : 
 Angelic tenderness and satire keen ; 
 Piercing sagacity and wisdom sage ; 
 A sword of wit, with which this David slew 
 The giants humbug and hypocrisy ; 
 A laverock -throated bird of sentiment, 
 That, singing, makes our hodden-grey Scotch sky,
 
 THE FLITTIN' DAY. 
 
 Beyond the radius of semi-earth, 
 Glint with the harmonies of inspired thought 
 And raptured feeling as the glamoury dome 
 Of Poesy's own Fane ! 
 
 And here we meet 
 Description in her simple robes of truth, 
 Sweet nurse and ruler of the Poet's art, 
 Leading in either hand, through all his works, 
 The seen and the ideal sisters twain 
 Up to perfection's feet ! For all do feel, 
 Who read both Nature's and the poet's books 
 The fact of Nature cannot clearer prove 
 That she is Nature, than the page of Burns 
 Her faithful bard attests ! Graved with his pen, 
 Her happy lineaments pluck from our eyes 
 Amazed conviction, with the infant view 
 Which recognises them ! and as we read, 
 The heart, without our leave, corroborates 
 The vision's verdict, and the judge-like mind. 
 
 THE FLITTIN' DAY. 
 
 As sweet May morn, when blabs o' dew 
 
 At bud an' blade were hingin', 
 An' larks, to hail the dawn anew, 
 
 Speel'd up the lift a'-singin' ; 
 'Twas then that I, my Peg to try, 
 
 Slipt doun the old green loaning, 
 To ane dear nook, beside the brook, 
 
 Whaur sune I fell a-moaning ! 
 
 A rumblin' like a yirthquake sheuk 
 
 My simmer morning bourie ! 
 Sae I ran out, an' lap the brook, 
 
 To see what was the stourie : 
 Alack, alack ! I stagger'd back, 
 
 My bardie wrath forgettin' 
 To learn its cause was cairts in raws, 
 
 Wi' scores of puir fowks " flittin' ! "
 
 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 On every road the heapit teams 
 
 Swung hameward rockin', noddin' ; 
 The household gods portentous gleams 
 
 Of instant wreck forebodin' ! 
 But ropes an' strae made gude that day 
 
 To haud in coalition, 
 Clocks, cradles, stools, beds, tikes, an' dails, 
 
 Secure despite position. 
 
 A-tap the cairt-loads, wives an' weans, 
 
 Crouch'd eerie an' dumbfoun'ert ; 
 I wat, weel sheuken were their banes, 
 
 An' sair was mony a lone heart. 
 The grave, gudeman, the " coo" in hand, 
 
 Cam' soberly an' hinmaist ; 
 But aft, alack ! nae crummie's back, 
 
 As in past time was seen muist ! 
 
 But what by ord'nar' looked to ane 
 
 That siccan scenes has view'd aft, 
 Was the new modes in plenishin' 
 
 Clocks, knick-nacks, grates, an' wood-craft ; 
 Eed polish gleam'd, veneerin' seeni'd 
 
 The real mahogany that day ! 
 An' easy chairs, an' sofa lairs, 
 
 Tauld plainly how the cat lay ! 
 
 The lads hail clad, the lassies braw, 
 
 An' deil o' either sickly ; 
 My saul waxed proud to see them a' 
 
 0' little drunts ne'er stickly. 
 A sturdier class will seldom pass 
 
 Your traveller's view the same day, 
 Pith, body, sense, intelligence, 
 
 And pluck ne'er lag nor lamely! 
 
 And seeing this, 'twere hard to tell, 
 Why should to a' this " flittin' ; " 
 
 Sae straucht I speir'd the hinds themseF ; 
 Quoth they, as they'd been bitten,
 
 THE FLITTIN' DAY. 13 
 
 "Ye silly gowk ! we farm fowk, 
 
 Do flit because we maun do't ; 
 Some fyke was wrang we boud to gang 
 
 And hence we shift to mend it ! " 
 
 I answer'd, sadly, to mysel', 
 
 Ye are the silliest gawkies, 
 To rive auld hames, 'niang frem to mell, 
 
 For sic wheen triflin' mawkies ! 
 D'ye think, quo' I, that heaven ye'll try 
 
 When ance ye win the "new place " \ 
 My lads, before, there's ill in store, 
 
 And all unknown 's its true face ! 
 
 Out o' the pan, intil the fire, 
 
 May ablins no be fittin'; 
 But waur at ance, 'gainst your desire, 
 
 May be the wage o' " flittin ! " 
 What then, what then ? again, again, 
 
 Ye flit, ye flit like Show-Jack ; 
 Till, some slee day, Death ca's to say 
 
 " Your final flittin' now mak' ! " 
 
 An' musing thus, I daunder'd hame, 
 
 Kicht proud I wasna' " flittin' ; " 
 Haith ! Sam's run plenty in his time 
 
 To prize a cosh dounsittin' ! 
 Auld Clover Eiggs ! thy cleuchs an' craigs, 
 
 Green haughs an' winding river ! 
 As fixed as thy castle wa's 
 
 Be Sam to thee forever ! 
 
 SONG* THE BKOKEN BANK. 
 
 AIR " The Standard on the Braes o' Mar." 
 
 WAUR than auld times, when deidly weir 
 Made Caledon blude sairly, 
 
 * This song was written to be sung at a Public Concert 
 which was to have been held in aid of the sufferers by the 
 collapse of the City of Glasijow Bank.
 
 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 This last sad fleg is like, I fear, 
 
 To break her auld heart fairly ; 
 Ane waesome soun's in a' her touns, 
 
 An' hill an' dale, wi' bitter wail, 
 Tell that the blow has e'en brought low, 
 
 The land that prosper'd rarely ! 
 
 As on Fa'kirk an' Flodden fiel's 
 
 She lost thro' treason merely, 
 Sae now she fa's by fause-loon chiels, 
 
 Betrayed dishonour'd clearly ! 
 An' thro' her bounds, this cry resounds : 
 
 Wae worth their name that wrought such shame, 
 An' aim'd the blow, that brought sae low, 
 
 The land we lo'e right dearly ! 
 
 But while thae traitor knaves their meed 
 
 In durance wait securely, 
 O wha her stricken deer will heed 
 
 The wreck'd an' ruin'd surely ? 
 Will nae strong hand, for auld Scotland, 
 
 Be sheuken out, and raze the blot 
 That wad defame her matchless name, 
 
 An' re'ive her honour purely ? 
 
 Behin' Fa'kirk cam Bannockburn ! 
 
 We paid back Flodden dearly ! 
 Sae noble plenty may return, 
 
 Whaur poortith pinches sairly ! 
 Let each true Scot, in ha' an' cot, 
 
 Grip hand in hand a dauntless band ; 
 Wi' word an' deed, to serve in need, 
 
 The land they lo'e sincerely ! 
 
 Then wae an' want, a lang fareweel, 
 
 An' routhie times come early ; 
 Fareweel, deil greed, for aye, fareweel 
 
 Leal Scotland fits thee puirly ! 
 An' hail again thou goodly train 
 
 Stern worth an' truth, an' love an' ruth, 
 That raised sae high, in days gone by, 
 
 The land we lo'e sae dearly !
 
 LARKS AND LIBERTY. 15 
 
 PROFESSOR BLACKIE ON CONFESSIONS 
 OF FAITH. 
 
 UNDER this heading there appeared some very clever 
 lines by the late possessor of the Greek Chair in the 
 University of Edinburgh. Notwithstanding, I do not 
 agree with the author upon the subject so deftly and 
 neatly, so humorously and fancifully, disposed of in 
 them to wit, the " mooring " and dry-docking, stem 
 and stern, of the intellectual life and theological beliefs 
 of Christian ministers in this advanced age, to a fal- 
 lible document propounded and drawn up by a body 
 of fallible and comparatively ignorant men upwards of 
 two centuries ago. Hence my answer to " Creeds and 
 Canaries " in the rhyme affixed. Should it meet the 
 eye of the Professor at whose feet, in most things, I 
 would consider myself honoured by permission to pose, 
 in respectful and submissive admiration I trust that, 
 with that large-heartedness and liberal-mindedness for 
 which he is no less famous than for his profound 
 scholarship, or his oratorical and poetical genius, he 
 will pardon the clumsy presumption of an unlettered 
 rustic like " Sam," for daring to enter the lists against 
 him in the poetic arena in which for years the Pro- 
 fessor has figured as a demi-god, and done the doughty 
 deeds of a far renowned champion ! 
 
 LARKS AND LIBERTY. 
 
 I HAD a little laverock bird 
 
 Whose doleful song was scarcely heard 
 
 The gilded cage beyond it ; 
 All day it leapt from perch to perch 
 As if for freedom sweet in search ! 
 Day after day again, again 
 It tried and tried, but all in vain 
 
 It's jail securely bound it !
 
 1 6 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 One morn, the glorious summer sun, 
 To gladden nature wide, begun. 
 
 His upward march thro" Heaven ; 
 In love and joyous liberty 
 The larks, like Blackies, sang on high ; 
 " Poor bird ! " I said, and op'ed the door, 
 " Come out and join the merry core 
 
 Come out, release is given ! " 
 
 Down from the topmost spar it leapt, 
 Whisk ! thro' the door ajar it swept 
 
 As hawk-death were behind it ! 
 Then up the sparkling morning air 
 Up, up it mounted, singing rare, 
 In grateful raptures and elate, 
 A lay to Freedom consecrate, 
 
 That now no cage did bind it ! 
 
 " If birds are wise, men are not fools ! " 
 For they, too, hate their narrow rules 
 
 And old dogmatic cages ! 
 " And should you wish to make them free, 
 Just ope the door and you will see " 
 How all agog, with plumed wing, 
 They ready are to soar and sing 
 
 With Truth's own barbs and sages ! 
 
 " The lawyer and the grave D.D.," 
 Whom sect-dividing enmity 
 
 In life-long strife engages, 
 Might then fling to the winds their "creeds,' 
 And cease to fight for sects and breeds, 
 And 'gin to preach and practise free 
 At last, True Christianity, 
 
 Which knows no " gilded cages ! "
 
 SONG " FAR AWA'." 17 
 
 SONG" FAR AW A'." 
 
 WRITTEN BY BEQUEST FOB THE GLASGOW HADDINGTON- 
 SHIRE ASSOCIATION, FOR THEIR ANNUAL FESTIVAL, 
 DECEMBER 1875. 
 
 YE banded friends for noble aims, 
 
 Wha kythe the kindly London face ! 
 Compatriots St Mungo names, 
 
 The wale o' Scotia's waly race ! 
 Far wander'd frae the native place 
 
 Atween the sea an' Laramerlaw, 
 This nicht in fancy we'll retrace 
 
 The dear calf-yird that 's far awa' ! 
 
 By castled and cathedral'd Tyne 
 
 - .In gratefu' thought we'll backward stray, 
 
 Where Knox immortal sprung lang syne ! 
 
 An' our Dalrymple hath his sway ! 
 Where erst we sped life's early day, 
 
 An' pu'd the mellow hip and haw, 
 By mony a shaw an' breezy brae, 
 
 In bonny London far awa' ! 
 
 Dalrymple ! honoured, revered name, 
 
 Where'er a patriot Scot prevails ! 
 Wi' growing ardour ward thy fame 
 
 Romantic, Tyne-trothed, castled Hailes ! 
 Around her cling Queen Mary tales, 
 
 Like ivy round her ruin'd wa' 
 Still greener aye as time assails 
 
 Her towers an' turrets far awa' ! 
 
 Atween Tantallon on the shore 
 
 An' far lone Soutra on the niuir, 
 To deeds heroic aft of yore 
 
 Oor Scotian fathers kindled there ; 
 
 B
 
 1 8 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 And tho' a\ild Noll did fool us sair 
 At Hill o' Doon, through Leslie's flaw 
 
 At Prestonpans we made it square, 
 
 Where, like fley'd sheep, they ran awa' ! 
 
 Traprain, the Bass, Pressmennan Loch, 
 
 The Garletons an' Gullane hie, 
 Frae W ally ford to Auldhamstock, 
 
 Landmark our matchless auld countrie ! 
 And, worthy such a land to be, 
 
 The Loudon lads and lassies a' 
 In fame an' honours tap the tree, 
 
 And lead the race, tho' far awa' ! 
 
 The pearl an' pride o' Scottish shires, 
 
 We'll roose auld Loudon till we dee ! 
 The trusty sons of trusty sires, 
 
 Bright honour shall oor device be ! 
 And love fraternal, true an' free, 
 
 Shall closer still an' closer draw 
 Despite how rank or place decree 
 
 The Loudon laddies far awa' ! 
 
 A NOOK ON BONNIE TYNESIDE. 
 
 THERE is a nook on Tyneside, 
 A little, bield, bonnie nook, 
 
 That aye tae me, the warld wide, 
 Is dearer than ony nook ; 
 
 Aroond it tangling woodbine, 
 
 Green ivy an' eglantine, 
 
 Wi' birks, tae mak' a bower, twine, 
 An' be love's ain nook ! 
 
 That nook on bonny Tyneside, 
 That secret nook I ken weel ; 
 
 Oh ! never wi' as fond tide 
 Did river roond a shore swiel
 
 THE NEW AND OLD WA YS TO " WEALTH." 19 
 
 Saft murmurings are stirr'd there, 
 Sweet is the music heard there, 
 Rare sings the mavis bird there, 
 Gloaming's fa' tae peal ! 
 
 Enfauld that nook on Tyneside, 
 
 Bright spirit powers, evermair ! 
 Oh ! ward that nook on Tyneside 
 Wi' ne'er-ending love an' care ! 
 Within its shade we parted, 
 When love was sudden thwarted, 
 By fell death, sae stane-hearted, 
 E'en Jean, he'dna spare ! 
 
 THE NEW AND THE OLD WAYS TO 
 " WEALTH." 
 
 (BEING A REPLY TO A LETTER FROM A YOUNG 
 COMMERCIAL FRIEND.) 
 
 THOU writ'st me, Jack, o' thy intent 
 
 To " win an independence," 
 An' pray'st, wi' " advice," I anent 
 
 Thy purpose dance attendance : 
 For " Auld Langsyne," see Samuel, then, 
 
 As thy fond love beseeches, 
 Clank doun, an' point wi' ready pen 
 
 The shortest cut to riches ! 
 
 Begin wi' slichtin' ilka friend 
 
 A cast aneth thy " station," 
 Frae poortith's neives thy kids defend 
 
 As ruinous degradation ! 
 An' every " chum," though true an' staunch, 
 
 Gin thou in gear o'ermatch him, 
 Straight from thy favour root an' branch 
 
 Withoot a tear detach him !
 
 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 To add ane boddle to the hoard 
 
 (That " privilege independent ! ") 
 Ne'er grudge to truckle to a lord 
 
 As low as he's transcendent ! 
 Obsequious, court the monied loons, 
 
 Lip-worship and adore them 
 Wi' statis't flatt'ry busk their croons, 
 
 An' flower the ground afore them ! 
 
 Peer oot, wi' keen politic e'e, 
 
 The a la mode iucomin' ; 
 So shall thy Protean morals be 
 
 Found meet when 'Change shall summon 
 Like full-blawn ship, tak', then, the seas, 
 
 Prank' t in the blaze o' fashion ; 
 An' tack to ev'ry blast an' breeze 
 
 Of " nobby " vice an' passion ! 
 
 A free, accepted, favour'd son, 
 
 An' weel-graced bairn o' Mammon, 
 What thou despise thou needna shun, 
 
 Nor what see'st fause ca' gammon. 
 Thine ain belief, lockt in thy heart, 
 
 Do resolutely fate it, 
 Absolve thy soul the good man's part, 
 
 Tho' heaven desiderate it ! 
 
 To circumvent, or even draw 
 
 To ruin, the unwary 
 Be bold ne'er fear thy country's law, 
 
 Gif thousands are the quarry ! 
 Dodge, plot an' shuffle, wind an' wheel, 
 
 Work auld an' new pretences ; 
 Just thou succeed ootshame the de'il 
 
 Success a sure defence is ! 
 * * * * * 
 
 Thus Moderns Mammon's hichts aft cliui' 
 Post on vile crjme they sprawl up, 
 
 Auld wisdom's yoke 's owre lag o' limb 
 Thae geniuses to haul up !
 
 "WAS, WAE IS ME!" 
 
 They maun mak' spangs at sudden loedtth, 
 Abjure as " loss " ways thrifty ; 
 
 Be millionaires by storm or stealth, 
 Or fled bankrupts at fifty ! 
 
 An' gin the envied guerdon 's won 
 
 Alas, thou lord d nature / 
 " Self-made " art thou \ Ah ! self-undone- 
 
 One moment scan the creature : 
 Lo ! prematurely auld an' spent, 
 
 " A conscience but a canker ! " 
 In " independent " discontent, 
 
 The Knave finds sorry " anchor ! " 
 
 Dear Jack, deep ponder this a wee 
 
 The "self-made" rogue's repletion; 
 Then, sure, thine after aim shall be 
 
 A nobler far ambition ! 
 For competence the brave will fight, 
 
 Nor worlds in arms debar 'em ; 
 But, want or wealth, they follow right, 
 
 Tho' yawning death would scaur 'em. 
 
 Adieu ! I shun that higher ground 
 
 Where best I might exhort thee ; 
 But holy themes let priests expound, 
 
 Sam's rhymes they 'd ill comport wi'. 
 Go on an' prosper to the end, 
 
 Auld honour put thy trust in ! 
 Heed not what meed this world send, 
 
 Heaven metes at last the just ane / 
 
 " WAE, WAE IS ME ! " 
 
 AN OWRB TRUE TALE. 
 
 IN my lone little cot in the suburb o' the toun, 
 Musing to the music o' the wind's eerie soun' 
 Brooding in a strange land on a' me an' mine, 
 How a' my joys hae fled wi' the days o' Lang Syne.
 
 22 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 To think I ance was queen o' my ain faither's hame, 
 A bright lauchin lassie nae care wad tame ; 
 When Willie, dear, he woo'd me, an' won me for to part 
 Wi' the dear auld place an' that auld faither's heart. 
 
 0, shame befa' the fause friends that wiled Willie on 
 Frae his tireside and his Mary to their haunts about 
 
 the toun ; 
 
 Sae happy for a year were Willie, dear, an' me 
 0, that awfu', awfu' drink, that such a thing can be. 
 
 For a' things prospered then, an' our little tot was born, 
 
 An' Willie was sae proud that birthday morn ; 
 
 Noo they baith sleep side by side so dear, so dear to 
 
 me 
 In that strange kirkyard in this strange countrie. 
 
 A gloom fell owre the hame when Willie jee'd awa', 
 No mony nichts a week at first but ane or twa ; 
 But aye it deepened deeper the storm he wadna see, 
 For the world was a' against him, an' he was changed 
 to me. 
 
 0, waefu' was the douncome, waefu' was the fa' : 
 Credit lost a bankrupt said oot house an' ha 
 Despair disease the mad-house, and onward wi' the 
 
 wave, 
 Till the shatter'd wreck was sunken in a lowly pauper's 
 
 grave. 
 
 0, my heart is like to break, my Willie, dear, to me, 
 An' wee Jamie, too, what gar'd my laddie dee ; 
 What gar'd my darling dee, when I only had but ane ? 
 0, Willie, Willie, Willie, we've pay'd the wage o' sin. 
 
 Noo to think that a' around me is blooming in the 
 
 May, 
 The green fields gettin' greener wi' the lengthenin' o' 
 
 the day ; 
 
 The very birds so happy wi' their loves in ilka tree, 
 While lonely I maun wail 0, wae, wae is me.
 
 SONG LITTLE LA UCHIN' JEAN. 23 
 
 The sun is in the far west enthroned on glowing gold, 
 My heart is wi' my dear ones in the kirkyard cold ; 
 When morning breaks so brightly o'er wood an" flowery 
 
 lea, 
 It will break upon me wailing wae, wae is me. 
 
 SONG LITTLE LAUCHIN' JEAN. 
 
 THRO' stookit fields o' yellow corn 
 
 I held me to my dearie, 
 But dowie thochts, an' dool forlorn, 
 
 Made my heart wae and wearie. 
 I watna hoo this care had come 
 
 Maybe 'twas Autumn's sheen ; 
 But weel I wat what cleared the gloom 
 
 My little lauchin' Jean ! 
 
 The gentle, merry, lo'esome lass 
 
 Was waitin' by the stile, 
 But crooch'd ahint a whinny bus', 
 
 To teaze me wi' her wile ! 
 Thocht I, " What's up 1 nae lassie here ? 
 
 She promised, too, yestreen " 
 When skirl on skirl brak' on my ear 
 
 Frae little lauchin' Jean ! 
 
 Sour dool forsook me there at ance, 
 
 I stude 'maist gyte wi' joy, 
 An' join'd her mirth as if by chance 
 
 Prood victim o' her ploy ! 
 warld ! what bliss was mine in turn 
 
 That heaven-like harvest e'en, 
 Amang the stooks o' gowden corn 
 
 Wi' little lauchin' Jean ! 
 
 Her wee saft loof enclasped my arm, 
 
 Her e'e look'd up to mine ; 
 We neither trow'd nor minded harm 
 
 Leal love is true an' kin' !
 
 24 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 An' never mair ae fit o' care 
 That nicht daur'd intervene ; 
 
 My only smart was wae to part 
 Wi' little lauchin' Jean ! 
 
 OUR CHURCH VACANCY. 
 
 HAVING forwarded, per agreement, to my old and 
 renowned friend, Mr Mucklebackit, of Clover Riggs, a 
 small note, containing a list of the committee elected 
 by our congregation, to choose and submit for approval 
 of said congregation, one or more of the applicants for 
 the pastorship of our parish, I was not a whit surprised 
 when I received the other morning, by post, the 
 annexed curious poem on the occasion. 
 
 Having known Sam since he was a " toddlin' wee 
 thing," and having been for some time his teacher, it 
 is long since I prophesied, in my humble way, that 
 " he wad either mak' a spune or spoil a horn ; " and 
 no one, I can assure you, can be more proud than I 
 am that the " spune" is being, even now, so well and 
 dexterously fashioned ! Let him go on as he has 
 begun, say I, and his reward is certain ! With regard 
 to the off-hand, and perhaps too carelessly, written 
 verses affixed to this letter of course, they must not 
 be considered, as a whole, over-seriously as the 
 jocular or satirical mood seems to have been riding 
 somewhat recklessly the poet's fancy during the period 
 of their production. But, despite this, I humbly 
 submit them to the notice of my numerous readers as 
 worthy of the closest perusal and attention. Rather 
 the more do I so, as at present we have in the county, 
 besides our own, two or three other establishment 
 vacancies ; and no doubt, to all these vacant and un- 
 fortunate parishes, and their several congregational 
 " comytees," the verses will prove most helpful and 
 suggestive being, as I take it, as applicable to each 
 of the others as to ours, for whom and for which they
 
 TO T. P. 25 
 
 were written. For myself, as a member of our com- 
 mittee, I intend acting upon them almost literally 
 especially upon those of them relative to the wise and 
 politic hints thrown out as to the immutable and un- 
 surmountable necessity of pleasing the women (particu- 
 larly the spinster section of them a strong party), if 
 we would succeed with our nominee. The man upon 
 whom my choice will fall (I herewith duly warn all 
 intending candidates) must indeed be a man of men 
 a divine whose theological and political, as well as 
 ecclesiastical tenets, views, and policy, are of a similar 
 cast and tendency to my own an undoubted bachelor, 
 of a sweet, comely, and distinguished appearance, and 
 ready to take oath that his greatest carnal desire will 
 be if elected to get married to a fair parishioner 
 within a suitable period after his ordination. 
 
 Against these indispensable conditions, we set the 
 universally prized advantages of a high stipend, a 
 beautiful manse, a quiet and convenient parish, and a 
 large and very fertile glebe. (In this connection, I 
 may state that we have already forty-five unsolicited 
 applicants for our church not a few of whom are 
 " placed ministers ! ") Great, responsible, and sacred, 
 no doubt, are the duties required of " comytees " such 
 as ours ; but we are no Scotchmen if we keep not a 
 keen eye open for the temporalities therefore, the 
 ladies need have no fear of the subscriber (T. P.) 
 neglecting their manifest and respected interests. 
 
 Blaebraes, THOMAS PINTAIL. 
 
 TO T. P. 
 DEAR TAMMAS : 
 
 I got your note. Fell proud I be 
 To learn yer on our " Comytee ! " 
 " We've got a judge an' referee " 
 
 (Cried I, richt vauntie !) 
 " In our polemic dominie, 
 
 Wuth ony twenty ! "
 
 26 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Now shall each daurin' candidate 
 
 Be heckled weel on Kirk an' State ! 
 
 John Calvin's creed the " five points " great 
 
 They maun endorse 'em ! 
 Arminian heresies on "fate" 
 
 Avoid or curse 'em ! 
 
 Taigle them, Tarn ! an' be nae spairin' 
 On that teuch doctrine Trinitarian ! 
 If in yer grips ae cheep, like Arian, 
 
 They dare tae mew 
 Expunge them ! wi' the Unitarian 
 
 Socinian crew ! 
 
 Syne pruve him wi' the Athanasian 
 
 That " creed " wi' ne'er a twa-faced phrase in ;- 
 
 Gif ane demur, ye'll spier nae reason, 
 
 But pack him aff ! 
 Folk hae nae mind, when barns are bleezin', 
 
 Tae riddle caff! 
 
 Oor need is urgent therefore wale 
 A shepherd famed owre hill an' dale 
 For zeal, an' wrath, an' lungs tae quail 
 
 This stiff- neck'd age 
 Wi' graphic notes on Clootie's jail 
 
 Its destined cage ! 
 
 Nae, washy, braid-kirk, Moderate ! 
 
 Nor philosophic ape, to prate 
 
 Of " Love " in sermons, like his pate, 
 
 As wersh, as srna' ! 
 But ane stour, self-crown'd autocrate, 
 
 Strong on the " law 1 " 
 
 Your Huxleys, Tyndalls, Arnolds, Mills, 
 
 Find their refuters in themsel's ! 
 
 Here, whare they're prized, like whisky stills, 
 
 By Templar folks, 
 We need nae pleaders on oor hills 
 
 For Orthodox !
 
 TO T. P. 27 
 
 An', also, Tarn, / rede ye weel, 
 Yer choice be on a Union chiel 
 Wha will go in for pawkie skill 
 
 An' compromise, 
 Cannily to " bird-lime " " trap " or steal 
 
 A' prey that flies ! 
 
 Noo warrin' patronage is gane 
 Worried the auld contention bane 
 Why should we, like three jowlers, strain 
 
 At ithers' neck 1 
 Oh ! sune oor trinal leash rin ane 
 
 For Scotland's sake ! 
 
 Ye mooted "Disestablishment," 
 An' spier hoo I think thereanent 1 
 Ye ken fu' weel I'm that way bent ; 
 
 But, Dominie ! 
 Tis that towards UNION it wud tent 
 
 The sisters three ! 
 
 An' lastly, Tarn, mak' sure yer choice 
 Fa's on a lad wi' catchin' voice, 
 An' genty mien fit tae rejoice 
 
 Oor lassies fickle ; 
 Or ye may raise yer lugs a noise 
 
 Will gaur them tickle ! 
 
 They doubly can ootrate the " men," 
 
 Sae, gin ye wadna toil in vain, 
 
 Mind what I say 'bune a', wale ane 
 
 A woman wanter ; 
 An' there's my loof ! the Manse, aff haun', 
 
 Is his instanter !
 
 28 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 IN THE AULD KTEKYAIRD 0' 
 PRESTONKIRK. 
 
 ON a sunny, genial day, 
 When at length the mid-aged May 
 Wi' the braird begude to busk the waukenin' earth 
 in green, 
 
 I teuk my staff in hand, 
 And, sudden, slipped the band 
 
 Whilk hauds us tae the warl', roond a stake o' troubles 
 keen ! 
 
 Tho' wyled by mony a flower, 
 
 I stayed-na ance tae glour, 
 Till the siller-gleaming Tyne sang her pseans at my feet ! 
 
 Then, like the bard I felt 
 
 In my freedom fond I knelt 
 
 At the shrine o' Nature, spell-bound \vi' her look sae 
 fair an' sweet ! 
 
 A-down the sheltered haughs, 
 The towering feathery saughs, 
 
 Like queens august waved welcomes to the realms o' 
 wood an' stream ; 
 
 'Neath their fairy-flickering shade, 
 Ane enchanted wight I strayed, 
 
 Wi' the " banks an' braes " aroon' me in a rapt 
 Elysian dream ! 
 
 On an' on, thro' yellow broom, 
 Birks an hawthorns, briars in bloom, 
 
 Cowslips full flowered, springing brackens, daffodils ; 
 Linties singing simmer's theme, 
 To the deep-pleased, lingering stream 
 
 Zephyrs fragrant, roaming idly o'er the hills.
 
 IN THE A ULD KIRKYAIRD 0' PRESTONKIRK. 29 
 
 Past the mill an' the green wood, 
 Whaur the leafless rowan stood, 
 
 Like the wraith o' distraught winter still unlaid ! 
 Ere I wist, mysel' I found 
 In the kirkyaird's waukrife bound 
 
 Waking up to conscious being, whaur deep sleep th' 
 unconscious dead ! 
 
 Thro' a winnock, left undraped, 
 
 0' the lonely kirk I peep'd 
 It was empty, silent, vasty, eerie, weird ; 
 
 Sic an awesomeness within, 
 
 That a running moosie's din 
 
 Wad gart ane start an' tremble as a skulking ghaist 
 he heard ! 
 
 But the golden gloaming blazed, 
 
 And my fancy, as I gazed, 
 
 Restored the shadowy temple wi'ts worshippers of 
 yore ! 
 
 I heard auld James " invoke," 
 
 There stood oor auld-kent folk, 
 In reverent postures lowly as they stood in life before ! 
 
 Tears, burning, scorched my e'en 
 As I fond recalled each frien', 
 
 Whyles I tholed the dreid fact waefu' "In their 
 graves they sleep aroun' ! " 
 
 Sae I turn'd, in sorrow fain, 
 The auld names to con again 
 
 That affection, lonely sighing, on memorial stane hath 
 hewn ! 
 
 Somehow, oor footsteps creep 
 Aye whaur oor ain kin sleep ; 
 
 Sae, by rote, I haply saunter'd near a weel-kenned 
 auld ash tree ! 
 
 On a sair jee'd, moss-grown stane, 
 There I sat an' made my name 
 
 For that far-back age the golden when my warld 
 was mother's knee !
 
 30 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 For her ! her " laddie's " tears, 
 Some twenty cauldrife years, 
 
 Have well'd an' flow'd, an' dried ; and well'd an' flow'd 
 again ! 
 
 Wi' some sma' blinks atween, 
 Fell stormy life has been 
 
 That aft her laddie's bark shored to strew wi' wrack 
 the main ! 
 
 But thro' a' those years to him 
 (As the Heaven.sent pole star's beam), 
 The memory o' a mother's love hath beacon'd every 
 shoal ! 
 
 Let seas with tempests war 
 Ae rift may serve a star, 
 
 To ward the seaman lonely to his love-encompass'd 
 goal ! 
 
 Fareweel, thou sacred dust 
 Safe garner'd in His trust ! 
 
 Hope pierces the dark shadow with a golden beam of 
 Day! 
 
 Shine on, Beam divine ! 
 Wi' growing lustre shine ! 
 
 As we draw the " bourne " nearer making light 
 death's dreary way ! 
 
 THE WEE BROOK SQUIRREL : 
 
 A GREENWOOD RHYME. 
 
 IN the fir plantin', frae the screich o' day, 
 
 Like the plumed prince o' the greenwood warl', 
 What time the elfins daurna shake a tae 
 Up a tree, look at me, the wee broon squirrel ! 
 Merrier than cuckoo heard, 
 Gleger than swallow bird, 
 
 " Puck " himsePs a gowk to me the wee broon 
 squirrel !
 
 HARVEST, 1877. 31 
 
 Deep in the heart o' the ever-green tree, 
 
 Far frae the ken o' the muneshine crew, 
 Kockit by the winds my forest bowers be, 
 
 The cushat's my trumpeter croodle, croodle, doo ! 
 Gyte wi' luve railin', 
 Cooin', an' wailin', 
 Simmer nicht an' mornin' croodle, croodle, doo ! 
 
 Swith as the hoolet to 's auld blichtit tree, 
 Stealeth on saft wing at early cock-craw, 
 Bright as a star flaucht, I spoot up on hie, 
 What time the laverocks on morn's star ca' 
 Cockit luggies, curly 
 Lang tail, an' swirly, 
 Twinklin' on the lerrick taps in the wauk'nin' daw' ! 
 
 The born Jack-tar o' the woodland am I 
 
 " Steeple-Jack " daurna wage a spiel wi' me ! 
 Yon spruce-pine tap, spearin' the howe sky, 
 I wad lay it at his feet or he'd coont three ! 
 Up, like the hawk, I'd vault, 
 Down, like the thunderbolt, 
 
 Syne, oh whaur, " Steeple Jackie," wad a' yer 
 glory be ! 
 
 Up a tree, look at me, the wee broon squirrel ! 
 Merrier than Eobin Hood, the lea-lang day ! 
 Ye little plumed prince o' the greenwood warl', 
 What time the nicht faes daurna shake a tae ! 
 Cockit lugs, an' curly, 
 Lang tail, an' swirly, 
 
 A' the elves are sloths to me the wee broon 
 squirrel !
 
 32 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 HAEVEST, 1877. 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN AMERICA. 
 
 DEAR M , 
 
 Hoo are ye a', man. oure the Ferry 1 
 0' thee I aft think an' Fort Garry, 
 And ferly gin Time's restless wherry 
 
 Shall e'er again 
 Waft us thegither, bauld an' merry, 
 
 Some glorious e'en ! 
 
 Lang in the backwoods we twa ran, 
 Defying skaith, clime, beast or man, 
 Adventure in our hearts, in haun' 
 
 A Colburn rifle 
 All friendless, in that strange lone Ian' 
 
 Deeming a trifle. 
 
 Sin syne, auld comrade, I am here ; 
 But this by thee seems not to lear, 
 As in your dear prized note ye speer 
 
 Gin "Peg" I'd mount 
 0' this far-famous awfu' year 
 
 Some true account. 
 
 I'm stagger'd whereat tae begin, 
 The tale sae far, far back does rin, 
 But I'll just jump my story in 
 
 Whare last hairst ended, 
 And first the deluge, like a linn, 
 
 On us descended. 
 
 A' winter, lowlands, haughs, an' glens, 
 Were transforni'd lochs, an' bogs, an' fens 
 Even weel-drain'd upland, loamy plains 
 
 In your auld kintra, 
 Up tae midsummer, wi' the rains, 
 
 Kythed deserts wintry.
 
 HARVEST, 1877. 33 
 
 Sma' wheat was satin, an' maist o' that 
 Was droon'd out tae a waesome scrat 
 Ere Mayday cam', like ominous bat 
 
 Wi' cloudy wings, 
 Tae usher in the nicht distraught 
 
 This harvest brings. 
 
 A' thro' tho spring, the land o' cakes 
 ISTe'er buskit her green shaws an' brakes ; 
 But storms an' multitudinous wrecks 
 
 Clad her in woe ; 
 An' for birds' sangs, we'd bardies' shrieks 
 
 'Bout "Dolereaux!" 
 
 Trovvth ! drear an' gurly was the simmer ! 
 Puir Nature ! May month wadna trim her ; 
 June whistled thro' her leafless timmer 
 
 Like surly March, 
 And e'en July, the turn-coat limmer, 
 
 Proved hard an' harsh. 
 
 St Swithin's Day stole on apace, 
 Great promise in his watery face ; 
 The legendary tale he'd grace 
 
 The " forty days," 
 Like water kelpies, each in 's place, 
 
 Beyond gainsays. 
 
 A month ahin', at lang an' last, 
 
 'Tween showers, an' gales, an' skies o'ercast, 
 
 And sick hope daily sinking fast, 
 
 The hairst began, 
 When lo ! anither horror pass'd 
 
 Owre auld Scotland. 
 
 A flood, tae whilk the floods afore 
 An', trust me, we had score on score ! 
 Were but as gutters tae the roar 
 
 An' rackin' din 
 0' spated Tyne's tumultuous pour 
 
 Ower Linton Linn.
 
 34 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 The Craps 1 I beg thee, dearest M , 
 
 Constrain me not tae talk o' them, 
 For if sae, ye 'd my screed condemn 
 
 As patent lees ; 
 And deem a madman grown auld Sam 
 
 Athort the seas ! 
 
 Sae warrily, I'll simply say, 
 We've gat oor hairst a' in this day ; 
 And we Ve some forty stacks o' strae 
 
 Forbye the caff; 
 As for the corn, baith guid an' gray, 
 
 Is just some draff. 
 
 The tatties ? Waes me for the tatties ! 
 For, tho' not fond o' them as Pat is, 
 I railish them wi' herring as saut as 
 
 Yerl Beconsfiel' ; 
 But, och, this year, alas ! their faut is 
 
 Sae few tae peel. 
 
 The neeps an' them are just a match, 
 Wi' here an' there a guidish patch, 
 Of failure absolute a swatch 
 
 The best I've seen 
 Sin daylicht, suffering, drew the latch 
 
 0' Sammy's eyne. 
 
 Fareweel, dear Malcolm, fare ye weel ! 
 God bless ye a' ! And thou, dear chiel, 
 Should e'er blind Fortune's chancy wheel 
 
 Ligg us thegither, 
 Wow ! what a glorious nicht we 'd steal 
 
 Frae care an' bother !
 
 HARVEST, 1880. 35 
 
 HAEVEST, 1880. 
 
 SECOND EPISTLE TO A FRIEND IN AMERICA. 
 
 BRAW thanks for thy fraternal letter, 
 Pack'd, line on line, wi' priceless matter, 
 A' sorts o' news an' dear-prized clatter 
 
 'Bout a' oor freen's, 
 Wha mak' a Scotland owre the water, 
 
 The auld demeans ! 
 
 " How are the times in Caledon 
 I ask not of thy god, Glad-stone ! 
 But how 's the farming moving on 1 " 
 
 Thou eager question, 
 And sagely threep the theme is one 
 
 Sam shouldna' jest on ! 
 
 Hear, then, thou bran-new wondrous saunt, 
 Since gravity is now thy cant, 
 Know that oor Scottish year is scant 
 
 Of naught ; it seems 
 A medium-yielding, average plant, 
 
 Sans all extremes. 
 
 The spring cam' soughin' saftly in, 
 Our seed was sawn wi' dry March win' ; 
 May sapless sped, but left behin' 
 
 A faultless braird, 
 Whilk June and July matured syne 
 
 With meet regard. 
 
 Now hairst is ended : thack an' rape 
 Secure a sonsy, weel-won crap 
 Against the rains, an' ocht mishap 
 
 Frae winter's storms ; 
 God send it scare beyond high Alp 
 
 Last year's alarms !
 
 36 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 The neeps an' tatties, too, are prime, 
 No' free o' blicht but just a styme ; 
 We scarce a hopefu'er autumn time 
 
 Have known before; 
 Had we 'scaped recent loss this "rhyme " 
 
 I'd sung galore ! 
 
 Alake, alake ! there hangs a tale, 
 
 The stoutest, hopefu'est heart micht quail ! 
 
 Scores of our sturdiest farmers fail 
 
 To jouk the jaw, 
 An' broken-hearted families haill 
 
 Gae to the wa' ! 
 
 Wbat heart but bleeds to think o' them 
 Wives, bairnies, auld stumps sire and dame- 
 A' riven oot tbeir auld, auld hame 
 
 They 've kenn'd sae lang, 
 To seek in tears, despair, an' shame 
 
 Some-whare to gang ! 
 
 And active, pushing fallows, too, 
 Have bit the dust alas, nae few ! 
 But cases such as theirs, I trew, 
 
 Move pity less, 
 Because themsePs, wi' rack-rent, drew 
 
 Themsel's a mess. 
 
 A' owre the land, this is the tale 
 Failures an' changes thick prevail ; 
 Land-rent is melting down like hail 
 
 In April's lap ; 
 An' mony farms the lairds themsel' 
 
 Perforce maun crap ! 
 
 But efter a' is said an' dune, 
 
 The gloom, I ween, will lichten sune, 
 
 The mirkiest hour whan there's nae mune - 
 
 Precedes the daw' 
 A jiffey ere god Sol abune 
 
 O'erwhelms it a' !
 
 HARVEST, 1880. 37 
 
 Like water running unconfined, 
 A' things to level are inclined ; 
 Sae rents will settle cash or kind 
 
 As need shall show, 
 Tho' twenty million lairds combined 
 
 To stem the flow ! 
 
 Then welcome thy steam argosies, 
 In smoking fleets atowre the seas ! 
 Send meat an' wheat, or what thou please, 
 
 To staw toom bellies : 
 'Twill cost thee sune a Yankee " sqeeeze " 
 
 To undersell us ! 
 
 A fair field and no favour granted, 
 
 We'll face old Jonathan undaunted, 
 
 An' laugh his " boundless prairies," vaunted 
 
 Heaven's maps unfurl'd ! 
 J. Bull's an' Sandy's pluck 's implanted 
 
 To whip the world ! 
 
 Adieu ! mine erewhile backwoods crony, 
 I lang to meet thee mair than ony ! 
 Oh, tak' a whid to Scotland bonnie 
 
 Some canny morn 
 Thy sicht wad heeze her higher than mony 
 
 Eraw craps o' corn ! 
 
 Farewell 'enoo ! whate'er betide 
 To us the "Ferry" either side, 
 Or weel or wae the warld wide 
 
 By turns dow tak' it, 
 I am, auld comrade, friend, an' guide, 
 
 Yours Mucklebackit !
 
 38 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 "WATTY." 
 
 " WATTY " was a dog of the so-called " Newfoundland " 
 breed, a really remarkable canine character in his day, 
 and altogether the most bold, sagacious, and affectionate 
 member of his species I have ever had the good for- 
 tune yet to know. His portrait in the following 
 screed such as it is is not in one single respect over- 
 drawn. People who have never studied the habits 
 and characters of dogs are often ignorantly prejudiced 
 on the subject, and very apt to deem untruthful, or at 
 least exaggerated, all stories which bespeak for the 
 race any degree of reason or intelligence as apart from, 
 and over and above, mere instinct. This I know to 
 be decidedly wrong. All healthy dogs are endowed 
 with intellectual faculties, or " reason," in degree. In 
 degree, also, I believe they possess a moral sense. 
 The noble dog called " Newfoundland " in this country 
 (for he is not the real dog of Newfoundland, being 
 never more than half-bred : the true Newfoundland 
 dog is a considerably different animal, being six feet 
 and a half in length, lank bodied, short haired, gene- 
 rally smooth, and never barking but when greatly 
 excited or irritated) belongs to the most intellectual 
 variety of the species, although, individually, they are 
 very unequal. The brain in our Newfoundland kind 
 of dogs anatomists estimate at l-60th part of the body; 
 in the poodle, l-100th part; in the bull-dog, l-300th 
 part, &c. , thus proving the influence of brain in the 
 dog, and its corresponding absence or decrease with 
 their respective degrees of intelligence. 
 
 A noble tyke ! leonine, bonny 
 In size a'maist a Shetlan' pownie ! 
 Ah ! had ye kenned this kingly dog, 
 The royal spirit here incog. \ 
 The lion briest, the little e'e, 
 His profoond foreheid bulgin' hie,
 
 " WATTY." 39 
 
 His awfu' but sagacious muzzle, 
 
 His lugs doun pendin' to his guzzle, 
 
 His bull-set neck, his michty paws 
 
 Braid, ponderous, web'd atween the claws 
 
 (To pad his highness when he'd platter 
 
 For troots an' eels in Tyne's deep water). 
 
 An' sic a back ! frae tail to shouther 
 
 A shake-doun, length and breadth thegither ; 
 
 It sat oor gude sire's bairns fairly 
 
 What just he wished an' bure them rarely. 
 
 His tawted hinders, lang but sma' 
 
 The glorious tail o'er-cresting a' ! 
 
 Thick, bushy, flauntin' high abune 
 
 Like hero's plume owre Wallace croon 
 
 Or, droopin' pendulous behin', 
 
 Like Hielan' torrent owre a lynn. 
 
 Its every wag was speech in motion 
 
 That tauld the wagger's ilka notion. 
 
 War, peace, love, hate, 'twere a' the same 
 
 The tail sufficed him to proclaim ; 
 
 An' sae proclaimit, be it kent, 
 
 A wean wad tauld ye what he meant ; 
 
 In short, keep tail an' dowg thegither, 
 
 Owre the wide y earth there 's no his brither ! 
 
 weel he kenn'd the " Backfa' dam," 
 Whar mickle troots an' salmon cam' 
 In autumn spates, up river crousely, 
 To lay their spawn in burnies doucely. 
 The miller aft wad " doun " the sluice, 
 While, " up to snuff," sat Watty spruce, 
 Ready the silvery loupin' plunder 
 To onset wi' his growl o' thunder ! 
 'Neath either mickle stane or pool, 
 Gin ane got aff ca' Watty " fool ! " 
 An' hoo he killed them a' sae quickly 
 To a' that saw 't was problem fickley 
 Ane after ane on bank he laid them, 
 But ne'er was seen ae wound he made them !
 
 40 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 He ne'er gat staked to stall or kennel, 
 Like thochtless hound or snarlin' spaniel ; 
 Noble an' free nae slave-like ward 
 But aye the trustiest, truest guard ! 
 A' scamps an' tramps he used maist tartly 
 Ae raggit leg, tho' seen but partly 
 Around the corner, was eneuch, sirs, 
 To raise on end his hedge o' birses ! 
 Some, seein' this, wad be na slack 
 To shun the front door for the back, 
 Mak' a wide circuit round the house, 
 An' slink to kitchen quate as mouse j 
 But Watty, aye wi' noddle clear, 
 In strategy was their compeer. 
 Nae circuit wide tak' he, or more 
 Than thro' the house frae door to door, 
 Wi' grave, responsible, sure step 
 The foe at kitchen door to kep. 
 There were they trapp'd ! wi' ae grand bound 
 A roar a growl he cleared the ground ! 
 An' yet, for a' his ill-will at them, 
 Puir sowls ! dear doug ! he never bit them ! 
 
 In huntin' he was just a Nimrod 
 His scent death sure where'er he trod ; 
 At a' kinds game, or vermin either, 
 He wad hae ca'd nae born doug brither, 
 Hares, foumarts, foxes, otters, badgers, 
 Slee, rievin' rottens, hurcheon hedgers ; 
 Paitricks or plovers a' were quarry 
 To sportin' Wat, fleet, bauld, an' wary. 
 But a' this great fell airt accomplish'd 
 Was e'en made little or discomfish'd, 
 Whan pitted 'gainst the grander fame 
 He wan amang his freends at hame. 
 His human freends, that ane fain tells, 
 Considered Wat ane o' themsel's. 
 His great affection a' the household, 
 Doun to the very cats, be 't tauld
 
 "WATTY." 4' 
 
 Withoot ae selfish thought or slavish, 
 
 For years upon us did he lavish ! 
 
 'twas his paradise to be 
 
 In winter nichts, when aften we 
 
 Wad draw aroun' for fireside crack 
 
 Sisters an' brithers, a dear pack 
 
 Squat on his hurdies in a corner 
 
 To listen a' oor tales an' won'er ; 
 
 Whiles absent, blinkin' at the fire, 
 
 Lost in a riddle deep and dire 
 
 Then, bricht'nin' up, wi' convinced e'e, 
 
 The happiest sage a doug could be ! 
 
 Spak' ye o' him however lichtly, 
 
 His tail confess'd the honour brichtly ; 
 
 Tho' ance his name ye didna mention, 
 
 Ne'er heed ; he " guess'd " 'twas your intention. 
 
 He had his fav'rites, tae, but chief 
 He prized the young ; their joy or grief 
 At the first glance he made his ain 
 Ye couldna' gart him harm a wean. 
 To see them on his back a-pair, 
 Haudin' by lugs, by tail, and hair ; 
 Hoo, pechin', prood the haverel strutted, 
 Wi' hingin' tongue, like doug o'er-heated ; 
 Syne, sune as free, boundin' awa' 
 A hunder yairds afore them a', 
 A.n' welt'rin' doun, his e'e upo' them, 
 Waggin' his joyous tail to " do " them, 
 Was sic a sicht ! tak' it for granted, 
 The mair ane saw 't tbe mair he wanted. 
 
 A TRUE EPISODE. 
 
 A ploughman lad ane Jamie Bell 
 Ae Sunday morn, to Mongoswell 
 Gaed hame to see his puir auld mither 
 (Wha keepit house for's elder brither), 
 Tuk wi' him Watty as protector 
 True as a mother, bold as Hector !
 
 42 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 But, nearin' hame, his mam and billie 
 He met, baith bound for Elsintilly 
 Famed Ensintilly Kirk, an' they 
 Press'd Jamie sair wi' them to gae, 
 And he, forgettin' Wat was there, 
 Consenting joined the humble pair. 
 
 On some deep canine forage, he 
 The doug had faun behind the three, 
 Sae that in kirk they were just seated, 
 When Watty, blawin', pantin', heated, 
 Rushed thro' the doorway, ben the 'trance 
 Strecht to his ploughman friend at ance, 
 Wha blushed, syne kick'd the doug for shame, 
 An' tried a' airts to hound him haine. 
 He snooved awa' but Jove ! to think 
 Up the poopit stairs the vratch did slink ! 
 The door was open, " mess John " waitin' ; 
 Nae " law of patronage " debatin', 
 Watty impromptu took possession 
 Sans sanction, patron, members, session ! 
 
 O gaunt, lang, Eeverend Mr B ], 
 
 Thou deep divine of inspired skill, 
 Gloom na wi' froonin' brows to-day 
 Thy fated strains nane will gainsay ! 
 In gown an' bands, an' proper air, 
 He leaves his vestry nears the stair 
 Then solemn mounts. Ah, carnal wit ! 
 His thochts, his cares, wide o" the bit, 
 Circle a' round his gifted wark. 
 Whilst o' what 's pendin' just as dark 
 An' blin' 's the folk o' Noah's Ark 
 The doug, clasht on the poopit flure, 
 Knawin' an' lickin' 's paws secure. 
 Stops short in sudden, hears a foot 
 Gurrs listens rises streeks him oot 
 Shrinks back in fear an' wonder (fear 
 His heart, save then, gat never near)
 
 THE FOPPISH YOUNG FARMER. 43 
 
 Ae moment, when the priest he saw 
 In such, to him, unyearthly shaw, 
 Lowering in stole an' death-like face. 
 (Oh, tell it lown ! mind man an' place !), 
 The minister hard by the throat, 
 Wi' ae high bound he fiercely got. 
 An' coost him struggling ower the stair, 
 Ane wi' the ither wrestlin' sair. 
 Then, in a'e combined howl and cry, 
 Got o' the kirk they separate fly 
 Leavin' the folks, as Jamie tells, 
 That day to say the prayers themsel's ! 
 
 "THE FOPPISH YOUNG FAKMEK." 
 
 " The ' Lothians Three/ Sam, are widely and justly 
 famed for their farmers and farming. But justly 
 famous in these respects as they are, the escutcheon 
 of their farmer class scrutinised closely exhibits a 
 few dingy and ridiculous blots upon its otherwise 
 brilliant disc. For example, I doubt if one single 
 Englishman in ten thousand, into whose ears have been 
 dinned the praises of the Lothians from his infancy, 
 knows one iota of the real facts concerning a certain 
 pretty considerable section of your renowned agri- 
 culturists. The fry I allude to is chiefly composed 
 of the sons of wealthy or successful farmers; and, 
 take the word of an old observer who knows them 
 well for it, their supercilious manners, their offensive 
 self-assumption, their almost criminal arrogance to- 
 wards their social inferiors, their disgusting apish 
 conceit, and unpardonable ignorance, are to use their 
 own lingo a 'Caution,' with a big ' C,' indeed. 
 (Don't get angry, Sam ; I want you to see and know 
 the truth.) Well, one of this set, disporting himself 
 in the streets of a certain county town one day, was 
 observed by me, the Piper, from the window of a
 
 44 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 hotel, where I was awaiting with impatience the 
 arrival of a dram, with which I had some brief business 
 to transact. To while away and fill up the time till my 
 friend was announced, my old scrap-book was un- 
 pouched, and some notes were taken for a rhyming 
 sketch of the foppish young agriculturist. Rax me 
 owre my wallet, Little Sam, and the Piper sail read it 
 to ye himsel'. Ay, here it is just as it stands ! I've 
 ca'd it, Sam, 
 
 THE FOPPISH YOUNG FARMER. 
 
 " View him at market with mustachioed face, 
 
 Assuming manners which he cannot grace ! 
 
 Affected, magisterial, insolent 
 
 His landlord's fawning flunkey for a rent ! 
 
 (That is prospectively the pup I draw 
 
 Owes all his lustre yet to ' poor papa.') 
 
 "With lesser farm, his neighbour near is dirt 
 
 He'd scorn to recognise, but, all alert 
 
 To puff his vanity, he'll stretch as high 
 
 E'en as my young lord in his London fly. 
 
 For one mere distant bow from one so great, 
 
 Our embryo husbandman would strangle Fate ! 
 
 Tramp through the wheat to catch him at the turn, 
 
 Or for his ' good day ' ford waist deep Tyne burn ! 
 
 See him at market : From this window here 
 The Piper spots him in his gorgeous gear ! 
 The peacock 's in full tail behold the Flam 
 The Duck of Puppeydom, the Prince of Sham ! 
 And such an officer ! Ye 'd think ye saw 
 The living Bismarck giving Frenchmen law ! 
 While, all the time, in solid worth and power, 
 Yon mason's 'prentice, whose trade craft 's his dower, 
 Towers o'er him as the giant forest oak 
 Does o'er the nettle or the wanton dock ! 
 
 With swaggering strut see him parade the streets, 
 All smirks and bows for each ' great man ' he meets ! 
 A local lord he salutes with an arm 
 Like bending boat-mast swaying in a storm ;
 
 THE FOPPISH YOUNG FARMER. 45 
 
 The Burgh Sires and Councillors, grown fat 
 
 On sweet authority, or Bernard's maut, 
 
 Are all his rage, his hob-nob friends, 'twould seem 
 
 Ah, bless you, reader ! this too 's just a whim 
 
 Of vanity ! Our knight they only know 
 
 By name or custom, which is here below 
 
 The ' Open, Sesame ! ' to the closed world's heart, 
 
 And short-lived honours of the street and mart. 
 
 The ' ladies,' too, our Spark does deftly greet. 
 Veneered and varnished, little of him meets 
 Their passing gaze ; besides, angelic eyes 
 See good in all things either side the skies. 
 Yet, doubtless, there is one whose discreet mind 
 Deems him a catch all ' true love ' 's not sand blind ! 
 His form is stalwart, if his mind be mean, 
 And his farm home why, it might serve a queen ; 
 Beaux, too, like nags, are scarce, and one 's oft glad 
 Not to be nice, but bit what can be had ! 
 
 A little while, our Hero starts for home, 
 The Piper follows ! Up in May's blue dome, 
 Sol, all secure, a long arc yet can sight 
 Ere Dian shall awake and supersede him quite. 
 
 The farm is reached, the stylish drive is o'er ; 
 We join 'young master ' at the big-house door, 
 Then saunter with him through his brairded fields 
 Quiet smiling at the pleasure which it yields 
 This rural princeling thruin the gamut o'er 
 Of self-laudation, and the treasured store 
 Of puerile nonsense anent mean details 
 And petty incidents the shreds and tails 
 Of simple farming telling all the trash 
 Like one divulging plots that might a nation smash ! 
 
 To test him in his own line, we enquire 
 'Why weeds thrive most when cultured plants expire?' 
 The response is a vacant stare ! 'Tis vain 
 One criuch of wisdom to attempt to gain 
 From one who knows this as his highest lore 
 ' Spur ' won the last race, ' Whip ' the year's before ! 
 
 All knowledge of this wonder-teeming round 
 The gather'd spoils of scientists profound,
 
 46 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 The splendours of the god-like Shakespeare down 
 
 To the harsh ditties of the poet clown, 
 
 The annalist's strange tale, the problems sage 
 
 And vast philosophic with which our age 
 
 Is riven ; nay, the monthly storm and surge 
 
 Of wrath and oratory within ' The Geoi'ge ' 
 
 All to our Dandy are as unto one 
 
 Who lived before the flood when schools and tawse 
 
 were none ! 
 
 Now, should, my culprit, this too truthful sketch 
 Of thee meet thine own eyes, yet further stretch 
 Thy patience love whets the true censor's dart 
 That wisdom shoots. So, once more, ere we part: 
 
 Because thou art thy father's son, and set 
 A master over men, deem thee not yet 
 The master of their thoughts which measure thee 
 Intuitively just where, if thou be 
 In them awanting, all thy lofty airs 
 Can never raise thee ! Arrogance impairs 
 What it would mend. Ah, grasp the better role 
 Be true, if nothing great, for ev'n thy soul 
 Is worthy of this choice, tho' dwarfed and tame 
 Son of thy father, father not Jiis shame ! 
 Nor deck thy cheek with skin humility, 
 But let thy very core and centre be 
 True modesty's own home ! Then, howsoe'er 
 World honour flaunts, doing thy falling share 
 Of honest work, the hairst will come anon 
 When thou wilt reap in sheaves what thou in grains 
 hast sown !" 
 
 The " Piebald Piper Papei's." 
 
 " ANE AULD-FARRANT RAME." 
 
 " Quhan buddis grene maid faire ye scene 
 
 In oor countrie, 
 And birddis sange and flowris sprange 
 
 In wud and le ;
 
 ANE AULD-FARRANT RAME. 47 
 
 E'for I wald rom, I fersuke horn, 
 
 Maist pensivlie, 
 And through Loudone ane hapie lande 
 
 I wandert fre. 
 
 My doleful mone, like wind, wes gone 
 
 Quhan anes I saw 
 That hapie land, with feeldis grande, 
 
 And streme and schaw ! 
 Quhiles, white and bra', ilk fermir's Ha' 
 
 Did pleesandlie 
 Ye plane ourluke, lik ane Bas Kok 
 
 Ye grait blue Se ! 
 
 ' 0, hapie lande ! 0, hapie lande ! ' 
 
 Sange in thir gle 
 Ye merles aroon', ye larks aboon 
 
 Fra lift and tre ! 
 Quhilk es I heerd, my craig I cleer'd, 
 
 Rapturouslie, 
 And ' hapie land ! twise hapie land ! ' 
 
 Maid ansir fre ! 
 
 Quhairat ane man upstertit than 
 
 Fra 's hedge-side seit 
 Ane puir auld man, ane queer auld man, 
 
 Quhom I did greit: 
 ' 0, deer auld man ! 0, queer auld man ! 
 
 Pruve thow my fere ! 
 Expound til me thiss fine countrie, 
 
 This Aiden here 1 ' 
 
 ' Herk ye ! ' quoth hee, es doon satt wee 
 
 Ane banke upo', 
 ' Thiss fine countrie is al,' says hee, 
 
 ' Ane lande of Wo ! 
 Thae ferins thair, ye wene sae faire, 
 
 Ye lairds beelang : 
 "Wee ferminge fok, like al live stok, 
 
 But cum and gang !
 
 48 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 ' With grait payments and rackit rents 
 
 Dett-droon'd ar wee ; 
 And chokt with wheate and teuch deid meit 
 
 Era thort ye Se ! 
 Yon Merkit Ha's lange gless ruif bra, 
 
 On quhilk Sol strones, 
 Iss crackit al in lozens smal 
 
 With fermirs' grones ! ! 
 
 ' Likwyse by fock thit manyoors trock 
 
 Wee'r herryit sair ; 
 Sine taxmen crues, and cushy dooze 
 
 Dow pike us bare ! 
 giff som cheeld, in pawtents skeel'd, 
 
 Wald bit deevise 
 Some acks, or bills, till stap thaise ills 
 
 Sans kompromise ! 
 
 ' We daurna plo, nir sel, nor soe, 
 
 Bit leeve o' lease 
 Ane auld-warld screed, thit's been ye deid 
 
 Of al oure race. 
 Shoo ! fine countrie ! Behald,' cried hee, 
 
 Pointinge beelo, 
 ' Ye grand refuge of humbugs huge 
 
 Ane lande of Wo ! ' 
 
 Quhilk havinge screetch'd, like ane bewitch'd 
 
 This queer auld man 
 Ran doun ye hill with richt gude will ; 
 
 Yea, roringe, ran ! 
 Quhairat, amaz'd, mysel' I raised 
 
 (Til klose my rarne), 
 And, laffinge as I'd busst my hause, 
 
 Cam' hotchin' harne ! " 
 
 The " Piebald Piper Papers.'
 
 "AULD LEES." 49 
 
 "AULD LEE S." 
 
 A RUSTIC PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 SOME years ago, in the heart of East Lothian (not 
 of course the " Tolbooth," after Sir Walter, but merely 
 the central district of the county), I encountered, and 
 afterwards became familiarly intimate with, a some- 
 what extraordinary character in the semblance, flesh, 
 and actual being of only a poor and hard-working 
 farm servant, distinguished in those parts by the 
 homely sobriquet of " Auld Lees" his rightful 
 denomination being Jamie or James Lees. In any 
 sphere or position of life this unique man would 
 doubtless have been notable, but to my mind con- 
 sidering his social status, his scant chances, and what 
 he had intellectually mastered and made his own, 
 despite his lowly origin and destiny he was more 
 remarkable than if, with better opportunities, he had 
 risen, like others, to European eminence as an inventor 
 or scientist. 
 
 A few years previous to my first knowledge of him, 
 he had the shocking misfortune to lose his right arm 
 by a thrashing mill. His old master no doubt 
 knowing and appreciating his worth still retained him 
 after the accident in his service, and at the time I 
 became acquainted with him he filled the position of 
 grieve, or Steward, on a large arable farm. On this 
 holding he likewise, for an extra perquisite, acted as 
 general mechanic ; and despite the loss of his arm, he 
 erected fences and kept in good repair all the gates 
 and carts, thrashing mill and engine, and the whole 
 machinery on the farm. The cart mending, &c., he 
 overtook during wet weather, and at other odd times 
 when not engaged in the field ; and I have often stood 
 by and watched him with intense interest while thus 
 employed. On all those occasions he was invariably 
 accompanied and assisted by a little schoolboy a
 
 5 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 favourite son, or nephew, of his own, I forget which ; 
 and it was truly surprising to observe the workman- 
 ship executed the invaluable and substantial result 
 of the extraordinary methods and combined efforts of 
 this original pair ! 
 
 But, astonishing as these outside or professional 
 operations of this man were, his mechanical, scientific, 
 and other successes at home were even more so. He 
 had been all his life not a mere reader only, but a 
 voracious devourer, of books, magazines, and news- 
 papers of all kinds novels, politics, travels, histories, 
 and scientific works, <&c., in short, of all and of 
 everything that he could possibly or by hook or 
 crook buy, borrow, or in any way lay his eager 
 clutch upon. He was a keen polemic and political 
 partisan, a fluent, ornate, and pointed speaker if not 
 a born orator and could harangue you by the hour 
 in his native and expressive vernacular on any or all 
 of the burning topics or favourite heroes of the day. 
 He had made himself acquainted with far more than 
 the simple elements of astronomy, botany, and biology, 
 and was also deeply read in the geologic lore of his 
 time. His house was a singular combination of a 
 hind's cottage, a chemist's laboratory, a circulating 
 library, a millwright's workshop, and a scientific 
 museum a miscellaneous collection, exhibition, and 
 repository of plant, animal, and rock "specimens"; 
 tools, retorts, books, maps, instruments, and other 
 knick-knacks, too innumerable to mention. 
 
 His grand study and hobby, however, when I got 
 acquainted with him, were the (to him) attractive 
 problems and grand demonstrative experiments of 
 meteorology, or the " wauther science," in his own 
 parlance ; and in pursuit of these he had actually 
 constructed with his own hand all the appliances and 
 instruments named in the annexed rhyme. This 
 rhyme I wrote at his own earnest request, but for 
 reasons which I need not here allude to, it was never 
 before printed barring two or three of the last verses 
 The occasion of it was an intolerably cold, wet, and
 
 "AULDLEES." 51 
 
 evil year for farmers, whom he deeply commiserated, 
 and whom he longed to re-inspire with hope and to 
 incite and encourage to fresh efforts by his infallible 
 and brilliant " forecasts " of a bright time coming ! 
 
 The brother of this remarkable man was also a 
 mechanical genius in his way, and an ardent amateur 
 musician, and I once had in my hands a beautiful 
 fiddle he had made with his knife solely out of a 
 portion of a paling rail taken from a gap in a thorn 
 hedge. Both brothers have now "joined the majority," 
 leaving no sign, and for some time I have lost all trace 
 of the whereabouts of their surviving relatives. I now 
 append the full rhyme in order to illustrate and record 
 the indefatigable industry, ingenuity, and, I may add, 
 the admirable sagacity of this wonderful being. The 
 phrases and the substance of the verses placed within 
 inverted commas were mostly taken from his own lips. 
 
 " THE WAUTHEB." 
 
 "Auld Lees'" been tichtly "exerceesed" this while 
 
 about the " wauther," 
 That endless theme to ferm fowk o' deevilish frait and 
 
 bather ; 
 Sae in my noddle a' his pranks hae been conspiring 
 
 lang, 
 To clank me down an' ease mysel' wi' a bit blastie sang. 
 
 He kens a' kind " barometers " the Siphon ; Common 
 
 Wheel; 
 The Hermatic " puir man's wauther gless " that 
 
 never dis work weel ; 
 
 The touchy Sympiesometer, of " heedrogen an' ile " ; 
 An' mony a sic-like instrument owre fashious here 
 
 to style ! 
 
 Leeze me on hiz " thermometers " that tell o' cauld 
 
 an' heat 
 
 Hoo muckle or hoo little aye will gar ane grue or sweat ; 
 Or, wi' a meenit's feegurin', as owre the hills we stride, 
 Can tell 's their hichts, maist to an inch, abune the 
 
 dorian Tide !
 
 52 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 " Rain gauges," " spheres " to weigh the winds, an' 
 
 note hoo fast they blaw, 
 " Anemometers," " Hygrometers," " Electrometers " 
 
 braw ! 
 Maps, plates, an' grit " charts synchronous " o' storms 
 
 past an' to come, 
 An' learn'd gab ambiguous, their grand results to sum ! 
 
 He'll state hoo great the "pressure" is owre sich a 
 
 " wide area," 
 
 As Europe or America as 'twere his ain idea ; 
 And, wi' a visage grave as Job's, tell whaur at " 4 p.m. 
 The lift was blue, the sea was smooth, an' a'thing else 
 
 the same ! " 
 
 " Winds are the ae deerect result o' change o' temp'ra- 
 
 ture, 
 
 Whan air is hett it rises, like the steam o' toddy pure ! 
 Syne in to fill the vawcum sweep the gusts off every 
 
 neuk, 
 Just like oor hens at feedin' time when Ailie cries 
 
 ' chuck, chuck ! ' ' 
 
 Thus tells he in a jiffy the cause o' every storm, 
 
 But what's the cause o' that cause, alack ! wha can 
 
 inform ? 
 Here Lees' " profoondly ignorant," an' claws his heid 
 
 an' says 
 "The Wauther Clerk caps Beaconsfield in 's unexpected 
 
 ways ! 
 
 " The currents aikquatorial an' polar rise an' fa', 
 
 But why they dae sae, at sich times, I canna find ava ! 
 
 Before I e'en can guess that Why, far far'er maun I 
 
 peer 
 But I do trow the truth lies in the Northern Hemisphere ! 
 
 " This yearhashad a surfeit o' the tempests o' the warld 
 Canadian frosts an' Polar snows roond 's infant thrapple 
 swirled !
 
 "AULD LEES." 53 
 
 Syne Monsoons, Simoons, Tornadoes, an' Levanters 
 
 frae the east, 
 Wi' Boreal squalls 'tween coorses, have comprised his 
 
 constant feast ! 
 
 " Then mists, an' rain in deluges, have dozed an' 
 
 drench'd him weel ; 
 Pestiferous, deleterious blasts have pierced his bouk 
 
 like steel ; 
 Disastrous caulds an' arid gales have brocht him wreck 
 
 an' blicht 
 Till noo, like drug'd incurable, he'd fain succumb 
 
 ootricht ! 
 
 "Puir deevils are the farmers a' ! my heart loups to 
 
 my mou' 
 To hear them greet their sad dark state nae gleam o' 
 
 hope shines through ! 
 But they maun dicht their tears amain an' look Fate 
 
 in the face, 
 An daur her warst like Scottishmen to whom 
 
 despair's disgrace ! 
 
 " Let ' Almanacks ' an' ' Wauther Seers ' prognostic 
 
 ' evil days ' ! 
 
 Vile caterers to ignorance wha lie because it pays ! 
 Pass them a' by as knavish rants nane scans the 
 
 Wauther gleam 
 Beyond twa days for certain hoosoever wise they 
 
 seem ! 
 
 " Neither be o' hope forlorn, but frae this deid wa' o' 
 
 time 
 Streetch to pluck the golden fruitage, peerin' surely 
 
 thro' its grime ! 
 There are lessons, hung like signboards, that a little 
 
 child may read, 
 What your wants are where to fill them tho' 
 
 Necessity cry speed !
 
 54 RURAL RHYMES AND SKE7CHES. 
 
 "Then the mirk hour o' the present in immediate 
 
 time shall be 
 
 The prelude, birth, an' earnest o' restored prosperity ! 
 The overthrow o' Poortith grim maun aye forerun the 
 
 reign 
 0' the smiling prince his brither jovial Plenty, fat 
 
 and fain ! " 
 
 FAKE WEEL ! 
 
 (WRITTEN FOR A FRIEND LEAVING HAILES COTTAGE.) 
 
 WHITE, white lies the winter roun' the auld castle 
 
 wa', 
 
 An' ruin'd keep an' turret are wreath'd wi' the snaw, 
 As time draws near to lea' them, tho' but deid wa's 
 
 they be 
 Amid the snaws o' winter, they dearer grow to me ! 
 
 For they mind me o' langsyne, when in the dear old 
 days 
 
 1 ran a thochtless lassie o'er Tyne's sweet banks an' 
 
 braes, 
 An' roun' an' roun' the Castle, like bairn roun 's mither's 
 
 knee, 
 I grew up, little dreaming how dear it was to me ! 
 
 Here I a maid was courted was wooed an' wed an' a', 
 Here a' the bairns were born, an' ane was ta'en awa', 
 Here we've been lang sae happy the bairns, gudeman, 
 
 an' me 
 It hurts like death to think o', this parting that maun 
 
 be! 
 
 Never again, never to ca' this hoose our hame ! 
 Never again, never this auld fireside to claim ! 
 Thro' a' the lang years coming the strangers' place 
 
 'twill be, 
 When we are gane for ever the bairns, gudeman, an' 
 
 me!
 
 FARE WE EL! 55 
 
 The bairns they cling to mither, the gudeman downa 
 
 speak, 
 I cheery-like tend to them when my heart 's like to 
 
 break 
 An' frae this ben-room window, when nae ane 's bye to 
 
 see 
 What longing looks I 'm taking o' the auld countrie ! 
 
 Ah ! wae is me, thou robin that singest by the door ! 
 Ae waefti' lilt o' sorrow is a' thy birdie's store, 
 A wail for bygane simmer that soon returns to thee ; 
 But our bonnie auld hame ne'er can time gi'e back 
 to me ! 
 
 To say "Fareweel for ever," ye bonnie banks an' 
 
 braes ! 
 
 An' fare ye weel, Tyne river, that I 've loved a' my days ! 
 Fareweel Traprain an' Kippie ! fareweel the dear auld 
 
 Mill, 
 The brig across the water, the fit-road up the hill ! 
 
 But we a' maun say "fareweel" on earth we canna 
 
 stay; 
 " Fareweel !" " fareweel !" " fareweel !" day cryeth 
 
 unto day ! 
 
 The warld is wide an' wearie, an' hard is life, I trew 
 A touch, a turn of fortune the auld is changed to neio / 
 
 But oh ! my heart is dowie, sae weel it lo'ed this nest, 
 
 An' a' its ties asunder this flicht to rive at last ! 
 
 But take this flicht it maun, nor spurn at Fate's 
 
 decree, 
 An' gae seek anither hame in a strange countrie !
 
 56 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 THE AGRICULTURAL DEPRESSION. 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO A LANDLORD. 
 
 PEACE, weal, an' wealth, an' length o' days, 
 
 Wi' leal Scots love an' honour, 
 Combine an' bring a' happiness, 
 
 Your lordship o' the manor ! 
 Excuse this blaud, tho' poor always, 
 
 And all obscure its donor, 
 His rustic Musie pleads an' prays, 
 
 Ye 'd ne'er for this disown her. 
 
 (Her screed 's nae threat'ning missive sent 
 
 By Parnell-fired Hibernian, 
 To shore ye death as punishment 
 
 For drawing rents agrarian : 
 Scotch to the core ! nae compliment 
 
 Gin she lilts "sense" unvaryin', 
 And relegates the violent 
 
 To Fenian an' barbarian ! 
 
 But noo, my lord, she 'd fain ye 'd ken 
 
 She 's dounricht sair distressit ; 
 Her wut in degrees aucht or ten 
 
 'Neath zero I should guess it ; 
 In truth ! the drap ink in her pen 
 
 Seems frozen wi' distress o't, 
 An' sair she dreads her parl'd brain 
 
 This yarn will mak' a mess o 't.) 
 
 Sin' ere the Seeventy-an'-Yin, 
 
 The seasons hae been vexin', 
 Till, waur an' waur, this Seeventy-Nine 
 
 Has grown past a' perplexin'. 
 What 's to be dune 1 this noddle mine, 
 
 Baith late an' ear' I 'm axin', 
 But less the answer I divine 
 
 The mair my wuts I 'm taxin'.
 
 THE AGRICULTURAL DEPRESSION. 57 
 
 That wizard fire-king, Gladstone, says 
 
 We gowks maun change oor Premier, 
 An' set him in our midst to blaze 
 
 The grand politic streamer ; 
 Then shall he lichten a' the ways 
 
 0' each puir nichted dreamer, 
 Ail' lure him on to happiest days 
 
 Wi' his far-glancin' glimmer ! 
 
 Cumbrous restraints frae tacks he '11 weed, 
 
 An' root out auld hypothec ; 
 Entail, an' a' the land law breed 
 
 That plague us waur than toothache ! 
 An' compensation grant, indeed, 
 
 T' Improvements tho' sown shoe thick, 
 An' gie to land, like grub, free-trade, 
 
 So 's a' may buy an' plough quick ! 
 
 When furth o' Downing Street he 's clear'd 
 
 The Tories as his mode his ! 
 He '11 thoosands turn to peasant lairds, 
 
 Wha noo are dyvour bodies ; 
 Puir groanin' owners o' stackyards, 
 
 Whaur scarce a donkey's load is, 
 0' oucht kind grain that isna' wair'd 
 
 On factors, duns, an' toadies. 
 
 When he gets through, my lord, sure then 
 
 We '11 laugh the Euss an' Yankee : 
 They may as weel as us cry " hain ! " 
 
 The rocks o' Killiecrankie ! 
 A fair field gie to Scottish men, 
 
 Your favour keep an' thank ye ; 
 An' gif they downa stand their ain, 
 
 The di'el plays them a pranky ! 
 
 But, oh ! my noble lord and chief, 
 
 What will or then betide us ] 
 The crisis, like a midnight thief, 
 
 Is in the bed astride us !
 
 58 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 That foreign rung in 's neive is prief 
 
 Destruction maun abide us, 
 If landlord mercy some relief 
 
 Dis not aff-hand provide us ! 
 
 In common times 'twad men degrade 
 
 To hint or crave abatement; 
 That they should 'bide their bargains made, 
 
 Is truest doctrine's statement. 
 But there are pits in ev'ry trade, 
 
 And some that seem by fate meant, 
 To swallow whole the best rules laid 
 
 For trade's true honest treatment. 
 
 An' this is ane, my lord, the noo 
 
 The pitfa' term'd " Depression ; " 
 An ugly, black quagmire to view, 
 
 But uglier to play clash in ! 
 Yet heid an' lugs, a droonin' crew, 
 
 This bog the farmers splash in ; 
 Some hope the strong may struggle thro', 
 
 But sinkin' here 's the fashion. 
 
 Hear, then, my lord, your bard's appeal ! 
 
 Exceptional our straight is ; 
 So, in the way ye ken sae weel ; 
 
 Exceptional grace do mete us ! 
 A chieftain let your people feel, 
 
 Tho' high o'er theirs your state is, 
 To meanest clansman's woe an' weal 
 
 Your chieftain's heart elate is. 
 
 Eemember in your castle ha', 
 
 Whaur never poortith dare look, 
 When in your princely rents ye draw, 
 
 What a' they cost your puir folk ! 
 In simmer's sun an' winter's snaw, 
 
 For duds an' brose a queer lock, 
 They toil'd in hundreds, grit an' sma', 
 
 To heap your burstin' gear-pock !
 
 WklTTEtf ON A BE A UTIFUL OCTOBER DA Y. 59 
 
 Abridgement o' a half-year's rent 
 
 Should scarce suffice to ease us ; 
 For not e'en three times ten per cent. 
 
 Discounted, would release us ! 
 It seems to Sam, then, what we want, 
 
 An' in lang-run would please us, 
 Is to revalue by consent, 
 
 An' tak' what justice gi'es us. 
 
 Choose each a fittin' arbiter, 
 
 The Shirra he another, 
 An' let them fix a rent that 's fair 
 
 Withoot mair bosh or bother ! 
 This wad mak' a' oor jealous stir 
 
 In mutual goodwill smother, 
 An' laird an' tenant hand an' fur 
 
 Like twa staigs pull together. 
 
 Fareweel, my lord ! this humble strain 
 
 In its ain spirit tak' it, 
 Judge not its counsel wi' disdain 
 
 Because a clod-poll spak' it ; 
 But, whether by you scorn'd or ta'en, 
 
 Till some ane better mak' it, 
 The feck o' fowk this time again 
 
 Will side wi' Mucklebackit ! 
 
 WEITTEN ON A BEAUTIFUL OCTOBEK DAY. 
 
 How mystic, mild, an' meek seems this wondrous 
 harvest time, 
 
 When life an' death do meet at the turning o' the 
 clime ; 
 
 An' between them, lyart-mantled, wi' her patient mien 
 an' sweet, 
 
 Autumn comes to throw her off'ring at their never- 
 resting feet !
 
 60 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Fruitful matron ! heir an' parent o' the wondrous 
 annual round ! 
 
 In thy calm an' grey-eyed glances heameth wisdom 
 forth profound ; 
 
 In thy ruddy placid visage true beneficence is seen, 
 
 Care an' love for every creature open-handed, god- 
 like queen ! 
 
 'Twixt the yokes o' anxious labour either side en- 
 tangling me, 
 
 In an awe o' gratitude do I pause an' gaze on thee ; 
 
 In the thicket o' my toils this meal-hour is as a loan, 
 
 Or an open in a forest, thro' which spacious Heaven 
 is shown ! 
 
 Thou wi' fading leaves are buskit but the berries 
 cluster red, 
 
 Whare the mellow licht encircles, like a crimson band, 
 thy head ! 
 
 In the purple hazy distance streams thy wonder- 
 woven robe 
 
 Countless hues o' green and russet to the gleaming 
 azure throb ! 
 
 But, fareweel, for ev'n thou fleetest, gorgeous queen 
 
 an' bountiful ; 
 Soon thy throne another filleth of a sterner law an' 
 
 rule ; 
 Even now I hear him rousing as thy flashing glories 
 
 wane, 
 May thy garner all suffice us, till thou heapest it again ! 
 
 AULD Charlie 's deid, his yokin 's out 
 I've kenn'd him sin' he was a cowte 
 A nobler nag, a faithfu'er servan' 
 Yearth' ne'er bure, nor mair deservin' !
 
 A LA ME XT FOR AULD CHARLIE. 61 
 
 His lineage was obscure, Town 
 A sort o' cross-bred Octoroon 
 Frae nearest blood-royal pedigree 
 Eemoved even to the aucht degree ; 
 But in himsel' were gather'd neat 
 The virtues o' a' breeds complete ! 
 And, sure, 'bune either looks or birth, 
 Even in horse flesh, ranks Moral Worth ? 
 An' this was Charlie's greatest " point " 
 Gude nature, mense, an' " wut " conjoint ! 
 In him dwelt neither wrath nor guile, 
 But leal desire to serve an' toil. 
 He wadna cruik'd a limb to harm, 
 Nor, kennin', trampit on a worm ! 
 A cannier beast does no' survive him 
 He loot oor wee-est callant drive him. 
 Oh, proud as gipsy king on 's cuddy, 
 How aft he rode him to the smiddy, 
 An' felt when cockit upo' his mane 
 As safe as mammy's cradled wean ! 
 An' then ye couldna fit him wrang 
 In whatna yoke ye bade him gang 
 Following or leadin', hand or fur, 
 Just what ye wish'd he'd ne'er demur, 
 But, bricht an' ready, lithe an' free, 
 Gin ye were pleased, content was he ! 
 Tho' but a " draught horse " was his end, 
 Yet his great virtue did transcend 
 His fate ; say aftimes of a Sunday 
 A spankin' gig-hack, groom'd an' dandy, 
 Thro' foul an' fair, mid-day or mirk, 
 Was he seen, to an' frae the kirk 
 Hurlin' his maisters wi' a birr 
 That gart the sooplest " roadster " stir ! 
 But now thou'rt deid, my peerless nag, 
 Sma' need is thine o' praise or brag ; 
 Thy noble life I'se ne'er forget, 
 But in fond heart thy memory set. 
 And it is much, tho' deid in truth, 
 To have inspired this love an' ruth,
 
 62 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 An' deep regard an' grief for thee, 
 
 Even in this sad extremity. 
 
 Only a horse a brute thou w'ast, 
 
 But did stern justice mete at last 
 
 Deserving dues to nags an' men, 
 
 How Avere the tables turn'd then ! 
 
 Some hautle o' our human kin', 
 
 I wot, would have to change wi' thine ; 
 
 An' the true "brute" would then be seen 
 
 Too often in man's shape, I ween ! 
 
 THE KNOX MEMORIAL. 
 
 SONG WRITTEN FOR, AND SUNG AT, THE PUBLIC CONCERT 
 HELD IN AID OP THE FUNDS OF THE INSTITUTION. 
 
 YE wha reck our Scottish name 
 
 Fit wi' the warld's first to ally ! 
 Match wi' thy gift that cherish'd fame, 
 
 An' round our Knox Memorial rally ! 
 Our kindly plans, as Scotland scans, 
 
 Auld memories crowd thick upon her ; 
 Wi' gleamin' e'e, her children free 
 
 She points her Knox for dearest honour ! 
 
 There Eesby, Craw, an' Hamilton, 
 
 An' seer-like Wishart daunted never ! 
 Were in her glorious cause struck down, 
 
 An' wear their martyr crowns for ever ! 
 But he wha came wi' noblest aim 
 
 An' crowned their wark wi' highest glory, 
 Has no' a stane, for a' our gain, 
 
 In his loved land to tell his story ! 
 
 But hark ye, Scots ! it shall not be ! 
 
 Scotland's leal in heart, tho' boreal ! 
 Tho' maybe late, we'll surely see 
 
 A gratefu' country 's Knox Memorial !
 
 THE KNOX MEMORIAL. 63 
 
 That day come soon ! his native toon 
 Her Lamp o' Lothian burnin' brighter ! 
 
 May woo Tyneside wi' leesome pride, 
 An' daur the envious warld to wyte her ! 
 
 For weel ye trow his " cairn " shall be 
 
 Nae feckless monumental ruckle, 
 But ane great schule o' learnin' free 
 
 To whilk our deftest lads may buckle ; 
 Where ane an' a', baith puir an' braw, 
 
 May pluck the tree o' amplest knowledge, 
 Or at the door, for little store, 
 
 Plume their young wings for highest college ! 
 
 Then rally, rally round our flag ! 
 
 Nae Scot sae dowie he may rally ! 
 An' somewhat aid, tho' 's means may lag, 
 
 Will pruve him to the warld our ally ! 
 Lang life an' power to young Balfour ! 
 
 Honour to Scott, an' years to wear it ! 
 An' eke each name we proudly claim, 
 
 Posterity will yet revere it ! 
 
 Then rally, rally ! ye Scots ! 
 
 Oh, what is warld's gear to honour 1 
 Come wi' your placks, your croons, your notes ! 
 
 Throw aff ingratitude wi' scunner ! 
 Was not John Knox ye heedless folks 
 
 The maker o' the weal ye thrive in ? 
 An' can ye now mair wisely show 
 
 Your thanks than aid the scheme we strive in 1 
 
 This ancient burgh, Haddington, 
 
 Wi' royal charter, rights, an' laws still, 
 That gave us Scotia's noblest son, 
 
 Maun keep the lead in freedom's cause still! 
 Nae faint turncoat our auld grey Goat ! 
 
 She '11 ever to the age conform her ! 
 Sae now her cry " Let faction die, 
 
 And honour'd be our great Eeformer ! "
 
 64 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 THE AULD TOUK 
 
 (WRITTEN IN SICKNESS ON THE SHORE OP LAKE HURON, 
 NORTH AMERICA.) 
 
 A' ROUND about the auld toun, 
 
 Whaur I ran happy years agone ; 
 weal befa' the auld toon, 
 
 An' ne'er ae ill licht doun upon ! 
 There blythely by the green Tyneside 
 
 My early time wing'd fleet awa' 
 A wild, gay loon, whase dearest pride 
 Was aye the bauldest deed to shaw ; 
 For of a valiant youthfu' band 
 I was the chosen king to be, 
 And, troth, wha dar'd my sway withstand, 
 He rued his bald temeritie. 
 
 Oh ! blessings on the auld toun, 
 And never sorrow fa' thereon ! 
 For round about the auld toon 
 
 Dwalt a' that's dear this world upon. 
 We were a couthie household bien 
 
 Sisters and billies sma' an' grown ; 
 But time our roost has harried clean, 
 
 An' far an' wide the nestlin's strewn ; 
 An' Death, Man's hunter, wi' his bow 
 
 Has sped some deft- wing'd shafts amaug's 
 The " mother " an' five " bairns " lie low, 
 Like wee birds drapt frae falcon's fangs ! 
 
 A' round about the auld toun 
 
 Be fairest Nature's mantle thrown ! 
 An' sunny peace the auld toun 
 
 Smile aye wi' growing love upon ! 
 She slumbers by Ty_ne's sorrowing wave 
 
 Wha once could love sae tenderly ; 
 She moulders in her early grave 
 Wha ance gave a' that love to me ;
 
 "JAMIE THE JOITER." 65 
 
 Oh lassie ! by the green Tyneside 
 
 Nae mair such raptures thrill again ! 
 The gloaming comes but us divide 
 
 Baith hopeless death an' boundless main ! 
 
 Ye Powers ! enfauld the auld toun, 
 
 And, for her kindred sake alone, 
 
 Bright spirits ! ward the auld toun 
 
 An' ne'er ae ill lat licht upon ! 
 My hapless lassie ! earth looks bleak 
 An' life is driech an' hard to dree ; 
 The hungering heart had rather break 
 
 Than knowing thus an' craving thee. 
 Oh, dearest Jean ! what eerie close 
 
 Is this for yon bright life we drew ! 
 Thou in thy lone grave dost repose 
 I drift like dust life's mazes through ! 
 
 "JAMIE THE JOITER."* 
 
 HAS ye ne'er heard, man, o' Jamie the joiter ? 
 It's hae ye ne'er heard, man, o' Jamie the joiter 1 
 Wha drank a' his siller, syne Fortune did wyte her, 
 For the mony mischances o' Jamie the joiter ! 
 
 A jack o' a' trades, man, when sober a day, 
 He wad men' for a neebor a stool or a shae ; 
 Or set the clock tickin' when a' cures wad fail 
 Mak' trocks for the bairnies, or spin them a tale. 
 
 At this time, oor doctor a Nabob teuk ill, 
 An' wi' drinkin' his drogs, himsel' sune did kill, 
 Sae his widow, dementit wi' grief or wi' gear, 
 An' teetotal crazy, for Jamie 'gan speer. 
 
 Wi 's best Sunday sark on, an' face weeshin clean, 
 Joit'rin' Jamie laid siege to the Nabob's fair queen ; 
 * A ne'er-do-weel.
 
 66 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 An' the en' o' the twalmonth let Wit nane deride ! 
 Saw the " joiter " Guid Templar ! the widow braw bride ! 
 
 The maister an' laird o' a grand mailin noo, 
 Jamie's cast aff the auld man an' ta'en on the new ; 
 But the daft days he minds aye, an' John Barley bree, 
 An' pity his heart rends a drunkard tae see ! 
 
 hae ye ne'er heard, man, o' Jamie the joiter 1 
 It's hae ye ne'er heard, man, o' Jamie the joiter? 
 Wha won the rich widow, an' now stars it brighter 
 Than the fules that a' laugh'd ance at Jamie the joiter ! 
 
 A EEPLY TO A PLEA FOE CEEMATION." 
 
 (LINES SUGGESTED BY READING VERSES ON " CREMATION," 
 BY THE REV. DR WHITELAW.) 
 
 " WELL hast thou shown, my gifted friend," 
 Thy meet desire by fire to end ! 
 For that thou should'st anticipate 
 The general doom man's future fate 
 Is just what I would have expected, 
 Who long thy genius hast respected ! 
 Yet still, my gifted friend and seer, 
 I pray the Fates thy wish sincere, 
 To be burn'd up alive or dead 
 May not be granted with fell speed ! 
 But thou may'st 'scape for many a year yet 
 The " fire-car" body, head, and spirit ! 
 To bless and gratify us long 
 With many a sermon, book, and song, 
 Ere to the chauldron thou art turn'd 
 Into some white ash to be burned ! 
 
 Thy reason that as from fire proceed 
 All things whatever quick or dead 
 Seems rather far-fetched that therefore, 
 We straight should bar the kirkyard door
 
 A REPLY TO "A PLEA FOR CREMA TION. " 67 
 
 Against the sexton, and the pack 
 Of dingy " undertakers " black, 
 By emulating Mary's fame 
 Consigning young and old to flame ! 
 Kindling the monstrous human pyre 
 In some back alley, barn, or byre, 
 And thrusting thither, in a box 
 Fired to a white heat till it smokes 
 A brother, sister, parent, friend ! 
 Like divine Shelley at whose end, 
 On that fair shore of Spezia's Bay, 
 Byron saw in blue flame melt away 
 Frame of the most ethereal mind 
 That ever linked with human kind, 
 And sicken'd in his soul to see, 
 The dread, infernal tragedy ! 
 
 Again, wherever most abounds 
 Thy fav'rite element in the rounds 
 And zones and climes of tropic heat 
 (Which, thou sing'st strangely, 'neath our feet 
 Old Mother Nature keep'st in store 
 Ready, as she wants less or more !) 
 There thou discover' st all that 's great 
 In the wide field of man's estate ; 
 There bigots, blackguards, despots, rage 
 Like starving lions in a cage ; 
 There are the rack, the wheel, the hook, 
 And other toys we overlook ; 
 There frowns the lover in fine style 
 When faithless maiden stirs his bile ; 
 And ere he tramps her to the death, 
 In the heroic way thou saith ; 
 There, too, upon her funeral pile 
 Jumps up the widow with a smile ! 
 Disdaining, in extreme of joy, 
 " Even to mourn her orphan' d boy /" 
 
 Well, well ! The Lord I gladly praise, 
 If in the north such deeds as these
 
 68 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 We vainly search for; but, I fear, 
 Even in this icy hemisphere, 
 Whether of Saxon, Dane, or Gael, 
 Our annals tell as bad a tale ; 
 Nay, even in times contemporaneous, 
 We see our records miscellaneous, 
 Teem daily with a mass of crime, 
 As hellish as of any clime 
 Beloved by Sol the god of fire 
 As any Christian should desire ? 
 
 Mayhap we cannot boast those "rare 
 Stern virtues," which, in lands more fair, 
 Do " bloom as in a heavenly air." 
 What then ? sure that 's no reason why 
 Our friends should burn us when we die ! 
 If 'tis our climate's fault, it seems 
 Bad taste, that we, by those same beams 
 We sadly lack'd in life, should be 
 At death, despatched so terribly ! 
 
 But seriously ; Down from thy "Manse" 
 Look not, my brother, so askance ; 
 Love thou the tombs more tenderly, 
 And view them with untroubled eye ! 
 They are the spots, of all the earth, 
 Most sacred. Altar, home, or hearth, 
 Or battlefield where Liberty, 
 Thro' war's riv'n clouds, hail'd Scotland free, 
 Have not such influence to enthrall 
 Or draw thought to them, as withal 
 Those green and silent mounds possess 
 Down through all life's mysteriousness ! 
 
 Then, cherish still yon " Auld Kirkyard," 
 Its tear-bedewed and love-press'd sward ; 
 Its hallow'd memories revere 
 With reverent soul and heart sincere ! 
 Care nothing for its rayless gloom 
 Thy soul shall never know the tomb !
 
 MORHAM DELL. 69 
 
 Turn not from it in coward fear, 
 
 But trust it more as death draws near ! 
 
 Invoke no visions of crossbones, 
 
 Death's heads, or worms beneath its stones ; 
 
 But look upon " God's Acre " as 
 
 His screen through which to Him we pass ! 
 
 The bed where we lie down a-weary 
 
 Of tumult vain and sorrow dreary, 
 
 To wake above, renew'd for aye, 
 
 The heirs of everlasting day ! 
 
 MOEHAM DELL. 
 
 Whan Mcht had closed the Day's ae e'e, 
 
 Awatchin' the yowes, sleep found out me ! 
 
 An' I laid me doun on the clover-land, 
 
 Like wrack on an unkenn'd ocean strand. 
 
 " Sweet Morham Dell ! sweet Morham Dell ! 
 
 Fairies an' moonshine love thee well," 
 
 Sang a wee voice as there I lay 
 
 An' again, unto me in its winsome way : 
 
 " Sleep no more, dream no more hearken to me 
 
 Fair Queen Mab, 'neath ane rowan tree, 
 
 Low, low lies in pale sickness laid ; 
 
 We go to bring her Leech with our cavalcade." 
 
 Then up sough 'd a night wind, strong an' shrill, 
 
 To waft me atower yon eerie hill 
 
 Whar Auld Garvie bursts its broken way 
 
 Doun Snawdon's lanely Howe astray. 
 
 1 thocht o' the Leech as on I sped 
 
 Ane auld Warlock, gray and staid, 
 
 Wha wins by himsel' in a rocky cave, 
 
 Whilk, when he dies, will be his grave. 
 
 In an eerie den atween twa linns 
 
 O' the Garvie, this warlock wins 
 
 Bearded an' rough of antique line 
 
 On '& shoonless shins, three feet an' nine.
 
 70 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 " warlock o' the Snawdon Howe ! " 
 
 The elfins cried, 
 " Leech o' the fairies ever thou, 
 
 Trusty and tried ; 
 
 Haste thee, haste thee, Warlock, haste ! 
 Steer up, pack up pottle and paste, 
 E'en o'er the swaird o' Morham Dale 
 Lies our Ladye stricken an' pale. 
 
 haste ! 
 
 Convoy and all is ready and made 
 For thee in our royal cavalcade." 
 Bugles sound ! 
 First, then, in the multitude 
 Kode the grave Leech in high mood ; 
 Then a fairy maiden came, 
 In white locks of elfin fame 
 Pure of heart, tho' queen-like she 
 Driving in her coach an' three. 
 By her side, of royal mien, 
 Consort o' the sickly queen 
 Charged on Afric Cat whose eyes 
 Burn'd like stars in frosty skies. 
 Then, lo ! the musicianers 
 Mat ! a glorious band is hers 
 Horn on high, so sweet and clear, 
 Starnies droopt half way to hear. 
 They play'd ane fairy burial pcean, 
 Till old Night did sigh again ; 
 Then an imp-like, ouphish ditty, 
 Made the vera Leech grow witty. 
 I leuch 
 
 For the very air did quiver 
 Round them, over them, and ever, 
 Till they a' passed but Ane, and he 
 Dash'd his fire-tail in mine e'e ! 
 " Therefore ! " quo he, an' flew on, 
 Leaving me to grieve an' groan : 
 O'er me stoopt ('twas a' in sleep), 
 An' lickit my face my Southdown sheep !
 
 ON ' ' CREMA TIOJV." ^ \ 
 
 ON "CKEMATION." 
 (BEING AN EPISTLE TO A RETIRED DOMINIE.) 
 
 COME ! yet yaul Thomas, len 's yer lug, 
 Whyles I a friendly neb an' mug 
 In its grim portals deftly plug, 
 
 Sans botheration ; 
 An' a' this tale unravel rugg 
 
 Anent " Cremation." 
 
 This age materialistic whilk 
 Developed prime a Mill an' Dilke ; 
 Deems little but sour kirn milk 
 
 Your auld warld lear' ; 
 Her mental kine o' Savan bulk 
 
 Crave richer fare. 
 
 So " free-thought " horn'd, these later bulls, 
 Wha reive auld Nature to the hools ; 
 In pastures new, wi' " laws " an' " rules," 
 
 Assault the moon 
 Tracin' shrewdly fathership o' fools 
 
 To a baboon. 
 
 Thus follows it, as wrack frae wind, 
 (Effect its cause comes slap behind), 
 These sages, " meek " with pride of mind, 
 
 Sing out " Behold ! 
 Burial, this day, doth Science find 
 
 Is waste untold ! " 
 
 " Science," at length declares, alas ! 
 Water, carbonic acid gas, 
 Ammonia, an' a little ase, 
 
 We a' maun be ! 
 As food o' plants kail-stocks or grass 
 
 After we dee ?
 
 72 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 And, strange to say, the way to do 't 
 Is burnin' ! burnin' tail an' cloot 
 No as they did auld witches but 
 
 In pats or pans, 
 Fried to a cinder when red hot 
 
 Like herrin' rans ! 
 
 Then fareweel, Tarn, oor auld kirkyaird, 
 Its tear-bedewed an' bonnie swaird ! 
 Its tender memories revered 
 
 Wrench frae oor hearts ; 
 Syne a' the rest we'se be nae fear'd 
 
 To play oor parts. 
 
 Oh ! Tarn, auld Tarn ! gie me yer loof ; 
 Age on yer pow now snaws sad proof, 
 An' what o" life for yer behoof 
 
 A dwindling shair'd 
 Is only left ! e'en just enough 
 
 To say ye 're " spared ! " 
 
 D 'ye think, auld Tammas, when ye dee 
 (As dee ye maun next week, may be) 
 That ye 'd prefer yer friends tae see 
 
 Ye buried decent ? 
 Or that the crabbit dominie 
 
 Should bleeze a crescent ? 
 
 If that the latter, mak' ye sure 
 That at yer burnin' will be there 
 Fu' mony a lad ye skelpit sair 
 
 To show respeck, 
 Smilin', as lowes ascend in air, 
 
 To hear ye crack ! 
 
 But mirth aside, I doot this dream 
 Is jimp fit metal for my whim ; 
 Tho' serious hardly I can deem 
 
 The ghafetly question 
 An' muckle jalouse 'tis a theme 
 
 To crack a jest on.
 
 JE ANTE'S FAREWEEL, 73 
 
 JEANTE'S FAEEWEEL. 
 
 FAREWEEL, thou "bonnie Auld Hailes, 
 An' a' thy broomy knowes sae fair; 
 
 I'm broken doon in misery, 
 
 To say " Fareweel for evermair." 
 
 Oh, had this warld a warld been, 
 
 Whare justice aye stood virtue's freen', 
 
 This weary day I hadna seen, 
 
 Nor my heart pang'd sae fu' o' care. 
 
 Fareweel, thou Castle auld wa's, 
 Whare Tyne sae fondly lingers bye, 
 
 In 's boosom proudly cherishing 
 Thy hoary shadow, braid an' high. 
 
 As in the stream sae faithfully 
 
 Thy ruin deep below we see, 
 
 Sae true thy cherish'd memory 
 In my leal heart shall never die ! 
 
 Fareweel, thou blooming hawthorn, 
 Whare my dear laddie trysted me, 
 When blackbirds sweetly chirrupit 
 To greet the e'ening star on hie ! 
 Nae mair thou blooming thorn, nae mair 
 Will I to thy sweet shade repair, 
 To meet my gentle laddie there 
 But wander to a far countrie. 
 
 Sae fareweel, bonnie Auld Hailes, 
 
 Amang thy broomy knowes sae fair, 
 An' sauch an' hawthorn blossoming 
 
 Fareweel, fareweel, for evermair ! 
 The little birds on restive wing 
 Tak' up the strain, an' seem to sing, 
 " Oor Jeanie 's gaun awa', puir thing 
 Fareweel, fareweel, for evermair ! "
 
 74 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 WINTRY WIND. 
 
 DREAR, wintry wind, that mournest long with me ; 
 
 Still, melancholy hours as, all alone, 
 
 Here, inland, in the long sad solemn nights 
 
 Over the rural hearth, my froward tears 
 
 Flow for the dead that once were dear to me. 
 
 Deep in thy hollow voice I hear a name, 
 
 Wind ! Death ! as I did hear it once 
 When from her chamber came all pale and dread, 
 As brushed with Azrael's wings, one knowing all, 
 Telling her death Oh ! double death to me. 
 
 Wind ! moaning wind Oh, unspeakably true 
 Thou callest up the hours that come no more, 
 The faces of our youth thine, Mary, thine, 
 And chiefest in thy pallor and thy pain, 
 When told t'was death, thou gazedst upon me. 
 
 Blow, Winter, blow, the Spring can come no more, 
 No flowers and trees nor the green earth be clad, 
 Larks sing at morn, nor joy for man and beast 
 Ere meet them in the fields : all earth is dead, 
 To me is dead and Mary dead to me. 
 
 Come, moaning wind, and winter drear and bare 
 
 1 call thee while aught love in me remain ; 
 All times and else but mock my sorrow deep, 
 The stricken wild bird seeks the forest's gloom 
 Thus darkest Nature for my woe and me. 
 
 ADVENTURES OF JOHN HOOTSMAN, 
 YEOMAN, AT GIFFORD FAIR. 
 
 SHOWING HOW EASY A GOOD BARGAIN CAN BE MADE. 
 
 BEHOLD ! glorious countrymen, 
 That love old Scotland blue, 
 
 This hist'ry of her yeoman son 
 John Hootsman, bold and true.
 
 ADVENTURES OF JOHN HOOTSMAN. 75 
 
 With tramping over turnip drills 
 
 The fly had eaten bare, 
 John Hootsman's mind and body too 
 
 Were racked with pain and care. 
 
 Says he, " This world is made for all 
 
 Why not give John his share ? 
 My hat, my spurs, and ash-tree, wife, 
 
 I'm bound for Gifford Fair ! " 
 
 Soon through the crowd he shoves his way, 
 
 And freely doth perspire ; 
 A word with this a chat with that 
 
 At friendship's glowing fire. 
 
 Up rolls a burly gentleman 
 
 (A great horse-coper he) 
 " I've seen your horse I'll swap your horse 
 
 Good man, come deal with me." 
 
 Now, John he knew his own good Floe 
 
 Was not perfection's self ; 
 A trick she had to toss her tail 
 
 In spite, the wicked elf. 
 
 " Run out your nag, my gallant friend, 
 
 No haggling here with me ! " 
 Crack goes the whip forth bounds the nag 
 
 A cheery sight to see. 
 
 Each tooth and foot then seen or felt, 
 
 John rubs his brow and winks ; 
 " 'Tis just the thing for Belton Sands," 
 
 To his own self he thinks. 
 
 Just ten pounds boot and poor old Floe 
 
 Was never bargain seen ! 
 Re drinks the whole world's health around 
 
 With heart that holds no spleen.
 
 76 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 But evening comes with dewy eyes 
 
 To weep the dying day, 
 And distant homes with tender ties 
 
 Draw all his friends away. 
 
 " My horse ! " cries John, in stable yard, 
 " My brave new horse ! " quoth he ; 
 
 " And here's for you, my laughing groom," 
 That mounts the saddle tree. 
 
 The fiery steed tossed up its ears, 
 
 And widening nostrils, so ; 
 John, fearless, pricked him with both spurs, 
 
 In hopes to make him go. 
 
 But budge he would not from the spot ; 
 
 Last, John got off and led 
 Him through the town and up the loan, 
 
 Till " I am done ! " he said. 
 
 Remounts (for firm undaunted heart 
 
 Is born of merry cheer) 
 The trembling brute, 'neath such a weight, 
 
 Goes staggering off through fear. 
 
 With many a halt they jolt along 
 
 In right good pace and slow, 
 But when they reached John's marsh ground gate 
 
 No farther would he go. 
 
 John op'ed his eyes for, shame to say, 
 
 Sleep did o'er them prevail 
 And, looking back, in wonder saw 
 
 His steed had lost its tail ! 
 
 A fit of frailty held the nag 
 
 It shook from head to flank 
 Then, 'neath John's bulk, for weariness, 
 
 Down on the highway sank.
 
 B Y MY NA TIVE S TREAM. ^ 7 
 
 And now comes forth his wicked groom, 
 
 And near with laughter dies 
 To see his master sprawling there 
 
 And hugging such a prize. 
 
 " My master, mine, I'm glad to see 
 
 Old PENSIONER again ! 
 He strayed last night straight off the march, 
 
 Though not to stray he 's fain. 
 
 And Floe came home Oh ! hours ago 
 
 A rider strange she found 
 A Christian for a soul, I'm sure 
 
 He left me these ten pound ! " 
 
 " Quick, hand me these ! " cried yeoman John ; 
 
 " Thou lying thief, unhand ! 
 Confess thy sin or breast the ground 
 
 This moment, where you stand ! " 
 
 " I clean my heart 'tis none of mine 
 
 But of two yeomen bold 
 Who did this trick for foolery, 
 
 For one you played of old ! " 
 
 BY MY NATIVE STEEAM. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Lo ! by the auld grey castle wa's 
 
 Art wending on, 
 Where the martin flits as the e'ening fa's, 
 
 As in years bygone 
 Soft an' low, fleet an' flow, 
 Awa', awa'. 
 
 The stars licht up, as in a dream, 
 
 Auld castled Hailes ; 
 While o'er thy tide my native stream, 
 
 The owl still wails, 
 Weird an' shrill, abune the mill 
 
 "Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!"
 
 78 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 And the ouzel, the craik, and the sedge-singer 
 
 Sing echo forth ; 
 An' the " witching hour," griping night's finger, 
 
 Stalks through the north, 
 Wi' blank red een, an' wild sick mien 
 Ghaistly, ghaistly. 
 
 Ower the auld " strength," like a risen wight, 
 
 A solitary daw 
 Darkles a moment in the starlight, 
 
 An' flits awa' 
 
 Laughs drear an' clear, the auld mill weir, 
 " Awa', awa'." 
 
 The same as thou didst ever be, 
 
 My native stream ; 
 The same yet ; oh, the same to me 
 
 Nevermore seem ; 
 
 To the world's breast the auld snake 's prest 
 Evil an' care. 
 
 DAY. 
 
 The wagtail an' lone heron ward 
 
 Thy lonely ways ; 
 An' the cushat croods her fond regard 
 
 To the dreaming braes ; 
 
 When the gloaming broods owre the misty woods 
 Waning, waning. 
 
 Sunlight an' shadow guard thee, 
 
 Like waited bride : 
 An' the brown spate makes thee grand to see 
 
 Koll on in pride ; 
 
 But gane, dear stream, the grand boy dream 
 Awa', awa'.
 
 THE FA 0' THE LEAF. 79 
 
 THE FA' 0' THE LEAF. 
 
 WINTER trips on autumn's heels 
 
 To her ither climes awa' ; 
 Dark the woods an' gray the fiel's 
 
 Where the fitfu' sunbeams fa' ; 
 Gloaming comes wi' afternoon, 
 
 Hastening nicht to hide the grief; 
 Luna, pale, amid the gloom, 
 
 Mourns her earthy chief; 
 Streams rin wildly to the sea, 
 Winds sing weirdly through the tree- 
 
 Thefa'o'theleaf! 
 
 Summer's requiem ! hear it sung 
 
 O'er wide ocean in the night, 
 When the trumpet storms are strung 
 
 Wild as Neptune's own delight ! 
 Hear the staves upon the shore 
 
 Struck hy Boreas in his glee ! 
 Where Tantallon's ruins tower 
 
 Euin's tale will be, 
 Misery an' wreck will cry 
 Nature's requiem to the sky 
 
 Frae the listless sea ! 
 
 Hear it through the moaning wood, 
 
 Hear it o'er the dreary plain, 
 Down the valley o' the flood, 
 
 O'er the waters o' the main ! 
 Kead it in the murky sky 
 
 In the hour o' closing day, 
 In the dowie flowers that lie 
 
 Drooping by the way ! 
 List it in the robin's lore 
 Lilted at your cottage door 
 
 A' the cheerless day !
 
 So RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 It is the winds are sweeping 
 
 Over Nature's bier, 
 Winter's arms are creeping 
 
 Bound the dying year ! 
 And a never-fairing shower 
 
 Comes flickering on the blast 
 Dead summer's worn dower, 
 
 With which sweet May her dress'd ; 
 And o'er his naked feet 
 
 The leaves young winter strews, 
 And binds with wind and weet 
 
 The vestment round his thews. 
 
 TANTALLOK ^ 
 
 WHERE the fair Forth weds with the Northern sea, 
 
 Tantallon ; 
 
 Where the meeted billows hold jubilee ; 
 Where the outpost Bass stands guard unto thee 
 
 Tantallon ; 
 
 Where the sea bird shoots to thy stormy skies, 
 Like a Spirit of Doom to frenzied eyes, 
 Eternal and aye thy battlements rise 
 
 Tantallon ! 
 
 Sheer prone from the deep, all naked on high, 
 
 Tantallon ; 
 
 Tower pile upon pile from thy rocky lie, 
 And nod to the centuries hobbling by 
 
 Tantallon ; 
 
 The train of old Time, it but brushes thee, 
 As the years have thy dust, yet grander be 
 A wonder of Eld, by land or by sea 
 
 Tantallon ! 
 
 Thine ocean is mad with a pride below, 
 
 Tantallon ; 
 Her offerings she, when the winters blow,
 
 JOHN KNOX. 8 1 
 
 From her outspreading fields bring thee to know, 
 
 Tantallon. 
 
 Oh! ever she cometh ever doth run 
 Unto thy feet from all lands of the Sun, 
 And clasps thee about when her race is done 
 
 Tantallon ! 
 
 But thy mailed warriors do nevermore, 
 
 Tantallon, 
 
 Brent dark on thy ramparts, vigil the shore, 
 Nor wakes thy echoes trump clang as of yore, 
 
 Tantallon ;. 
 
 Ah ! the mew, the crow, and the wanton wind 
 Are thy last poor wassailers left behind, 
 Which Time, upon a turret, mourn'st to find 
 
 Tantallon ! 
 
 JOHN KNOX. 
 
 LIKE lion-fronted isle sublime 
 
 That sheer from ocean seek'st the sky 
 Above the levelled waste of Time 
 Thou towerest heavenward, huge, and high ! 
 Between this light and yon dark past, 
 An adamantine barrier cast ! 
 
 And as that isle, sun-rising east 
 
 Hangs in his orient o'er the sea, 
 Art thou, o'er all time set amidst, 
 The gratitude of all the free ! 
 
 Who, stable midst unstable, stood 
 The champion of thy country's good. 
 
 For thou with fixed soul didst pursue 
 Thy purpose sacred light for man, 
 Nor fear nor mortal weakness drew 
 Thee from the goal one wayward span, 
 But bursting the chaotic night, 
 Thy one prayer cleft "Let there be light ! "
 
 82 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 And there was light ! and evermore, 
 
 Sphered radiant in that light, art thou 
 A glowing orb amid the gloir 
 
 That star-wreathes Fame's eternal brow, 
 And tints with amaranthine ray 
 Time's passing turbid flood for aye ! 
 
 THE LEGEND OF TKAPKALN LAW.* 
 
 KING LOTH, the Grim, sat on his throne 
 
 Owre a' the Lothians King was he ; 
 Nor frien' nor kin loved he, but ane 
 
 Ismolde his ae fair daughter, she. 
 
 To castled Hailes his warriors beat 
 Thanes and wise men, frae far and near, 
 
 In troops, on horse, or sandal'd feet, 
 With flowing locks and warlike gear ! 
 
 And dern they bear their Saxon brands 
 Sword, dagger, spear, and battle-axe ; 
 
 Whilst swings the mace, with iron bands 
 Clampt like Thor's hammer, at their backs. 
 
 Athort the fosse they jostle in 
 
 Thane, viking, skald, and Odin's priest 
 
 And fill the Hall with clam'rous din, 
 As 'twere to jocund wassail feast. 
 
 * ' ' King Loth, who held sway in jbhe Lothians, and to whom 
 the county is indebted for its name, had a fair and only 
 daughter, on whose brow the diadem was in due time to re- 
 pose. The monarch kept court at some quarter of his 
 dominions not far from Traprain. A shepherd youth lived 
 at this place, with whom the young princess fell hopelessly in 
 love. Stolen interviews followed, and the king too late dis- 
 covered that his daughter had brought disgrace on her 
 lineage. The punishment was death, and that in one of its 
 most appalling forms. The erring damsel was taken to the 
 top of Traprain, and thrown from the dizzy height of three 
 or four hundred feet on to the plain below. The spot where 
 she fell was ever afterwards known by a spring of delicious 
 water that burst forth from the ground the moment she
 
 THE LEGEND OF TRAPRAIN LA W. 83 
 
 But wherefore sits the King so pale, 
 
 In sable throned on wool-pack hie ? 
 Before that throne arraign'd is one, 
 
 Now doom'd for death, Ismolde is she ! 
 
 " Daughter of Kings ! thy weird betide, 
 I Loth, Bretwalda, Lord, and King, 
 
 From eastern Merse to Strath of Clyde, 
 
 Thy Prince, in judgment, 'gainst thee bring ! 
 
 " By right and birth this seat were thine : 
 
 By deadly sin now lost ere won ! 
 Alack the day ! could child of mine 
 
 So basely stoop to born thrall's son ! 
 
 " Yea, not to stoop, but seal with love, 
 
 Before the gods, thy royal troth, 
 Dread Thor ! Valhalla's gates above 
 
 Burst, vengeance-wing'd, for childless Loth ! 
 
 " Yon smooth Oswald of Deira, he 
 
 That, homeward bound from Columb's isle, 
 
 Foot-sore, sojourn'd a space with thee. 
 
 Hath fool'd thy head with tales the while." 
 
 " Oh, father ! " cried the noble maid, 
 " Oh, royal Loth, traduce him none ! 
 
 Ealph loved me since we, children, played ; 
 I love him for his worth alone ! 
 
 alighted upon it. She was found by her friends not quite 
 dead, but insensible, and was conveyed to the shores of the 
 Forth, where she was put into an open boat, and left to drift 
 at the mercy of the tide. The winds and waves proved 
 more merciful than her unforgiving sire, and the still un- 
 conscious but miraculously preserved lady was wafted in 
 her frail bark as far as Culross, where she gave birth to a 
 son, who, under the name of St Mungo, became the patron 
 saint of Glasgow. One day, not far from the spot where his 
 daughter had fallen, King Loth was espied and slain by the 
 peasant lover. He was buried at the base of the hill, and, 
 according to the chronicler who relates the story, a stone 
 was raised to tell future generations where he had been 
 laid." D. CROAL
 
 84 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 11 Who mated me from earliest days 1 
 
 Who shamed Fife's champion's bow and spear ? 
 
 Who saved tliee from the dread assays 
 Of wild Scots on the Ochils drear ? 
 
 " Deny him not ! but Ealph I love, 
 
 Or weal or woe I care not else ! 
 As for the gods One reigns above ; 
 
 Our father's gods, as dreams, were false ! " 
 
 " Say'st thou ? Those gods confound thee, wench ! 
 
 For, by their god-given power in me, 
 Their wrongs and mine this night I'll quench 
 
 In thy heart's blood tho' mine it be ! 
 
 " Lost child of Hengist ! list thy weird : 
 From Traitor's Rock, Dumpender Hill, 
 
 Be thou cast forth this eve declared 
 111 traitress, ripe for death as ill ! 
 
 " And let thy bones unhousen'd rot 
 
 Fit carrion for the night-boar now ! 
 Accursed whereon they fall the spot, 
 
 Grim haunt of gorgons curst as thou ! 
 
 " And torn from mouth of him the tongue 
 That henceforth names thy name shall be ! 
 
 And death his guerdon old or young 
 Who this black day wouldst succour thee ! " 
 
 So spoke the tyrant, and withdrew ; 
 
 No voice in all the Hall gainsaid ; 
 Forth rush'd his menial, murd'rous crew, 
 
 And, as 'twere wild beast, bound the maid ! 
 
 They 've ta'en her k> that dreadfu' Hill ; 
 
 No plaint she made, no word she spake, 
 But whiter than her white robe still, 
 
 Her ghastly face your heart would break.
 
 THE LEGEND OF TRAPRAIN LA W. 85 
 
 They stand upon the fatal rock 
 
 How hush'd that star-lit gloaming's pause ! 
 
 They from her limbs the thongs unlock 
 How hushed sad eve night's curtain draws ! 
 
 they were twenty stalwart men, 
 
 She but a maiden slim and slight ; 
 high in arms, Ismolde is ta'en, 
 
 And flung sheer forth that awful height ! 
 
 As white downpours a mountain flood 
 
 O'er crag and cliff upon the heath, 
 As drops an eagle from the cloud, 
 
 When fowler's barb has carried death, 
 
 So fluttering fell the fair Ismolde 
 
 That vicious thrust the Saxons gave 
 From scarps and jagged peaks untold 
 
 Her fragile form unscaith'd did save. 
 
 Their brute rage proved her boon, I trow ; 
 
 Their Saxon lack of ruth her gain ; 
 0, for her lover champion now, 
 
 With arms outstretched upon the plain ! 
 
 Alas ! 't was but a birken tree 
 
 Ealph far in Fife Loth's ire had flown 
 
 But blessings on that birken tree 
 And the saft swaird she lights upon ! 
 
 Sae dreid her fate, sae pure her heart, 
 
 Her safety gart the breezes sing, 
 And frae the ground she landed on 
 
 Flows welling aye a caller spring. 
 
 Close on the witching hour o' night, 
 
 Stowlins, old Madge, her nurse, drew near 
 
 And swarf'd outright wi' gladsome fright, 
 Yet moaning low, Ismolde to hear !
 
 86 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Like wearied babe she lifted her ; 
 
 Like nurse gane gyte, away she fled, 
 Nor baited she till o'er the sea, 
 
 Ismolde in fisher's skiff she 'd sped. 
 
 The Powers aboon look friendly down, 
 
 Nor nigh that bark come storm nor strife ! 
 It drifts anon by Culross toun 
 Stronghold of Oscar, King of Fife. 
 
 The King held Beltane on the strand, 
 
 " What drifting wrack is yon 1" cried he ; 
 
 " Come, Claude, Harewolf, and Loudon Kalph, 
 Who takes it first his prize shalt be ! " 
 
 Three galliots, like three proud swans, 
 That sweet May morn shot o'er the sea ; 
 
 And oars were plied like willow wan's 
 But Kalph right nobly bore the gree. 
 
 " A hooly prize, fair won, my lad ! 
 
 A hooly prize ! " the King cried he ; 
 " Hist thee ashore the foundling moor 
 
 What ocean stray-waif mot she be ? " 
 
 Moor'd high and dry, they round her pry, 
 " Jesu ! " cried Oscar, " what is here ? " 
 
 And from the hold the fair Ismolde, 
 From deep sleep waking, 'gan to peer ! 
 
 Dumfoundered ghaistlier than ghaist, 
 And staggering as a champion fell'd 
 
 " King !" cried Kalph, " be this no jest 
 A miracle is here beheld ! 
 
 " This is the maid, for whom I said, 
 I 'd flown her pagan father's ire ! 
 
 Fair won, Ismolde, let me enfold 
 A ' hooly prize,' indeed, my Sire ! "
 
 THE LEGEND OF TRAPRAIN LA W, 87 
 
 Oh, Oscar was a knightly King 
 
 A Beltane wedding gave he both ; 
 But when Ismolde her tale had told, 
 
 His vow he pledged to chastise Loth. 
 
 When Hallowmas swept bleak the plain, 
 A fleet of ships stood o'er the Forth 
 
 Oscar's bold eagle, freed again, 
 
 In full broad flight from furth the North. 
 
 But Oscar was the truest knight, 
 
 And in surprise would scorn to take 
 Even Loth ; quo' he" We come to fight, 
 
 Not slaughter, ev'n for Ismolde's sake." 
 
 " Speed, envoy, then, to Court of Loth, 
 Say ' To redress foul murder home, 
 
 A thousand gallants, bound by oath, 
 Even Oscar and his knights have come.' 
 
 " The deed he knows but give this ring, 
 Easped from the nape of Ralph a thrall, 
 
 Who wed the slain child of his King, 
 
 And loves, yet comes to 'venge her fall ! " 
 
 To Court of Loth the envoy came, 
 
 And told King Oscar's challenge full ; 
 
 King Loth no warrior lag or lame 
 Full wroth,_his royal beard 'gan pull. 
 
 " Back, 1 braggart, back to Seton's Bent ; 
 
 Let all your Highland stags be shone ; 
 Thy herd 's a feast by Odin sent 
 
 Our Saxon dogs to gorge upon ! " 
 
 Around Dumpender's western base, 
 
 Upon them Oscar's knights did fall, 
 And many a rueful Saxon face 
 
 That day kiss'd mother earth withal.
 
 88 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Wild was the fray like boars at bay 
 The Saxons fought frae dawn till dine ; 
 
 And blude eneuch, by mony a sheugh, 
 Gart lang or night rin red the Tyne. 
 
 When Oscar charged the tyrant Loth, 
 Their spears both in ilinders flew ; 
 
 Syne swacked they swords in deidly wroth, 
 But a churl behind King Oscar slew ! 
 
 The sacred spot the hero fell 
 
 Tells to this day his standing-stane ; 
 
 Another, nearer to the Hill, 
 
 Where Loth by Ralph was fought and slain ! 
 
 TEE ABBEY GHOST. 
 
 THE Abbey old churchyard the scene of the following 
 lines is enclosed by a black paling in a field lying 
 immediately east from the village. The old church- 
 yard, into which, in my boyhood, no one scarcely ever 
 entered, is distant from the public road to the mill 
 some score yards, and almost from thence the only 
 view of it can be obtained from the "yett," flank- 
 ing the mill-master's house. From this spot the ghost 
 was first observed, and always after looked for. The 
 churchyard has now been in disuse about fifty years 
 as a place of sepulture. Some three and twenty years 
 ago, when the present arched dam was built, it was 
 much against the feelings of some old people greatly 
 contracted, improved, and fenced round as at present. 
 The village is celebrated in the religious, historical, 
 and, it should be added, the criminal annals of our 
 country. Here stood a famous monastery and convents 
 of the old monks and "nuns. Here hath sat our old 
 Scotch Parliament. Here, in an old house which stood 
 on the very skirts of the churchyard, were murdered 
 Katherine Franks and her daughter, Madeline, by
 
 THE ABBEY GHOST. 89 
 
 their relative, Robert Emond, for which crime he was 
 tried at Edinburgh on the 8th February, and executed 
 on the 17th March 1830. I do not at present 
 attempt to deal with these old memories, but neither 
 could I refrain from alluding to them in this intro- 
 duction to the following veritable local ghost story. 
 
 When we were smouts, an' at the schule, 
 And wallop'd weel 'neath Temple's rule, 
 A ghost oor auld kirk yaird frequented 
 Peace bless the spot, an' kindly tend it ! 
 Oh ! blessings, blessings, on it fa', 
 The love the reverence o' us a' 
 Fence aye it round ; nor evil brook 
 This sacred page o' Nature's book, 
 Whare rich an' puir may mickle learn 
 0' fleeting life an' siire death stern ! 
 
 A ghost the auld kirk yaird frequented 
 A ghost gigantic darkly hinted, 
 But fell auld wives deep read in " art," 
 Risen to pay folk for the part 
 They late had ta'en wi' the young laird 
 In rugging up the auld kird yaird. 
 It had nae een but twa black holes 
 Scowled in its skull twa awesome boles. 
 Its solemn mooth was lang an' droopit, 
 Its nose an' chin thegether moopit ; 
 An', when the scared moon on it glinted, 
 wow ! its girt look'd ghaistly stinted ! 
 Hey, sirs ! the folks, baith young an' auld, 
 Swat sair wi' dread o't, be it tauld ! 
 As soon 's the gloamin' 'gan to lower 
 The miller barr'd an' ranc'd his door; 
 To won the heaven, he durstna steer 
 Abroad the mill ae fit for fear. 
 At the first wink o' drowsy day 
 The bairns forsook their noisy play, 
 An', cowed-like, sought the ingle cheek, 
 Owre fou, alas ! o' thocht to speak, 
 But, wi' wide mooths, they wondering sat.
 
 90 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Listening the elders' eerie chat, 
 
 Wha, every nicht wi' solemn mien, 
 
 Tauld harrowing tales o' ghosts they 'd seen, 
 
 Till ane an' a', in terror shakin', 
 
 Wad seek their bunks, wi' hearts a-quakin', 
 
 To chitter hours in sweat, to hear 
 
 The wind an' mice, like ghosts, asteer ; 
 
 An' when, at last, on nichtmare's back, 
 
 Flee troops o' ghosts an' lose the track ! 
 
 Nae thanks, belyve, now far an' near 
 The country sheuk a' this to hear ; 
 Sages an' doctors, grave an' keen, 
 Gowks, dreamers, sp'ritualists, an' e'en 
 Your reason's bigots wha can laugh 
 Man's fears an' yearns as idle chaff, 
 An' yet a gloamin' shadow tells 
 The coward fouters are themsel's 
 Now cam', an' saw the famous ghost 
 (At a safe distance ye may trust) 
 Oh ! slee precautions did they tak' 
 Against deception mony a crack 
 Wi' a' kind gun they banged the ghaist, 
 But there it stood, nor fasht the least \ 
 Amang the trees in the auld kirk yaird 
 The awfu' vision loom'd unscared, 
 An', 'twerna ghost, 'twas nocht in natur', 
 Oh ! sure, its look proclaimed the cratur'. 
 A stalwart, boisterous, village chiel 
 Had sworn for weeks, tho' 'twere the Doil, 
 The ghost he'd brave, an' daur to fecht, 
 If seen on Handsel Monday nicht. 
 An', for that end, twa thirds a barrel 
 He swill'd that day to meet the quarrel. 
 
 The nicht lower'd on, the toun was oot, 
 " Wild Eob " was there the " ghaist " to route. 
 Auld folks scarce breathed, sigh'd lads an' limmers, 
 While gloaming felFin shadowy shimmers ; 
 Still, like a winter flood in spate, 
 The anxious crood swirl'd roond the gate ; 
 Owre Kob gaed wheel then forrit straight
 
 THE AULD FARMER'S LAMENT. 91 
 
 To the " ghaist's " haunt fornenst the yett 
 There stood it now, all weird as ever, 
 Fronting the husht crood an' the river ! 
 On sped " Wild Rob " ae moment mair 
 An' he 'd the kirk yaird paling clear 
 Oh, losh ! he 's owre ! His cudgel flees 
 Whack at the " ghaist " amang the trees 
 Loundering at hurdies, heid, an' breist, 
 The fowk see Eob engage the " ghaist ; " 
 Syne fast as thocht 'mang lood alarms 
 He grips the bogle in his arms, 
 An' just as swith, withoot a swither, 
 He whisks it lengthwise owre his shouther, 
 An' brings 't hallooing toward the gate. 
 Did the fowk wait 1 The fient a wait ! 
 As sheep when lowrie tod they see, 
 Man, wife, and wean, in panic flee ! 
 The " ghost " a lerrick painted white, 
 Was but a ticket-post Oh, spite ! 
 The laird had caused to be set there 
 Malicious mischief loons to scare, 
 On pain o' prosecution dared 
 To touch or harm the auld kirk yaird. 
 
 THE AULD FARMER'S LAMENT FOR THE 
 WAT HAIRST. 
 
 OCH, sic a dreary harvest day ! 
 
 Oot through the stooks the dreepin' rain 
 Seeps, seepin' rottin' corn an' strae, 
 
 An' blasting a' oor hopes again ! 
 The haill howe lift I scan in vain 
 
 Still thicker seems the cloud array 
 To gether owre that dismal plain, 
 
 Whilk erstwhile look'd sae fair and gay ] 
 
 Waesucks, thou wearie, eastlin' blast 
 
 Frae " Lumsden's Hole " that stormest stoure !
 
 92 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 A' ither airts south, north, or wast 
 At hantrin times grow dull an' dour : 
 
 But thou ! Gude kens nae simmer shoo'r 
 Thou draps us, whan thou art owrecast, 
 
 But ae lang half-week's constant poo'r 
 "We're sure o' ere thy drunt be past ! 
 
 0, sirs ! is this the end o' a' 
 
 O' oor lang twalmonth's toil an' care ? 
 To sit thus, feckless, sigh an' blaw, 
 
 Like snools, mere fraits an' vain despair 1 
 Alack ! I leuk aroond me there, 
 
 In that black east there 's prospeck sma' 
 0' getherin' what ance promis'd fair 
 
 The richest hairst ere Scotland saw ! 
 
 Ochone ! gif my dreid fears come true 
 
 Gif baith the corn and tatties rot 
 Syne, what the warld could stap us noo 
 
 Gaun, aebite, doon disaster's throat ! 
 A mairacle could save us not ! 
 
 The dyvor's coort we bud gae throo ! 
 Lord ! ease thou thy wrath a jot 
 
 Lat not thine ain sae laighly boo ! 
 
 What wi' rack-rents an' bills tae meet 
 
 Labour a ransom seasons bad 
 The markets farcies finest wheat 
 
 (Whare it is saved an' can be had) 
 Selling only sae that ain is glad 
 
 Tae tak' whatever ane can geet : 
 A' this an' mair mak's me sae mad 
 
 That I, for dounricht teen, could greet ! 
 
 Oh ! hard art thou thou wearie warld ! 
 
 An' sair, sair are we ding'd by thee ! 
 Frae the blue hichts o' Hope we 're hurled, 
 
 Aft in the twinklin' o' an e'e ! 
 Syne whare we crooch in miserie, 
 
 Despair's black banner flaffs unfurled, 
 And Ruin's swurd is threateninlie 
 
 Close owre oor heids by factors swirl'd !
 
 SONG THE BONNIE LAD WAS JOE TO ME. 93 
 SONG. THE BONNIE LAD WAS JOE TO ME. 
 
 TRANENT MASSACRE. 
 
 Let King George sing dool on his throne, 
 
 An' yon red-coated minions be 
 A bye-word an' a warning groan, 
 
 To him wha wad enthrall the free ! 
 But, oh ! alake, he '11 ne'er come back 
 
 The bonnie lad was joe to me 
 A madman sodger hack'd him doun, 
 
 As he ploo'd, whistlin', o'er the lea. 
 
 For gatherin' in a lawfu' cause, 
 
 To plead their plea like Scottish men, 
 The tyrants, traitors to all laws, 
 
 Dealt a wide country death an' pain ! 
 O' bluidy day ! o' deadly day ! 
 
 That I was born thy weird to dree 
 That wrapt, my lad, in bluidy clay, 
 
 An' beded me with misery. 
 
 How fairly seemed that Lammas morn, 
 
 How sweetly heard the shearer's sang, 
 How clear my laddie's lilt was borne 
 
 The very hills for pleasure rang. 
 But ah, waes me ! baith lilt and sang 
 
 Was changed or night for sab an' grane ; 
 For mithers wailing^sad an' lang, . 
 
 An' me for my dear laddie slain. 
 
 Some will bewail a bairnie dear, 
 
 Was shot or butcher'd in their sight ; 
 A brither there a faither here 
 
 In red wat death gasht grim that night. 
 An' thou, my laddie, evermair, 
 
 Down to the lagging hour I dee, 
 For that my heart is fou an' sair, 
 
 Will wither auld still wailing thee !
 
 94 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 NOTE. The above " song " is founded too truly 
 upon fact. The occasion of it was the still well- 
 known and remembered riot and massacre of the 
 people of and around Tranent, on Tuesday, the 29th 
 of August 1797. An Act of Parliament having been 
 passed (in 1797) for the raising of a militia in Scot- 
 land (contrary to the articles of union between Eng- 
 land and Scotland), every parish schoolmaster was 
 ordained to fill up and make yearly returns of the 
 names, &c., of the persons liable to serve in his dis- 
 trict. The burden of this law fell severely upon the 
 poor, who were not able to provide substitutes, and 
 whose families, by the pressing away of the bread- 
 winners, might come to endure all the horrors of 
 poverty and even starvation. The rich easily evaded 
 it. In many parts of Scotland the peasantry actually 
 rose in arms to prevent the execution of this obnoxious 
 enactment many interesting stories of which Samuel 
 may live to tell some day. The depute-lieutenants for 
 the county of Haddington, appointed to receive and 
 revise the lists for Tranent, met for that purpose in 
 the head inn of the village on the forenoon of the 
 29th of August. Fearing a disturbance, the depute- 
 lieutenants had called in the assistance of a party of 
 the Cinque Port Light Dragoons, then stationed in 
 Haddington ; and, also by circular letters, the attend- 
 ance of the County Yeomanry Cavalry near the vil- 
 lage. The Dragoons were drawn up on the streets. 
 In the inn the magistrates were proceeding to business 
 when the delegates from the surrounding districts 
 arrived in a crowd and drew up in front of it. This 
 crowd was reinforced by all those persons who wished 
 their names struck from the lists as being diseased, too 
 old, or infirm, to serve. The delegates sent in a 
 petition to the gentlemen that they would not enforce 
 the regulations of the Act, addressed " To the hon- 
 ourable gentlemen assembled in Tranent for the pur- 
 pose of raising six thousand militiamen in Scotland," 
 and subscribed by an immense number of names. The 
 curt and only reply to this humble prayer of a whole
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 95 
 
 country, of a law-abiding people, was " an imperious 
 order to disperse ! " This high-handed and masterful 
 policy had of course the inevitable effect of enraging 
 the people, and soon the women, first, it is said, began 
 throwing stones at the windows of the inn and at the 
 soldiers. A depute attempted to read the Riot Act, 
 but was neither heeded nor heard ; and one of the 
 missiles striking him, the order was given to the 
 cavalry to charge, and the troopers galloped madly into 
 the crowd, cutting right and left of them. Women 
 and little children were slashed down or trodden 
 under the feet of the horses, until the perfervidum 
 ingenium Scotorum was aroused, and instantly um- 
 brellas and walking-sticks, were opposed to bullets and 
 cold steel. But of course the people had to retreat ; 
 but not till after a deadly struggle, and the reinforce- 
 ment of the military by a detachment of the Suther- 
 land Fencibles (then quartered in Musselburgh), were 
 they driven from the village. But the lamentable 
 carnage of the people which ensued was carried far 
 beyond the town ; and men, women, and children 
 were indiscriminately slaughtered despite their piteous 
 cries for mercy. Several persons who had not even 
 been near Tranent that day were slain barbarously in 
 cold blood while pursuing their usual avocations. 
 
 Such is a very brief but true outline of the lament- 
 able story of the " Massacre of Tranent," and on one 
 of the many melancholy details of which the above 
 song is founded. 
 
 SELECTIONS 
 FROM "RURAL REMINISCENCES." 
 
 PEEFATOEY NOTE. 
 
 [Before ushering upon this mortal stage the follow- 
 ing selections of these woe-begone " Reminiscences," 
 it seems proper that I, their reputed and distracted
 
 96 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 father, should here " say a word " in explana- 
 tion of, and apology for, the entire serial family 
 of them. So far as they go, they very nearly are what 
 they were intended to he from the beginning i.e., a 
 dismal set of dreadfully serious (alheit necessarily frag- 
 mentary) sketches of certain aspects of rural life and 
 manners in East Lothian as they presented themselves 
 to the youthful optics of "Samuel the First," from 
 twenty to twenty-five years ago. That they are true 
 to nature, and are, indeed, exact pen and ink sketches 
 drawn from actual life, must, I think, he plain and 
 patent even to that superannuated observer and dumb 
 critic of this nether world the Man in the Moon him- 
 self. They are neither moral nor religious essays. 
 Such things were all written out before the birth of this 
 century. But because they are not, no one should run 
 away with the idea that they therefore advocate or 
 approve what they describe. To do so knowingly is 
 the grossest injustice. Otherwise, it betrays the sub- 
 lime simplicity and lamentable ignorance of the he or 
 she who does so. The "Reminiscences" avowedly 
 possess nothing of the didactic beyond what is natural 
 to, and intrinsic in, every picture of nature. Alas ! 
 They were written with the fore-finger of Samuel 
 Mucklebackit dipped in blood which trickled from 
 his broken heart ! Well knoweth he what daubs 
 they are. What then ? My gentle reader, kindly 
 suppose for a moment that misfortune say in the 
 shape of one of the ancient genii or " dragons " were 
 suddenly to swoop down and strip you and your 
 dearest friends of literally everything you possessed 
 but naked life. Further imagine that, after this 
 outrage, this same diabolical genius misfortune, com- 
 manded you should instantly get up before a large 
 audience and crack jokes, make droll speeches, and 
 sing songs to it. Think thou not that these cracks, 
 speeches, and songs would be " droll " assuredly i 
 Yet this is exactly how these slight papers were pro- 
 duced though mighty Babylon knoweth it not.]
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 97 
 
 THE BOYHOOD OF " MUCKLEBACKIT. 
 
 As the red sun sank ower the Garleton brae, 
 Wandering lanely in sorrow an' wae 
 Doun by the Tyne at the auld " wood lee," 
 Without ever thinking, the Muse found me ! 
 
 " Oh, come awa', Sam ! .lose your sorrow in me 
 As aft ye hae dune ! " she said tenderlie ; 
 Sae I smiled thro' my tears, an', like a wee wean, 
 Ran into her airms an', lauched again ! 
 
 A silly and contemptible rumour, scarcely more 
 worthy of notice than a discordant blast from a school- 
 boy's penny whistle, hath flown abroad, and rever- 
 berated shrilly through some half-dozen parishes, to 
 the affect that the writer of this grave series of articles 
 to be, is dead and buried is, indeed, as defunct, and 
 hath, for all time coming, received as complete a 
 quietus at last as a Bannockburn Southron ! Nothing 
 under the old sun is new. History is reiteration ; 
 and what was said of Socrates (that truest sovereign 
 over earthly slavery and calumny) in the olden time 
 is just now being echoed of Samuel in the modern ! 
 I advisedly surmise that the true source and fountain 
 of this exaggerated and malicious, if not somewhat 
 despiteful report, ^is the daized and superannuated 
 imagination of a certain rara avis, a droup rumplet and 
 feathery-headed aged " dominie " a pesky " noisy 
 polemic " albeit, once a rather close neighbour and 
 convenient interlocutor of mine but a man who, in 
 his melancholy dotage, now goes from door to door, 
 mumbling disjointed and incredible verbal fragments 
 and snatches of my private talk till he actually becomes 
 a believer in them himself, and then straightway 
 reports them to the press as the accurate and word-for- 
 word outpourings of Mucklebacktt ! To what im 
 measurable depths of doited idiocy will not these obsol- 
 escent units of human senility sometimes descend ! 
 Sam " gotten his coup de grace" indeed ! But, really,
 
 98 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 the outrageous and ridiculous puerility of this declara- 
 tion by the decrepit and fussy octogenarian whom it 
 is surely generous to conjecture must have totally 
 collapsed into his " second childhood " is such as 
 entirely to preclude further comment. 
 
 In this way, doubtless, and, perhaps, likewise be- 
 cause I at about that time happened to be confined for 
 a day or two with a troublesome rheumatic cold, did 
 the foolish rumours of my premature demise originate. 
 This is so probable that it might be taken at first sight as 
 a self-evident fact. The rheumatic complaint alluded 
 to was to me a fresh and a strange experience. For a 
 day or two previously I had been touched with a sore 
 throat and ordinary cold, and on the morning of the 
 fourth day I awoke with a pain in my chest as excru- 
 ciating as if I had had a pill overnight from Burns' 
 " Doctor Hornbook." As the centre of this physical 
 disturbance lay immediately over the region of the 
 heart, I, not unnaturally, imagined that the dreadful 
 symptoms indicated an acute and incurable attack of 
 heart disease, and accordingly I gave myself up for a 
 lost man, and verily believed that I would be bundled 
 over Jordan or the " Eiver of Death " forthwith. 
 On the arrival of Dr Gordon, however, this appalling 
 notion was dispelled like vapour and forgotten, for, 
 after making a careful diagnostic survey of my whole 
 body, he rubbed his hands together and decisively 
 declared that my trouble was not only not an affection 
 of the heart, but was only, indeed, a very so-and-so 
 visit of the rheumatism to the muscular system of the 
 breast ! I was so overjoyed with this scientific expul- 
 sion of all my morbid fears and fancies that I, as soon as 
 he (the Doctor) was gone like a true bard and a gen- 
 erous and grateful patient began instantly to reward 
 by immortalising him in my own way as follows : 
 
 "NOT JORDAN." 
 
 A waif, I to ane dark stream cam', 
 
 That had nor brig nor ford on, 
 Whilk made me gasp "alas poor Sam ! 
 
 I doot you've reached the Jordan !"
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 99 
 
 Sae maist red-wud, upo' the flude, 
 
 I flung this wearie burden 
 But ere I wist, furth I was cuist, 
 
 By ane Life-gaird, ca'd Gordon ! 
 
 " Hoots, hoots," says He, " how crazed you be 
 
 Despair thus to rush, board on ! 
 That brook 's a rill that drains Life's Hill, 
 
 And far, far hence, flows Jordan ! " 
 I wept to hear his tale o' cheer ; 
 
 I trusted every word on ! 
 For at my haun' ane Gentleman, 
 
 Stamp'd Nature's ain, spak' Gordon ! 
 
 As his readers are, many of them, no doubt, about 
 to make acquaintance with MucklebacMt for the first 
 time, it seemeth meet, and, in fact, necessary, that he 
 should herewith proceed to give, as plainly and 
 succinctly as he can, some account of himself, in 
 order that one and all may fully understand and duly 
 appreciate what is to follow in future papers. 
 
 I will rapidly jerk into this biographical task by 
 stating that at the time when I first unclosed my 
 optics upon this bewildering world my father was 
 the tenant of the small farm of most appropriately 
 nick-named " Scaurden," in East Lothian, and that 
 he afterwards succeeded to Clover Eiggs during my 
 adolescence. Nothing that I have heard of was ob- 
 served remarkable about me until I had reached my 
 twelfth year excepting my extraordinary physical 
 dimensions and superabundant animal spirits. At 
 twelve I stood five feet six inches in my stockings, 
 and weighed over nine stones imperial. At school I 
 was the acknowledged leader in all sorts of boyish 
 sports and scrapes, and would have blushed to have 
 been caught reading by a companion between school 
 hours. Secretly, however, I had devoured even by 
 this time at least twenty Chapmen's packs of penny 
 Belfast Almanacks ; long strips of ballads dolefully 
 rehearsing the dying speeches and confessions of
 
 loo RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 scores of blood-handed murderers and malefactors ; 
 handfuls of three-halfpenny pamphlets, giving ex- 
 planations and true readings of all sorts of dreams ; 
 and, above and beyond all, whole libraries of the most 
 fascinating and delightful narratives of great sea fights, 
 together with enchanting histories of the most dread- 
 ful and tremendous pirates imaginable. As a quite 
 natural result following the administration of this 
 surfeit of such pernicious trash, I ran away from home 
 in my twelfth year, made my way a-foot to Hull, and 
 there joined the merchant-man " Ostrich," Captain 
 Grosse, bound for South America with a cargo of 
 coal, &c. At sea I became a favourite with all hands, 
 and was much noted and highly prized for my astonish- 
 ing bodily strength and great powers of endurance 
 not one man of all the crew even so much as suspect- 
 ing how my heart was breaking for the old home. 
 On the run home, and while lying becalmed off the 
 coast of Brazil, the older sailors used to amuse them- 
 selves by making me carry them to and from the deck 
 upon my back. Our captain was a huge, fat, coarse, 
 bluff man, and an irreclaimable devotee of Bacchus to 
 boot. One sad and memorable day, whilst a bevy of 
 the jolly tars were diverting themselves with me in 
 the manner mentioned, the captain, unannounced, 
 suddenly emerged from his quarters below, fully 
 " three sheets " of the wind a-lee. Angrily seeing us 
 thus employed, he caught hold of me by the arm and 
 gruffly asserted, with a terrific oath, that if I did not 
 there and then carry him to the forecastle, he would 
 order the boatswain instantly to " rope-end " me. In 
 my endeavour to fulfil his brutal command I tripped 
 upon the capsan the vast human ox coming down 
 atop of me and was picked up insensible, and with 
 my spine seriously injured. On our landing in 
 England I was carried to hospital, where I lay in- 
 valided for many long months before I felt myself 
 capable of undertaking the long journey homewards 
 to my father's house. What a prodigy I was ! As 
 I walked in over the threshold of Scaurden, my old
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES, 101 
 
 farmer father, with the rain in his eyes, says " Sam, 
 is this you ? Have ye come frae the schule, Sam 1 
 What for has the maister lat ye back sae quick 1 I 
 believe I" maun tak' ye in hand mysel', Sam." The 
 dear, clear grand old man, strange to say, had never 
 got the letter that I should have sent him. Oh, the 
 thoughtless cruelties of boyhood, &c. No more was 
 said about it the back healed everything but itself. 
 The broken back was the universal elixir. "Puir 
 thing ! " I would hear them cracking ; " puir laddie ! 
 Such a wonderfu' creatur' too ! " I was then crowned 
 Head Obsolute of the Empire of Heart. But my reign 
 was not to be for ever. After a time, my two leading 
 ministers, Pity and Sorrow, went away upon their 
 travels, and although I managed to retain Wonder, 
 the geography of my kingdom was ever after uncertain. 
 But I was free ! No school, no work ; away for ever 
 up among the everlasting hills ! And who met the 
 poor, pale, keeker up there ? Ah ! who but the blue- 
 robed, green-mantled, riower-snooded, dreamy-eyed 
 shining one the distraction of old time herself, 
 sweet Poesy ! It was about this time, too, that I got 
 hold of Scott's "Heart of Midlothian." 0, Effie 
 Deans! what tears were shed what tears will be shed 
 for thee through all coming time ! Many things 
 puzzled me. (What for did Eobertson, as the doomster 
 read the accursed sentence, not burst like a storm into 
 the court, with a hundred-barrel revolver gleaming, 
 and strike the caitiff lawyers' hearts with a death fear 
 and bear thee scaithless away, albeit the lily of St 
 Leonard's no more 1 He could have had a coach and 
 six Arabian horses at the door, and a boat, dancing 
 impatience at the pier o' Leith, all ready.) Then 
 Burns glorious ! Then Blind Harry's " Wallace." 
 To tell what I felt, as a boy, when reading " Wallace," 
 would just be simply impossible. Had it not been for 
 my back, I would have gone straight to London, and 
 not left one little stone of Westminster where he 
 suffered standing upon another. The Cowpers would 
 not have needed to screech so loud for their " vast
 
 102 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 wildernesses ! " No ; I don't want to speak of Mon- 
 teith ! I have said that I took naturally to poetry at 
 this time. I did so, and the making of too, in a way. 
 This was my first : 
 
 "MITHER CALEDON. 
 
 Shed that veil o' cloud at wain, 
 Loot owre me wi' smile sae fain, 
 Listen to thy callant's strain 
 Mither Caledon ! 
 
 Eoll on the ages owre thee ! 
 Wallace eras nae mair be ; 
 But thou right and liberty ! 
 Mither Caledon ! 
 
 Generations, law an' line, 
 Tumble frae that lap o' thine ; 
 Thou ! stern, rude, and heart divine 
 Mither Caledon ! 
 
 High in thine eternal seat, 
 Eagle-eyed the epochs greet ; 
 Glean their fair flowers at thy feet 
 Mither Caledon ! 
 
 Arise ! and take the " vaward," 
 Girt with righteous purpose hard, 
 Thine old shield and surest guard, 
 Mither Caledon ! 
 
 Ahead ! scan out the march-way, 
 Point a warld to light an' day, 
 High on hill-tops, and away 
 Deathless Caledon ! 
 
 One week, before I became fourteen years old, 
 occurred the October Fair day. My back then was 
 entirely better as regarded pain, and I resolved to go
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 103 
 
 to the fair. My grave attention was instantly arrested 
 at Gifford. "The battle of Waterloo!" sweetly 
 chanted an individual at the loan head to some sheep 
 drovers, but entirely his own way. " Do you say 
 so ? " says I, snuffing the battle afar off; but without 
 heeding me, he opened his mouth yet wider, and 
 roared still louder. I waited till it was shut, and 
 advanced. "Do you want a song, governor'? 1 ' he 
 said; "here you be." I took it from the innocent 
 warbler, and retired to a quiet corner to peruse it, I 
 gat down to the bridge, and had the original effusion 
 all to myself. Of course, it stunned me as what 
 would not, that began 
 
 " On the 16th day of June, my boys, 
 In Flanders, where we lay? " 
 
 But though the ballad was worthless, the idea and 
 resolution it gave rise to were far from being so. 
 " Sam ! " I exclaimed aloud ; " here is a trade ! a 
 writer, singer, and disposer, for bawbees, of battle 
 ballads of immortal victories and sweet sea-fights 
 to the rural sons and daughters of your native land. 
 Arise, Sam, and kittle up the olden Doric harp ! 
 Muslin brose, lee-dyke sides, seybies, and a deathless 
 name for ever ! " The irrevocable determination to 
 go it was taken, and sealed there and then. 
 
 Let me here for one moment diverge from the 
 thread of my story, to say that by this time (my 
 fourteenth year) I had managed to gather into my 
 mental storehouse a really extraordinary harvest of 
 information for one of my age, and this without being 
 then and long after, in the least degree aware of. I 
 had lived among reading people all my days ; and my 
 father, though I knew he loved me dearly, did any- 
 thing but praise me. The histories of England and 
 Scotland (barring, perhaps, a degree of vagueness 
 about dates, and other dry facts of little account), 
 from Csesar to "William IV. , were at my fingers' ends ; 
 Bible and Universal History I knew well ; and
 
 104 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Shakespeare and Milton were my daily companions. 
 As for Burns and Allan Ramsay, and a few others, 
 I had every word they ever uttered indelibly by 
 heart long ago. Before the fair day in question I 
 had grown a little scientific. Hugh Miller tickled 
 me, but George Combe's writings produced more than 
 a revolution in my way of thinking ; but though I 
 am even yet a little of one, he never succeeded in 
 converting me to an out-and-out phrenologist. I 
 believe Combe was above this himself, and posterity 
 will yet do him noble justice. Peace and beauty encom- 
 pass the Dean Cemetery where lie his philosophic 
 "lobes!" 
 
 I went home, as I said, to put my grand scheme 
 into execution. With an old blade of what might 
 have been a razor in the middle ages, I set to work 
 upon my own and my father's books, to get paper 
 whereon to inscribe my heroic themes. A few dozen 
 fly-leaves were quickly detached, and, along with 
 some old copy books, made, I thought, a respectable 
 bundle. My plan was to fill these with original 
 songs, written to old popular airs, descriptive of Scot- 
 tish battles ; and then, like an ancient minstrel, set 
 forth to sing and sell them over the length and breadth 
 of Scotland. This I kept a secret from every one ; 
 and the winter passed away, and the time drew near 
 which I had fixed upon for my second adventurous 
 essay from the paternal roof. 
 
 It was a bonny spring morning in the latter end of 
 March. I slipped my cable from Scaurden the night 
 previous, as the old " wag-at-the-wa'" chimed to 
 Hecate her awesome hour of spells. I took with me, 
 to be my companion in my wayward raids, a little 
 coarse gray-haired, gruesome, cunning Scotch terrier 
 dog, of doubtful breed, which I had baptised, in an 
 orthodox manner, some days before " Second Sight." 
 
 My stock-in-trade those immortal ballads, bound 
 with a saddle girth I carried under my arm. I pos- 
 sessed, when I started, exactly 0, Os. Od. We 
 trotted (Second Sight and I) up the High Street of
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 105 
 
 Edinburgh, about nine in the morning, to the Witness 
 newspaper office, to have an interview with the cele- 
 brated editor, Hugh Miller. I had never seen him 
 before ; but from what I had read, I thought I would 
 recognise him at a glance if he came before me. I 
 did not go into the office and ask for the " editor ; " I 
 knew better. I waited at a close head till he passed, 
 on his way from his house at Portobello. At a few 
 minutes before ten he was visible ; he was like no 
 other man, and thereby I knew him the mighty 
 Scandinavian ! I crept out, and kept close to 
 Miller behind. I was right ; he went in, passed 
 through the office into his sanctum sanctorwn, and 
 had the door bolted upon us before he saw me. He 
 started back, then ; took on a ferocious look ; 
 clutched at something in his breast pocket, and 
 shouted " Who 1 how ] " Had it not been for the 
 invaluable Second Sight, in that supreme moment, I 
 believe in my heart he would have struck me to his 
 feet a dead man. For down in Miller I may remind 
 you reposing, but not altogether buried, under strata 
 of a gentler external nature, dwelt the lingering 
 savage and superstitious elements of his mixed Celtic 
 and Scandinavian origin. Hugh Miller was a 
 visionary, and I am convinced he, at first, actually 
 took me for a visitant from the lower regions, as 
 I so unexpectedly stood before him. Second Sight 
 alone saved me. (That obscure, canine image was 
 worth his weight in refined gold !) He barked, leaped, 
 and throttled the old mason, while I cried " Siller, 
 Mr Miller ! it's siller ; I only want siller ! " Thereby 
 he perceived that I was only human ; for he at once 
 drew his hand from his breast, and said mildly 
 " How much do you ask 1 " and sat down on his seat 
 much relieved. I told him all ; gave him a sketch of 
 my life my plans for the future, prospects, and present 
 needs. Told him I was going to sing my way over 
 Scotland for the purpose of visiting the scenes of old 
 battles, and places famous in history and literature ; 
 that I intended, in the first place, to cross the sea, and
 
 106 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 open proceedings at Burntisland ; that I wanted siller 
 to pay for the boat, and no more ; and that I had 
 come to him because I had read all his great books, 
 and loved him for his own and our common country's 
 sake. I said my father did not know, but that if he 
 gave me siller I would write him and he knew Sam 
 too well to be much put about concerning me. He 
 listened with great attention, I saw ; for he sat as one 
 transfixed, and stared over at me with such a thin 
 smile on his face like moonlight on an ancient monu- 
 ment of gravity, done in old red sandstone ! After I 
 had done he suddenly rose from his chair, strode over 
 to me, catched me by the arm, and again sat down. 
 He stared at me again for another minute or so. At 
 the end, and all at once, as if he had just received the 
 order from some outside Fate at his elbow, he lifted 
 me up on to his great knee. Again, that long, anxious, 
 wondering stare, without one word. I spoke first, at 
 last I couldn't help it the silence was so oppressive. 
 I said " Hugh, if you are going to lend me siller, 
 mind it is only a lend ; for I will bring it back when 
 I return ; and if you like, just now, I will sing you 
 my ' Battle of Bannockburn ' for your kindness 1 " 
 He stroked me on the head with his mason's mallet of 
 a fist, like a mother, and nodded compliance. In a 
 beautiful, low voice, then, I began, and soothed his 
 cares asleep with my melodious idyll. It was a sight 
 sublime the old sage and the young singer crossing 
 each other on the way to the eternal end, and binding 
 with harmony the recollection for ever of the happy 
 hour. Second Sight enjoyed it to the full, seemingly, 
 for he sat on his hurdies, and looked Patience herself 
 (save winking) all the time. After the song, " Old 
 Red " handed me down gently, and took from his 
 pocket a tape line and measured my head. Then he 
 gave me more than I wanted in shape of shillings; 
 and after telling me to" have an eye on my road 
 for " specimens," I departed.
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 107 
 
 " THE BATTLE OP BANNOCKBUEN." 
 
 Price One Halfpenny. 
 
 Fast phalanx'd on Bannock side 
 
 Oh ! look a risen land ; 
 For one last stroke for freedom dear, 
 Take up her final stand ! 
 
 Confess'd in heaven's fixed decree 
 'Tis life, 'tis death but liberty ! 
 
 Her pennons, dyed in war's red tide, 
 
 And banners shaped in fight, 
 Flap memories about the winds, 
 And wrongs of Wallace wight ! 
 
 A thousand arms shall pledge the foe 
 A thousand fold the tyrant's blow ! 
 
 De Boune and Clifford, heralding, 
 
 The dawn of freedom's morn, 
 First cross the weirds in deathly strife, 
 The foes of Bannockburn. 
 
 And summer Sol bursts out to see, 
 A sacrifice to liberty ! 
 
 A voice, as of a mighty wind 
 
 Up from a redeem'd sea, 
 Sweeps every wrong and woe away 
 With one word Victory ! 
 
 And smiling peace, so long forlorn, 
 Hallows the sod of Bannockburn ! 
 
 After I left the Witness office, I went to an humble 
 lodging, had Second Sight and myself fed, passed the 
 remainder of the day in sleep, and started next 
 morning to be in good time for the first boat crossing 
 the Firth to Burntisland. As I walked across the 
 short distance of country between Edinburgh and 
 Granton, and just as I had passed the last Edinburgh 
 house, I noticed, some sixty yards before me on the
 
 io8 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 road, and going also westward, an odd little figure, 
 clad in a brown snuff overcoat, and finished a-top with 
 a hat, whose brim inclined lovingly back towards the 
 sun. The stranger also flourished a heavy polished 
 walking-stick in his right hand. I fancied him, and, 
 giving myself freedom, soon trotted alongside of him. 
 He was an out-and-out original the face and figure 
 said so, and I believed them, and acted up to my 
 faith. " My dear sir," I said, " if you please, is this 
 the way to Granton Ferry, and Burntisland, and 
 Perth, and Glentilt in the Grampians, and Culloden 
 Moor. Is this, my dear sir is this the road to 
 Falkland Palace ? " This last took the child by the 
 ears, wheeled him round, and brought him to a dead 
 lock. Odd as he was, I instinctively felt then I was 
 in the presence of a gentleman, and a highly learned 
 and great intellectual man. He was all three at least, 
 as the sequel showed ; for the child, and no other, was 
 Thomas De Quincey, the " English Opium Eater " 
 the critic of Cato and Milton, the essayist and logician, 
 and the purest, subtlest, most pointed, distinct, and 
 correct general writer that ever perhaps wielded an 
 English pen. His writings flow on like classic waters 
 from classic hills, through classic lands, and fall into 
 classic seas. Almost every sentence is a stream of 
 purest crystal thought, which, rolling on and gathering, 
 takes up its tributary clauses from either side, and 
 carries them away in swelling pride and conscious 
 power, flashing in mid-day, to the one inevitable 
 bourne of full and unbounded conviction. I had read 
 a little of him then as the " Opium Eater " in Wilson's 
 " JSToctes ; " but I chiefly knew him from a conversation 
 I had heard between my father and two young students, 
 who called and slept one night at Scaurden, when 
 passing over the hills on a fishing excursion. To be 
 with Wilson, they said, he had come to Edinburgh, 
 and taken a house at tasswade, where he now lived 
 with his family. 
 
 When he stopped, I repeated my question in an 
 urbane manner " I asked you, kind sir, was this the
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 109 
 
 way to Falkland Palace 1 " He looked up at me, but 
 answered naught for a while. I thought at that time 
 I had never beheld a more beautiful head than this 
 same tiny, fragile, wrinkled, manikin wizard's. His 
 age might be about sixty, or a little more ; his burning 
 little eyes were deep set, and his brow exceeding 
 large. " Falkland 1 " he said, with a voice like a 
 moonbeam ; " yes. But mayn't I, before answering, 
 and without appearing rude, request to be honoured 
 with the name of my interrogator ] " " Oh yes, sir ! 
 I am Samuel Mucklebackit. Hou do they ca' you at 
 hame V "Thomas De Quincey ; at times, but cantingly, 
 the ' English Opium Eater.' Don't start so ; oh, do 
 not ! Truly I am De Quincey ; but tell me, how 
 Falkland Palace how Scottish minstrel? I do not 
 understand." I stripped myself of all mystery, and 
 stood before him the well-marked, naked Mucklebackit 
 in five flashes. After which, lamented the wee southern 
 wizard, in words like sad waters in lonely glens, up 
 among drear desolate hills " Oh, how exceedingly 
 unfortunate ! Samuel, were it not for the ties that 
 bind me to family, I would shake hands with ceremony, 
 and say good bye to all civil and social communions 
 their crippling forms and binding and thereby oppres- 
 sive punctualities, and join thee, noble boy ! in thine 
 enthusiastic and musical peregrinations over your own 
 romantic land, which " (He couldn't stop, there- 
 fore I took and stopped him.) "Your family, sir; 
 certainly. And another thing, I could not hear of 
 you going with me, because of Second Sight, sir. I 
 would not risk you with me in company with that 
 antipode of respectability, Second Sight, sir. The 
 villain wags in every hair of bis person ! He hath 
 only one honest spot in his body it is his heart, and 
 that because it can only hold one thing love for his 
 master (and with that it is already full to bursting), 
 the quaint bard before you." " You are," returned 
 
 he, " an interesting pair, and " " What do you 
 
 call yourself, Tarn ? " " Well, never mind. I shall, 
 Sam, never forget you. We can walk on and talk.
 
 no RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 First (do not linger), give me a touch of your 
 minstrelsy." I did. With hat in hand, hair stream- 
 ing, face glowing, and soul in the seventh heaven 
 first, " William Wallace," and then in pity of his 
 being an Englishman, " Flodden." (At present, I only 
 transcribe the first of these two) ; 
 
 WILLIAM WALLACE. 
 
 They slew thee did they ! Let it be ; 
 
 No more ; it cannot be undone ; 
 
 And, truly, could such fate you run, 
 'Twere ill to crave one breath for thee. 
 
 The Tyrant and the Hero sleep 
 Lift up thy Heavens, God, on high ; 
 Let Light abound and Darkness die, 
 
 And ward o'er all earth's ages keep. 
 
 The Tyrant and the Hero, then, 
 In undiminished justice show 
 The fiendish lust against the glow, 
 
 And truest, noblest love for men! 
 
 For high above all faction, thou, 
 And despite it thy purpose held 
 Through petty turmoil still unquelled, 
 
 The Hero rose we see him now ! 
 
 All power the worldling's power and gold, 
 To stoop and take were at thy feet, 
 Or early death defamed to greet, 
 
 And let sure time thy worth unfold. 
 
 And, all undoubting, death was ta'en 
 Through torture on a traitor's tree ; 
 Wallace ! never liberty, 
 
 For this forsakes our land again ! 
 
 After the songs, De Quincey shook me warmly by 
 both hands, spoke no words, but took an enormous 
 gold watch from his " spung " and handed it toward
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. in 
 
 me. " What do you mean 1 " I asked, observing that 
 he did not offer to explain himself. " I mean," said 
 he, " to present you with this, the only article of 
 value I have now in my possession, as a token of my 
 sympathy for your noble enthusiasm, and a little mark 
 of my admiration of your exalted courage and poeti- 
 cal genius." " Don't tell, sir, what I am," I replied : 
 " I know what I am and would have been, besides, 
 sir, but for my poor back, the greatest, the dreadest, 
 and the most profound sea scourge and pirate of this 
 or any former age I don't mind which, sir. Nep- 
 tune never had such a son. I would have raked 
 your seas. A price of ten thousands would have been 
 upon my head. Through black night, over the deep 
 I would ride supreme, and none but I Sam Muckle- 
 backit, the Dark Dread of both Poles ! Quincey, 
 knuckle in your trinket ; I will none of it. Out with 
 the real George, and hand me coin for my two songs. 
 One penny, British money, and no more. Thanks ! " 
 
 So saying, I walked briskly ahead, and caught the 
 boat just in the nick of time. We were steamed 
 across in the usual way. The Forth was as quiet as 
 a basin of milk. I took post behind the starboard 
 paddle-box, and Second Sight sat near on the bulwark 
 looking at me. The only incident of our voyage that 
 I have to note is this. Second Sight, having never 
 been to sea before, and consequently a lubber, jumped 
 overboard after a buoy, and a boy (myself) jumped 
 after him. We were both recovered, of course. 
 
 At Burntisland I commenced warbling at once, for 
 I was anxious to try my luck. However, after singing 
 myself hoarse through two streets, and seeing nobody, 
 I learned from an auld wife that it was their Fast 
 Day ! I disappeared. I visited, then, the spot where 
 Alexander III. fell from his horse and was killed. 
 The place is between Burntisland and Kinghorn, and 
 called the " King's Wood End." I now struck north- 
 east up the " Kingdom " to Cupar, in order to attend 
 the fair held there on the last Thursday of March ; 
 likewise to visit Falkland, where young Eothesay was
 
 H2 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 starved till he died. My success was but middling at 
 Cupar, and I shut up after selling three dozen copies 
 of various songs. As I was limping my way through 
 the fair at my leisure, after this, I heard a voice 
 directly behind me utter these words " Kyley, Kyley ! 
 saxteen pund for thae knurlin creatures. Hoot awa ! 
 Aye the auld Kyley Brown. Hoot awa ! " Kyley 
 Brown ! no man in Scotland I wished more to see, 
 and this is why. Donald Brown, of Perth, was an 
 adept at his trade a dealer in Highland and West of 
 Scotland cattle, hence his familiar cant name, " Kyley 
 Brown" but he did not always adhere to the 
 " Honesty's the best policy" mode in his transactions. 
 He had " done " my father most grievously at the last 
 Hallow Fair, but one, near Edinburgh. The story is 
 too long to tell, so suffice it to say that it proved Brown 
 to be an accomplished blackguard, if not actually a 
 forger. Often had I wished, and almost prayed, for 
 an opportunity to expose and mete out justice to this 
 heartless villain and here it was, and had come when 
 I was thinking nothing at all about it. A grand 
 thought struck me like an inspiration, and my plan 
 was made in an instant. He had a lot of about 
 seventy head of cattle on the stance. Slipping round 
 these, I got hold of one of his men and gave him a 
 glass. He told me his master was indeed the right 
 " Kyley," and no mistake, and all about him else 
 that I wished to know. After I had got my informa- 
 tion, I retired from the market, and composed the 
 song below. I then hired a man to write and supply 
 me with copies, for I intended to push their sale, and 
 my efforts met with the highest success. I borrowed an 
 old barrel, and carried it as near to Brown's lot of cattle 
 as possible. Upon this I mounted, and held forth to 
 an appreciating circle on the one theme (lecturing, 
 spouting, and singing) without intermission for five 
 long hours, for, with Secfond Sight at my foot, I feared 
 not the face of mortal man. After I had done, the 
 copies sold in bawbees, made the enormous sum of 
 eight shillings and tenpence sterling. Brown had
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 113 
 
 to remove his cattle from the market without selling a 
 single head. I heard many years after that he had 
 sold off and left for Australia, where he actually met 
 the doom spoken of in the rant, for being concerned, 
 along with twelve others, in the murder and robbery 
 of a gold-digging party returning to Melbourne. 
 
 KYLEY BROUN, 
 
 The Deceiving Drover of Perth. 
 
 a' ye men folk come to buy 
 
 At canny Cupar Fair, 
 Heilan cattle, stots, or kye, 
 
 Of your spare brass beware ! 
 There is a little Highlander 
 A man of lies and meikle stir; 
 Tak' ye tent beware o' "her," 
 
 An' keep an e'e aroun'. 
 
 He'll blaw his beasts up to the skies 
 
 Swear ilk ane 's ta'en ta Heilan' prize, 
 
 An' toss his heid this Man o' Lies : 
 
 As 'twerna Kyley Broun. 
 
 When he 's at hame, he flees aboot 
 
 An' buys up auld wives' kye 
 (Nae doubt he 'd steal them, tail an' clout, 
 
 If he but daur to try). 
 Within his byre, aff coat he flings, 
 
 An' binds ilk Crum wi' wicked strings 
 Frae ilka horn risps aff the " rings " 
 
 To ca' her young, the loon. 
 He'll blaw his beasts, &c. 
 
 Bis stirks he wiles frae Hielan herds 
 
 Wi' tales o' strong Glenlivet, 
 But when the barrel comes frae Perth, 
 
 There 's no a man will have it.
 
 ii4 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 He starves the young, he clips the auld 
 Dog-kennel patients gingers bauld, 
 No matter what if they're but said, 
 
 An' he can clear a croon. 
 He'll blaw his beasts, &c. 
 
 His waefu' mither's heart he'll break, 
 
 If it can break ava' ; 
 Her fine red head, I trow, alake ! 
 
 E'en now is streaked wi' snaw. 
 "Tis good to wish she mayna see 
 The destined doom that he maun dree, 
 When, racking at a gallows tree, 
 
 He birles canny roun'. 
 He'll blaw na', then, up at the skies 
 Swear she hath got ta Hielan' prize ; 
 But hing her heid this Man of Lies 
 As 'twerna Kylie Broun. 
 
 EARLY MANHOOD. 
 
 Many even more than commonly wonderful and as- 
 tounding experiences and adventures bei'el me on this 
 never-to-be-forgotten musical circuit ; but, though fain, 
 I may not linger at present to recall any of them. 
 For eighteen wild and distracting months my minstrel 
 peregrinations without break continued ; but when at 
 last these all had come and gone, I discreetly again 
 sought the home of my fathers, wisely resolving to 
 buckle to and settle down as a douce and canny agri- 
 culturist for life. Alas ! " the best laid schemes of 
 mice and men," &c. I had hardly tasted of home 
 comforts for more than one short twelvemonth, ere I 
 was once again beset and attacked by mine ancient 
 enemies an unendurable longing after travel, and 
 love of adventure. This time, however, my young 
 ambition soared a flight higher than formerly. I 
 coaxed and talked my old dad who was certainly no 
 curmudgeon into the belief (which I at that time 
 sincerely entertained myself) that I was not adapted
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 115 
 
 by nature for a farmer. I wanted (so I undauntedly 
 held forth) to enter and pursue a regular course of 
 college education, and then to flash out upon a 
 startled and admiring country as the most wonderful 
 lawyer or divine that ever was. The old man smiled 
 and sorrowfully demurred, muttering something half 
 audibly about his lack of siller, and then saying aloud 
 that he had spoken about me to a relation of his a 
 master mechanic. On the following Monday morning, 
 therefore, I entered the workshop of this relative as a 
 learner or apprentice, although I was neither bound 
 nor indentured. As I knew that I was free to leave 
 at any time, in a short space I considered myself far 
 enough advanced in the new profession to be able to 
 make my own way good in the world by following it 
 elsewhere. Consequently I again bundled up, and set 
 out for Edinburgh, in search of fresh fields and pas- 
 tures new. In the city, I accidentally, when turning 
 a street corner, knocked up against an old shopmate, 
 who also was in quest of employment. I proposed to 
 this restored friend whose name was Johnny Kirk 
 that we should, upon the spot, club our fortunes and 
 purses together, and start for London. After a hum-haw 
 or'two he assented ; and we left Leith that same night 
 on board the steam packet " Ossian," en route for the 
 Mighty Babylon. Unfortunately for this mad-cap 
 venture, we found on disembarking at the " Iron Gate 
 Steam Wharf," that the state of trade was even worse 
 there than in the north. For two long, weary weeks 
 we perseveringly threaded and plodded our way 
 through many thousands of the almost numberless 
 streets and thoroughfares of the monster metropolis 
 all in vain. Nothing, absolutely nothing, search as 
 we might, could be procured to do, either in our own 
 special line or in that of others ; and thousands of the 
 regular workmen, we were told, had suffered enforced 
 idleness and its consequences, for months prior to the 
 period of our own visit. I remember that, as we jogged 
 on our disconsolate march one day through the Strand 
 and Fleet Street, I attempted to rhyme the miserable
 
 Ii6 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 circumstances of our really appalling situation into a 
 melancholy laugh, this way : 
 
 Johnny Kirk an' Me 
 
 Sail'd far owre the Sea, 
 In a ship ca'd the " Ossian " by name ! 
 
 Noo Johnny Kirk an' Me 
 
 Pine far owre the Sea, 
 An' greet 'cause we canna win hame. 
 
 We ultimately contracted with the captain of the same 
 vessel we went up with to carry us back to Leith for 
 our labour on the passage. Whilst skirting St Abb's 
 Head on our run down, we were nearly lost in a 
 violent storm of wind, and only reached the Eoadstead 
 off Leith next morning after great damage had been done 
 to our masts and rigging, and after we had fatally 
 fractured our propeller. After a brief interval of 
 about three months in various districts of Scotland, I 
 re-entered London one fine morning this time "all 
 alone by myself" and succeeded in obtaining a situ- 
 ation on the very day of my arrival. However, it 
 soon became evident that I was " in for it again," for, 
 a " lock-out " taking place in the building trades 
 before I had been a " Cockney " two weeks, I was ere 
 long reduced to the greatest straits even, at one 
 time, being constrained to drag out existence for eight 
 days upon eightpence sterling ! At length, along 
 with another young Scotsman from Glasgow, I sprung 
 at and reached relief by engaging on board a steamer 
 trading between Sheerness and London. At the end 
 of six weeks our vessel was ordered to clear out for 
 Calais in France, upon a special commercial errand. 
 The skipper of this boat was an able navigator, but he 
 was also, alas, a man who was habitually given to 
 lifting to his lips an idol in the shape of a " big- 
 bellied bottle" of ginr We sighted Calais at two 
 o'clock one rather dark and breezy morning, and our 
 drunken captain resolved to run the ship straight into 
 port without waiting either for daylight or a pilot.
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 117 
 
 The result of this lamentable, it' not diabolical, deter- 
 mination was that we were cast adrift upon the rocks 
 and totally wrecked. Two-and-twenty, out of the 
 three-and-thirty men and boys on board, perished 
 including the skipper and I and the others were 
 picked up, floating on loose planks, by the fishermen 
 belonging to the coast. On my return to London 
 (where we were indemnified for all we had lost, at 
 Lloyds), I found the "lock-out" over, and so went 
 back to my old place in Westminster, where for the 
 two succeeding years I was employed by the same 
 firm in London and Aldershot, and various other 
 parts in England. But ominous clouds were muster- 
 ing thick and fast in Scotland, and I was recalled 
 home to Clover Riggs, where, less the time taken up 
 by visits to Ireland and America, I have been resident 
 as an agriculturist ever since. 
 
 After a perusal of the above confessedly naked and 
 matter-of-fact record, let not the just and intelligent 
 reader too hastily assume that the hero of it must 
 surely have been a despicably fool-hardy, reckless, and 
 unfeeling wretch, for assuredly no supposition could 
 well be wider of the mark. Underlying, and, in- 
 deed, producing the outward life outlined, by mere 
 dots as it were, in the foregoing relation, there was a 
 stratum of private and all-sufficient reasons. These 
 last have simply not been brought forward for lack of 
 room, and because the recital of them is not requisite 
 for the purpose of these papers. What is shown in 
 the brief narrative has been written solely with the 
 view of giving the reader an assurance and proof of 
 the author's extended experience of the world, acquired, 
 as that has been, in many near and distant parts, and 
 in various scenes and spheres of life ; and of his fitness 
 to guide, not as a mere book-taught scribbler, but 
 above all, as a veritable living observer and actual and 
 practical worker in those fields in which he intends 
 culling these remarkable, albeit, perhaps, somewhat 
 rhapsodically related " reminiscences."
 
 n 3 A URAL RHYMES AND SKE TCHES. 
 
 JOHN HOOTSMAN : "DOING" THE COUNTY IN A DAY ! 
 
 To invent and create, to create and invent, 
 To fancy, to feign, and to fable alway 
 
 Do not think now that Samuel ere that way is bent 
 He's a matter-of-fact writer this many a day ! 
 One whom strict truth doth sway 
 
 A plain, matter-of-fact scribe oh, this many a day ! 
 
 I was first introduced to John Hootsman " Cavalier 
 Jack," " Joking John," &c. at one of those intellec- 
 tual feasts of which I gave a sample in the last " re- 
 miniscence." Hootsman was, by a quarter of a century, 
 my senior, but was still a man in the prime of life, and 
 one who was in form and feature absolutely perfect. 
 His appearance was remarkably striking. Tall, well- 
 knit, muscular, and powerful, and with the air and the 
 bearing of a prince of Nature's own begetting, wher- 
 ever he went he fascinated, and was admired by the 
 people of all classes and degrees. His head and face 
 especially were a joy and a pride to look at ; although, 
 indeed, the whole outward man of this Scottish Adonis 
 was, even to the eye of the most learned and pernackety 
 connoisseur of human symmetry and beauty, alto- 
 gether as true to taste and as faultless as a flower, 
 when seen without his hat, and when he was excited, 
 his appearance, as he towered up aloft, was superla- 
 tively grand, noble, and heroic. At other times his 
 presence was amiable and "jolly,'' and exceedingly 
 pleasing, mantled as his visage ever was with a smile 
 of ineffable sweetness and goodwill. And while his 
 external man was thus so beautiful even god-like 
 the inner nature, the mind and spirit, were full worthy 
 of their splendid tabernacle. Truth, good-humour 
 (overflowing good - humour), faith, and staunchest 
 loyalty, all had a permanent and secure dwelling in the 
 heart of honest John Hootsman. There charity also 
 had her sacred and constant habitation. In the 
 country for miles and miles round, he was the living
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 119 
 
 idol of the people, one and all. He never had a single 
 enemy. If he had, he would have laughed and joked 
 him into a life-long worshipper before he had muttered 
 his first malediction ! In fact, it was simply psychologi- 
 cally impossible to hate this man, because he was just 
 a facetious angel who had left his celestial bowers, and 
 taken upon himself for a while the garb of humanity 
 merely for a joke. Intellectually, he was also a very 
 clever and well-informed fellow ; and, having suc- 
 ceeded to a very fertile and low-rented farm, and a 
 large sum of money, a very successful farmer. To 
 talk and discuss, and above all to jest with a fit and 
 capable friend, were to him the very life and breath of 
 his being. He would have withered and died in one 
 moon in a hermitage. To be in daily communion with 
 his fellows, and to be doing them good, were the in- 
 dispensable requisites of his existence. His weak- 
 nesses for I fear he was but a mortal after all were 
 a too fond love of jewellery and fine dress, harness and 
 riding horses, and eke the petticoa,ted portion of man- 
 kind, to whom last he was always as an Endymion 
 spang new from Elysium ; and the flutter of a lady's 
 dress was to Hootsman as the banner which beckoned 
 him back to Paradise ! At the period of my first 
 acquaintance with him he was a childless widower, 
 just on the shady side of five-and-forty. His wife had 
 then been deceased some twelve years. In his early 
 manhood he had sown some wild oats, and had also 
 executed some rather uncommon practical jokes upon 
 some of his friends ; and he first heard of Muckle- 
 backit as the writer of a ballad on a " joke " which 
 two or three of those friends played him in return. I 
 had often seen him prior to the night of our formal 
 introduction to each other, but never had spoken to 
 him. On the night in question, something which I 
 had said made him laugh vociferously, and he pre- 
 sently asked me if I would come over the following 
 night and have tea with him at his own place. I 
 readily acquiesced, and accepted, and accordingly met 
 him the next evening as appointed. Ere we parted, I
 
 120 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 guess we knew each other somewhat better than we 
 did previously ; and if both of us didn't laugh that 
 blessed night, why there is no such thing as laughter, 
 and mirth and merriment must mean mourning and 
 melancholy ! However that may be, this happened 
 anyway : Our clamorous and deafening hilarity, about 
 midnight, alarmed Hootsman's old housekeeper, who 
 alarmed about half-a-score of cantankerous curs and 
 collie dogs, which in their turn aroused and alarmed 
 all the cattle in the court, the cows in the byre, the 
 swine in the cruives, the horses in the stable, and the 
 cocks and hens, and ducks and geese in the henhouse, 
 and set the whole combined fraternity at once and 
 altogether a-jabbering, howling, barking, rowting, 
 grumphing, neighing, crowing, cackling, and quacking ! 
 Never since the steeple of old Babel collapsed was ever 
 such a confounded hubbub heard. And when Hoots- 
 man and I perceived what was up, we went out of 
 doors, and at it again worse than ever ! From that 
 first glorious night down to the present day our friend- 
 ship has continued, and never for one single hour have 
 we felt for each other anything but the sincerest love 
 and esteem. 
 
 When first Ave became " fast friends," Jack literally 
 fed upon my sea stories and " yarns," and I had to 
 spin them to him by the hour making myself, as 
 usual, the hero of nearly them all. He would say, for 
 instance, " Sam, were you ever in Turkey 1 " Now, I 
 would know perfectly well that he knew that I had 
 never been in Turkey, but I would never let on ; I 
 knew what he wanted a yarn about Turkey, or a 
 yarn having Turkey for its scene and therefore I 
 would answer, " Oh, bless your heart, yes, Jack ! " 
 &c., and instantly begin the recital of a mass of the 
 strangest and most ludicrous Oriental incidents and 
 adventures that I could on the moment invent ! 
 Theology was another of his hobbies, and indeed it 
 was the war steed on, or over, which we fought all 
 our verbal and only battles. Hootsman, naturally, 
 was an orthodox and sincere believer and ardent
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 121 
 
 upholder of all the truths or doctrines of Christianity 
 that is, according to St John, not the evangelist, 
 but himself and hence, for argument's sake, I gener- 
 ally espoused and advocated the new materialistic 
 ideas. When I ran him into a corner and then con- 
 troversally floored him, it was woful to behold this 
 grand, noble-souled fellow's dejection. He, at such 
 times, would cry, or rather moan, " But, then, Sam, 
 oh, Sam ! you surely do not believe yourself that what 
 you have just advanced is unanswerable ; do you ? 
 Oh, my God, if it were true ! " When I had brought 
 him to this doleful pass, I would quietly suggest that 
 it might not be true after all, and then proceed to 
 indicate how. As I unfolded my exposition, and the 
 mystery became plainer and plainer to him, the 
 shadows and sadness of despair would visibly flee his 
 god-like countenance, until eventually it would blaze 
 and beam all over with his inimitable, his preter- 
 natural happiness. The northern slopes of Traprain 
 Law (our " Ben Dumpender," as he fondly and 
 pawkily used to term it) were our usual meeting- 
 ground during summer. After a few minutes of the 
 roughest horse-play banter, when we used to lash and 
 ridicule each other unmercifully, the end of a quarter 
 of an hour would generally have us by the ears, and at 
 wordy loggerheads on one or other of the old topics 
 the " Vestiges of Creation," Darwin's " Development " 
 theory, " Geology and Genesis," &c., &c. When we 
 had exhausted ourselves on these profundities, we 
 would relapse by mutual consent into jesting and yarn 
 spinning (of which he was as fond as an imaginative 
 boy of ten), or talk about farming and horses. Hoots- 
 man was considered by most of his neighbours to have 
 a " splendid eye for a horse," particularly of the riding 
 or roadster sort, and certainly his own magnificent 
 stud, all bred and reared by himself, seemed not to 
 belie their high opinion of him. Shortly after we 
 became so very intimate, he possessed two gig or 
 harness hacks, which he felt convinced, he said, were 
 unmatched as fast trotters by all the horse-flesh in
 
 122 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Scotland ! One of them was an oldish black niare 
 " Floe " by name prick-eared, quick-eyed, wide- 
 nostriled, and rather mangy-tailed, which was, when 
 warmed in the harness, he would enthusiastically 
 declare, " a perfect tamed fury, a bridled hurricane, a 
 domesticated thunderbolt ! " One might think that 
 the old jade had suckled from a galvanic battery, and 
 had browsed ever afterwards upon telegrams ! &c. 
 The other, a bay gelding, rising six, and doatingly 
 denominated " Darling," was, both for " go " and 
 beauty, an out and outer, "teetotally." Call the groom, 
 fetch him forth, attach him betwixt the shafts of a 
 sound and safe gig, jump in ca, ha ! you were an 
 Apollo enthroned. You commanded a circle of fifty 
 miles behind him. Where to? Edinburgh? Very 
 well. Count the mile stones, and you were under the 
 shadow of the Calton before you had done ! He 
 danced and shone before you in the sunshine like a 
 vision of the morning. He might be yoked to the 
 burning car of Sol himself, and so forth. At the 
 conclusion of one of his equine inspirations, I one day 
 proposed to Jack that he should drive us all over the 
 county, and touch at all the " sights " and celebrated 
 places in one day. Hootsman gaped in startled and 
 silent amazement on hearing this wonderful proposi- 
 tion, and dumfounderedly stared me all over, and then, 
 with a burst, and explosion of laughter for which a 
 Joe Miller might have envied him, cried " By the 
 living Harry, Sam, we'll do it ! Jupiter and the 
 nine Syrens such a ploy ! We'll ding to duds the 
 ' Flying Scotchman ! ' Horrah ! We'll start with 
 Floe, and I can have Darling stabled ready for us 
 somewhere about half-way. What day will suit best, 
 Sam ?" "Next Wednesday," I answered, " is the 18th 
 of June Waterloo day let us do it that day, Jack." 
 " Oh, yes ! But, Sanij look here. You have made 
 your proposal, now please allow me to make mine. 
 I'll provide everything needful for our flying excursion 
 upon this condition only that you agree upon that 
 day to fulfil me an old promise ; the way you have
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 123 
 
 put me off and put me off is shameful, Sam, so it is." 
 " What's that ] " " Months ago," eagerly rejoined 
 Hootsman, " three long months ago you solemnly pro- 
 mised to give me a specific account a verbal and 
 accurate description from your own living mouth of 
 every sect, body, church, and denomination of the 
 whole Christian world. Now, Sam, you know how 
 desirous I am for this. Well, then, if you agree to 
 give it me on Wednesday as we drive along, I am 
 your man, but if not, neither Floe nor Darling budge 
 from the stable that day." " It is a hard task," 1 
 replied, hesitatingly, " the time is so short. But I'll 
 try it on, notwithstanding, for your sake, John 
 there's my hand." Hootsman beamed like a morning 
 star with rosy glee and radiant satisfaction as he 
 shook my hand over our bargain, and so we drove 
 over to Kidla on the eve of the ever-memorable Wed- 
 nesday (having with us, stowed away in the " boot " 
 of the gig, a little clever, dwarfish, "auld-f arrant" crow- 
 herd boy ready to be pulled out and set to " haud the 
 horse " when needful), intending to rest with our 
 friend, Mr Jenkinson, over night, and begin the 
 " run " by setting out for Lammerlaw betimes in the 
 morning ; for, be it known, our self-imposed one day's 
 task included making the ascent of the three highest 
 " laws" and bathing in the three largest lochs of the 
 county. 
 
 ALL BAST LOTHIAN " DONE " IN ONE DAY ! 
 
 Simultaneously with our departure on foot from the 
 stackyard of Kidla, I began my comprehensive, if not 
 exhaustive, elucidation of all the different sects of 
 Christendom, and ere we had gained .the summit of 
 this monarch of the moors, I had made clear to the 
 quick perception of Jack the characteristic tenets of 
 along with all the differences which divide all the 
 Christian churches upon the Godhead or personality 
 of the Deity. " At this rate," cried Hootsman, as we 
 wheeled round the Cairn without stopping, and began 
 the descent, "at this rate the whole sectarian host
 
 124 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 albeit numerous, as they are, as the sheep on these 
 hills will not hold out as far as Dunbar. To make 
 up, let us lilt an extempore verse, Sam, at each halt 
 alternately you first." " Ha, Hootsman, you are a 
 terrible task-master ; but all right. Stride out, man, 
 stride out ! Now, listen 
 
 " From Lammerlaw they start, this fair June morn, 
 
 'To do ' the County, like two ancient knights, 
 Some deed of high devoir ! All risks they scorn, 
 
 And in the toil their very soul delights ! 
 Jack Hootsman is a champion naught affrights, 
 
 He 'd laugh with death, and jeer the funny fate 
 That made Mm death ! The other of the wights, 
 
 He of the back so muckle, rough and great, 
 Why ! he 'd all Europe ' do ' with Hootsman for a 
 mate." 
 
 The Hermit (our little groom boy) by the time we 
 reached Kidla had Floe ready yoked, and jumping at 
 once to our several positions, and nodding ta-ta to 
 old Mr Jenkinson, we drove off and reached the 
 "Goblin Ha'" by the time I had discoursed of the 
 Calvinists. Hootsman 
 
 We breakfasted this morn in " Goblin Ha'," 
 And made the old hole ring with our guffaw ; 
 Had grim Sir Hugh but heard us roaring there, 
 He 'd sworn the " Goblin's Ha' " were turned a mad- 
 man's lair ! 
 
 Tumbling again the Hermit into his cave, crack went 
 the whip, forth flew Floe, whirl, whirl, wilder and 
 wilder went the wheels, and we bathed our faces and 
 other parts in Danscan Loch by five in the morning 
 
 Dookin' in Danscan oh, and och ! 
 
 Dookin' in Danscan early 
 Up to the neck- in the cauld water loch, 
 
 Gar't Jack an' Sam nicher fairly. 
 
 Jehosaphat ! it was " cauld," but a race in Nature's 
 attire only, along the woodside, made us glow like two
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 125 
 
 Equatorial savages. Via Carfrae and Garvald to 
 Nunraw. A pretty rough road, on which we were 
 both much startled by a strange noise beneath. It 
 was the Hermit rattling about in the " boot," with 
 the swing and motion of the gig, like a pea in a child's 
 " luggie." On this section I knocked off the Armi- 
 nians, Baxterians, and Antinomians to the satisfaction 
 of Hootsman and myself. Hootsman carols 
 
 NUNBAW GLEN. 
 
 Her sylvan loveliness the queen, 
 
 Hath here her chosen abode ; 
 And she has rieved, to deck the " glen," 
 
 The whole world's sweets abroad. 
 
 With admiration filling our hearts like a fountain and 
 overflowing in our eyes, we turned our backs upon the 
 enthralling Nunraw Glen, and my deliverance on the 
 Papists was just completed, when we halted for an 
 instant while I shouted this impromptu epigram at 
 
 Red, rolling Whittinghame, with house and tower, 
 Embowered in fairest leafage Nature's dower ! 
 Here grows the tree where Kirk o' Field was plann'd 
 And here's the spot where Sam stood and cried, "grand ! " 
 
 Floe again heaved her head on high, tossed her pin 
 tail, shook a little her lithe and limber limbs, and, 
 almost ere we knew we were in motion, drew up at 
 the western angle of Traprain Law Jack and I 
 alighting to make the ascent, pass over the summit, 
 and rejoin the hermit with the gig near Luggate. 
 During the hurried clamber to the top, I managed to 
 din into his willing ears my dissertations on the Greek 
 and Episcopalian faiths, and then seeing the Auld 
 Hame at our very feet, sitting like a hen upon her 
 nest, I sighed 
 
 Auld Clover Riggs ! thy cleuchs and craigs, 
 Green haughs and winding river ! 
 
 To-day adieu, an hour or two 
 Sam shall forget thee never !
 
 126 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Ere we remounted our machine, Jack requested me, 
 as a great favour, to kneel down and repeat in his 
 hearing my 
 
 ADDRESS TO TRAPRAIN LAW. 
 
 Hail ! venerable, ample, steadfast friend 
 
 Dear as a mother's form is thine to me, 
 So, as a child might, at thy foot I bend, 
 
 To pour this lay of filial love to thee. 
 Thou wast the wonder of mine infancy, 
 
 And tho' in youth afar I drifted hence, 
 Again thou art my sacred mount to be 
 
 Mine own Parnassus whose high grottos whence 
 The muse mature may sweep the universe immense ! 
 
 At the end of this the first stanza, I arose, being not 
 too well pleased with my kneeling posture, at a dyke- 
 side, and in open broad day. Hootsman was hotch- 
 ing with half-suppressed laughter, and I saw at once 
 that he had befooled me this time the sly rascal ! 
 "When fairly en route for Pressmennan, I said, just the 
 least touch riled, " Mr Hootsman, may I inquire what 
 was the cause or the subject of your unbounded and 
 somewhat vulgarly expressed mirth just as we were 
 leaving Traprain 1 " Hootsman at this flung the reins 
 on the splash-board, and became utterly helpless with 
 triumphant merriment. " Sam," said he, " yon was 
 the finest sight I have beheld to-day ? What a devil 
 of a saint you would make, Sam ! Not a carle in the 
 whole calendar of Borne could hold a candle to you ! " 
 &c., &c. At Pressmennan we stripped, and I swam 
 from the boat-house to the western end of the lake 
 and back, while Jack, who was no swimmer, waded 
 in over his knees, plumped into a sudden hole, and 
 nearly drowned himself. On our rapid run from 
 Pressmennan to Biel, the hermit shot his hispid and 
 hirsute head out of his lonesome cavern, and said 
 he wanted a drink. Hootsman carelessly and impru- 
 dently handed him his brandy flask, and the thirsty 
 anchorite left not so much in it as would have wetted
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 127 
 
 a midge's wing ! When we pulled him into day- 
 light at Biel, he was as sober as a donkey ! and Jack 
 swore that he himself felt as hungry as a cadger's one. 
 Therefore 
 
 Umbrageous Biel ! where roams the startling deer, 
 Fain, as in Eden, would we linger here ! 
 But hunger, like the flaming sword, afar 
 Drives us from thee food seeking to Dunbar ! 
 
 Despite our hunger, however, we drove without halt- 
 ing right through Dunbar, and visited in rapid succes- 
 sion Broxmouth, Doon Hill, Dunglass, Pease Bridge, 
 and the Cove ; and ere we had reached Dunbar on 
 our return, I had thrust forward my ecclesiastical dis- 
 quisition as far as the Seceders having, since leaving 
 Biel, expounded and expatiated upon the religious 
 dogmas and beliefs of the following English Dissenters 
 the Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists, Pasdo- 
 baptists, and Quakers; together with the Auld Kirkers, 
 Free Kirkers, and Seceders of Scotland. After en- 
 during untold agonies from a short drive which we 
 made through the (at that time) disreputably paved 
 streets of this historically famous burgh by the sea, we 
 drew up at the George Hotel, where the incomparable 
 Floe, having done her forty-five miles good, was 
 released and put to stable, without having a " turned 
 hair!" We then straightway devoured or "bolted" 
 a leg of mutton and a large loaf, drank a dozen of ale, 
 crammed internally and externally the invaluable 
 hermit with suction and provisions, replenished our 
 own flasks, lighted our meerschaums, and were orf 
 again Jack this time giving the verse : 
 
 Dunbar, thou 'st shook us o'er thy stony street 
 As rough as thy Town Council when they meet ! 
 We 've seen thy Shore and Doon Hill far away 
 We leave both thee and them unmourn'd to-day ! 
 Thy Castle and Black Agnes, both adieu 
 Agnes was black, but we 're bruised black and blue ! 
 
 When we resumed our energetic tour, I found that we
 
 128 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 had now " Darling " before us for a courser and such 
 a darling! He was of a bright, pale brown com- 
 plexion, and with Jack for a charioteer, he seemed, in 
 the sparkling sunshine, really to flash, and flicker, and 
 fly before us like the flaming steed of Aurora herself. 
 We overtook and left behind a London mail train 
 before we turned north on the Tynninghame road. 
 The hermit, in his roomy retreat below, rattled and 
 rumbled about like an incipient earthquake. At Tyn- 
 ninghame we charitably halted and asked him if he was 
 not dead ? He laughed albeit his mouth was stuffed, 
 like a burst potato, with cookies and said, " No ! it 
 was only his shoon." We drove enraptured through 
 these magnificent grounds 
 
 Where glorious woods, and holly hedges, 
 Spread intermingled to the shore ; 
 
 With noblest parks, green lawns, and ridges, 
 A maze of splendour to adore ! 
 
 At Whitekirk, something in the idea of a " holy well '' 
 (apart, of course, from any mineral or medicinal 
 virtues which are not claimed for this spring), to 
 which crowds of pilgrims from all the " airts " used to 
 resort to be cured, so tickled our risible faculties, that 
 neither of us could look at each other without obstre- 
 perously haw-hawing. And so, reprobating in our 
 heart of hearts even the appearance of irreverence, wo 
 made despatch, and disappeared from the venerable 
 scene and shrine of the ancient superstition ! 
 
 Here auld St Baldred preach'd, as legends tell ; 
 Here bubbled ance a far-famed " holy well ; " 
 And here, in modern times, twa pilgrims cam' 
 John Hootsman ca'd the tane, the tither, Sam ! 
 I wot they war' twa graceless pilgrims baith 
 They didna ocht but leuch in fun was a' their faith ! 
 They glowered a wee, but loot nae tear doon fa', 
 Syne bade Whitekirk fareweel, wi' ane great, grand 
 guffaw. 
 
 Hootsman, made poetical with sudden joy and wonder,
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 129 
 
 declared, rapturously, Balgone to be in verity the 
 sweetest spot, and withal the finest bit of picturesque 
 scenery in East Lothian, and I felt it impossible to 
 contradict him. We bathed our hands and faces in 
 the then recently formed, but already 7iiost lovely and 
 romantic loch, and then tore ourselves sorrowing away, 
 absolutely enchanted with the rare beauty and even 
 grandeur of Balgone. As I had composed the two 
 last farewells, Hootsman cleared his craig and gave the 
 one for Balgone, with sentimental tears streaming 
 down his cheeks, as follows : 
 
 bonnie Balgone, thou bonnie Balgone ! 
 Wha wadna lo'e thee, thou bonnie Balgone ] 
 On the fair briest o' London thou shinest alone, 
 A gem that is peerless, thou bonnie Balgone ! 
 
 Which presently I answered with 
 
 Ay ! bonnie Ba'gone, bonnie Ba'gone, 
 
 He grat for to leave thee our "jokin 1 John !" 
 
 An aye, 'tween his sabs, I heard him make moan 
 When I'm gone frae Ba'gone, / shall be be-gone ! 
 
 Issuing by the eastern gateway, we wheeled to the 
 north ; Darling, for a merry minute or two, made the 
 musical earth his dancing board, and 
 
 Sheer prone from the deep, all naked on high 
 
 Tantallon. 
 
 Tower'd, pile upon pile, from his rocky lie, 
 
 To frown on the ages hurrying by 
 
 Tantallon. 
 
 Ah ! the train of old Time but brushes thee ; 
 
 As the years have thy dust, still grander be 
 
 A wonder of eld, by land or by sea 
 
 Tantallon. 
 
 As our survey of the melancholy ruins of this once 
 impregnable " strength " of the heroic Douglases had 
 rilled our minds with sad and serious thoughts, we 
 both sat us down to recover our wonted cheerfulness, 
 and enjoy a five minutes' stare at the Bass, on the
 
 130 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 high table-land overlooking the sea immediately to the 
 \vest of the Castle. 
 
 Two patriarchs, .they sat and gazed upon the Eock ; 
 
 Jack did not joke, and Samuel never spoke ; 
 
 Yet down below, the sea in vague-heard laughter broke. 
 
 Anon, they both arose, and Sam he sigh'd, " alas ! 
 
 How far doth Nature's work the best of man's sur- 
 pass 
 
 See Douglas' stronghold here, and Nature's there 
 the Bass ! " 
 
 Not being in quest of fish or guano that day, we did 
 not enter the right royal burgh of North Berwick, but 
 buckled to, instead, to the ascent of its conical and 
 most picturesque Law, which we duly accomplished, 
 and stood, hand in hand, under the whale's jaw on its 
 summit just as our watches pointed to twelve o'clock 
 noon. And here, as my allotted space is already more 
 than occupied, I must reluctantly bid adieu to all my 
 readers. 
 
 The northern, western, south-western, and middle 
 regions of the county were all overhauled and visited 
 by us on the same day not one single place or spot, 
 famous either for its historical associations or its 
 natural scenery, being omitted. My description of the 
 various Christian sects came to an end on the old 
 battle-field of Prestonpans. The invaluable little 
 hermit reached home with all the life not quite shaken 
 out of him, but dreadfully swollen with his day's 
 gluttony. Hootsman slept for three days without 
 waking, and I was as " hoarse as a hoodie " with 
 speechifying, for a whole week afterwards. 
 
 FARMING LANGSYNE. 
 
 When gloomy dooi lies heavy on the heart, 
 An' darkens a' the warld to our e'e, 
 How fondly backward do our fancies start 
 An' revel in the realms o' memory !
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 13 r 
 
 The golden days o' yore we live again 
 We trace sweet childhood's paths an' flowery plain 
 We rin ance mair the raids our boyhood ran 
 We haunt the haunts o' our romantic youth 
 (That yett o' Eden, whaur real life began, 
 An' we war' thrust furth on this warld uncouth !) 
 We linger in the scenes, lang years forlorn, 
 Whaur early manhood strode, an' love was born, 
 An' still the mair is loved the mair we tine 
 That glamourie buskit time dear hallow'd Auld Lang- 
 syne ! 
 
 High-class farming, in the old acceptation of the 
 terra, has proven itself a fallacy. Twenty-five or 
 thirty years ago Scottish agriculture was believed to 
 be approaching the hey-day of its prosperity, but the 
 promise which induced this belief was a false one ; 
 and, moreover, was one of the direct causes of the 
 present disastrous depression. During the period of 
 the Crimean War, and for some time after, our farmers 
 grew great in purse and power, and too often became 
 puffed with pride also. With wheat at 80s., barley at 
 60s., beans at 60s., and oats at 40s. per quarter, and a 
 ready sale at even these quotations, the agriculturist 
 thought he had got the dour, hard world at last at his 
 feet like a football, and that he might play with it and 
 kick it henceforth how and whithersoever he liked. 
 In those glorious days, too, turnips were rarely known 
 to fail ; labour was about a half cheaper than now ; 
 large sums were annually realised from the potato 
 "break;" and the bill for artificial manures was 
 practically nil. Happy were the men, and fortunate, 
 who had entered upon new leases just prior to this 
 period, for upon the outbreak of hostilities with 
 Russia, land suddenly and startlingly rose in the 
 market, and ere long bounded up far higher than all 
 preconceived possible values. In known scores of 
 instances, letting farms doubled, trebled, and quad- 
 rupled their former rents, the result being, of course, 
 that their poor deluded occupants in a few years after
 
 132 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 the transient blink of good fortune and princely prices 
 had passed away were face to face with ruin, or at 
 the feet of their landlords, piteously supplicating 
 mercy and " abatements." But all those tenants who 
 had secured farms previous to the war flourished on in 
 wonderful prosperity till the year 1859 the year of 
 the first great turnip failure and even, albeit with 
 less abundance, the major part of them continued to 
 hold their own easily down to the supremely calami- 
 tous season of 1872. From that year onward agri- 
 culture throughout the whole country has become 
 more and more unprofitable and depressed, until, at 
 the present day, the business of the British farmer 
 has got to be, in sad truth, one of the most trouble- 
 some, hazardous, and unremunerative of professions. 
 Speaking at present more particularly of East 
 Lothian, I advisedly assert that the system of cultiva- 
 tion pursued in the county for at least a generation 
 back, has been, and continues to be, a prominent and 
 leading cause of the disastrous collapse now being 
 endured. When potatoes at first began to be grown so 
 extensively, large money returns were easily and 
 commonly obtained. The soil then was unexhausted, 
 had never been artificially stimulated or unnaturally 
 forced as it is now ; and, moreover, it was new to the 
 potato, and the potato was new to it, therefore, in 
 favourable seasons, enormous crops were successfully 
 and cheaply produced. The potato in this way became 
 a main factor in raising the hire of land. The vicious 
 custom of growing hay on, and selling it off, the farm 
 to the extent which has been common for many years 
 hitherto, has also exercised a most unhappy influence 
 upon the fortunes of the present generation of East 
 Lothian husbandmen. In other days, under a more 
 provident and far-seeing husbandry than that obtain- 
 ing now, one crop of hay only used to be taken from 
 the grass break, after which it was depastured for two 
 years. This rested and allowed the land to recover 
 its wasted fertility, and rendered the application of 
 "artificial manures" (even had such cheats, as they
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 133 
 
 too often are, been then known, which they were not) 
 to the immediately succeeding crops unnecessary. The 
 late fallacious plan, too, of growing, or rather attempt- 
 ing to grow, all sorts of crops indiscriminately on clay 
 soils has affected detrimentally the bank accounts of 
 not a few of our agriculturists. At first, and concur- 
 rent with suitable seasons, no doubt good crops of 
 turnips were here and there, and now and again, raised 
 on stiff clays. We admit that readily ; but can it be 
 done now ? or, if done, at what expense is the un- 
 natural feat accomplished 1 Enquire of any clay-land 
 farmer in the county who has been trying it for a few 
 years no matter who he is and you will be made 
 downcast and melancholy by the sad story of his hard 
 and miserably requited struggles, if not his ruinous 
 failures. I do sincerely compassionate and sympathise 
 with these poor fellows, for they in most cases took 
 their places in the earnest belief that turnips and 
 potatoes could be grown as heretofore. But the fact 
 is indisputable (and not at all inexplicable) that the 
 land will not now crop as it did formerly, let the 
 season be what it may ; and this is true of almost every 
 acre in East Lothian. The soil is spent and exhausted 
 by "cross-cropping," potato, hay, and turnip growing, 
 and refuses now, through sheer inability, to yield its 
 abundance as of old. For unless the fertility and fecun- 
 dity of our fields be maintained with liberal periodical 
 manuring, and occasionally resting them either by 
 fallowing or pasturing, the present system of heavy- 
 cropping, " cross-cropping," and then attempting to 
 restore them with " Ichabo," " dissolved bones," and 
 ground down chuckie stanes from Portobello or 
 Granton, must sooner or latter inevitably result in 
 disaster to the cultivator, and at least for a time in 
 the deterioration if not ruin of the soil itself. In the 
 days of which I am now writing, seldom or never was 
 an agricultural bankrupt heard of in these regions. 
 Indeed, the unwise methods alluded to above were 
 just then instituted, and were other than hurtful to 
 the pockets of their friends at first their ultimately
 
 134 RURAL RHYMES AA 7 D SKETCHES. 
 
 baneful, nay, fatal effects not having had time to prove 
 themselves. And, therefore, with the new modes 
 and the war prices, all was life, and stir, and gaiety 
 throughout East Lothian. Everybody was employed, 
 every merchant and tradesman was " thrang " and 
 flourishing, and the wages and emoluments of all 
 classes were rising fast. The market at Haddington 
 every Friday was a mingled scene of easy, joyous 
 business, and dinsome, boisterous jollity. Farmer met 
 farmer, and gleefully recounted to each other the large 
 sums they each had individually netted for potatoes, 
 or grain, or live stock. The coachmakers were over- 
 whelmed with " orders," for every cultivator of a kail- 
 yaird was proudly going in for a gig, or a " machine " 
 even. The clothiers, tailors, milliners, and mantle- 
 makers were a particularly busy and thriving tribe, 
 for all the wives, sweethearts, spinster sisters, and 
 mothers-in-law of agriculturists strove and vied with 
 one another as to who could come out the " brawest " 
 and they all attained the " braw " at anyrate. Hun- 
 dreds, and even thousands of pounds sterling were 
 everywhere expended in draining and otherwise im- 
 proving farms, and too often in ruining the improvers. 
 The getting into a farm, even only as tenant, was 
 considered by most people as being equivalent to 
 securing an establishment and competency for life. 
 The rage for land was boundless and epidemical, and 
 agitated all classes under that of actual proprietors. 
 When a farm had been advertised for a week or two, 
 scarcely anyone felt surprised when he heard that a 
 hundred or two hundred offers had been given in for 
 it. Those were the- ranting times of brief courtships, 
 early bridals, glorious feasts, foys, club and curling 
 suppers, private and association dinners, tea and even- 
 ing parties, dances, kirns, Ttirsenings, Hallowe'ens and 
 Hansel Mondays. On my return to Scotland I 
 assisted at not a few of Ihese jollifications in the neigh- 
 bouring farm houses, and I will conclude this rather 
 ramshackle and rigmarole reminiscence by recalling 
 and recounting the doings at one of those rustic revels
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 135 
 
 a fair average specimen, of hundreds of others of a 
 similar character. 
 
 About a year or so after my first introduction to that 
 everybody's bosom-crony, John Hootsman, we were 
 both of us invited to a supper-party which was to be 
 given by the farmer, or the farmer's wife, of Blae- 
 braes. The celebrated tenant of this renowned hold- 
 ing is a retired small country schoolmaster, who 
 rejoices in the sedate and appropriate sobriquet of 
 Thomas Pintail. He and I, even then, had long 
 known each other, for I had been under his tuition 
 years before, as a pupil in his lower calsses. At the 
 time of the festival in question, he had held the farm 
 for some four or five years, and had, so far, succeeded 
 astonishingly considering the fussy, cranky, gossip- 
 ing character of the man. The energetic nature of his 
 better-half, no doubt, would constitute an earnest of 
 success from the beginning, for Agnes (or, still better 
 known, far and wide, " My Nanny, O ! ") was and is 
 to the "Dominie" more than a common "helpmeet" 
 for, in fact, she is his "guardian angel," his law- 
 giver, and, I believe, when he wanders astray (which 
 he will do fifty times in a month), his rescuer, judge, 
 and jailer also. Under an outside of querulous 
 " cursedness," and perpetual scolding sauciness, how- 
 ever, one can easily detect in the dame a deep under- 
 lying feeling of respect and devotedness for the fidgety, 
 factious, and polemical Dominie. For the unique pair 
 combined the two as one in holy matrimony really 
 constitute a personage fit to fight the battle of life right 
 wisely and right well. What Tammas lacks Nanny 
 possesses to overflowing, and vice versa. Their family 
 of two sons and one daughter were, by the date of the 
 supper-party, all grown-up, and well settled in Edin- 
 burgh and Glasgow the daughter being married to a 
 surgeon, a nephew of Hootsman's. Of Thomas Pintail 
 the " Dominie " himself, it is extremely difficult to 
 give you, my gentle reader, anything like a correct 
 idea, because the subject is such a whisking, shifting, 
 fluctuating, flexile, " drouprumpleb," bespavined, chat-
 
 136 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 tering, clattering will-o-the-wisp mortal withal. Never- 
 theless, I will tackle to him. and afford you the best 
 description of the famous P. T. that I can give. 
 Imagine, then, a very long, thin, stooping old man, 
 habited in buckled shoon, blue hose, worsted-cord 
 knee-breeches, a snuff-coloured swallow tailed coat, 
 having a high-peaked collar reaching to a level with 
 the crown of his head behind, and of a fashion obsolete 
 long prior to Waterloo, and a dingy-coloured " lum " 
 hat, also of prehistoric shape and antiquity. The 
 features of this perplexing human oddity are as keen 
 and sharp as those of a greyhound. His brow is over- 
 hanging and shaggy at the eyes, and recedes a little ; 
 the eyes themselves are small, eager, and piercing as 
 those of a weasel, and are of a blue-grey tint ; he wears 
 no beard, not having one to wear ; his whiskers are 
 scarcely a half crop ; his chin is prominent, small, and 
 peaked ; his mouth, which was at one time full and 
 large, is now toothless and entirely fallen in ; and 
 there is everlastingly a snuffy drop pendant at the 
 very extreme tip of his high, long, long nasal organ. 
 Such, as true as I can depict it, is the external ap- 
 pearance of this long-limbed, large-handed, and very 
 splay-footed Spectre the "Dominie" of Blaebraes. 
 He is of an unknown, but immense age. People of 
 fifty and sixty years declare to me that he was a very 
 old man when they were in leading-stings, and some 
 think him to be the true " Wandering Jew ! " Be this 
 as it may, the inward nature of this giant " forked 
 radish " answers well to its outward aspect. Above 
 all, he is combative and argumentative to the last 
 degree, and Avould split religious or political hairs 
 with a Hottentot. He is pretty deeply read and in- 
 formed in general literature, and chokeful of petty 
 sectarian history. He ia also one of the shrewdest 
 observers I ever knew, and no doubt, had his reflec- 
 tive faculties been anything like equal to his percep- 
 tive ones, he would have made himself known even to 
 a wider circle than he has done. Lastly, he is of a 
 most curious, prying, inquisitive, and vain disposition ;
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 137 
 
 and nothing delights him more than to ferret out some 
 rara avis, or local "celebrity," pump him dry, and 
 then surreptitiously to report the whole interview 
 with added flourishes of his own to the public press. 
 In this way he has reported not a little of my own 
 talk and other doings in his day ; but as he is, upon 
 the whole, a good colloquist and an attentive listener, 
 I did not altogether discourage him. One is often 
 glad to discover in the solitudes of the country a fit 
 and convenient albeit cracked receptacle into which 
 one can disgorge his overcharged harrigals of their su- 
 perfluous cogitations. Hootsman called upon me about 
 three in the afternoon of a fair, but very bleak and 
 cold, November day, and we immediately set off on 
 foot for Elaebraes. When we reached the steading, 
 we found that we were rather early, and so we 
 lighted our pipes in the cart-shed, and stood puffing 
 and criticising the arrivals awhile ourselves unseen. 
 The first lot that fell under our inspection was a 
 groaning gigful comprising a father, son, and three 
 daughters, of the musical name of Clods, and hailing 
 from the upland farm of Teuchcleuch simple, homely- 
 looking people, with plenty of bone, and colour of a 
 red-sandstone description. The second cargo was a 
 noddyful of Truehearts consisting of father, mother, 
 two sons, and two daughters from the farm of Leal- 
 muir. This lot was exceedingly respectable, good- 
 looking, and tastefully dressed, and were reputed to 
 be all famous singers. The third arrival the last 
 one we were able to take cognisance of was made up 
 of a batch of merry merchants and mechanics from 
 Haddington, one of whom Robie Hutchie enjoyed 
 the enviable reputation amongst his friends of being 
 the " best singer of a Scottish song in the country." 
 Hootsman and I stepped out and joined the " toun 
 bodies," and, with them, immediately passed into the 
 " big house." After the usual hand-shaking, and the 
 proffer of a " taste " from the hands of our wide- 
 awake hostess, all round, we all ranged ourselves as 
 we pleased in seats at the sides of a long white-
 
 138 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 draped table in the dining-rooin, and partook of 
 " baps," cakes, " scones," cookies, buns, shortbread, 
 and goodly whangs of gouda cheese, together with a 
 plentiful supply of boiling hot tea. We would 
 number a company of about thirty people all told 
 the girls, in their low white dresses, being absolutely 
 ravishing; and the elderly maidens and matrons, in 
 gorgeous and many coloured silks, lagging not far 
 behind them, and blooming like winter apples. Pin- 
 tail sat at the head of the table like the smoked 
 apparition of Abraham Lincoln, and " My Nanny, ! " 
 at the foot, sat frowning defiance at the whole band 
 of us. No incident worth mentioning transpired 
 during the drinking of the cup that cheers saving 
 that Miss Grizzy Clods (from the upland farm of 
 Teuchcleuch), whilst foolishly attempting to make 
 some reply to Jamie Trueheart (from the farm of Leal- 
 muir), when her mouth was stuffed with shortbread 
 and gouda cheese, unwittingly allowed a handful of 
 these palatable edibles to slip down her windpipe, 
 and came near choking herself. I held her head over 
 a chair, and thumped her back till I was blue in the 
 face. She recovered, laughingly. This same start- 
 ling incident, however, was a god-send to the tea- 
 drinkers, amongst whom was painfully discernible a 
 pitiable amount of youthful shyness and rustic 
 awkwardness. The young folks especially were 
 bashfully stiff and ceremonious, and seemed to be ill 
 at ease in their positions. But Miss Grizzy's mishap 
 appeared to have acted upon, and dispersed like magic, 
 the entire troop of these somewhat ill-bred emotions, for 
 from that time forth all the lads and lasses gaggled 
 and giggled like a perfect cleckin' of young ducks. 
 The company kindly waited until I had placed myself 
 outside my seventh cup of "jit/' and then we all 
 arose in one body and repaired pell-mell into the large 
 parlour, which had been previously fitted up as a 
 dancing-room with a table and chairs at the far end 
 for the elders. Here we discovered our orchestra a 
 tall, ungainly-looking, white-headed old man, yclept
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 139 
 
 Bauldy Yorston (a poor jobbing gardener, well-known 
 in these parts), screwing the pegs and waxing the 
 bow of his dingy fiddle with masterful vigour. 
 
 In a few minutes this musical Adam, hoisted on a 
 chair placed upon a table which was set in the niche 
 of the window, began proceedings by sawing out of 
 his very wooden frying-pan a species of confusion of 
 jarring notes, by compliment termed an "air," but 
 the name of which was fortunately only known to 
 himself. To this hubbub some half-dozen couples of 
 our company actually performed the beautiful dance 
 called " Triumph." After " Triumph," the " Flowers 
 of Edinburgh " was danced to " music " resembling 
 that which may be supposed to have come from a 
 bearded old wife when being burned at the stake for 
 diabolical witchcraft. At these two excruciating 
 exploits I did not assist, but amused myself instead 
 with supplying our exalted Paganini with large 
 noggins of strong whisky punch, in the dear hope 
 that he would get " fou " and fall from the table and 
 break his neck. But I was disappointed, for although 
 he emptied a dozen of tumblers, the toddy but spurred 
 him to further exertions, and he continued to the last 
 as compos mentis as a London Arab, and as musical as 
 a sawsharper. 
 
 But now there arose a cry for a common reel, on 
 hearing which the ancient gutscraper whisked up his 
 lunatic cremona, and elbowed out of it a new arrange- 
 ment of what was dimly recognised to be a bar or two 
 of the " Highland Laddie." As this dance was only 
 to be a "common reel," I calmly resolved to have a 
 shake. For this purpose I cleeked up our energetic 
 hostess, the redoubtable "Agnes," the irrepressible 
 " My Nanny, ! " to be my vis a vis, and so off we 
 bounded, jumping and thumping, and reeling and 
 wheeling galore. As we warmed to our work we 
 increased our speed, the old gardener sawed away 
 faster, faster, and still faster, and at length rose to his 
 feet and stood erect upon the table, plying his elbow 
 like a fanner crank, and hooching like a delirious Neil
 
 140 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Gow. In the fell hurry, furious movement, and wild 
 abandon of the reel, there is a catching, exhilarating 
 madness, which is perfectly delicious. I never was 
 aware of my own extraordinary suppleness till that 
 dance came off. My partner, as I said, was none other 
 than the illustrious " Mrs P." She is a tall, large- 
 featured, lean, gaunt, loose-jointed lady, and was at 
 that time as limber-limbed and agile as a colt. At 
 last the indomitable horticulturist sank down sheerly 
 exhausted into his chair, and the hard - breathing 
 gallants handed their rosy joes to their seats a row of 
 chairs placed close against the walls of the apartment. 
 " My Nanny, " lean, loose, and limber as she was 
 perspired and literally smoked like a well-boiled eel. 
 How I perspired myself, I wouldn't like to say in 
 print. Only, soon after that dance was over, I slipped 
 out on the sly, cast my coat, and drew off my shirt, and 
 wrung it dry into the burn two or three yards above 
 a deep pool. Next day that deep pool was found to 
 have been swept over night by a flood far out to sea, 
 where it was seen and mistaken for the head of the 
 great sea serpent. 
 
 When I entered the parlour they were singing songs, 
 and I was instantly mobbed and invited right and left 
 to give one. I shook my head, said I wanted some 
 toddy, and nodded at the same time significantly to a 
 young genius of my acquaintance. He at once under- 
 stood me, and, spinning to his feet, prophetically 
 screeched them off the following about the 
 
 NDNGATE BRIG. 
 
 For a relic dern an' doure, 
 
 For a fossil ticht an ; trig, 
 For an auld-warld humbug pure 
 
 Leeze me on the Nungate Brig ! 
 Oor Provost he's" a great man, 
 
 A great, great, great man ! 
 But ev'n his greatness fails to plan 
 
 A substitoot for Nungate Brig !
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 141 
 
 The drains an' water please us weel 
 
 They mak' oor Provost prood and big : 
 But hang me gin his craft or skeel 
 
 Can budge ae stane o' Nungate Brig ! 
 The brig it is a yauld cairn, 
 
 A yauld, yauld, yauld cairn ; 
 The Provost stammers like a bairn, 
 
 When he speaks o' the Nungate Brig ] 
 
 Rapturous applause followed this rant, and a six 
 pair waltz succeeded to melancholy music so melan- 
 choly, in fact, that if the old gardener had not been 
 sitting in the flesh straight before me, I would have 
 sworn he was on his death-bed, and howling for mercy 
 to the ghosts of all the tunes he had murdered in his 
 day. After this cart-wheel-wanting-grease squeak was 
 over, I coaxed our host upon his end to give us a song 
 as he had been guzzling toddy and yerping about 
 " Spiritual Freedom " with a Free Church tailor all 
 the evening. After stealing a furtive glance at 
 " Agnes," and seeing that she acquiesced, the bold old 
 dominie bravely stoitered to the middle of the floor, 
 and in a voice which broke upon our ears like a 
 mingled wail of woe and shout of joy from Bedlam, 
 screamed us off the following " original of his own," 
 anent 
 
 LINTON LYNN : 
 
 We had a wee pownie we had but ane, 
 An' when that ane crokit 0, we had nane ! 
 The siller's sae scarce aye an' hard to win 
 Dear Meg, what gar 't thou dee 1 
 
 "We draggit her doon to the banks o' Tyne, 
 An* wi' oor gleg gillies we skinn'd her fine ; 
 Arid intil the stream we whammel'd her syne, 
 A feast for troots to be ! 
 
 But that e'enin' a dreidfu' rain set in, 
 Sae the river neist day full spate did rin 
 An' aff soom'd oor pownie to Linton Lynn, 
 Aboot the hoor o' three.
 
 142 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 " Murder ! a murder if e'er there was ane ! " 
 The fock they a' cried, when, wantin' the skin, 
 They saw the auld pownie skyte ower the Lynn ; 
 A ghaistly sicht to see. 
 
 i 
 
 Syne wi' poles an' muck-hawks they a' did rin, 
 The " murdered manie " to grab oot the Lynn ; 
 But nocht but a pownie wantin' the skin 
 Could thae fule bodies see ! 
 
 This funny ballad of the queer funky, cantankerous, 
 and havering, clavering old dominie's was so well 
 received that it met with, an encore from the whole 
 company, but the ancient tawse-swasher pled weari- 
 ness, and promised he would after supper oblige us 
 with another, and so we let him go and join his old 
 corps at the head of the side table at the far end of the 
 room, where he sat till supper time brushing the im- 
 mortal drops from the end of his nose, and between 
 hands stirring up, and sipping at, a large basin of 
 whisky punch, and contending as if for dear life with 
 the tailor and a few of the elders of the party, that 
 the " South" would win in the War of Secession, 
 just then beginning in America. With his coterie I 
 became entangled several times before supper, but 
 was always in good time rescued by Hootsman, who 
 was, by common consent, silently installed and 
 acknowledged from the first, master of ceremonies, 
 and who was, indeed, the very life and moving 
 spirit of the fete. Some unseen, other-world agency 
 appeared to me to hover around and protect this 
 man. He apparently drank like the rest of us, and 
 we all drank to tell the truth inordinately ; and 
 yet, down to the very last, he was the soberest and 
 the merriest of the gathering not even excluding 
 the ladies. Following a polka, at which Jack did 
 and Sam did not assist, and which the indefatig- 
 able fiddler inspirited with an inimitable imitation 
 of " The Wind Shakes the Barley," the whole festal 
 party as one man called upon Hootsman for a song,
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 143 
 
 and he immediately complied, and breathed into this 
 simple little ditty of his own extraordinary music and 
 pathos 
 
 THE AULD CASCADE. 
 
 Atween the Abbey an' the toun 
 
 Fu' aft, langsyne, I stray'd, 
 To fish an' meet wi' Jeannie Brown 
 
 Alow the Auld Cascade. 
 Thro' a' Nature's silent boun's 
 A' the simmer nicht it souns ; 
 To the far aff farm touns 
 
 Sings the Auld Cascade. 
 
 For a fit woodland scene to meet 
 
 Ane's dear beloved maid, 
 Gie me theTyneside, lown an' sweet, 
 
 Alow the Auld Cascade. 
 There the dark woods cluster roun', 
 An' the stream gleams up an' doun, 
 Flowing loth to lea' the soun' 
 
 0' the Auld Cascade. 
 
 At ten o'clock we re-entered the dining-room and sat 
 down to supper, which exactly consisted of several 
 platters of sliced bread and pulverised potatoes, salt, 
 and the other usual condiments, together with a 
 mighty round of salt beef, a huge roast of mutton, a 
 vast beef steak pie, a large fat turkey also roasted, 
 a tremendous ham, and six monster fowls of the 
 Dorking variety, and a stupendous pigeon pie. These 
 savoury viands we washed down with bottled beer, 
 porter, and ale, brandy, rum, gin, whisky, and all 
 sorts of wines. And at last we finished off, by way 
 of dessert, with a colossal apple pie, a mountainous 
 plum pudding, and a princely and magnificent assort- 
 ment of creams, jellies, oranges, hazel nuts, apples, 
 raisins, figs, clagam, rock, sugar-candy, and all sorts 
 of sweetmeats. The long table was lighted with 
 three or four " moderator" lamps, and glistened with
 
 144 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 white pig plates and electro-plated ware. The 
 guests now appeared a much easier and happier lot 
 than they seemed at the tea-drinking. Intimacy, 
 supplemented with a little toddy, had done its work 
 well, and I believe a more mirthful assembly than we 
 were could not that night have been found within the 
 four seas. But there was no toasting or speechifying, 
 much to the disappointment of the dominie, who, I 
 noticed, was prepared with his shorthand book and 
 pencils for any emergency. Nothing would go down 
 with the young people save singing and dancing, and 
 dancing and singing all through. Hence, no sooner 
 was the last " cracker" pulled and gleefully tittered 
 over, than we all once more retreated to the parlour, 
 on entering which, our orchestra, the venerable 
 Bauldy who in the interval had been duly and fully 
 primed with good things in the kitchen was seen 
 perched aloft in his temple in the window niche, 
 renewed and reinvigorated, and ready for another 
 massacre of the immortals. After some dozen sets of 
 polkas, minuets, quadrilles, cotillons, jigs, strathspeys, 
 and other nonsense, had been tediously turned off, and 
 the intolerable gutscraper at last silenced by being 
 paid and dismissed to his home, the company settled 
 itself down for an hour's serious singing. [By-the- 
 bye, may I here parenthetically respectfully ask the 
 experienced reader if, in the middle classes of Scot- 
 land, the great number of fairish and really passable 
 singers has never astonished him ? It has more than 
 astonished myself, again and again ; and now I believe 
 the Scotch to be one of the most, if not the most, 
 musical and poetical of peoples witness our matchless 
 ballads and love lyrics. But whilst this is so, I think, 
 indubitably, the culture of this almost universal gift 
 has been hitherto lamentably disregarded in Scotland. 
 At whose doors this deplorable and inexcusable care- 
 lessness lies I will not- presume to say. I have my 
 own thoughts. Instead of grinding per force into all 
 manner of boys and girls the terrible grammars of 
 dead languages, which they no sooner leave school
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 145 
 
 than the great majority forget at once and for ever, 
 would it not be far more reasonable were they to 
 worry over the Greek less, and to bestow the portion 
 of time so gained upon the cultivation of this, the 
 highest, most spiritual, most angelic, and truly in- 
 estimable gift of God to man 1 This query forestalls 
 alike all answer and comment.] 
 
 Miss Jessie Trueheart initiated what we may term, 
 par excellence, the vocal section of the festivities by 
 rendering the following little local pathetic chant with 
 amazing tenderness : 
 
 MORHAM GLEN. 
 
 The simmer day was ending, 
 
 The mavis sang adieu ; 
 Starlicht, wi' gloaming blending, 
 
 O'er earth its glamourie threw 
 When Rab an' me atweel, 
 
 When ne'er a ane did ken, 
 Grat our lang, last fareweel, 
 
 Doun in bonnie Morham Glen 1 
 
 The burn, it brattled sweetly, 
 
 My love he was sae dear ; 
 My heart, it brak' completely, 
 
 His last fareweel to hear ! 
 lang, lang years hae run 
 
 Their wearie course sin' then, 
 But I aye lo'e a' abune 
 
 That wee bonnie Morham Glen ! 
 
 Miss Truehearfc, using her privilege, called upon the 
 young artisan from Haddington, named Mr Robie, or 
 " Bob Hutchie." This (then) young man deserves a 
 passing notice. I knew him long and well. He was, 
 by taste and talent, a great but a dumb poet for he 
 lacked expression and beyond all question the finest 
 singer, in his youth, of Scotch sangs I ever heard 
 and I have listened to all our famous ones for the last
 
 146 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 five and twenty years. Some of his songs were alto- 
 gether remarkably done (his sweet voice lingers in my 
 memory still). These were " Afton Water," " Wan- 
 dering Willie," "My Nannie's Awa'," "Scotland's 
 Hills," " Tak' yer auld cloak about ye," &c. ; but he 
 brought down the house about our ears by his 
 absolutely unapproachable rendering of " Cam' ye by 
 Athole." I do not expect ever again to hear such 
 music on this side Jordan. When this melodious 
 paragon sat down, up arose his musical antithesis, that 
 personified malformation, the absurd and grotesque 
 dominie, to fulfil the promise made before supper, to 
 wit, to scream like a Bedlamite, into our distracted 
 ears another of his " own originals," as follows (he 
 called it " The Charteris Dykes," i.e., the high stone 
 wall bounding the Amisfield policies on the south) : 
 
 When comin' roond aboot the dykes, 
 
 Daunerin' roond aboot the dykes, 
 An aingel I foregather'd wi' 
 
 When comin' rooud aboot the dykes ! 
 
 " Kind sir," she says, " pray tell me true, 
 Is this the gate to auld Blaebrae 1 " 
 
 " Sweet lassie ! I will tell thee true 
 I gang that gate mysel' the day ! " 
 When comin', &c. 
 
 We wandered on oh, she was fair ! 
 
 My heart frae Agnes she withdrew ; 
 Love revel'd in her gowden hair, 
 
 His palace was her bonnie mou' ! 
 
 When comin', &c. 
 
 At last we reached the auld Blaebraes ; 
 Losh ! Agnes rins to meet my doo 
 " Dear sister, welcome hame ! " she says 
 
 The lassie lauch'd till she was blue ? 
 \ 
 
 When comin' roond about the dykes 
 Daunerin' roond about the dykes, 
 
 niair yer aingels foist on me 
 When comin' roond about the dykes !
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES, 147 
 
 When the uproarious hilarity which this ludicrous 
 production of the girl-befooled and love-demented 
 dominie's provoked, had subsided within tolerable 
 limits, a few more national exquisites were given by 
 Hutchie the admirable, Hootsman, S. M., and others, 
 and then this most happy and entirely successful farm 
 banquet was harmoniously, if not appropriately sung 
 to a close by Miss Trueheart lilting beautifully at 
 the piano the following simple local lyric said to 
 have been occasioned by a melancholy incident in 
 real life. 
 
 THE BONNIE TYNE VALLEY. 
 
 Air The Bonnie Braes o' Gleniffer. 
 
 Now blythe lilt the birds doun the bonnie Tyne valley, 
 
 The larks hover hie o'er the green Kippielaw ; 
 How sweet 'twere to roam thro' the springtime wi' 
 Willie, 
 
 But how weary to wander, now Willie 's awa ! 
 The snaw-hoards on Soutra, the saft win's are thawing, 
 
 The simmer 's renew'd to the muirland an' lea ; 
 The swallows come back, an' the blossom is blawing 
 
 A' nature 's restored, but ria' Willie to me ! 
 
 The snawdrap an' vi'let, in nooks bield an' shady, 
 
 The primrose an' daisy the fairest o' a'; 
 The hawthorn blooming, the green-spreading meadow, 
 
 Wad wyse me to wander but Willie 's awa ! 
 Ah ! never again, by the green shaw an' meadow, 
 
 While Tyne bickers doun sunny-star'd to the sea, 
 Shall I wander at e'ening, an' hear my dear laddie, 
 
 Roose nature sae deeply an' dearly to me ! 
 
 The setting sun beats on the braes o' Phantassie, 
 An' deeds in gold haze the green Kippielaw ! 
 
 The dew freshens nature, sae green an' sae grassy 
 How blest could I be werena Willie awa !
 
 148 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 O thou mellow mavis, the e'ening enchanting, 
 
 Till th' kindling stars thrill i' the blue lift sae hie ! 
 
 How sweet was thy sang, in the gloaming hushed 
 
 plantin', 
 When in true love we trysted my Willie an' me ! 
 
 hush ye, blythe birds, doun the bonnie Tyne valley, 
 
 hush ye, sweet larks, o'er the green Kippielaw ; 
 What recks how ye sing, an' ye sing na back Willie ? 
 
 Your woodnotes are wailings noo Willie's awa ! 
 The snawdrift, o'er Soutra, in tempest was blawing, 
 
 An' bleak was the scene on the day he did dee ! 
 But bleaker an' darker is sorrow's nicht fa'ing 
 
 This mirk nicht o' death that parts Willie an' me ! 
 
 BELHAVEN RACES: 
 An Old Hinds' Holiday. 
 
 'TWAS at the time when dawning hairst 
 
 First glowes out owre the brae 
 A crimson flush, before the burst 
 
 An' golden blaze o' day 
 A glint o' red a glimmer spread 
 
 On ilka peerin' knowe, 
 Like the blush break on maiden's cheek, 
 
 When first love lichts his lowe, 
 
 In her some day ! 
 
 The dewy morn, the waving corn, 
 
 Fair Nature's braverie green, 
 The balmy breeze, the birds an' bees 
 
 An' glorious sunlicht's sheen ! 
 Made auld Tibb's Sam, and Nanny's Tarn, 
 
 A bricht and blithesome brace, 
 As from Blaebraes they gaed their ways, 
 
 To see the Grand Sands Race, 
 
 Was held that day ! 
 
 Since when I was a little lad, riding daily to school 
 upon what I may call the "fore-back" of a fleet 
 stallion donkey (for another boy rode behind me on
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 149 
 
 the back of the same wonderful animal), up to the 
 present day, the general features of the average 
 ploughman's life in East Lothian, if they have changed, 
 have changed only infinitesimally ; and Tarn Scott 
 and Jock Tamson really jog and plod along much after 
 the manner, and in the same footsteps, as their im- 
 mediate forbears. However, as I have said, in two or 
 three aspects of rustic life some divergence from for- 
 mer modes is already noticeable. This difference con- 
 cerns (1) the wage of farm folks, which, broadly, may 
 be stated to have increased from 4s. to 6s. per week 
 during the interval specified ; (2) the habitations of 
 the country community have altered somewhat archi-, 
 tecturally, and are now much more commodious, 
 ample, and comfortable than formerly. The other 
 perceptible changes affecting the rural populace are of 
 a more personal character ; and regard the food, cloth- 
 ing, education, and perhaps the religious sentiments 
 of our country folks. With regard to their food, the 
 change now noteworthy is, I think, decidedly for the 
 worse. When I was a lad, neither the ploughman, 
 his wife, nor any member of his household, partook of 
 tea oftener than once a week viz., on Sunday even- 
 ing. The " halesome parritch " was then, indeed, the 
 chief of the cottar's fare ; and accursed be the day that 
 banishes it from the land of the mountain and the 
 flood. As a " cow's keep " was a portion of nearly 
 every ploughman's wage, there was always an abund- 
 ance of the " soupe that hawkie does afford," and a 
 brawny, stalwart, healthy, vigorous peasantry was the 
 result. Now, alas ! all this has nearly become merely 
 a reminiscence the cows have been taken from the 
 men, a " money " wage has been substituted for the 
 " auld bow," and consequently tea and white bread 
 have usurped the places, and almost driven "parritch 
 and milk " and " souple barley scones " from the cottage 
 board. 
 
 In the matter of clothing, a change closely analog- 
 ous to the food one is now conspicuous, particularly 
 on Sundays and holidays. At the time when the
 
 i$o RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 mid-aged people of to-day were in their early youth, 
 our first-class ploughmen used to trudge regularly to 
 the kirk in " tackettei " boots, brown velvet coats 
 with large brass buttons, and with white corded 
 trousers. Now they are almost indistinguishable from 
 their masters or even the " lairds " themselves and 
 assuredly the " women folk " lag not far behind their 
 social superiors also, at least in the fashion of their 
 mysterious feminine garments. Perhaps this is as it 
 should be. At anyrate, no good-thinking person 
 will begrudge an abundance of warm and suitable 
 apparel to the hard toiling and industrious tillers of 
 the soil, who constitute, in truth, the very mainstay 
 and backbone of the nation. The education (taking the 
 term in its broad and commonly-received sense) ot the 
 rural class has also advanced a little since I was a young- 
 ster. I do not refer so much to school learning, in the 
 strict sense, as to that which has come to all the people 
 more or less from the establishment and wonder- 
 ful extension of the railway system, telegraphs, the 
 penny post, and, above all, from the institution and 
 extraordinary development of the cheap literature move- 
 ment of our day. In my early time, the only books 
 commonly to be met with in a cottar's dwelling were 
 the Bible, the " Belfast Almanack " for the year, two 
 or three religious volumes either by Erskine, Baxter, 
 or John Brown of Haddington and sometimes a 
 volume of Burns or the " Pilgrim's Progress." As for 
 newspapers and magazines, even a stray copy of either 
 was seldom seen ; and in fact their names and natures 
 were as unknown to the generality of the cottagers as 
 the plays of Euripides ; or the orations of Demosthenes. 
 Although ploughmen are anything but a reading class, 
 still much has been done even upon their order by 
 the present-day wholesale distribution of daily and 
 weekly newspapers, local and other cheap novels, 
 tracts, songs, poems, pamphlets. " Police News," 
 " penny dreadfuls," " dream-books," and " patent 
 medicine " literature. How all this flood of erudition 
 has affected his morals is another matter ; but there
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 151 
 
 can be no doubt that the average country working 
 man of to-day is very far in advance of his fathers in 
 his knowledge of social economics, imperial and local 
 politics, and what we may here term the understand- 
 ing of things and the great outside world generally. 
 His views are more correct and far more enlightened 
 on almost every subject than were those of even his 
 immediate progenitors. 
 
 The religious or Sabbatical beliefs and customs of 
 the country people have also undergone some modifica- 
 tion in my time. These may now be roundly de- 
 scribed in one word as less strict less bigoted, less 
 puritanical, less pharisaical than they at one time 
 were. In the olden time of which I am writing, they 
 seemed to have literally reversed the divine adage that 
 " The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for 
 the Sabbath." I remember, for instance, when in 
 many parts of East Lothian it was considered morally 
 and religiously culpable for anyone to walk merely 
 for the pleasure of walking or to gather flowers, or 
 to fetch water from the well, on the " Sabbath Day." 
 To visit one's friends, unless in the direst necessity, 
 was a desecration of the " Day" sufficient to provoke 
 the combined anathemas of one's respected minister 
 and his whole batch of elders. 
 
 In this connection, too, I may notice the decided 
 change which of late years has taken place in the 
 country folks' notions anent their pastors. I do not 
 mean to infer any less esteem or respect entertained by 
 country people for their spiritual shepherds generally. 
 Such an inference would be a palpable absurdity, and 
 would brand the observer who made it as one who 
 was unworthy of any sensible man's notice. The re- 
 gard in which a truly good, or gifted, preacher is now 
 held is greater than ever it was ; but this " regard " is 
 more intelligent and immeasurably less superstitious 
 than the awe and dread felt for " Mess John " in my 
 early days. -Then, indeed, the "minister" was not 
 only " respected" in my native village he vf as feared 
 his awful name was a terror, and his dreadful approach
 
 152 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 was an event which cast the " haill toun " into the 
 wildest throes of anxiety. Well do I recollect how 
 we (the boys) used to scamper out of sight, and how 
 the " gudewives " quaking ! used to bustle and 
 " redd up," and don their clean mutches and aprons, 
 whenever the terrible news rang from household to 
 household that " the minister was comin' ! " The 
 causes of the vast change which now obtains viz., 
 the new light in which the " minister " is now viewed 
 by the rural community are manifold and various, but 
 they mostly lie on the surface, and are manifest to 
 anybody. 
 
 The great annual festival days for the farm people 
 of East Lothian used to be three in number, and these 
 were Old Hansel Monday, " Hiring Friday," and the 
 Review and Race Day of the Yeomanry at Westbarns. 
 The first two of these venerable holidays still continue 
 to hold their own in the rural districts albeit, in- 
 deed, many of the ancient customs of Old Hansel 
 Monday, if not yet entirely absolete, are at least 
 obsolescent. The glories of the race day, also, are 
 now greatly diminished, and what remains is divided 
 the best half falling to the lot of the second, or 
 cheap, day of the local agricultural show. In former 
 times, however, it used to be far otherwise, and " Bel- 
 haven Races," as they were popularly termed, were for 
 many years the grand summer event of the shires of 
 Berwick and Haddington, and the eastern portion of 
 Mid-Lothian as well. Vast crowds computed by 
 reliable authorities to have numbered as high some 
 years as thirty and" forty thousand people yearly 
 assembled on the "Sands" to witness them. Legions 
 trudged to see them a-foot, many whirled to them by 
 rail, whilst thousands and thousands drove thither in 
 carts, cars, and carriages of almost every known and 
 conceivable description. [I once witnessed a nearly 
 unbroken line of these miscellaneous and multifarious 
 vehicles on a race day in the olden time which ex- 
 tended from Gateside to the bridge at Westbarns.] 
 
 On the recurrence of a race rlay, some twenty years
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 153 
 
 ago, the venerable Patriarch of Blaebraes the unique 
 and grotesque " Dominie " and I somewhat disguised 
 ourselves in ordinary yokel attire, and started betimes 
 on a beautiful summer morning on foot for the 
 " Sands," intending to see and learn for ourselves how 
 John Ploughman really kept and enjoyed this his one 
 grand and long longed-for summer festival, and most 
 popular of all his " field-days." 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 As the disguised dominie and I approached the foot 
 of the northern " entry " of Blaebraes, a long cart 
 loaded with country people of both sexes, and appa- 
 rently all ages, and drawn by double horses, neared it 
 on the public turnpike. As those people were un- 
 doubtedly also bound for the raceground, we resolved 
 to join them, if possibly they could oblige us with a 
 " lift," and if we were unknown to them for our sole 
 object in going at all was merely to observe how farm- 
 servants conducted and enjoyed themselves when on 
 the " daffin ; " and we knew that if our trip was to be 
 a success, that that success could only be reached by 
 remaining ourselves unknown to them. We found, 
 by the ticket, that the cart belonged to a Mr Clods, 
 of an upland farm designated " Teuchcleuch," and 
 that it was packed stem and stern with ordinary 
 specimens of the rural tribe who inhabit that ele- 
 vated region. The horses, both splendid looking 
 members of a crossed Galloway breed, were ex- 
 cellently " graithed," and gaily and guadily tricked 
 out for the day with many " knots " and yards 
 of flying red, blue, and yellow tape. The driver 
 was a young steady-looking fellow, and seemed 
 justly proud of his magnificent team. For the pro- 
 mise of a "dram" at Erigend, East Linton, the man 
 sitting next the driver apparently the grieve agreed 
 to give us the desiderated "lift;" and accordingly the 
 horses were halted, and the dominie and I sprang in, 
 while we received a rude but hearty welcome from
 
 154 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 the cartful. We had no sooner taken our seats on 
 the twisted straw- rapes with which the " shell mounts " 
 of the car^t were warped all round, than a brusque, 
 hale old man, who sat opposite to us, said, looking at 
 Pintail, "Ye'll be shepherds frae the hills, na?" 
 The disguised dominie nodded assent. " An' what 
 may they ca' ye, gin it he a fair question? Aw'm 
 ca'd Sandy Black, mysel'." "Ou aye, gndeman," I 
 answered, fearing that the Dominie would put us out 
 if allowed to reply, " ye'se ken oor names, gudeman. 
 Ma auld freend here is the heid man at Sma'hope 
 he's ca'd Tarn Tattler ; an' aw'm the herd o' Little- 
 stock the neist place to Sma'hope, 'e'll understand 
 an' ma name is Mathy Maggots a geyan queer name, 
 Sandy, but a true ane for a' that." " I howp, 
 neebor," rejoined Sandy, laughing, " that it's no' true 
 doon to the bottom o' yer pooch, for ye ken ye'll hae 
 to fork oot at Sandy Walker's at the Brigend." No 
 other personal questions were asked us, and in a short 
 time we entered the beautiful village of East Linton 
 with flying colours, and immediately drew up in front 
 of the famous Red Lion Inn thereat. I alone alighted, 
 and met the genial, smiling landlord at the door. 
 One word was enough. The race-goers were offered 
 a refreshment all round at Tarn Tattler's expense. 
 The adult and elderly men swallowed each a full glass- 
 ful of raw spirits with little coaxing ; but the women, 
 lassies, and lads of the party either refused the 
 proffered " dram " point blank, or sparingly just 
 pree'd it with much nudging, tittering, and merry 
 chaffing. The children got a biscuit a piece. The 
 dominie paid this " treat " five shillings with a 
 very rueful face. The old Jew ! 
 
 We had now emerged out of the side or " parish " 
 road, and were threading our way cautiously along 
 that magnificent highway the ancient east coast " post 
 road" between Edinburgh and London which led 
 us direct to the " Sands." For a long distance before 
 and behind us, it exhibited that morning a wild 
 tempestuous stream of busy traffic and noisy hilarity
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 155 
 
 and hubbub, trending swiftly eastward. Now the rich 
 landscape and the gay scene around us were beautiful 
 and exhilarating in the extreme. On either side, and 
 far as the eye might discern, extended the waving 
 corn fields just then beginning to show the first 
 rosy tinge of the early harvest interspersed with 
 dark forests, and strips and clumps of wood, all 
 heaving heavy with the luxuriance of latter summer's 
 gorgeous leafage and other fields, speckled with 
 peaceful flocks and herds, bright green with potatoes 
 and turnips, or tented like arab camps with hay in 
 the rick. Over this mingled scene of natural splen- 
 dour and agricultural wealth and beauty, a July sun, 
 from an unclouded sky, began to stream a flood of 
 tropical sunshine which enrobed everything with a 
 dazzling radiance and loveliness, and made the dew- 
 drops on the green hedges by the wayside sparkle 
 like stars. Everybody, down to the meanest and 
 raggedest of the wayfarers, seemed pleased, if not 
 fascinated for all wore on their faces the looks ex- 
 pressive of the emotions of heartfelt satisfaction and 
 delight. The road between Linton and Westbarns 
 was literally swarming with people, and carriages, and 
 men on horseback, and presented, from a little dis- 
 tance, the appearance of a winter river in full spate. 
 I have seen the road leading from London to Epsom 
 on a Derby day. Of course no comparison is possible 
 between the merely local affair at Westbarns and the 
 great metropolitan saturnalia. But I dare to say that 
 in the beauty of its surroundings and approaches, as 
 well as in the uniform cheerfulness, robust health, 
 manful look and sturdiness, and comparatively inno- 
 cent mirth (at the way-going) of its frequenters, the 
 " meeting " near Dunbar by far outstrips the London 
 one. The city thief and swindler were here as there ; 
 but we gladly missed here the miserable multitudes 
 of slip-shod, ragged, half-starved, bedraggled, de- 
 bauched, deformed, and under-developed men, women, 
 and children. Our fellow-travellers in the long cart, 
 and the vast majority of those afoot upon the road
 
 156 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 also, were ordinary farm labourers, and the sisters, 
 wives, and children of labourers. 
 
 All these were well clad, and appeared to be jolly 
 feeders also ; but they were all mysteriously quiet. 
 Perchance the great and unaccustomed crowds, in 
 whose midst they might behold and feel themselves but 
 as units of sand on the seashore, over-awed and dis- 
 concerted them, and so restrained their proverbially 
 jubilant and obstreperous propensities. Certes it is 
 at anyrate that, beyond a faint short-lived cheer, given 
 at intervals when a red-jacketed yeoman whom they 
 knew would jingle past us on his fiery charger, the 
 whole of them travelled remarkably quiescent and 
 peaceable. That restive, prying quidnunc, the irrepres- 
 sible Pintail, no doubt, what with his everlasting 
 asking of questions of everyone within reach of his 
 eldrich voice, and his crooning and screeching of 
 parodies upon this, that, and the other thing, furnished 
 ready-made din for the whole cart-load of us. 
 
 In about an hour and a half after leaving Linton, 
 we drove on to the " bents " overlooking the racecourse. 
 Here we all alighted and unyoked and fed our horses, 
 while six or seven of the men were told off by the 
 grieve to act as guardians and watchmen, by turns of 
 an hour each, and then we all agreed to meet at the 
 cart at 5 P.M. for the return journey. In an instant 
 afterwards we were dispersed swallowed up in the 
 vast and motley crowd and almost as completely 
 lost to each other as if we had been scattered from the 
 sowing sheet of Fate over the habitable globe. 
 
 A mere handful of mounted men in military garb were 
 going through some unknown evolutions far out on the 
 broad and beautiful plateau of dead level, sandy sea- 
 beach, which on that part of the coast is left dry and 
 bare by the ebb tide. This marine plain, which extends 
 from near Dunbar westward as far as the mouth *of the 
 Tyne (about three miles), was that day dry and com- 
 pact, and afforded an admirable foothold, alike for 
 man and horse. The group of performing horsemen 
 before -mentioned was the East Lothian and Berwick-
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 15? 
 
 shire Yeomanry Cavalry, being reviewed, and meagre 
 and paltry as they were considered as a body of a 
 troops they yet formed in their scarlet uniforms, 
 glistening helmets, and waving plumes, and with 
 flashing swords and other barbarous gear a really 
 most picturesque display as they cantered hither and 
 thither, and attempted to march alternately in line and 
 column. I believe, conscientiously, that they did their 
 best what that was I do not know, only it put me 
 in mind of a baud of Irish shearers in the harvest 
 time chasing a hare. Along the bents a low ridge 
 of sandy knolls sparsely covered with coarse seaside 
 grasses, which bounds the Sands proper on the south 
 and west the people were clustered thicker than 
 July leaves in Binning Wood, ostensibly watching 
 the "review," and in reality cheerily loafing and con- 
 versing with old friends and sweethearts, &c. Along 
 the seaward margin of the bents were erected some 
 twenty or thirty canvass booths for the sale of drink 
 and refreshments, and about as many, or more, open 
 stands for the supply of gingerbread, sweetmeats, and 
 soda water ; and they all appeared to be having a 
 large turnover. As our special purpose was to ob- 
 serve the ploughmen while out of harness, Pintail and 
 I turned our backs for a space upon the outside people 
 and review, and entered one of the drink booths. It 
 was from end to end and from side to side packed, 
 crammed, and uproarious as an Election Meeting, 
 with country and country-village folks of both sexes, 
 and of all ages and degrees, from the little school-child 
 to the tottering, grey-haired grandsire and grandam 
 laughing and talking, flirting and courting, and brawl- 
 ing and singing. On the bench immediately behind 
 us a young powerful-looking ploughman, half-seas 
 over, deftly and dexterously upreared himself at full 
 length, and, with a strength and capacity of lung 
 which few could hope to rival, voluntarily treated the 
 entire company to the following original ditty, appro- 
 priately concerning the grand amusement of the day 
 the
 
 158 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 " BELHAVEN RACES ! 
 
 At Yule's heels Hansel Monday reels, 
 Them baith the Hiring chases, ! 
 But simmer brings, on golden wings, 
 Belhaven's glorious races, ! 
 
 Lang live the races, ; 
 Lang live the races, ; 
 
 The lasses sweet, in tents we treat, 
 That day we hand the races, ! 
 
 At ilka mailin' o' the land, 
 
 The ferm-folk wash their faces, ; 
 Syne march in mony a blithesome band, 
 
 In clean sarks to the races, O ! 
 Lang live, &c. 
 
 The sea's far oot the faem, nae doot, 
 
 The fowk this day displaces, ; 
 An' Neptune's roar gaes doon before 
 
 Oor Scotch cheers at the races, ! 
 Lang live, &c. 
 
 The yeomen chairge in grand review, 
 
 An' proodly show their paces, ! 
 When they get through, they'll chairge anew, 
 
 The tents afore the races, ! 
 Lang live, &c. 
 
 O happy day ! day of days ! 
 
 A dram nae man disgraces, ! 
 
 Ilk lad and lass tip aff their glass, 
 
 As they war' trying races, ! 
 
 Lang live the races, ; 
 Lang live the races, ; 
 
 Oor drooth an' dool, we droon an' cool, 
 That day wo, haud the races, ! 
 
 Conversation amongst the elderly people in the tent 
 concerned chiefly themselves and their own home and 
 family affairs every talker's grand aim seeming to be
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. i<59 
 
 to impress his colloquist with as great a notion of the 
 speaker's exalted worth and powers as was possible. 
 Nor were they stinted in their friends' laudations 
 either, for they all clapped each other on the shoulder, 
 or wrung each other by the hand, every now and 
 again, and emphatically declared, in the most vigorous 
 doric, that they were the " finest chields " alive. 
 Before we left, the far end of the tent was in an up- 
 roar over a ferocious struggle between two young hinds 
 and a party of fishermen from Dunbar. Each side 
 struck out at and defied the other with horrid impre- 
 cations; glasses, bottles, tables and forms were smashed ; 
 women screamed, and waiters and policemen wildly 
 pressed forward to interfere. As we passed along out- 
 side, we peeped into two or three more of those im- 
 provised " pubs," and in each of them beheld exactly 
 similar people engaged in exactly similar doings as in 
 the first booth. Around the tents a dense and some- 
 what turbulent pack of (chiefly agricultural) human 
 beings swayed and moved uneasily about, pushing 
 and jostling each other aside. Mixed up not thinly 
 with this surging, seething, motley, living mass of 
 rural bipeds, were blue - coated policemen and 
 militiamen, red-coated yeomen, villainous " cheap 
 Johns" and roily -polly men, ragged and dirty 
 vendors of toys and knick-knacks, Jack-in-the- 
 box shooters, weighing-machine men, street ballad 
 singers, pipers and fiddlers, card-sharpers and thiinble- 
 riggers all shouting, arguing, coaxing, cajoling, 
 swearing, blowing, and playing at once. The din and 
 confusion were distracting, one would think, and yet 
 the people seemed to enjoy it. When this buzzing, 
 tossing, tumultuous hive had reached a crisis, a buggle 
 suddenly sounded a shrill and clear " rat-a-too ! rat-a- 
 too ! '' and away instantly over the sands the vast 
 swarm hurried pell-mell to the race-course, some three 
 hundred yards distant. The " course " was the 
 middle portion of the sea-beach between the bents and 
 the now inflowing ocean running for a mile in a 
 north-westerly direction towards Tynemouth and
 
 160 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 opposite the tents was a roped-in space of some fifty 
 yards across, having at its eastern termination a shil- 
 ling-a-piece "grand-stand" on one side, and a small 
 erection for the umpire of the races on the other. 
 Along each margin of the course were drawn up the 
 carriages and gigs of the gentry and farmers, and 
 crowded in and packed between these was the great 
 crowd of sight-seers on foot. Here silks and satins, 
 parasols, ribbons, fans, and feathers, and other fem- 
 inine gaiety, rustled, streamed, and fluttered ; while 
 their fair wearers with their bachelor friends laughed 
 and chatted merrily. Pint bottles were plentifully 
 uncorked, and savoury sandwiches and plates of cold 
 ham handed round the sea-breeze and the brilliant 
 sunshine delighted every-one and so all went merry 
 as a marriage feast. Two or three mounted yeomen 
 assisted the police in keeping a clear course. The 
 great majority of the people were in high glee, and 
 enjoying the day rationally and soberly ; but, at the 
 same time, it was only too evident that a large section 
 had overstepped the limits of moderation and pro- 
 priety, and were consequently disturbing and disgust- 
 ing every sane person around them. I also witnessed 
 some intensely grotesque and humorous scenes and 
 interviews between hinds and other parties, who had 
 " just a wee drap in their e'e " to make them jocose 
 and unconventional. Upon the whole, at this time, I 
 should say that the people were extremely good- 
 humoured, and fairly well-behaved. Abruptly, at the 
 lower end of the course, a jockey, in white tights, 
 green silk jacket, and scarlet cap, and who was mounted 
 on a high-stepping, spanking brown horse of the name 
 of" Jim Crow," emerged from the weighing ring upon 
 the scene, and cantered the racer preludingly up and 
 down the course. This was the favourite with the 
 people, and shouts and cheers for " Deans " (his owner) 
 were heard on all sides. In a few minutes he was 
 joined by four or live others who were all, like the 
 h'rst, keenly criticised by the onlookers and after a 
 bit they got a fair start and rode forth in a row, with
 
 RURAL REMINISCENCES. 161 
 
 lowered heads and forward-bent bodies, to ride round 
 the distant red banners at the western end of the 
 course, and the hurry-scurry home. ISTo sooner had 
 they launched forth on this trial of speed, skill, and 
 pluck, than the whole people became in a manner panic- 
 stricken and strangely agitated. Telescopes of all kinds 
 were eagerly directed to them by the people in the 
 carriages, and the folks on foot stood on tip-toe and 
 stretched their necks to catch a glimpse of them. Book- 
 men went about crying, " Jim Crow four to one ! " 
 "Nellie Grey three to one !" " Ten to one against Bum- 
 bee!" &c. A feverous agitation, a strange buzz of 
 anxious expectancy, pervaded the crowd. Everybody, 
 from the debonair, pleasure-satiated grandee in his 
 gilded equipage, down to the smallest apple-cheeked 
 urchin from some distant homestead, grew tremulous 
 and excited ; and gills of whisky and bottles of ale were 
 being recklessly staked and frenziedly taken up by 
 the commonalty on all hands. " Here they come ! " 
 " Stand back ! stand back !" " Jim Crow's first ! " 
 " Hurrah ! " " Nellie Grey yet ! " " Wire in Bum- 
 bee ! " " Hurrah ! hurrah ! ! hurrah ! ! ! " And so at 
 length the first and finest event of the day came off 
 : "Nellie Grey" beating "Jim Crow" only by 
 " half a length." 
 
 The grand-stand pack'd was like the wood 
 That deeds the sides o' Benty Dod, 
 
 When winter binds Pressmenuan ; 
 As thick the madding crowd below, 
 Sway'd like the forest to and fro 
 
 Of glorious Biel or Binnin' ! 
 
 An' when the race was gotten through, 
 Back on the booths the crowd withdrew 
 
 Pell-mell and hurry-scurry : 
 Drink, drink, ye fouters, what ye please 
 Strong yill an' Avhisky baps and cheese 
 
 For folk in shoals to worry ! 
 L
 
 162 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 Hech ! what a hotchie-potch was there ! 
 Men, women, weans, like furies were 
 
 Ilk ane for liquor screamin' ! 
 The sweat ran down the waiters' cheeks, 
 "They coost their duddies to the" breeks, 
 
 An' wrought like engines stearain' ! 
 
 Between each " event " there was an interval of 
 half-an-hour, allowing good time for a fresh visit to 
 the tents. The general characteristics of all the other 
 races were identical with those of the first only the 
 name of the inebriates during the latter ones was 
 legion, for they were indeed many. Before the final 
 heat was decided, nearly all the carriages and a large 
 number of the respectable company had left the 
 ground. When we reached the long cart, we found it 
 already yoked and prepared for the return home 
 only, the grieve said, fully one-half of his people had 
 not kept the tryst, and he did not know what to do. 
 After a brief consultation, it was decided that the 
 grieve and one of the men should go back and make 
 search through all the tents, collect whom they could, 
 and that we should start immediately on their return 
 with those we had. Whilst they were gone on this 
 errand of mercy, I counted no fewer than seven 
 separate fisticuff encounters taking place between old 
 neighbours and acquaintances within a circle of about 
 a hundred yards around the cart. Blood, black eyes, 
 gashed foreheads, soiled and torn garments, blasphem- 
 ous oaths and hideous maledictions, savage yells and 
 piercing feminine screams, were seen and heard 
 through and above everything else. In truth, the 
 scene however paltry and insignificant was yet 
 a terrible blot on the face of Nature. 
 
 The drive home afforded an abundance of laughter 
 and no end of comical incidents ; but our enjoyment 
 was sadly lessened and debased by the sickening sight 
 of so much dead drunkenness and barbarous quarrelling 
 and fighting. The " Belhaven Races " of the present
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 1 63 
 
 time are indeed less popular, but they are also a mighty 
 and noble improvement upon those of the bygone 
 days. 
 
 SELECTIONS EROM " COUNTRY 
 CHRONICLES." 
 
 PROLOGUE BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 " Yes, ca' him young Sam, Jean, I say ! " These 
 simple monosyllables, which will appear in print and 
 be read in the " slump " as one of the most casual and 
 homely of everyday remarks, were, at the time and in 
 the place where they were first spoken, aerial and 
 auricular vehicles, fraught with untold inspiration, 
 and brimful to overflowing with hopefullest expect- 
 ancy of highest mental and moral entertainment to a 
 large gathering of the sons and daughters of the soil 
 the real base and mainstay of our entire social super- 
 structure. They were the undoubted words of loyalty 
 and love from the heart of a Scottish Rustic, and were 
 receptacled indeed, with joy and pride into their 
 appointed place the heart of hearts of brother and 
 sister rustics. We know who that Rustic was, but the 
 other trifling outside section of the universe, not 
 knowing, cannot possibly even surmise a tithe of a 
 fraction of the strange and fascinating influence 
 which these ordinary phrases exerted. This last sen- 
 tence reminds me of a matter closely connected with 
 its theme ; and as I am neither a man nor a writer 
 who loves to brood long over a grudge or an unjust 
 accusation, I shall herewith redd this foul ground at 
 my feet at once and for ever. I have been blamed, it 
 seems, for exhibiting and reporting " Sam " in a too 
 depreciating and derogatory style ! It is loudly 
 asserted by the greatest men in the hamlet in our
 
 164 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 vicinage that Pintail, owing to natural narrowness 
 and lack of soul, cannot comprehend Mucklebackit. 
 The latter may be quite true ; but who are they, I ask, 
 that dare make so calumnious a charge as that which 
 is contained in the first clause of the above indict- 
 ment] Although I put this question to all and 
 sundry whom it may concern, yet the "querist would 
 humanely poke each of his ten thousand readers in 
 the side, and indicate whisperingly, yet feelingly, that 
 "mum" should be the one and only answer for 
 their sakes, and not in the least for his. Why? 
 because such a trumped-up ridiculous libel was never 
 presented and attempted to be thrust down the throat 
 of a civilised community before. Not even when 
 the moon has been at her lowest ! Sam himself, it 
 will be remembered, never blusters about his own 
 virtues and capacities. Then why should I, his 
 modest and honest draughtsman, and, I even religi- 
 ously trust, his truthful and loving delineator ? For 
 well do I know that it is up and down, and through 
 and through, literally impossible in every way that I, 
 T. P., can even scan, leave alone fully understanding, 
 the fifty sides, ends, tops, and bottoms of Muckle- 
 backit's mountain - like and wonderful character. 
 Nobody knows and feels this grand fact more than I 
 do ! If my simple and off-hand written outlines of 
 him have failed to convey this, I am sorry ; but 
 remember that the writer of the " Chronicles " hath 
 legitimate latitude and right to say of his characters 
 whatever he pleases, and the only limitation which he 
 should recognise and which should, and which shall, 
 restrain him, is truth to nature and fealty to his art, 
 as far as that goes. What is beyond the extreme bound 
 of a writer's vision is equal ground, as free to the flights 
 of the reader's fancy as to the author's. My intelli- 
 gent critics should also remember that they are judg- 
 ing and convicting me Jeddart-wise before the full 
 evidence has been heard. Why ! the " Chronicles " 
 have hardly yet begun to be written ! Only a few 
 solitary evening stars have dared to fire up and pierce
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES \ 65 
 
 with timid shafts of uncertain light the dead grey 
 dusk of our country social life. I believe that I have 
 heard of a Scots proverb which admonishes fools and 
 children not to see half done work. I shall hence- 
 forth, now that the foregoing is written, positively 
 decline to articulate or scribble another word of these 
 letters upon this ridiculous subject. 
 
 Without doubt these simple and unadorned Chron- 
 icles of real contemporary life in East Lothian are 
 being greedily devoured by, and are influencing bene- 
 ficially, every class and order of our composite rural 
 society convincing and overwhelming proof of this 
 admirable truth coming in such abundance to hand 
 daily and hourly as to make the holding of further 
 uncertainty upon the point an unmistakable sign and 
 dead-sure witness of the stark lunacy of the unfortun- 
 ate mind entertaining it ! And this grand result 
 this most satisfactory state of matters, has not been 
 attained by, and certainly is not due to, any subtle 
 art, talent, or special literary cleverness possessed by 
 the annalist who, whilst jotting them down, simply 
 endeavours faithfully and practically to adhere to the 
 golden rule he prefixes in his mental eye to each in- 
 dividual Chronicle, to wit, never either to extenuate, 
 exaggerate, nor set down aught in malice, but always, 
 in truest faith and love, to relate even the merest item 
 and detail as accurately and with as much care as he 
 would were he divulging the intricacies of a diaboli- 
 cal Land League plot, to destroy the moon with a 
 snuff-box full of powder, to the greatest and best hero 
 of our time the beloved Mr Gladstone himself. 
 Again and this one fact will inevitably be recognised 
 on all hands as more than sufficient to account for 
 even the unprecedented success of these unpretending 
 (however remarkable) Chronicles, viz., they are written 
 with at least the concurrence, if not the approval, of 
 Samuel Mucklebackit of Clover Riggs a man who, 
 apparently, has only to wish the success of anything, 
 and directly it begins to be realised. I, T. P., am, 
 by solemn agreement and ratified contract, sworn not
 
 1 66 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 to extol or cry aloud, like another John Baptist, the 
 out-of-all-measure superior grandeur of the moral and 
 intellectual character of my immortal chief ; but who, 
 I ask, who can utterly conceal and suppress beyond 
 speculation or suspicion the love, and joy, and pride, 
 and adoration with which his weak human heart is 
 charged even to bursting 1 ? I cannot and so " Sam" 
 stands, and appears in these Chronicles, and is seen 
 as through a glass not of punch dimly, no doubt, 
 but, like Ossian in his mist, outlined and shadowed 
 forth in somewhat approximating amplitude and like- 
 ness. If loose rays of this full and shining orb of 
 dear regard escape unguardedly, and disclose " Sam " 
 as he really is, to him and of him I bow and beg 
 pardon ; but of thee, my reader, I would respectfully 
 crave one moment's consideration of my extraordinary 
 circumstances. Place yourself, for instance, as sud- 
 denly dropped unarmed into a lion's den, or on the 
 peak of Tintoc Tap, in serious conclave with " Clootie " 
 and the ghost of the last burnt Scotch witch, and 
 what would be your demeanour, think you, in such 
 times and in such predicaments 1 If you can imagine 
 these, you can or may guess easily, at your leisure, 
 what my attitude and position are in the company or 
 presence of Sam Mucklebackit at least, in his in- 
 spired or extatic moods, which, in fact, occur so often 
 that they niay be said to be habitual and everlasting. 
 I enquired of him the other day, " Did he read the 
 'Chronicles?" 1 "Yes! I do," he answered, " and I 
 don't care one midge's wing, if you report my conver- 
 sation correctly. If you don't, set ' My Nannie, O,' in- 
 stanter to the making of your winding sheet and let 
 her sew fast ! " THOMAS PINTAIL. 
 
 AN EVENING, OR "TEA PARTY," AT BUNKUM HALL. 
 \ 
 
 This third o' March blaws loud wi' angry sough 
 The vicious day is nearing to a close ! 
 
 Twal ooks it is sin' "oor naigs" drew in a pleugh 
 An' whan they'll draw again, the lord, wha knows ?
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 1 67 
 
 But, despite storms, yauld Pintail furtli he goes, 
 
 Driving himseF in gig to meet his friend ; 
 Swathed up in mufflers, mittens, haps, an' hose, 
 He dares ae nicht in " flow o' soul " to spend, 
 Sae strecht to Clour Kiggs his course does gaily bend ! 
 
 T. P. 
 
 Although, alas ! I am confessedly, and in sad, sad 
 truth, now grown a very infirm and very old man, I 
 am yet, notwithstanding, a right hearty, wonderful, 
 old birkie always, I mean, when beyond the control 
 of a certain " help-meet " whose Christian name which 
 it is Agnes, an honest and simple cognomen enough, 
 but which for all that has been transmogrified in a 
 particular larynx, annoyingly, into that of " My 
 Nannie, ! " Independent and away safe at a reason- 
 able distance from Mrs P., I am a man and a gentle- 
 man, who, albeit happily a pesky tale-bearing 
 " Chronicler," am yet no whining, whinging hum- 
 bug, with a chronic complaint either physical or 
 other as the present high jinks now about to be 
 for all time recorded, will indubitably testify and 
 demonstrate to the most fatuous and remote genera- 
 tions ! About noon, then, of the first day of March, 
 in the present year of grace, the following card was 
 deferentially handed me by a special messenger on 
 horseback : 
 
 "Mr and MrsBoshall's compts. to Mr and Mrs Pin- 
 tail, and would be happy to have them partake of tea 
 at Bunkum Hall on the evening of March 3d, at six 
 P.M. punct. (S. M. and a few friends only expected.) 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 KATHEBINE F. BOSHALL." 
 "Thomas Pintail, Esquire." 
 
 Immediately on receipt of this very polite invitation, 
 I on the spot whereon I stood, resolved (for more than 
 sufficient reasons) to say nothing about it in the mean- 
 time to Agnes ; and as instantly determined slowly
 
 1 68 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 and cautiously to work niy way and find out what the 
 not dubiously initialed " S. M." intended in the 
 matter. With this purpose infolded within the depths 
 of my mental cranium, I energetically despatched 
 right away to Clover Riggs a certain diplomatic, 
 crafty, crowherd boy of mine to very broadty, yet 
 warily, hint to "S. M." that "Tarn of Blaebraes" would 
 most assuredly look him up on the third of March 
 punctually at six P.M. This deep-laid scheme, this 
 clever ruse to discover whether Mucklebackit intended 
 accepting or refusing the invitation of the Boshall's 
 gaed " sair a-glee," or rather succeeded in a fashion I 
 had not planned, because in less than an hour my 
 juvenile ambassador returned heated and dismayed 
 with the curt response to my intimation "That the 
 auld havering tawse-swasher micht hain his spinnel 
 shanks and frousy joints the trouble, for gin he (S. M.) 
 held to the fore, Clover Riggs an' Bunkum Ha', in the 
 persons o' their lordly and carnivorous chiefs, wad herd 
 and hirsel, or war an' worry, thegeither that nicht in 
 the ae den ! In the futherance o' this unco queer 
 tiryvee, tell Maister Pintail that he may joggle owre 
 here in his doug-cairt about five o'clock that nicht, an' 
 I'll drive to Bunkum wi' him, for weel wat I that the 
 auld, meddlin', donnert dotard ettles to interfere an' 
 shute his snoot intil this pie too ! " So, then, my 
 wily stratagem, although recoiling in a sense upon 
 the strategist, was yet in effect a success ; and the 
 evening of March the third saw me draw up in my 
 one-horse chaise in front of Prince Sam's palace, await- 
 ing patiently, like another servitor, the pleasure and 
 appearance of my most noble and honourable lord. 
 The Great Man, the Master, the Terror of Shams, 
 sallied forth from his mansion in good time, punctual 
 to appointment. He was arrayed and attended as 
 became one of his quality, i.e., in a broad-cloth, full- 
 dress market suit of the royal hodden grey of Auld 
 Scotland, defended and reinforced by an enormous fur 
 overcoat, a monster slouched soft-felt " wide-a-wake " 
 hat, and a tremendous brier-root pipe, smoking like
 
 COVNTRY CHRONICLES. 169 
 
 a trawler; and lie was attended and escorted by a 
 huge, shaggy, tousie collie dog at his heels, armed 
 assuredly in, if not to, the teeth, at once his hench- 
 man, his trusty friend, his champion, and his surest 
 guardian. He clutched at and bore down the creaking 
 machine on its broadside, and swung himself into it 
 beside me, without a word, after his first gruff " good 
 evening." " Gee, Meg, gee ! jog on ! " at last, after 
 ensconcing himself snugly among my wraps, he hissed, 
 and away we rattled to Bunkum instanter his escort, 
 the dreadful collie, the while bounding and barking 
 and outdoing Boreas himself. The bitter, freezing, 
 fitful wind sung and soughed in our ears, and swept 
 with a rush and roar, similar to that of a mighty un- 
 seen deluge, througli the fast-falling shades of evening 
 away over the black fields, naked, shivering woods, 
 gloomy hills, and wide-spreading desolation all around. 
 Presently Sam woke up and scanned the lift with a 
 large astonished stare, and then intimated importantly 
 as if to a vast audience of Pintails "A storm is 
 coming on ! " after which laconic meteorological 
 observe, the sage of Clover Riggs sunk back hurriedly 
 within himself and his turnip-bulbed-looking terrible 
 pipe. By this time we were careering over that por- 
 tion of the highway which is known as " the back o' the 
 Law " (Traprain). Here Mucklebackit did indeed at 
 length arouse himself, and, looking lovingly and 
 devotedly up at the hoary heights and dark projecting 
 cliffs and crags (abutting in the shadowy twilight 
 from the snowy expanse of the hill like the monstrous 
 heads and forms of leviathan rats and other vermin 
 from an overgrown corn stack), he stood up in the 
 car, and, with a voice and in tones as those of Niagara 
 itself, he repeated the initial stanza of his ADDRESS TO 
 TRAPRAIN. 
 
 No sooner had the last sonorous diapason of my 
 remarkable companion's thunderous recital rolled off 
 and died away in melancholy echoes among the rocks 
 and precipices of Dumpender than our attention, 
 " Kerslap," was declined and rivetted to a lower level
 
 170 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 even that of this woeful, misery-teeming, extreme- 
 meeting world, by a sight that would have brought 
 tears to the eyes of a stipendiary magistrate. About 
 a hundred yards ahead, trudged determinedly, yet 
 wearily, through the knee-deep snow and slush, and 
 in the very teeth and sway of one of the keenest and 
 coldest blasts of this Polar winter, a poor, scantily- 
 clad woman with two children one of them on her 
 back, the other, a little girl about seven years of age, 
 dragging lamely at her skirts. " Lord ! " cried Sam, 
 the instant he discerned them. " Oh, Pintail ! what's 
 this ] Drive canny, till I see them. Oh, Tarn ! look 
 at that lassie ! She has nae shoon ! ! Stop, I say ! " 
 So crying, or rather frenziedly ejaculating, he grasped 
 and tore the reins out of my hands, and with a pull 
 that brought the pony in a moment back upon its 
 hinders, he fetched us quickly to a dead standstill, 
 and sprang from the gig. In the crack of a whip, he 
 had the poor woman by the hand, and was gesticulat- 
 ing and pointing in speechless agitation to the little 
 girl. The Arctic wind raged and pelted us with 
 blasts of the bitterest hail I ever felt in all my life, 
 I, also, betimes, and with benumbed and stiff difficulty, 
 descended from the trap, and joined the party. We 
 found that the woman was the wife of a sailor, at pre- 
 sent an invalid in the " Sailors' Home " of South 
 Shields, and that she was travelling thence from Glas- 
 gow to join and nurse him. It was impossible to gaze 
 at her and listen to her without believing her. Every 
 look, every gesture, word, and expression were those 
 of unmistakable truth and virtuous misfortune. She 
 and the children were poorly and insufficiently attired, 
 but yet cleanly and neatly, and an indefinable air of 
 refinement and some culture was thrown around her, 
 and shown in all her words and actions. At the close 
 of her narrative, the little girl looked beseechingly up 
 into Sam's face which was at this time a field of 
 study for even a John Leitch. As Mucklebackit's 
 gaze met that of the little girl's, he hurriedly turned 
 his back on us all, and excitedly groped and searched
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. \ 7 1 
 
 every pocket in his extensive toggery. Not apparently 
 discovering what he wanted, he wheeled around as if 
 in a rage, grasped me angrily and gruffly by the collar 
 of the coat, in the manner of a highway robber 
 captain, shook me, and cried in a voice of terrific 
 seriousness and vehemence. "Your money, I say ! your 
 money or your life ! No excuse ! I have no change. 
 Give to me every penny ! Denial is dangerous ! 
 Fork out, I say ! " When this demand had been com- 
 plied with on the spot, to the very utmost farthing, 
 and when over a half sovereign had been transferred 
 from my purse into the woman's pocket, the giant of 
 Clover Riggs handed and assisted the sailor's wife into 
 the buggy (which, permit me to say, is a most excel- 
 lent four-seated one, from the yard of iny ingenious 
 and generous-hearted friend, Hislop of Goatfield, Had- 
 dington), as if he had been the most polite and atfable 
 of courtiers, and she no less than a veritable princess 
 of the blood royal. The little girl, who clung, arid 
 had been strangely drawn to Sam from the very first, 
 he lifted in his powerful arms like a feather, and held 
 on his knee after he had clambered into and seated 
 himself in the drosky. " Drive on as before, 
 Tammas," he said mildly, as he slipped off my driving 
 mittens to shoe the poor, bleeding, benumbed feet of 
 his little ward with, while she cuddled and sheltered 
 herself in his huge bosom, like a scared little mousie 
 under a thackbunch on a thrashing day. In a jiffey, 
 the strange pair became fast friends, and chaffed and 
 chattered, and were kissing and cracking like two 
 lovers just met after years of enforced separation. As 
 we passed the entry to Leddyslove, we drew up again 
 and set them down, after Sam had directed and 
 charged the woman to go straight to Hootsman's, who 
 would fix her up for the night, and not to leave next 
 day upon any account till he saw her, however late it 
 might be. As they stood on the roadway, in the full 
 sweep of the freezing easter, the little girl weeping 
 and sobbing as if her tiny heart would break, Sam 
 turned to me, and without a blnsh ov a stammer, de-
 
 172 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 liberately craved me for my plaid to give to the 
 woman ! I demurred, and expostulated aside, and 
 said that I thought this was really coming it too 
 strong. I had already given him for them a whole 
 half sovereign and a braw new pair of driving mittens, 
 and now to coax or wheedle from me my beautiful 
 and valuable Paisley maud why why, goodness 
 gracious ! what would Mrs P. say ? He replied that 
 he would more than repay me every penny, with 
 interest added. I hinted back that he had not done 
 so a hundred times before, and reminded him of the 
 Sunday topcoat he quite recently borrowed from me to 
 give to a blind fiddler. " Gae wa'," he coolly replied, 
 in his blandest manner, " gae wa', Tammas, tell your 
 aspiring leddy that you bestowed the bonnie braw 
 wab o' worsit braidclaith as a present on the laird's 
 billie, an' man, she '11 kiss you on baith cheeks 
 for the glorious fib ! Besides, I 'm coming owre 
 on Saturday, and I '11 persuade My Nannie, O, to 
 relent. The paltry Joan I ask shall be redeemed in 
 a day or twa at maist. Come, I say ! doff that old 
 blanket this moment, and have done with this fooling. 
 You shall have for a mere song the old wooden har- 
 rows you so much admired the other day. Give me 
 the carpet!" Of course lie had his way. Muckle- 
 backit is irresistible, and is master of everybody. 
 Therefore the wife of the man of the sea was then and 
 there shawled with my dear old plaid, just as Her 
 Majesty the Queen may be enwrapped in the royal 
 mantle by her faithful squire, the sapient John Brown. 
 I will not attempt to describe the leave-taking of 
 Samuel Mucklebackit and the sailor's wife and the 
 little girl. Had she had her desire, I doubt not that 
 the poor grateful body would have bobbed down on 
 her knees before him, and would have even then 
 wished to kiss the very soles of his snow-besmirched 
 boots, and that despite of the fact that all the time 
 he was lecturing and admonishing her in language 
 severer than any ever heard out of a " Charity 
 Hospital." But his stern big words were all but as
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 173 
 
 one of his make-believes ; for, in a sense opposite of 
 the common one, Sam is a hypocrite of the hypocrites. 
 So when the little girl Susan came forward weeping 
 to impress with her childly, innocent lips the farewell 
 kiss upon his great, bronzed, deep-gullied, Killiecrankie- 
 looking, profusely -bearded visage, this found-out 
 Pharisee actually blubbered, and then after hugging 
 her once or twice turned tail and fled her in shame 
 and confusion. After they had fairly parted for good 
 (till the next day) and we had driven a space in 
 silence alone, my attention was again drawn to my 
 friend by the extraordinary way he was drawing the 
 stupendous sleeve of his voluminous greatcoat athwart 
 the middle latitude of his undiscovered countenance, 
 and by his beginning and continuing to ease his over- 
 charged heart in words which resembled neither con- 
 verse, speech, prayer, nor sermon, but were a combin- 
 ation of all these and fifty others. It was thus, while 
 groaning, moaning, and mourning, and swaying his 
 Jove-like bulk that, as nearly as I can remember, he 
 half soliloquised, or mused aloud, anent the sailor's 
 wife incident, &c. " Eh ! Dominie, what a world is 
 this ! Physical, social, intellectual, moral, an' spiritual, 
 evil an' wrong everywhere ! The puir, puir cratur's ! 
 Trampin' a' the road to Shiel's 'eenoo in this weather, 
 an' trampin' sae through Christian Scotland ! The 
 thocht o' wee Susie, the bonnie wee lassie bairn, is 
 atweel owre inuckle for me! "When she came an' 
 twined her little arms sae confidingly around my neck 
 I thocht I wad choke, an' felt as if a haill regent 
 tattie had gotten into an' stuck fast in my hause ! 
 Oh, for the morn ! " &c. 
 
 No sight is so touching or so pathetic in this world 
 as that of a strong man in a supreme agony of grief or 
 compassion. My plaid ! why in that harrowing ex- 
 treme moment, when the sight of my too sensitive 
 friend's distress thrilled my nature to its profoundest 
 depths, I could have stripped, I say, and given him 
 every garment off' my aged person, and, of course, 
 have confronted and braved even Mrs P. herself into
 
 174 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 the bargain. At last, we arrived and drew up before 
 the magnificent mansion of Bunkum Hall, only after 
 all a short half-hour behind time a moonshine 
 matter. 
 
 So, "2 Resoom," as Artemus Ward, the immortal 
 showman, would have said, that is, in front of the 
 mansion of Bunkum Hall, our Avelcome by mine host 
 and hostess, and the dismissal of our little horse and 
 snow-smutched carriage stable-wards. Between the 
 mantel jams of the Boshall's luxuriously nay, ex- 
 travagantly furnished parlour, flamed up, blazed and 
 crackled in glorious fettle, a most welcome fire of the 
 cleanest and finest black diamonds from Newcastle, 
 via Dunbar, of course. We both of us were stiff and 
 frozen to the marrow ; but we soon began to thaw 
 gradually, till our entire beings were warmed and 
 loosened, and began to exhibit unmistakable signs of 
 returning vigorous vitality. The room we sat in I had 
 seen several times previous to the night of the party, 
 but Sam, never before. It is splendidly and richly 
 furnished and ornamented gilt, gold, and glitter 
 everywhere carpeted, big easy-chaired, and pictured. 
 The " Big-house " is new, having been only built for the 
 first time some three years ago ; the farm prior to that 
 period being always let as a " led " one i.e., one taken 
 conjointly with another on which the tenant resides. 
 The stables, sheds, courts, and other outhouses com- 
 prising the "mains" have all been designed and put 
 up on the most approved pattern for such structures. 
 The stone used in the erections is a beautiful speci- 
 men of the " old red " from the neighbouring quarry 
 of Garvald ; in the carting of which to its present 
 destination, Mr Boshall declares (haltingly and con- 
 fusedly) that he only lost three young Clydesdale 
 horses, valued at 90 a head, slipped the shoulders of 
 other two, and totally wrecked and used up only 
 ten bran new coup-carts) bought in at 12 a piece. 
 Covered cattle courts, with plank gangways from the 
 thrashing-mill, watered stables, asphalte-floored pig- 
 geries, byres, and even rabbit-houses the whole form-
 
 CO UNTK Y CHRONICLES. 175 
 
 ing a symmetrical and perfect quadrangle, the only en- 
 trance to which is by a massive wooden slot gate, which 
 is closed and locked, and the key of which is brought 
 in regularly every night to the kitchen before nine 
 o'clock. And yet and yet, there is something amiss 
 and wrong at Bunkum Hall ! What is it ? Persevere, 
 my gallant reader, in the sober perusal of these true 
 " Chronicles," and if I don't make it all as plain as a 
 pikestaff, trust never more to the sworn assurance and 
 pledged word of a " dominie ! " The above items are 
 merely culled from recollections of former visits to 
 Bunkum we will revisit the " mains" anon in capable 
 company, and so at present I will resume the delightful 
 narrative of our tea-party. 
 
 When our eyes and eyelids had melted sufficiently 
 to justify us venturing a three o'clock-in-the-morning- 
 like peep at our surroundings, we simultaneously 
 recognised, and were saluted by, the following well- 
 known members of Hadclington "society," viz. : James 
 Clods, farmer of Teuchcleuch, a widower, aged about 
 fifty-five, an unsophisticated and simple husbandman 
 of the ancient school ; William and Mrs Trueheart, of 
 the farm of Lealmuir (parents of a perfect smoutrie of 
 little Truehearts), in middle life and straitened cir- 
 cumstances ; George Tweedledum of Tweedledee, 
 well-known, but not at all in reality the character he 
 is popularly taken to be ; Mr and Mrs Boshall, our 
 glum host, and our saddened and apparently heavily- 
 burdened, and suppressed hostess ; Miss Jessie Fair- 
 bairn, a younger sister of Mrs Boshall's, a girl of 
 sixteen a beauty, a blond, a bird of Paradise, brighter 
 and fairer than the " Lass o' Ballochmyle," but, sad 
 to relate, not " perfection," and even susceptible to 
 the broad daylight wiles of J. Hootsman ; Miss 
 Caroline and Master Willie Boshall, children of our 
 hosts, aged- the girl ten and the boy about seven ; 
 John Hootsman, the " bold," of Leddyslove, tetat no 
 less than sixty years ; and T. P. and S. M., whom, of 
 course, we neither recognised nor saluted, but who were, 
 all the same, the observed of all observers there ! As
 
 176 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 the tea-table apparently had been "set" before the arrival 
 of the company, we were soon each and ilka one of us 
 in position, and going at it as robust health and clear 
 consciences prompted and permitted. A blessing was 
 asked upon, and thanks returned for, the meal in the 
 most lugubrious and approved Scottish manner by 
 your humble servant T. F. During the tea "bee" 
 or before the expulsion of hunger the talk was merely 
 monosyllabic, and chiefly of a complimentary descrip- 
 tion, either relating to our various healths and physical 
 conditions, the wondrous weather, or offers, acceptances, 
 or refusals of fresh supplies of the Bohea, or any of 
 the edibles and confectionery towering in plate and 
 trencher on the snowy-draped board at which we sat. 
 Sam, I saw, was at times during the repast " stock- 
 taking," and at other times plunged out of reach in 
 an abyss of mournful cogitation, and it was self-evi- 
 dent to me, who have known and loved him so long 
 and so well, that the sailor's wife incident was even 
 then affecting and employing all the sympathies and 
 powers of his big heart and wonderful intellect. At 
 the noisy or latter end of the collation, when the 
 servant lass in white muslin apron and coquetish 
 lace cap came in, flitted about, and began to 
 remove things, I observed with some amazement 
 the giant arousing himself and striking up a strangely 
 familiar friendship with the Boshall children, whom 
 he happened to be sitting next. Meanwhile, a four- 
 handed discussion was progressing between Messrs 
 Boshall, Clods, Trueheart, and myself as to which is 
 the best and cheapest method of ridding land of 
 wrack or couchgrass. (Hootsman took no share in 
 this crack, he being, as usually he is when or wher- 
 ever possible, the centre or stalk of a whole flower-bed 
 of fair ladies.) Mr Clods stated that he had " feuchan 
 simmer and winter, year an' year on end for abune 
 therty twal months noo against the wrack, an' instead 
 o' gettin' the better o't he sair dreaded it was fast 
 gettin' the better o' him. His plan for some years 
 back had been to ettle an' clean the turnip bit as
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 177 
 
 weel's he could, an' let the rest o' the farm gang." 
 Mr Trueheart said he waged war against the enemy 
 everlastingly, and that he embraced every opportunity 
 to root him out, but he doubted if his plan were the 
 right one, for his farm to-day he with shame con- 
 fessed was as foul as it had been anytime during 
 his lease. Our host, Mr Boshall, gravely or gruffly 
 asserted that the infernal pest cost him hundreds of 
 pounds sterling every year. Last summer, he con- 
 tinued, I paid no less a sum down to one contractor 
 from Haddington than 64 for picking and afterwards 
 hoeing 28 Scots acres, and still it was anything but 
 clean. Mr Pintail, how do you manage t Thus 
 appealed to, before such a large and intelligent com- 
 pany, I reddened and blushed like a thrashing-mill 
 furnace at dusk, and stammered out half aloud that 
 all my farm methods were merely copies of those of 
 my eminent friend Mr Mucklebackit, but if they 
 wanted information anent any or all of them, Sam, I 
 had no doubt, would at once afford it when applied 
 to. " Mr Mucklebackit," cried Boshall, with a dis- 
 agreeableness in his tone and manner, " Samuel, you 
 hear that ! Please chuck that imp from your knee ! 
 (Bill ! go and sit down on your stool by the window), 
 and give us, Samuel, your opinion." " Dear Mr 
 Boshall," replied Samuel, sitting still and without 
 relaxing one whit his grasp of the little lad in his 
 arms, " let the little fellow nestle where he is. Pro- 
 vidence has not yet blessed me with any children of 
 my own, and I would a thousand times hold him as 
 not. The subject of your conversation wrack or 
 couch is one of the most important that can engage 
 the attention of responsible and sensible men. I ask 
 of you all a few minutes' consideration whilst I briefly 
 explain what I seriously believe to be the best way of 
 operating and waging hostilities against the wrack 
 pest. The efficiency of the mode I am now going to 
 recommend has been tested by myself more than 
 once on my first farm, and every item of it may 
 be relied upon with the most absolute faith by 
 
 M
 
 178 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 you all. On an averaged sized say a five-pair horse 
 farm, which is being wrocht on the auld six coorse 
 shift, the best in my opinion ever tried yet there 
 will be annually from 40 to 50 acres apportioned off 
 for turnips. Upon this section all the available 
 strength of the farm cavalry and infantry, horse and 
 foot, man and woman should be directed and con- 
 centrated as early as possible after the stocks of the 
 preceding white crop have been removed. Grub as 
 well as possible a double time, two double times, five 
 double times if necessary. Then harrow immediately, 
 well, unsparingly, and thoroughly. After the harrow- 
 ing, the outworkers should go over the break, and with 
 grapes or pitchforks shake out carefully every tuft or 
 clue of wrack left by the harrows the one sole object 
 being to have the couch entirely free of soil, and to 
 leave it spread thin and loose on the surface in order 
 fully to expose it to the influence of the weather and 
 winter frosts. This done, no later than early spring 
 or the end of February, the field should be ploughed 
 with a strong fur, a worker going after each plough, 
 and with a grape placing carefully every pile of dead 
 or half-dead wrack in the sole of the exposed furrow. 
 If all this, gentlemen, be at all as efficiently accom- 
 plished as I have indicated, couch grass on such por- 
 tion of the farm operated upon will be invisible for a 
 cycle of years to come, and not only couch, but docks, 
 chickweed, ' little good,' crowfoot, wild oats some- 
 what, and yellow weed or wild mustard entii-ely, if the 
 frost has approximated during the winter to anything 
 like zero. With regard to the cost of this system of 
 cultivation, I can assure you that whenever or wherever 
 this plan is adopted and properly carried out, a saving 
 compared with the old-fashioned way of chain harrowing 
 and gathering of not less than from fifty to seventy 
 per cent, will be booked on the cleaning alone, besides 
 the dead certainty of a b v etter braird and a fuller and 
 larger crop of turnips at the end. There are two con- 
 ditions necessary for the full success of this mode of 
 autumn cultivation, and these are dry land and fair
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. \ 79 
 
 weather during the time of operating. Where the 
 soil is light or loamy, a slight harrowing about the end 
 of April or a week or two before ' making up ' time 
 is advisable. Therefore but what in the world is 
 that auld Jock Hootsman daein' ? Jack ! ah, ye 
 rogue ! little ken ye hoo closely I hae been observing 
 you a' the time I've been delivering this dreich speech 
 on wrack killin' ! Gentlemen, I'm clean gane gyte an' 
 ramfeezled gin the auld cadgie fule be-na owre the 
 lugs in love, and breestin' up like a halflin' to Miss 
 Jessie ! Jock, the tea table is cleared, the toddy is 
 brewed an' steaming, an' ye are on a' hands ca'd upon 
 for a song ! Come here, ye villain, an' rax your chafts 
 directly ! " " Honest men and bonnie lassies " all 
 saw Jack, the lady-killer of sixty-five years, tearing 
 himself with sighs and lingering looks from the side 
 of Miss Jessie on the sofa. " Our oracle Sam is very 
 good and very apt at singing sarcastic squibs upon 
 some of his best friends. What if we should this ae 
 nicht turn roond upon him an' drench him wi' a doze 
 of his favourite drug 1 I am not nor never have been 
 a ' literary ' man, but I croon a vairse whiles for a' 
 that. Sae here goes at a kind o' rame on Muckle- 
 backit and his wife to the tune o' ' Oh ! Jamie lad.' " 
 As the bald yeoman closed his rame, and after he had 
 tipped off his first tumbler, he shouted like a sea 
 captain in a tempest " Stand to your guns, my lads ! 
 I claim the usual privilege, and call upon Mucklebackit 
 himself for a song no speech ! " (Reiterated rounds 
 of thunderous applause, which drowned every gust 
 and whistle of the storm outside.) " Leddies and 
 gentlemen," said the Great Mogul of all the East 
 Country, erecting himself on end in his throne, and 
 with a grin, purpling, and weirdly illuminating his 
 elongated face, as curiously and outre as that of the sun- 
 rise of a to-be wet harvest day, " Leddies and gentle- 
 men, you have asked me, my friends, for a song, sae 
 hae patience an' forbearance while I try and please ye 
 by shouting, or roaring this ditty to the air o' ' Green 
 grow the rashes, O ! ' " cried Sam, gaily, telescoping the
 
 i8o RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 ceiling of the room through the hottom of an inverted 
 tumbler, till his very beard perspired and trickled 
 toddy for sympathy : 
 
 When duns and game reived a' we grew, 
 
 An' profits were but sma' bits, 0, 
 Tae men' the ill, we planned a " Bill" 
 Tae drap the hares an' rabbits, O ! 
 Baith hares an' rabbits, 0, 
 Baith hares an' rabbits, 0, 
 His Lordship led the glorious raid 
 Against the hares an' rabbits, ! 
 
 In screeds post prandial, when the wine 
 Our noble selves would thaw bits, 0, 
 
 We raised the glee at mony a spree 
 By " drap ping " hares ail' rabbits, ! 
 Baith hares, &c. 
 
 In auld electioneering times 
 
 When generous were our habits, 0, 
 
 We wan the day owre Hope an' Hay 
 By " drapping " hares an' rabbits, ! 
 Baith hares, &c. 
 
 E'en when the bauld Buchanan split 
 
 Our following in twa bits, 0, 
 We reached the goal an' tapped the pole 
 
 By " drapping " hares and rabbits, ! 
 Baith hares, &c. 
 
 Noo, sated firm in Stevie's Ha', 
 
 We canna whyles but blavv bits, ! 
 
 J Tis such rare fun wi' gab or gun, 
 
 Tae " drap " the hares an' rabbits, ! 
 Baith hares, &c. 
 
 As soon as the extensiv^ five-storeyed structure of 
 Bunkum Hall had ceased to dirl with the concussion 
 produced by the ecstatic and uproarious applause ac- 
 corded Sam's melody, Hootsman stepped forward again
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 1 8 1 
 
 jauntily, and warmly entreated the artist of Clover 
 liiggs to favour Miss Jessie and the other ladies 
 with his " Warld's wail," or thrashing-mill-day croon. 
 Doubtless, despite its celebrity, some few of my 
 countless readers will be marvelling and yearning to 
 know what this to them mysterious " Warld's wail" 
 actually means. The " wail," then, is a strange 
 wordless chant, or a long indescribable " service of 
 song," which cannot be given in print, but which, all 
 the same, I hesitate not to say, is one of the most 
 wonderful productions of even this age of wonders. 
 It was composed or, rather, to speak with my char- 
 acteristic exactness it was wafted from the spheres 
 into the musical soul of Mucklebackit about the middle 
 of his first thrashing day after the awful Tay Bridge 
 disaster, and he still invariably croons it, he tells me, 
 when tending the steam-engine at Clover Riggs. The 
 strange power of the sound of machinery in action is 
 proverbial. Hence Shakespeare makes Falstaff ex- 
 claim " Would I were a weaver, I could sing psalms 
 or anything." This much for the origin of this 
 astonishing production, but who, oh ! who, except the 
 few favoured initiated ones, will credit the following 
 most truthful relation of the manner and mode of its 
 recital in the domestic circle 1 Nevertheless, I, T. P., 
 ignoring utterly this last consideration, shall, in the 
 stern spirit of an impartial historian, proceed to 
 recount and chronicle, as briefly as is compatible with 
 the full and rigid truth, the whole story of the 
 astounding performance of this glory of the nineteenth 
 century, as witnessed and heard by several, both male 
 and female, in the parlour of Bunkum Hall, on the 
 occasion of the last memorable " tea party " there. 
 An empty hat or bandbox, a saucepan, or " kail-pat " 
 half filled with pebbles from the " coach road," and a 
 stir-about or " parritch-stick," having all been pro- 
 cured from the wardrobes and pantries of Mrs Boshall, 
 proceedings were immediately instituted by Sam 
 encaverning his immense, rugged, Bass Rock looking 
 head in the capacious cavity of the inverted bandbox,
 
 1 82 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 in order, as he himself lucidly and imperturbably 
 explained, to conceal from his audience the menda- 
 cious and excruciating facial contortions which a faith- 
 ful rendering of the " wail " necessitated him making, 
 and Hootsman and myself severally getting ready for 
 our parts Jack, in the centre of the room, with feet 
 and voice to imitate the noise of a steam-engine at 
 work, and your humble servant, T. P., seating himself 
 on a low stool by his side, with kail - pat betwixt 
 knees and parritch - stick in hand, ready to begin 
 " steerin' the chuckie stanes," so as near as possible to 
 simulate the whirr and din of a " high-speed" thrashing- 
 mill in full and furious whirl ! At a given signal from 
 the grave artist in the gaudily decorated and ornately- 
 labelled Parisian bandbox, Hootsman and I started, 
 operating almost simultaneously and in splendid style 
 we, both of us, being adepts and au fait in the per- 
 formance, by reason of us having rehearsed our parts 
 at tea parties and other merry-makings often before. 
 As soon as the " mill " and " engine " were supposed 
 to be in proper dinsome career, Mucklebackit preluded 
 his musical masterpiece with a few make-ready coughs, 
 and then bravely commenced to thread the dream- 
 land mazes the fairy- world labyrinths, intricacies, 
 sinuosities and the unspeakable, yea, utterly inde- 
 scribable depths and heights, lengths and breadths of 
 his unparalleled and inimitable thrashing- mill-day 
 medley of song ! Had Sam originated even nothing 
 more substantial or recordable than this wordless, yet 
 most profound "wail" no matter, it hath assuredly 
 got enough of the breath and wind of the immortal in 
 it to waft his familiar name right down through the 
 generations, and up to the very crimsoning gates of the 
 golden dawn of Doomsday ! 
 
 In one moment, as if by a stave of the glamour of 
 Pan or Apollo himself, the wild hilarity and gay 
 laughter of the joyous 'Hea party" were exchanged 
 for an attitude the most silent, rapt, and serious, and 
 that, remember, despite the grotesqueness and even 
 ridiculousness of the scene. From within his grotto,
 
 COUNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 1 83 
 
 this warlock warbler, this masculine and melancholy 
 successor of Jenny Lind, his heart rent and his soul 
 dismayed, in all likelihood with the mournfulness and 
 terribleness of the then recent Tay Bridge calamity, 
 began in a sweet treble a low, plaintive, hum-hum 
 strain or chant, which so sighed, soughed, and sounded 
 in the ears of the entranced listeners, that they seemed 
 to feel as if hearkening to a whole choir of heart- 
 broken mothers, sobbing and sorrowing over the dead 
 bodies of their first-born. In the climax and deepest 
 despair of this most touching and saddest of requiems 
 a pause is made by the artist, the members of the 
 company look tearfully aghast at each other, and as 
 they do so the "engine" suddenly puts on more steam, 
 quickens speed, and puffs and thuds and snorts more 
 loudly, the " mill " at the same time birling and rum- 
 bling still more distractingly, when instantly and 
 abruptly the audience are startled to the quick by a 
 bold, martial note heroic, and in a moment they are 
 warring in spirit with "Wallace wight, " red wat shod," 
 listening to Kobert the Bruce on the morning of 
 Bannockburn, struggling at Pentland or Both well Brig 
 with the noble Covenanters, marching on Carlisle with 
 Bonnie Prince Charlie " over the Border awa, awa ! " 
 driving their foes before them like geese at Water- 
 loo, and anon flashing all their sabres bare with the 
 red-coated Light Brigade in the valley of death. But 
 just as they are dissecting, in the interests of their own 
 anatomy, the last Eussian gunner, whoo ! the musical 
 warrior, helmeted to the shoulders with the old band- 
 box, cries, quite coolly, " Hootsman, clank leisurely ! 
 a belt's off ! " and immediately striking slap-bang into 
 a weirdly-rollicking wizard's dance or strathspey of 
 moonshine-mirth, and unearthly humour, ended this 
 most remarkable of all remarkable vocal feasts, by 
 clothing and putting his hearers in their right mind 
 with humming the air and then shouting aloud this 
 novel adaptation of a verse of a well-known song by 
 Burns :
 
 1 84 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 My Kannie's charming tho' not young, 
 As harmless as she's bonnie, ! 
 
 The stinging nettle never grew 
 That milder is than Nannie, ! 
 
 Erelong, when we had all come to ourselves and 
 some toddy after the " wail," we had a most enjoyable 
 snack of supper, consisting mainly of hot minced 
 collops and bottled ale ; and then we had some really 
 charming singing and playing on the piano of the 
 " auld Scots sangs " by the enthralling and accom- 
 plished Miss Jessie Fairbairn, and the scarcely less 
 delightful Mrs Trueheart ; but we were interrupted in 
 this by the noisy arrival of a special messenger from 
 Teuchcleuch, urgently insisting Mr Clod's immediate 
 return thither, as one of his most valuable horses had 
 been taken suddenly and alarmingly ill. This annoy- 
 ing episode very naturally turned the conversation of 
 us gentlemen into a " horsey " channel, which, begin- 
 ning at first as a mere brooklet of stable lingo, be- 
 times, and rapidly, swelled into a perfect hubbub and 
 sea of equine or equestrian jargon and nomenclature. 
 Boshall bewailed with some energy, if not eloquence, 
 the heavy and grievous losses sustained by farmers from 
 deterioration and loss of stock by disease and death. 
 Since he began farming at Bunkum, three yeare ago, 
 nine of his best horses and one pony had succumbed 
 to the ruthless destroyer. Taken at the low average 
 of .70 a head, this gave 700 for the whole period, 
 or fully 230 of a loss by death in horses alone for 
 each year of his occupancy ! He believed his might 
 be an extreme case, although he knew of several others 
 fully as bad. Answering an inquiry by Mucklebackit 
 as to how he provendered his stud, he said that he 
 had tried various ways, all with much the same result. 
 At present he was giving the steamed food system a 
 chance ; but this method, he was sorry to say, was not 
 proving an unmitigated success either, for he had had 
 two or three very dangerous cases of colic and in- 
 digestion since he began it two months ago. It was
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 185 
 
 at this stage of the crack that we all observed Sam 
 excitedly, yet quite tenderly, setting down the little 
 lad Willie (who had again clambered up into his nest 
 on the giant's knee), and then by degrees elevating 
 himself till his whole colossal figure towered up, engine- 
 stalk like, right on end, at the head of the table. 
 " Gentlemen ! " he shouted, in a voice of actually 
 appalling keenness and earnestness ; " Gentlemen, I 
 say, are you willing that I should address a remark or 
 two to you on the subject of our present conversation 1 
 If not, never mind, no matter at all, to me." (Loud 
 cries of "go on," and applause.) "Instead of a re- 
 mark or two," resumed Mucklebackit, eagerly, " I 
 should ardently desire the privilege and opportunity 
 of delivering a two hours' lecture to you upon this 
 great theme to wit, the management, breeding, 
 rearing, housing, grooming, and working of agricul- 
 tural and other horses ; but of course such a speech, 
 in such place, and in such time and circumstances as 
 the present is altogether out of the question ; there- 
 fore, I shall confine myself entirely, and yerk out 
 only a sentence or twa on and anent the causes of 
 disease and death in our stable animals. Leaving out 
 the inevitable doom of aged quadrupeds, I believe, 
 gentlemen, that at least three-fifths of our agricultural 
 horses die by reason of the dense and impervious 
 ignorance of their masters and keepers. Were it not 
 for this impregnable thickheadedness of ours, the life 
 of the horse in East Lothian would almost be as 
 safe as that of our Queen Victoria. Because he hap- 
 pens to own, or drive, or groom a horse, your self- 
 satisfied, never-doubting, clever ignoramus complacent- 
 ly thinks himself also the master of the whole know- 
 ledge of his beautiful, delicate, and complex organisa- 
 tion, and, monkey-like, deems himself, more than anyone 
 else, learned and competent to lay down the principles, 
 or rather no principles, on which his ward shall be 
 worked, housed, fed, &c. Hence, of course, disaster, 
 disease, and death follow as the quite legitimate 
 results of such presumptive folly and illiterate arro-
 
 1 86 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 gance. Oh ! my dear friends, abjnre, discard at once 
 and for ever all such almost criminal stupidity, and 
 confess before you sleep that you know nothing 
 absolutely nothing more about the horse than his 
 external appearance, and some of you not even that 
 truly, for by your treatment of him not a few of you 
 would seem to have mistaken him for an elephant, a 
 camel, a pig, or even a common cow ! I know of a 
 young man who, when any one of his stud is ailing, 
 regularly goes through the pantomime or farce of 
 actually feeling the pulse, the ears, and the fetlocks, 
 &c., of the patient, and then, with his mind fully 
 made up as to the nature of the complaint, declares 
 sententiously to the attendant what the disease is, 
 and how and by what means it can alone be cured, 
 and this young fellow, gentlemen, knows for certain as 
 much about the physiology and nature of a horse as 
 he does of the hump on the back of the man in the 
 moon ! What is the result ? Within the period of 
 my acquaintance with him, he has lost a stocking of 
 no fewer than thirty-five horses ! Mr Boshall, you 
 are now, you say, experimenting with steamed or 
 boiled food. Boiled mortality call it rather, unnatural, 
 disease-propagating, death-dealing slops ! My dear 
 friends, we have no time at present to allow me, even 
 were I competent which I am not to speechify you 
 into being experts in the veterinary art, or even that 
 branch of it relating to the natural laws which indicate 
 and govern the true principles of the scientific treat- 
 ment and management of our studs. But, gentle- 
 men, I can give you in a few minutes what I think 
 may prove of far more service to you as owners and 
 employers of horses, and that is a brief narrative of 
 part of my own experience in the stable. (Applause, 
 and tumblers tilted all round.) Observing the severe 
 losses incurred by agriculturists, from death amongst 
 ' stock,' I, on entering my first place, resolved to 
 study for myself the whole matter, from the root 
 upward ; and in the course of a mouth or two, I 
 suppose, I had peeped into, slipped, or masterfully
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 187 
 
 read and digested quite a considerable library of works 
 on veterinary medicine and the sciences connected 
 therewith. Erelong I, with grief and amazement, per- 
 ceived what unnameable numskulls we rustics are in 
 even the ABC knowledge of subjects and objects 
 specially and everlastingly connected with our own 
 profession. After weeks and months of continuous 
 observation and anxious meditation, I at last deter- 
 mined to manage the stud entrusted by Fate's decree 
 to my care in this fashion : From the beginning of 
 harvest till sowing-time of the following season, I 
 would allow each horse, daily, three feeds or 15 Ibs. 
 of a compound of oats, barley, and bran, mixed in 
 the proportion of 3 bolls light, but sound, dry barley, 
 and one sack of the best bran to every 5 bolls good 
 Scotch oats. During fresh weather, I would also allow 
 each horse two or three turnips daily but sorry a 
 crinch or bite when the bulbs were frosted. Fresh 
 and dry straw they revelled in ad libitum. From long 
 fasts, long, long yokings, and draughty and improperly 
 ventilated stables, I strove to keep them as free as 
 much as lay in my power, and also I stoutly deter- 
 mined upon insisting that each individual nag received 
 a thorough, daily, curry-combing and grooming. From 
 seed-time till after the turnips were made, I added 
 1 Ib. to each feed (or 3 Ibs. per horse per diem), and 
 foddered with hay, also ad libitum. From the open- 
 ing of harvest till the end of the following June, each 
 animal had given him a bran mash every Saturday, 
 additional to one half of his regular diet. After turnip 
 making-time I kept the horses in the cattle courts, 
 and gave them daily one feed only of the aforesaid 
 grain mixture, and cut grass at pleasure. To this 
 system of equine administration 1 faithfully adhered 
 and practised for thirteen years. My " " Beg par- 
 don, dear Sam," interrupted our host, " but I am 
 anxious above all things to know what amount of 
 success, if any, attended your interesting experiment. 
 I should fancy that during such an extended period as 
 that of thirteen years, some dozens of horses must have
 
 1 88 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 passed through your hands, and that your peculiar mode 
 of feeding, &c., must have been tested to the full. As 
 the true criterion of any given method is its result, pray, 
 Mr Mucklebackit, tell us, if you remember, how many 
 quadrupeds you lost during all the thirteen years." 
 " Gladly, Mr Boshall, I was just coming to that,'' re- 
 joined Sam, candidly. " Gentlemen, dear friends, 
 I trust I may call you all, believe me, my only pur- 
 pose in speaking is to benefit you, and not to blazon 
 forth or parade myself. Kindly remember this at all 
 times, but particularly during the next five minutes, 
 I lost not one ae single individual horse, auld or 
 young, during the whole thirteen years " (profound 
 sensation) " and Mr Wishart, V.S., of Haddington, 
 besides numerous other folk still toddlin', can testify 
 to the exact truth of what I now affirm simply as a 
 matter of scrupulous and rigid fact." " Did you ever 
 breed any, Sam 1 " interrogated Mr Trueheart, amazed- 
 ly and eagerly. " Yes, but only to the extent of one or 
 two foals ilka year." " And did you never lose one 
 even of them all the thirteen years 1" " No, not one, 
 either at birth, castration, or brealdng-in time. We 
 had once a case of abortion, but that was entirely 
 owing to the carelessness of one man, the driver of 
 the mare. Gentlemen, I attribute my total immunity 
 from mortality not altogether to the wisdom of my 
 system of feeding, &c., but in a large degree, to my 
 inviolable rule and practice of drenching the horse 
 with oil, and sending for the ' Vet.' immediately on 
 the outbreak of any serious-looking complaint, and, 
 after his visit, adhering strictly to his instructions. 
 One other matter. I always particularly pressed and 
 enjoined upon the men to guard against draught, be- 
 lieving that the first of all causes of inflammation is a 
 chill most commonly received by the animal whilst in 
 a heated state, after being taken from the yoke. On 
 the other hand, I conscientiously think that a horse 
 would be much safer in an altogether roofless shed 
 that in an inefficiently ventilated stable. Sweet and 
 pure air, abundantly and constantly supplied and
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 189 
 
 renewed, is the very elixir and eau de vie of all animal 
 existence. Stables, when properly constructed, should 
 be at least twenty feet in width, and all doors and win- 
 dows leading into them should be through the wall 
 opposite to that at which the stalls are ranged. This 
 last is a most particular matter, and you are kittens 
 indeed if you don't see to it when taking your next 
 farms ! The cost of my system of feeding is much less 
 than that of the common one of East Lothian ; but it 
 could be economised and lessened a deal more by cut- 
 ting the fodder and bruising the grain and then mix- 
 ing the two. I believe that this plan is also the best 
 and safest for the horses themselves. Gentlemen, I 
 toast you all in a bumper, and heaven grant you may 
 profit by anything I have said or suggested. What I 
 have spoken is a simple statement of fact, and you and 
 every fanner in the county may rely upon it as a 
 chapter of the very gospel of truth. Not one letter of 
 one word of what has been said but Samuel Muckle- 
 backit is ready with his life to answer for ! " 
 
 After the somewhat uproarious applause which 
 followed the exceedingly mild termination of Sam's 
 " business " speech had subsided, a song each all 
 round was proposed and given by the party before 
 breaking up. G. Tweedledum, of Tweedledee, who 
 had sat and fuisted like a wet log on a fire all evening, 
 suddenly burst forth into fitful flame and astonished 
 the coterie by blazing out with furious flicker and 
 flare and much gas into the following original ratt- 
 ling, ranting rhyme with a reason on : 
 
 "KECIPROCITY." 
 
 Hae ye ne'er heard o' the braw shepherd lad, 
 
 Wha wons 'wa' doun n'ar the sea, 
 An' has whittled a rung, a' oor cares to blaud 
 Ca'd Res-e-pros-e-tee ? 
 
 "Just" Res-e-pros-e-tee, 
 " Fair" Res-e-pros-e-tee ! 
 He'll cudgel the croons o' the foreign loons 
 Wi' Res-e-pros-e-tee !
 
 190 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 This shepherd bold is a discreet lad, 
 
 And ane cunning carle is he ! 
 Sae he has been kuitlin', sin' times grew bad, 
 
 At Res-e-pros-e-tee. 
 
 " Just " Res-e-pros-e-tee, &c. 
 
 Gin Jonathan tax a' oor kirns an' clouts, 
 Why should his wheat come free 1 
 
 " Gie him tit for tat," the shepherd he shouts, 
 Wi' Kes-e-pros-e-tee ! 
 
 " Just " Res-e-pros-e-tee, &c. 
 
 After the dispersion of the happy party, Sam and I, 
 T. P., arrived home all safe, but very cold, at the com- 
 paratively early hour of eleven. 
 
 A "KIRSENIN." 
 
 " The great world's heart is frank an' free ! 
 
 Sae of her bairns I vow, man, yet, 
 Her sang is aye ' 0' a' I hae, 
 
 I dearest prize my ploughman yet ! ' " 
 
 The other day, whilst leisurely and contemplatively 
 examining the western or lee side of a dark-brown 
 russet hawthorn hedge, which runs by the venerable 
 ruins of a steading, called, not inappropriately, " Blae- 
 braes," who should come up at a swinging pace but 
 our gentleman-like smart post-runner, and, with a 
 deferential salutation, hand me through a " slap " 
 with the grace and air of a Beau Brummel my copy 
 of our Edinburgh daily, some half score business 
 letters, and another and uncommon-looking document, 
 addressed thus : 
 
 " Mir tomis Pintele 
 
 fermir Blabrase by Hadinton 
 in h^aist." 
 
 After hastily scanning the various other epistles and 
 the summary of the daily, I, with piqued curiosity, 
 and nervous tremor and alacrity, at last tore open
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 191 
 
 the extraordinary despatch of my original corres- 
 pondent, and read exactly as follows. (I transcribe 
 the letter literally verbatim, only helping the punc- 
 tuation a little, in order that it may be more readily 
 understood) : 
 
 " Ledyslove, the 29t Auprile of 1881 the 
 eer or our Lord. 
 
 " DEER SIR doo yoo minde ov wan olde servint of 
 yoors cald Saunders Tomsin ? Au im him, vera olde 
 noo, a wnd vera bad with the Eoomatiks. but beein 
 a Good skolir, aw reed al the paipers, likewise the 
 Kurrir evry wick seein the Cronikles hit evry uther 
 f rid ay. sam is a drol felly, en so iz yoor oncelf on the 
 sli ! Non ov the neebors wood tack pen in hand too 
 rite to yoo mir Pintil, beekuz not wan or thim kin 
 speke good Ingglish bit Mee ! aun I lairnt longe sine, 
 as burns sase, with joopitir, a klevur maun, hoo maid 
 hiz bred bee teetchin barnes it the Aiby, eftir hee 
 coodint kepe a tol howce beekause hee coodint geat 
 wan ! aw wuz hees best skolir, and hee alwase sent 
 mee for hiz Snuff, klaping mee on the hed an sayin', 
 whun I kame bak ' Good boa, Saunders ; klevir 
 boa, indede ! bring een the kols now, Saunders ! ' 
 What iz larnt in the flowry dase ov yore wee seldim 
 iorgett so olde Saunders is stsel a rale gode ing- 
 glisher, illtho aboove setxy noo, en kin rite or speke 
 too ainybody nae maiter hoo nae maiter hoo ! 
 Yool mind mee, mir pintul, aw wuz yoor forzmin the 
 i'urst eer, twunty eers bigon, yoo forsuck the skool- 
 maister tred, en took up inhabitashin it blaybraise. 
 Au sode the dookit Park that eer with ma 2 hands, 
 eet wuz ots. The neebirs heer au wants yoo en sam 
 to kum en Bee prazsint it the Kirsinin' ov ma Sun-in- 
 law's barin on friday furst, at nite at seevon o'klock. 
 eets too hee a grand kirsteuin, awnd eets too bee 
 caled efter Samil, beekiz its no a lawsy, en Jamie 
 thawts mi Sun-in-law a rale tine fally, awnd a 
 onkomin grand plowman, hiz an awfy wark wee 
 Samil ! hee Stapit our too Clovir-rigs yestreen en axt
 
 192 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Muklebakit, en hee's too kum ! aw dout no what 
 weeldoo, bit the men heer al deeklare heel no want 
 a good soup ov wariin tody, awnd evry wan eetch hiz 
 geen a sixspinse a peece too purvide sum. thay thot 
 the thing wadny bee komplete weethowt yoo, so they 
 maid Mee prornish on the bit too rite this letir en 
 ceevylies ax yoo. the Ministir is till Arive on the 
 Ceen it seeven, soe you shood leev blaybraize about 
 Seex say a leetul eftir Seex. Au hop yu en Nany 
 0, ez Sam cals er, iz well, as this leeves Mee at praz- 
 sint in gud helth, en note fasht wee the Roomaticks ! 
 Adjoo, fairweel, til friday ! your afexshionate olde 
 forzman, " SAUNDERS TOMSIN." 
 
 Racking my brains, and turning over and ransack- 
 ing the leaves of that wonderful volume called 
 memory, I at length, after a half-hour's anxious and 
 exhausting scrutiny, came upon the undoubted remini 
 scence of the sapient " Saunders," my quondam first 
 ploughman about twenty years ago. At the first 
 glance, his unique photograph was recognised, and E 
 beheld, vividly and graphically pourtrayed in my 
 mental album, the likeness and lineaments, moral and 
 physical, of the rare old fellow when he was last seen 
 in the body by me, and when he was in the prime of 
 his days and his strength. " Saunders Tomsin " is 
 neither a true nor a fair specimen of the general 
 Scottish ploughman of the present generation, who is 
 often a man of considerable information, liberal and 
 extended views, and very often, in fact, the owner of 
 an intellect capable of vigorous and original thought 
 but I think I am perfectly justified in presenting 
 him in the " Chronicles " as the prototype of an 
 assuredly not yet extinct class, or section of a class. 
 " Saunders," then, in his hey-day, was a stalwart, 
 sturdy, hard-working, most honest, and most trust- 
 worthy servant, whose harhiless, and yet most amusing, 
 mental idiosyncrasy was a deep-grounded belief in his 
 own mighty importance and transcendent capacity 
 and wisdom. Pompous, officious, and consequential
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 1 93 
 
 to a fault, he looked down upon his non-reading 
 fellow-labourers as objects only worthy of his pity, 
 and so communed with them and treated them after 
 the mode and manner of a huge turkey cock amidst 
 a mixed flock of barnyard fowls and gutter ducks. 
 Consequently, he jarred and clashed inharmoniously 
 with all the bolder spirits amongst his fellow-work- 
 men, by some of whom he used often to be angrily 
 and impatiently commanded to proceed hurriedly to 
 an unnameable region, as a confounded old humbug 
 and meddling jackass, &c. However, as his psycho- 
 logical peculiarity was really to his neighbours far 
 more amusing than hurtful, or even disagreeably 
 arrogant, Saunders was never to any of them, for any 
 length of time, an object of resentment or repugnance, 
 but rather, indeed, the reverse. Being extremely 
 and strangely ambitious of being accounted the most 
 learned man and the " best skolir " on the farm, 
 nothing elevated him higher and pleased him more 
 than to be asked by a neighbour to write a letter for 
 him to send away to some friend. A whole night a 
 long, glorious, undisturbed night for this momentous 
 literary performance must be specially and solemnly 
 named and set apart all alone by itself ! At the 
 appointed hour, true to a second, Saunders would 
 appear, furnished for the fray with his own ink-bottle, 
 ready-made goose quill, and budget of blotting paper 
 in hand. Having planned and set the table in the 
 best position for light, wiped it carefully with his 
 sleeve, and placed a chair near it for his own use, he 
 would then gravely and magisterially seat himself 
 down thereon, and then most likely for the first 
 time since his entrance, and discarding for the nonce 
 the use of his everyday vulgar " Sketch " maguilo- 
 quently address his poor friend (no better, and as 
 " igirant as a haythin " in the estimation of the 
 pedantic "forzman") in his characteristic fashion. 
 The " letter " in all likelihood merely a simple note 
 of half-a-dozen sentences upon the most ordinary of 
 matters would be produced and finished after no 
 
 N
 
 194 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 less than a couple of hours of groaning and twisting 
 and violent labour and sweating, at once as a master- 
 piece of caligraphy, orthography, and composition ! 
 
 After spelling my way with painful difficulty a 
 second time through his present epistolary effort to 
 myself, I instantly determined to accept the invitation 
 therein contained, and to walk over to Leddyslove on 
 the evening in question. The evening, when it came, 
 proved a most charming one, so different, so altered 
 in every way from those we had been experiencing 
 for the last six or seven months ! As I quietly 
 slipped my moorings from Blaebraes and Agnes, and 
 venturously steered my daring course out into the 
 wide and open country, lo ! the great, red, setting 
 sun was a-glow and broadened out into first magni- 
 tude and fullest majesty right a-top the hill of Garle- 
 ton. From him were thrust out long horizontal 
 finger-like shafts of gleaming, trembling crimson, 
 which shimmered like beams of Heaven's own light 
 divine athwart the plain, till they touched and clothed 
 with a golden haze of the most bewildering beauty, 
 the green grassy slopes and dark rocky abutments 
 of the huge dome of Traprain ! I stood entranced 
 what a spectacle ! As a mere dot, and yet an inscrut- 
 able mystery to myself, I stood upon the summit of a 
 little knoll, as it were the very centre of the un- 
 wordable awfulness and sublimity of this illimitable 
 universe, whilst the old, old unanswerable questions 
 " how ? why ? where 1 whence ? and whither 1 " 
 passed in the usual way across my mind, and left it 
 as much at sea as ever ; and then bowed my grey head 
 in humble adoration and worship. A shower had 
 fallen during the afternoon, and moistened and 
 refreshed all nature enchantingly. In the little dingle 
 or "shaw" at the Dean burn, three enraptured and 
 poetical Scottish nightingales, or mavises, like visit- 
 ants fresh from Paradise, all perched on the topmost 
 sprigs of the three tallest firs in the glen, strained to 
 the utmost stretch their bonnie speckled throats as if 
 vying with each other who should sing the loudest
 
 COUNTRY CHR ONICLES. l 95 
 
 and the sweetest; but if I should die, I, T. P., could 
 not decide, albeit I stood and listened to them in a 
 trance of love and gratitude for fully a quarter of an 
 hour ! Ye Powers melodious, on either side the sky, 
 oh ! for once combine ! and ensure Auld Scotland 
 evermore, her ain dear, grey, bonnie divine mavis ! 
 The adult brute who, out of Bedlam, would deliber- 
 ately dare lay the tip of one murderous little finger 
 against a hair of even a tail feather of this sacred 
 Scottish songster, is a stolid " timmer-tuned " Kihilist 
 and traitor to the esthetic, sweetest, and most heaven- 
 izing influences of his country, and should make 
 acquaintance with one " Marwood " and a nine feet 
 drop, long before another spring ! I trust and abide 
 in faith that he shall ! The wheat and young grass 
 passed in my walk were all looking well, although 
 backward, considering the date ; and the spring corn 
 was gleaming and shooting up and showing the spiky, 
 tiny braird charmingly and promisingly. As I 
 stepped the stile and passed into the " entry " of old 
 Leddyslove, my heart overflowed with speechless grati- 
 tude to the Author of Nature, and I already blessed 
 the day and the hour in which my resolution was first 
 taken to be present at the christening of the grand- 
 child of Sannders Thomson. Arrived at the western 
 end of the long row of red-roofed erections, which 
 comprise the ploughman and cottars' cottages of 
 Leddyslove, I enquired of a sedate, fat-cheeked, bare- 
 footed urchin of about ten summers, and of the male 
 sex, who was dozing a peerie with the gravity and air 
 of an embryo statesman, close by the western gavel of 
 the house, if he could direct me to the habitation of 
 Jamie Horsman, the "suninlaw" of Saunders Tamson] 
 At my question, the young wonder coolly winked, 
 nodded his elf-locked head, wounded up his top-cord, 
 pouched his toy, and urged me laconically to accom- 
 pany him with a beck and a shout, thus " Here it's ! 
 yont here, sir ! " and immediately trotted off before 
 me to point out where. The residence this year of 
 Jamie Horsman I found to be the middle domicile
 
 196 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 of the " lang raw " of Leddyslove. In and out of the 
 only outside door of the dwelling, as I approached, 
 flitted several smirking queans maids and matrons 
 all in field gear and grandeur of bright ribbons and 
 clean caps and aprons, one of whom, seeing my dis- 
 inclination to enter unannounced, cried from the 
 interior, familiarly " Come in dicht yer feet an' 
 come in ! Nae ceremony we're a' John Tamson's 
 bairns here ! come in, Mr Pintail ! " Obeying these 
 homely and well-meant injunctions, I did pass in, and 
 was taken in tow and ushered by the damsel (their 
 mother) along a flag-paved passage and into an apart- 
 ment, the " ben end," or, more commonly, the " room " 
 of this poor man's castle, wherein I found already 
 assembled quite a company, in which I recognised not 
 a few of my most respected friends and acquaintances 
 to wit, Mr Tarn Blackie, master- smith, Old Metal ; 
 Mr D. Carter, carrier, Tynetoun ; Mr Will and Mrs 
 Jenny Bowfur, Staney-brae ; Mr Dick Twaddle, road- 
 man ; Miss Liza Curly, domestic servant; Misses Bell, 
 M'Bicker, and M'Gandy, bothy-women, &c., &c. On 
 the " big chair " by the fire-place, sat crouched up 
 " twafald," yet most contented looking, the venerable 
 patriarch of the family, the indomitable Saunders 
 himself, his " lyart haffets wearing thin and bare," 
 his eye winking and watery, and his whole aspect 
 and outer-man bearing and exhibiting innumerable 
 and certain signs and symptoms of fast approaching 
 fatal decay. The " room " was a plain plastered and 
 papered, white deal-floored and one-windowed cham- 
 ber, of the usual order in ploughmen's dwellings in 
 these times, of some eighteen by twelve feet. It 
 was furnitured, furnished, and ornamented also much 
 in the general fashion, with a print-curtained " tent " 
 bed, having a wondrous Joseph-coat counterpane, made 
 of numberless little squares of different patterned 
 print-cloth, deftly and neatly stitched together ; a 
 large mahogany-framed " echt-day " clock, a long 
 table, be-draped with the whitest of white, and 
 enriched and islanded with two full bottles and a
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 197 
 
 few glasses, and plates heaped high with scones and 
 cheese, cut up into ready whangs ; half a score of sub- 
 stantial black-birk chairs, and a beautiful, black- 
 leaded, shining Carron hob-grate in the " chimley." 
 The four walls were decorated and emblazoned with 
 a variety of startling wood-prints, cut from illustrated 
 calendars, penny dreadf'ulls, and " Police News," 
 a few in frames, not always a perfect " fit," others, the 
 major part, simply tacked, or battered, unglazed and 
 unprotected, upon the papered plaster. From roof to 
 ceiling, and from doorstep to hearthstone, all and every 
 one inch and object and article appeared as if scrubbed 
 and scoured and swept to its brightest, and was 
 scrupulously sweet and clean, and spoke volumes for 
 the activity, handiness, and even love of the young 
 house-wife, at the baptism of whose second-born we 
 had all congregated to witness and assist in. 
 
 I had scarcely taken seat and begun an auld-warld 
 crack with Saunders, when in who should stalk but 
 the jolly, beaming Hootsman, the " maister," with 
 nobody else, arm in arm, than the momentous and 
 massive Mucklebackit himself ! On all the faces 
 round, as the sad and serious, yet smiling, Sam strode 
 forward, a slumbering jackass, gorged with weeds and 
 nettles, could have marked a grin of the broadest a 
 recognition a sunny-like blush or smile of the heartiest 
 regard and satisfaction. With one accord they all 
 arose and clustered and clung around him, and scanned 
 him with the fixed ecstatic eyes of devotees ! On the 
 visage of their hero, sunshined for a moment, an 
 unforgetable answering smile ; but this was directly 
 overclouded by a shade of solemn seriousness as he 
 sat down and cried anxiously " Mrs Horsman Jean! 
 where 's the wee thing ? Bring him ben I want to 
 look at him bring in young Sam, Jean, I say ! " In 
 a jerk, Jean was in the room with an armful of white 
 robes, tippets, and pelisses, and presenting them all 
 with a low curtsey to the eerie looking and dumb- 
 foundered Mucklebackit, who stood up and gazed 
 long and amazedly at the wee, white, butter-ball-looking
 
 198 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 dot of humanity, whilst soliloquising abstractedly at 
 intervals thus : " That 's him is't ? Eh young Sam 
 Samuel the Second ! may he realise a thousand part 
 of what the first could only dream o' ! That 's young 
 Sam ! Eh, weel, weel ! blessings, ceaseless blessings 
 on his bonnie wee broo, sae brent, sae braid, an' sae 
 bulgy. His pap o' a wee mooth is his mither r s, a' the 
 rest stares the daddy in the face. I'll stand by him 
 I will ! " 
 
 From all the adjacent, and even distant, farms, in 
 single parties, or in groups of twos and threes, 
 the swelling company was augmented until even the 
 kitchen passage and pantry were crowded. To each 
 and all on arrival, a " glass " and a whang of flour 
 scones and cheese were proffered, and generally merrily 
 accepted. A younker or two were visible in the party, 
 but mostly the multitude was composed of human 
 units and specimens on the shady side of five-and- 
 twenty. The decorum and demeanour of the country 
 people startled and surprised me. In my time, and 
 not so long ago, the manner and behaviour of such a 
 large gathering of our farm folk would have shocked 
 and put to the blush the sense of propriety and refine- 
 ment of an Esquimaux. Now, happily, this was all 
 revolutionised, and the ruddy sons and daughters of 
 the soil conducted themselves very like ordinary 
 humanity escaped recently from the savage state. 
 The toggery of them all, too, was faultless or at 
 least fashionable and all their skins visible seemed 
 to have been blessed at no distant date with a touch 
 of soap and water. In the core, although necessarily 
 coarse, were some samples of the animal man, which 
 were a joy to look upon. Intellectually, too, I watched 
 and took note of not a few heads, which could any 
 day serve as the most fit and approved models, to an 
 artist, of mute inglorious Miltons albeit, I must say, 
 the great bulk of the " physiogs " presented " casts " 
 expressive rather of push, worldly wisdom, and 
 altogether earthly aspirations. The feminine portion
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 199 
 
 of the flock exhibited representatives of all classes of 
 the rural she gender. The fat, white faced, motherly 
 kind-heart ; the saddened, yet smiling middle-aged wife ; 
 and the smirking, laughing, glancing-from-beneath- 
 eyelashes lassie smooth, "blushing, and bonnie 
 were all there in their fullest feathers. About a 
 quarter of an hour only after the appointed time, 
 the minister arrived upon the " sceen " as that 
 learned luminary and occult student of calendars, 
 "Saunders Tomsin," would say. And not only the 
 minister, but, indeed, the ministers, for it appeared 
 that the reverend Mr Thos. Lovall happened to 
 be visited by a clerical friend on the baptismal evening, 
 and this brother black-coat, the undoubtedly sedate, 
 if not most reverend, Mr Eichard Calvin Screechlaw 
 of Cauldkirk, had accompanied him. The first-named 
 ecclesiastic is a single saint of about thirty : tall, but 
 agile, and having the lean look of an ash tree, with 
 wild staring eyeholes, as wide and as weird as those 
 which a man on Hallowe'en could conceive. The 
 leading feature of this disciple is earnest devotion and 
 love for " fallen man " stretched to an agony. His 
 companion, Mr Screechlaw, is a gentleman or an 
 individual of another character and complexion 
 quite. Lovall is Paul-like "broad church;" while 
 Screechlaw is self-contained as a gate post hollow, 
 bark and skin entirely, and sticking where he sticks, 
 because the " gate post " before him stuck where it 
 stuck ! His father was a Charles the Second Coven- 
 anter, therefore he is one too ! The dogmatical " five 
 points " of Calvin are to him as the five fingers of the 
 hand which alone can draw ajar the gate of heaven to 
 predestined entrants ! All who swerve therefrom 
 swerve to the left ! Socially and politically being as 
 he is in his fine manse and fat glebe securely and com- 
 fortably established for this world he is a Tory of 
 the bluest type, and truly an inflexible maintainer of 
 the whole existing order of things. By the shrewdest 
 amongst his parishioners he is rated for what he 
 is worth to a nicety; but these observers through-
 
 200 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 out all the bounds of his wide domain may be 
 reckoned by the fingers of one hand, and so the self- 
 esteemed ! " saint " is permitted to run his course un- 
 molested." 
 
 After shaking hands with the chiefs and the chief- 
 tainesses all round, the two " Mess Johns " slipped 
 into the chairs offered, the junior the while asking 
 Mrs Horsman to favour him with a Bible. At this 
 point of the interesting proceedings, the cot-house 
 may be said to have been literally packed to over- 
 flowing with an audience made up of all sorts of 
 country people, barring the landed proprietor class. 
 Whether it were owing to the universally high respect 
 in which Jamie Horsman, as a prize ploughman, and 
 as a quiet, kindly, and obliging neighbour is held, or 
 to the presence of Mucklebackit, Hootsman, and 
 T. P., I know not; but sure I am that a more 
 numerous, and at the same time a more intelligent and 
 physically better-looking and better-dressed company 
 of country folks, has not been witnessed in East Lothian 
 during my time. And, again I repeat, it was curious, 
 in fact absolutely astounding, to note the correct and 
 respectful demeanour of one and all of the people. 
 Not a sign, not a feature in any single individual of 
 the extraordinary assemblage could even by a Vic- 
 torian courtier-^have reasonably been found fault with 
 as vulgar or in bad taste. Mr Lovall having given 
 out and read a portion of the ninth of Romans, and 
 most lucidly and forcibly expounded it, the kernel of 
 the grand ceremony of the evening was caught sight 
 of and reached, when, after a beautiful and appropriate 
 prayer had been offered up, Mrs Horsmau abruptly 
 made entrance into the " spence" with the precious 
 babe to be operated upon, enfolded like a seraph in a 
 cloud of bewildering white in her arms. When she 
 reached her gallant husband, she tenderly passed the 
 child to him, and then took her place by his side, 
 while he confronted the minister, and humbly, yet 
 manfully, held up his babe before God and the world, 
 as the proud yet deeply responsible earthly father and
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. . 201 
 
 guardian of its young existence. Young Sam never 
 uttered so much as a cheep, but bravely lay in his 
 daddy's arms and listened to the minister speaking, as 
 sensibly and as quietly as an old fat dozing magistrate 
 in his church pew of a warm summer Sabbath after- 
 noon. In sooth, the splendid behaviour of this re- 
 markable hero in swaddling bands and other unmen- 
 tionables was a matter of general comment and joyous 
 congratulations during the whole evening ; and I 
 believe that by some mysterious psychological sym- 
 pathy or mesmeric agency the wonderful darling really 
 knew that he was in the presence and under the 
 protecting wing of his all-sufficient godfather Sam 
 the First ! The entire company reverently erected 
 itself in a vertical and pious attitude during the ad- 
 ministration of the sacrament. Immediately after the 
 response, a hum, a hushed uncertain murmur, expres- 
 sive only of enthralling interest and profound attention, 
 winded through the room as the clergyman officiating 
 stepped forward, and, dipping the fingers of his right 
 hand in the baptismal fount a basin of the purest 
 spring water pronounced, as he sprinkled the face of 
 the wonderful infant with it, the name of " Samuel 
 Mucklebackit ! and may the Lord bless thee, Samuel, 
 and grant thou grow up and develop, and prove thy- 
 self, by-and-bye, a worthy owner and maintainer of 
 thy renowned name." " Mr Lovall," here broke out 
 Samuel the First, tousily awaking from, a reverie 
 " Mr Lovall, you are a trump card ; give me your 
 hand. Jamie Horsman approved himself when he 
 asked you to christen that pearl of Scotland his and 
 my young Sammy ! But see ! Mr Screechlaw, there, 
 is fidging-fu-fain an' shaking with eagerness, to say 
 something. Leddies and gentlemen, attention, if you 
 please, and let us hear what Mr Screechlaw has to 
 say ! " The Eeverend Mr Screechlaw raised hurriedly 
 the large fat shutters of his violet eyes at this bluff 
 appeal, yet immediately afterwards smiled exceedingly, 
 as if happy to embrace the opportunity which Sam's 
 words had occasioned, if not created. " My friends,"
 
 202 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 lugubriously began this stern advocate of effectual 
 calling, "my friends, we are all in a desperate dilemma ! 
 I desire to speak a word of admonition to the motley 
 crowd now foregathered within the walls and under 
 the roof-tree of this house the more so as happily in 
 such a large number there possibly may be one or two 
 of the elect. I find that among farm servants, as 
 among most other workfolk, a spirit of grumbling and 
 dissatisfaction with their worldly lot has arisen at the 
 present time. Now, this is wrong nay, against the 
 teaching of the Holy "Word, wherein all are enjoined 
 and commanded to submit quietly to whatever circum- 
 stances they are born into. What do you think you 
 are that you thus profanely breathe a murmur of dis- 
 content. To you it is given to till the earth" 
 
 " I beg pardon, reverend sir ! " wrathfully interrupted 
 Mucklebackit, abruptly jumping up in the midst of 
 the crowd like a huge jack-in-the-box. " I beg pardon, 
 but I cannot for the life of me sit quietly and hear rny 
 brother and sister toilers preached at in this fashion. 
 I don't dispute your strange theology have it all and 
 welcome ! I am much mistaken if a single individual 
 in the room desires to share one shaird of the least 
 essential^ doctrine of it with you. But away enoo wi' 
 a' wranglin' an' threepin ! Jean, bring me here a glass 
 o' Bernard's, an' to restore the company its guid 
 feelin' towards a' mankind, I'll e'en treat it to a toast 
 in the shape o' a sang that I scribbled aff the tither 
 morn : 
 
 THE PLOUGHMAN. 
 
 Drink a bumper to the ploughman, 
 
 Pledge him in a cup profound, 
 Toast him as our strong and true-man 
 With all honours, round and round ; 
 
 Here's the brawny, buirdly ploughman ! 
 Here's the world's breadwinner'true ! 
 Drink a beaker to the ploughman 
 To the dregs drink Speed the Plough !
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 203 
 
 II. 
 
 Thro' the bitter days of winter, 
 
 Cold and wet, he guides the share ; 
 
 Toiling on till night present her 
 Warm fireside and cottage fare 
 Here's the brawny, &c. 
 
 in. 
 
 In the wakening spring-time speeding, 
 
 What a priest in power is he ; 
 Striding forth the broad earth, seeding 
 
 That her children filled may be. 
 Here's the brawny, &c. 
 
 IV. 
 
 On thro' sweltry, scorching summer, 
 
 Never lagging, late and soon ; 
 Urging Nature heap her garner, 
 
 Like one gracious, princely boon ! 
 Here's the brawny, &c. 
 
 v. 
 
 Then he grasps the golden harvest, 
 
 Sweeps the wide fields at a word 
 'Till from happy east to far west 
 
 He the world with rowth has stored ! 
 
 Here's the brawny, buirdly ploughman ! 
 
 Pledge him in a cup profound 
 Toast him as our strong and true-man 
 With all honours round and round ! 
 
 Ere the long-resounding applause and hilarity 
 which, followed and rewarded Sam's " Ploughman's 
 Song " had subsided and toned down sufficiently to 
 enable a lusty brawler to hear his own voice, Mr 
 Screechlaw stood up and apologised, in a fawning 
 manner, "that he knew not Mr Mucklebackit of Clover- 
 riggs was present in the room he never having enjoyed 
 the high privilege of meeting Sam personally before.
 
 20d RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Now, however, that they had met, he (Screechlaw) 
 was shockingly sorry to think they had disagreed on 
 the all-important theme of theology. Correct doctri- 
 nal views on this grand subject he himself considered 
 to be of the most vital importance to every one. 
 Would Mr Mucklebackit say what he meant by his 
 
 (Screechlaw's) ' strange ' theology 1 He " 
 
 " I beg pardon, a second time (quoth Sam, annoy- 
 edly) for having to interrupt you, but I respectfully, 
 yet decidedly submit, Mr Screechlaw, that this room 
 is not to be converted to-night into a polemic bear- 
 garden. But really what I rose and objected to in 
 your remarks was not so much concerning your religious 
 opinions as against your provoking tone, and the way 
 in which you began to lecture us poor rustics upon 
 our social and other affairs. Can you actually and 
 seriously suppose that we are the fit ninnies and imbeciles 
 to be addressed in such a style 1 Because we maybe 
 cannot spell our blundering way with brain-racking 
 difficulty through an old book or two in a dead 
 language as one here and there of you presumably can, 
 do you really imagine that this confers upon you all, 
 or any of you, a right to stand up in broad day, and 
 preach at us in the combined manner of a dame 
 teacher to her Sunday-school children, and that of a 
 "West India planter to his black -a-moors 1 " " Stop, 
 stop, Mr Mucklebackit! " cried Mr Lovall, hysterically, 
 and shaking with laughter. " Stop, Sam ! Spare the 
 cloth. I am sure that Mr Screechlaw, whether or not he 
 be an offender, will seriously take your lesson to heart; 
 and for myself, as sure am I that I am more than delight- 
 ed to make one of such a large and such an exceedingly 
 respectable and intelligent company. Old Saunders 
 here is my especial friend ! Mr Thomson, how do you 
 feel in this charming weather 1 You have got quite 
 a congregation together to witness the baptism of your 
 grandson ! " " Deed ydu may say so, sir," returned 
 Old Saunders, grandiloquently, being considerably 
 higher uplifted than his common elevation by the 
 general notice which was being taken of him " deed,
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 205 
 
 weel you may say so, Maister Lovell ! An' I'm moril 
 sertin thit Jamie, my sun-in-law, di'deent inveet the 
 wan thoosant pairt on thim at a'. Bit 'e see it's neer 
 hand to the tairm noo, yoo no, aund the most feck of 
 thim ir awl goin' to a foy in the next houce, the next 
 liouce. Yes, yes ; eets too bee bekiz too lassies ir 
 leevin too awfy bootiful girl wunches indeed ! they 
 ir baith heer standing down thonder it the pasidge 
 doore." Here the poor broken-down old man received 
 from his daughter, Jean, the energetic gude-wife of 
 the house, a thorough shaking and fixing up in his big 
 chair, and a tumbler of well- watered nappy. " Mais- 
 ter Lovell aund maister Scraichly, yoor good helth ! 
 Samil, the same ! aw don't heer wel noo, bit yoor song 
 aboot the ploomin was weel hard yoor a grand lood 
 singir bit yoo stopit ower soon yoo shood iv sade a 
 vairce aboot the fine horce that draws the plough," &c., 
 &c. 
 
 Before the clericals left, Mr Lovall drank the health, 
 long life, and prosperity of young Sam, to which Sam 
 the elder felicitously replied in a speech which made 
 the sides of the multitude to ache and crack. In his 
 remarks, Mr Lovall took occasion to speak a word in 
 season on the advantages of matrimony, which sent at 
 once to ill-concealed giggling on one side of their heads 
 all the rosy maidens in the crowd, and made Hoots- 
 man cock up his ears, and smirk and blush like a 
 twenty -year-old. As usual, the jovial chieftain of 
 Leddyslove, with all his customary adroitness, had got 
 himself implanted deeply in a thicket of petticoats 
 and fair faces, where he stuck during the whole of 
 the ceremony, chattering and chaffing to this, or pinch- 
 ing the elbows of the other of his numerous feminine 
 supporters and apparent devotees. Could the optics 
 of a certain youthful Fairbairn at Bunkum Hall have 
 been suddenly opened, and directed to the lower end 
 of the room, how they would have stared ! eh, how 
 they would have stared ! 
 
 Immediately after the departure of the clergymen, 
 the uninvited portion of the party quietly betook
 
 206 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 itself hence also, and the residue, comprehending Sam 
 the First, Black, the smith ; Carter, the carrier; Hoots- 
 man, T. P., and one or two of Horsman's neighbours, 
 were asked to step butt to the kitchen and partake of 
 tea. This over, and on our resumption of our former 
 quarters in the "ben" apartment of the humble domi- 
 cile, Hootsman characteristically proposed that Eob 
 Clarty, one of the ploughmen present, should go for 
 his fiddle, and give us some of his reels and strath- 
 speys, for the yerking off of which Eob, it seems, is in 
 these parts a famous hand. But Jean, the clever, 
 " through-gaun," prudent gude-wife and loving mother, 
 objected strongly to this, as she asserted " wee Sammy 
 couldna abear ony whistle music looder than the sang 
 o' the tea-kettle, or the sleepy cur-mur o' the auld 
 gray poosie cat on the hearthstane." When Muckle- 
 backit heard this he instantly erected himself verti- 
 cally, and shouted with a touch of the despot in his 
 manner to the bold yeoman and jaunty lady-killer of 
 sixty-five summers " Hootsman ! no fiddling, I say ! 
 the tastes and distastes, the likings and dislikings of 
 young Sam shall be respected ! I say it and I'll 
 have it so sure ! But, perhaps, that pearl above 
 price, my cradled namesake, hath no objections to the 
 human voice divine. Hath he, Jean ?'' " Oh, no, 
 Mr Mucklebackit, nane whatsomever," quoth Jean, 
 " ye may a' sing bonnie Scots sangs til the roof-tree 
 leaves the riggin', an' the sweet baaby, wee totum, will 
 never cry wheesht !" " That signs an' shows, and 
 unmistakably forecasts true genius in a personage of 
 his years or, rather, weeks," rejoined the god-father, 
 happily " therefore, I conclude that the fiddle motion 
 is dropped, and that we all agree to have recourse to 
 that inimitable instrument the flute, pipe, or whistle, 
 or them a' in ane, to wit, that whilk is variously 
 termed the larynx, wind-pipe, gullet, throat, weason, 
 craig, thrapple, an' hau&e of the no-doubt unco crea- 
 ture ca'd man ! (Applause all round). Then Jean, 
 my dear, wha's turn is first 1 We'll a' be guided 
 by Jean !" " I'll answer for Jean, an ye please, Mr
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 207 
 
 Mucklebackit," unexpectedly sung out Jamie Hors- 
 man ; " baith Jean an' me are prood o' yer proposal, 
 an' Jean thinks an' I think, too, for that matter 
 that ye couldna do better than lead aff wi' a verse or 
 twa o' yer ain, Sam so, I beg to propose Mr Muckle- 
 backit for a song ! " " Jamie ! " quoth Sam, earnestly, 
 " that 's no' fair, ye ken weel hoo that I hae baith 
 sung an' speechifeed a'ready sae mickle, in trouth, 
 that I am e'en forjeskit an' sair hoarse an' roupit wi' 
 the tane an' the tithero' them. There's Pintail, noo, 
 the slee, auld meddlin', scribblin' busy-body, will sit 
 an' hear his best freend on earth grow hully an' 
 hairse, as a mootened hoody craw, an' never say 
 Sam, lat abee ! Ye auld spavined, stoiterin', cantank- 
 erous, doited rascal ye toorn guano bag ye yellow 
 weed ye discarded pillow-slip, I say ! hunkerin' 
 there in a corner, watchin' an' laughin' i' yer sleeve at 
 ane an' a' end up, I say, this moment, as bests ye 
 dow, an' yerk us atf a sang belyve, e'en though it be 
 ane o' your outrageous imbecile parodies ! Stand up ! 
 What ! do ye demur \ Shall I come an' heeze you 
 up? We a' ken that ye are nae laverock that gaes 
 'ithoot tellin' ! But, never mind, Tarn mas, come 
 awa', scramble upo' yer feet, an' just lilt or screech us 
 aff yer best for instance, the ane ye made last winter 
 when ' My Nannie, ' was awa' visiting her Em'bro 
 freend. 
 
 " Noo in her drab mantle sour Nature arrays, 
 
 And howls in the tempests that swoop ovvre the 
 
 braes, 
 
 While blasts bluster madly thro' ilka bleak shaw, 
 They mind me o' Nannie my Nan that 's awa ! 
 They mind me o' Nannie yea, Nan that 's awa ! " 
 
 By the main might of the mendacious Mucklebackit, 
 I was cruelly constrained to straddle up into the centre 
 of the chamber, and there made to stand up and 
 make a merry Andrew of myself by singing, or rather 
 shouting in a shrill tenor, cracked, and most excruci-
 
 ao8 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHED. 
 
 ating voice, the whole four verses of this most 
 nonsensical of parodies, a trifle which was written 
 only for an hour's diversion during a rather brief 
 absence of Mrs P. from Blaebraes. Mucklebackit, as 
 soon as I had started, coggled himself backward on 
 the hinder feet of his chair, enjoying me with a face 
 as vast and as ruddy as the harvest moon, and shaking 
 with half-suppressed glee. At the end of every verse, 
 he joined in the repeated line, and frantically yelled 
 more than in tune, and with the vigour of a 
 hurricane 
 
 " They mind me o' Nannie yea, Nan that's awa ! " 
 
 After my escape, Hootsman was next clapped in the 
 stocks by the same authority ; but, unlike me, he there 
 exhibited his many really admirable personal and social 
 qualities to perfection, by rendering in his own unique 
 and splendid style that is, with a truthfulness, birr, 
 and eclat which were simply irresistible, and which 
 would have swept away any amount of censorious 
 criticism as easily and as cleanly as Tyne in spate does 
 a byke of angry, buzzing wasps upon her banks the 
 humorous and sarcastic song of Sam's about the 
 "Death of Red Rob," i.e., the American cooked 
 "beef." 
 
 At this stage, the majority of the assembly adjourned 
 for a short space out of doors, and I had afforded me a 
 long-wished-for opportunity of having a quiet and 
 private confab with our host James Horsman, the 
 famous prize-ploughman of Leddyslove. " Jamie," 
 who is a capital, and a stalwart, and a sturdy specimen 
 of the best class of our East Lothian hinds, is a man 
 who has all the usual diffidence and shyness peculiar 
 to individuals of his order when confronting one in a 
 higher social position ; and so I found him, at first, 
 " sweer to draw." By an exercise of patience, and a 
 little diplomatic policy, however, I soon had him on 
 speaking and equal terms with myself. I discovered 
 him to be a fellow 9f strong and vigorous character 
 and every feature and faculty of his large, albeit rough
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 209 
 
 and rude nature, bore the all-glorious and irrefragable 
 impress of genuineness. We cracked much about 
 horses and ploughing, and various other rural affairs, 
 for a time, and then imperceptibly slid into the subject 
 of the Farmers' Club, and the themes of its recent dis- 
 cussion. Horsman made a suggestion with regard to 
 the " making " of turnips, which I think worthy of 
 being noted, the more so as Sam has since informed 
 me that the same idea has occurred to himself; but 
 whether it prove ultimately a valuable one, of course, 
 remains to be seen. The " Prize Ploughman " thinks 
 it would be an excellent plan to prepare the land 
 and have the drills all made up some weeks 
 prior to the proper sowing season, say about the 
 middle of April, and when the right time for sowing 
 arrived, to slightly harrow the drills down, and reform 
 them with a double moulded plough immediately 
 before sowing. He conceives that this mode of turnip 
 cultivation would afford far greater security against 
 subsequent summer "drooth" and its invariable 
 accompaniment, the fly pest. Of course, this method 
 would not be practicable in every instance, where the 
 land was foul, or where the other processes of the 
 farm were in arrear ; but I think it eminently worthy 
 of at least a trial by some or other of our agricultural 
 experimentalists ; and I venture here to predict the 
 attainment, in a year or two, of its complete success. 
 
 On the re-assembling of the party, after the brief 
 adjournment, all of us who were strangers were intro- 
 duced by " Jean " to a somewhat remarkable sample 
 of the petticoated half of mankind a Miss Jenny 
 Birdie, a sister of one of Horsman's neighbours, and a 
 spinster considerably on the mirky sphere of thirty 
 summers, and winters also. Miss Jenny has acquired 
 some reputation in the district as an original rural 
 poet, and a still greater celebrity as an uncompromis- 
 ing advocate of the "rights" of labouring men's 
 wives and wenches, and as a voluble and a matchless 
 speaker of the native doric the only language that 
 this she-oracle deigns to use. Mucklebackit started
 
 210 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 her on her favourite theme, and she tackled to it with 
 a brilliancy and copiousness in the " braid Scotch " 
 which I never before have heard even approached to 
 in purity, fulness, perspicuity, and expressiveness. I 
 am sorry that the limits of this "Chronicle" will not 
 permit me to give my ten thousand readers a swatch 
 of this high-gifted maiden's conversation ; but she 
 and they (my countless readers) will assuredly 
 encounter again. Before the " Kirsenin' " party dis- 
 persed, this inspired goddess was induced by Sam to 
 sing us one of her own rhymes a sort of parody, afar 
 off, of " Is there for honest poverty," and she proved 
 to us all that her vocal powers were only secondary in 
 excellence to her elocutionary ones. As her song 
 really possesses some modicum of originality, and 
 smacks strongly of the soil, I give some specimen 
 stanzas. 
 
 A MAID'S A MAID FOR A' THAT. 
 
 They wha on earth are from their birth 
 
 Deemed " ladies fine," and a' that, 
 The country lass they'll slichtly pass, 
 
 An she were dirt and a' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their trogs and trains, and a' that ; 
 The cottage maiden, in her blume, 
 
 Is grander dight, than a' that ! 
 
 To feign an' flirt, to pout an' play, 
 
 And lisp like babes, and a' that ; 
 Gude faith, we haena learnt the way 
 
 Nor downa t^ink to fa' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their braw, braw balls, and a' that, 
 The lo'esome lassie, with her Jo, 
 
 Can smile supreme at a' that !
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 211 
 
 Then, nae exchange ! your lives live ye ; 
 
 Gaunt, geek, an' girn, and a' that ; 
 But dinna toss that pride sae hie 
 
 My sooth ! it's we should shaw that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that ; 
 
 Your menzies, " balls," and a' that ; 
 Row't in her plaid, the humble maid 
 
 Is man's true queen, for a' that ! 
 
 After drinking a right hearty wullie-waught, and 
 singing together the entire deathless " Auld Lang 
 Syne," we all shook hands with each other, and 
 directly afterwards betook us to our several scattered 
 homes each and every one of us, I know and believe, 
 doing so as happier and more loyal members and 
 children of Auld Caledonia for the glorious evening 
 we had enjoyed. T. P. 
 
 TRAPRAIN LAW VISITED. 
 
 11 Hail ! venerable, ample, steadfast friend 
 
 Dear as mother's form is thine to me ! 
 So, as a child might, at thy foot I bend 
 
 To pour this lay of filial love to thee. 
 Thou wast the wonder of mine infancy, 
 
 And, tho' in youth afar I drifted hence, 
 Again though art my sacred mount to be 
 
 Mine own Parnassus whose high grottos whence 
 The mature muse may sweep the Universe immense!" 
 
 BETWEEN my place, Blaebraes, and the residence of my 
 famous friend Mucklebackit at Clover Riggs, stretches 
 only the distance of about a mile and a bittock of 
 green fields and turnip-fly and wood-pigeon pastures. 
 These fields and well-stocked pastures I often tra- 
 verse, albeit I am now an old and a feeble man having 
 my own cares, being impelled by pure admiration, 
 love, and respect for Mr Mucklebackit to visit him 
 three, four, or half-a-dozen times a week, in order to
 
 212 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 taste a glass of toddy, and discuss politics and potatoes, 
 or theology and sheep markets, with him. The other 
 evening, after an exceedingly hot, mixed-up debate on 
 Church Union and the Franco-German War questions, 
 in which, I am sorry to say, Mucklebacldt demon- 
 stratively proved himself to be, respectively, no dupe 
 of Begg's and Bismarck's, I was at once dumbfoundered 
 and electrified by my strange friend bringing the 
 wordy war abruptly to a close by leaping hurriedly 
 to his feet, striking the table a blacksmith's blow with 
 his clenched fist, then clapping me on the shoulder, 
 and exclaiming, like an inspired prophet in a land fast 
 going to the dogs " Tarn ! auld Tarn ! what say ye 
 to a trip to the Law o' Traprain the morn's morning 1 
 We'll tak' shanks nagie for't, an' set aff betimes say 
 four o'clock and if we don't make a right wild, 
 romantic, jocular field-day of it rack and confound 
 me with a nine weeks' joust of lumbago ! " Having 
 got all my turnips sown for the wood pigeons and the 
 fly, I agreed to go, besides, I was not, to tell the 
 truth, at all satisfied with the position he maintained 
 in our debate on the great war question; and I 
 shrewdly divined that our jaunt would afford me ex- 
 cellent opportunity, if taken in the tide, to cautiously 
 " snoove " alongside his great hulk, grapple him, and 
 then victoriously tow him, like the Longniddry whale, 
 into the Broom ielaw of truth and my own common- 
 sense conviction. Consequently, on the stroke of 
 four the next morning, I arrived, staff in hand, at our 
 trysting-place over the keystone of the little bridge 
 which conducts carts and passengers over the little 
 wimpling burn, that shimmers away, like the days 
 that are no more, through the woods to meet the Tyne 
 midway betwixt our two places. I had not long to 
 wait. I was moralising on, and listening to, en- 
 ravished, the song of th,e first morning lark, when my 
 ear was wonderingly and painfully arrested by the 
 gross notes of the song of a bird of quite another 
 feather and pipe ; and, looking over the hedge, I be- 
 held Samuel himself rapidly advancing, singing, like a
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. z 1 3 
 
 carter at his loudest, an extempore rhyme to the tune 
 of " Bonnie Dundee," of which the following verse is 
 a sample : 
 
 " It may shine, it may rain, it may snaw, faith, for me 
 Let your ' Auld Stagers ' grumble / carena a flee ; 
 Secure in his poortith, Sam looks at it a', 
 Wi' a sang or a joke for whate'er may befa' !" 
 
 It should be remembered that the day of our trip Avas 
 one of those near the blessed end of a late " terrible 
 drouth ; " but I more than doubt if the sentiment ex- 
 pressed in the first dause of the verse was from his 
 heart, albeit I conscientiously entertain no misgivings 
 as to his disposition and ability to make good the last 
 distich to sing a song or crack a joke upon whatever, 
 in the providence of God, may happen this earth of 
 ours, provided only he be left breath and time to do it. 
 As he approached, still singing, I understood, after the 
 first glance I had of his face, that he felt very jovial, 
 and was in every way in splendid trim. " Good 
 morning, Thomas," said he, as he shook me warmly 
 by the hand, and scratched his tremendous, whiii-bush- 
 like head ; " Good morning, Thomas de Pintail, not 
 the Scotch opium eater, I trust, but the living retired 
 dominie farmer the generalissimo of shreds and fag 
 ends of syntax and a snuff mull, renowned for his 
 innocence of all puerile theologic controversy ! Tarn, 
 hoo's a' wi' ye 1 Fine morning ? " As] he observed 
 that he had made me a little uneasy by this undigni- 
 fied salutation, he hurriedly continued " Mr Pintail, 
 never mind me ! I am beside and above myself this 
 fine morning. The barometer fell a full sixteenth of 
 an inch last night f If the fly pleases, we'll have 
 turnips yet ! Turnips yet ! think of that ! Never 
 mind the hay ! blast the wheat ! turnips yet ! the 
 glass is falling ! turnips, turnips, turnips yet ! 
 Jehoshaphat !" So shouting at the top of his voice, 
 he caught hold of me by the two arms, arid swung me 
 like a girl into the middle of the roadway, and, as I
 
 214 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 was myself overjoyed with the blessed tidings of the 
 falling barometer, we, indeed, then and there, old 
 stagers as we both are, tackled to, and like two veri- 
 table male " Cutty Sarks," danced a spring for a good 
 half hour as a welcome for the long-wished-for rain. 
 
 As we approached " Dumpander," we were joined 
 from a side road by a strolling son of St Crispin, all 
 the Avay from Paisley upon tramp. He was a stout, 
 brawny, well-clad youth, about five-and-twenty, with 
 reddish curling hair, and a somewhat fierce but intelli- 
 gent eye. Somehow, he seemed to take Sam's fancy, 
 and the two started, sans ceremony, a hand-in-hand 
 chat, which all of a sudden drifted into an eager de- 
 bate upon " Secularism " and Christianity ; for this 
 brother of the awl, little wotting of the champion to 
 whom he made the presumptuous avowal, boldly 
 averred that he was no " believer." He seemed to be 
 pretty well informed, especially in the physical 
 sciences, and had apparently read much on his side of 
 the question tinder discussion ; but alike in ideas, in- 
 formation, and language, he was but as a sparrow in 
 the clutches of a ger-falcon when opposed to Muckle- 
 backit. From stronghold to stronghold, over the 
 enemy's own fields, did Sam admirably pursue and 
 sustain the fight, until his crowning victory eventu- 
 ated in the fortress of David Hume upon the miracles. 
 "Miracles, so called," quoth this daring shoemaker, 
 " are erroneous. Hume has proved them to be so. 
 No living man ever saw a miracle performed; but 
 how many lies are told even during the short period 
 of a man's life 1 Is it not, then, more reasonable to 
 believe that the story of Christ's miracles is false, than 
 to credit the astounding assertion that the immutable 
 laws and forces of Nature were broken and arrested, 
 that a blind man might see, a poor woman recover 
 her son, and a cripple to walk soundly ? " Muckle- 
 backit (calmly) " My friend, you ought not to heed 
 overmuch what was proved and disproved by David 
 Hume. Hume was a mighty thinker, and a great 
 philosopher. He had his place. But what shall be
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 215 
 
 proved as clear as noon-day by one philosopher, may 
 by his successor be as clearly proved to be as the 
 chimera of a visionary. Read the Scriptures for your- 
 self, and humbly pray for an understanding heart. 
 Well, what do the Scriptures say about Christ ? You 
 will find that, among other things, they declare that 
 Christ was as God, equal in power, &c. Mark this, 
 they do not in His case record the sayings and deeds 
 of an ordinary mortal man. If Christ was as God 
 then, as the Scriptures assert, wherein lies the 
 astounding miraculousness of His acts even that of 
 restoring the dead 1 He was as the God of Nature, 
 in whom and by whom all things are. Would it 
 not have read as more unreasonable and even miracu- 
 lous in Him, having the power He had, and wishing 
 to proclaim Himself, had it been recorded that from 
 the cradle to the cross He had refrained from using 
 and displaying that power 1 I think so. But this 
 whole matter, my friend, with you lies in a nutshell, 
 as we say. You reason from the postulate up that 
 Christ was as an ordinary gifted man, whereas the 
 Scriptures start with the declaration that while He was 
 so in one sense He was, also, incarnated deity," and 
 so on for a full hour more, until the shoemaker was, 
 in my opinion, morally left without a sole inch to 
 stand upon. After the discussion had run itself to a 
 finish (or was " closed," as we may say, by the shoe- 
 maker), Mucklebackit discoursed to the young man a 
 long lecture of advice, and descanted grandly on 
 Christianity as a solution of the enigma of this world 
 at least, and its perfect fitness to supply fully all 
 the cravings and needs of aspiring but suffering 
 humanity. And so the poor young fellow departed on 
 his self-given task to tramp afoot all the way to New- 
 castle. On leaving, he shook us both long and warmly 
 by the hands, and promised to correspond with Samuel 
 after his arrival. 
 
 Now, with this too serious discussion, my friend, I 
 noticed, had become indeed sad, and had lost ap- 
 parently all the joviality and light-heartedness with
 
 21 6 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 which he began the trip ; so that it seemed to me 
 indeed a God-send when we forgathered with a gro- 
 tesque-looking specimen of the travelling musical 
 fraternity, reading a post bill of a farm sale attached 
 with paste to a gate post by the roadside. My powers 
 are utterly inadequate to describe the singularly gaunt, 
 outre, ghost-like appearance of this original human 
 phenomenon. Imagine an oldish man, near sixty, 
 about six feet and a half long, thin and straight as a 
 moonbeam, and active and spasmodic as an auctioneer, 
 with staring goggle eyes, sallow, sunken cheeks, a 
 Eoman nose, and long, pointed, beardless chin, habited 
 in patched tweed pantaloons (half an ell too short), an 
 old swallow-tailed, once blue coat, and a long, stove-pipe 
 black hat, rusted and indented with age and wear, like 
 the battered, ruined, and weather-gnawed tbwer or 
 dongeon keep of an ancient feudal " strength." His 
 general physique, manner, and " output " recalled 
 forcibly to my mind the portraits of Abraham Lincoln, 
 " Dominie Sampson," and the living person of a once 
 famous preacher of our own locality. As we encoun- 
 tered, a gleam of genuine fun and a merry twinkle of 
 the eye lightened up Mucklebackit's melancholy face, 
 and foretokened the interesting colloquy which ensued. 
 On arriving at the base of the hill in company with 
 this gigantic penny tin whistler, the " phenomenon," 
 as Sam so happily designated him, we all three sat us 
 down by the roadside. The phenomenon told us that 
 in his youth he had followed the singing profession of 
 a plaiden weaver, but being unfortunately attacked 
 with cataract in both eyes, he had been compelled, 
 after years of deepest suffering and trial, to seek out 
 and make up to the love and the charmer of his boy- 
 hood the half-forgotten tin whistle and wean her 
 to win with her dulcet strains the means of livelihood 
 and heartsease back to her distracted devotee. " And 
 sae," concluded he, " hae I, for the last aucht an' 
 thretty years an' mair, here an' there, owre a' braid 
 Scotland, strolled, played, an' cadged for the bare 
 bawbees, an' tit-bits, which a'thegither constitute a
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 2 1 7 
 
 modern mendicant's living." His store of original 
 anecdote illustrative of Scottish life and manners 
 during the last half century seemed simply inex- 
 haustible. During our confab with him, he happened 
 to say that he knew long and well the " Ettrick Shep- 
 herd," both in Edinburgh and at Lake Altrive ; and 
 wantonly or wickedly hazarded an invidious comparison 
 between Hogg and Mucklebackit, which made the 
 latter, as if stung by a reptile, bang to his feet, and with 
 spasmodic, mock-heroic words and action thus harangue 
 the astounded phenomenon : " Old man, I love thee ! 
 Thou art with me of one and the same kidney ! a man, 
 indeed, truly after mine own heart and deeply, oh, 
 most deeply would I deplore uttering aught, even the 
 littlest harsh word against thee ! But what you have 
 just now spoken, demands from me an instant, absolute, 
 and inexorable disclaimer. Hogg and Mucklebackit, 
 indeed ! Comparisons, they say, are odious ; and un- 
 doubtedly the comparison you just now suggested is 
 not only odious but false and impracticable, and by con- 
 sequence unfair to all parties. The Ettrick Shepherd 
 in his day was a wonder (and that in more respects 
 than one), and has, by men who died ungibbeted, been 
 even named mirabile visu ! in the same day with 
 Robert Burns ! ! He was, it is said, thought much of 
 by Sir Walter Scott, the literary Samson, and he 
 certainly wrote a few beautiful songs, and thereby 
 proved himself, though he had written nothing else, 
 to be a true man of genius. The ' Witch of Fyfe ' 
 and one or two songs display gleams of the funniest 
 Scotch humour, and ' Kilmeny,' a whole world of 
 weird, unearthly, but beautiful fancy. This is what 
 we may call the Sunday or most favourable estimate 
 of the poet James Hogg. What he is in the Nodes 
 of Wilson is other than the reality he was what he 
 would have been, in fact, with a large bunch of the 
 higher sprigs of transcendant Burns ingrafted on to 
 him. The real Ettrick Shepherd was, and is, and 
 may continue to be essentially what Wilson has 
 well said ' the Poet Laureate of the Scottish Court
 
 218 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 ot Faery.' Therefore, tliou mellifluous, ancient Pan, 
 seest thou not how erroneous of Mucklebackit is 
 thine estimate? The Ettrick Shepherd and he are 
 alike only in this, that neither of them received but 
 the merest modicum of what they acquired from the 
 schools ; and both arc teetotally self-taught men. 
 Moreover, I sadly, and not egotistically, surmise that 
 the Shepherd's knowledge of science, theology, history, 
 and general British literature was somewhat under my 
 own. But seriously, how much or how little Muckle- 
 backit exceeds, or is exceeded by, the Ettrick Shep- 
 herd, time alone can prove, for though Sam's scrib- 
 blings may be, as they are, truly voluminous, and 
 embracing a fearfully wide sweep of subjects, he hath 
 as yet granted to the hungering world only a few 
 nibbled, detached, bedaubed fly-leaves of his forth- 
 coming quartos the mere wretched spies and scouts 
 of his great mobilised invading literary army now 
 upon the round-about, strategic march for highest 
 Parnassus ! Nor hath he yet determined whether he 
 shall publish during this present century, seeing that 
 dozens of his epics and all his dramas (barring a few 
 farces) are yet in embryo, but quite soon enough for 
 deathless immortality ! Quite soon enough ! But 
 now tell me, Athole Graeme (the phenomenon's real 
 name) tell me truly, didst thou never, born bard as 
 thou art, in thine elevated or depressed moods, muse 
 and pensive ponder a droll or a heartfelt sang of thine 
 own 1 I cannot believe that thou hast come to the 
 time of life thou hast, and withstood, without so much 
 as once succumbing to the overwhelming temptation to 
 commit thyself to the sweet moils and coils of 
 poesy. If I am right, give us, oh, do give us, 
 Athie, without more ado, a sample budget from 
 thy wallet ! " Thus so earnestly and tenderly 
 entreated, the phenomenon appeared to be absolutely 
 unable to refuse him, and so craved pardon (with 
 genuine native courtesy) for singing the following 
 personal verses :
 
 CO UtfTR Y CHR ONICL ES. 219 
 
 ATHIE GRAEME. 
 
 Oh ! I'm a rovin', rampin' loon, 
 
 Wi' lichtsome pouch an' hairt ! 
 Frae Berwick Brig to Brig of Doon 
 
 I ply the piper's airt. 
 At ilka weel-kenned clachan toun 
 
 I'm never grudged a hame, 
 To screen frae scaith, when nicht sets douu, 
 An' Men's to kett the lyart croon 
 
 0' puir, auld Athie Graeme ! 
 
 I've cheer'd the ways o' youth an' e'il 
 
 Thae thretty years and mair ; 
 An' binna when I tint my Nell, 
 
 I've little pree'd o' care. 
 That gruesome day ! I mind it weel ! 
 
 We were for Kelso Fair, 
 She teuk the tout, near Galashiel, 
 That i'airly nickit winsome Nell, 
 
 An' snaw'd auld Athie's hair ! 
 
 The flow'r was on the rowan tree, 
 
 The blossom on the heath, 
 Aside a spring, aneath a brae, 
 
 We coor'd to gether breath ; 
 " Come, Athie, dearie, play," quo' she, 
 
 " John Anderson, my jo ! 
 I'm maybe wrang o' what may be ; 
 But something, Athie, loors on me 
 
 That hechts death's comin' blow ! " 
 
 She dee'd that vera nicht ! Sin' syno 
 
 I've wandered high an' low, 
 Still dearer to me, an' divine, 
 
 Grows winsome Nell, my jo ! 
 But moiiy a tear, for auld lang syne, 
 
 Doth blin' auld Athie's e'e ! 
 This human heart mak's sic a shine ! 
 An' downa eithly memory tine, 
 
 In even a man like me !
 
 220 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Shortly after the song the old man departed on his 
 way, staunchly promising to call upon Samuel on his 
 return journey westward for the Glasgow Fair, and we 
 instantly scrambled over the fence, and set our faces 
 to the " stey brae " of Traprain. At length, on reach- 
 ing the top, with our limbs stretched and our backs to 
 the cairn, we long and silently enjoyed the magnifi- 
 cent prospect before us bedecked and painted as it 
 was by the syren limner balmy, cunning, rosy June. 
 As the day of our jaunt was as I previously men- 
 tioned one of the last of a late " terrible drouth," 
 we were exceedingly fortunate in our weather, for 
 though the sky was slightly overcast, and brilliant 
 sunshine consequently absent, the atmosphere, for this 
 very reason, was just in proper fettle for affording 
 sightseers like ourselves ample gratification. North- 
 ward from the foot of the hill, the enraptured eye was 
 panoramically carried over green fields, fallows, silent, 
 and somehow sad-looking farm-steadings and glistering 
 villages, aristocratic demesnes, smoking towns, swell- 
 ing ridges and hills, woods closing in the expanding 
 distance into seeming huge, black forests, silvern sweeps, 
 streaks, and gleams of sea,begemmed with tiny ships 
 and sails then again land, hills and woods, the latter 
 diminished and less dark and prominent, and the for- 
 mer more ample, having smokeless, starry towns nest- 
 ling in their midst away into the blue, grey, misty, 
 dim, mysterious distance, in which the highest giants 
 and Bens of the Ochils and of the Grampians half 
 shrouded themselves, and loomed vaguely and grandly, 
 like a poet's awful visions of retributive eternity ! 
 Westward the landscape is less varied a rolling, not 
 quite unfolded, strath or plain of green fields and dark 
 woods, mottled with noblemen's mansions, farm home- 
 steads, and a town or two, bordered on the right with 
 adjacent heights and glimpses of sea, and walled in on 
 the left with uncouth-looking, naked, monotonous, 
 high moorlands, and displaying in the distant back- 
 ground the smoky whereabouts of Scotland's peerless 
 capital, with her towering guardian peaks of Arthur's
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 22 1 
 
 Seat, the Pentlands, and the Braid Hills. Muckle- 
 backit, with an eye like a wizard's, and ready at all 
 times to bamboozle one, declared stoutly that he could 
 discern the Tap o' Tinto, in Lanarkshire ! but I 
 couldn't see it. After we had leisurely roamed over 
 the hill top from west to east and from north to south, 
 and seen all that we could see, and secured some 
 lichen and other botanical specimens, we snugly en- 
 sconced ourselves from the wind behind a huge detached 
 mass of trap near to the " Maiden Stones," for refresh- 
 ment and an hour's quiet chat. Samuel here told me 
 a strange legend, which he had picked up in some of 
 his antiquarian researches, concerning the origin of the 
 name of " Traprain," and which I do not recollect 
 having heard before. He said that the ancient name 
 of Traprain Law was "Dumpender" (it is so styled 
 by Scott in his " Marmion "), and by this appellation 
 was it generally known up to the time of the hapless, 
 poor Queen Mary. After the beauteous but frail queen 
 had foolishly or distractedly eloped from Edinburgh 
 with Bothwell, and married him at Dunbar Castle, she 
 returned to Holyrood. In about a month afterwards, 
 on the rising of the combined nobles, she and Both- 
 well were fain again to seek the shelter of Dunbar. 
 At Dunbar she collected her remaining adherents 
 belonging to that part of the country and marched 
 westwards (alas ! towards fatal Carberry Hill !) against 
 the confederates via Hailes Castle, where she halted 
 and slept over the night. So far, this outline is a 
 matter of accredited history. But now comes in loving 
 local tradition with liberal heart to fill up the picture. 
 On leaving the castle on the morrow, the .Queen ex- 
 pressed a wish, so goes the legend, to visit the summit 
 of the Law, for the twofold purpose of enjoying the 
 romantic prospect, and reconnoitring, if possible, the 
 strength and position of the enemy. Accordingly, 
 accompanied by Bothwell and a handful of followers, 
 mounted on their Galloways, she set forth and scaled 
 the hill by the north-west shoulder over a track 
 which is still distinguished in the locality by the several
 
 222 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 names of the " Queen's Hide," the " Queen's Eoad," and 
 the " Queen's Path " and, eventually, all gay, and 
 beauteous, and sparkling as a dewy rose in a May 
 morning, safely reached the cairn. Descrying in the 
 distance what appeared to be a niighty cavalcade of the 
 enemy pouring over the Garleton heights (but which, 
 in reality, was a reinforcement coming to her aid from 
 Seaton) secretly, as her guilty fears suggested, to sur- 
 prise and take her prisoner, she alarmedly and hur- 
 riedly screamed to her attendant followers, " Ho ! hie 
 thee ! Trip an' rin ! Yon's ye bastard Murray ! trip 
 an' rin ! " And so, according to this very plausible 
 and true-seeming legend, "Dumpender" was thus re- 
 baptised unwittingly by its fairest and most unhappy 
 sovereign, and came to be universally known as the 
 hill of " Trip-an-rin," now corrupted or modernised 
 into the meaningless, if more euphonious, " Traprain." 
 Mucklebackit, also, as we cowered by the " Maiden 
 Stones," kindly drew my attention to the configuration 
 and disposition of a series of scattered and projecting 
 rocks and knolls, extending as far north as the Tyne, 
 in these words : "Albeit, Tammas, thou art no geolo- 
 gist, yet hath thou, as I too well know, an unco e'e for 
 fact plain, gross, palpable, sheer matter of fact in 
 fact, for fact and for nothing or little else. Observe 
 then thae rocks and hillocks below. Do you see any- 
 thing peculiar in their shapes an' general outlines ? eh, 
 what 1 " After staring at the little hills in question 
 until my spectacled optics ached and quaked again, I 
 answered, " No, nothing out of the ordinary way ex- 
 cept it be their number. They are certainly very 
 numerous." " I thought so," gleefully rejoined Sam, 
 " for it was years before I noticed it myself. Well, 
 then, Dominie, keep before your matter-of-fact mental 
 eye the external aspect v of this mountain of Traprain, 
 and look down upon the plain, and behold what a 
 Mormon's family of miniature Laws, and how like 
 each and all of them are to their gigantic old father, 
 Traprain every one of them, like their dad, too, hav- 
 ing their sheer, scaured, rocky, bold, lion-like faces
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 223 
 
 turned more or less southwards (though perhaps not 
 for the purpose of scaring back the old invading Eng- 
 lish), all sloping gently more or less northwards. Ob- 
 serve also, but do not heed this fact too much, how 
 they all keep within certain limits of either side a 
 straight line drawn from where we now sit to the Law 
 of North Berwick. What 1 Oh, yes ! Of course 
 think ye naebody can be a dominie but yersel', ye in- 
 fatuated auld driveller 1 Admire how that straight 
 line passes right through their midst, and onward and 
 northward, having the heights of Pencraig and the 
 romantic scarps of Balgone on one and the other side 
 of it. At Edinburgh it is the same. There we have 
 Calton Hill, Castle Hill, Arthur's Seat, and Salisbury 
 Crags all testifying by their uniformity of shape, &c., 
 to a common (at first) eruptive origin, probably during 
 the carboniferous period, and, more recently, to the 
 mighty surface current which swept from the north 
 and west, and scooped them out and left them as 
 they now appear to our wondering and astonished 
 faculties." 
 
 Before we began our descent, Mucklebackit led me 
 to the southern side of the hill and pointed solemnly 
 and mysteriously to an old, tumble-down-looking farm 
 "onstead." "There," said he, with a much longer 
 face than ever I saw him draw before, " there, in the 
 olden time, I have heard, was a foul, dark deed of 
 bloody crime once perpetrated. In yon old farmhouse 
 dwelt with her father a beautiful, blooming, artless- 
 hearted maiden, beloved by two rival swains, the yeo- 
 man sons of two neighbouring farmers. And the 
 maiden gave her love to the gentle, sober, peace and 
 home-loving Jamie Woodlee, in preference to the im 
 perious, impetuous, and proud though much poorer 
 George Brant. Under the dark shadow of Traprain, 
 at midnight, the lovers had their last stolen interview, 
 for the girl's father favoured, because of his religion, 
 the discarded lover, and she dared not be seen with 
 Woodlee in open day- from which meeting they 
 parted, as lovers do, vowing eternal fidelity towards
 
 224 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 each other, and the next morning Woodlee's ghastly, 
 gashed, murdered body was discovered in yonder 
 low field beside the trees. The perpetrator of this 
 awful crime, according to tradition, was never legally 
 known and brought to justice, but about a year 
 and a half afterwards, the maiden, who had by 
 this time become little better than a maniac, broke 
 loose from her guardians and rushed into Brant's 
 house while he was at supper, and stabbed him 
 through the heart with a "gully," or slaughtering 
 knife, which she had but too cunningly secreted about 
 her dress for her fell and tragic purpose. What 
 latterly became of the maiden, legend saith not, but 
 in my boyhood I once came upon a ballad on this 
 local tragedy, but I have long forgotten it all save this 
 one shred 
 
 We met by Trapraiu Hill south side midnicht 
 The stars were shootin' as they're shootin' still ; 
 
 The snaw is frozen on his grave this nicht, 
 An' I sit weepin' by the lonely Hill. 
 
 I ken wha did thy wrang, Jamie Woodlee, 
 Sae rest thee, lad, in thy dear early bed ; 
 
 I'll redd it yet ! I swear, before I dee, 
 An' Jesu pardon me when it is redd ! 
 
 As we began our descent by the cast end of the 
 Law, and had proceeded, say, a few hundred yards, we 
 were suddenly surprised by a fitful and ominous gust 
 of soughing wind blowing behind us from the south- 
 west, when a moment before, and for some half hour 
 previously, we had experienced an almost dead calm. 
 Halting and nimbly wheeling right about, we both of 
 us descried at once the cause of the unexpected aerial 
 tumult in the murky shape of a tremendous dark 
 thundery-looking cloud lowering dense and dismally 
 over Salton way, and apparently charging right for 
 the Law. " It will thunder soon ! " we both frantically 
 exclaimed at the same time, as if already imbued with
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 225 
 
 the harsh and abrupt nature of the approaching storm. 
 Mucklebackit, after gleefully a score or so of times 
 shouting at his loudest, " Turnips yet ! rain, rain ! 
 turnips yet ! " actually squatted prone down on the 
 bare hill, declaring that he would not budge a foot 
 till the " Celestial Sedan was fought and Bismarck'd," 
 as he unconcernedly called it. As for myself, though 
 I have ever been afflicted with a disagreeable nervous- 
 ness or tremour under near thunder, I was, of course, 
 will ye nill ye, forced to submit, and stretch myself, 
 by his side, and patiently await the upshot. Scarcely 
 had I pressed the turf when Mucklebackit nearly 
 startled me out of my wits by unexpectedly ejaculat- 
 ing, " Eh ! ! See that, Tarn ! What a flash ! Jehosh- 
 aphat ! " and in a jiffy I was stunned to the marrow 
 by a fearful crash of that peculiar, battery-like hubbub 
 of sound, fitly called thunder, and which resembles 
 no other noise with which the ear of man is acquainted 
 the nearest to it, in my opinion, being that produced 
 by coals when lustily tilted out of carts upon a cause- 
 wayed street, or that enthralling din made by a high 
 sea breaking upon Cape Wrath on a quiet November 
 evening ; but even these are scarcely so much as 
 faintest whispers to a near, terrific, tumble-down, out- 
 with-it-right-off, bolting burst of sublime thunder. 
 " Thunder," solemnly whispered Sam, as we lay quak- 
 ing together on that naked hill-side, " thunder, though 
 we know what it is and what causes it, and so forth, 
 licks to froth and scum all the other material or 
 physical phenomena of the world in arresting and 
 appealing to the spiritual nature of moral man, 
 by showing him his insignificance and helplessness, 
 and his absolute need of a trust in, and reliance 
 and dependence upon, a higher power than himself; 
 and happy is he, I say, in a moment like this, whose 
 trust is even as that of a child's pure, unquestioning, 
 sufficient, all in all.'' After another and a nearer peal, 
 he continued thoughtfully, " In battle, in shipwreck, 
 in earthquake, in fire, &c., man may be as utterly 
 helpless as in the thunder-storm, but the effect upon
 
 226 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 him is widely different in such cases ; the excitement 
 is too great, the danger too evident and appalling, and 
 the result is rather stupifying and maddening than 
 soul-awakening and solemnising. Byron's somewhat 
 strained, but yet grand description of a thunder-storm 
 upon the Alps, you, no doubt, Dominie, have read ; but 
 if not, and if you undeservedly and miraculously escape 
 instant annihilation by the present storm, give not 
 sleep to thine eyelids another night before doing so. 
 Read also, and read often, Shakspeare's magnificent 
 heath scenes in " Lear ;" but, above all, read, and not 
 only read, but commit to heart, the sublimely simple 
 passages touching thunder to be found in Scripture in 
 the books of Job, Isaiah, and the Psalms of Krng 
 David. For, Dominie, Byron may be splendid and 
 grand, Milton may be majestic and sublime, and 
 Shakspeare may be mind and heart engrossing, vivid, 
 minute, and magnificent, but Scripture alone, I think, 
 is more than all these great writers, for it ia like the 
 very thunder itself at once simple, awful, and divine. 
 Oh, Tarn, what poets some of those old Jews were !" 
 
 While we thus gravely discoursed, the thunder- 
 cloud, happily, before reaching the Law, shied sharply 
 towards the south, and the thunder itself soon became 
 too distant and indistinct to be heard by us, and imme- 
 diately the sun burst out in splendour in the west, 
 without one drop of rain having fallen. Getting once 
 more upon shanks-nagie, we somewhat disappointedly 
 resumed our descent, and may have succeeded in safely 
 reaching about half-way down when we curiously for- 
 gathered with another party of visitors, consisting of a 
 lady, two middle-aged gentlemen, and a bright, bonnie, 
 rosy boy of about twelve years of age. This party of 
 visitors, who were also descending, had, strange to say, 
 been sight-seeing and strolling all over the hill during 
 the whole time of our sojourn upon it, without hitherto 
 so much as once seeing or meeting with us. As the 
 eldest gentleman belonged to the neighbourhood, and 
 was known to Sam, they of course saluted, and we 
 strangers got introduced to each other. The lady,
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 227 
 
 youngest gentleman, and the boy, were relatives of 
 Sam's friend the lady being his sister, and the other 
 two respectively her English husband and her eldest 
 child. 
 
 After a few trivial weather remarks, Mucklebackit 
 and the Englishman suddenly collided, and got at 
 loggerheads with each other conversationally, to the 
 amusement and, I believe, the instruction of the whole 
 party. " Ay, man," craftily and Scotch-like recon- 
 noitred Mucklebackit, as we all at last thankfully re- 
 clined on the elastic turf at the foot of the hill " Ay, 
 man, ye say ye've been to the Hielan's, an' Dundee, 
 an' Glasgow, an' Edinburgh?" "Oh yes!" viva- 
 ciously interrupted the fine-looking, sweet-tongued, 
 brat of a laddie. " Yes ; and Inverness, and Aber- 
 deen, and ever so many places, and we rode on ponies 
 to the top of Loch-na-gair, and through Glencoe, and" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Albert," cried his happy 
 
 mother, " you must not disturb, dear, when the 
 gentlemen are talking;" but she might have held her 
 tongue, for the glorious young rascal was far out of 
 hearing after a covey of newly-hatched partridges ere 
 the words were well out of her mouth, and we saw him 
 no more. " Weel, Southern (excuse my familiarity, 
 madam, it's jist my way), what is your opinion of 
 Scotland 1 Speak out frankly. Don't be scared. I 
 am an unprejudiced, universal Cosmopolite !" " Do 
 you request a statement of my opinion of the 
 country, or of the people of Scotland?" demanded the 
 Englishman, a little upset by my friend's bluntness. 
 " Baith," cried Sam, " Baith ; but chiefly your opinion 
 of the fock, as I ken weel already nane better that 
 our auld Scotland outstripsand stands unparalleled upon 
 the roond o' this God's globe for the marvellous variety, 
 and sublimity, and beauty, and richness, and romance, 
 and historical sacredness of her amaist divine and 
 world-wide famous scenery ! Sae and therefore, tell 
 us about the fock, oor ain Scotch fock, what ye see 
 wrang or what ye see richt aboot oor fock." 
 
 " Well, as you bid me speak frankly," began the
 
 228 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Englishman, " I must say. though my wife here is of 
 your nation, that I decidedly do not like your Scotch 
 people, generally speaking." " Oh, Joseph, how can 
 you how dare you talk so ! " pleaded his lady. " Let 
 him go on, dear Mrs Bull, let him go on ! " eagerly put 
 in Sam ; " I'll wind him a pirn in twa jerks instantly ! 
 Bleeze awa', Joseph ! " " Their manners seem to me 
 to be formed upon the model of those of their High- 
 land shepherds' dogs, which, though you do not 
 meddle with, will yet reward your inoffensive presence 
 with a wary, suspicious, and threatening eye, and if, 
 unluckily, even with the best intention, you so much 
 as touch a hair belonging to them, you will run the 
 risk of being snapped at, if riot severely bitten. What 
 I mean to drop metaphor is, that to an ordinary 
 Englishman, such as myself, your people appear to be 
 coarse, uncivil, unpolite, cold, heartless, and unneigh- 
 bourly, distant and sympathy-repelling in their man- 
 ners and demeanour ; and this appears the more extra- 
 ordinary when we consider how general education is 
 amongst you. No, Mary, I am not ungrateful ; I 
 speak aggregately, and not of individuals. Scotchmen 
 in England, however, are. apparently quite different. 
 There they are all almost universally noted for their 
 superior intelligence, invincible probity, and indomit- 
 able perseverance and energy ; and their manners, if we 
 except an apparent dislike for much conversation, 
 are on the average of those of other people. But, to 
 come north the Tweed again, if a gentleman talk to a 
 poor Scotchman, with his foot upon his native heath, 
 he will almost invariably find him to be fawning and 
 obsequious, and, it may be, half-frightened out of his 
 1 rumblegumption,' as he styles his wits. If he (the 
 gentleman) urge the acquaintanceship, or in any way 
 be familiar with him, tl) e fear and servility will rapidly 
 leave him, and he will become curiously impertinent, 
 and personally and offensively critical." 
 
 As the Englishman candidly delivered himself of 
 these severe remarks upon the peasantry of our country, 
 the sight of Mucklebackit's face was a rare study.
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES 229 
 
 At first his mighty, overhanging brows gradually came 
 down, till his deep-set grey eyes were scarcely visible; 
 then, as the Englishman proceeded, and his mental 
 agony increased, the dismal face began to curl up, and 
 girn, and frown, and grin, as an old man's will do 
 when he is enduring acute pain in his foot ; and at 
 last he got his under lip into his mouth, and bit and 
 gnawed it so, that I expected every moment to see it 
 literally crushed or sawn off from his chin ! " But, 
 my friend, to advance from manners to customs," still 
 coolly chatted on this inexorable Southron, " Your 
 custom of observing the Sunday as you do in this the 
 last quarter of the nineteenth century, is sufficient of 
 itself to send away in scorn and disgust all intelligent 
 foreign people who may visit you." " Enough ! " 
 suddenly roared Mucklebackit, at this stage jumping 
 to his feet ; " enough ! I say ! Now, with your good 
 lady's leave, have at ye, John Bull ! I will crush ye 
 like a limpet ! It so happens, my Scotch-hating friend 
 let me briefly premise that the living Muckle- 
 backit, now in the controversial arena dangerously 
 against you, albeit far from being an old man yet, hath 
 also travelled a crinch in his day, and hath sojourned 
 for a space in London and various other parts of Eng- 
 land, Ireland, Canada, and the United States of 
 America, besides many other foreign parts, meeting 
 and associating in these wanderings with people 
 belonging to, or hailing from most of the civilised 
 nations of the earth. As for the Scotch manners of 
 Scotchmen since you allow as passable their English 
 ones I myself have noticed, after an absence from 
 Scotland of considerable duration, a glimmering streak 
 of the exaggerated fact you charge them with. But 
 what then 1 Manners may mean a great deal, I grant 
 you ; but only to the superficial are they everything. It 
 is not all gold that glitters ; neither doth all gold glitter. 
 ' Manners,' say ye! ' Will o' Wisp' hath the ' manner,' 
 of a sphered star of heaven, and what in reality is he ? 
 Yea, a deceptive ephemeral ; nocturnal mendacity, 
 generated from the effluvia of a stinking swamp !
 
 230 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 ' Manners ! ' A man may possess and practise the 
 ' manners ' of the first gentleman in Europe, and be 
 at the same time in mind and heart a fool and a sot. 
 A Spaniard will overwhelm you with courtesy and 
 fine ' manners,' while he secretly stilettoes you ! Vir- 
 tue and nobility do not necessarily imply polish and 
 suavity. You instance a poor Scot upon his native 
 heather. I am not sure, had I time, but I could rea- 
 son you into the belief that his apparent fear and 
 sycophancy, not to speak of his admitted tendency to 
 criticise his social superiors, may be, in the Scotch- 
 man's case, the offspring of the noblest latent qualities 
 and dispositions. As you have already spoken so 
 frankly, let me now parodise you, and say that I do 
 not like your English people speaking generally ! 
 Their manners seem to be formed upon the pattern of 
 those of their fighting bull-dogs, for they are vicious, 
 gluttonous, vindictive, discontented, proud, arrogant, 
 dogmatic, prejudiced, and disdainful, and supercilious 
 beyond bearing ! and this appears the more extra- 
 ordinary when we consider that education is so little 
 known and valued, and that darkest ignorance conse- 
 quently prevails to such a heart-and-bone-breaking 
 extent amongst you ! One word more, in seriousness, 
 before we part. You not too generously, not to say 
 illogically, referred to our custom of keeping the 
 Sunday. God knows, I desire not to advocate any- 
 thing, even the appearance of over-righteousness, and 
 I believe, and wish to practise to the full, the sacred 
 axiom, that ' man was not made for the Sabbath, but 
 the Sabbath for man ; ' still, ' not for Joseph ' (as you 
 English people say), nor a thousand such Josephs, 
 would I give my word or vote for altering or Frenchy- 
 fying one jot or tittle our revered Scottish Sabbath. 
 I am really confounded to hear a seemingly logical 
 and educated man like you talk so. Think ye, is it 
 not as evident as daylight that the holier and more 
 religiously this one day of the seven is kept by the 
 people, the better will it be for the people themselves 1 
 All past and contemporary history responds a thou-
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 23 1 
 
 sand times, yes ! We Scotch people do not deny that 
 fresh air and recreation are absolutely necessary for a 
 man. But this we do deny and long and heartily 
 may we do so ! that a Christian man is justified, 
 except in extreme cases, in seeking even fresh air and 
 recreation at the expense or to the detriment of his 
 religious concerns. To arg'ue otherwise is, illogically, 
 putting the cart before the horse the body before the 
 mind and soul of man. I could tell you plenty, my 
 friend, had I time, about infidelity and foreign Sun- 
 days ; but, as the tree is known by its fruit, you can, 
 at any time, read the lesson for yourself. Now we 
 must part, Pintail an' me hae a lang gait yet to 
 traverse ! " 
 
 After parting, we rapidly trudged over the road that 
 leads east from the Law by the farms of Sunnyside 
 and Traprain, Sam intending to guide me home by 
 way of " brae heads," one of the most beautiful roads, 
 he assured me, in the county. After we had passed 
 the breezy hamlet of Traprain, Sam directed my atten- 
 tion to the farm-steading of Kippielaw, on the left, as 
 being at once the spot where the first steam-engine 
 was erected in the locality, and the birthplace of his 
 "dear auld mother ane o' the cleverest and most 
 angelic o' God's women." A little farther north-east, 
 we turned sharply to the west, through a common field 
 gateway, and at last entered upon the renowned 
 " Brae Heads " of East Linton. These " brae heads," 
 which may freely, and with justice, be denominated, 
 par excellence, "the banks and braes o' bonnie Tyne," 
 and which stretch from the Linn at the town of East 
 Linton up to or a little beyond Hailes Castle, consist, 
 on the north side of the river, of a long series of more 
 or less precipitous, rocky, wooded, and cultivated 
 slopes ; and on the south side, of the " brae heads " 
 proper a long, running group of bonnie whin, brier, 
 and broom-clad knolls and ravines, with high inter- 
 secting, bluff, rugged, grey trap-rocks, and with the 
 liveliest and greenest of haughs and howms between, 
 and having the gentle and placid Tyne, like the spirit
 
 232 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 of peace, meandering, and twisting, and winding, and 
 sweeping here gliding hushed and calmly on ; there 
 bickering and prattling dreamily, lovingly, and beauti- 
 fully through their midst. Conterminous with the 
 " brae heads," and at the conjunction of them with 
 the cultivated land to the south, runs the now well- 
 macadamised but still unfenced road between Linton 
 and Haddington by Hailes Castle ; and it was by this 
 route that we journeyed home from the Law. As we 
 sauntered leisurely along, enjoying the enchanting 
 beauty of the scene around us, Mucklebackit told me 
 that, when a boy, he had for three years almost daily 
 ridden over this road upon a stallion donkey "one 
 of the rarest and fleetest of animals ! " to the school at 
 East Linton. "Ay, Tarn, those indeed were happy 
 days," he continued, " and, strangely, I remember 
 every trifling incident belonging to them as weel, an' 
 better, than I mind the serious events of yesterday. 
 There were some unique and original ' toun characters ' 
 about Linton in those days, but alas ! alas ! for poor 
 humanity ! they are ' a' deid and awa,' and the auld 
 haunts that knew them, and which they knew sae 
 weel, shall know them no more ! But prose is but 
 cauld tea to auld langsyne. Hark ye ! 
 
 " 'Jock Little' wasna little when 
 His wee white cuddy drew like ten ! 
 Mercurial Gibb ! for Linton men 
 
 (Blythe automaton ! ), 
 Gaed trotting, wi' the letters then, 
 
 Auld specs an' hat on ! 
 
 " An' auld ' Rob Edington ' in 's big coat 
 An' slouch'd ' lum hat,' yet papp'd about, 
 A bitter carle was he, nae doubt, 
 
 Wi's naps an' jeers ! 
 But death's gi'en him an unco clout, 
 
 For a' his sneers ! 
 
 " Puir, red cowl'd ' Dudgeon ! ' waefu' craze ! 
 Lounged mutterin', as in business days,
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 233 
 
 To visionary market gaes 
 
 piteous jargon ! 
 An' coft his sheep, or said his queys 
 
 ' A splendid bargain ! ' 
 
 " An' ' Ramage,' ' Farquar,' ' Anderson,' 
 An' rare ' Will Arnot,' that dear son 
 Of witty trick an' lusty fun ! 
 
 An' mony mae 
 Toun characters, whase race is run 
 
 This mony a day ! 
 
 " An' noo ' schule bairns ' are full fledged-men, 
 Owre the wide warld their flicht is ta'en ! 
 As pioneers, owre Charon's main, 
 
 Nae few hae sailed ! 
 A shattered remnant here remain 
 
 To care entailed ! " 
 
 The remainder of our return journey was made by 
 way of Hailes Castle, which we also inspected and 
 chatted about for a half hour, but I dare not, at this 
 late hour, go into that subject, and must conclude this 
 veritable history of a trip to Traprain Law, by casually 
 observing that we both reached home in safety by the 
 gloaming. As I turned up the entry to my farm- 
 steading at Blaebraes, the June sun was setting glori- 
 ously over the Garleton Hills not a cloud, save the 
 few golden ones surrounding the retiring orb of day, 
 blotted the wide and azure field of Heaven ; and on a 
 thorn tree at the gate a speckled mellow mavis sung 
 his tuneful vespers to the dewy-eyed evening. 
 
 A TENANT FAEMER'S WEDDING-PRELIMINARIES. 
 
 Behold ! O glorious countrymen, 
 Who love auld Scotland blue, 
 
 This hist'ry of her yeoman son 
 John Hootsman, bold and true ! 
 
 S. 31.
 
 234 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 Events the most startling and improbable are 
 always, in this mysterious sphere called earth, occurring, 
 and we are every day by them being compelled to 
 acknowledge the Beaconsfield aphorism that the un- 
 expected is that which happens. The auspicious event 
 now forthwith about to be for all time chronicled, may 
 not be said to fall under the category of the wholly 
 unlooked-for, perhaps, because it was believed in by 
 one or two individuals as a fact which was quite pos- 
 sible any time during the last five or six years. But if 
 the event itself was probable and in a way foreseen, 
 the period of its occurrence was all uncertain and un- 
 known, so that when it did transpire that it was to be, 
 the report burst upon us all with the suddenness of a 
 thunder clap, or the theatrical abruptness of one of 
 Beaconsfield's " brightest " surprises. 
 
 The assembled worshippers in the now beautifully 
 renovated church of Tyne Kirk were all stirred up and 
 agitated to the marrow on a quite recent Sunday 
 morning, by the worthy precentor thereof springing 
 nimbly up in his seat at the very moment the minis- 
 ter, in his voluminous and flying sombre robes, was 
 seen to issue from the vestry on his grand march, to 
 the pulpit and vociferating in an admirably valorous 
 and stentorian voice the following wonderful declara- 
 tion : 
 
 " There is a purpose of marriage between the follow- 
 ing parties, namely, John Hootsman, in this parish, 
 and Jessie Helen Fairbairn, also in this parish ; of 
 which proclamation is hereby made for the first, second, 
 and third time ! ! " 
 
 No sooner had this prominent and important church 
 functionary delivered himself valiantly of this ominous 
 annunciation than all over and through the sanctuary 
 were flashed covert glances of unspeakable consterna- 
 tion and horror between/ maiden and maiden ; yea, 
 between widow and widow (for Hootsman had been 
 couthie with every one of them, and hope had made 
 her temple in the hearts of them all), and a certain 
 spinster, now resident at Teuch Cleuch, and named
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 235 
 
 Miss Jenny Birdie, actually swooned right away, 
 and had to be supported from the church on the arm 
 of her brother. (I would here respectfully emphasise 
 that my readers would do well to remember this last 
 fact, viz., that Miss Jenny Birdie, on hearing the 
 hanns proclaimed of John Hootsman and Jessie Helen 
 Fairbairn, actually fainted in the church, and had to 
 be borne therefrom by her hrother.) Apparently, the 
 young men of the congregation had their risible and 
 wonder-loving faculties considerably affected by the 
 matrimonial announcement, for, when " nobody was 
 looking," they smirked, pulled their moustaches, and 
 even winked to each other in a general sympathy of 
 mingled glee and astonishment. However, such is the 
 universal regard not only respect, but love in which 
 Hootsman and all and everything pertaining to him is 
 held and viewed by the people, that, after the service, 
 not from one of the many groups who discussed the 
 grand event as they wended homewards from church 
 could an ill-natured or dissentient word anent the 
 marriage have been heard. 
 
 A specimen snip of a conversation in which the 
 writer T. P. joined and indulged with two ancient 
 female originals on the way home from church may 
 afford a fit illustration of the general feeling of the 
 populace regarding the projected nuptials. Cried 
 Maggie Jamieson to her companion and bosom gossip, 
 as I over-reached the couple, just as they were passing 
 through the first gate beyond the village, " Eh, lor', 
 have a care o' me, here's Maister Pintail ! Let's 
 speak 'im, Shoosie, let's speak 'im he's fast an' thick 
 wi' Hootsman ! Mr Pintail, wuz 'e at the kirk the 
 day] but I needna be speirin', for 'deed, I saw ye 
 i' yer auld corner, teegerin' wi' yer broos, andglowerin' 
 aboot ye like a wil' cat at ane an' a' ! Weel, than, Mr 
 Pintail, did ye hear yon cryin', an' what thocht ye 
 o't ] " " Od," quoth I, in their own dialect, but in- 
 wardly resolved to keep my sough to myself in the 
 meantime, " Od, Maggie, the precentor did it geyan 
 weel ; he was just a wee thocht flurrid, maybe, but,
 
 236 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 faigs, I hae seen a drumlier mess than he made this 
 day." " 'E silly gowk ! " exclaimed Susan or 
 " Shoosie " Sirle, " that's no what we're on ! Oo 
 want to ken what 'e think aboot yer freend Mr Hoots- 
 man's waddin' 1 " " Oh, I see ! weel, the water, ye 
 ken, 'ill never war the widdie. Sae, gin the gude Mr 
 Hootsman is weirdit to be married a third time neist 
 week, he canna necessarily live mony mae days singly ' 
 He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar ; but John 
 Hootsman is no' a man that'll sell his hens in a rainy 
 day ; an' I ha'e great hopes that he is juist the sort o' 
 lad that hinnerly will ding the deil." " Eh ! Mr Pin- 
 tail," rejoined stout old Susan, " lease me on you ! 
 John Hootsman, for a' his fondness o' folly and daffin, 
 is a rale gentleman, an' a kind heart, oot an' oot ! 
 But whae e'er wad hae thocht that the weel-faur'd 
 honest man as he is wad hae drawn up wi' sic a bit 
 hempie, halflin' lassie as Miss Fairbairn ? I wat he kens 
 his ain ken, an' I winna be his judge gude forbid ; 
 but John was aye warm an' crackit on the women side 
 sin' e'er he wes man muckle. Ye'll hae been biddin' 
 'ersel na to the wadin', Mr Pintail in doun sooth, 
 hae ye 1 Answer strecht, na ! " " Ou ay," quoth I, 
 indifferently. " Ou ay, a' the freends '11 be askit, maist 
 like, an I'm sib to the Stuart." " Is't to be on Tise- 
 day or Wadnesday, or whan 1 " renewed the indefatig- 
 able and insatiable newsmonger. " On Foorsday," I 
 jerked back, glad to stop her mouth with anything. 
 "On Foorsday!" she exclaimed, asthmatically, but 
 with inexhaustible interest, and, in fact, with reinforced 
 anxiety to know everything. " On Foorsday ! wha 
 ever heard the like o' that ! It's D'keith market day, 
 sae he canny leuk for his wastlin' freends that day, 
 surely unless they lat the market gang as weel, I 
 trow, they micht ; for wha, oh, wha, wadna lat twenty 
 markets haud an' gang for sic a rantin' as the waddin' 
 o' honest, bonnie John Hootsman the ae true freend 
 o' puir fowk in a' oor country-side ! " " Weel a wat, 
 Shoosie, ye say richt ! " chimed in Maggie, " for a 
 warmer an' a kinder hearted an' a better man than
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 257 
 
 douce, dacent John Hootsman disna in braid Scotland 
 breathe the breatli o' life ! Whan oor Will got his 
 fit hurt wi' the cairt wheel, deil a bawbee he keepit 
 aff his wage, but was nicht an' noon an' mornin' aye 
 stap, stappin' ben the entry to see him ; an' the things 
 he sent him jeely an' meat an' wine, an' a' that 
 held a' oor hoose druni-fou for better than a fort- 
 nicht ! Sae I say, as 'e say, Shoosan, gude forfend an' 
 abide John Hootsman, for eh ! he's a fine man ! " 
 " He's ane o' the rale auld stock, Maggie," returned 
 Susan, " the auld stock wearie me ! that there's 
 e'en noo but bits o' hinner ends an' shairds left o' ! 
 Hootsman's mither said to her cousin Barbara, quoth 
 
 she " 
 
 I know not to this hour what it was that Hootsman's 
 mother said to her cousin Barbara, for at this stage of 
 the " clash " I was hailed from behind vociferously by 
 another acquaintance in the likeness and reality of no 
 less a personage than the prize ploughman, Jamie 
 Horsman himself, who has this year been promoted to 
 the grieveship of the large and fine farm of Leddyslove. 
 He was also, he informed me when shaking hands, 
 returning from Tynekirk, but had lingered behind on 
 purpose to let the church people be housed before he 
 came through the village, as he had feared the multi- 
 tudinous questions which would undoubtedly have 
 been levelled at him anent the wedding had he not 
 done so. He assured me, with a visage as serious- 
 looking as a new made bailie's, that young Sam was 
 prospering famously, and every day increasing and 
 expanding like a new moon ! They had had tichlish 
 times o't at Leddyslove lately. The turnips had been 
 behind hand from the very first, and noo this unco 
 waddin' had fairly coosten a'thing tapselterie sae 
 muckle, in fac', that e'en noo the deil had a'thegither 
 gane clean owre Jock Wabster. How they were to 
 get through in onything like guid time, was mair than 
 he (Jamie) could tell. Twa double cairts, an' twa 
 men, baud to be aff the morn's mornin' to fesh hame 
 the new plenishin' frae Heddington. Maister Hoots-
 
 238 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 man had surely a lang stockin' fit (bank account), for 
 he was sparing naething. Penters an' paperhingers 
 were i' the house, an' had been for weeks by-gane. 
 The auld housekeeper an' ither twa women were scrub- 
 bin' an' scourin' ilka neuk an' nitch that wad wash 
 upstairs an' dounstairs parlour an' pantry. Ootside, 
 they were, he jaloosed, even thranger. The barnyaird 
 had to be tackled till, an' a' the louse strae stackit tidy 
 up, afore the grand day. The coachroad had to be 
 cleaned, the edges paired strecht, an' the haill o't, frae 
 the tae end tae the tither, new channelled owre. Then 
 a' the mains was bound to be seen till ; a' the roofs 
 were to be gane owre by the slaters, an' the wrichts 
 were to mak' mensefu' an' wicelike a' the close yetts 
 an' the ither wud wark aboot the place, an' syne they 
 were to gie't a' a fresh coat o' bonnie blue pent ! A' 
 the cairts baith lang anes an' coup anes were to be 
 new pen tit too ! This wid tak some time to the daein' 
 o't, nae doot, but a' the auld wives had gotten a new 
 brush a-piece, an' a gang o' them was to be startit on 
 the close-cairts the next day ; sae gif they dinna cast 
 oot amang themsel's by ordnar, nor dinna stand an' 
 claver beyond reason, he felt geyan sure that this sec- 
 tion o' the preparations also would be forrit by the 
 day o' days for Leddyslove ! But the fencing appeared 
 to be the "job " par excellence of worry and harassment 
 to the sore-strained and perplexed mind of the con- 
 scientious Prize Ploughman, for, he declared solemnly, 
 the slaps an' gaps were thicker an' langer than the 
 stan'in' bits in maist o' the dykes ! Drystane dykes 
 he affirmed to be a dounricht humbug at least they 
 war' niaistly doun ! an' sic erections sid be aye faced 
 an' coped wi' lime, the extra expense at the beginnin' 
 wad be hained twenty times owre in a curn o' twa 
 three years. As this subject seemed to be causing my 
 honest and all-worthy friend such unfeigned solicitude, 
 and even heart-breaking care, I tenderly compas- 
 sionated him, and volunteered on the spot to aid 
 in his rescue (the readier since we had finished our 
 turnips at Blaebraes), by sending him over to-niorrow
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 239 
 
 two of our best hands whom I knew by long experience, 
 to be handy and first-class fencers. No sooner had I 
 made this humble proposal than Horsman snatched at 
 and accepted it with the avidity of sinking despair at 
 a stray wisp of hope, and then instantly thanked me 
 with all the ardour and brevity of a deep and sincere 
 nature. He said my proffer had ta'en a sair load aff 
 his mind, for he wadna be ahint hand on the marriage 
 day na, iia, no' for warlds ! I enquired when this 
 kittle point had been duly and comfortably settled, 
 what about the wedding flags and decorations 
 were there to be any 1 " What ! " returned Jamie, 
 somewhat violently, yet good humouredly " What ! 
 flags ! say ye, Mr Pintail 1 Nae flags ! nae airches, 
 nor sich ! Now, man ! ye little ken about it ! Dod 
 Denam, Will Whitelaw, an' a' the lave o' the lads an' 
 halflins belanging to the place hae been workin' 
 'ithoot devald an' makin' ready o' them at nichts an' 
 leisure times for a month an' mair back ! The foure 
 stacks left i' the barnyaird are ilkane o' them to bear 
 on hie a lang an' a braid wab o' the red, white, an' 
 blue ! Tho' grainery, the hichest hoose i' the toun, 
 is to hae its tile roof pairced, sae that a lang peeled 
 lerrick can be shuten through to a hicht o' twenty 
 feet, an' have tethered to its tap, a' ready to be loused 
 out an' looten flee to the wind on the mornin' o' the 
 marriage day, ane o' the lairgest an' grandest an' inaist 
 wounerfu' flags that ever wes seen ! It has come a' 
 the road frae Edinburgh, an' has cost the callants that 
 subscribit for't a' thegither abune thirty shillins ! As 
 for airches an' daikorations o' the floor description," 
 continued Jamie, in an for him oratorical spate and 
 breathlessly, " as for them I canna tell ye the wan 
 half o' them ! There's to be a grand ane in the gothy 
 style o' arkitektur at the fit o' the coach road, an' 
 anither, the marrow o't, up at the sherubery, forby 
 locks, an' wraiths, an' tails, an' strings, an' streamers, 
 an' festoons, au' lang cairt ropes a' buskit frae end to 
 end wi' roses an' evergreens an' holly, strung frae tree 
 to tree an' frae ae shed mooth to anither !" &c., &c. 
 Our interesting confab was cut short by our arrival
 
 240 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 at the "entry" of Leddyslove, and when I reached 
 Blaebraes I found Mucklebackit with Agnes, anxiously 
 awaiting me. On reporting them the grand news of 
 the day, Sam flashed up furiously and burst out, or 
 rather exploded, in his usual magniloquent and ecstatic 
 style when profoundly moved, thus : 
 
 " What ! Hootsman to be married ! Hootsman, eh ] 
 
 Our jovial, jolly, jaunty, joking Jock I 
 
 And to Miss Fairbairn, say ye ? winsome Jess ! 
 
 Oh, fy thon joyous, jibing, jesting Jessie ! 
 
 Sweet as the rose on yonder wild brier bush, 
 
 When bathed in June morn dew ! Now meet and mix, 
 
 Sixteen and five and sixty, green eld, fair youth, 
 
 October and sweet May, lukewarm and hot, 
 
 The ripe shock and the braird, late afternoon, 
 
 With brisky breakfast time, bright morn, dull dusk ! 
 
 Contraries adverse, inharmonious all, 
 
 Disclaim in this event contrariness, 
 
 And join and mingle as they were in sooth 
 
 The tit co-mates and loves ! Upon them both, 
 
 Life and true love, for thirty years to come, 
 
 Fall as a happy fate, 'neath which shall spring, 
 
 As in a nursery tended lovingly, 
 
 Fairbairns and Hootsmans blended as a race, 
 
 To bless and gratify the time to come 
 
 With faultless beauty and as perfect worth ! " 
 
 RUEFULLY RETROSPECTIVE RATHER ! 
 
 " The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft 
 agley ! " R B. 
 
 " This year hiz had a surfeit o' the tempests o' the warld ! 
 Canadian frosts an' Polar snaws roond's infant craig 
 
 were swirl'd ; 
 Syne monsoons, simooms, tornadoes, an' Levanters 
 
 frae the east, 
 Wi' boreal squalls 'tween coorses, have comprised his 
 
 constant feast!" S. M.
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 241 
 
 SAID one the ancients, one of your wonderful pioneer- 
 ing Thebans, if I remember correctly at any rate, 
 said a carle of the olden times, quo' he, " Man, he pro- 
 poseth, but the gods the gods ! they disposeth ! " 
 This profound moral maxim has been once again ex- 
 perienced and verified in all its measureless magnitude 
 in the present Chronicle, by reason that it was origin- 
 ally sagely conceived and purposed to be something 
 altogether different from what it must now inevitably 
 become. Alack, alas ! and so forth. For, strange to 
 say, Old Madam, the World, goes jowling and hitch- 
 ing along in her old way ; in her old rumble-tumble, 
 and in her old rut still and quite right, no doubt, Old 
 Madam is. But you know, as well as all the rest of 
 Europe and the U.S., &c., Hootsman was to be 
 married ; the " preliminaries " were arranged, the 
 feast was cooked, and the guests invited to the bridal, 
 and I., your humble servant, T. P. your veracious, 
 rural reporter under a screen had been, as it were by 
 the dictum of the assembled fates, told off to be the 
 chronicler to civilisation of the " auspicious and in- 
 teresting ceremony," &c. And what has actually 
 happened 1 Something very like this : Hootsman 
 has been, for the third time, securely trapped and 
 caged ; Hymen's tie has been irrevocably knotted 
 around his aged nape ; his nuptial festivities have 
 been celebrated with due eclat and hurricanes of ap- 
 plause and unbounded hilarity; his "honey-moon" 
 has arisen, floated broad and white through the blue 
 field and heaven of love, and sunk and set in un- 
 paralleled satisfaction and welcome ; and yet I, his 
 humble, yet most ardent admirer and historian, have 
 witnessed not a jot, tittle, nor moiety of it all ! 
 
 " In the name of Christian justice," I hear my 
 countless readers fretfully query, " how in the world, 
 Thomas, dear, did this woful contretemps fall out ? " 
 Well, my kind friends, the causes of this truly mis- 
 fortunate lump of ill-luck were many some public, 
 and a legion of a private nature all of which may 
 roughly be thrown together, and read in a sentence as 
 
 Q
 
 242 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 follows : T. P.'s duties as a recognised observer of 
 the " signs of the times " necessitating close watchful- 
 ness of the swing and length of the last comet's 
 tail ; the Royal Review ; the illness and death of that 
 one of earth's worthiest and noblest sons, President 
 Garfield ; the gagging of Parnell and a host of other 
 good Irishmen, &c. ; and such of a private sort, as the 
 late turnip thinning (though too thin from the first) ; 
 hay selling and carting away ; early harvest in mid- 
 September; the scarcity of "drouth" externally, and its 
 superfluity internally ; and, above and beyond all, the 
 late extraordinary and lamentable fit of alternating 
 doleful dumps and noisy, lecturing tantrums and tear- 
 ing around dirdums of that wife of wives, mine own 
 inimitable spouse, Agnes better known as the " My 
 Nanny, " of my illustrious neighbour and avowed 
 chief, Samuel Mucklebackit, Esquire, of Clover Rigs ! 
 The above is confessedly a partial, yet most true 
 category of the multifarious causes which combined to 
 prevent me attending, and consequently chronicling in 
 due course, the too-fashionable wedding and home- 
 coming of the universally beloved Hootsman and his 
 admirable bride. Yet probably well was it for me 
 that my time was taken up with these and other all 
 important matters, for I surmise that, but for these, I 
 might have taken a swing at a rope's end, or have 
 drunken a pint of opium. For weeks after the bridal 
 I was excluded from the beloved society of all my old 
 friends. Not even was I once blessed and enlivened 
 by a solitary call from Sam. It seemed to me as if the 
 world had grown stupid and dizzy with long whirling 
 round one way, and was even then in a dwam and 
 dulness of fatal sickness prior to immediate and utter 
 collapse. Harvest, however, came at length, lagging 
 on a-pace, sweer and sluggard-wise, and dreeping like 
 a newly-washed sheep/ No sooner was the hook 
 whetted and thrust around her in a first embrace, than 
 the clouds and the firmament opened and let go they 
 did! "Such a rain !" Betimes it dawked, and the 
 sun would bleer out for fully ten minutes, and then
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 243 
 
 couch under the cloud-blanket again for a week. Fogs, 
 dews, haurs, hazes, mists, sleets, dribbles, drizzles, 
 drenches, downpours, deluges, descended upon us 
 singly and in combination till we were all scoured and 
 bleached better, or worse, than the Bass Eock. The 
 fields, when shorn, were shorn indeed ; but they all 
 did their utmost to produce a second crop in the stook, 
 and most of them succeeded ! The black, hoody craw 
 hovered over them, croak, croaking, and shook his 
 ominous dusky wings above them, like the veritable 
 spirit of desolation and despair. I felt so ill, downcast, 
 and forlorn myself, that I could neither snuff, think, 
 nor write, and wandered, crestfallen, up an down the 
 hedge-sides like a Hallowe'en bogle. This dismal 
 mood is on me still, as this so serious and most miser- 
 able and melancholy Chronicle does testify. Alas ! Ah, 
 me ! For what is to become of our present race of 
 British farmers if they will not take advice and com- 
 bine, and move as one body 1 This it is that troubles 
 me. This is my dangerous disease, and much do I 
 fear a fatal termination. 
 
 In this deplorable humour and mental dilemma, my 
 dear reader, I sadly sauntered out the other day (a 
 week or two since), and dreamily and dementedly 
 daundered down the burnside to a well-known and 
 well-beloved point near its confluence with the Tyne. 
 On the further or eastern bank of the burn sweep 
 down in graceful undulated unfoldings and beautiful 
 slopes, the fair and fertile and far-famous lands of Clover 
 Kiggs. The evening in question was fine and wet, and 
 I admired, in a way, the healthy and vigorous braird 
 on the tops of some still ungathered stooks as I passed 
 along. If anything, perhaps, the braird was a little too 
 growthy and exuberant ; but this was a quite natural 
 and, indeed, inevitable result of this A-l extra mun- 
 dane season. Immediately prior to this nice and 
 soft very soft evening, a shower of eight days' 
 duration had fallen, and refreshed, one would think, 
 the very inmost bowels of the earth. The rain had 
 now abated somewhat, and a dreary mantle of thick,
 
 244 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 grey, dripping mist enshrouded with sombre sadness 
 the whole wan face of nature. The only appreciable air 
 going was that which was raised by the fanning of the 
 wings of innumerable midges and other insects. Away 
 from the brook, not a sound was heard but drip, drip, 
 drip the universal dirgeall chorus drip, drip, 
 drip. Within some distance of the burn, however, 
 this too popular requiem was silenced or quelled by the 
 far greater and grander hubbub and wild rumble-tumble 
 of the rivulet in full spate. This commonly tiny creek 
 of two yards across had now waxed and swollen by the 
 gracious favours of the season to an actual, full-bosomed 
 river of no small consequence and energy. I was 
 aweary and fatigued, so I sat me down, to ease awhile 
 mine ancient limbs, on the summit of a green little 
 knoll, which at that part crowns the left or western 
 bank of the stream. On the other bank, and nearly 
 exactly opposite, there is a twin knoll of almost 
 similar shape and dimensions as the one on which I 
 rested. Our most worthy blacksmith possesses the 
 right to the grass on either shore. Through the 
 murky veil of the misty evening I dimly recognised 
 what I at first supposed to be a large rick of the smith's 
 hay topping, like another old cairn, the summit of the 
 eastern little hill. After a while, I thought I was 
 sure I thought I saw the imagined cairn moving ! 
 " Merciful Heaven ! " I mentally cried, " is the 
 dominie becoming distraught ! have his wits become 
 unsettled by brooding over-much on the gigantic 
 grievances of agriculturists ? " Not knowing what 
 else to do, I rubbed my rheumy een and looked again, 
 and saw that the suspected hay rick had assumed a 
 different attitude, and was now visibly inclining to- 
 wards me ! In the great name of this matter-of-fact, 
 scientific, and ghost-scorning nineteenth century, what 
 could this soul-harrowing/fearful phenomenon signify ] 
 A despicable heap of faded grass and withered weeds 
 to exhibit life and movement ! I stared till each of 
 my eyeballs ached and projected an inch beyond their 
 sockets, and then, in perfect desperation, I shouted
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 245 
 
 like a madman athwart the flooded burn "Hoy! 
 hallo, hallo ! what's wrong, hayrick ? are ye turning 
 into a Noah's Ark to accommodate the rabbits and the 
 beasts of the field in this second deluge 1 " " Bow, 
 wow ! bow, bow, bow, wow ! " I was answered in- 
 stantly from the other coast, while from the mass of 
 the supposed stack strode out a yard or two into clear 
 outline one of the most wonderful looking members of 
 the canine species that it has ever been my misfortune 
 to gaze at. More dumfoundered than ever, I roared 
 something back again, and then the erroneously con- 
 ceived hayrick elevated itself and became, in my 
 vision, transmogrified in an instant into what it really 
 was to wit, the semblance and substance of that 
 modern mammoth, the mighty Mucklebackit, en- 
 shrouded in a vast and voluminous " Mackintosh," or 
 grey Highland cloak, and a huge-brimmed white felb 
 hat ! When this live flesh-and-blood Colossus had 
 looked, seen, and identified me, and ordered in his 
 enormous and terrible bloodhound, he took up and 
 continued the oratory himself by thundering across 
 the roaring waters to me, quite familiarly and uncon- 
 cernedly : " Hallo, Dominie, this you ? Never, mind 
 the doug, he canna get at you, being neither aquatic 
 nor amphibious, but a dry-land alligator, oot-and-oot. 
 He's just, in sober truth, a full-bred greyhound, and 
 overhauls up to my desire the hares and rabbits, but 
 meddles neither wi' rottens nor reporters ! That word 
 reminds me to say, freend Tammas, that ye maunna 
 gae blab an' tell the kintra hoo that ye fand me oot 
 here drenched like a Eoyal Volunteer sittin' a' by 
 mysel' whingin', an' wailin', an' knashin' my teeth 
 owre a' the present sad an' sair sorrows, bitter, bitter 
 bereavements, an' waefu' weirds o' oor fisher an' 
 farmer fowks ! " " Oh, Sam ! " I joyfully answered, 
 happy to see him and to be relieved so thoroughly 
 from my late apprehensions, " Dear Sam, is it you ? 
 But where did you get that awful, that incompre- 
 hensible dog 1 He puts me in mind of a new rail 
 fence, seen from a window of a mail train ! Is he
 
 246 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 really a dog ? " " Yes," yelled Sam in return, " he is 
 the famous Ben Mr Jenkinson's great Ben the 
 winner of innumerable matches throughout the three 
 kingdoms. Seventy pounds sterling were offered and 
 refused for him, and yet I have got him as a present 
 for nothing at all. But, confound this never-ending, 
 accursed weather ! " " But ye're all in, Sam," I 
 soothingly rejoined, "and in tolerable order, too, 
 although, of course, a small and meagre bulk. But 
 that hound ! Canst thou, a bard, make thine inspired 
 and meditative peregrinations with such a monstrous 
 and gruesome companion such an unutterable disgust- 
 ing brute the very personification and embodiment of 
 emaciation, if not starvation itself ! But, noo, Samuel," 
 for I was anxious to get to other matters, " when did 
 you see Hootsman, and how did you manage at his wed- 
 ding ? It was a grand affair 1 " " Hootsman ! why," 
 returned Sam, shouting his loudest, and with his right 
 hand placed vertically edge-ways by his mouth, " why, 
 I saw Hootsman to-day, have just parted with him, in 
 fact. Forgathered with him when over seeing old 
 Saunders Thomson who is very poorly going the 
 way of all flesh. Hootsman is jollier than ever, albeit 
 somewhat annoyed about a threatened action for 
 breach of promise by a Miss Jenny Birdie of Teuch 
 Cleuch. The wedding, nae doot, was a great affair, 
 but it 's sae far back noo I hae amaist forgotten it a' 
 exceptin' that wi' singin' an' speechifeein' I was as 
 hairse an' gruff as a Cumberland boar for twa ooks 
 afterhend !" "I suppose the enviable couple received 
 many very beautiful and valuable presents ! " " Prai- 
 
 zants !" but just as he was making to begin a 
 
 description of them after his own manner, the dry- 
 land crocodile, or greyhound, started, erected himself 
 on his long sinewy pins, and then instantly interjected 
 into the valley such a howl as was never heard before 
 on this side of Limerick ! We both one on either 
 bank sprang to our feet, and looked up the burn 
 simultaneously. And well were we rewarded for 
 doing so, for a spectacle met our eyes such as never,
 
 CO UNTR Y CUR ONICLES. 247 
 
 I trow, shot within the ken of mortal optics before. 
 At dusk, it is the usual practice of Mrs Pintail to call 
 upon the crow-herd boy, in order to obtain his aid in 
 driving home the ducks and geese. This evening the 
 worthy couple had sallied out together for this laud- 
 able purpose, and had succeeded in collecting their 
 quacking charges, and were shooin' and driving them 
 homewards over the little bridge, which at Blaebraes 
 spans (or spanned) the burn with two ricketty wooden 
 arches when hoolie, hoolie ! the entire structure 
 tottered and collapsed as thoroughly as if it had been 
 erected by Sir Thomas Bouch ! The whole living 
 freight Mrs P., the crow-herd, and some two score 
 ducks, drakes, and geese were precipitated, with a 
 mass of shattered timbers, into the flooded and 
 tumultuous stream below. When they regained con- 
 sciousness, the two unique human specimens found 
 themselves in the midst of a flock of fowl in their 
 own watery element, involuntarily scudding seawards 
 at the rate of twenty knots an hour, and in these cir- 
 cumstances fast approached the hallowed scene of my 
 accidental interview with Mucklebackit. " Lord," 
 cried Sam, " it 's My Nannie, ! " and, without 
 another word, bounded down the little hill tearing 
 the while the formidable Mackintosh from his gigantic 
 shoulders. Grasping the great mantle by one of its 
 side-wings, he deftly swung it on high, and spread it 
 straightway like a carpet over the rough bosom of the 
 torrent, just in front and \vithin reach of the crow- 
 herd and his mistress, linked together as they never 
 had , been before, and suggesting to the poetical mind 
 an intrigue between an amorous courtier Triton and a 
 sea-nereid, who, in the entanglements of roguish 
 wanderings had got belated, and were e'en now hurry- 
 ing home to the distracted court of Amphltrite pell- 
 mell, and as best they could. (See following 
 " Chronicle.")
 
 248 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 A RESCUE, A REVERSE, AND A RELEASE. 
 
 " Let burgh pop-guns crack galore, 
 
 Elections botch'd, an' a' that, 
 ' Tarn's ' subjects fit his larger bore, 
 An' warld-wide range, an' a' that !" 
 
 T. P. 
 
 " Death, the poor man' dearest friend, 
 The kindest and the best ! " 
 
 E. B. 
 
 THE frail and dilapidated system of former times hath 
 now literally felt the blast, and all but actually suc- 
 cumbed. The " light of other days " is as a farthing 
 candle in a Westminster Abbey if, indeed, it, at this 
 writing, is perceptible at all. Nearly all is over; the 
 disease hath admirably done its work, and the funeral 
 of the dying if not already dead alone awaits ; and 
 we all of us may sing the " Dead March " and the 
 " Land o' the Leal " appropriately when we please. 
 November, like a worn-out libertine, came upon us meek 
 as an invalid asthmatical weak and a-weary, mild, 
 breathless, panting ; and anon, hypocritically wheezing, 
 puffing, squalling, and hurricaning. The top of the 
 stoutest tree in the forest he flew forward and grappled 
 with, and too oft the venerable chieftains of the wood 
 land were worsted, and embraced with a direful crash 
 the unresponsive and unsympathetic earth. And, as 
 in the outer or material world, so also hath it been 
 correspondingly in the world of humanity in these 
 regions. The storms of bitter adversity have lately 
 swept, and are still sweeping, the groaning groves of 
 mortal existence here around, and not a few of the 
 admirable and even time-honoured of the species have 
 already ducked in the clay their resplendent and re- 
 vered heads ! But I anticipate, as usual, and will 
 therefore cry " Wo !" short, and immediately back my 
 too hasty muse to the point whereat we last laid down 
 and " lowsed " in the telling of these veracious 
 " Chronicles " to wit, at the moment of the gallant
 
 CO UNTR Y CHRONICLES. 249 
 
 rescue from a watery grave of the Hon. Mrs P. and 
 the herd-boy by the magnanimous Mucklebackit ! 
 
 As was stated, I think, in the last instalment of 
 these remarkable records, the herd-boy and his affable 
 mistress had been precipitated into the burn, which 
 Avas at the time in a raging spate, through the Tay- 
 Bridge-like collapse of the little step-over which 
 spanned the brook at Blaebraes, just as they were in 
 the act of crossing it, driving before them the whole 
 merry flock of ducks and geese home for the night. 
 With the exception of some half-dozen fowls, the en- 
 tire bevy of wobblers were carried out to sea, and have 
 never quacked audibly to human ears since. Without 
 doubt their brace of amiable guardians would have ac- 
 complished a similar destiny, but for the providential 
 presence and heroic interposition of Sam, as related in 
 the last chapter. For as soon as ever he caught the 
 first glance of the mixed flotilla bearing down full- 
 rigged, and having the tide astern, upon us, he leaped 
 up like a tailor, and, followed close at heels by his un- 
 conscionable and tremendous hound, gained with swift 
 and enormous strides the bank, plucked from his Her- 
 culean shoulders their vast Highland habiliment, and 
 then deftly swung it across the torrent, just as the 
 devoted squadron approached. The feathered fraction 
 of the fleet the ducks and geese frightened beyond 
 argument at the unwonted display of drapery, shied 
 excitedly to one side, and swept past like a " royal 
 cortege." Not so, however, did the mankind members 
 of the party, for the instant the all and ever wide-awake 
 Mrs P. descried the means of salvation in the mantle 
 of Mucklebackit, she loudly raised a yell of triumph, 
 heaved on high her waukrife loof, and clutched at 
 the Mackintosh as if it had been the uncovered locks 
 of a certain old man, denominated "T. P. !" No sooner 
 had she laid hold securely of the at least to her 
 victorious banner, than again she lifted up her shrill 
 voice, and screamed out with energy and anxiety, 
 " Poo, Sam ! oh, Sam ! poo ! poo !" The little herd- 
 boy, dragging in the wake of his full-fledged queen,
 
 250 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 like a galley boat astern a leviathan ship at sea, held 
 on manfully by her extended skirts, and would not 
 let go. So in this way Mrs P., grasping the mid- 
 flood end of the serviceable Highland cape, and, fur- 
 ther adrift still, the little lad retaining as firmly the 
 rear garments of his fellow xmfortunate were they 
 quickly hauled ashore, and mercifully rescued from a 
 dreadful doom by the potent pluck and power of our 
 puissant S. M. of Clover Riggs. For, Ah ! 
 
 " Never idle is our mentor ! 
 
 With his utterance sweet and strong ; 
 E'en his anger is a sermon, 
 
 And his slumber is a song ! 
 Strong and calm in rest and leisure, 
 
 Noble in his hour of strife ; 
 Let the die of his great nature 
 
 Stamp the tenor of our life !" 
 
 Strange to say, and perhaps more difficult to explain, 
 the large greyhound, the moment it ascertained Sam's 
 intention was to save the victims, growled a thunder 
 clap displeasedly, turned tail on the instant, and sped 
 off at its utmost speed, baying and howling as if the 
 moon had fallen. Nor hath the dry-land alligator 
 been seen since, except in the near neighbourhood of 
 the Railway Hotel at Dunbar. (This is a canine anec- 
 dote, and a natural history fact, which any one may 
 verify by a call at the aforesaid hostelry Mr Bishop's). 
 As soon as they had reached terra firma, Sam mind- 
 fully and tenderly stretched the rescued ones at full 
 length and head downmost, along the steep bank, 
 forced open their mouths, and let the water gravitate 
 outwards. It was soon apparent, even to me on the 
 further shore, that Agnes had partaken extensively of 
 the flood. The boy also, indeed, proved to have been 
 much overcharged with'the liquid element, but as his 
 storage capacity was considerably inferior to that of 
 Mrs P.'s, he got proportionately sooner run empty. 
 
 After he had got them thus both comparatively 
 resuscitated and lightened, Sam straightway erected
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 25 1 
 
 the grateful couple on their uprights, drew the willing 
 hand of Nanny through his arm, beckoned to me over 
 the water, and then strode hurriedly forth, and at 
 great speed, up the burn Blaebraeswards. On reach- 
 ing the cheerful and warm fireside of our cosy parlour, 
 Mucldebackit assumed the mastership for the nonce, 
 and ordered me to fetch him the brandy bottle and a 
 wine glass straightway. On my reappearing with 
 them, he instantly plucked the bottle from my hands, 
 decanted about two full glasses of the elexir o' life into 
 a tumbler, seized hold of his trembling and bewitched 
 Nanny, and forcibly poured down her throat the fiery 
 contents of the tumbler to the last drop. He then, 
 releasing her, commanded and despatched her instantly 
 off to bed ; and no sooner was she gone than his whole 
 tone and manner suddenly underwent a mysterious, 
 and, indeed, an awful change. Startled beyond 
 measure by his sad and even ghastly solemnity of 
 expression, I approached him, when he whispered 
 to me in a low, broken, and faltering voice, that 
 he wished a word with me privately. Frightened 
 almost out of my wits by his unusual and unchar- 
 acteristic words and ways, I, without knowing what 
 I was doing, nodded assent, and arose and locked 
 the parlour door on the inside. Staggering back 
 to him, with my heart knocking at my ribs, and now 
 grown almost speechless with agitation, I gasped out 
 spasmodically "Sam, oh Sam! what is it?" for 
 intuitively I felt that he was on the eve of announcing 
 some terrible calamity. " Sit doon, Dominie," calmly 
 said Sam, " dinna shake sae, an' sit doon an' drink atf 
 half a gless o' bran'y, an' I'll tell ye syne." " Well, 
 Sam, here's to ye ! But, oh ! what is it that is making 
 you look so weirdly and ghostly ] Has anything hap- 
 pened Hootsman ] " " Na, na, Dominie," returned 
 Sam, convulsively, and now grown sadder and paler 
 than ever, "Na, na, it's nae Hootsman God bless 
 him ! It's mysell. I'm leavin' Clover Riggs ! " 
 " Oh ! angels and ministers of grace preserve us ! 
 what a tale's this ? But when 1 how 1 why 1 Sam,
 
 252 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 what do you mean ? Leaving Clover Eiggs ? " " Yes, 
 Dominie ! " sobbed like a maiden the massive Muckle- 
 backit " a wee, wee while langer, and the auld haunts 
 the beloved scenes of my childhood, boyhood, and 
 manhood the braes, the fields, an' knowes, the auld 
 castle and romantic river side o' bonny Clover Eiggs 
 sail ken me nae mair ! nae mair for*ever ! God ! 
 nae mair for ever ! It's a crushing blow it's a 
 heart-breaking thocht that this is to be ! But be it 
 maun, an' sune, for the mandates o' Fate an' factors 
 are irrevocable. And " " Oh, Sam ! " I inter- 
 rupted, the whole truth flashing upon me in a moment, 
 " Sam ! " I cried, wringing his twitching and nervous 
 hand " Can I do nothing 1 You have broken my 
 heart ! My last penny is yours " " No, Domi- 
 nie, no, I say ! The evil is incurable in these times, 
 and I would not accept of a Geordie the First's bawbee 
 to mend it. But auld Clover Eiggs, Dominie, man 
 an' boy, off an' on, I have run ye trow weel aboot 
 it, for abune thirty years ; an' this, to a man disposed 
 an' natured as I am, mak's it a deidly wrench to draw 
 ane's sel' frae sic a dear lo'ed and lang-kenned hame as 
 mine!" "Part with Clover Eiggs!" I interposed, 
 horror struck with the unutterable doom which his 
 melancholy moanings presented to my imagination 
 " Mucklebackit sundered from Clover Eiggs ! as well 
 conceive Traprain Law itself riven like a jewel from 
 the bosom of our fair Loudonia ! But is it a fact that 
 this is to be 1 and if so what will Edinburgh what 
 will Scotland what will Europe say?" "Confound 
 you !" interjected Sam, bursting in wrath, as I had 
 intended, for his grief and melancholy moanings over 
 his lamentable reverse of fortune were unendurable, 
 " confound you for a silly, parodising, pedantic, peda- 
 gogue, and an alliterating word mumbler, and an ex- 
 aggerating literary Chea'p John, as you are! What do 
 you take me for? I have lived and thriven thousands 
 of miles away from Clover Eiggs before. My trouble 
 is a fearful one, no doubt, but, you blockhead, do not 
 whine over me. If I do now slip my cable from the
 
 CO UNTR Y CHR ONICLES. 2$ 3 
 
 old haven, the world must hold me blameless, inas- 
 much as it is none of my doing, but simply and alto- 
 gether owing to the external strain and the insufficiency 
 of the cable itself to retain me longer. Thou knowest, 
 Pintail, how I have wrought, and fought, and striven, 
 and planned, and schemed. Behold in me a nonde- 
 script victim of evil days ! High rents, low markets, 
 your darned Yankees, and infernal seasons have done 
 it ; and so Sam, with other thousands, chops under, 
 and that is all. Ay, these rascals commonly called 
 conditions, circumstances have banded themselves 
 together, spat on their neives, and dug my graff. 
 Yet, let the Aberdonians persevere, cute and brave 
 lads are they. They are on the right track, the track 
 which I, in the columns of the Courier and other 
 papers, have continually indicated and urged as the 
 right and safe one for the British farmer any time these 
 last twenty years. What I predicted long, long years 
 ago, is happening to-day. I was then sneered at as 
 an extremist and alarmist, but the events of to-day 
 are proving that I was a prophet, and the universal 
 adoption of the remedies I then proposed shows that 
 I was a reformer of no more radical a type than 
 the magnitude of the evils to be amended demanded. 
 The Aberdonians, I say again, are fellows worthy of 
 the highest honour. Samuel Mucklebackit salutes 
 them ! What is the Earl of Dalhousie doing 1 Jerk 
 him up on a pinnacle, and let the landed ninnies of 
 the three kingdoms behold a man ! Your " Club" 
 men of East Lothian, with one or two appreciated ex- 
 ceptions, are a pack of glakit timorous old women. 
 Fancy one of their lights flashing up and blazing out 
 in a speech in which he declares that the laws of en- 
 tail and primogeniture have nothing to do, and cannot . 
 affect in the smallest degree, either the farmer or his 
 agricultural industry ! " But, 
 
 " Hark ! a rap comes gently to the door !" 
 
 and Mucklebackit, now reeking in full harness, is 
 curbed up by it abruptly, and in a lower and an altered 
 key queries annoyedly, " Hallo ! whae's that 1 some-
 
 254 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES, 
 
 body at the door ? There's twa ! ye had better open, 
 Tarn!" When I had done so, not a " neibor lad," 
 but an Irish outworker, in hobnailed boots and a red 
 woollen shawl, steppit cannily ben. At her heels, 
 gesticulating in dumb show, advanced our stout and 
 apple-cheeked serving lass, Lizzie. After the demand, 
 so provokingly provoked, " What the deil do you 
 want 1 " had been made, the damsel of Erin advanced, 
 scraping and curtsying, and, halting at length within 
 two feet of Sam's chair, said, " I beg your honour's 
 pardon but shure yer Masther Mucklebrackit ] Yes, 
 a chera ! thin, masther dear, Jimmy Horsman, that is 
 our grave at Ladysloove, sint me to say as that his 
 poor father-in-law was gone ! Yes, avourneen, Lizzie 
 dear ! dount be a-making of faces at the gintlemen ! 
 yes, ould Saunders, yer honours, is dead and gone 
 and pace rest his soul!" " Auld Saunders, is auld 
 Saunders deid ?" cried Sam. " Trowth and that is he, 
 poor dear!" wept the tender-hearted maiden of the 
 Green Isle, " and may the Holy Vargin and the saints 
 take him to their rest, for he was a paceable craythur ! 
 Jimmy wants yer worship to come over to-night to see 
 about the makings of the funeral, an' I'm to ax if yez 
 will do it." " All right," answered Sam thoughtfully, 
 " I'm drenched to the skin, but I'll come,tell him. (I wad 
 cross the Solway in a spring tide to serve Jamie Hors- 
 man.) Pintail, I'll look for ye at the funeral, good-bye! 
 Come on, thou budding blossom of St Patrick ! for in such 
 a night, and in such a style, will I even endeavour to ac- 
 company and restore thee to thy appropriate and adopted 
 setting in Leddyslove ! Poor Saunders ! March ! " 
 
 By the following post next day I received inti- 
 mation that Sauuders Thomson had died at 9 P.M. on 
 the 20th inst., that he was to be interred in Tynekirk 
 churchyard on the 24th of the same month, and that my 
 assistance was obligingly requested thereat. T. P. 
 
 Auld Clover Riggs ! thy cleuchs an' craigs ! 
 
 Green haughs, and winding river ! 
 Farewell to-day ! farewell for aye ! 
 
 FOR EVER, On ! FOR EVER !
 
 COUNTRY CHRONICLES. 255 
 
 ANE DEEVILISH PEANK OF YE WICKED 
 ELFIN KING. 
 
 FAR up the glen, on the whinny knowe, 
 
 Yellow-hair'd Effie sat a' day 
 Plaitin' a snood for her dreamy brow, 
 An' learnin' the lintie's sweet, sweet lay, 
 
 Till the gloamin' fell 
 
 Owre the lonely dell : 
 Oh, bonnie Effie, gae name, gae hame 
 
 Thy minnie '11 frooii 
 
 An' ye comena soon, 
 An' auld angirt faither do mair than blame. 
 
 " Gude nicht, Lintie, I 'm aff an' awa ; 
 
 Gude nicht, burnie, too ; 
 An' a wee, wee kiss for my wee flowers a', 
 The fairest that ever grew ! 
 
 Oh ! just like a bee, 
 
 Am I happy wi' thee, 
 As I flit thro' the lang simmer day, 
 
 Like a sun-blink coming, 
 
 Where the bees are humming 
 Sangs o' the nature and lealest for aye ! " 
 
 Foxgloves, bluebells, thimmels, an' spinks, 
 
 Lootit their heids a-wee ; 
 
 She gazit doon the glen where the burnie jinks, 
 Ane waesome wench to see : 
 
 " the stars are shootin', 
 
 An' the kye are rootin', 
 An' hame I maun gang ye weel, weel ken ; 
 
 I '11 come agen 
 
 To the bonnie glen, 
 An' luve ye for leavin' ye a' nicht alane !" 
 
 Noo, a blae wee deevilick son o' an elf, 
 
 Was crooned the king o' his tribe, 
 Had heard a' this, an quo he to hisself 
 Wi' ouphish-like lauch an jibe 
 " Eicht queens are mine, 
 She '11 mak' the nine :
 
 256 RURAL RHYMES AND SKETCHES. 
 
 stars ! stars ! by the moon-woo'd well, 
 
 We '11 caper an' sing, 
 
 We' 11 dance in a ring, 
 Wi' the king i' the middle mysel, mysel ! " 
 
 He pressit his horn to his impish mou' 
 
 An' toutit three times three ; 
 Like bells his twa cheeks were blawn, I trow, 
 An' the tears ran frae his e'e. 
 
 " Rat-a-too ! rat-a-too ! " 
 
 He summoned his crew 
 W an elfin blast under the mune, 
 
 They heard the command 
 
 In the clap o' a hand 
 They were swarming a-low an' abune. 
 
 Wee Effie, sae mazed, she sank on the swaird, 
 
 In a leefu' an' sleepy-like dwam, 
 The king o' the Elves, a snell proud caird, 
 Spake orders to bind the wee lamb ; 
 
 " And carry," said he, 
 
 " Her tenderlie 
 All unto my palace so fine, 
 
 For there in Elfland, 
 
 In the silk so grand, 
 Of my queens she '11 be queen of the nine ! " 
 
 Up the glen in the moonshine awa, awa, 
 
 Wi' volte, an' caper, an' funk, 
 They danced, they snappit, an' heuched awa, 
 Like Alloway's ghaiste mad drunk. 
 
 An' the valley a' rang, 
 
 As the burnie sang 
 " Eflie, wee Effie, fareweel, fareweel ! 
 
 Lang years three times three 
 
 Elf queen ye maun be, 
 And sigh for auld Garvie in revel an' reel ! " 
 
 TUUNBULL AND SPEAKS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
 
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